"working on my faults and cracks..."


Summer (In 'B')

News In Briefs
WYWS Edition

* Nobu had been pimping his "Killer Killer Fantastic Bomb" live graffiti exhibition for months; stickers, flyers, a website, and more stickers. Sadly, more than I know what to do with. But despite the ridiculous name, and silly advertising campaign, it actually turned out pretty awesome. If only I could do something about these leftover sticker reminders--on my bicycle, my desk, my umbrella, my class notebook...

* When I finally got a chance to talk to guitarist Christian McAlhaney from Anberlin, what did we talk about? The scope of "Cities"? About his stint in Acceptance? Why they couldn't play "*Fin"? Nope. We talked about poop. Or rather, our poop. In Japan. Reminds me of that time when Patrick Stumph and I talked about Ramune bottles and mayonnaise. Geez, I get the chance, and I always forget about the music.

* Why does the new Amber Pacific album annoy the hell out of me? Because producer Martin Feveyear masterfully followed the uninspiring pop punk rules of thumb to a tee:
(1) "Track 1: 30 seconds of ambiant thunder and rain shit. Tracks 2 through 10: power chords. Track 11: use some soaring orchestral arrangement. And power chords."
(2) "Every song totally blows until the first modulation."
(3) "Track 7 is the piano-driven ballad. With power chords."
(4) "There must be no fewer than three, but no more than five face melting guitar solos."
(5) "Intro, verse, chorus, and refrain 5x. Multiple verses are for emo. And Radiohead."
(6) "Hooks? Check. Riffs? Check. Unholy abuse of power chords? Double check. Time to track the vocals."
But my biggest problem with this album? I like freaking love it. It's the very core definition of forgettable pop-punk--predictable and safe, and every bone in my body wants to hate this band like it's my job. But it's still so incredibly goddamn catchy, I can't stop listening to it. Sigh.

* All of my cousins are getting married. Somewhere a clock is ticking...
Still, if you see them, tell 'em I said congratulations. Wish more than anything that I could have been there.

* His name is Tatt-chan, and his desk is next to mine. Er, I mean the dummy's desk is next to mine. Er, I mean the desk of the dummy wearing the yellow "Okayama" hat is next to mine. Tatt-chan, despite having given his plastic life for science, is still often cruelly vandalized by unruly students who stop by the teacher's room between classes.

I remember finishing Ren & Stimpy for Game Boy years and years ago. Upon hours of slaving; throwing and jumping, I was treated to their inspired ending: "Congratulations...you win...LOG!" That's right. Those lazy bastards gave me a picture of a log, for beating their shitty game. Nike is no different--I've got another uninspiring "log" for my monthly efforts. Sweet. If only I had a trophy case to display it in. Two days off, and then we're back at it tomorrow with a new goal.

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