God Bless You

I am sure many of you have heard me ranting about saying "bless you" after one sneezes, but this really has me bothered so I shall not be silenced yet. I am aware of the multiple origins of the practice, so I am not asking where it came from. I am wondering why we still do it, and yes I am aware that the answer is most likely tradition. This bothers me though and I shall explain why later, for now let us dive into this sneezing problem...

Someone near me sneezes, without thinking really I say, bless you. After that, they then say to me thank you. I then go on to live my unexamined life and eat toast. NOT!!! Why did I just say that? And why did they thank me? It's not like when one expels gas from their body and they say excuse me. I understand that in many societies it is rude to belch or pass gas in a public setting for their expel unpleasant noises and smells. Hence you say excuse me post releasing the gas. It is not the case for sneezing. Sneezing is an action your body performs without you have much say, you can try very very hard to not sneeze, but let's face it... it's gonna happen. And unless you send mucus and saliva onto someone's body or property it really does not harm anyone else. So why do they say bless you after you sneeze?

One of the origins of this practice is that it came from back when the black plague was still relevant. If one were to sneeze, it probably meant they had the plague and they were fucked, so you said bless you to them for their time was limited. Another theory is that people believed that when you sneezed you were expelling demons from your body. Another very unrealistic theory I have heard is that when you sneeze your heart stops beating for a moment so you said bless you to the sneezer for they could have died. Now unless you are stuck in the past or are way way way into evil demon stuff I doubt these thoughts cross your mind when you hear someone sneeze.

We say bless you because we have been programmed to. I know that the only reason why I say it without a second though was that I was brought up that way, and always heard my parents say it. Let's break this down. You get a tickle in your nose, and you then sneeze. Someone near you says bless you. All they have just done is let you know that they have taken note of the fact that you just expelled some foreign object from your nose that was not supposed to be there. Keep in mind that this could also be done with them saying, "You sneezed", or, "Great job expelling objects from your nose!" or by not just saying anything at all, because who really cares if people know if you sneeze or not. After they have made it known that they know you have sneezed, you then thank them for noticing. Yeah I think it sounds pretty stupid too...

Now I know this is all rather dumb to break down and spell out, but I do have a point. Millions of people do this everyday and never question why. They do it simply because that is what is done. This scares me for the fact that I begin to then think what else is done and thought and put into common practice every day that we never question? What have we all been programmed to do? Not that all of these traditions are bad, but it has the potential to. Please question things, please step back and ask why. You will feel a lot better about yourself, and perhaps your can sneeze without obligations anymore.

Now it's MUSIC TIME!!!

I just like this song, no real reason other then the fact that it's Matt and Kim and they kick butt.

Matt and Kim - I'll Take Us Home (<----- Click there to listen, right click and go to save as to download)

Lyrics:

pull out all the stops
we are coming home tonight
a pair of old boxing gloves
in a new fight
where every single scar
well it means something to me
as if life wrote down my history

bottles and road signs
sound like tires on bent wheels
our hands and feet and ordinary thrills
when we unlocked all the doors
just so we could finally breathe
just so we could sew down these torn up sleeves

here we stand with a wolf like shadow
here we stand in the end
hey New York here's our wolf like shadow
hey New York our old friend

this roof could be my bed
blankets feel like the night sky
blankets feel better the heavier they get
red lights can mean go
I'll take us home
I'll take us home
cut down the blinds from my windows
I stood back on the couch
remembered this is my life
with my hands over my head
friends by my side

here is where we'll go
I'll take us home

Poison Oak

I really have nothing to say, this song speaks for itself. I wish I had the ability to capture emotion like Bright Eyes. Jeez. Listening to this song makes me wanna smoke a cigarette and walk around in the rain. Sometimes it's what you need. I could only find a live version of the song, it's still great but if you can try to find the album version. It'll rip your heart out and then hug it.

