Earnest was caught speaking to a condom this afternoon. It was a brand new Trojan Intense Ribbed Ultrasmooth Lubricant condom in a mustard yellow wrapper. He found it under some papers, in a place he had forgotten he put it. He was alone, so it was he who caught himself talking. He said, before he noticed he was talking crazily to a condom, "ah, that would be nice..."
I cannot blog here anymore because this site is doing very strange things. Like when I type an apostrophe, it opens an odd menu. I cannot write without apostrophes. I will not write without contractions. It is sounding unnatural.
But I wanted to part with this observation, which occurred to me tonight while watching a dance band of a certain popular foreign culture. A macho man had cut in front of me in line, reminding me of my six months in South America.
The thought I had was: "if I do not value or respect my own culture, why on earth should I value yours, when it is clearly just as stupid."
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
real connections are easy and everywhere, sex is not
Mouthy ducks, screaming up at me from the mud for not feeding them. They've got to learn to go eat naturally. There are no more French fries on the creek.
Earnest attracted another mentally ill woman online tonight.
As the chorus of the latest country hit says, "Hey, whoop-dee-do"
Anyway, the mentally ill woman wrote:
"I don't know if you're for real or just looking for sex. My friend says people on cl mainly have the latter in mind. I like the real. Sex is easy and everywhere, real connections are not. A friend first would be nice. Hopefully you are not married."
For Earnest, real connections are easy and everywhere, sex is not.
Who is to blame, he wonders, for this conundrum?
Earnest attracted another mentally ill woman online tonight.
As the chorus of the latest country hit says, "Hey, whoop-dee-do"
Anyway, the mentally ill woman wrote:
"I don't know if you're for real or just looking for sex. My friend says people on cl mainly have the latter in mind. I like the real. Sex is easy and everywhere, real connections are not. A friend first would be nice. Hopefully you are not married."
For Earnest, real connections are easy and everywhere, sex is not.
Who is to blame, he wonders, for this conundrum?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
My favorite radio station ASKED for emails regarding their decision. So you see they ASKED for it.
I heard the announcement today about the program changes.
The reasoning you're giving on-air is perfectly honest: "listenership has remained flat during those weekday night shows while it's doubled during other programming."
You could say the same about many aspects of local or regional cultural flavor that remains in Austin: just like the listenership of KUT grows, the general population grows, and as a result, what made it a special radio station, or a special place, to begin with, is diluted. Your income as a station has more than doubled, or whatever, and most of that money has come from people new to the area, naturally.
But just like people have been reacting with "keep Austin weird" in this town, with panic in their eyes, I find myself reacting with "please, keep KUT, KUT."
Or, go plow right ahead with your goals to become more broadly palatable, like WXPN or KCRW, which no longer transmit with any detectable local or regional flavor.
That way, as you explained quite plainly today, you'll be able to continue to make more money during these hard economic times. How can I make a persuasive argument against that, when whoever may or may not read this wants a steady income during a time when most of us are taking financial hits? Who can blame you for wanting a comfortable salary?
But if you care about KUT as a one-of-a-kind cultural institution like I do, and if you take your very own logic, and project it into the future, look what you get: total dilution. A radio station and indeed a local culture indistinguishable from any other in the country. That's where you are headed. I suspect you don't even realize that your own on-air announcement today prescribes exactly that: "my paycheck is more important than your silly local and regional musical flavor" is a fair paraphrase.
I personally owe Larry Monroe and Paul Rey a vast portion of my appreciation and knowledge of the very best local and regionally distinctive music that makes Austin and, until now, KUT, unique in the world. There has been no other station like it, even in the age of internet and satellite radio. For 12 years I lived in other places, streaming KUT online almost daily just to listen to the very shows you are now bulldozing.
Your justifications to make room for more generic and marketable music is the exactly same as what developers use to bulldoze historic buildings, because modern condos are without question much more profitable. You admit it in your own on-air announcement. And who can argue with the developer who says "we're so sorry to do this, but you must understand that these new condos are 100% more profitable for us..."
Hey-- I'll simply follow my favorite deejays and their unwanted kind wherever they go. Just like I followed Bob Edwards to satellite radio when NPR bulldozed his historic ass to make way for something much more hip and marketable.
By the way, what do you think the musicians-- I mean the living Austin legends-- what do you suppose they think of your profitable little demolition scheme? Did you run it by any of them yet? I mean, they're only the musicians that created the music that built the station you now enjoy a paycheck from. Do you think Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, Nanci Griffith and the like think what you are doing is just totally cool and understandable because of needing to maintain your salaries during a depression? Do you even care anymore?
