Sunday, September 30, 2012

You Didn't Find That!

I walked into CD Alley in Chapel Hill at one point in 1997 as I often did, with an excess of free time, and very little money. Money was tight, but I needed new music. I scavenged the used vinyl and discs hoping for a gem that had slipped through the cracks, but this didn't feel like the time to give Bongwater a chance. Already a bit disappointed, I walked toward the exit only half-heartedly perusing the new releases.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Everything's Ruined

I put a lot of stock in autumn. It allows me to wryly curse the few surviving mosquitoes that always seem to single me out. The lawn waves me away and takes care of itself for the rest of the year. Holidays and the chance of snow start revving up and honestly, I just really like wearing hoodies and coats. And then there’s hockey…

Or not.

Dunch Drunk Love

Saturday, September 22, 2012

You're Doing It Wrong

In theory, Owen O'Donnell and Jimmy Guterman's book, “The Worst Rock-And-Roll Records of All Time: A Fan's Guide to the Stuff You Love to Hate”, sounded fascinating. As a fan of all things “hater-related”, I expected to see scathing indictments of beloved records that prompted never ending discussions with people who would only half hear me out. While some of the top 50 was bothersome at best,(The inclusion of Greatest Hits collections from America, Donovan, and Journey, respectively, all warranted double takes), there was certainly no outrage to be found.

Return of The Dunch

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Survivors and Liars: Two New Perspectives on 9/11

Jeramy recreates his reaction from 11 years ago with original newspaper and coffee cup. 

When I woke up on September 11, 2012, I checked my facebook news feed over coffee as I always do. After seeing multiple posts regarding the eleventh anniversary of the most horrific terrorist attack ever perpetrated on American soil, I thought to myself, “Ha. Looks like I forgot.” But I didn't. By sheer coincidence, I had watched not one, but two documentaries on the subject the night before. Coincidence may not be the right word, though. I've been at least mildly obsessed with 9/11 since it happened.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Sharing Means Bears

Sweet fixie, bear.

Let’s talk about bears, people. Let’s talk about the other evening when I came home from making my rounds as Raleigh’s most exclusive, sought after pet sitter and found a giant fucking bear in my front yard.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

The Best Of Both Worlds

Forbes pantomimes the legendary "Dual-Gender Shocker!"

Since coming out to my family and friends as a bisexual a year ago, I have always struggled with the meaning of the word: bisexual. Not the literal meaning of being sexually attracted to both males and females, but the huge gray area between gay and straight that bisexuals live in. To many, it doesn't matter how I label myself. You like guys equals you’re gay. It reminds me of a joke my dad told me: It doesn't matter what you do in your life. You could be a humanitarian, an astronaut, a war hero. But you fuck one goat…

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Doomed by the Living Dead

Four months from now, I will begin celebrating thirty years as a fan of the Heavy Metal music. It was in January of 1983 that, after becoming entranced by Judas Priest’s, “Screaming for Vengeance,” I heard Iron Maiden’s, “The Number of the Beast” on a crappy cassette dub, through inadequate headphones plugged into a Sony Walkman, in the electronics section of the Wal-Mart in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I was standing on the precipice of some vast new universe of sound and reality.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Tremendously Tepid

Give Me Talent Or Give Me Luck!!!

Armchair critics like to bandy about the terms “overrated” and “underrated” whimsically, and often without validity. It's always difficult to parse, given that we now are forced to share the same air with people who genuinely find “Call Me Maybe” substantive, and beyond reproach. It's not that those people are wrong. Stupid? Maybe. Vapid? Probably. But, not wrong. You can not tell someone that their response to an “artistic” expression that they connect with is flat out incorrect. You're essentially denouncing a key component of the human condition based solely on what you, as a person, find palatable.