We're big fans of challenges here at dcpierson.com. Maybe it's the principal of creative limitation, which says that having guidelines and limitations actually forces us to get MORE creative, or maybe it's just that I'm fucking lazy. To combine my love of challenges with my inherent slothfulness, I'm laying a new one on the table that requires nothing from me except picking a bunch of songs I like. I have picked 21 songs. I have sent them all to Donald. At my New York 21st birthday party (I will have been 21 like forever at that point, but I like to drink with friends, so...) he will present me with a DJ mix using all the songs and whatever the fuck else he wants to throw on there.
The tracks are:
"Woman King" Iron & Wine
"There It Go (The Whistle Song)" Juelz Santana
"Wicked Little Town (Hedwig version)" Hedwig and The Angry Inch
"I'm Still In Love With You," Al Green
"1 Thing," Amerie
"Me Plus One," Annie
"I'm Still Your Fag," Broken Social Scene
"Oh I think They Like Me," Dem Franchise Boyz
"Oragami Cranes," Emilyn Brodsky
"Crosses," José Gonzalez
"Let's Run," Le Tigre
"Something's Going On," Lambchop
"Flossin'," Mike Jones
"Bigmouth Strikes Again," The Smiths
"Go Crazy,"Young Jeezy
"On & On," Missy Elliot
"Paul Simon," The Russian Futurists
"One More Chance (remix)" Notorious B.I.G.
"Twilight" Elliott Smith
I'll post some mp3s every day...I'd post 'em all at once but I'm not flossing that kind of bandwith.
Now let's go get drunk and kissed!
Fratboys and robots agree: Donald's MCDJ New Year's mix is ill! If you are wondering how "O Brother, Where Art Thou?," The White Stripes, Southern hip-hop, Jack Johnson, Ciara, and a bunch of music you used to listen to when you were 14 can conspire to get you laid, you can find out totes free here.
If my future-themed birthday party is any indication, in twenty years we we all either be pregnant, fat, or wrapped in tin foil. Or a combination thereof.
Robot cops. Not pictured: Jack as gay robot cop.
Mike as Horny Robot. Greg as World Series of POG champion (this costume predicated on POGs experiencing a hold'em-poker style reinassance of popularity). Erica as the girl whose Facebook photo album I'm ganking all these pictures from. Thanks, Erica.
When I could not think of a costume, Tim suggested "you should just be a guy in a cape." I like that somewhere across town, Robbie had the same idea. In the future there will be Indie Vampires.
Most theorists agree: in the future there will be cute girls.
Foreground: In the future I will be me except I will have silver gauntlets and anklets and a Robot Necktie, and when I do something illogical it will shock me, hence this expression. Background: Jack as Gay Robot Cop.
Robot Necktie was (somehow) better than my original idea, which was wearing a sign that said "Clone of DC."
In the future, we will all get massively fucked up, people will give me money for the keg, and Donald's DJ mix will be a big hit.
Hammerkatz is my sketch comedy group. These people on the Internet think we're cool.
Ben Mautner mentions us in the same breath as The Lonely Island, which is positive 'cause those dudes all work at SNL now and Samberg just got more famous than God thanks to "Lazy Sunday."
This cute girl in Missouri calls us "The Best Sketch Comedy Ever." When you open her MySpace profile two embedded songs start playing simultaneously. It is like a mash-up of two songs by model-pretty emo bands. She mentions us along with Dane Cook, who is uberfamous. Is being mentioned on the Internet in the same breath as famous people the same as being famous? Let's say that it is.
We had a video in the most recent Spoiler Film Festival. You can see it here. I play a co-worker!
Hammerkatz NYU, the college group Donald and I direct, did a video this semester called "Pasadena General" that killed. It was written by the recently graduated badass Harry Terjanian and directed by badass Dan Eckman. Check it out here and please tell all your taste-making, influence-brokering friends to do the same.
And as always, the Hammerkatz canon of online video is here under "Films" and is a good way to kill twenty minutes or so.
From what they tell me I threw up in the cab. I just remember getting in the cab and later, being puzzled as to why the cabdriver was so angry. It is funny how inexplicable a dude's anger becomes when you excise, via booze, the fact that you basically vomitted in his workplace.
