I strongly prefer The Daily Show to The Colbert Report. In fact, I don't really like Colbert that much. I mean, I don't dislike him, I just think he's greatly, ridiculously inferior to Jon Stewart. And even with The Daily Show, I don't really like the interview segment. I don't really like the interview segment with any show. Even when I was a religious Conan O'Brien watcher, I would mostly tune in for the monologue and the sketches. So it was that after the two noninterview segments of The Daily Show tonight, I started trolling around for other things to watch. I stumbled on a live performance by Nine Inch Nails.

Now, I was never the biggest NIN fan. In fact, I generally disliked them. Like, everyone loved "Perfect Drug," but I thought it was a really lame song. I just didn't get what was supposed to make it awesome. I mean, I like "Head Like a Hole" and "Closer," obviously, and "Hurt" is one of the best songs ever, and "A Warm Place" would be on the playlist I'd put on while killing myself, but NIN never did much for me beyond those and a few others. Still, live performances are generally awesome, so I decided to leave it on in the background while I did other things. And I came to a few conclusions.

First, Nine Inch Nails sorta sucks live. This is a combination of the fact that I didn't know and didn't get into most of the songs and the fact that I thought most of the music and performances were really uncompelling. It just didn't do anything for me.

Second, "Hurt" is a fucking amazing song.

Third, destroying instruments on stage is really, really, really stupid. I've always thought this, actually.

See, I've been a fourteen year old kid who would have done anything for an electric guitar. When that's what you are, there's nothing more excruciating than watching someone you look up to take a perfectly functional musical instrument and destroy it for no reason other than it's "cool." At the end of their set, one of the NIN guitarists took his Stratocaster and shoved it through the speakers in his ridiculously expensive Mesa/Boogie amp. Then he smashed it around a little more. Then he took the entire speaker cabinet and threw it and the guitar off the stage. And then the other guitarist smashed a mic stand with his guitar and then threw his guitar halfway across the stage. Then they all walked away. And, yeah, the feedback was cool. But at least two instruments and an amp got destroyed, and for what? Nothing.

I don't care how "cool" it is, destroying instruments like that is nothing other than wasteful. If you want to throw away thousands of dollars, fine, but why take an instrument that could have inspired the next Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton and destroy it, man?

I think it's lame and stupid and wasteful and borderline immoral.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Music Reviews , Philosophical Rants , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

So, as I said, tRJ and I are making a semiserious effort to start a band. By that I mean that we posted an ad on Craiglist looking for a drummer and a bassist. We got some responses, but haven't played with any of them because, well, they all suck.

First there was this drummer guy who said he was into what we were into. So we sent him a very rough demo of a song we worked on together. He wrote back that he thought he liked it and that he thought it would work really well as a funk song. I have no interest in ever playing a funk song ever. And, as far as I know, tRJ doesn't, either. In fact, I hope he doesn't because, if he does, he's out of the band.

Then there was a drummer and bassist who knew each other and had played in a band together before. The problem was that their previous band sucked the fat cock. Don't believe me? Check them out yourself. My favorite is "The 420 Song" which features such amazing lyrics as "I get high so I can feel, I get high so I can deal." But they said they didn't write the lyrics and they thought they were lame, anyway. So we e-mailed for a bit and then I never heard from them again.

Then there was this female bassist. Now, this got me really excited. See, some people want to lead a more Christ-like life, but what's really important to me is having a more Corgan-like band. As far as I know, none of Billy Corgan's bands have ever had a male bassist, so I was really excited about the female bassist. Plus then she could sing back up and it would be awesome. But the problem was that it quickly became obvious that she was in high school. That fucking sucks. I mean, I don't know that I'd even know how to talk to someone in high school, and how fucking awkward would it be to meet her family. "Hi, we're two guys in our late twenties. We promise we're not going to rape your daughter. Seriously, we swear." So she's out.

Then there was a drummer who sounded ok. So I called him up. And when I asked him if he could meet on a certain weekend, I just heard him scream "Daaaaaaaaaaaad?!?" I just about hung up the phone right then.

Seriously, people--why is it this hard to find a bassist and a drummer that aren't in high school, that don't like shittastic music, and that are willing to do whatever tRJ and I tell them to? Fucking a, how does anyone start a band ever?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit

Blah.

I went to sleep at about 11. Actually, about 8:30 if you count the time I spent with the TV playing reruns of The Next Generation while I slept on the couch. I have some sort of ear infection. It's not really painful but it's obnoxious and my hearing is all fucked up. And my throat still hurts. So it's not like I'm actually sick, but it's not pleasant, either.

Anyway, I was in and out of consciousness from about 8:30 till 11, at which point I decided to call it a night and went to bed. And now it's 4:45 am and I've been up for about an hour. There's a bunch of crap on my mind which is really stressing me out. I mean, I know that things will be OK, but I just can't make things stop running through my head, which is really obnoxious.

