Bono on Martin
Friday February 27th 2009, 9:43 am
Filed under: Miscellaneous, Truly Tags:

“Radio 1 also apologised on-air immediately after Bono used an expletive to describe Coldplay’s lead singer Chris Martin.

The BBC said it had received no complaints about it. ”

From the country that registers thousands of complaints about atheist buses, and where “Duty Log Mental” is one of the most brilliant things Holy Moly publishes,  this is saying something.


categories and annexes
Sunday February 22nd 2009, 1:32 am
Filed under: Boozy,exit pursued by a bear,memory,New York,nostalgia,Oxford,reminiscence,self-indulgent Tags:

A friend (?) asked.  Well, an ex, really, an ex who preceded all the exes, and therefore isn’t really an ex.  My first girlfriend, qualified by “real”, as the first girlfriend was batshit crazy, setting a trend it took a long time to recover from.  Someone I treated much worse than she deserved, which is hardly unique, but definitely came far earlier in my life than I’d realized.  Anyways (and a wave to those, not reading, who are greeted there), slightly more than chainlink-fence style, I decided to let her “in” as much as this shit is in, and pointed her, well, here.  And the first question was “What happened to April 05-March 06?”  There are procedural answers to that – in direst poverty, I let the domain lapse because I couldn’t afford the 30 bucks, and hadn’t turned back to blogger yet.  (I used to date my life by girls I was dating, or failing that, apartments in which I was living.  The last almost 3 years (!) have required far greater granularity, what with the YCT for all of ’em, and functionally the two residences since Aug. 06.  Crazy, that).  Apartment-wise, we’re looking at the UWS for that April,  via the West Village, a spot on everyone’s floor or couch or aerobed by July (Thanks Lis and Jax) to the East Village by the end of it, call it Sept to May.  Geography aside, it was the end of admitting I wouldn’t get the jobs I thought I would get through to the job I got, minus all the drama of the moment, the life experienced.  There was an awful lot of booze, and an awful lot of forgetting, and a very little remembering, as well, along with decisions that echo through until today. I’ve known for ages that I write in moments of transition, and the March 06 writing marks the transition of YCT entering my life – the “six weeks to capital T trouble” that has me (yay) getting wed in less than five weeks.  In less time than a handful of “relationships” I’ve had, and less than double of a much larger number of what I term those, I’m getting married.  And it is good.  But what happened before then?  A letting go of England, a killing of hope, a letting go of pride, a reconciliation between the me I’d left behind and the me that had left in the first place and the me that came back (three really awkward guys stuck in a room without much to talk about), peace with what I had done and who I had become, the answers to what I’d learned from a relationship I never thought would end that ended, and the letting go of a place that is always there but never lets you in.  What happened when I stopped writing, other than I had stopped writing?  As well ask what happened between the loss of my journals in Oct 98 and the creation of TPT in 2k3 a few months before I left Oxford the first time, even if the journals were functionally dead well before their loss in 98.  As well ask what happened in all the long months where there has been much to write about, and I haven’t as those in which nothing much happened, and I didn’t.  Perhaps what pissed me off most about Slumdog Millionaire was the idea that memories had use-value – how convenient your mother died in Muslim/Hindu violence – therefore you can answer this question.  How awesome you were abused and abducted by sadistic capitalists, because now you can answer this question.  I cherish my life, written and unwritten, known and unknown, for precisely its lack of value.  I wed with no secrets, knowing, even, that the continuity of existence is solipsistically inexpressible, but that doesn’t bother me any more.  What happened in that year?  Really, not much.  Really, everything that explains where I am now – I got the job, I got the girl, I moved from radical contingency and the despair of uncertainty  to the tidy safety of my well-sheltered existence, from defiant outsider to respected insider.  And both are true – not much, everything. 11 months….who knows. Probably doesn’t matter.  But I’m glad they happened.

to the man
Saturday February 21st 2009, 9:42 pm
Filed under: Berkeley,Miscellaneous, Truly Tags:

To the man, many many years ago. To the man who put his hands on my hips and said “If you’re not moving your ass, you’re not dancing.”

Tuesday February 03rd 2009, 7:34 am
Filed under: procrastination,quotation Tags:

From Bolaño’s 2666, “It’s always important to ask questions, and it’s important to ask yourself why you ask the questions you ask. And do you know why? Because just one slip and our questions take us places we don’t want to go…Our questions are, by definition, suspect. But we have to ask them. And that’s the most fucked-up thing of all. That’s life.”