breakfast anytime

July 31, 2006

Rule #23 Anyone who swears they thrive on chaos probably never has to clean it up.

I Fucking Taught Brandon Flowers How To Dress.

When The Killers first came to New York and they were a bunch of midwestern emo twerps who had their first afterparty at the bar where I DJ. After that Brandon Flowers would call me at home and have me take him to Daffy's to get clothes. His then-girlfriend worked managed an Urban Outfitters in Vegas and it showed. I told him that if you want to be understood as intelligent and dangerous, you have to dress the part. I got him the above jacket as a present and introduced him to my friends Sarah and Karen and got them to DJ MisShapes so they could make a few dollars.

We had kind of an agreement. He could borrow my girlfriend's make up. And we would never steal from eachother. He wanted to wear white blazer/black shirt and so he called me before just to make sure I wouldn't. So I had to go home and change into green shirt/track jacket. When I got there he didn't even have the decency to tell me he was rocking my haircut too. We agreed I could at least have the more attractive girl(see photos). In return I promised him a spot on the soundtrack to the movie verson of the novel I was finishing.

We didn't see eachother for a long time. I would get a picture text now and then of him in a dressing room ("2 Much?") looking for advice. I believe in what he does. So I don't mind helping him out.

This winter we ran into eachother while I was DJ'ing. We're two different people now. I have an agent and I'm working on my second novel. He thinks his new record will be the best in 20 years. You have to give people the room to grow and understand that they aren't going to always be the people you want/wanted them to be. But he walked in, saw me wearing a bullet-belt strung over my shoulder and gave me a snide little look and walked away.

Six months later I can't find my bullet belt, but all of the fucking sudden it shows up in a Killers photo promo.

You coulda fucking asked, Brandon! Dick. You better fucking bring Annie's make up back!

I'm still proud of my boy. And I think this song represents a maturity in production that I hope to achieve in my second novel.

The Killers- When You Were Young (full song)

Also, I introduced Justin Timberlake to Rick Rubin like a hundred years ago, so I'm glad they're finally working together. Even if they decided to leak the Timbaland produced-single first. Whatever. That punk owes me 20 bucks.

Justin Timberlake- SexyBack

Labels: Brandon Flowers

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July 28, 2006

If you're going to do something real classy like put a TV in a bar. Atleast get a fucking antenna. The last thing I want when I'm drinking alone is to feel like a forteen year watching free porn.

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July 26, 2006

It just really gets to me sometimes when people tell me that my writing comes across as far-fetched or absurd. The world is absurd. Fucking faggots.

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Somedays I'm just happy that I'm not in Junior High anymore.

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July 25, 2006

Dear Ben,

As you may recall, two summers ago you gave yourself the motivation to publish more weblog posts by staging a contest. This was before any of us were smart enough to change the dates on posts. I lost horribly, but I did one day get to meet the actual winner when I ran out on our lease in Chicago and went to visit you at Bard.

It was a fun way to spend the summer as we watched our relationships fade away and tried, semi-unsuccessfully, to have a meaningful summer fling with the Slovakian waitress whose visa would run out before I could.

It would be a real joy to invite everyone who still has a blog, and even people like Adam who never fucking update theirs, to try and write one meaningful thought/story per day.

I can't remember whose idea it was to resurrect the Yo La Tengo Summer Weblog Contest, because your fucking comment system is broken again.

We, the undersigned, would love to see this happen.

-Brendan

p.s. did you read The Autobiography of Big Foot? funny shit.
Labels: Chicago

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July 24, 2006

It really bothers me that in this day at my age when The Rapture and Peaches swear that we are friends. But they won't share the advance tracks with me. So, like all of my friends, I have to steal from them when they are not looking.
Get Myself Into It- The Rapture
Cheated Hearts (Peaches Remix)- Yeah Yeah Yeahs

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Last night I had a dream that I was about to have a big fancy dinner with President Bush. He said that it's hard to decide on the right wines with each course so he usually goes for the wine pairings.

And I said, "Well, I'll go with that you say. You're The Decider!" He laughed because in my dreams I have perfect delivery and I know that if you say any joke at the right volume, people will laugh.

Then I woke up and forgot that it was a dream at first. I thought about what kind of blog post I should write about it. And then slowly I came to realize that it was all a dream and I was sad because it meant the day before me would never be as much fun as the night behind.

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July 23, 2006

Holy shit! I wrote a novel about this fictional thing happening and then it did!
I-95 South Reopens After Tomahawk Missile Accident

NEW YORK (WCBS-AM) -- A Tomahawk Cruise Missile being transported south on I-95 this morning ended up in the middle of the highway near the Bronx.

The missile was being shipped from Rhode Island to a Virginia naval installation when the truck broke down. The truck carrying the missile was then rear ended by another tractor trailer, sending the missile out onto the highway in its protective case.
Tomorrow I'm going to write a novel about a bartender who writes novels that no one ever gets to read until one day he makes millions, buys a dive bar, has Jared Leto play him in the Ray of his life and gets a boat. Thank you Sam, for telling me about this.
Labels: Novel

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Man, if I lived in Israel right now--and I were jewish--but in one of those re-settled areas I'd start a band called "The Refu-jews." I might still make t-shirts that says "FUJEW."

