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Eternal_Sodomy
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Name: Nakul
Country: United States
State: New York
Birthday: 9/9/1986
Gender: Male
Interests: Anything metal that isn't nu-metal (I HATE nu-metal). 60's/70's rock (I fuckin heart glam rock). Horror movies. I guess anything that can technically be considered "good music." Reading books that don't suck.
Expertise: Makin doody!
Message: message me
AIM:  SexySexyBoiToi
Member Since:
1/22/2004
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| "I was trying to do with the Sex Pistols what I had failed with the New
York Dolls." - Malcolm McLaren (former manager of both bands).
Fuck the Sex Pistols. They were merely a bastardized, more British version of the New York Dolls.
McLaren lived in New York in the mid-70's and managed the Dolls in the
final days of their existence. Their second album, Too Much Too Soon,
seemed to come and go with without any impact or recognition outside of
the early CBGB's/Max's Kansas City scene (at the time, anyway). Of
course this happened. It was a fantastic record which, unfortunately,
was promoted by drug-addled fuck-ups.
Their first album was just as good but, like the second, it was
mishandled and the Dolls had to take a step back after the
freak-accidental death of their drummer, Billy Murcia.
Anyway, while McLaren was the manager for the Dolls last tour, he
made them dress in red and play in front of a communist flag. He was
trying to inject politics in the music and raise its level of
"significance." The Dolls themselves were too uncomfortable with this
as they were taking part in an image they wanted no part of. It was
nothing more than a failed experiment on McLaren's part.
Fast forward to 1976 ---> McLaren returned to England and started
managing the Sex Pistols. Once again, he toyed with mixing music and
politics. In the pre-fame days of the Sex Pistols, McLaren almost
brought over Syl Sylvian (rhythm guitarist for the Dolls) and Richard
Hell (another New York punk, former member of Television and the
Heartbreakers). He didn't end up doing this but he dressed the Pistols
to look exactly like Hell (torn clothing and spiky hair) and gave
Pistols guitarist Steve Jones one of Sylvian's old guitars. Steve Jones
went on to rip off Sylvian right down to his moves.
Fucking lame. What really annoys me isn't the fact that the Sex Pistols
were a ripoff but they made TERRIBLE music. The New York bands before
them played the same style of rock and played it much better. But the
Pistols get all the credit because they started a fucking fad.
The only real punk scene ever was in New York (1973 - 1978). No one
fucking wore safety pins in their ears or sported stupid mohawks. The
point was to tear rock n' roll down it's very core and milk it for what
it was worth. There was something called artistic integrity. But this
was all demolished once the Pistols came along and put up this tough
guy front (because that's how they thought everyone in the New York
scene acted) and sold it to the masses (who, in turn, flatlined the
ideals - to play rock n' roll raw and nasty because it was beautiful -
of the original scene and tried to pigeonhole punk into a little
corner).
So what's the difference between the Sex Pistols and the New York
scene? Sex Pistols made garbage and they were all about shock value.
The New York bands bands made amazing, groundbreaking music that
catered to no particular style.
Punk's been dead since the birth of the Sex Pistols.
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| I'm finally in the mood to make Zangies.
As it turned out, the people at the law firm thought it best not to
hire me. It was a matter of confidentiality but it's still very
disappointing.
I'm spending tonight putting together a resume so that I can get a job
in the mail room at some corporate building. They're hiring and there's
a good chance I'll get the job. Not so bad.
So how was I killing time this past week. Let's see...
Monday - Thursday: I lay around in bed while listening to music or
playing Baldur's Gate II. On occasion, I moved into the living room to
play MVP Baseball.
Friday: Hung out with Nicole and watched the new Star Wars movie. As
excellent as it was, it did have it's faults. One of which was Ewan
McGregor's acting. It was a little shocking to see an actor of his
caliber give a lackluster performance in role of such importance but
the weaknesses were confined to a few isolated incidents and they
didn't have much of a negative impact on the overall outcome of the
film.
Saturday: It was wonderful because I actually had fun. That's something
I haven't done in months. Dale threw a small party at her house and
almost all the kool kids were there. But, in addition to the kool kids,
there were a couple of really scene girls there and they were pretty
dumb; fortunately, they stayed out of the way and weren't all that
annoying. And unlike last weekend, I actually managed to get drunk.
Pavement's albums create a nice sonic representation of the seasons for
me. Slanted & Enchanted is summer, Terror Twilight is winter, and
Crooked Rain is spring. What about autumn? I'd assign Brighten The
Corners to it but I'd rather pretend it doesn't exist. By no means is
it a bad album - it just isn't up to par.
