teh jams

SLACK'D

Back in 2003, I was living at home, wearing purple eyeliner to my boring service industry job and spending most of my time collaging. I had a fresh driver's license and the thrill of rolling around in my mom's car at night listening to the Raveonettes and using her Hollywood Video rental card to check out Marlon Brando movies was unparalleled. The guy at the counter was a plump ginger with a long ponytail under his Hollywood Video-issued baseball hat who I suspected had a crush on me since I was the only teen coming in without my kid and buying the king size pack of jujufruits. I ignored his halting glances since I didn't really start talking to boys until I was about 20, even ones I had no interest in.
One day, I checked out Slacker, because the case looked weird and I had just recently discovered that I was cooler than anyone I knew, having been educated at a prep school in which my peers' interests ranged from the fall j. crew catalog to the spring j. crew catalog. I got home, popped in the VHS (earnestly) and got to work stenciling "London Calling" lyrics onto t-shirts I'd just picked up at the Gap on sale for $9.99.
Slacker was weird, I couldn't really make sense of the characters and the lack of plot line got lost in my intense stenciling session-- I later moved onto Bowie lyrics.
Eight (!!!!11) years later, my life is eerily (depressingly?) similar to that of my eighteen year old self. The only element that's different today from the scene described above is that I use my mom's Netflix account. And I know how to talk to boys now, but that's a different story entirely. Tonight as I was sitting around making record cover journals, feeling inexplicably attracted to Ted Nugent, I decided to scroll through the Netflix collection, and Slacker caught my eye once again.
The film that I watched tonight, of course, is the same as the VHS I rented a thousand beers ago, but oh how my perception of it has changed. What once seemed like dreamy esoterica has since become the soundtrack to my own life; the characters, once just that, are now people I have met over and over, comprising my own anchor to post-collegiate reality. While I was completely engrossed in the film and finding myself in conversation with these people, a thought entered into my head: Is this movie making fun of us? Is Richard Linklater looking at 20-somethings who sit around drinking beer, talking about their lives and the world, politics and their relationships, with their friends and roommates and strangers, and deeming it all a waste of time? The film is called Slacker. Is the film's thesis that we're aimless, rootless, wasting our time and our potential to fulfill that great American myth of "making something of ourselves"?

As anyone with a hundred thousand dollar degree in Why The World Sucks and a barista job to prove it knows, "Our Generation" is the topic of a thousand porch/bar/breakfast PBR 30-packs. The Oxford English Dictionary defines "slacker" as "a person regarded as one of a large group or generation of young people (especially in the early to mid 1990s) characterized by apathy, aimlessness, and lack of ambition". They may have to alter the era included in their definition. Is it not "Our Generation," the children of those hardworking model Americans, the baby boomers, that has been called out on a hilariously frequent number of occasions by the New York Times for being lazy, ego-driven, sext-crazed narcissists? Slackers, in the truest sense of the word? Intra-generational hand wringing abounds at the NYT as their op-ed columnists tell us to stay out of restaurants and save our money. In preparation for footing the bill for "Their Generation's" gross mistakes, of course.

Every conversation over porch beers at noon on a Tuesday illicits the same conclusion: we're not unmotivated, the ones pushing papers and paying their bills are. We're the ones who are looking for something more, the ones who refuse to settle for what we've been given. We're taking the path of least resistance, fighting with ourselves and everyone else for answers instead of with the TV over Dancing With the Stars.


And it turns out Linklater agrees: “Slackers might look like the left-behinds of society, but they are actually one step ahead, rejecting most of society and the social hierarchy before it rejects them. The dictionary defines slackers as people who evade duties and responsibilities. A more modern notion would be people who are ultimately being responsible to themselves and not wasting their time in a realm of activity that has nothing to do with who they are or what they might be ultimately striving for.”



Slack on, "our generation."


also posted at l337blog.

causalties of the mechanized modern world, yallz

me: in lieu of of having self-respect and a positive impact on the world, I guess I'll just show off my tits and be rewarded for them. THANKS WORLD.

kelly: THANKS COLLEGE. Actually, if there's one thing I learned in college, it's that I should be rewarded for my tits. everyone in the world is a retard and making more money than me at being a retard.

habits of highly effective people.

10:20 am: Wake up. So. Tired.

