RIP B-Sides. 2006-2006.
gone, but not forgotten.
i think it is time to throw in the towel. We’ve peaked at about 40 readers in a single day, which was good. But it has lost its steam. So goodnight, sweet prince.
like this blog? Yeah, me neither, but do you like other blogs? Do you like the idea of people being able to speak freely on the internet?
Nah, neither do I. Don’t visit http://www.savetheinternet.com/
Let’s make sure BellSouth, AT+T and Verizon tell us what is important, just like we let Fox News and People Magazine.
If you gave me $100, I’d let you stick needles in my skin. If you gave me $200, I’d let you inject me with radioactive chemicals. $30 I’d fill out your survey on fear of sexual intimacy, divulging every detail of my personal life. For $150, I’d stay two nights in your hospital and get a liver biopsy and some mystery treatment called an “intravenous clamp procedure.”
I am a medical guinea pig.
Last week, I participated in a study which tried to map OCD in the brain. It was really noninvasive, a plus for my first medical experiment. I didn’t have to get any shots. I did, however, have to have a 2 hour screening where they determine if I should be in the OCD group, the depressive group or the healthy control. In this two hours, I had to explain why I flick the lights 3 times each direction, count picket fences and train cars, tie my shoes left-over-right and click my jaw. I had to re-hash the messy breakups and drunken nights of self-flagellation. These guys asked me EVERYTHING.
They never told me what group I was in, but I’ll assume I was in the control.
They told me all I’d have to do was play this game on a computer, which would pay extra bonuses if I did well. Then I’d have to play it in an MRI. Then in an EEG, with electrodes glued to my skull.
The game was easy enough; for a fraction of a second, 5 letters would flash on a screen, 4 of them would be the same, one would be different, like HHHSH . I’d simply have to click the left button if an H or C was the abnormality or the right button if an S or K was the grey-duck. Somehow this “easy enough” game would become the bane of not just my waking life, but also became nocturnal tormentor. I dreamt of S’s and C’s dancing for hours on my grave while the H’s and K’s copulated, spawning armies of deviously alphabetical death squads. I thought games were supposed to be fun?
If I hit the right button, I won money. If I hit the wrong button, I lost money. If i went to slow, I lost money. Sitting at a desk, I thought the game was difficult. Stretched out in the womb of an MRI, machines buzzing all around my head making the machinery in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest look like an electric coffee maker, the game was a beast.
Getting hooked up to the EEG was a trip. It was really uncomfortable- they put me in some kind of helmet with electrodes all over it, glued some more to my face and measured my brainwaves. It was pretty sweet. They showed me what was going on, when I looked left or right, lines would jump up and down, when I closed my eyes, lines dipped and scattered. When the cute little nurse was showing me my brainwaves, I tried to think about boobs and see what happened, but nothing happened. I guess it was only measuring changes in my brain patterns, not consistencies.
All in all, the bad was outweighed by $195.25 cash. Three days of torture and I walked away with more than half of my rent check in my pocket.
Up next: Trunk Function: a study of how the elderly move; and Oral Absorption of Anti-fungal Medication. (this one has a hospital stay, which should provide a nice story…)
I have no excuse for not posting. I work as a receptionist for an uspecified governmental organization; I have high-speed internet and nothing to do. Yes, those are your tax dollars at work!
In order to make-up for not posting in about a month, and spend as little time as possible on the net so my boss doesn’t realize I’m getting paid to be yelled at by (often) annoying constituants, I’ll do a “week in review” link-fest post.
“We’re not smart enough to be ironic… We’ve lost our sense of humor, but we’re still afraid to take anything seriously.”
“Do you realize how boring a conservative news outlet would be? About as boring as Iranian porn.”
God, I love Generation PoMo.
“So why do you suppose that this panel is completely devoid of background details of any kind? And yet why is Barfy’s mangy little head poking in at the bottom of the frame, despite the fact that he’s not involved in this ‘joke’ at all?
“My theory about the first question: The utter blankness is supposed to cue us off that the Keanes live in an archetypical existentialist meaningless void — like Waiting For Godot, with more malapropisms.”
Check this out. My boss is catching on; I have to go.
It seems redundant to point out that i love the internet and list yet another website that makes me proud, but it is true. I love the internet.
This specific site is something of an interactive national project, charting um… lunar activity at some of the country’s most famous landmarks.
