Friday, June 03, 2005 at 12:50:14 (EDT)

Sex and drugs and rock'n'roll is all my brain and body need
As you know, I've been writing little music blurbs for the NY Press for a few weeks now. It's a nice little outlet, since I see a lot of bands anyway, and nobody I know wants to hear about it. It's low pressure, and up until recently I thought there wasn't much attention paid to it. I still don't know what kind of person reads the Press, I mean, I know people read it, but I'm unsure what the Readership is supposed to be. Anyway, I've been noticing that my blurbs keep getting severely edited by the time they reach the paper, not just for length and clarity, but for content. The editor keeps changing entire phrases in these little 100-word bits to suit some perceived demographic need. And it's pissing me off!

I think they're expecting me to be some kind of super-gonzo, drugged-out hipster type, who says "crazy" stuff about the "crazy" bands I see, common sense be damned. So my previews are now littered with odd phrases like "spattering the audience with vomit and cheese," or describing a band's sound with "a telegraph tapping out: 'good news, your mother's dead!'" I haven't the slightest idea why this is better than the stuff i wrote originally, and I sort of don't care. It seems like if they want people to write about bands, then they should accept what they get (nobody gets paid for these little articles anyway). If they have a problem with my writing style, they could give me some pointers instead of this passive-aggressive crap they sling on my pieces. It's as though they don't really want somebody writing realistically about what's going on in the music scene; they want somebody to make the paper sound like it's cooler than it actually is. Well, I've never been able to make anything sound cool, and even if I could, I doubt I'd want this paper to benefit.

But maybe I should just learn to play ball. It's a nice opportunity, and as I have learned, content itself is not much thought of in this world, it's all about style. You can have the lamest band in the world, but if you hype it up as The Next Big Thing, people will eventually fall in line. Same with writing, or any other art. These days, it's not about what you do but how many people are talking about it. Thanks to smart people like Nick Denton, content is just commodity. Nobody cares what you say. So here's my new piece for the preview section:

Man, I am still high from the last show by The Crummies. High on sniffin' that high-octane rock, and also high on Tina which the lead singer gave me after I blew him in the toilet. That's dedication to the Rock Scene. He knows what to do with the panty-waists who can't handle the angular-dissonant-atmospheric-soundscape sturm und drang he lays down: he says "all you posers can suck my pimply dick." And suck we do. With influences as far ranging as The Strokes to the Ramones, The Crummies aren't afraid to make enemies. Armed with three chords, more whiskey than your mother can drink in a day, and their hot chick fanbase, they shred through gigs like John DeLorean through bing. But you know what? You ain't hard enough for this supa-dupa-fly maximum drunken-roll. Get in line, ya sissies. The Crummies are talent-free and looking for head. Open wide!

Sounds pretty good! Maybe I should just replace the band name with "Motico" and then sit back and watch the NYU kids stream into Ace of Clubs on Sunday (we play at 10:00 PM). Will I be propositioned in the men's room? Yes, that's exactly why I started playing music in the first place. Who wants to perform fellatio on us Sunday night? Come out to the show and we'll see what we can do.

Posted By Jimmy Legs | Non-PermaLink

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Wednesday, June 01, 2005 at 10:55:57 (EDT)

Papa was a rolling stone
There has been much speculation over the years as to the paternity of Pinky the cat's children, Maurice and Leroy. Well, I think I finally figured it out: it's the neighbor's cat. I have noticed this cat over the years (and more than once found him on my patio) but it wasn't until the kittens reached full size that I realized the similarities. I got a picture of him the other day (it would have been better but I felt kind of creepy taking pictures of the neighbor's cat). Leroy came out looking a lot like Pinky, while Maurice is mostly white with a couple of spots on him. The cat across the street supports this marking convention, but the real clincher for me is its weight: Both Leroy and Maurice are long, lanky cats, almost oddly so, whereas their mother is more normally shaped. This alleged father cat is also pretty lanky (hard to see in the photos but I assure you my detective work is beyond reproach).


Deadbeat Dad?
Unwed Teenage Mother

The Spawn of a Broken Home

Sorry I don't have any newer pictures of the kittens, I had to swipe these from Abby and Liz's sites. Hmm, I guess neither parent cat has Maurice's little 'goatee' thing but I still stand by my concusions.

Posted By Jimmy Legs | Non-PermaLink

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Wednesday, June 01, 2005 at 09:32:44 (EDT)

I wanna show you party scenes you've never seen before

Hubcap doesn't dig on barbecues


Posted By Jimmy Legs | Non-PermaLink
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Tuesday, May 31, 2005 at 13:31:23 (EDT)

You can forget all about me
Well, that was fun. About once a year I like to reformat my main hard drive. Given my penchant for putting forth only 90% effort in any endeavor I managed to screw a bunch of stuff up in this process and only now and getting back to normal. I won't bore you with the details (that's what cat pictures are for!), but I will say I may need people to volunteer their email addresses to the Motico email list, as it has been effectively obliterated. So it's not all bad, right? If you didn't wanna be on the list in the first place, your prayers have been answered. Unfortunately, everybody whose email I already know are screwed and will find themselves back on the list shortly.

Posted By Jimmy Legs | Non-PermaLink
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