Friday, February 29, 2008

What a Beautiful Feeling

I just ate my first ever green pepper that I actually enjoyed. This is monumental. I have always hated all peppers--green, red, yellow, chartruse--with a fiery passion that burns somewhere deep in my large intestine. But tonight's was delicious. Stuffed with herbs, spices, and topped with a mango chutney sauce. Let's party.

Like of the Day: Green Lake Pitch-'n-Putt

Dislike of the Day: Honey Bucket

Song of the Day: Nolia Clap by Juvenile & The UTP Playas

Video of the Day: Mccrank gets fresh, Koston...doesn't.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

You Need a Drink

Actually let me rephrase that: I need a drink. I just played BC lottery's $2 "Crossword" scratch ticket and lost. If I would've gotten an "l" or and "e" I would have hundreds of thousands of dollars right now. Hundreds of thousands of Canadian dollars. So basically enough to buy a pack of Skittles. Oh, I am fortune's fool!

Like of the Day: Bottles of alcohol at the liquor store that come in gift boxes with complimentary glasses, smaller bottles of alcohol, mixers, etc.

Dislike of the Day: La Fortuna, Costa Rica

Song of the Day: Kids by MGMT.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Like of the Day: Herbal tea

Dislike of the Day: The fact that I drink herbal tea.

Song of the Day: Something Pretty by Patrick Park


Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Quote of the Day: "When Savannah power lifter Cheryl Ann Haworth tries to clean and jerk the equivalent of a white rhino, we (as Americans) will be obligated to pray for her success..." - "Boycott the Olympics, Save America" by Chuck Klosterman

Like of the Day: Minute Maid Orange Passion Fruit Guava

Hate of the Day: Twoonie

Song of the Day: On the Hood by Matt Mays

Picture of the Day:
Opening day trio at the Seattle Yacht Club

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Poetry Sundays

My Boyfriend

Where do I fit?
In your thunderous thighs
agape
they sit.

We were meant to be together
Cammy
and Christina
She's fat, you're funny, I'm cute.

This is how I reconcile
On a wobbly limb
I stand
My hand touches yours.

Take me back
Take her back
Take us back
Milner.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Never Bitter

Greetings from Victoria. After a 3-day jaunt in the States and a 2-night stint in Tofino I am back home in The Great White North. Canada. Polar Bears. Hockey. "Loonies."
It feels...decent.
To recap, Tofino was beautiful. We climbed islands of wind-blown trees and craggy rocks that jutted into the ocean like sentinels on the front line of a battle. In our cabin we played Cranium "Primo Edition," and I felt betrayed and confused after spelling the word "genealogy" wrong. How was I supposed to know it had an "a" instead of an "o?" Wouldn't you spell it "geneology," too? Fuck.
On the way out we overslept and tried to move our check-out time back, but the assholes at the resort wouldn't let us. Not even a measly half hour. So I retaliated in the only way I saw fit, stealing a few arm-fulls of firewood and mentally giving them the finger on the way out.
We also went surfing, which was interesting. I'm fucking terrible at surfing. It's amazingly difficult, and the thing about doing it this far north is this: it's fucking cold. It's hardly worth it. 85% of the people do it just so they can have the satisfaction of going straight from the frigid ocean into their hot tub.

After all this "unwinding" and mingling with my countrymen back home, I was eager to spend a Saturday doing absolutely nothing, save watch a few episodes of LOST. I wanted to sit on my bed with my computer on lap and be pandered to by Jack, Kate, and the rest of the crew, so I went to ABC.com, where I patiently waited for the the full episode player to launch. Except that it didn't launch. Instead, a black screen popped up that said, "Only viewers within the United States can watch these full episodes." And this is when I went insane.