At one point at the bar I was made to chug a dirty Ketel One martini with three olives, which is a little like fast-forwarding through "Citizen Kane."
Thanks to Chuck, Trevor, Gurg, and a host of people I haven't seen in forever for showering me with expensive drinks and making me feel like a champ, and then very shortly thereafter, like a giant drunken infant incapable of doing anything except throwing up and sleeping.
Tommorrow night: the official party of me being 21. The theme is THE FUTURE. If you're a Phoenix person you should come: it should be debauched and there should be a good amount of sexy robots. Get at me if you need directions.
Speaking of sexy robots, here's their theme song (it's also one of the awesomest songs of the year): Ladytron - Destroy Everything You Touch (right click/save as)
I better hurry and do all that underage drinking I've been putting off.
Notorious BIG - The Wickedest (Mister Cee Freestyle) (right click/save as)
If I were a writer for a late night comedy show whose monologue is directed at second graders, I would be jumping for joy right now. That is like a week's worth of material for a very topical pottymouth.
Big Star was from Memphis.
Not from Texas. (Oops.)
Dude I write comedy, co-direct Hammerkatz NYU, break hearts and take names with, Donald Glover, is one of New York Magazine's Top 25 New Yorkers Under 25. No small feat considering nobody is in New York is there to play around and wait 'till they're thirty to make any sort of move. In a city of those on the grind, my boy is one of the grindiest, so says a glossy magazine. It would be less impressive in a city full of knock-kneed sluggards and layabouts. Like Duluth. (I have no basis for that. I just wanna get a full-color brochure from the guy in the Duluth Chamber Of Commerce whose job it is to google "Duluth" and see if anybody's randomly accusing it of being full of lazy people.)
To celebrate, here's one of my favorite deep cuts from Donald's Fiona Apple remix album:
"(Apple) Besides" - MCDJ (right click/save as)
You can get the whole thing free at dude's blog.
I have been immune to effort since I got to Arizona.
Among the things I haven't been immune to: eating ridiculous amounts of home-cooked food, a commensurate amount of desserts, watching "Dog: The Bounty Hunter," playing video games with my little brothers and losing a bunch, reading the book I got about the origin of comic books, pretending to Christmas shop but mostly just making fun of the obese or otherwise unsightly at the mall, playing drinking games at Alecia/Chuck/Trevor's house, sleep.
Writing this is only thing I've done that's even remotely productive. And that's pretty sad considering I'm eyeing the clock and trying to remember if I'm missing Forensic Files or not. Here are some brief thoughts on some cultural products I've consumed in the past week.
King Kong: Every emotional moment was held for exactly twenty-five seconds too long. Naomi Watts has Crazy Eyes. Peter Jackson is getting heaps of praise for being faithful to the original, but dude, don't be faithful to the parts of the orignal that are whack. Note to future biographers: be faithful the parts of my life story that make me awesome (dinosaur fights), not the parts that make me look bloated, over-long, or self-indulgent. And there will be plenty of those.
40 Year Old Virgin: As good as I'd heard. Steve Carrell is a great. Fucking. Actor. Perhaps an even better Dude Movie than "Wedding Crashers." Bet it was even better without the 17 extra DVD minutes or whatever.
The Young Jeezy album: I judge people who like music or movies more for the way those things jibe with their political beliefs than how good the actual music or movie is, but I'm a hypocrite, 'cause I like rap albums by dudes that are all about motivation. Mediocre ones (If I were making a top ten albums 2005 list, the Mike Jones record would be on it if I were an honest guy, 'cause I listened to it more than Sufjan, probs) all the way up to good ones, like this one seems to be. If a little long.
Remember: you don't grind, you don't eat.
And judging strictly by the way I've been eating for the past week, I must've been grinding my ass off.
I leave in an hour and after that I'll be in Phoenix for three weeks.
Which is cool 'cause that's three weeks of my family and best home-friends and food and driving around with my arm out the window listening to oldies and giant fountain sodas and my twenty-first birthday.
But sucks 'cause even when it's cold as dicks outside I am unabashedly in love with this city, even when I'm lonely or dressed as a rabbit for money in Times Square, and she has been profoundly generous to me lately in terms of money and awesome showbiz things.
