Februarius the 4th,  2010

2:06 a.m.

Here is a poem that I composed in a fury:

A Scene Been Drinking

You wanna talk about death,
Show me a man, who,
On a hot day, got struck,
By a car, jetting cool air.

And as he lies there, sucking
His last gasps of the humid air,
He sees waves altering the paint
Of the car. The paint bleeding,
As he bleeds onto the tarmac.

That last vision, an impression
Of reality, forever made real,
By color that was never even there.

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August 26, 2009

2:18 a.m.

And now I’m drunk.

We are all fishing, that’s all. Yet, I think, some are better at it than others. Some person catches a bluegill and is satisfied and leaves the pond. Others catch a catfish or a bass. This catch pleases them immensely, and they trudge away. These are the good fishermen, or women: whatever the term may be. However, there are those that are not good. They are not good, because they are too persistent, you know. They keep fishing, and no matter what they catch, they incessantly believe that there is something better in that pond, even if there isn’t anything left but algae and driftwood. They fish to keep trying and wait for the moments to come. Here, my friends, is my drunken observation for the night. I think I am fishing too hard, pressing myself to catch that unreal catch.

Whatever the case may be, I am proud that there are those who read our humble attempt at a page. We attempt to be entertaining when we have the time. I believe that sometimes we succeed.

Yet, I would rather be a persistent fisherman than a bad one. That is a single undeniable truth of existence. It’s better to be a failing persistent bastard than one who settles for a bluegill. Perhaps, I will catch a thirty pound muskie tomorrow.

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August 15, 2009

8:41 a.m.

It’s early, and I’m groggy. On top of that, I have cinnamon buns without icing (which might as well be sex without Everybody Loves Raymond; wait, that doesn’t make sense).

I believe that your nation has reached a strange point where the biggest party in town is a town hall meeting discussing health care. I’ve been watching these debates lately, and I find it amazing how people can act with misinformation. Whether one agrees with the plan or not, it is always best to be armed with facts instead of hearsay. The “Death Panels” topic is a prime example. My…my, the hoaxes people can perpetuate. Even the major media can get involved. The Blue House Lives didn’t get involved, but then again, we are about as far from major media as one can get.

I must officially apologize to all of our loyal readers (all 4 of you) for the lack of updates lately. We have all been busy on myriad projects. I have personally been engaged in the writing process, but not for the publication. I have been trying to get some stuff together to gain entry into a suitable graduate school. Everyone wish me luck, please, although I have a few months to prepare. Let’s hope they don’t see this publication. It would be an instant death sentence like sleeping with Magic Johnson. Actually, I think he is healed now. Nonetheless, sex is bad, and one should always refrain…

Other than that, keep reading. The guys and I have been throwing around ideas for a new silent short film, and we hope to progress on it soon. Trust me; it will be better than The Milk Thief (not really). Also, thanks to everyone who leaves comments on this site. Please continue. And for those who have never left a comment: what the hell is wrong with you? We need your feedback like we need more milk (and we love strong bones…sexy joke there).

I guess it’s time to devour these cinnamon buns. Damn, I want some icing.

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August 4, 2009

1:31 a.m.

New music from Mozart was discovered this year, and only confirmed within the past few days,  in the archives at the International Mozareum Foundation. The pieces were believed to be written by Mozart between the ages of 7 or 8. To me, this is pretty amazing. The pieces were difficult to confirm since there was not an author’s signature on them. Yet, after stylistic and handwriting analsysis, the pieces were determined to be those of Mozart. I really enjoy the mystery that surrounds a piece of art that was lost for over several decades. It is similar to the state of many incomplete silent films. With that thought in mind, a new complete version of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis is slated to be released later this year.

Anyway, here is one of the Mozart pieces, known only as The Piano Piece in G (remember, he wrote this between the ages of 7 and 8):

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August 3, 2009

5:14 p.m.

I’m not really sure how I would personally judge the party from this past weekend. The publication has taken the firm position that it was a failure; and I like this move. A publication should take a success or failure stance, and The Blue House Lives did. I guess the party was closer to failure than success, but I doubt anyone would consider it a complete failure. I thought it was just okay with a few brief excitements. Goodbye parties are never easy, though. I merely hope Hilary enjoyed it.

Now, on to more important matters: The Blue House Lives will be venturing into news and politics. Now, don’t get me wrong, The Aurora will not be a substitute for The New York Times (none of us have that much time), but it will present politics with The Blue House’s attitude. We believe that our disposition can lend a lot of clarity to a topsy-turvy world (am I speaking of intention here?). Nonetheless, we hope to get The Aurora up and running by the end of the week. Also, the title, The Aurora, was an arbitrary decision; the title has meaning. Granted, none of our readers would perform to strenuous research to discover such a meaning, so, in the spirit of brotherhood, I’m not going to divulge. If you don’t want to find out, you will never know.

Yesterday also marked a triumph: the lowest number of hits on a single day since the publication started. Are we starting to grow stale? Well, there are more videos on the way this week, and considering the huge response from the first few, our hit-rate should rise. Whittler’s Meadow has also promised a new video…someday.

Other than that, keep reading and keep enjoying.

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July 28, 2009

11:13 p.m.

I find that the more I try to grow up or simply pretend to be grown, the unhappier I become. It is childish sensibility that makes me smile, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I know what kind of world we live in, and just putting this on the internet probably breaks laws, for I will be branded a pedophile, but this is not what I mean. I am happiest when I act with a childish sensibility. I find that I have been too serious as of late, and I seriously (odd word choice, I think) need to regain some sense of carelessness and innocence. The truth is, I just graduated college, and everyone now expects me to grow up, get serious, and settle down. I know this anxiety is cliché, but that does not make it unreal.