Poison Oak Live

Lyrics:

Poison oak, some boyhood bravery
When the telephone was a tin can on a string
And I fell asleep with you still talking to me
You said you weren't afraid to die
In Polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes
Were you made ashamed, why'd you lock them in a drawer?
Well, I don't think that I ever loved you more

Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door
When you stole the car and drove towards Mexico
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm
I was young enough, I still believed in war

Well let the poets cry themselves to sleep
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam

But me, I'm a single cell on the serpent's tongue
There's a muddy field where a garden was
And I'm glad you got away but I'm still stuck out here
My clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears

And I never thought this life was possible
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for

The end of paralysis, I was a statuette
Now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench
And when I press the keys it all gets reversed
The sound of loneliness makes me happier

There is an Inherent Beauty in a Can of Soup

POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART POP ART 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Social Whore

I find it odd that as the number of social networking and community based site I join, this greater sense of accomplishment I begin to feel. The reason for this odd feeling is that pretty much the same group of friends are the only ones that use these sites, which means that I can now talk to the same group of about 10 people face to face, on the phone, through texting, on facebook, myspace, Twitter, Blogger, Last FM, and Youtube. I also have recently created a vimeo and a imeem account. In the near future I can envision a creation of a flicker, a photobucket, and maybe I will even get around to using the livejournal account I created. What is the meaning of all of these sites and why do they make me feel good? I just feel like I am running away from something. Or maybe it's that false sense of belonging which is really just assimilation? I don;t know, I just don't want to get sucked into it and become one of those people who constantly references things that happened on forums I am on which I am catching myself doing already. Any advice?

Anyway here is your song of the... well I don't really post daily or weekly or on any regular schedule. So here is your fucking song. That's what it's called.

Click here to listen, or right click on it and go to save as and take it fo free.

This is Avril 14th by Aphex Twin. I have fallen asleep to this song more than any other song, and if my memory serves me correctly it is the most played song in my library. Listening to this prior or whilst sleeping may cause immense levels of calmness and amazing dreams. Enjoy :D

Lyrics:

Amazing piano noises

3's and Bears

I am not sure how many of you (though I have an idea) read my "Until the Blue Came" post from last month (which can be found here or you scroll down, I am just here for all you lazy folks) but last night I created a video piece that goes with it. Now there is the poem, a song, and something to look at (I know I am milking the hell out it, sorry...). It's nothing too complex, and is actually very simple, which I think works for it. Anyway the video can be found if you click here. I have had my YouTube account for a while, but I only really post my friends being idiots or my other friend's band. I want to start utilizing it and my camera, so I would like some input. I don't want to turn into one of those youtubers who just create videos where they are talking at the camera all the time. I like those videos if it is the right person talking, but I fear I cannot put out enough wit on a regular basis to compete with them. So instead I will make more substance-filled (in other words pretentious bullshit) that can be arty (lame) and whatnot. Please let me know what you think.

And now comes the time where I shove music down you throats.

Click here and listen.

I was recently asked what is the best song that has come this year (so I thought, I suppose I made that question up myself) and in regards to this year I would have to say it would be the song Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear. I am not quite sure what it is about it, makes me think of old 70's film where everything had a fuzzy yellow filter over it and all the men and women wore the same bell bottoms, button-up shirts, and had the same shoulder length ugly wavy hair. Sounds like a lazy Summer day, laying on a grassy hill waiting for something significant to happen.

Lyrics:

Save up all the days
A routine malaise
Just like yesterday
I told you I would stay

Would you always
Maybe sometimes
Make it easy
Take your time

Think of all the ways
Momentary phase
Just like yesterday
I told you I would stay

Every time you try
Quarter half the mile
Just like yesterday
I told you I would stay

Would you always
Maybe sometimes
Make it easy
Take your time

Bittersweet Poems About Mini-Wheats

Now before we open this can of worms any further let me state that I love Frosted Mini-Wheats. While my love for this amazing cereal is pure and undying, there underlies some ugliness in our relationship...

Imagine me walking into the grocery store. Do it... Ok, usually when I am there I kinda wander around and when I see something I want I walk up to it and take it, pretty straight forward. This means I rarely go there with any intention of purchasing anything, except for one thing. I home in on the cereal isle and go directly to that sexy orange box of amazing mouthgasms and I take it and I hug it and kiss it and undue it's bra and... well you can see where this is going. Upon return to my house post being at the grocery store, I put all my food stuffs away EXCEPT for the orange box. The thought of waiting till an appropriate time to have a bowl of cereal is just insane, unless an appropriate time to have a bowl of cereal is circa right-the-fuck-now. I rip that box open and pour it's guts into a bowl, Jackson Pollock some milk on it (imagine milk being thrown at it in a abstract pretentious way), and dive in. Yum sex food yums.