I will either miss you or I have missed you for several months and we will spend the next twenty-odd days catching up on old times and drinking our eyes out.
Things to do tonight:
Go be in this show. (click link for fun video and clever graphic.)
I'm debating whether or not to walk to the theater. The pre-show walk to UCB is always a nice head-clearer, but the wind is a douche tonight. I am thinking a hot beverage will balance things out nicely. (I would be a clutch decision-maker in a nuclear brinksmanship type situation.)
Things I have to do before I leave town early Friday morning:
- Dress up like a giant mouse finally (I got out of it two other times)
- Turn in a screenplay (or part of it)
- Take a WWII final
- Turn in an OC spec (or part of it)
- Bartend twice
- Babysit once
- This isn't a thing to do, but Gorilla Vs Bear is right, this first track on the new Strokes album IS really good. And it's the first album cover in a long time that I really like, a welcome break from all those weird-child-drawings-of-horses-with-collage-elements freak-folk album covers. It's got class.
I'm gonna go be in that show now. Here's more Big Star (crank it).
Today after a rehearsal that seemed very early after waking up hung over from what was an epic party by Hammerkatz standards (they're very low, these standards, but it was a v. fun time), I said something about getting slept on and Gregor asked me what it meant. It's when somebody doesn't acknowledge The Awesome.
Big Star got universally slept on. They were a Texas band in the 70's that should've had a boatload of hits and due to label fumbling and lineup changes they just didn't and they faded into obscurity, then got picked up much later by dudes with hair as long as the people that should have been really into them back in the 70's. Their sound can aptly be described with a lyric from a Nada Surf song: "giant golden radio." Big shimmery perfect-o rock singles. I got their two-album-one-CD compilation "#1 Record/Radio City" today for ten bucks thanks to a sale sticker some Tower Records employee apparently forgot to peel off. I'll post a couple tracks a day and then take them down, the message this week being DON'T SLEEP. Awesome is here and gone. It waits for no one.
The Hammerkatz NYU show last night was phyllis killer (Pictures here, if you're logged into facebook). Then the party, which was also a kick. Then today after rehearsal Gregor distributed the money we made doing a gig at the high school where they filmed "Dead Poet's Society" in Delaware last weekend. Forty seven bucks! I immediately conspired to blow the loot on cheeseburgers and record albums. Besides Big Star, I got the still-so-good Jose Gonzalez album and a book called "Men of Tomorrow" about the origin of comic books. I'm only forty-something pages in but I recommend it if there's someone on your Christmas list who is either a history buff, comic geek, or fan of artistic ghettos that grow into magnificent cultural powerhouses. There's all kinds of old-New-York details and paeans to the power of imagination, sci-fi, and storytelling: it's pretty much porn for me. I drank some tea and sat outside and read going "this thing he's mentioning is three blocks from here, this thing he's mentioning is right across the street," which always delights me way more than it should. Then I went home and watched "The Wire" on DVD (I've cached "Sopranos," sniff) and took a nap. It was a super afternoon of very few obligations, taken on with the optimism of a boy who's just been handed forty-seven bucks he earned making high schoolers laugh, who hasn't gotten to wander around like this in a while.
The cold doesn't bother me an eighth as much as it used to. Talk to me again in February, I guess, but right now it's sort of neat.
Remember: don't sleep. I'm going to watch television and do laundry instead.
when you got up to go to the bathroom
I snuck a look at your computer screen
and saw that you are applying to the Rhetoric Department
at UC Berkley.
I am sorry for this invasion of privacy.
I will marry you
to make up for it.
Indeed it snowed and I slept for eleven hours, interrupted only by a phonecall that said I didn't have to go wear a mouse costume. I have to tomorrow though.
I felt deeply sad as I pulled the last Sopranos DVD from its Netflix sleeve.
Hammerkatz NYU show tomorrow night.
If it doesn't snow tommorrow I don't have to wear a giant mouse costume.
The Rentals - "Please Let That Be You" (right click save as)
The nice thing about writing a paper about Winston Churchill is you can imagine the British Bulldog cheering you on from the grave. If he could serve as the corageous backbone of a nation he can get you through twelve to fourteen pages.