I have three tickets to see LCD Soundsystem at Webster Hall on June
10th. I've really fallen in love with the "band" because, along with
the rest of the DFA crew, they've helped me appreciate and learn a lot
about dance music as well as electronica as a whole. I think John Avino
will be joining me for the show but the third ticket is still up for
grabs. So if you're interested in coming along, let me know.
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| I was sitting, stuck with a smelly lady and a snotty college professor,
in seat 25-A, near the far end of the thirty-row plane. The pilot
announced that we were about twenty-five minutes from touching ground.
This was fucking baffling because when I looked out my window, I didn't
see shit. It was all dark. But, suddenly, in about a split-second's
time, the mist blew itself away and I was hit hard by the lights of the
city. It was beautiful, really.
I fuckin love bein home.
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| Tonight's occurrences only confirmed the truth behind my thoughts prestented in the post below.
As you may or may not already know, the last two weeks of my life have
been very stressful: thinking about how I'm gonna end up moving out,
taking in everyone's suggestions (while avoiding being impolite or
ungrateful), trying to take care of the amount of work thrown at me
during finals week, among other things.
I'm not the kind of person who likes to ask others for favors but
sometimes it's necessary. I'd finally thought of a solution of how I
can move out without throwing all my shit away...
I asked Alan to drive me to the airport at Indianapolis and, on the
way, we'd stop by my cousin's house to store some stuff for the summer.
Sounds like a good plan, right?
Sort of...
Alan seemed to be okay with the idea. But he's obviously under plenty
of stress as he's driving quite a few other people as well (makes me
wonder...there are more than enough people with cars, so why does he
have to carry all the burden?). Alan would've liked an alternative to
driving me at the time he was supposed to.
As I was packing my things tonight, I got a call from Raj. I'm not sure
what he was getting out of all of it, but he was obviously using Alan's
situation as an excuse. He threw out a few ideas as to what should be
done - every one of them being just as inane as the other. I stayed
calm throughout, no real worries. As I started to explain my situation
all I could hear were quick, sarcatic "yeah's" from the other end. At
this point, being very annoyed, what did I do? "Fuck YOU Raj," and I
hung up.
A few minutes later, Alan and Jeremy came down to my room to help move
the stuff to car. Along with them came Raj, who was there to "help with
the fridge." Again, we started talking about how else we could get me
and my stuff to Indiapolis
Speaking out of turn, Raj mentioned that Alan should drop me off at
Indiapolis RIGHT NOW (right now being 11:30 pm...my flight didn't leave
until 3:30 pm the next day). I tried shrugging him off but he was being
unrelenting dick when it came to defending his argument and he insisted
it was a good idea because he'd done it before. This was not the kind
of shit I felt like listening to so I told him to fuck himself and I
threw - and missed - a ball of paper at him. In a desperate need to
display his machismo, he rushed at me and shoved me into my window. As
pissed as I was, I knew the gravity of the situation so I kept myself
from hitting him. Instead, all I did was kick him out of my room.
I could sympathize with Alan so I suggested we drop the shit off at my
cousins, in Indy, right now and I'd take a bus to the airport the next
day. Truthfully, I'd have been fine with that but Alan insisted we
stick with the original plan. And, as long as I'm not getting in the
way, I'm fine with it too.
I'm not someone who can hold a grudge against another for a long time.
Who was right and who was wrong? After a while it doesn't matter to me.
So, a few minutes later, I went up to Raj and apologized to him. He
didn't respond.
I waited a little longer and apologized to him again. He responded by
saying, "You didn't really piss me off anyway. If I was really mad, you
face would be totally fucked up" - or something to that
effect...actually it was probably something even less eloquent (and
that's saying a lot, considering the sophomoric qualities of what I
think he said), given his inability to formulate a coherent
sentence. So, basically, what he said was that he didn't give a
shit about me or take me seriously. It was a slap in the face. It stung
a little bit but I let it go; why make something worse than it already
is?
I'm gonna end this post here but I will say that his petty bullshit lasted the rest of the night.
Am I being bitchy? Of course. I'll always preach against being a dick,
but sometimes you just have to defend yourself. You're damn right I'm
doing some hardcore namedropping here but it,
definitely, is warranted. I'm very bitter at the whole situation and,
Raj, thank you for dropping this extremely unnecessary drama bomb.
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