No, no, I kid; it’s actually pretty nice outside. It’s pretty great to have the windows all open and the fresh air carrying all its allergens…mmm, pollen. No wonder I can’t breathe.
But anyway, I took this photo outside, because I really liked the shapes. And the random/automatic processing looks pretty cool and abstract. Definitely not my finest but I like it nonetheless.
100% free. Unless you really want to pay for them.
Sometimes I like to walk around Doylestown with my camera and take photos. I didn’t have my camera today, so instead I used my camera phone and the wonderful Hipstamatic. There’s something freeing about just pointing your phone and snapping some things, and just letting the software do all the fun stuff for you. It’s no substitute for my SLR and Photoshop, but it’s fun and interesting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
If you want to see some photos that I actually took a lot of time to work on, go to my other website, Brian Betteridge Photography. Those photos are just as bad as these.
Musically, I mean. First, I’ve really been loving the U2 Rose Bowl DVD thing. Don’t act so surprised. I have a problem, I know.
But otherwise, Animal Collective’s “In the Flowers” from their album Merriweather Post Pavilion is absolutely fantastic. The whole album is fantastic, but that song, extra-fantastic. It’s weird, experimental, electronic, droning and psychedelic (I’m pretty sure I hear “Blue Jay Way” in there somewhere…see, the Beatles are EVERYWHERE). It has a rich sonic wall that’s really complex and textured; if you turn the lights out, slap on some headphones and just listen to it, it’s amazing the little things you can hear in there. Give it a try.
Here’s a YouTube video for your viewing pleasure. It will make you feel high.
Amanda Palmer has released a 7 song, download-only EP of Radiohead covers. That in itself doesn’t sound too weird or anything; I’m a big fan of both Radiohead and The Dresden Dolls. But when you consider that it’s recorded using a ukulele it gets pretty crazy. Oh, but that’s not it. You can own this piece of groundbreaking ukuleleness for the whopping price of $.84. 84. Cents. For the whole thing! And it’s really good too!!! That’s when it gets ridiculous, and here at Pure Ridiculousness I’m all about anything ridiculous, including this attempt to say “ridiculous” as many time as I can in this ridiculous sentence.
Here’s a video I dug up. It’s not great but you can at least hear it. Or you can break the bank and splurge on the download. Check your sofa cushions.
Did I just make up a word? I think I did.
No, not that kind.
Last night I was sifting through some old Sex Pistols and Stooges videos on Youtube. Yeah, I do stuff like that sometimes. While I was going through the hundreds of results, I stumbled upon this:
It’s the Sex Pistols on David Letterman, in 1996 when they reunited (for the first time?) for a tour and some appearances. I love the Sex Pistols; they’re a unique brand of music that’s simultaneously musically energetic and painfully offensive, and shouldn’t be heard by 99% of the population. If you listen to Nevermind the Bollocks Johnny Rotten sounds like a decaying, sneering version of some sort of demon. He’s a voice I wouldn’t want to meet in an alleyway, or even a brightly-lit room while protected by ninjas (that might be an over the top description. I’m sorry.). If you see him in the some of those 1970s television appearances he looks like a good punk-rocker should, whatever that really is. Now, he looks like a clown and seems to be a little bit of a money/attention/fame whore. That’s very unpunk of you, Mr. Lydon. You’ve turned into a joke and a silly mime of what you used to be and your music suffers because of it.
On the other hand you have a guy like Mick Jagger, who, while some deride the Stones as a pack of old dinosaurs (which they are), I think has aged pretty gracefully. He’s 94 years old, still looks pretty good, takes good care of himself and has a classic look about him. He’s an elder statesman of rock and roll, having lived the lifestyle for all of his 103 years. Unlike John Lydon, he’s not trying to be the same rocker he was in 1974, or 1912, or 1889. Even while lacking a truly great release in the past decade or so, Jagger’s not hanging on by a thread trying to recreate his glory years of the early 1920s. Not bad for a 118 year old. Not bad at all.
To the point: John Lydon, get over yourself, you look ridiculous. What a joke.
I’d still go see The Sex Pistols if they came to Philly.
Because Mondays suck otherwise. Traffic was far less satanic than usual today. Maybe it will be a slightly better Monday than usual.
Kind of a lazy Sunday night, so I thought I’d take a photo. This is my guitar. It doesn’t have a name; I don’t call it “Shirley,” and I’ve never written songs about it. Or my truck. (I don’t actually have a truck, but a decidedly un-trucky Mazda. Close enough). For the guitar gearheads who probably aren’t reading this right now, it’s a Martin. Don’t get all excited, it’s not a super-fancy Martin that will one day be worth thousands and crazy folkies will pine for because of it’s vintage street cred. It’s a bottom of the barrel Martin, which on a bad day is better than most other guitars out there, in my opinion. But when you’re a poor college student slaving the summers away at Blockbuster Video, this is what you get. Pretty much the entirety of the summer of 2003 was spent working away, scraping together the money for that guitar. Oh, the memories. For the record, I’m not a very good guitar player. Granted, my playing is of overall higher quality than this blog (not saying much, I know). What I really want to do is become a luthier. If you don’t know what this is, look it up.
Ok, this entry is getting pretty useless, so I’ll stop.
…but I want one anyway.
And it’s not just because Bono’s wearing it, even though those who know me are aware that my love of U2 steps over the line into fanaticism, or obsession, of whatever you want to call it. It’s just cool.
Seriously, can you imagine walking down the street at night with one of those things? When I wasn’t getting beat up for looking ridiculous, people would definitely say things like “look at that guy,” “oh, that’s a cool jacket,” and “ow, that’s my eye.” I bet it’d be awesome at a rave.
Photo via U2Blog