The problem with writing a paper about Winston Churchill is when you take a break from writing your paper about Winston Churchill (I have it outlined, that's half the battle) to make a blog post, you end up going through your Gmail looking for an mp3 to post thinking "Hmm, none of these have ANYTHING to do with WWII..."
But he does have this neat quote where he says to his daughter, "War is a game played with a smiling face, but do you think there is laughter in my heart?"
So on that note, here is an mp3 from a dude who also wears a mask and also has a brilliant command of the English language. It is a song about being a trickster badass, some shit Winston Churchill invented.
Madvillain (MF DOOM + Madlib) - "Rhinestone Cowboy" (right click/save as)
(The paper is also about FDR, but he was not nearly as much of a badass.)
A beautiful song about being exhausted by the future Mrs. DC Pierson (see above). "This is crazy": indeed.
Neko Case - "I Wish I Was The Moon" (right click/save as)
If you see me anytime between now and Friday and I'm not in front of a computer, writing, strip the nearest wire and shock me until I trudge back into my one of my subterranean computer-lab hideouts with coffee and an inability to not fuck around on the internet for three hours before doing any actual work.
In other news: I am a big fan of snow!
I am about to have the craziest week of my life, work-wise. Comedy and schoolwork are all converging on this week with their shows and pages and papers. Writing will be light, but content will still be in force. I have a ton of mp3s lying around in my Gmail and if you promise to keep showing up I'll give ya a new one every day. You know I have ILL taste in music and I know you have headphones even if you're at work. Check it:
Hammerkatz - "Home Of The Rape" (right click save as)
This is actually not a song, but a sketch I wrote that Hammerkatz had in our show "And Other Reasons To Cry" this year for the longest time at UCBT. It features myself, Harry Terjanian, and was produced by Donald Glover. People seemed to enjoy it. Take a listen.
Nat'l Novel Writing Month Short Story Writing Challenge, Day Twenty Five (final story)
Today's suggestion is from Kate Chamuris: "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere"
Whatever you do, when you’re done hooking up with a girl, don’t roll over, laugh, and say “30!” Because probably she’ll get really self-conscious and ask if what the two of you just shared was part of some sick sexual bet like something out of a teen sex comedy or something.
But if you DO do that and she DOES respond that way, you should get really hurt that she would even entertain the remote possibility that you would be involved in something like that and start to put your pants on, so she’ll kiss you and apologize and say “Of course you wouldn’t, it was just a weird thing to say, but never mind” and turn Sade way, way up and pull you back into bed.
Whatever you do, once you’ve hooked up the second time, don’t roll over, grab your cell phone, make a call and yell into the phone, “Guess what, Kyle? YOU owe ME fifty bucks!” Because probably she’ll immediately start crying and say clearly there’s some sick fucking thing going on and you’re an asshole and you should get out of here right fucking now, etc. ESPECIALLY don’t do this if Kyle is her brother’s name.
But if you DO do that, go “WHOA WHOA WHOA” and get really really self-righteously angry because the only way to stop her being pissed off at you is to be more convincingly pissed off at her and tell her that when you’re with her she’s all you think about but in that brief second immediately after orgasm when a man has positively zero interest in sex you just happened to remember that Kyle owed you fifty bucks because the Seahawks won on Sunday and you and him had a bet and you didn’t want to forget because as his sister, she should know that Kyle is a notorious flake, and anyway you were going to use that fifty bucks to take the both of you to dinner but I guess that’s--- and there will be a longer reconciliation dance than last time but hopefully the end result will be the same, you back in bed, Sade up.
Whatever you do, once you guys have had sex an unprecedented third time, don’t wait for her to doze off and then get up and start putting her panties in a Ziploc bag which you have labeled, in black Sharpie, “AGREED-UPON EVIDENCE NECESSARY FOR KYLE TO PAY DEVIN FIFTY BUCKS FOR SLEEPING WITH THIRTY GIRLS IN THIRTY DAYS (THE THIRTIETH BEING NATALIE, KYLE’S SLUTTY SISTER), EXHIBIT #30.” Because the rustling of the bag will wake her up and she’ll scream and grab the bag from you and read the label and then there will be some SERIOUS shrieking and crying and she’ll pummel you with that hell-hath-no-fury girl hit that’s all forearms: “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE YOU LYING FUCKING YOU FUCKING LYING FUCKING ASSHOLE!”