Oh, right. Good luck to everyone taking the bar exam. I spoke to a friend who was freaking out about it the other day, and, really, you shouldn't freak out. Here's what I was doing and thinking before, during, and after my exam. It's not the end of the world. And at least you're not this person.

Now let's see if I can get some more sleep.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 4:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

Here's an interesting question that came up last night--and when I say "came up," I mean "I brought up and then repeated over and over again." What is the highest number of orgasms you've ever had in one day?

As the title of this post suggests, mine is seventeen. In the past when I've told people this, they've reacted with shock and disbelief. I don't think it's that amazing--a bored fourteen-year-old boy with lots of time on his hands, a boring Saturday, and a free preview of Cinemax can do a lot good. Seventeen times, to be precise. I mean, once you break into the double digits, you gotta see how far you can get, right?

Anyway, I've met one other person in my life who claims to have matched my achievement. Have any of you?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Horribly Inappropriate Things I've Said

I heard about this on the radio a while ago but then forgot about it. Anyway, apparently Weezer decided that they wanted to do some shows where they would invite people to bring their instruments with them and play along with the band. At the time, I remember thinking it sounded cool but couldn't possibly work, and also that it would be fun to be there but that it would suck to watch. Well, I was wrong on both counts. Check out this version of "Say it Ain't So":

And this version of "El Scorcho":

I especially love the look on everyone's faces--they're all having so much fun. And I love that there's this sort of mix of boys and girls and band geeks and frat-looking douchebags. I just can't imagine how awesome it would be to have been there.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Music Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

Good luck, Mr. Vice.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Potentially Entirely Unhelpful Analogies

In a conversation with Co-SME, I just said this, which I thought was awesome:

Cynicism always trumps faith, and if it ever doesn't, marry that person.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Horribly Inappropriate Things I've Said

There will be spoilers here, so if you haven't seen The Dark Knight, you should probably stop reading.

So I've now seen The Dark Knight twice--once painfully alone and once with friends. And here's what I've got: it's obviously the best Batman movie ever. Anyone with any sort of lingering love for Tim Burton's Batman movies just has to accept that. It's also clearly the best superhero movie ever. This admission pains me, but it's just true. It's also the most awesome movie I've seen all summer and the best movie I can remember seeing this year or even in the past few years.

So, the thing about The Dark Knight that makes it hard to compare to pretty much every superhero movie that's come before is that it's so fucking much more than a superhero movie. Part of this is the character: unlike Spiderman or Superman, for example, Batman's just a dude. This inherently makes him more believable, and the action in The Dark Knight is some of the most believable action in any action movie I can think of. No one lifts a continent over their head, there's not a bus that makes a magic jump across an uncompleted highway, there's not even a ridiculously unbelievable fight scene. All of the fights happen exactly how I imagine real fights between a fucking unbelievably fit and well-trained fighter and a bunch of random thugs would actually go. Maybe you can't hang glide from one Hong Kong skyscraper to another using a batcape, but that's not so fucking out of the realm of possibility, you know?

But while the realism of the action is one of the things that makes The Dark Knight so fucking awesome, that realism is more important in that it fits into the overall realism of the whole movie. The Dark Knight has some of the most realistic characters in any movie I've seen in a long time. Ok, sure, it's hard to believe that some guy would actually devote his life to fighting crime in a batsuit, but once you swallow that pill, Batman comes across as a real fucking person. He's torn in a thousand different ways--rage, the need for revenge, the love of a woman, the need to protect Gotham City, the desire for a normal life. Oh, and he's probably batshit crazy, too. All of the characters are believable in that you can understand both how they got where they are and why they want to go where they want to go. When Harvey Dent loses his shit and becomes Two-Face, we get why. Maybe it's not what I would do, but then I've never been where he was.

The exception to that rule, of course, is The Joker. Everyone's talking about how awesome Heath Ledger is as The Joker, and I wasn't really buying the hype. But the fact of the matter is that the performance is fucking amazing. The Joker is fucking scary. The calm, collected craziness is really, really unnerving. The casual way in which he kills and tortures is fucking chilling. Even the way he talks suggests a man who is both all there and completely gone. And the few scenes between Batman and The Joker--especially the one in the interrogation room, which is one of my favorites--are just fucking amazing. I don't know what one has to do to deserve an Oscar, but I wouldn't be pissed if Heath Ledger got at least a nomination. And I'd feel the same way if he was still alive.

And, of course, what ties it all together is the plot. Basically, Batman, together with Harvey Dent and Jim Gordon, are trying to take down the whole fucking mob. The mob freaks out and "hires" The Joker, and the whole fucking thing gets crazy from there. But that's all set up for what's really going on: The Joker wants to watch the world burn. Or at least he wants to wreak as much havoc as he possibly can. And he does a fucking bang-up job. The movie is fucking dark.

