Archive | May, 2014

OKCupid Opener of the Day: Rush

29 May
image stolen from musicblogfunpartytime.wordpress.com

image stolen from musicblogfunpartytime.wordpress.com

Let me pitch you an idea.
We’ve set a date.  Your doorbell rings. It’s me.  I am dressed nicely. Perhaps holding a bouquet.  Peonies– nothing too suggestive.  You approve of my shoes.  You’re like “Hi!”  And I’m like:
(BEGINS BEATBOXING “TOM SAWYER” AT INCREDIBLE VOLUME, ROCKING OUT LIKE AN ASTEROID IS ABOUT TO HIT THE EARTH AND PERFECTLY– I MEAN *PERFECTLY*– PANTOMIMING NEIL PEART’S FILLS)
And you’re like “wow, that’s pretty impressive! Would you like to come i–” and I’m like:
(VOCALS KICK IN AND I JUST GO OFF IN GEDDY LEE’S CANADIAN GRANNY VOICE “MODUHN DAY WARRIUH MEAN MEAN STRIIIIIIIIDE….” MEANWHILE I AM STILL PERFECTLY PANTOMIMING THE DRUMS)
And you’re like “holy shit, you’re really good at that, should we get goin–” and I’m like
(DUH NUH NUH NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH AND I JUST KEEP GOING THROUGH AN EXTENDED SYNTH SOLO AND ETC.  You get the idea.  Meanwhile the neighbors have come out and you’re maybe a little apprehensive but also, you can’t resist feeling the music in your bones.  Beginning to move.  Shake your head.  Dance in the only awkward way it is possible to dance to Rush.  When it finally ends you are exhausted.  Dripping with sweat.  Spent.  But changed. From this moment you will live each day as though it were you last.)
The song finishes.  I hand you the peonies.  Turn around and leave silently.

How about it.

Jonathan Livingston Dumbass

27 May

I was at the beach on Memorial Day. Just for a minute– I had to work. I’d asked my boss if we had the day off. He did not respond. This meant: what do you think. I’m sure he was infuriated. But I left the office to look at underage bikini tits.

A seagull had found a watermelon rind. He was trying to swallow it whole. Fifteen times he picked it up. Huge wedge that must have weighed a pound. Cocked his head back and did that neck shake they do to get food down their gullet. Finally he dropped it. Figured out that only the pink shit was good and began pecking. Right on, I thought. But he’d dropped it right where the waves were lapping the shore; it kept getting picked up and washed away. The water would move it into the path of another seagull. Seagull 1 would have to chase it. Fight for it. He was a tough fucker, and committed– he would always win. Nip at it for a second before the next wave.
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