Drey’s Top 10

Because of my fascination with lists, I’ve decided to start a little experiment. Rather than trying to enumarate my top favorite of any particular thing of all time, I will keep track of these things in real time, updating the lists as things change. This will be completely unscientific and subjective, based on mood and gut instinct.

Drey’s Top 10 Movies Seen in 2006

1. Brick
2. Inside Man
3. Day Watch
4. Night Watch
5. Howl’s Moving Castle
6. Cars
7. Mission Impossible 3
8. V for Vendetta
9. Layer Cake
10. Dirty Pretty Things

Beck

Just got back from the Beck concert downtown. Amaaaaaazing! The Kiva is such a great venue; there aren’t any bad seats. Don was there and we talked a bit. I remember when he was up on that stage last year for nationals.

When Beck hit the stage, the first thing I noticed was that the people projected on the screen behind the band weren’t people. They were marionettes. Marionettes dressed exactly like the band that were perfectly synchronized to them. At first I thought this was prerecorded and masterfully choreographed, but then I noticed that the puppeteers were actually at the back of the stage and there was a small puppet stage back there that was lit and set up just like the main stage. They were doing this live. They did it for the *entire* show. Whatever the band did, the marionettes did. It was so cool!

Beck played more songs tonight than several bands combined. It was like a Beck mix tape, the way he segued between songs without stopping, like a live crossfade, sometimes no more than a stanza. And when I thought he was done and he left the stage, he came back on not for an encore, but a whole other set. This happened twice. They had this schtick where the band takes a break to eat dinner, but they eat on stage, off to the side, while Beck does some mellow solo stuff. The puppets ate dinner too.

I would say the high point was when they showed a short film about the Beck puppets in Albuquerque. They must have shot and edited it that day. They had little skits from all around town. When Puppet Beck went into the Frontier the crowd lost it. We went nuts! A lot of bands will throw out little bones to the crowd, but this really made it feel like the concert was just for us.

And of course the encore was perfect: Loser followed by E-Pro. No other way to end it.

I’ve got one day to rest and then I go see INXS. And then Counting Crows on the 3rd!

Turn Up the Faders

I heard this song on Insomnia Radio and was crushed under its weight. I immediately sought out Nathan Asher’s site and demanded he provide a way for me to buy his album.

Listen and tremble.

Turn up the Faders
– Nathan Asher

Light strikes the suburbs in the summer,
Water trickles and runs down the faces of children,
Laughter echoes rising
As they slip between the sprinklers.
Faces eager for no reason,
Is it the season, is that it?
This used to be enough for me but now it isn’t,
I need some different entertainment.

So we take the A-Train into the city,
Stick seats shake at the station,
Pretty women’s footsteps drag them disappearing,
From the cave of the tunnel dragon,
Into the open high-rises, skyscrapers,
Street urchins come to siege us,
Corner preachers carry Jesus,
Like he carried the cross, toss leaflets.
All this misdirected lust,
All these, all these, all these people,
As dusk turns into evening,
We just get funneled to the clubs.

So come on turn up the faders,
Sooner or later bring the beat in,
I need it, I wanna feel lit,
Like a fetus feels the heartbeat
Of his mother when he’s sleeping,
Beating constantly,
You are encouraged to dance emphatically,
Manically, even desperately,
Cause who knows where this is heading?
I’m in the backroom, drunk,
The stars cut chunks out of the darkness.
It’s a portrait of the young artist,
As another target market,
Playing dumb in the club,
And using liquor as a tourniquet,
Lets succumb to our desires,
Or we’ll become just like our fathers,
Bang into each other
Until the lights smother us
And we go under.

Outside is a storm, it feels like a set,
It feels so unreal.

Turn up the faders,
Sooner or later bring the beat in,
I need it, I wanna feel it,
I’m in the bathroom, drunk,
The months cut chunks out of the summer,
Days get longer, minutes get faster,
I get older, the weather gets colder,
They might sleep out in the suburbs,
But not here, not here,
Come on turn up the faders,
Sooner or later bring the beat in,
I need it, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel it.

All my friends hold their glasses,
Roses by the stem,
Lean in like trees blown by wind in a garden,
Fall and play jester, at the feet of dark-eyed women,
Whose every hidden glance,
Holds a chance at new beginnings,
Here’s to all the new beginnings,
We never got back from.
Never go home,
Never go home,
Never go home alone.

Comments Disabled

So I get home and there is another anonymous comment that just about made me want to slit my wrists it made me so mad. So no more comments.

For whatever stupid reason, I opened myself up here and some people feel the need to be hateful and self-righteous in response, all the while hiding in the shadows. They’ll have to go bother someone else’s blog now.

When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw

At the end of the day, “sanity” just means that you agree with everyone else, you approve of the arbitrary status quo. But I don’t. It’s like being on a rollercoaster, that weird thrill of having the ground just fall away, the whole world drop like a spinning plate and you realize you’ve never been standing on it. The rational machine is whirring away, doing its job to make sense of the data. It churns out rational explanations, perfect bricks of logic coming off a conveyor belt. It will happily slit its wrists with Occam’s razor.

