M is for Myg

Live your god damned dream

Archive for May, 2008

Are Animals Human?

Are animals human? Is the Pope Catholic?

Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer, eh Esteban? No, seriously, go take a look in the mirror. A good look. I’ll wait here.

Back already? Did you see it? I mean, first of all, that wasn’t you in the mirror–you realize that by now, don’t you? But did you see it? The ape, or whatever it was, flickering there in your dented brow? The nostrils? What happened to your sense of smell? Remember how it was, and you peeled a banana with your feet? Jesus. It wasn’t you in the mirror mostly because you have no idea who you are, much less about the animals in there padding softly through the fallen pine needles of the forest floor. Bite you!

I’m not being insulting. Everything that I say to you applies to me, maybe even more so. This isn’t some epistemological improvisation; this is real life, and I know better than most that anyone I see in the mirror is a fantasy, a made-up thing I use to get around in and buy the groceries without going crazy, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. Rowr!

My mother–I don’t talk about her much–taught me about the animals, how before it was clear that the jaguar was a person, and the rabbit. She’d learned it from her grandmother before her parents took her to Cuba for the revolution. “Esteban,” she said to me, when I had drawn her picture, “Este, que ves, engaño colorido, que del arte ostentando los primores, con falsos silogismos de colores es cauteloso engaño del sentido.” It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but now it is clear like a mountain lake.

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paws: Peer Infinity

Hear the true funk every Friday at -=Clockwork=- from 7-8 (ish)!

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The Secret to Everything

You know me. I am Charles Montagu, first Earl of Halifax. My father cut sugar cane in Hawai’i. That was a long time ago. I wrote poetry. I invented the helicopter. I exploded into microscopic fragments at the Piggly Wiggly. You were in the next aisle, and I believe our atoms became mixed.

Take a look at what you’re buying. It grows on a tree, and beneath the tree the grass grows verdant in the splendor of the morning. The workers load the cart. What’s next? The packaging is beautiful! Boxes and boxes and boxes! Open the boxes! Inside the boxes are my remnants: guar gum, high furctose corn syrup, palm oil. All these things you know. Remember how you came here? You took the highway. You stepped on the breaks. At the stoplight, you looked over: there I was in my little Focus. I smiled and you rolled down the window.

“Hello!” I said, but the music was too loud. The light changed. Off we went. Ever since, you’ve been wondering what that song was. Google gives you nothing.

Here’s what that thing about the atoms means: I am you and you are me. That’s the secret to everything. Because when I pour sugar on my Froot Loops, it’s you who comes dancing through the twinkling stars, just like on TV. You made me a sandwich with Hellmann’s mayonnaise. You flew above the clouds. You came tumbling into my consciousness just to hear that one goddamned song.

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 16 May 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Ju-Par Universal Orchestra: Funky Music
Stretch: Why Did You Do It
Moon People: Hippy-Skippy Moon Stomp
Zalatnay Sarolta: Egyszer
Breakestra: Don’t Need A Dance
Glen Anthony Henry: Fired Up
Funkatized: Monster Funk
DJ Soup: Where’s the Spoon?
Resin Dogs: Thunder
The Triumphs: Burnt Biscuits
Ripple: I Don’t Know What It Is, But It Sure Is Funky
Betty Wright: If You Ain’t Got It
Eric and the Vikings: Get Off The Streets, Y’all
Bernard Purdie: Cold Sweat
Gangsters: Smoke
Charles Wright & The 103rd Watts Street Rythm Band: Fried Okra
James Brown with the Louie Bellson Orchestra, Oliver Nelson, Conducting: September Song
Carla Thomas: Any Day Now

Hear the true funk every Friday at -=Clockwork=- from 7-8 (ish)!

3 comments

The Secret Life of Rock n Roll

Hey Kids! Don’t forget: every Monday from 7-9, Rock n Roll is reborn at ==Clockwork==. Old School. New School. Fuck School.

Here’s how it sounds:

