Guilt. Haterade. Breakbeats.

Wow fuck. I haven't updated this thing in ages. Sincerest apologies; I know you all hang on my every word. Cough cough.

Lots of stuff that's worth recapping, but let's be realistic here. I don't want to take all the time, and I'm sure it won't really impact your life in any meaningful sense anyway. ("But we want to know how many times you've shit this past week!" That's a solid six times, for reference.)

Only three things in this wacky Universe of ours can guilt-trip me so cosmically and completely that I start to doubt my unmitigated awesome:
1) The Bible
- They may have killed his ass, but damn it if Jesus didn't learn a thing or two from them about guilt before they finally got him.
2) My mother
- And she's Chinese. Yeah.
3) The inevitable approach of Finals Week.
- Because I am a hulking monolith of pure academic progress. As final exams get closer and closer, I'll slowly morph into a sweatshop full of Vietnamese children when Kathy Lee Gifford comes to visit. And you will wonder at the vastness of my terrified productivity.

Started to get guilty for not being as engrossed in my classes as one would imagine that, ideally, I should be. Don't get me wrong. I love my classes. Well, Russian and English. As for Anthro, hm. I always wondered what it would be like to be stuck in some crazy parallel universe wherein trite observations and fucking obvious traits are balled up into a horrifying mass of restated terms and recycled definitions. And then celebrated as science.

I'm totally kidding; I've never wondered that at all.

Fuck you, anthropology. If I wanted to be emotionally and mentally underwhelmed, I would have taken another Communications Studies course. I would say with all confidence say that Anthropology is the most revolting pseudo-science I've ever had the pleasure of stumbling into except for the fact that it doesn't deserve the superlative qualification. It's like that band Third Eye Blind. To say that it is the worst would be to imply that it is, at least, really good at being really fucking bad. I mean, it's entirely conceivable that there is crap out there that's more worthless than Anthro (And, since we're still here, Third Eye Blind too. I cannot fucking stand that motherfucker's speech impediment. Learn how to fucking talk, let alone sing.) but you'll understand if I don't really want to imagine anything quite that depressing until I refill my prescription for some more goddamned MAOI Inhibitors. Fuck you, anthropology. (I was gonna Google up the singer's name so I could single him out for a snack-sized serving of invective just for him, but I don't want my computer to have their web address floating somewhere on its hard drive.)

Before you flail your hands in righteous indignation Janny-- and I know probably already have, damn the binary and damn the internet-- I still think you're a great girl. Horribly misled, but at least you're good at what you do. Not that it takes much to be good at it, so use all that leftover brainpower to telepathically burn things or something. At least fire is cool.

I think I'm done with my hating for this post.

The last of the Campus Events applications should have come in today. It's exciting looking through all of them and wondering which of those wrinkled packets represents a new staffer. More specifically, which of the applicants are hot hipster chicks looking to join Concerts Staff. Look at me, I'm all goose-bumpy.

This one bitch, though. (I fully intended to be done hating... Hah. Hah. Oh well.) Turned in a shitty application scrawled lightly in pencil. Under the section asking which of our events she had been to and why she would like to join, she writes something to the effect of: "None. I was hoping that getting on staff would help me get back my love of music, which I have lost because of college."

Don't let me rain on your sympathy parade or anything, sweetiepie, but did I miss the memo informing everyone that Campus Events has now become a psychological rehabilitation group so you can get back to jamming along with KROQ? Fuck altruism, fuck Clear Channel, and fuck you. (Oops. Started sounding like that awful short film that we screened for Shorttakes. "Oh noes! He started drinking again?!?!~!~") Come back when you want to book some damned shows.

Just so you can all hate her morally if not personally, she wrote down, for two of her top five albums of 2004, one by Adema and Iron Maiden. Yeah, she loses. She loses even more than that dude in the marching band who likes Incubus. The sheer amount of suck embodied in that application... the... the sh-- Fuck. I can't even finish the thought.

Ok, seriously. Gonna stop filling up the internet with more closed-minded anger. But they suck so very, very much that it's hard to-- Sorry. Stopping.