11:40: Wake up again. Stumble downstairs with Franzen in hand. Put yesterday's coffee in microwave.

12:20 pm: Check email.

12:30: Scan idealist.org for jobs.

12:32: Think about updating resume.

12:33: Google image search "bruce springsteen jean vest." Brief scan reveals nothing other than the sad fact that Target sells denim vests. Then a photo of 80s era B. in a jean vest over a leather jacket. Not quite was I was hoping for.

12:36: Watch Nelly videos on youtube.

1:00: Catch up on google reader. Over a thousand unread items! I AM SO BUSY.

1:47: Read item about how some douche from Yale '09 just got a book deal, focusing on the immorality of his generation. Wish for the 83rd time since graduation that I never went to college.

2:17: Watch Daniel Radcliffe slide show. I would like to be the kind of friends with him that make out when drunk.

2:30: Wonder if I can sell the rights to my twitter account to NBC.

2:31: Realize I only retweet Michael Ian Black and Andrew WK's gems.

2:32: Gchat to multiple friends about Rihanna's haircut. Send all friends links to Nelly videos.

3:45: Go for a run. Plot strategy to become youtube sensation via ukulele covers of Nelly and Flo Rida whilst wearing low cut shirt. Pass boys college cross country team. CHRIST they just keep getting younger. Wonder if I could pass for 21, and if I should go for the reach around next time.

4:45: Get back, check email. Weekly shower.

5:00: Breakfast.

6:00: Stare at record collection. Momentary indecisiveness over whether to choose Bruce, Hall and Oates or ELO turns to excitement as a I realize I CAN LISTEN TO ALL OF THEM. Briefly wonder when someone will love me for my record collection rather than for my boobs and ill-tempered personality. Also realize that someone has my Joan Armatrading. And, that the riff in Bruce's "Badlands" off of Darkness on the Edge of Town is the closest to perfection we may ever confront in this world.

6:17: Stare at collage material. Succeed in making two cards and organizing old magazines chronologically. Thumb through photos from college, vaguely remember having a reason to live.

9:00: Dinner: popcorn and beer.

9:26: Second beer while double checking correct alphabetical order of records. Put on Jackson Browne's "Lawyers in Love," decide again that while embarrassingly 80s, it's underrated. Draw my own hand.

10:30: "Arrested Development" on Hulu, with almond milk hot chocolate and kahlua.

11:47: Wake up; Tobias is blue. Lol.

11:48: Check email to make sure no unflattering photos have been tagged on facebook.

11:53: Return to The Twenty-Seventh City; another day, another few chapters of Franzen.

just another tuesday evening.

Girls started tackling boys. People kibbitzed about the future of news, and the role of race in the arts. Someone cried, then proceeded to breakdance. Halloween candy was thrown into the air. Everyone was singing. It probably looked like some Ken Kesey-ian Acid Test.






[the awl]

&&&

I'm looking for a quiet revolution.

can't keep track of the days of the week

Just finished Please Kill Me again. Patti Smith-- greatest rock start of the 20th century? Maybe. Also, apparently heroin is bad for you.

this reminds me of really cool kids books that I used to love.

Just re-found Richard Lloyd's post-Television Alchemy from 1979, post-Television. So. Good.

this sounds way better than a ton of other things.

tits + brains = world domination.

Never trust anyone who describes him- or herself in 3 words.

Start a spectacle, make some noise, take off your pants and flail around-- you can't lose.

Set yourself on fire: SxSW

Hey friends. I was in Austin Texas last week for the week of insanity and Lonestar that is possibly the biggest music festival in the US, SXSW. 6th Street, the Bourbon Street of Austin, was flooded twenty four hours a day for a week with musicians, tattoos, free beer, cops and drunks and I barely went to bed before 6 am all week. Molly and I biked our way through the masses and along with a bunch of other radasses from OKC and Philly definitely achieved our dual goals of experiencing something real and having a good time all the time.