This amazingness continues for the rest of the box until the last god damn bowl. You see the thing about Frosted Mini-Wheats is that it is kind of flaky in nature. This means that while you have this great unique texture to interact with in your mouth (or where ever you enjoy putting the cereal in/on/around your body), the cereal is constantly shedding parts of its body. Due to our lovely planet and its gravity, these shredded pieces gradually collect on the bottom of the bag. When you go to pour that last bowl of cereal, all of these shredding fall into your bowl. Now even though my love for the cereal burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns, this pisses me off. These shreds, these LIES are not the cereal I want. They are so tiny there is no sense of frosting on them, and they instantly soggify (yes that is a word don't look it up). This is a problem, for one of my biggest attractions to said cereal is it's crunch. So I am left with a bowl of gold turned to shit.

There is one solution to this problem and that is to stick your hand in the bag and pull out all the intact mini-wheats and place them in your bowl. This presents a problem though, for as human nature dictates: One's love of cereal must never compromise one's sense of laziness. So I eat the bowl of shit and then I hate it. Life is so hard sometimes... sigh

In other more music and less cereal related news, everyone here NEEDS to listen to Ugly Casanova (being Isaac Brock's (the lead singer of Modest Mouse) side project). Imagine a heavily sedated Modest Mouse where Brock actually sings and doesn't do his Isaac Brock thing. While I love his Issac Brock thing, Ugly Casanova is a really nice relaxing way to get that kick ass feeling of listening to Modest Mouse.

Here is a link to download the whole album:



Ugly Casanova - Sharpen Your Teeth

Here are some links to some of my favorites off of the album:

Hotcha Girls - Ugly Casanova
Barnacles - Ugly Casanova

Lyrics:

Hotcha Girls

smells like autumn, smells like leaves
you don't know that you'll rust and not belong so much
and then get left alone
suck it up, take a ride and take a walk
and don't you know that old folks' homes smell so much like my own.
the hotcha girls at the palisades
dime store keets, pretty birds, pretty mouths.
mama's little truck stop rose, her dancy feet her happy laugh.
we were dropping dimes on the ponies in the cul-de-sac,
casting shadows throwing sparks.
we left our teeth marks on the barrel of the gun,
the clipper ship across your chest.
turns out the pony only had one trick, a wink for the truck stop boys.
they learned it all from the polaroids.
smells like autumn smells like leaves,
you don't know that you'll rust and not belong so much
and then get left alone.
suck it up, take a ride and take a walk
and don't you know that old folks' homes smell so much like my own.
time blends light, paint's all peeling, wait outside, take four rights.
the hotcha girls in the palisades
dime store keets, pretty birds, pretty mouths.
glass eyes and the wooden teeth,
the engine's rusting in deep deep sleep, it waits.
the mail came from miles away, the postal man is always late,
and we wait and we wait.
tight lipped with a big ol mouth,
the government workers all headed south while it rained.
glassy eyes and wooden teeth, the engine rusted in deep deep sleep
it waits, and it waits, to awake.

Barnacles

i don't really need to see
so i don't need to see so i'll paint
i don't know, i'll paint it black
i don't need to see
i don't see how you see out of your window
i don't need to see, i'll paint mine black
i don't need to see
i don't see how you see out of your window
i don't need to see i'll paint mine black

i don't know me and you don't know you
so we fit so good together
'cause i knew you like i knew myself
we clung on like barnacles on a boat
even though the ship sinks you know you can't let go
i was talking like two hands knocking
yelling 'let me in, let me in, please come out.'

black glass, dirt-based soap,
tell yourself what you know.
my friends, oh my friends,
bury your head i'll help you bury your hands.
hard hit, hard to miss, problems are what a problem is.

my light it came up quick, call it your asterisk,
buried in a boys and boys first book of the stars
saw it a satellite
constant unblinking eyes
buried in the bottom in the bottom of a brackish lake