Now, enough of the slop, and on to the videos. Michael has approached me with an interest in getting his own subdivision to post videos. This proposition I am very excited about, for his videos never fail to entertain (even when they appear incomprehensible). If anyone knows Michael, they know he marches to his own drummer (to borrow another cliché), which may be the best thing someone can do. Andrew Jackson did it, and made the cover of the twenty (this statement probably brands me anti-Native American, as well, but I am tired to being politically correct (wow, even though I said Native American and not Indian). Nonetheless, this subdivision should be expected soon. I am wholly anticipating it. Duncan is also preparing us a visually appetizing introduction piece, of which I am also wholly anticipating.

Our fan club on Facebook has expanded to forty members (eat your heart out Scott Bayo), and I hope it keeps growing. We are beginning gain steam and run smoothly. However, the smoother we run, the more we experiment. The site should be getting more complex and more interesting as time passes.

If you don’t know me, then let me tell you that I am a big fan of the show Lost. If you do know me, you know how obsessed I am. Anyway, there have two promotional videos released regarding the final season. They both seem to give credit to the theory that everything was erased when the hydrogen bomb went off, for Oceanic claims that they have never had a crash, and Hurley learned a new chicken recipe in Australia. If you haven’t seen season 5, sorry for the spoilers. Nonetheless, here are the clips:

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July 27, 2009

1:33 p.m.

As I lounge and stare out the window, I’m always reminded about what great authors have said about the craft of writing. One author, whose name escapes me, said the only thing one needs to write is a room with a window. That always confused me, for how do you work without pen and paper.  Maybe he had long fingernails or something. Faulkner said that he only writes he is inspired, but he makes sure that he is inspired every morning at 9 a.m. Perhaps, that is the purpose of this publication. We (the staff) are all inspired in the silliest ways, and continue to work nonetheless. I am very satisfied with our progression.

Anyway, here’s a little poem I composed earlier today. I am well aware that I possess no talent for poetry, but writing it is, to me, like a rite of passage. So here it is, this poem for my dad:

The Garage

The garage is where my dad and I gather
And work on things all dads and sons do
This is the place where he really is my father
Giving timeless advice that’s always new.

Yet, I find myself staring around this cave
Where the lawnmower rests devoid of grass
The hard floor swept as clean as a holy nave
The entire space wholly clean of trash.

He says to me that bullfrogs have been there
Living on the crickets that chirp all night
He saw one last night and its glowing stare
My stepmom, wow, it gave her quite a fright.

He chased them off and out with a broom
But I began to think that they would return
And make a colony in a soon darkened tomb
And someday there would be nothing to learn.

The mower one day would be stained green
And the floor also would be caked with dust
There won’t be anyone here to make it clean
There won’t be anyone here I can trust.

How can I look at him at all now?
I know that this will all soon be changed
That he will go and take that final bow
And the entire garage will be rearranged.

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July 25, 2009

8:20 p.m.

Well, we (and by we I mean the entire staff) is about to go to a bonfire on the other side of the river. Everyone is clearly aware of the dangers that await us across the bridge. I do hope that we capture some pictures and come to grips with the degeneration that bonfires create. In other words, it is going to be a fantastic experience.

All day, I have had the theme song from Quantum of Solace (“Another Way to Die” by Alicia Keys and Jack White) stuck in my head. I’m not sure why, but I find this song to be as addicting as coffee to me. Yet, everyone that I discuss this with colleagues, disputes concerning the merit of the song arise, and they declare it mediocre at best. Perhaps, they are correct. Perhaps, I am only capable of having crap stuck in my head (talk about being shit for brains). Of course, however, I am listening to the song right now on my headphones (it’s part of the 12 step program to cure song addiction). I do agree that the song is not as addicting the Chris Cornell one from Casino Royale. Then again, Casino Royale was awesome.

Today, I thought about the election of 1832. 219-49 is quite a blowout, and I thought Barack won a landslide. That election (between President Jackson and Henry Clay, no less) was thought to be close going into the day of the vote. This is much like our most recent election, but come on, let’s face reality; did anyone ever really have any doubt as to who was going to prevail? I know I didn’t.

This week, the site will be updated comprehensively. We have a large amount of articles to post, including one about a certain late night host giving us a tacit shout-out. Also, we will be previewing the Blonde and Gone party. So, to everyone out there who owes their interesting lives to us, keep reading. It’s about to become far more interesting…

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July 25, 2009

11:47 a.m.

I awoke this morning with the nostalgic feeling that this publication did not exist. I carried this feeling with me throughout my routine: showering, breakfasting, caffenating. Eventually, I conceded and convinced myself that my colleagues and I had created this publication, but I refused to acknowledge any type of readership. Although, as my day progressed and I labored on the site a bit, I realized that we do have some readers. That convinced me that we have something here that people want to peruse and experience. Therefore, I drafted a farcical Declaration of Principles. In fact, I roughly modeled the idea after Charles Foster Kane’s similar declaration in Citizen Kane. You could call it a moment of self-serving importance.

Other than that, I hope soon to post some short stories and critiques (these will attempt to be funny, I promise) to accentuate our silly articles. The face idea behind this site is to satire the stories originating from our house, which I feel is a rich social and cultural environment. There is, however, a deeper intention that I will not (maybe never) elaborate upon.

Right now, I merely wish to state how impressed I am with the response from our readers. To that, I say thank you. You are the reason we publish what we do. If there are ever any suggestions or comments you would like us to see, please spit them out. We will do our best to continue to provide an entertaining site that one can spend more than a minute on.

Once again, to all our readers…thank you!