Random thoughts on life

I am such a Libra, all I want is both of my blogs to have the same about of posts. It drives me absolutely nutty that this blog has 5-6 fewer blogs than my other one. Yet, it's so hard to write about literary artifacts when I barely have time to read any.
Life is crazy during summer school, I have no time for myself or homework for that matter. I know if I would just blow off everyone I know that I could finish in know time. But seriously, it's summer time and where is the fun in that?
My last roommate told me that summer school would be so boring that I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I'd say that for the first week, if that, it was borderline boring. But afterwards the only time I have had to settle down and catch up with myself was when I was put on rest for a week after my appendix.
The downside to that was that everyone missed me, so to make up for it I have been double timing it since. Shit, I'll still miss this summer once it's gone. I know my GPA won't nor will my sleep. But that's OK, life isn't about GPA or sleep.
I have discovered so many wonderful bands recently. Toward the end of spring semester I became obsessed with John Frusc'iante's solo work, I acquired the "Cereal Song." Originally it was sent to me marked as "Heroin" by John Frusciante, but while I was researching it I found out that it was "The Cereal Song," by the Bicycle Thiefs. I just bought their album, "You Come and Go Like a Pop Song." It's absolutely wonderful, everyone should buy it.
Ah, it's late. And this useless and random post is coming to an end. Besides, I am only 319 pages into the latest Harry Potter. Hopefully I will be finished by the Wednesday at 8 pmish.

Into the Liner Notes?

I went up to the Park Way with my friend, Jes, we laid on my car talking about absolutely everything that made the slightest impact on our brains tonight. We discussed traveling and ways to travel, and I guess it amazes me how good friends can read and understand each other without meaning to or trying. Jes and I were talking about various different ways to travel, explaining ourselves in seemingly professional travel jargon--yet, everything was understood. I say seemingly professional travel jargon because Jes and I were definitely creating words and terminology ourselves and passing it off as what is.
We came to the conclusion that music is the only true importance in the world. Mainly, music has to first be felt, and second be understood. After you feel a song, you definitely understand it on a different and personal level. It's then, and only then, that music can come alive. Everyone needs to watch the trailer for Across the Universe [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VTPSL9TcJc]. Wait until almost the end, then you'll hear the best lines ever spoken; " Music is the only thing that makes sense anymore, man. Play it loud enough, it keeps the demons at bay."
Anyway, what sparked this over the top love for music was a picturesque moment tonight. Jes and I were watching the skies, laying on my car, constantly rambling, and listening to John Frusciante. Half way through "Falling," Jes and I realize that the wind and clouds are moving in beat with the music. It was awesome, the clouds and wind were telling a story in correlation to the song.
We also realized that John Frusciante is the perfect windy night out on the Park Way music. Every song that played on my stereo was the perfect song for the moment. I don't think I can accurately explain it. But, everything I felt, the music spoke.

Who's going to solve the equation for Generation X?

I am beginning to regret titling this blog "literary," it's not the easiest thing to consistantly write something "literary."

I was watching this really awesome program on VH1 Classics during lunch today and they discuss the growth, evolution and aftermath of some of the greatest albums. I watched a part of Queen's Night at the Opera and Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

And bands are seriously not living up to their jobs, potential or expectations. Elton John and Queen did these fabulous things with intricate costumes, bizarre costumes and just had a blast doing it. Now a days, costumes and a good show are substituted for talent and musical ability.

The costumes they wore help interpret the music, maybe it would be better to say that the costumes brought the music to a new level, and unheard of level before. Anyway, the point is, the songs feel different when the artists wear different costumes.

What Elton John and Queen wore are not necessarily fashionable, or even cool. Most of the time they are obscenely odd and look rather uncomfortable to wear and move around in...but that's what makes the music that much more awesome. It's despite the uncomfortable, sticky, hot clothing that they wore and still managed to rock out.

Take Woodstock '94, with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, they wore light bulbs on their head for some odd reason (and yes, oddly enough, there was a reason), but Flea still managed to dance around the stage and go nuts...nut as nuts as before, but still an impressive amount considering what was on his head.

The more I look at what the musicians, authors, etc did during the late 1960's and the early 1970's, the more I start to wonder why it's different for us. Hopefully there will be a big musical uproar, we are in definite need of it.

Being young isn't all it's cracked up to be, just to let you know.

It's not so much that I hate being young, I just hate not being able to easily experience some of the things that older people experienced as a part of their daily life.

Don't get me wrong, I love modern technology as much as the next person. But I hate how quickly things change. These days book covers change between printings, regardless of if the printings are only a couple of months apart from each other. It's ridiculous and if the second printing has a cooler cover I am eternally angry and jealous.