Fuck you, ABC.com. I'm sorry I had the gall to venture an hour and-a-half north, but does that alone mean I will not be able enjoy online episodes of one of my favorite television programs? Do you mean to tell me that "Joe the Logger," just because he lives in Port Angeles and is a resident of The United States, can watch as much LOST as his saw-dust covered heart desires, even though I'm a good-hearted college graduate and he's a plaid-covered disaster that has done nothing in the past five years but dip tobacco and verbally abuse his wife? Are you fucking kidding me, ABC?
Besides ABC, I don't really know who else to blame. They certainly seem like the most obvious candidate, but maybe I should look closer to home. Maybe I should also blame the Canadian parliament for not lobbying harder to have this type of programming made available. Maybe the Prime Minister is one of the those people that has a "Kill Your Television" bumper sticker. It wouldn't surprise me.
But not knowing who to blame isn't even most distressing part. The most distressing part is that I have no idea what to do--no idea how to resolve this situation. I feel helpless and alone. I want to reach out to the cast members for condolence. "Help me, Jack," I want to say. "You would know what to do. You always know what to do. Remember when The Others held you captive? You never lost hope, Jack. You always knew you would be OK. And you, Kate, you can help me. Your skin is so soft and smooth and your green eyes so electrifying. Hold me in your arms and tell me everything is going to be fine. And I mustn't forget you, Claire. Your face looks like it was sculpted by angels and your sultry Australian accent makes me wish my plane had crashed, too. Oh, and I'm sorry about Charlie. He was a good man, Claire--a great man--but he's gone. Gone forever. You have to let him go. Why don't you come over to my campsite so I can comfort you? That's it. This way, Claire...

Anyway, as you can see I am rather distressed about this whole "Lost" thing. So please, if you or anyone you know has some suggestions for overcoming this problem, please email mwetzler@u.washington.edu. God bless.

-Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Cold December by Matt Costa

Shout-Outs to: Jesse Junck

Saturday, February 16, 2008

The Man Show

You can't tell me, ahhhh, the trouble's gone, before you reach the sky...
Find what you get there....
I just got back from driving my friend Carla to the ferry and listening to the song "Find What You Get" by Bang Gang. It is a glorious morning on a glorious day. The sun's shimmering rays alighted on the off-white decks of the ferries like whipperwills landing on a lake of lily pads. Beauty abounds.
Today is also the first day in 5 that I won't either be building or tearing down decks. That's right: building decks, tearing decks down. That's what I do now. It is my livelihood, my nirvana, my shangri-la...my calling. And do you know what? I don't hate it. In fact, I kind of like it. All that crap about the satisfaction you get from a hard days work and stepping back to admire what you've done holds true.

Still...my favorite part is lunch.

To realize what a monumental achievement this deck building business is, we should start with a small anecdote. Two weeks ago I came out of black-out to find myself in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies and whistfully humming the song "Criminal" by Fiona Apple. I had on an apron and vaguely remember saying to myself, "Golly, I wish the oven would pre-heat a little faster." I looked down, saw mitts on my hands, and I realized that something had gone horribly wrong. "Christ, what has happened to me?" I asked. Things were looking pretty grim.
But that has all changed since starting work as a carpenter/brute. Now, instead of smelling like baking powder and margarine, I reek of solvents and sawdust. After work I sit in the living room and look around idly, wondering whether or not random shit, like the coffee table, would shatter if I kicked it with my steel-toed boots.
I have become a man. A man's man.
This is a fairly groundbreaking achievement for me, becoming a man. After all, it is something that only comes along once in a lifetime, and after 24 years of checking in the mirror for hair in my armpits it is a welcome development. Who knew that all it took was a a little grit, being around a circular saw, and caulking a few joists? Who knew they sold testosterone at Lumber World? I certainly didn't. But then again, what do I know about anything?
I do know this: Building shit feels good. Working feels good. Getting off your ass feels good. And so what if I do bake a few cookies in my spare time? So what if "The Trouble with Love," by Kelly Clarkson, is in my Top 10 Favorite Songs? I built a fucking deck today.

-Boosh Clown


Apt comparison? Mesolithic Man may have been handy with the
stones, but he ain't got nothin' on these joists.