How about if we keep the classic, heroic, world-class, one-of-a-kind deejays and their encyclopedic regional music knowledge, get rid of whoever you are? The station could be run just as well with the talents of volunteers and students, keeping the senior on air talent perfectly intact, "during these hard economic times."
And whoever YOU are, bulldozing old unprofitable institutions, YOU can simply move to another city and work for a more generic public radio station that suits your tastes better and will always alter its programming in order to sustain your paycheck, no matter what? That way everybody's happy-- you get your guaranteed income, and we get to keep the unique character of our radio station.
What if the senior on-air talent isn't the real problem here, rather, it's KUT's finance people and their stats and projections? How many hundred thousand are saved if you cut them out instead, and keep the only programming that distinguishes you from every other public radio station in the country?
Look, I'm only 37 years old, but I know exactly what's driving this change, I see where you're headed with it, and I know what these people who are creating your cozy paycheck are going to turn KUT into. It's sad but so are a lot of similar things these days.
Thank God for satellite and internet radio! I will support my heroes there!
The reasoning you're giving on-air is perfectly honest: "listenership has remained flat during those weekday night shows while it's doubled during other programming."
You could say the same about many aspects of local or regional cultural flavor that remains in Austin: just like the listenership of KUT grows, the general population grows, and as a result, what made it a special radio station, or a special place, to begin with, is diluted. Your income as a station has more than doubled, or whatever, and most of that money has come from people new to the area, naturally.
But just like people have been reacting with "keep Austin weird" in this town, with panic in their eyes, I find myself reacting with "please, keep KUT, KUT."
Or, go plow right ahead with your goals to become more broadly palatable, like WXPN or KCRW, which no longer transmit with any detectable local or regional flavor.
That way, as you explained quite plainly today, you'll be able to continue to make more money during these hard economic times. How can I make a persuasive argument against that, when whoever may or may not read this wants a steady income during a time when most of us are taking financial hits? Who can blame you for wanting a comfortable salary?
But if you care about KUT as a one-of-a-kind cultural institution like I do, and if you take your very own logic, and project it into the future, look what you get: total dilution. A radio station and indeed a local culture indistinguishable from any other in the country. That's where you are headed. I suspect you don't even realize that your own on-air announcement today prescribes exactly that: "my paycheck is more important than your silly local and regional musical flavor" is a fair paraphrase.
I personally owe Larry Monroe and Paul Rey a vast portion of my appreciation and knowledge of the very best local and regionally distinctive music that makes Austin and, until now, KUT, unique in the world. There has been no other station like it, even in the age of internet and satellite radio. For 12 years I lived in other places, streaming KUT online almost daily just to listen to the very shows you are now bulldozing.
Your justifications to make room for more generic and marketable music is the exactly same as what developers use to bulldoze historic buildings, because modern condos are without question much more profitable. You admit it in your own on-air announcement. And who can argue with the developer who says "we're so sorry to do this, but you must understand that these new condos are 100% more profitable for us..."
Hey-- I'll simply follow my favorite deejays and their unwanted kind wherever they go. Just like I followed Bob Edwards to satellite radio when NPR bulldozed his historic ass to make way for something much more hip and marketable.
By the way, what do you think the musicians-- I mean the living Austin legends-- what do you suppose they think of your profitable little demolition scheme? Did you run it by any of them yet? I mean, they're only the musicians that created the music that built the station you now enjoy a paycheck from. Do you think Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, Nanci Griffith and the like think what you are doing is just totally cool and understandable because of needing to maintain your salaries during a depression? Do you even care anymore?
How about if we keep the classic, heroic, world-class, one-of-a-kind deejays and their encyclopedic regional music knowledge, get rid of whoever you are? The station could be run just as well with the talents of volunteers and students, keeping the senior on air talent perfectly intact, "during these hard economic times."
And whoever YOU are, bulldozing old unprofitable institutions, YOU can simply move to another city and work for a more generic public radio station that suits your tastes better and will always alter its programming in order to sustain your paycheck, no matter what? That way everybody's happy-- you get your guaranteed income, and we get to keep the unique character of our radio station.
What if the senior on-air talent isn't the real problem here, rather, it's KUT's finance people and their stats and projections? How many hundred thousand are saved if you cut them out instead, and keep the only programming that distinguishes you from every other public radio station in the country?
Look, I'm only 37 years old, but I know exactly what's driving this change, I see where you're headed with it, and I know what these people who are creating your cozy paycheck are going to turn KUT into. It's sad but so are a lot of similar things these days.