I know this event is criminally underreported so I thought I'd write about it on my weblog. So to recap, here were some highlights of the madness:

Checked out Sleepy Sun's Thursday afternoon show and suddenly wasn't bummed anymore about not being in San Francisco in 1969 cause it was right in front of me. They do NOT half-ass their commitment to sixties psychedilia and anybody who is that into their trip gets snaps from me. They brought out the Austin Children's Choir who rocked the tent AND they did a cover of the Guess Who's "No Sugar Tonight/ New Mother Nature," an epochal song of its era. The singer sounded EXACTLY like Burton Cummings too, for an added bonus. I was in heaven. Here's kind of what the show was like:



This is exactly what America should be in 2010. Love it. We also started a butt-touching contest in the middle of 6th street. The Sleepy Sun tent was full of olds who we later realized were parents of the children's choir. Some of the dads left pretty excited, as did a cop and multiple other passersby (I totally lost but did get some Abercrombie-with-girlfriend-next-to-him butt, which has gotta count for something.)

Whqles played at a friend's houseparty and although their name looks like a t9 typo, they were great. (hey Whqles, if you're reading this, Molly and I were the ones sitting in front of your set-up and snapping our necks). I haven't stopped listening to their EP even though it's only about 10 minutes long. Check out their space for more. Recommedations: "Sum of All Evils pt 2" and "JG," a cover of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy." And this video is kind of what their live show was like-- full of glow in the dark paint, fast, loud and impossible not to like. I have no idea what's going on in LA and never cared but now I'm curious.


Another great was seeing Mariachi El Bronx at Mess With Texas. (LA hardcore band's The Bronx mariachi side project). They put on a tight set and showed some love to the crowd.




We (thirteen people piled into a five seater with a trunk) also tried to go to a party at the UT co-ops that Andrew WK was headlining and was sure to guarantee trancendence over space and time. But instead of understanding how "to create a dynamic so that we can appreciate beauty and joy and pleasure" (seriously, read that interview linked above. it will change your life), our only lesson learned was not to show up to a party that Andrew WK is playing at 2 am (40s and facepaint got in the way, as usual). The only time I've seen more humans in one place crawling up and down stairs and around railings is between at-bats at Fenway Park when the Yankees are in town (try using a sports metaphor today!). All I could think of was a bunch of people had sex in the 80s and this is what happened. Apparently AWK did show up to play a set at 5 am. Next time, bro.

DID get to see Woods at the Magic Hat party (woooot VT) on the Lawn of the French Legation. One of my faves since their 2006 album How to Survive in the Woods, they did not dissapoint. I only wish that their set was longer and that they played "Military Madness", but then I would have been crying all over myself and the lawn.

Lone Star was the unofficial sponsor of the experience and I'm pretty sure it's since replaced most of my blood. We spent a lot of time at Shangri La, the bar that Bill Murray ended up bartending at, but missed it. I think I can still die without regret.

We ALSO ended up at some party in "the hills" (I think every city not on the east coast has a super exclusive neighborhood full of Range Rovers called "the hills") completely full of tweens on spring break and two untapped kegs. Needless to say the kegs were emptied before we left and a few packages of fruit snacks were missing. Also, lower back tats [I hate the term "tramp stamp"] are still popular?

Speaking of tweens and unintentional hilarity, Molly and I also worked the Keep A Breast table at the Alternative Press show. It's an awesome organization that educates teens about prevention and early detection of breast cancer, and middle- and high-school kids across America are now wearing "I <3> boobies" bracelets and t-shirts. The org is endorsed and promoted by Circa Survive (I am happily older than 12 and have no idea who this band is), Angels and Airwaves and a bunch of other huge acts of a genre (post-dashboard screamo tweencore?) that no one born after 1992 could understand. We met about 600 people that looked like variations of this:

Like all things that make life worth showing up for, it was horrific and hilarious at the same time. And quite possibly the best form of birth control I've encountered yet.

We also checked out some metal at Primo's, a bar in a formerly Mexican neighborhood (weird, an American city is having problems with gentrification?), which I don't really "get." Don't know if it's because I'm a girl or because I wasn't super alienated in high school. Either way, it's kind of a bummer. I wish I could get into metal. It's one of my resolutions for 2010.

Also, does your city have a magazine that is primarily concerned with squids, jorts, beards and beers? I didn't think so, which is why you need to check out Misprint Magazine. On its agenda is ending live music in Austin. Zany fun for the whole family. If they're all jaded drunks. (And whose family isn't?)

The moral of SXSW story is: forget standing in line for 4 hours to see She and Him. Get on a bike, grab some free beers and jump into a bar, venue or house party just to see what's going on. They might not suck.

ALSO every town in America should have taco trucks.