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

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Hola, amigos y amigas.

Nuevo? Nada.

That's about the extent of my ability to speak Spanish.

Work is. That's about it. No major drama, no major anything. I'm a lunch manager, and I manage lunch. I apparently haven't been fucking up too badly.

The cat seems to be intrigued by pens and pencils. I think that's because she's stupid. She hasn't got much for brains, much like Winnie-The-Pooh. Except that Winnie didn't have teeth (at least in the classic stories).

I think that I need assignments. Book reports and such. I don't have much in the way of intellectual stimulation in my day-to-day life. The biggest news I've heard in the last month? Chris Penn died. Oh, and Hammas won a bunch of seats in the Palestinian Authority. Of course, since I've washed my hands of everything Israeli and Palestinian, this doesn't matter to me.

What does matter to me? Well, if you've been checking your email, I am opposed to the conformation of Alito to the Supreme Court. I like the Fourth Amendment.

I also like rocknroll, but you already knew that.

What the fuck am I posting for? I really don't know. I have no grand pronouncements to make, I have no new shit for you to check out, I have no good jokes, I really have nothing.

Belle and Sebastian have a new album coming out on Feb. 7. I have been listening the shit out of them lately. Yes, the title of my blog comes from the refrain of a punk song by Operation Ivy. Yes, I am a fan of Rollins, Rancid, Pantera, all sorts of metal and speed-metal bands. But, something about the quiet, ornate arrangements of a little band out of Glasgow, Scotland makes me feel very, very happy.

B&S have a DVD out, but I don't want to get it. I want to keep them precious and precocious in my own mind. I want to picture them hanging out in Scottish coffee houses, wearing cardigans, sipping tea, writing ink polaroids to each other. I don't want to know if there is drama within the band. I want to picture them as mellow-yet-hip people who would want to hang out with me. They'd forgive my ignorance and awkwardness. They'd put up with my tasteless jokes and nasally voice. They'd listen to me as I played John the Baptist for rock bands. I'd be judged by them, and I'd be found to be fairly cool. They'd introduce me around, and I'd meet some cool people at the bars that they hang out in. B&S wouldn't be sober all the time, after all. I wouldn't be as well-read as them, but I'd be willing to learn. And, one day, they'd ask me to sing backup on a demo track. Then, they'd ask me to tour with them. And I would, in a heartbeat.

I really don't have a voice for fiction. I'm no Stephen King. I'm no Orson Scott Card. Hell, I'm nothing. That previous paragraph was about the extent of what I can write. Honestly. Every time I try to write, I wind up in a corner. 'Member that sci-fi story I was trying to write a few months ago? Turns out I was more intrigued by the idea (a machine that makes dreams real) than the story (Simon Randle's efforts to kill his dreams after his Machine broke). I wrote a piece of fiction years and years ago. The only reason it was successful was because of POST-MODERNISM. I broke the fourth wall, I was self-referential, blah blah blah. Fuck it. It was a piece of shit play, as far as I know there is no extant copy, and it didn't get selected for ACTF.

OK -- things I am not good at:

--Logistics
--Sitting still
--Seeing objects up-close (cuz I'm far-sighted)
--Writing music
--Writing lyrics
--Calling rodeos
--Playing guitar
--Playing bass
--Playing drums
--Eating a balanced diet
--Blogging


Things I am good at:

--Being a rocknroll fan
--Appreciating good music
--Mocking shitty music
--Karaoke
--Enjoying science fiction
--Being facinated by physics, astronomy and quantum mechanics
--Being enraged by ID arguments
--Listening the holy hell out of good bands
--Being a rocknroll missionary.

This next bit is confidential to Pastor Jeff:

Pastor Jeff,

You may not recall, but I was present for many of your sermons at First Trinity. Perhaps it's because you, unlike my family, made it to my college theatre debute in Eric Bogosian's "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll". Perhaps it's because I heard (when you first accepted the call to First Trinity) that you minored or something in Theatre. Perhaps it's the fact that you wore an old-man hat the first time you met me, as I was reading Douglas Preston's "The Hot Zone" while doing some damned thing at bible school.

Regradless, there is one sermon you gave that I recall vividly (while not reading Stephen King in the Crying Room).

You were giving a sermon about mission work. Perhaps the source was Luke? Anyway, you said something along the lines of "If the people of the town don't want to hear what you're saying, kick the dust from your heels and leave. Don't force it upon them." This has stuck with me. Although I haven't always applied it to my daily life.

For example:

Girl: Did you put in any Matchbox 20 in the jukebox?
Me: No. I picked good music.
Girl: Matchbox 20 is good.
Me: Sister, you have a LOT to learn about rock and roll.
Girl: I know rock and roll. Tesla is rock and roll.

This is why I'm single.

That, and a lot of other reasons.

I suggest that everyone listen to "The Boy with The Arab Strap" by Belle and Sebastian.

That's all I've got.
posted by Grant Bennett at 2:12 AM