Thank God for satellite and internet radio! I will support my heroes there!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
GREAT NEWS
All day I thought I was going to post this incredible blog tonight. It was going to start like this:
"I was thinking to myself today, I love my new job, working on the water, though the scenery sets a post-apocalyptic tone in places because of the drought and the vast areas of exposed garbage-strewn mud that was recently hidden lake bottom. And as I was thinking this to myself, I noticed a tornado. Granted it was a very small one-- technically a whirlwind, I suppose, but it was distinct and at least 20 feet high and whipping up leaves and dust like a blender..."
Or something like that.
But instead of posting, I went over to the fountain next to the ClearChannel HQ across the street, next to the cafe I've been going to almost nightly. Tonight was salsa night and I skipped it. Why try to train a dead horse, I figure.
But the fountain area is somewhat secluded at night, and I could open up and sing, which I can't really do here in the apartment. Not REALLY. Not without irritating someone or other. Especially not at midnight.
So I did that for an hour. Even that was magical, because as I strummed the first chords of Steve Earle's "And the Rain Came Down" which is both a traditional starting tune for me and an actual prayer for central Texas weather, the frogs started in. And I swear, it was in key. The frogs were singing the same cliche G C D I was strumming as the intro to this first country tune I ever learned. And then we were trading verses. Okay go think I'm exaggerating or tripping. I don't blame you. But you weren't there. I heard what I heard.
Then I came back home just now, reciprocated the love fest the dogs greeted me with, and sat down to write something really profound and journalistic about my new job on the drought-damaged lake. Or about these bands I'm going to be mixing.
But first I opened my email box, out of impulse. Nothing, but okay it's late and I got plenty of great email and other messages today. Still, I opened my hotmail box, which is all spam these days and I rarely open it. It had the latest spam newsletter from a genius dating guru who I signed up for by mistake maybe six years ago or more, and never bothered to remove myself from, once I noticed what an unsung genius of psychology he is, though I've never bothered to buy his e-book or anything.
Anyway, his spam newsletter today said the following, and once I read it, I only felt like cutting and pasting it here, instead of wasting more of my time writing my own words:
First off, I want to mention that LIFE isn't
fair. In case you haven't noticed, almost NOTHING
is fair.
Fairness is an idea that people have created. I
think we probably created the concept to torture
ourselves, in fact.
Here are a few ways that life isn't "fair", as
the concept relates to women and dating:
1) Some men are taller, and some are shorter.
Women tend to prefer taller men. How unfair.
2) A very small portion of the women that are
alive are as perfect and beautiful as the women in
magazines, and therefore it's
impossible for every man to have a woman that is
this beautiful. How unfair.
3) Many men go their entire lives without ever
having sex. How unfair.
4) Some men have sex with hundreds or even
thousands of women in their lives. How unfair.
5) Some men know the secrets of creating that
magical emotion called ATTRACTION inside of women
even though they aren't rich, handsome, tall, etc.
and wind up having their choice of beautiful young
women. How unfair.
The point I'm trying to make is that LIFE
ISN'T FAIR!
Dating isn't fair, either.
Sometimes a woman will respond positively to
you, then the next day she'll act strange.
Sometimes a specific technique will work for
you, and sometimes it won't.
Sometimes you'll feel great and confident
inside, and sometimes you won't.
Now, most people don't like the idea that life
(and dating) aren't fair. They get upset when
things don't go their way, place too much meaning
on things that happen to them and responses they
get from women, and generally act like life should
be different.
Of course, this is CRAZY.
The more that I realized this fact... that life
just isn't fair... the more that I realized
another PROFOUND truth:
IT'S GREAT NEWS!
"I was thinking to myself today, I love my new job, working on the water, though the scenery sets a post-apocalyptic tone in places because of the drought and the vast areas of exposed garbage-strewn mud that was recently hidden lake bottom. And as I was thinking this to myself, I noticed a tornado. Granted it was a very small one-- technically a whirlwind, I suppose, but it was distinct and at least 20 feet high and whipping up leaves and dust like a blender..."
Or something like that.
But instead of posting, I went over to the fountain next to the ClearChannel HQ across the street, next to the cafe I've been going to almost nightly. Tonight was salsa night and I skipped it. Why try to train a dead horse, I figure.
But the fountain area is somewhat secluded at night, and I could open up and sing, which I can't really do here in the apartment. Not REALLY. Not without irritating someone or other. Especially not at midnight.