Allow me to introduce you to Butts Across America
I haven't been sleeping too well lately. It sucks. I don't know what is going on, but i'm having a fuck of a time drifting off. (unless i'm drunk.) I've been reading for almost 2 hours now. I don't fall asleep until easily 3 or 4 o'clock and don't wake again until 1 or 2. All i want is to go to sleep. I get drowsy and as soon as i close my eyes, my feet kick and i get too hot or too cold, gun shots ring out down the street or a loud car drives by, pumping Jay-Z into the night. The other night, a car drove by with his bass turned up so loud, it actually set off a car alarm down the street.
Wikipedia almost helps. Did you know that a group of sharks is called a Shiver? I am also comforted to know that Judy Garland, Kafka, Groucho Marx, Mark Twain and Bruce Wayne are all insomniacs? Churchill and Roosevelt, Benjimin Franklin and Edison were too.
Somebody send me some Melatonin and i'll drift off in no time.
Jack White, Brendan Benson and some of the Greenhornes. Very exciting. Miss this tour and you are a chump. I think i might miss it, because i am a chump.
June 7 – Henry Fonda Theater, Hollywood
6/8 – Amoeba records in Hollywood at 11
6/8 – Amoeba Records in San Francisco at 7ish
July 16 – Denver, CO
7/18 – Tempe, AZ
7/19 – San Diego, CA
7/20 – 21 – Los Angeles
7/22 + 23 – San Francisco
7/25 – Portland, OR
7/26 – Vancouver, BC
7/27 – Seattle, WA
7/28 – FUJI Rock Festival
Aug 3 – Minneapolis, MN (First Ave)
8/04 – Lollapalooza – Chicago, IL
8/05 – Ann Arbor, MI
8/06 – Cleveland, OH
Sept 14 – Houston, TX
9/15 – Grand Prairie, TX
9/16 – Austin, TX
9/19 – Atlanta, GA
9/20 – Orlando, FL
9/22 – Norfolk, VA
9/24 – Atlantic City, NJ
9/26 – NYC (Roseland Ballroom)
9/28 – Providence, RI
9/29 – Boston, MA
9/30 – Montreal
So check that shit out.
Better than the nudie polaroids was last night's find.
2 notes from Ontario: one, on the back of a carton of cigarettes. it reads, "Tom Willum Truner rapes young kids and is a FAGIT pervert, scum, moron airhead, jurk, asshole and is sick in the head." [sic]
The first one is just odd and kinda sad, but the second is amazing:
Joe has gone a walkin to find a piece of bread so he can stick the rest of his salami and cheese in a sandwich for to make his belly feel not quite empty
i love my new job.
It may not be a surprise to most of you, but new to others, that i’m out here in Ann Arbor, Michigan, chilling with the amazing dudes from Found magazine, being their faithful intern. This magazine is very DiY, so i didn’t really expect to come out here and make coffee like so many studious co-eds at law firms or the prestegious offices of congresswomen. Instead, my job is opening mail.
But the mail i open is shit that people find. Just this week i’ve gotten to peek into the lives of prison inmates, inner city girls writing notes to their dead-beat boyfriends, posh suburbanite 15 year olds and their journals, shopping lists of the damned- just shit. Most of it is pretty wild, post cards with delicate flowers on them which only say, “Fuck You” in a delicate script. The other part of my job is transcribing hours and hours of video for the documentary these guys are making all about LOVE. At first, it sucked a lot. A bunch of people i don’t know getting drunk and talking about girls or boys or whatever. But tonight, i got to be one of those drunk bastards.
We went out to Toledo, Ohio for a reading at the house of Clamour magazine, (which you should all check out, it is quite cool) where some beer was consumed. Then bowlling, where more beers than pins were knocked down. Finally, back to my place where we sat around eating burritos and drinking some more, talking about all of the significant others we’ve loved and left, or just loved. Or just left. Hearing myriad other people tell stories about their heartbreak puts your own tribulations into perspective, without trivializing what you’re going through. I don’t know if it is beer or compasion that brings people together, but i know i’ve shared some shit with a few people tonight. So i’m going to keep this blog moving with some stories about being an intern at Found magazine.
Take it as a good thing or bad, Wal-Mart, the criterion of soul-free big-business, has finally jumped on the Organic bandwagon.
It seems that Organic now has become profitable and marketable. It is no longer just a niche market. This is going to mean more land being converted and cultivated for organic farming. Seems to me that this is good fucking news! Is change actually possible in this fucking country? I guess, as long as enough people are willing to pay for it.
Obviously, when they finally do carry organic products, they will squeeze smaller companies out of business and subsidize big factory farms, but it is a step, right?
Although I will not ever shop at Wal-Mart, this is a pretty epic step.