A sobering galley of cautionary tales for struggling bands everywhere: Rock and Roll Confidential's Hall of Douchebags. If you think your band photo looks hot and original, check here first.
Those wretched "Peaceful Political Activist" buttons aren't the only alternative to making a ruckus in protest of the Really Nasty Convention next week. The first annual Imagine Festival, of Arts, Issues and Ideas is putting on a number of programs all over the city which may not be expressly partisan, are certainly leaning to the left quite a bit.
My event of choice, naturally, will be on Tuesday, August 31, at 7:00 p.m., when the WYSIWYG Talent Show gathers together an amazing braintrust of bloggers/pundits for what promises to be an incredible panel discussion on blogging and politics. Seriously, check out the details I think this is gonna be great.
Also in WYSIWYG news, I’ve finally responded to the numerous pleas to set up a blog http://www.wysiwygtalentshow.org/blog/) on the site for news and reviews about the shows, as well as news about other cool things being done by WYSIWYG alumni. In particular, you may want to peek at this entry for our preliminary list of show dates and topics for the next year. After all, we're always looking for new talent...
Looking for work feels an awful lot like looking for a boyfriend. You're always checking out new possibilities (trolling the internet, or asking friends about their friends) and daring to dream of how much more magical everyday life will be if you score once and for all. If you take the time to primp a little and introduce yourself, you still run the risk of getting unceremoniously blown off. You stare at the phone or check your inbox obsessively, wondering if he lost your phone number or met someone cuter, wishing there was just some way you could know for sure.
The aftermath of the first date (you know, the interview this is a metaphor, so stick with me) is even worse, at least if you're still excited after getting that far. Not only are you still waiting by the phone and checking your mail every five minutes, but then you're also wondering if maybe you srewed up everything by saying the wrong thing ro not looking sexy enough. At the same time you're still casting about, but a little half-heartedly, hoping to still get that magic call from the boy of your dreams (and not just a casually dismissive e-mail saying it's not going to work out).
And in the midst of it all, I finally got a long-overdue new computer at work today. Under the circumstances, it feels like that horribly awkward moment when after realizing you have got to break up with the hopeless drip you've been dating for longer than you should have you get a generous but hapless present or something from the soon-to-be-dumped. You want to show some gratitude, but not enough to suggest that you're all jazzed about how great things are going. It's just too little too late, so you smile wanly and say "thank you," just to be polite.
I'll also totally need to go buy some sassy new outfits if I can land that dream date!
If, like me, you wanted to strangle both Bob Costas and Katie Couric as they babbled endlessly and pointlessly during the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, you might enjoy seeing the magical Björk performance without it being drowned out by the inane chatter. (You might also want to check out the video and other tracks from her new album, which looks to be gorgeousness itself.)
Did you know that last Thursday was the fifth anniversary of this blog? I’ve been diddling with web sites for slightly longer, but my very first entry made with an automated posting tool. Blogging these days is so widespread, so taken for granted, so cliché that it amazes me that only five short years ago it was a curious fringe activity that was a little embarrassing to explain. Time sure flies when you're trailblazing a minor media phenomenon, eh?
Of course, long-time readers will surely realize that I don't put quite as much energy into the site as much anymore. I suppose Stephen hears most of what I might otherwise post: once a thought crystallizes during tea and toast in the morning or during evening chit-chat, It's not as interesting for me to hash it out again later. I have my flashes of pith, but I don't work out ideas in writing as much anymore. This could change at any time, of course, but it's the way things go right now. Don't abandon me yet, though: here's still plenty of scandal and sass to read in the archives until my muse knocks me upside the head again. (And I guarantee that not one of you has read everything that I’ve buried in there.)
Thanks for all these years of playing along at home! Rock on!
If Jessie and his friend Jeremy were to record an album of pensive, angsty alterna-pop songs, what would the album art look like?
Fellow Jesuit survivor PJ is the one of the few non-Regians who totally understands and reciprocates my religion-based humor. He's been there, he knows. See proof in this e-mail exchange from this morning:
PJ: [blah, blah, blah, job-hunting angst] Why do we have to work for a living?
Sparky: We work for a living so we can understand the pain Christ suffered on the Cross when he died for our sins.
Oh, and to pay for shiny new toys.
PJ: I forget that Jesus is the reason for the season...every season. Catholic school really did give us an answer for everything.