So I did that for an hour. Even that was magical, because as I strummed the first chords of Steve Earle's "And the Rain Came Down" which is both a traditional starting tune for me and an actual prayer for central Texas weather, the frogs started in. And I swear, it was in key. The frogs were singing the same cliche G C D I was strumming as the intro to this first country tune I ever learned. And then we were trading verses. Okay go think I'm exaggerating or tripping. I don't blame you. But you weren't there. I heard what I heard.
Then I came back home just now, reciprocated the love fest the dogs greeted me with, and sat down to write something really profound and journalistic about my new job on the drought-damaged lake. Or about these bands I'm going to be mixing.
But first I opened my email box, out of impulse. Nothing, but okay it's late and I got plenty of great email and other messages today. Still, I opened my hotmail box, which is all spam these days and I rarely open it. It had the latest spam newsletter from a genius dating guru who I signed up for by mistake maybe six years ago or more, and never bothered to remove myself from, once I noticed what an unsung genius of psychology he is, though I've never bothered to buy his e-book or anything.
Anyway, his spam newsletter today said the following, and once I read it, I only felt like cutting and pasting it here, instead of wasting more of my time writing my own words:
First off, I want to mention that LIFE isn't
fair. In case you haven't noticed, almost NOTHING
is fair.
Fairness is an idea that people have created. I
think we probably created the concept to torture
ourselves, in fact.
Here are a few ways that life isn't "fair", as
the concept relates to women and dating:
1) Some men are taller, and some are shorter.
Women tend to prefer taller men. How unfair.
2) A very small portion of the women that are
alive are as perfect and beautiful as the women in
magazines, and therefore it's
impossible for every man to have a woman that is
this beautiful. How unfair.
3) Many men go their entire lives without ever
having sex. How unfair.
4) Some men have sex with hundreds or even
thousands of women in their lives. How unfair.
5) Some men know the secrets of creating that
magical emotion called ATTRACTION inside of women
even though they aren't rich, handsome, tall, etc.
and wind up having their choice of beautiful young
women. How unfair.
The point I'm trying to make is that LIFE
ISN'T FAIR!
Dating isn't fair, either.
Sometimes a woman will respond positively to
you, then the next day she'll act strange.
Sometimes a specific technique will work for
you, and sometimes it won't.
Sometimes you'll feel great and confident
inside, and sometimes you won't.
Now, most people don't like the idea that life
(and dating) aren't fair. They get upset when
things don't go their way, place too much meaning
on things that happen to them and responses they
get from women, and generally act like life should
be different.
Of course, this is CRAZY.
The more that I realized this fact... that life
just isn't fair... the more that I realized
another PROFOUND truth:
IT'S GREAT NEWS!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Part Two of our interview with Earnest
EaEdE: So are you ready to talk about what you meant by "I think I care about sound more than most people?"
EARNEST: Yeah. I think what I meant was sounds. I pay a lot of attention to sounds. After spending the better part of an hour reading an impassioned online debate by guitar players about whether a particular microphone is amazing or terrible, I remembered that there are plenty of people, musicians, who care a great deal more about some sound specifics than I ever will. But for a non-musician, I care excessively.
EaEdE: You call yourself a non-musician, but you put on something of a show in public today, no?
EARNEST: Yeah I was beating two sticks together. Accompanying a pair of those loud djembe drummers that annoy people in public.
EaEdE: What made you do that all of a sudden?
EARNEST: The guys knew some complex rhythms but couldn't hold them together. They needed help. I did it for the sake of the many dozens of people and wet dogs in the captive audience.
EaEdE: You got a lot of compliments on your clave-playing, and you gathered a small crowd. You haven't done anything like that in a number of years. Do you even remember when?
EARNEST: No. I don't remember. I think it's rude to subject people to loud spastic hand drumming in public, especially at such a peaceful and crowded place like Barton Springs on a 100 degree day.
EaEdE: The one drummer guy said you were playing a 12 count rhythm.
EARNEST: Yeah that's what he said. I've never been able to count and play even though I can hold some pretty tricky beats. I suppose if I could count I could consider myself a percussionist for real. These guys, you see them everywhere. Especially anywhere hairy people are partying hard outdoors in nature somewhere. I thought it was funny that we were sitting by a natural creek but it smelled like a bar, or a dead concert parking lot. Anyway these types often know an awful lot about hand drums and ethnic rhythms, but they just sound awful. I got fed up with this scene many years ago. Hand drums should always be played dynamically and respectfully. They're sacred in many cultures for a reason, and they piss people off in ours for reasons just as good.
EaEdE: So what else happened today?
EARNEST: I went swimming with my dog, Cafe.
