Naimul

It's been a long time since I last blogged on Jeff produced content. We've had asides, conceits, and even the occasional tangent, but most of my interaction with the wandyteeth community has been from secret or on a face to face base touch. I can't promise to bring blockbuster music, sports authority, technology...stuff, or even movie advice, but I can promise to promise nothing and leave myself open to trying help stitch together this woebegone community. I'm not even sure thats a word, but if someone corrects me it'll be a good step in the familial direction. Albeit a negative one. I can't keep Jeff S words out of here "epistemology" or even small difficult ones "bode" but I'll have a story or two that you'll probably enjoy. I'll recommend some reading, a song, a movie, and some new technology first. Read Cyrano De Bergerac by Edmond Rostand if you like anything about with and words and men with big noses and pointy swords. Listen to "I Gotcha" by Lupe Fiasco Featuring Pharell, when I find out how to upload songs I still might tell you to get his latest album Food & Liquor. Watch Before Sunrise, not because its a pretty romance movie but becuase it a really well made pretty romance movie. And, instead of technology, becuase its breaking news, Gerald Ford died today. He was born in Omaha, was accident prone, peaked with an appearance on the Simpsons, and passed away at the age of 93. Somewhere in his incredible life he was a boy scout, vice president to Nixon, President of the United States and later, spokesman for the boy scouts. I don't have enough material to produce a mix tape but we can all better ourselves by hunting down and reading some of his speeches. Rest in peice, Mr. President.

Since my first post I've been waiting for the tumultuous wave of entries to flood this site holy grail prophetic, mastadonic American penis in size, mountains of information and bloggish literature. Bloggish literature like what you fancy in words, nouns, and verbs, sans prepositions, completely replete with superstitions and volitions of daily and likely grail free activities. I decided as I stared into the starry expanse of my starfield screen saver late last night in recovery from delusional gastric rumbling nausea vomiting one horned whale virus that I wanted to blog about many things but ideas chase each other and that's what makes for prefect capers. We fantasize about the best culprits and thieves because the only reason detectives can draw us is so that we can learn the nature and pebbles of a mystery, not really how they unstitched them. Gum shoes wouldn't be real or necessary if not for necessity necessitated by the criminals who create them. Imagine Law and Order, the new founded (in me) six part drama, six, a numberal of the devil, with no sick special victims to unit. It would really be a utopian world where law and order are complacent in their lack of victimized savants and kitten deviants. House would dominate the airways of functional formulaic television.

Welcome, Bess, eventually, we need your rays of yellow butterfly light to rouse our unhearing ears of your call (in euphonic, undulating titillation) to stuff your hot pockets, if that will be your cause on this site, when it works, I asked jefferybasil if he would allow for sex toy advertisement and he said no. Either way you’ll be a fresh breath when you arrive so let me be the first to welcome you even though I’m probably the third.

I think it would be best to create a base surrounding an expectation or product before lavishing myself on dear readership with base assumptions. I won’t post a huge story here until you’re squinching in seats to see what comes next. I may put tidbits up though, rebreathers of ideas that come as fresh writing but have yet to be blossomed into full realization. Let’s start that soon. Until then, listen to the Decemberists' new album at once. The Crane Wife is the first wife I have put up with through full revolution in a long time. This is no time for double or even triple puns, they’re named after the Russian revolt yes, but conjure images of emotions, synæsthesia of the brain, of feelings felt in December, in all ranges from seasonal depressed to Nintendo 64 euphoric and you’ll find yourself with a great band name. Listen closely and you’ll see why. Because hearing is only half the truth; seeing is believing.

Have a picture. Before Karl S left, he helped me find and expression of hilarity for my love affair with words.

PS: I got an email from a man with hair like a pony:

Dear Naimul,

I'm writing to you from New Orleans, where tomorrow I will announce that I am a candidate for president of the United States.

Love,

John Edwards

I’ve got bloggers block. It isn’t one of those Apple cubes or anything either, it’s a metaphysical manifestation of my desire to write about an assortment of ideas to keep with a legitimate thread of consistency but not finding the applications or ideas to create an entry of them. I’m going to make this easy on you. You can either hear about thoughts and ideas or you can petition me for a topic. I’m sure I could make an opinion about something if pushed enough. User submitted content and the ease of its production is the ballast water of the future, as you can see in the newest installment of www.ilikenicethings.com. Postnet is…crazy. I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a black hole, throwing stuff in, wondering where it goes, knowing its probably obliterated and sent through time at break neck speeds and pressures till it collapses into infinity, the worst place on earth. I can only imagine there is a speck of other universe or quantum leap deep inside flinching as junky posts of probing logorrhea seep inwards.

Pitchfork released their top 50 albums and top 100 tracks of 2006 lists and I can tell you, it’s a pretty good place to start if you’re looking for interesting new music. Some of it sent me back in time a bit (via tonal vertigos) to an age when I read a lot. I used to read shelves and shelves of books mostly about other smart children: Encyclopedia Brown, The Great Brain, Homer Price, and the ever imperceptibly homosexual Samwise Gamgee. I think kid’s books are the most powerful literature in the world because at an early age they help our formative thoughts and at a seminal stage everything is foundation. Ideas and creativity stem from something and the vivid microcosm of a young novel is a great place to play if you’re eased into it by lulling, gradual fantasy. It’s the great factor of Harry Potter but I’ll need to detail you more with that later. So in writing, the little tractor plans slowly tug away a heft blogblock and gives me precedent for progressive process. I built something by building something else. So the music of one hundred great artists can pull me back. A lot of mayhem frolicked back in the early days and it’s tottering now in rapidly expanding notes and rhythms. The new music somehow resurrected my iPod from a persistent frowny face; weird how it can break, get plugged in and stay broken, but at the moment of apex in The Knife’s Silent Shout brighten a forgotten corner of my room with shining stylized apples and blinking aversions. I think I can listen to it again, full revolution.