Kill City | 12 May 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Joan Jett: Roadrunner
Elvis Costello & The Attractions: Radio, Radio
Suzi Quatro: The Wild One
The Muffs: Rock and Roll Girl
Tsunami Bomb: Russian Roulette
Bikini Kill: New Radio
Guitar Wolf: Let’s Kick Ass All Night
The Willowz: Ulcer Soul
The Dollyrots: Kick Me to the Curb
Riff Randells: Traitor Of The Heart
The White Stripes: Hello Operator
The Cramps: Can Your Pussy Do The Dog
The Rolling Stones: It’s Not Easy
Big Sugar: Dear Mr. Fantasy
Magazine: Shot By Both Sides
The Boys: Living In The City
X-Ray Spex: I Am A Poseur
The Vibrators: Automatic Lover
Elastica: Stutter
Huggy Bear: Her Jazz
Go Betty Go: It’s Too Bad
The Riverboat Gamblers: The Art Of Getting Fucked Over
The Dirtbombs: I Hear Sirens
Alkaline Trio: Cringe
A.F.I.: I Wanna Get A Mohawk (But Mom Won’t Let Me Get One)
The Explosion: No Revolution
The Adicts: Viva La Revolution
Naked Raygun: Home of the Brave
Adolescents: Guns Of September
The Generators: Suspect
Flipper: Sad But True
The Distillers: Young Girl
Alien Sex Fiend: Attack !!!!!!#2 (Album)
Thee Michelle Gun Elephant: Satanic Boom Boom Head
The Revolvers: Rock’N’Roll Babylon
The Eyeliners: Do Anything You Wanna Do
Eater: Sweet Jane (Album)
The Drowners: While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Billy Bragg: That’s Entertainment
Kati Mac: Dear Prudence

6 comments

The Secret Life of Esteban Moody


the new dance floor at Clockwork

Let me tell you a secret. Are you ready? The secret is this: you’re not who you say you are. You’re a secret agent. You’re in disguise. You have a secret mission.

Remember that night in Monaco when you almost ran me over in your Veyron? You were with a strange man. What was in that envelope? Did you think my feelings were hurt when you pretended not to know me?

I know what you’ll say: that your little cat-and-mouse games are for the good of humankind. That jelly doughnut is a radio transmitter. They implanted cyanide capsules in your teeth. Your cybernetic eyes give you x-ray vision. Your telephoto lens is really a gun and your gun is really a telephoto lens. If not for you, the earth’s core would have exploded last week, the population of Eastern Europe would have been wiped out by a brain-eating virus, and Fort Knox would have been blasted into space by a deranged ex-president.

Well, my friend, I will tell you another secret: I’m an agent, too — a double-agent — and my mission is to make you think you’re a secret agent. Yep, that’s right. That recruiting office in Moscow where you signed up? A front! Those filing cabinets were empty and that “mental aptitude test” was just a ruse (uh, not that your score was actually the “highest in recorded history,” either). That first “mission” in Caracas? A carefully orchestrated set-up: there was no atom bomb in Martín’s suitcase, no heroin in the soccer balls, no kidnapped US senator, and no zombie army controlled by an evil mastermind — just local university students who thought they were extras in a horror film. And, no, you didn’t stop the planet from exploding, invent a cure for a brain-eating virus, or defuse any giant rocket-blasters on Fort Knox. I’m sorry.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, like I said, I’m a double-agent. The forces who employ me wanted you distracted, and then your ego crushed when you realized none of it was real. You’d have become a babbling idiot, no one would believe your crazy stories, and you’d spend the rest of your life in a straightjacket. Not a bad plan, actually. My employers think you’re dangerous.

But what’s really been happening? Sure, it’s all been fake, but the fact is that I’ve been training you to be the world’s most dangerous secret agent — and it’s worked. Every obstacle, every enemy, every false clue I’ve put in your path? You’ve brushed them aside with your steely aplomb. No, you didn’t stop the planet from exploding, but you would have if it had been going to.

I’m telling you because your training is over. Congratulations. I wish we had time for a party. The fact is that now that I’ve told you, I may not have much time. In fact, I hear someone coming up the stairs now: a lurching limp, the smell of Egyptian cigarettes. Don’t let me down, kid. Get out there — the world needs saving. It needs it bad. Go!

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Funk me, it’s Friday! | 28 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

James Brown: Nose Job
Freddie & The Kinfolk: Blabbermouth
Jesse Anderson: Mighty Mighty
Lefties Soul Connection: The Chank
The Pinker Tones: One of Them
Georges Deligny: Panique au salon (Grooveblaster remix)
Ingram: Get Your Stuff Off
Misterholmes & The Brotherhood: Thrift Store Find
Sonido Lasser Drakkar: Pontiac Firebird ’82
Underground Maniatikas: Lean Like A Chola
Amalgamated Funk Co.: I Wanna Take You Out
The Brothers Johnson: Come Together
Mad Dog & The Pups: Hep Squeeze (Party Time)
Main Source: Fakin the Funk
Orgone: No More Gravy
The Politicians: Love Machine (Instrumental)
Pacha Massive: Don’t Let Go
The Falcons: I Can’t Help It

7 comments

Stranger

stranger

I’ve been asleep so long and now I’m awake I don’t think my vision is quite right yet. I sort of remember what I look like, but when I look at myself this is all I can see. Who was I, again?

10 comments

Life at the speed of life

Hey I haven’t forgotten. I swear. It’s just a thing these days. I miss you and I miss this blog and all of it.

Alex’s last day of class forever is tomorrow.

Keep the light on for us.

love,

myg

7 comments

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