EaEdE: What else?
EARNEST: I agreed to do one more blog entry in the style of a magazine interview. I kind of wish I didn't.
EaEdE: And?
EARNEST: I got a job. Driving a boat. On the lake.
EaEdE: Pretty fucking sweet?
EARNEST: Yes. I'm ecstatic, to tell the truth. It pays much better than I thought because there are tips as well as a decent base pay and benefits. It will allow me to keep accumulating sea time towards a captain's license someday, as I was doing when I quit my job on the dolphin boat in Key West over a year ago. It never occurred to me to update my boating resume for finding a job in central Texas. Then I saw this ad on Craigslist, stayed up nearly all night tweaking a fourth version of my resume, had a great interview this morning, and I start tomorrow. I was really getting burned out on resume editing and sending, as you may have noticed.
EaEdE: Yes, you were sniveling again.
EARNEST: Well no more.
EaEdE: And what about the personal life?
EARNEST: Well I'll just say that if you think these blogs are stupid, too revealing, and go way too far, you oughta see some of the personal emails I compose. Good grief. They do me no good whatsoever but I'm not sure I'll ever learn.
EaEdE: Learn what?
EARNEST: Not to compose and send drivel. Blogging snivel, and emailing pathos-soaked drivel. I want to learn to stop doing that. I'd also like to finally learn the craft of technical writing now that I'm here in one of the capitals of it. I'm going to start looking for a part-time internship. There is a lot of work in this field here, and I know I can do it. I just need some training. I spent an hour just this evening writing a pretty darned technical email to a band that wants me to mix a few shows for them.
EaEdE: For money?
EARNEST: Yes, money and a hotel room in Dallas for a big show they are doing. But I can't commit to it until tomorrow, after I check with my new boss on the lake. That's my bread and butter, or my sprouted tortillas and organic vegetarian refried beans. I'm trying to ween off the Taco Bell addiction and I'm having some success. That's why I yelled "FUCK" when I saw there was one near my new place of employment today.
EaEdE: You think you're pretty funny, don't you? Are you sure you don't want to mention anything specifically that might be worth noting that happened in your personal life today?
EARNEST: No, dude, leave me alone about that.
EaEdE: Well you don't seem to be sniveling about it, so that's good.
EARNEST: Yeah that's good. Let's just leave it at that for now. It's all good, in fact. I'm starting with nothing but I've found a bottom rung to reach up for. I mean that about the job, not the personal life. I don't have a ready metaphor for the personal life. I just think once I have a job, and then in good time my own place, I'll appear more normal and less creepy to people, and more importantly, I'll feel better.
EaEdE: Well Earnest, I'd like to thank you very much for joining us.
EARNEST: Enough of that already. I know your wires are a little crossed from listening to way too much public radio over the years. But this format is giving me the creeps. Just go back to writing about me tomorrow in the third person narrative format that absolves you of all responsibility, or the more fun journalistic layout with headlines. Or I'll just write the fucking thing myself....
EARNEST: Yeah. I think what I meant was sounds. I pay a lot of attention to sounds. After spending the better part of an hour reading an impassioned online debate by guitar players about whether a particular microphone is amazing or terrible, I remembered that there are plenty of people, musicians, who care a great deal more about some sound specifics than I ever will. But for a non-musician, I care excessively.
EaEdE: You call yourself a non-musician, but you put on something of a show in public today, no?
EARNEST: Yeah I was beating two sticks together. Accompanying a pair of those loud djembe drummers that annoy people in public.
EaEdE: What made you do that all of a sudden?
EARNEST: The guys knew some complex rhythms but couldn't hold them together. They needed help. I did it for the sake of the many dozens of people and wet dogs in the captive audience.
EaEdE: You got a lot of compliments on your clave-playing, and you gathered a small crowd. You haven't done anything like that in a number of years. Do you even remember when?
EARNEST: No. I don't remember. I think it's rude to subject people to loud spastic hand drumming in public, especially at such a peaceful and crowded place like Barton Springs on a 100 degree day.
EaEdE: The one drummer guy said you were playing a 12 count rhythm.
EARNEST: Yeah that's what he said. I've never been able to count and play even though I can hold some pretty tricky beats. I suppose if I could count I could consider myself a percussionist for real. These guys, you see them everywhere. Especially anywhere hairy people are partying hard outdoors in nature somewhere. I thought it was funny that we were sitting by a natural creek but it smelled like a bar, or a dead concert parking lot. Anyway these types often know an awful lot about hand drums and ethnic rhythms, but they just sound awful. I got fed up with this scene many years ago. Hand drums should always be played dynamically and respectfully. They're sacred in many cultures for a reason, and they piss people off in ours for reasons just as good.