I left Shorttakes early last night with Daniel and Nish to go catch Chris O'Reilly (pretty sure that's A. spelled correctly B. actually his name) at Royce Hall. He's a guy who does piano arrangements of Radiohead and Elliott Smith songs. Wow, seeing that in writing makes him look really really lame. But I promise, he's pretty damned good. They aren't just cheesy piano covers of the songs. He rewrites them into lush piano arrangements. Personal highlights: "Waltz #1 (XO)" and the last track of Heatmiser - Mic City Sons, which I always thought was untitled like the *ahem* copy of that song that I have in my possession but he said was entitled "Not Half Right" or somesuch. His takes on "Paranoid Android " and "2+2 = 5" were pretty awesome too, though Elliott beats the snot out of Radiohead any day of the week in my book. And I rather like Radiohead.

Afterwards, we made it back to Ackerman in time to enjoy the catering provided for the filmmakers from Shorttakes. And greedy piggy staffers like me. We were trying to figure out what we wanted to do, since most everyone didn't really want to go home. I really wanted to get fucking tipsy.

I think everyone kind of invited themselves over to Daniel's place (Let's face it, Daniel is fucking cool.) and Megan took a few people to pick up the libations. They got a bunch of cheap wine and champagne, which made me a happy panda. Aiko gave me a pint of her personal favorite, Boddington's Ale. The fucking can had a widget inside of it. It was delicious. Smoked a bunch of ciggies, which helped the wine blossom into a wonderful little bubble in my brain (which can help us to ignore the fiberglass in my lungs). Or maybe that was the weed. Sorry about your piece, Daniel =( That's what you get for trusting that half-Jap. In any case, it was relaxing fun. I felt like we were bothering Daniel's roommates, even though they were all really cool. Lap even came out and broke open a bottle of their own wine with us so I don't know if the guilt was simply in my head.

I'm excited to live with Bob, Daniel, and Nish next year. The place is cool, the people are chill, and none of my roommates are gonna be chicks. Cat broke up with Junho so I will (hopefully) never be forced to listen to the Girlfriend Voice ever the fuck again. Short of some horrible joke at my expense care of that classy broad Fate, that is. Oops. Looks like I spilled that little secret to a bunch of strangers on the internet, roommates of mine. Maybe next time you shouldn't presume that I am retarded, blind, and fucking retarded and just let me know that you two have something going on. Call me petty, but some freaking disclosure feels awfully nice every once in a while.

That felt kind of nice. God bless you, apostrophe. At least I hope it was apostrophe, because that was written much more spitefully than I would actually speak to either of them. Shrug. Internet and anonymity make Eric a harsh boy.

Got my mitts on a couple of sexy new Drum n Bass mixes recently. Tech Itch partnered up with... some other DJ and formed a new label. Technical Freaks. Who knows about the other dude, but Tech Itch is absolutely raw. So far, their new mix is pretty good. Not a mindfuck like Killabites, Vol. 2 was though, sadly. The second disc made me want to scribble the word "breakbeat" on the next person I saw and just have sex with it. Gender notwithstanding. I also got the latest LP from Violence Recordings, home of Hive, Gridlok, and some other DJs who I don't have as fierce of a love for. Motherfucking Hive, man. It's awesome. The sampler for the LP has a crazy remix by Dom & Roland of Hive's "Neo." Rocks my pants off. Then my underwear, too. And since I know most of you dumb fuckers will not enjoy the awesome DnB track I just linked, here's a neat track off of the single for Electrelane - The Power Out.

This entry is getting far too long. Apologies. I'll do my best to make posts more frecuente and less gigante, as they are wont to say south of the border. Fetch me a sombrero and I will do a dance for you, too. Oh shit raincheck on the hat dance, Pancho Villa's coming.

Gotta fly. Ever really, really wanted to feel there was something in common with someone even though it always feels forced when you hang out? Yeah, gonna go indulge in some desperately wishful thinking.

-Eric