A few years ago a scar mysteriously appeared on my right arm. It was the rune Raidho, backwards. I showed this to people and they immediately began weaving incredible theories which they defended as a logical explanation. One friend explained that I must have gotten drunk some time back in college and as a gag one of my friends decided to carve the rune into my arm. I somehow forgot about it until I saw the scar almost a decade later. His mind recoiled at the thought of something just appearing from nowhere, which it had.

My therapist studied the scar very intently. I presented my theory about a demon leaving my body and he suggested that it left the scar as a mark of its passage. This seemed a more reasonable explanation than the drunk college night scenario.

The scar has been fading gradually over the years. Only the long back of the R is visible. What, don’t *your* scars disappear too?

So I don’t really have a use for your status quo. I shouldn’t have to apologize for the things I have witnessed, for the damage done to me. There should have been real help. Not the doctors trying to sell me some drug.

Ain’t no moral to this story at all

It’s a new world. The one where you didn’t die. But you still can’t see me. You can’t know who I am while you are alive. But it’s me that’s moving. The river can wash me away if I stand in the right place. I don’t have to do any of this any more. I can go. I thought that *I* was almost done, that *I* could go away. Now everything has changed. The world is still heading towards the grim meathook future, but its because everyone wants it to. There is no They who are getting away with it. It’s everyone who is in love with despair and complaining and worry. They are the ones taking this world away. Because it can change if you want it badly enough. I’ve seen it. It doesn’t have to be this way, but all the despair has such a strong gravitational pull, more and more paths are pulled through that one tunnel. I wish they could see it, the strands circling, the nodes where moments intersect, the path breaking away from the car crash, the path where the finger slides off the button.

And that’s how Tyler and I were able to have Fight Club every night of the week

I’m pleased to announce that House of Whack will be funded by the DEA, who settled out of court.

The incident has been reported to their internal affairs division, so some actual good might come out of it.

Don’t do drugs, kids!

Pattern

I sort of recreated the pattern from the dream below. The dark center wasn’t so thick. I think I’ve seen this pattern before, like a filter I used in Photoshop one time. It’s in Kai’s Power Tools. One of the filters was a little workshop that let you mutate shapes like you were looking at blood platelets in a microscope. That’s what it looked like.

Freakishly Realistic Dream

I always have the weirdest, most intense dreams when I wake up for a bit in the middle of the night and then try to go back asleep. I awoke at 4 and didn’t really get back to sleep until around 6 or so. What made this dream so realistic, I think, was the fact that I was dreaming inside of the dream and then woke up.

The dream inside the dream was a full-sensory, super realistic sexual dream. I really thought I was having sex. But then I woke up into this other dream where I was in a new apartment. I was really freaked out by the sex dream and was really disoriented. I kept seeing this strange pattern,a network of black, shattered lines against bright white. It is something I could probably make in Photoshop. In the dream, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and saw the pattern in the veins in my right eye. It was bloodshot, but just in one spot, like a blemish on my eye. Then the pattern glowed out of my chest, like there was a flashlight under my skin projecting it. It throbbed out of my forehead too. As I moved through the apartment, the pattern shone out from the dark corners. I looked out the window and tree branches against the moon formed the pattern. I went outside to get some air. I saw the pattern in the shrubs backlit by low lamps.


Back inside the apartment, I got hungry so went to check the fridge. It was loaded with food. Then I remembered that a bunch of people had been there earlier today while I was gone at work or school or whatever I did in the dream. I grabbed some pizza and began eating as I walked around the new apartment. It was actually a small house. The details of everything were so fleshed out. Two of the rooms looked like they were under construction, with piles of debris in the center. I heard something in another room, so I went to investigate. The floor was covered with mice and ants. My cats were flipping out, chasing the mice around. Three of the mice were balanced on each other’s shoulders, doing some kind of circus trick, when Kallista leapt at them, spinning in midair to grab the top one and run off with it. Moriarty was trying to swallow one whole. The scene was so incredible that I had to get a picture of it. I found my cell phone on the kitchen counter, but when I flipped it open, I realized it was someone else’s phone.

Then I remembered that I was sharing the house with someone else. The shadowy house suddenly grew light and began to populate itself with the family I was staying with. Eddie Cibrian, an actor from a movie I watched last night, walked in and began to chastize me for leaving the kitchen in such a messy state. All of his (I can’t remember the word for really fancy food) had grown a thick mold over it because I had left it out on the counter. I tried to explain that it had been the people here before and that I hadn’t had time to clean the house yet. Later I startled his wife who still wasn’t used to me living there. I kept referring to Eddie as “Russell,” his character on “Invasion.”

And that’s all I remember.

Anonymous Comments

Eventually I’ll have this disclaimer as a permanent message here on my blog:

If someone I don’t know (by posting as “Anonymous” or otherwise) posts a comment, it will get deleted. It won’t show up here. That’s because people who post anonymously are typically fucking cowards and I don’t have time for them. So if you are a coward or passive-aggressive or generally an asshole, please continue to post without identifying yourself.

Thanks!