EaEdE: So what else happened today?
EARNEST: I went swimming with my dog, Cafe.
EaEdE: What else?
EARNEST: I agreed to do one more blog entry in the style of a magazine interview. I kind of wish I didn't.
EaEdE: And?
EARNEST: I got a job. Driving a boat. On the lake.
EaEdE: Pretty fucking sweet?
EARNEST: Yes. I'm ecstatic, to tell the truth. It pays much better than I thought because there are tips as well as a decent base pay and benefits. It will allow me to keep accumulating sea time towards a captain's license someday, as I was doing when I quit my job on the dolphin boat in Key West over a year ago. It never occurred to me to update my boating resume for finding a job in central Texas. Then I saw this ad on Craigslist, stayed up nearly all night tweaking a fourth version of my resume, had a great interview this morning, and I start tomorrow. I was really getting burned out on resume editing and sending, as you may have noticed.
EaEdE: Yes, you were sniveling again.
EARNEST: Well no more.
EaEdE: And what about the personal life?
EARNEST: Well I'll just say that if you think these blogs are stupid, too revealing, and go way too far, you oughta see some of the personal emails I compose. Good grief. They do me no good whatsoever but I'm not sure I'll ever learn.
EaEdE: Learn what?
EARNEST: Not to compose and send drivel. Blogging snivel, and emailing pathos-soaked drivel. I want to learn to stop doing that. I'd also like to finally learn the craft of technical writing now that I'm here in one of the capitals of it. I'm going to start looking for a part-time internship. There is a lot of work in this field here, and I know I can do it. I just need some training. I spent an hour just this evening writing a pretty darned technical email to a band that wants me to mix a few shows for them.
EaEdE: For money?
EARNEST: Yes, money and a hotel room in Dallas for a big show they are doing. But I can't commit to it until tomorrow, after I check with my new boss on the lake. That's my bread and butter, or my sprouted tortillas and organic vegetarian refried beans. I'm trying to ween off the Taco Bell addiction and I'm having some success. That's why I yelled "FUCK" when I saw there was one near my new place of employment today.
EaEdE: You think you're pretty funny, don't you? Are you sure you don't want to mention anything specifically that might be worth noting that happened in your personal life today?
EARNEST: No, dude, leave me alone about that.
EaEdE: Well you don't seem to be sniveling about it, so that's good.
EARNEST: Yeah that's good. Let's just leave it at that for now. It's all good, in fact. I'm starting with nothing but I've found a bottom rung to reach up for. I mean that about the job, not the personal life. I don't have a ready metaphor for the personal life. I just think once I have a job, and then in good time my own place, I'll appear more normal and less creepy to people, and more importantly, I'll feel better.
EaEdE: Well Earnest, I'd like to thank you very much for joining us.
EARNEST: Enough of that already. I know your wires are a little crossed from listening to way too much public radio over the years. But this format is giving me the creeps. Just go back to writing about me tomorrow in the third person narrative format that absolves you of all responsibility, or the more fun journalistic layout with headlines. Or I'll just write the fucking thing myself....
Monday, August 3, 2009
Earnest: The EaEdE Interview
EaEdE: Earnest, isn't this another potentially shining example of acting creepy, interviewing yourself?
EARNEST: That don't deserve an answer, hoss.
EaEdE: Fine. But really, "hoss"? What's with all of this southern and Texas lingo that has crept into your vocabulary and the twang that comes out when you sing? What are you trying to prove? You're not Texan, you're not southern, and you're not even a redneck. You grew up in the Philadelphia suburbs. You're a vegan for chrissake...
EARNEST: My maternal grandparents were from Alabama.
EaEdE: That's your only explanation?
EARNEST: Well, and it just feels right. I don't care much for the Northeast accents.
EaEdE: So how did it go today?
EARNEST: Great!
EaEdE: And the nice California girl you met-- do you think she thought you were creepy?
EARNEST: No, I think she liked me just fine.
EaEdE: What did you think of her?
EARNEST: I don't think I'm ready to answer that.
EaEdE: What did you have your panties in such a wad over this morning anyway when you wrote that blog? You caught yourself sniveling again, didn't you?
EARNEST: Indeed. I'd like to point out that I am listening to my favorite DJ in the world right now, over the airwaves, on KUT, Mr. Larry Monroe. He is singlehandedly responsible for a massive portion of the kind of music I love most these days, largely from these cassette recordings I made of his late night blues and Americana programs I made while voluntarily incarcerated at the Pharmaco pharmaceutical testing facility for 24 days in late 1997.