But if you DO do that, counter by shaking her in that this-isn’t-abuse-because-I’m-so-sensitive way you see in movies, and say NATALIE, LISTEN, LISTEN NATALIE? NATALIE? Saying her name in that questioning cadence while you wait for her to calm down and let you speak and when she does, finally, tell her that Kyle gave that to you as a sick joke he thought was really funny but instead of telling Kyle off right then and there for disrespecting his sister like that you pretended to think it was funny and what you were going to do was actually get some panties and bring them back to Kyle so Kyle would think you were going along with it and then you’d say “Really? Is this what you want, Kyle?” and then you’d JACK him in the face and when he’s down, put a knee to his temple and put all your weight on it and say “This is funny to you, Kyle? This is fucking funny?” and tell him he oughta be ashamed, he’s supposed to be defending his sister from asshole guys, there’s not supposed to be a guy defending her from her asshole brother, okay, Kyle? And you were gonna leave him blubbering and apologizing in the gutter and come to pick her up and take her to dinner with the fifty bucks from the Seahawks bet--- and if you really sell it, I mean really fucking Julliard-level sell the shit out of it, it will be a while but you guys will be back on the bed eventually and it will be even better than it has been all night. By now, Simon and Garfunkel will have taken over for Sade on the 5-disc changer.
Whatever you do, when you guys are absolutely cached from that amazing fucksymphony and she’s passed out from exhaustion, don’t get up, go to your bag, pull out a giant adding machine and a notebook, then go over to her desk and put on an old-fashioned green visor and start loudly adding up figures like you’re a Depression-era accountant. Because if you do, no matter how tired she is, the clicking and clacking of the keys and the pulling of the lever and you cackling greedily to yourself will wake her up and she’ll say What the hell are you DOING and come over and grab the notebook and see that the last row has the number “25” and it and the column’s denoted “DOLLARS KYLE WILL PAY DEVIN AS A BONUS IF AFTER SLEEPING WITH NATALIE AS THE THIRTIETH GIRL OF THE BET, DEVIN SOMEHOW HAS SEX WITH HER THREE ADDITIONAL TIMES” because her eyes will fill with murderous rage and she’ll pick up the adding machine and threaten to bludgeon you to fucking death with it if you don’t get the fuck out right the fuck now and you are forced out of her dorm room with no clothes and will have to walk home in just your underwear and an old-fashioned green visor and NOW who looks like the slut?
Poems about movies I've seen recently
THE NIGHT BRIGHT EYES CAME FOR MY BALLS
suggested by "Good Night and Good Luck"
Just because I listen
to The Cure
and New Order
doesn't mean I forfeit my right
to a world where
we smoke with our shirtsleeves rolled up
and the only liquids are scotch and coffee (occasionally combined)
and a little playful sexual harassment of the dames in the newsroom
never hurt anybody
and we have Principals
with a capital P
and the only Deconstruction
is what we threaten
to do to evildoer's faces
with our fists.
ironic detachment and disaffection:
INSTEAD OF TALKING HER TO DEATH
as suggested by "In The Mood For Love"
The sexiest part
is when the kiss is inevitable
but it hasn’t actually happened yet.
to two hours and ten minutes
and you have a very sexy movie.
to a lifetime
and you have a big stone temple of regret.
Alone and right or
kissed and wrong:
The unanswerable riddle that guarantees
there will always be
I really must insist you go watch all the Derrick Rejected TV Theme Songs, and if you laugh, tell five friends over instant messenger to do the same.
November is technically over, but I have one more UCB Greenroom suggestion and twenty-five is a nice round number, so I'll post another story tommorrow night. Tonight I have to go to class and then I plan on going to UCB for Cagematch and getting obscured on cheap beer. (I am trying to push "obscured" as slang for "fucked up." Help me out.)
I would also like to note that New York City is the only place in the world where within three blocks of your place you can run into a guy you haven't seen since you both taped a reality TV show pilot in upstate New York two summers ago who is apparently in "Transmetropolitan" and the new M Night Shamalyan movie now and then get called "faggot" by two gutterpunk fourteen year olds. And so much pizza!
Elliot Smith - "Thirteen" (Big Star Cover) (right click save as)