These are the things we can live without

Two things for this increasingly irrelevant forum.

- I leave for SoCal tomorrow for Coachella.

- I DJ tonight at Your Apartment (the bar, not the apartment). Fucking be there.

Increment by increment.

2 days to Coachella. Shit.

Charisma Carpenter naked.

Superfantastiche.

Bring on the apocolypse

Just saw a video featuring a bunch of guys in fur coats and bling'd out necklaces standing in a parking lot, surrounded by shiny cars and hoochie girls shaking their asses into the camera. Standard hip hop fare, except this was on Country fucking Music Television. I need to lie down.

I'm just a shot away from you.

Franz Ferdinand edited the Guardian's G2 this week, which included a good article on the death of rock'n'roll mythology. Check it out.

Coachella countdown: 8 days.

Is she weird? Is she white? Is she promised to the night?

Weekend buzz:

-Kill Bill Vol.2 was awesome. More chatty and less bloody than the first one, but a more complete film. Plus Pai Mei totally reminded me of a character from My New Fighting Technique Is Unstoppable.

-Pixies. Solid outing by the alt-rock legends. Frank Black still has a voice like a jet engine, but the venue and asshole crowd put a damper on things.

That's all for now.

Dispatches from the department of "What the fuck?"

Heard today: the Von Bondies' "C'mon C'mon" at the Gap. The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights" at Sunglasses Hut. I wanna go home.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Most days, I try to keep up with what's going on in the world. Today, in light of the deteriorating situation in Iraq, The Smirking Idiot's fellating of Sharon and endorsement of ISrael's new apartheid and just teh fact that there's,like, a foot of snow on the ground, it's not worth it. So I think I'll get drunk.

I am trying to break your heart.

Damn. News from the Coachella Fest web site has Wilco dropping out as a result of singer Jeff Tweedy's continuing treatment for his addicition to painkillers. Shit, first the Yeah Yeah Yeahs bail, now this. If Radiohead or the Pixies go next, heads will fucking roll.

It's so much better on holiday.

Apologies for the abscence (ah, who am I kidding: I don't care). Long weekends, especially of the four-day variety, should be a regular occurance. One shouldn't have to wait for some Jewish caprenter to get nailed to a tree and rise again, "Dawn of the Dead" style, just to get a little bit of time away from the office. Anyhow, now that I'm back, I'm even less inclined than usual to work, let alone blog, so this is what you get.

Starlite Starbright

Last night marked my first visit to the Starlite room (ex-Rev) for metric. Things did not go well. For starters, it was an all ages gig, which meant no booze. This necessitated a extended visit to the dubious Hawkeye's next door, who's owners are no doubt rubbing their hands in anticipation of the overflow of alcoholic 20-somethings that will spill over from the Starlite.

Secondly, the show was sold out and possibly oversold, so you couldn't move for all the 17 year old hipster pups jamming the front of the stage. As for the new venue itself, it looked pretty similar to the old haunt, albeit daubed with tons of red paint. The stage itself has been moved to the north entrance. Strangest of all, though, is the fact that the floor slopes quite dramatically away from the stage, meaning those unfortunate enough to get stuck near the back had a great view of a shitload of $45 haircuts.

As for the band, well, maybe it's because I've seen 'em thrice in the last nine months, but I would have rather spent the money on beer and stayed home and listened to the CD. They left me quite cold.

WWCWD?

Lots.