EaEdE: Okay. But will you answer the question?
EARNEST: Sure. I woke up to an email this morning from a certain close family member that was disappointingly distant and curt, when my communications are always expressive and expansive and heartfelt. Then I realized that the bellydancer I wrote to last week didn't read the message I wrote to her. She just discarded it and probably got the serious creeps just from seeing the photo of who sent it. Myspace tells you these things.
EaEdE: Don't you think that finding her online and writing her that message on Myspace was, like, the definition of creepy?
EARNEST: No. She gave me a certain look after the show that made me feel like maybe she'd be interested in talking to me.
EaEdE: So why didn't you just talk to her?
EARNEST: There was a very big man talking to her very intently. After that she looked kind of like she wanted to be left alone. And I was drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, which I wasn't proud of. They're two bucks at Ruta Maya.
EaEdE: Aren't you really just an introverted creepy weirdo anyhow? Didn't you hack into your ex-girlfriend's email and read it when you were working on that yacht in St. Thomas?
EARNEST: No. And Yes. And I apologized for it and we're still friends. Why does this have to be an interrogation? Why can't you be sensitive and endearing like Teri Gross or Diane Rehm? Jerk. Why don't you change the name of this thing anyway? I'm not going back to Ecuador anytime soon, and there's not much to write about poor Eeyore these days.
EaEdE: Fair enough. Why don't you even talk to your best friends about your personal life?
EARNEST: It just seems too personal sometimes.
EaEdE: But you write about it here for the all the googling world to look at.
EARNEST: Right. Well, that's not my real picture with the dead possum, and Earnest isn't my real name.
EaEdE: But this blog is linked from your real Facebook page.
EARNEST: Yeah I've thought about changing that.
EaEdE: Do you think doing this type of interview is going to lead people to suspect you suffer from some mental illness?
EARNEST: I imagine that's commonly assumed enough. But everyone talks to themselves in one way or another. And the DSM manual is thick enough to label us all with something. I'm addicted to hot sauce and fresco style bean burritos from Taco Bell, for example. But I don't have the other addiction issues I once did. It's hard to believe, but years of extremely healthy eating and supplements can do wonders. There are some very scientific books about this but I doubt Dr. Oz will be touting them on Oprah any time soon. Gary Null is my biggest hero in this department, but there are huge efforts to discredit him because of what a liability he is to the drug companies. I do have mental illness in my family though. When my brother committed suicide, he was on any number of anti-psychotics, which are given out with unbelievable fickleness these days. If I sound like I'm exaggerating, do your own research. It's fucking crazy. Seeing what the drugs did to people when I worked in psychosocial rehabilitation, and watching my brother slide off into oblivion, well it showed me things I couldn't possibly describe in words.
EaEdE: So if you're not crazy, why do you have so many issues with things that other people don't?
EARNEST: You mean like the hunting and killing of dolphins and whales?
EaEdE: Yes. You really got upset about that the other night.
EARNEST: I did. That is a little embarrassing in a post-caring world. Caring is so not cool.
EaEdE: Speaking of caring, you claim to care about sound more than most people too. Can you explain this?
EARNEST: Sure. But I don't feel like it right now. It's a subject that's too important to me to give short shrift to right now. I'm hungry.
EaEdE: But you did get a reply to the Craigslist ad offering to mix bands for free, right?
EARNEST: Yes. Right away. And they offered to pay me.
EaEdE: And someone you really like who you thought was ignoring you emailed you this morning right at the end of your sniveling rant you wrote, right?
EARNEST: Right.
EaEdE: And that's why you're not sniveling right now?
EARNEST: You're a fucking genius.
EaEdE: Takes one to know one. I'd like to thank you very much for speaking with us.
EARNEST: I'm not speaking, I'm typing. To myself. Like a crazy person. But close enough...
EARNEST: That don't deserve an answer, hoss.
EaEdE: Fine. But really, "hoss"? What's with all of this southern and Texas lingo that has crept into your vocabulary and the twang that comes out when you sing? What are you trying to prove? You're not Texan, you're not southern, and you're not even a redneck. You grew up in the Philadelphia suburbs. You're a vegan for chrissake...
EARNEST: My maternal grandparents were from Alabama.
EaEdE: That's your only explanation?
EARNEST: Well, and it just feels right. I don't care much for the Northeast accents.
EaEdE: So how did it go today?
EARNEST: Great!