Song of the Day: "The Trouble with Love" - Kelly Clarkson

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Move Over, Donald Trump

Greetings from a blustery day here in the Great White North aka Victoria, Canada. The weather here has been sub-par as of late. Gusts of wind regularly reach 40 mph and a pelting rain seems to saturate everything to the bone. Oh, sorry, did I says gusts of wind of 40 mph just now? I meant to say gusts of wind of 62.324 kilometers per hour. They're on the metric system here.
I hate myself.
What other exciting things are going on in the life of Mark Wetzler right now? This is a question that has undoubtedly been burning in your minds like a soddering iron in fresh lead. Well, baby birds, I shall feed you. Tomorrow I begin training in my new job as an illegal deli worker. You read correctly. I am going to work at a Portuguese deli about two blocks from my house for a guy that has agreed to take on an American without a work permit. It seems the day I have been awaiting for 24 long years has finally come. Tomorrow, I will enter the fast-paced and dynamic world of produce. Praise Allah.
Other Mark Wetzler related news include a surplus of long walks, in which I usually stroll the grassy knolls of Beacon Hill Park and observe the ducks and peacocks that frequent its abundance of ponds and meadows. Then, if I'm feeling particularly daring, I make my way downtown and read a book at Chapters, Canada's version of Barnes and Noble, for a little sit-in-the-comfy-chairs reading time. After that, if there's time, I like to stop by London Drugs and pick up some candy for the walk home. I usually choose Swedish Berries, which are Canada's equivalent to Swedish Fish. Then I amble home slowly and reflect on the day's achievements, the phrase, "too much excitement" usually filling my mind.
So those are some of the current happenings in my life. Last night I drank a liter of Grower's Grapefruit Cider and about three shots of Sambuca and felt ready to take on the world. Today I am lounging around in sweatpants, afraid to even leave the house.
It might be time to get a real job.

-Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangster by The Ghetto Boys

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Young Dro is the new Dr. Phil