Also, whose hair brained idea was it to change classic book covers? Like Tom Wolfe's novels, who decided that it would be a good idea to go from his graphically awesome and colorful covers to the bland and wordy covers of today?

I judge books by covers. And I'm serious, I think a lot of the book can be determined by it's cover and I despise the saying "Never judge a book by it's cover." Sure, it has good intentions, but as "Devil's Playground" taught me; "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Also, people are so fucking money hungry. It's sickening. If I want to be cool and get Tom Wolfe books with the good cover, I'd have to shell out over 50 bucks. I just don't ever see myself being able to willingly spend that much money on a book, especially when I can get it for 10.

I think I'm going to start a petition and create a law that says you cannot change the original cover of novels. Besides, the cover was chosen for a reason, there was meaning behind it and there was obviously some connection between the mood of everyone involved, the interpretation of the novel and the artists.

Not only that, the genre that Tom Wolfe, Hunter S. Thompson, Norman Mailer, Robert Xgau, etc specialize in depends greatly on the time it was written, the place and the experience. All of which is conveyed directly through the cover.

To end this rant, by changing the cover the editors are taking part of the writers work and throwing it in the trash. And I'd like to extend a big fuck you to the editors.

Also, what happened to records? Venal? Ring a bell, anyone?

As the days go by I seriously consider selling out more and more just so I can buy all the cool things I want. Then I'd probably fuck over who ever I sold out to to get out of my contract. Then all the independent places would be saying "Whoa, that's sweet. Sticking it to the (wo)man." And I'd get mad job offers.

Except. All the first editions and venal records couldn't let me sleep at night. And not because I'd be reading and listening to them. But because selling out doesn't seem like fun.

Err, Uhh, Yea?

I was just thinking about something in correlation with Fahrenheit 451. In the interview in my edition Ray Bradbury talks about how the events in the book have already taken place. He is right and it is creepy.

How many stupid cars have TVs in them? Or worse, how many TVs can people put into stupid cars. What about when people put TVs in the head rest of the last row, what type of distraction does that give to the driver behind the person.

I thought that all of our new fangled technology was supposed to be making life safer and easier to live. Not more obnoxious and dangerous. If I ever become a journalist or even better, an influential journalist, I am going to start a notion to get TVs out of cars.

There are so many better things to do than watch TV in a car, and take it from someone who gets more motion sick than not. Listen to music, have your friends make a new music mix before you go. It's a bonding experience, not only do you get to hear new music (and make that a rule, it has to be new music) but you get to hear what your friend listens to and hopefully get a better understanding of how they interpret music. Then, talk about the music, love the music. Worship the music.

Or you can draw pictures, create lists of books you want to read. Basically, do anything other than watching TV. I have a 13 inch TV that's four hours a way from me. After not having a TV in my room, I seriously don't think that I can ever have a TV in my room. I like the way my room looks without a TV and the fact that I don't have one. TV rots your brain anyway.

But that really was not the point of this post, at all in fact. I guess this deserves to be in the literary blog because it focuses around Fahrenheit 451. In the book, everyone watched mindless TV.

When I walk out and someone is watching TV and barely noticing anything around them, it sickens me to my core. Or worse, when someone walks past and I am doing the same thing...it makes me turn off the TV once I realize that I've done it and read a book.

Books are far better for your imagination than TV. TV shows and such spoil everything, they type cast people. The actors and actresses are about 10-15 pounds lighter than they should be and it makes every feel like fat lard asses.

While books on the other hand, give few details and maybe say "Oh, she's about 5 feet tall." But rarely, those details just aren't important in books. Plus, you can take a book anywhere you want.

OK. I'm just going to stop and post this how it is. I seriously don't even remember why I started.

Oh! Yea, I was thinking. Does it make me a hypocrite to love books and movies equally? Yet have a true and disdain hatred for TV? Sometimes I think it does, but most of the time I don't. One of the things I hate about TV is how quickly and illogically all the mysteries and plot twists are solved. I also hate how quickly things move. But in a movie, they tackle the same amount of drama that a book does, in an hour and 40 or so minutes. Is that enough of a difference to like movies and not be hypocritical?

To my diligent non existant readers...

