Who knew I was so muscular?

   I can tear a phonebook in half.  That's right.  An actual phonebook.  No cheating, this is for real.  And here's the proof.

Thought[s] of the day

1.  Ripping something slowly rather than fast doesn't make it less noticeable.  In fact, it draws attention and lasts even longer.  Just rip it fast.  No one will care.

2.  Being smart doesn't do you any good if all you do is keep it to yourself.

3.  The word "epic" is terribly misused.  No, throwing that football in an almost perfect spiral wasn't "epic".  Flying to a distant planet to fight aliens and ending up working together and solving our global warming crisis is truly "epic".  You can use the word, just be aware.

4.  Wolfgang is an awesome name.  First of all, it has the word "wolf" in it.  You can't beat that.  Also, it's not common.  I don't know anyone named Wolfgang.  I wish I did.  It's a magnificent name, no doubt.

5.  I drew a picture.

Yes, I know that it is backwards.  I am too lazy to fix it.

Artist of the Week: Ben Folds

   Ben Folds.  What can I say?  He's a living legend.  I've grown up listening to Ben Folds (and thank goodness for that).  He was the first good artist I listened to, and I'm sure he'll maintain his place in my top five for most--if not all--of my life.
   It's hard to put Ben Folds' music into words.  Besides being ((great)(magnificent))(), Ben Folds brings something to the table that no one else even thought to bring.  His style is unique and concise.  The main instrument in most of his songs is piano, which he can play better than Jesus--I mean that in the most respectful way (we're talking beyond perfection here).  Before he went solo, he gained popularity with his band "Ben Folds Five" (who would have guessed there are only three of them?), which is almost a mix of Earth, Wind & Fire (with the back-up singing) and Elton John, but has that great Ben Folds twist on it.
   One of my favorite things about Ben Fold's music is his bitterness and wit.  He's not afraid to offend anyone: he's going to say what he wants to say whether you like it or not.  Oh, and he's gonna make it sound beautiful too.  His voice is clear and always on pitch.  He doesn't use vibrato, but he pulls it off well and it sounds amazing and clear.
  I haven't talked to one person that doesn't like Ben Folds.  His talent is astounding, and if you can't recognize that, go see a doctor.  A very good doctor.  
  I admit it, I'm in love with Ben Folds.  But I bet you will be too once you give him a listen.


Check out some of my favorites, they're great.

Band of the Week: Neutral Milk Hotel

   Neutral Milk Hotel, in my opinion, is a fantastic band.  If you haven't heard of them before, I highly suggest you download some songs before your mind blows from lack of magnificent music.
   I've never heard a band sound even close to what Neutral Milk Hotel sounds like.  They're unique in their music and Jeff Mangum is an excellent singer who isn't afraid to experiment with his voice.  They even have bagpipes sometimes.  One of the things I absolutely love is that the whole album "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" is based on the story of Anne Frank.  He's not afraid to be spiritual and blunt.  I never get bored listening to them.
   Neutral Milk Hotel dominates about every 90's band out there.  It's just a shame it was in the 90's, not now.  I'd pay good money to see them.  They're that great.


And now, I give you Neutral Milk Hotel!






   

Poems and Peers

   I discovered something I hate this week.  In my creative writing class, we were put into groups of four to critique one another's poems.  I was put with one of my friends--that was perfectly fine--and two girls.  Now, I have nothing against peer evaluation, except that... Okay I do.  Don't get me wrong, I love when people help me with organization, grammar, punctuation, word order and things like that on the essays I've written, but when it comes to poems, it's a little different.
   See, I happened to have a completely different writing style than the people in my group (one girl in particular).  If we were spices, I'd be something like chili powder and she'd be something like.... well, some bland spice (I do know that is an oxymoron, yes).  As a person, she's completely fine.  But as a critic, I dislike her minor close mindedness problem.  And she says age-ed instead of aged.  Who does that?
   What I'm basically trying to say is I didn't like when she tried to change my poem to make it her style.  That's all.
   I wrote this poem during the summer of '09 and I've been tweaking it ever since.  I'm very pleased with it.  It was inspired by Anis Mojgani, as usual.

Lost

Listening to my ears hear the crackling barely noise of this old radio,

it talks about neighbors and Jesus and lightbulbs.

It shows my ears the landscape of the noise light.

We talk together, my radio and I, about buildings and growing and batteries.

It takes my feelings and spits them back out into my dry, frozen hands,

changing them into un-butterflies and crushed sugar cubes.

The girl across the street has grown up so fast,

but maybe it’s just us.

Everything in the world is changing,

the wheat heads are severed, we eat it through our animals.

The shudders of the world are ridden by man like a carnival-

they cause this.

And my radio and I,

we sit, we listen to our ears hear the crackling barely noise of death.

We listen to our ears hear the wet of their eyes after,

we listen to our ears hear the cheerless song of the lost. 

Mormon skinny dipping?

Yesterday I was looking up hot springs in Utah and I happened upon this forum.  Of course, I clicked on the link, and there it was... An article about a mormon skinny dipping and walking around butt naked, written by Full Monty himself.  I had no idea this forum existed.  What have I been missing?

I quite enjoyed reading the post explaining the site, these people have some interesting views.  I guess no one ever said that we had to wear clothes to be modest, so I guess no clothes are better than the revealing ones.  Right?

Although I don't particularly agree with most things posted on the forum, I did get a good laugh from it.  I'd really like to meet the person who thought up the whole idea of starting it in the first place.  But I have a feeling that if I met that person, they probably wouldn't have any clothes on.

A paradelle for you.

While procrastinating writing a sonnet for my creative writing class, I started looking at some of the poems I wrote my senior year for a class. I came across a paradelle I wrote. Basically, a paradelle is a type of poem format some guy came up with to mock other strict formats such as a villanelle. As you may have guessed, the format is quite grueling. You'll get what I mean after reading my poem.

And now, for your enjoyment, my paradelle.

Paradelle for Fox

The trees are a blur of forest.

The trees are a blur of forest.

Their branches hit the window like angry fingers.

Their branches hit the window like angry fingers.

The forest fingers blur the angry window,

Their trees are like branches of a hit.

Under a bridge the water surges onward.

Under a bridge the water surges onward.

Blue plays with the sun at its depths.

Blue plays with the sun at its depths.

A bridge under the blue sun plays the water

at depths onward with its surges.

The fox comes from his shadowed lair.

The fox comes from his shadowed lair.

Hearing hastening wind it rushes to its young.

Hearing hastening wind it rushes to its young.

His shadowed hearing rushes from the wind fox,

It comes to its hastening young lair.

Its branches under a shadowed bridge

are hearing young forest fox.

Their blur plays with the hastening at a wind.

His sun comes to the fingers of the angry depths.

Onward it surges like the blue lair,

Its water rushes from the hit window trees.