The song "Shoulder Lean feat. TI" was the break-away hit off Young Dro's sophomore album, "Best Thang Smokin'." In 2006 it claimed the 10th position on the U.S Billboard Top 100 and eventually reached number one on the list "U.S. Hot Rap Tracks." The song, an uncompromising medley of floor-thumping beats, catchy rhymes, and cryptic drug references, showcases the "Shoulder Lean," an innovative dance technique characterized by the dancer rhythmically dipping, or "leaning" his/her shoulders.
I have been mildly obsessed with this song for about a year, a long-lasting affinity I now wish to commemorate with a close reading of the song, whose format will be based on the readings of poetry I did last year for English 111. Although I have previously reviewed the lyrics online, I will not look at them today chiefly because I want my interpretation of this song to be as much sonically driven as it is literary. Instead, I will simply listen to the 4 minute and 20 second (!) track on repeat with one shoulder leaned, something I feel the 28 year-old Dro, whose real name is D'Juan Hart, would be proud of.
The song starts off with the chorus and the words, "Let me see you bounce right and left and let your shoulder lean." These are the words that will quickly become the unifying theme of the song. They are the body, the heart, and the soul. They express Young Dro's inner desire to see all those around him having a good time, moving their bodies from right to left, one shoulder cocked slightly lower than the next. It is a sentiment that will be repeated many times throughout the remainder of the song. Next, Mr. Dro says, "Get it right. Two step and let your shoulder lean," also part of the chorus and one that boasts a small but important change in lexicon. Hart is a perfectionist. "Get it right," he says, "I do not want you ill-performing the technique I have striven so hard to perfect" (paraphrase).
At 0:27 we get into verse one, which starts off with the emphatic declaration: "I'm Young Dro" (he's Young Dro).
"I'm clean in this bitch" (he's clean in this bitch).
"Now I'm fixin' to shoulder lean in this bitch" (It will only be a matter of time before he shoulder leans in this bitch).
As an audience, we must decipher what Young Dro means when he says, "this bitch," a seemingly vague denomination, but one that in this case must refer to Mr. Dro's present location, most likely a lowered vehicle, a dance hall, or a private residence.
Later in verse one Dro utters the seminal phrase, "I take breath, the opposite of Primatene Mist." Primatene Mist was an inhaler developed in the mid 80's by Wyeth Consumer Healthcare to combat the effects of bronchial asthma before it was taken off pharmacy shelves in an effort by the FDA to phase out all products containing chloroflourocarbon (CFC), a chemical known for its depletionary effects of the Earth's ozone layer. Ironically, Dro claims here to "take breath," a blatant murder reference, while seeming to think that Primatene Mist has an opposite "life-giving" effect. Had he researched the detrimental effects of the chloroflourocarbons contained in Primatene Mist before writing this lyric, Dro may have thought twice about using it as an analogy to reinforce his reputation as one who is adept at taking human lives, due the fact that the depletion of the ozone is something that threatens all of humankind, whereas Mr. Dro is a threat most likely confined to the Greater Atlanta area. This, of course, is a paradox that I am sure did not succeed in eluding Mr. Dro's attention for long, certainly causing much comic relief and guffawing on the part of the young rapper when finally brought to light.
Another notable part of verse one is the line, "Dro be watchin' Oprah, mag 9 up in the clip." This comes just after the line, "I ride 26 and let my 9 screen flip" which refers to the luxuries of Mr. Hart's automobile. While we know from the previous segment concerning Primatene Mist that Mr. Dro is a self-proclaimed assassin, it is still unsettling to see such a wholesome namesake (Oprah) contrasted with a known instrument of death (the Magnum .9mm). D'Juan Hart, as we can see here, exhibits a proclivity toward expression through contrast.
Verse one ends with the line, "I can shoulder lean, I don't know how to dance though." This, coming from Mr. Dro, is a rare display of humility. As a performer, he is expected to possess at least some semblance of competence in the field of corporal expression, one he clearly negates here. Could it be a cry for help? Perhaps Mr. Dro was particularly unsuccessful while attending a recent salsa lesson at the local co-op, or feels that his ability to "shoulder lean" has been unjustly relegated to a non-dance field. It is a line that certainly calls for much speculation.
After more description of his automobile's features and capabilities in the beginning of verse two ("Then I let my trunk beat"), Dro continues with the line, "Then I pimp a hoe, take that bitch to Berlin," a phrase that comes out of nowhere to describe both his situation with the opposite sex, and travel aspirations, highlighting the capital of Germany as a principal destination. While it would be difficult to extrapolate a concrete profile of Dro's feelings toward the female sex from only this song, I think we can adequately deduce that he does not hold them in the highest of esteem. But what, if anything, is he trying to say here? A generous transcription might allow for something like this: "Then I nicely ask a girl if she would like to accompany me to Berlin." But a more apt paraphrase would probably be, "Bitches ain't shit. I'm fucking horrible at geography."
Finally, in verse three, we are exposed to D'Juan Hart's inner demons. In the midst of all the car, drug, and assault references, he adds, almost as an afterthought, "Don't nobody live with my mom but a bunch of junkies." This is the crux of the entire song. Indeed, it may well have been the crux of Hart's entire childhood. It is an act similar to his previous confession of being a sub-par dancer, but much more broad-based in that it incorporates a less than favorable family situation in which his mother seems to be bombarded by "a bunch of junkies." The "junkies," in this case, could certainly be exactly as he describes them: junkies, but this could also be a euphemism for his brothers, sisters and/or his father. Mr. Dro may be bitter that his newfound image of power and wealth is mired by what he finds to be an unfair connection to hoodlums and drug abusers, and it is even possible that he lumps his mother into his category.
In conclusion, the song "Shoulder Lean feat. TI" by D'Juan Hart aka Young Dro is a lyrical refection of one rapper's struggle for self-identity in a world dominated by modified cars, marijuana, and female companions that possess a strange desire to be "travel-saavy." But above all, it is an upbeat portrait of the foot-loose and fancy free life in urban Georgia, where Young Dro lives, thrives, and above all, "lets his shoulder lean."

-Boosh Clown