Forgive me for rarely posting. School likes to bite my ass, hardcore too.
But in return for not writing pointless rants about literature, I have compiled a book list:

1. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test -- Tom Wolfe
2. The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline baby -- Tom Wolfe
3. Armies of the Night -- Norman Mailer
4. The Naked and the Dead -- Norman Mailer
5. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest -- Ken Kesey
6. Cat's Cradle -- Kurt Vonnegut
7. Galapagos -- Kurt Vonnegut
8. Siddhartha -- Herman Hesse
9. Song Book -- Nick Hornby
10. The Fountainhead -- Ayn Rand
11. The Polysyllabic Spree -- Nick Hornby
12. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay -- Micheal Chabon
13. Lord of Flies -- William Golding
14. The Plague -- Albert Camus

The honest and true truth about diamonds...

As a semi-joke my older sister gave me "The Truth About Diamonds" by Nicole Richie for Christmas this year. I feel really badly, everytime she and her husband go to the bookstore and pick out a book--I already own it. I think what makes me feel worse is that the books I own I have read for fun (makes me feel nerdy too, to be honest). So after they gave me Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" my sister said that she was determined to find a book that I had not read or did not own. Thus enters, Nicole Richie.

I will admit that at first, I was not planning on reading the book. But after a while, and the more it sunk in, I realized that I could not pass up on the sensation hit of a novel. And oh what a great novel it was.

I honestly, have not laughed at a book that much in so long. But, it wasn't a humor book. It was a completely fictitious book about a girl, who at the young and tender age of seven was adopted by rock star parents and went on to live a rock star elitist life. Along the way she met rock star friends who introduced her to drugs. She was arrested twice and went to rehab to cure her heroin addiction, all before her 20's too, mind you! She also starred in a reality show, where she toured the country promoting her show and such. As you can tell by the synopsis, Nicole Richie seriously went out on a limb with her creativity. Honestly, the way she was able to relate and connect with this fictitious character was amazing.

All joking aside, credit does have to be given to Nicole for admitting that the main character could easily pass as her. Also, even though Nicole has some really wicked high standards of living and what she owns, wears, or deals with...she does admit that a girl only needs a couple diamonds (one on the finger from a darling boy, but of course!).

The close of the book is where she seriously needs to be given credit--Nicole says that diamonds are not beautiful for how expensive they are or how rare they are, but instead are beautiful for who gave them to you. She also reminds the readers that no diamond is perfect, just like no person is perfect.

Aight, that's enough mushy gushy shit--time it ridicule.

This book is ridiculous. The font is at least a size 18 and the spacing has to be set at 1.5. Plus, to top it all off...Nicole has a ridiculously retarded random photo shoot in the center of the book. Nicole isn't even the main character, she's just the narrator. I don't get it--the only thing that makes a remote amount of sense to me is if Nicole is posing as Chloe (the main character).

The sentence structure, language, and over all tone of the book is enough to not read it--and that's not even including the plot outline. I took my time reading this book and it took me less than 10 hours (with many, many, many breaks) and it's only 226 words. There is no need to guess, the out come of the book is known in the beginning. And worse, the fights and battles aren't even real.

For example: Chloe falls for DJ Ray (Wow, imagine that, falling for a DJ!) and they begin a relationship. However, Chloe has to make an appearance at a Las Vegas club before heading home--so DJ Jay goes home alone. An article is published about "Chloe's Secret Wedding." Where Chloe is reportedly too drunk to remember marrying another man. DJ Jay calls Chloe up and ends things (the same day they were begun). Well, what makes this ridiculous, is that not even an hour later, or hearing any explanation from Chloe, DJ Jay calls her back up and tells her that he doesn't care about the marriage--he still wants to date her. Seriously? Would that happen? That easily? HAH! Bullshit.

And to top off the bullshit, there is the public matter. Chloe was so wasted and fucked out of her mind that she didn't remember getting married, or even going to Las Vegas. Well, apparently she didn't get married and the article was found out to be false right after Chloe got off the phone with DJ Jay for the second time. The first time DJ Jay called was when Chloe first found out about the the article.

In what reality would all of that settle down that quickly? And come to a close that quickly? Where is the drama, the fighting, the foreshadowing. That's just introducing the drama and ending it immediately because obviously, whoever (even if it was Nicole, which I find hard to believe) wrote this didn't know how to write the drama.

How boring is that? How can that be analyzed? If you enjoy reading books that take absolutely no time to read, make no logical sense what-so-ever, and have an unbelievably predictable plot--seriously, read this book. You'll love it.

And by the way, guys, you'll love it more. There is a scene where Nicole and Chloe go over to one of their friends house, who is nudest. They just walk into her room and strip down naked--I am guessing it was the normal thing to do in that house? Because Nicole, the narrator, definitely did not make a big deal about it and only casually referenced it. And seriously, who goes over to a friends house and just strips down?