All I know is that I don't know nuthin'.

Links and whatnot

Blogs and Friends
Preacherman
Johnny Payphone
Mr. Nosuch
Teresa Strickland
radiohodgepodge
Just Cheap Dirt
xpurple
Fairly Crass
Babble Book
Staircase Wit
Pezman
Jack Jackson's Dirty Pictures 2000
Jgrrl's LJ
lfirebrand

Funny, yet true
The Onion
Modern Humorist
Something Awful
X-Entertainment
Seanbaby
What's Better?
Homestar Runner
Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog
Get Your War On
Maakies
A Softer World

News and stuff
Plastic
Google News

Movies
IMDb
Roger Ebert
Cinema Confidential
Rotten Tomatoes

Music and Art
Pitchfork
They Might Be Giants
Bongwater Taffy
Rate Your Music
Rocket From The Crypt
The All Music Guide
2.13.61 Publishing
Tha Friendly Gangstaz Committee
The Wooster Collective
Star City Scene
OLGA
The Terminals
oh my god
The Zyklon Bees
Strawberry Burns
Lone Prairie Records
eagle*seagull

Genuinely Useful Stuff
The Straight Dope
Adbusters
SpamCop
Pandamail
h2g2
Download.com
Analog X
The Free World
Pilonidal.org





Mail me
AIM: RawkStah
My Profile
My MySpace Space



HOME

Archives:

I'm pretty much going to make my gmail account my primary account now. It's slick, it's free, it's got an assload of space, and... I dunno. I check it more often, I guess. If you want invites, I've plenty.

rawkstah at gmail dot com

I've made Firefox my default web browser. It's slick, it's better than IE from a security standpoint, it's got some great extensions...

Kee-ryst! Have I become this boring? I mean, I saw some really good movies this weekend, but, they're of limited interest unless you dig wire-fu and/or Thai martial arts, and, really, if you need much of a plot in that type of movie, you may want to rethink your priorities. Not to say that there can't be some fantastic plots and characters in martial-arts cinema, but most of the audience isn't there to see the doomed romances and tragic people. We're there to see ass-kickery and unneccessary stunts.

I had a bizarro three-level meta dream the other night. I'd go into mindnumbing detail about it, but I won't. Mostly because I'm foggy on some of the things, and mostly because, if level two of the dream is accurate, I could make big, big money. Let's just say it involved watching a movie about Robert De Niro, Sean Penn and Cuba Gooding, Jr fighting vampires that behaved like zombies, and became immune to whatever had killed previous undead. Let's just say that Ron Howard was interested in making a movie about this dream about a movie. And, let's just say that dreaming about writing a scary-ass screenplay based on a dream that you only sort of remember is confusing and more difficult than you might think. Add on the fourth level of me telling a friend about all of this (in the dream, mind you)... I'm not smart enough to diagram how the hell that all worked, much less write a Charlie Kaufman-esque synopsis of it. Shit -- was that a fifth level? A five-level meta dream? Is that some sort of record? Do I get a million dollars now? Is there a Nobel for kick-ass dreams?

I don't, have never, and hope never to have lucid dreams. I think Ralph Wiggum summed it up best: "Oh, boy! Sleep! That's where I'm a viking!" I am a participant in most of my dreams, but can't actually take control of them. While they're happening, I'm not aware that they are dreams. Were I a dumb guy on weed, I'd think, "What if, like... the dream is reality, and reality is a dream? *bubble bubble bubble* Shiiiiiiiiiit!" And then I'd be the deepest guy at the party. I'd be like, the dream guru or something. And everyone would gather 'round the bong and hear me recount my voyages, and everyone would want to smoke up with me, and I'd have all the Funyuns I could ever want.

But, I'm not a dumb pothead, no one wants to read a blog that's just about some dude's dreams, and I for damn sure don't hang out with (short list) William Shatner, Jessica Hahn, Yassir Arafat, Chewbacca dressed like Rivers Cuomo on the first Weezer album cover, Richard Pryor, Father Guido Sarducci, Henry Rollins, or any other celebrity, major or minor. Well, a few minor celebs. Local music heroes. But not Conor Oberst. And not Lincoln Native James Valentine of Grammy Winning Band Marroon 5. I am sick of Marroon 5 and Conor. Go away.

Not you, though. I don't want you to go away. You took time out of your day and read my ramblings. After rawk shows, I shake the hands of the band members and let them know I thought they did a good job. Sometimes I buy merch. I have no merch for you to buy (but could be convinced to make some if demand happens), and I don't expect handshakes. But, I hope that more people than my dad, Mark, Bryan, Andy and Dav are hitting this site. If you like what you see (and there are an assload of archives), and want to claim me as a friend, you could visit myspace.com and do a search for my email address (the cleverly disguised one up above). You could also do the same thing at friendster.com. But, I'm more popular at myspace. And the web is nothing but a popularity contest. Right?
posted by RawkStah at 1:36 AM