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July 19, 2006

Do they reuse body bags? They must.

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Last week I had one of those complaints that no one wants to hear about. My "word of the day" RSS feed in gMail was somehow set for "word of the day if you didn't finish high school." The supposedly difficult words are also the ones you had to learn and never, ever get to use.* I laughed about it to my smug self at home, but then yesterday I found a better feed called Wordsmith.

And now I just feel like a moron again for not knowing these words. Just like in high school.

*"I keep getting emails for dick cream from that goddam montebank who broke my spam filter."

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Sometimes I can't believe the amount of things I don't know about, such as what is written on Charles Bukowski's gravestone.

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July 17, 2006

In case your parents, like mine, are actually quite with it at times and like the same pop music as you do and you, unlike me, wish your parents would lay off and stop pretending that they understand you because they like "Crazy" just throw throw this into the next mix you make them if you, like me, make your parents mixes:
Bounce That by Girl Talk

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July 13, 2006

Hospitals are awesome because you can make out in your pajamas. And everyone is okay with it because you might be dying.

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July 12, 2006

Last night they offered me another night to DJ. This time it would be all night and in the back room playing dancier music. But the one thing I've been happy and content with in two years of New York is DJ'ing happy hour tuesdays. It's also the longest job I've ever held. Last night was too much fun to start something new.

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If the new Killers albums is as good as it's supposed to be then it won't matter that I listen to this snip of their new song "When You Were Young"

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July 11, 2006

Wouldn't it be really great if you could find all the people you aren't friends with anymore and take away the gMail invites you gave them?

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Those assholes from Olde English are in my apartment filming a sketch that will be out later this week. They're really funny in person because they're always working on jokes. Everytime they turn the camera off someone launches into a bit that everyone else picks up on. Dave: "Doesn't it kind of give away the ending that they call it The Virgin Suicides?" Ben: "You find out on the second page that they commit suicide." Raizin: "No, you find out on the title page." Dave: "Then what's the rest of the book about?" Ben: "One of them commits suicide in the beginning. And the rest are at the end." Raizin: "Well, thanks for ruining the ending."

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For some reason it really gets to me when people call themselves poets.

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July 10, 2006

It's not the story, the characters or the ending that is the hard part. It's figuring out a voice that feels like you didn't have to figure it out.

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July 08, 2006

I wish that everyone I knew was into Wasted.mp3 by Black Flag instead of "You Gotta Fight." It's shorter and funnier and a pubescent zeitgeist could move through the bar, stirring the teenage emotions of everyon you know for a minute and a half of air-guitar and sing alongs before we go back to talking about Proust and Jack Black and the state of the Catholic church.

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July 04, 2006

New years, thanksgiving, St. Pat's, and now the fireworks I always have to work during the fun.

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July 03, 2006

There still is nothing worse/funnier than honking the horn while someone is under the hood.

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Rule #224 No matter how much storage area there is in cargo shorts, the man wearing them will always keep his cellphone on a belt clip.

Rule #225 When six people order six bottles of wine at dinner together, the sixth funniest person will resort to clap-laughing.

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This weekend I'm busy visiting my parents and secretly researching a new novel that will center around a former refugee from Connecticut who is forced to return home. My brother just walked in and introduced me to a great song that embodies the spirit that I'm hoping to achieve:
Jesus H Christ Band - Connecticut is for Fucking
We live in the dullest state
Package stores all close at eight
Malls are full of optometrists
And restaurants we hate
Swimming across Lake Quassapaug
Stealing makeup, catching frogs
Cutting our feet on broken bottles
As we wade in the Shepaug
It’s true for horses, cows and dogs…

Connecticut’s for fucking
That’s all there is to do.
I love to listen to classic rock
and have sex with you.

Doing hole shots at the mall
Writing Ozzy on a wall
Watch the corn get tall
There’s nothing else to do at all.

Goin’ where we always go
Doin’ what we always do
Waitin’ to turn into the people
We are bound to turn into.
What else do other people do?

Connecticut’s for fucking
It’s the Nutmeg state
If we can’t afford to buy antiques
then we just copulate

Connecticut’s for fucking
And Massachusetts too
I want to climb up the sleepy giant
and have sex with you.

Up in Fairfield
In Old Lyme
We’re just fucking all the time.
Out in Derby
Down in Kent
We’re all busy getting bent
In the Constitution State.

Connecticut’s for fucking
While we’re waiting to
Turn into the people
everyone here turns into.

Connecticut’s for fucking.
There’s nothing else to do.
I wanna listen to classic rock and have sex with you.

We all love to fuck in Connecticut.
We’re all getting fucked in Connecticut.
Let’s fuck!
Labels: Novel

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Secret to Happiness