EaEdE: And the nice California girl you met-- do you think she thought you were creepy?
EARNEST: No, I think she liked me just fine.
EaEdE: What did you think of her?
EARNEST: I don't think I'm ready to answer that.
EaEdE: What did you have your panties in such a wad over this morning anyway when you wrote that blog? You caught yourself sniveling again, didn't you?
EARNEST: Indeed. I'd like to point out that I am listening to my favorite DJ in the world right now, over the airwaves, on KUT, Mr. Larry Monroe. He is singlehandedly responsible for a massive portion of the kind of music I love most these days, largely from these cassette recordings I made of his late night blues and Americana programs I made while voluntarily incarcerated at the Pharmaco pharmaceutical testing facility for 24 days in late 1997.
EaEdE: Okay. But will you answer the question?
EARNEST: Sure. I woke up to an email this morning from a certain close family member that was disappointingly distant and curt, when my communications are always expressive and expansive and heartfelt. Then I realized that the bellydancer I wrote to last week didn't read the message I wrote to her. She just discarded it and probably got the serious creeps just from seeing the photo of who sent it. Myspace tells you these things.
EaEdE: Don't you think that finding her online and writing her that message on Myspace was, like, the definition of creepy?
EARNEST: No. She gave me a certain look after the show that made me feel like maybe she'd be interested in talking to me.
EaEdE: So why didn't you just talk to her?
EARNEST: There was a very big man talking to her very intently. After that she looked kind of like she wanted to be left alone. And I was drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, which I wasn't proud of. They're two bucks at Ruta Maya.
EaEdE: Aren't you really just an introverted creepy weirdo anyhow? Didn't you hack into your ex-girlfriend's email and read it when you were working on that yacht in St. Thomas?
EARNEST: No. And Yes. And I apologized for it and we're still friends. Why does this have to be an interrogation? Why can't you be sensitive and endearing like Teri Gross or Diane Rehm? Jerk. Why don't you change the name of this thing anyway? I'm not going back to Ecuador anytime soon, and there's not much to write about poor Eeyore these days.
EaEdE: Fair enough. Why don't you even talk to your best friends about your personal life?
EARNEST: It just seems too personal sometimes.
EaEdE: But you write about it here for the all the googling world to look at.
EARNEST: Right. Well, that's not my real picture with the dead possum, and Earnest isn't my real name.
EaEdE: But this blog is linked from your real Facebook page.
EARNEST: Yeah I've thought about changing that.
EaEdE: Do you think doing this type of interview is going to lead people to suspect you suffer from some mental illness?
EARNEST: I imagine that's commonly assumed enough. But everyone talks to themselves in one way or another. And the DSM manual is thick enough to label us all with something. I'm addicted to hot sauce and fresco style bean burritos from Taco Bell, for example. But I don't have the other addiction issues I once did. It's hard to believe, but years of extremely healthy eating and supplements can do wonders. There are some very scientific books about this but I doubt Dr. Oz will be touting them on Oprah any time soon. Gary Null is my biggest hero in this department, but there are huge efforts to discredit him because of what a liability he is to the drug companies. I do have mental illness in my family though. When my brother committed suicide, he was on any number of anti-psychotics, which are given out with unbelievable fickleness these days. If I sound like I'm exaggerating, do your own research. It's fucking crazy. Seeing what the drugs did to people when I worked in psychosocial rehabilitation, and watching my brother slide off into oblivion, well it showed me things I couldn't possibly describe in words.
EaEdE: So if you're not crazy, why do you have so many issues with things that other people don't?
EARNEST: You mean like the hunting and killing of dolphins and whales?
EaEdE: Yes. You really got upset about that the other night.
EARNEST: I did. That is a little embarrassing in a post-caring world. Caring is so not cool.
EaEdE: Speaking of caring, you claim to care about sound more than most people too. Can you explain this?
EARNEST: Sure. But I don't feel like it right now. It's a subject that's too important to me to give short shrift to right now. I'm hungry.
EaEdE: But you did get a reply to the Craigslist ad offering to mix bands for free, right?
EARNEST: Yes. Right away. And they offered to pay me.
EaEdE: And someone you really like who you thought was ignoring you emailed you this morning right at the end of your sniveling rant you wrote, right?
EARNEST: Right.
EaEdE: And that's why you're not sniveling right now?
EARNEST: You're a fucking genius.
EaEdE: Takes one to know one. I'd like to thank you very much for speaking with us.
EARNEST: I'm not speaking, I'm typing. To myself. Like a crazy person. But close enough...
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