One of the things that made Spiderman 2 great was the fact that things really sucked for Peter Parker on pretty much all fronts. But even then, things got better by the end. That's not the case here. There is a constant sense of tension and apprehension--something bad is always about to happen. Most of the time, Batman manages to avoid the bad things. But sometimes--and especially in the case of Rachael Dawes--he fails. The fact that they actually killed the romantic lead tells you just how different this movie is. The first time I saw it, I expected her to be saved at the last second somehow--I sort of expected that they wouldn't have the balls to actually kill her. Then the building exploded and she fucking died. And it was sad, but also awesome.

That darkness and tension never really let up, either. No sooner does Batman beat one obstacle than The Joker sets up four more. And in the end, while Batman survives and the villains lose, you can't really say that Batman won. In fact, Batman took one for the team like a motherfucker. It's not a happy ending, but it's exactly the ending the movie needed, and the fact that the writers came up with it suggests that they really, really understood the fucking character.

There's really no way I could say too many good things about this movie. It would be stupid to compare this movie to pretty much any other movie with guys in tights, and it does a lot to show just how overrated Ironman was. God, that thing was wretched compared to this. The Dark Knight really does go beyond its genre and deliver something genuinely good not just as frivolous popcorn entertainment but as, you know, cinema and stuff.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Movie Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

My friends and I are going to see The Dark Knight tonight. There had been some discussion about going to a midnight showing, but we never did anything about it and then assumed that all the screenings were going to be sold out. And, besides, we've all got responsibilities and jobs and stuff.

Well, as it turns out, I don't have to be in court tomorrow and I'm not meeting any clients. I've got stuff I have to do, sure, but I don't have to be up at any specific time. That left me wondering what I was going to do tonight. And then I got an IM from C-SME that would change the course of my evening, but not necessarily for the best.

See, Co-SME discovered a midnight showing of The Dark Knight that was not sold out. "Buy two tickets!" I told him, and he did. But then he was all "Oh, wait, I might not be able to come." See, Co-SME has certain responsibilities which, to be fair, are significant and not easily thrown aside. So I started looking around to see if anyone else--specifically Mr. Vice of pH--wanted to come with me, since I now had two tickets. After a fair amount of ridiculousness, pH decided she'd come if Co-SME couldn't. Cool.

But then Co-SME decided that he could, in fact, make it. Jesus, fine. But now there was a new problem: there was some doubt as to whether the showing we were supposed to see was even going to happen, and Co-SME was entirely unable to find any information on the internet or through the phone. The theatre where we were going to see the movie, however, is relatively close to my apartment, so I drove down to the place and said I'd find out what was up. This was at 10:00 o'clock. Our showing was at 12:20.

At 10:15, I get to the theatre and confirm that our showing is, in fact, going to happen. So I call Co-SME and let him know. I also asked him what time he'd be at the theatre, at which point he told me that he wasn't going to be able to get to the theatre until 11:45. "What the fuck are you talking about," I asked. Yup, he wasn't going to get there until just before the movie started. But the fucking line was already fucking long.

So now I've got the tickets and I'm at the fucking theatre in line. Alone. Because if we're going to do this, we need to have good seats, goddammit. Then I get the following text message from Co-SME: "Hey, do you think pH can still make it if I can't?" Are you fucking serious? Are you for fucking real?

So now the whole thing is up in the air but it's way too fucking late to invite anyone else. So there I am sitting on some concrete steps in line for a midnight movie by myself. And the whole thing is up in the air as to whether Co-SME is coming. So then we get into the actual theatre, and I save a seat. And then Co-SME confirms that he will not be coming, at which point I get really pissed. And then they come around asking whether there are any empty seats in any aisles. And I raise my hand and say that there's one next to me, thereby making it obvious that I am, in fact, by myself at a midnight showing of The Dark Knight. And the girls sitting next to me refuse to scoot over and laugh at me.

And that is the story about how I saw The Dark Knight at midnight by my fucking self. I know movies aren't really social things, but I felt like a fucking loser.

Oh, and how was the movie? Well, seeing as how most people are going to see it tomorrow--and with their friends, like I would have liked to see it for the first time--I won't say anything about it.

But I will say this: the trailer for Watchmen looked fucking amazing. And I was really into its use of an extremely obscure Smashing Pumpkins song--it was very effective and fit the mood perfectly.

Oh, and in case this wasn't clear: I fucking hate Co-SME.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 4:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Movie Reviews , Rants , The Smashing Pumpkins

Hayden Panettiere, the cheerleader from Heroes, is totally hot. She also apparently risks her life to save dolphins. And although she's a rich teenager in Hollywood, I haven't seen anything about how she's spending her nights doing blow off of guys' cocks in skeazy West Hollywood clubs. And, as near as I can tell, she hasn't nearly killed anyone with her car. Oh, and she's not the worst actress I've ever seen.

So, you know, she's got some things going for her. What she does not have going for her is musical talent. Check out her music video:

Now, unlike "Popozao," which was the best bad thing that's ever happened, this thing is just bad. I actually couldn't make it through the whole video despite the appealing visuals. This is perhaps the most embarrassing celebrity attempt at crossing over.

Which brings me to my point: why the fuck do all these people think that they have to be famous for everything? It used to be that being a famous singer or a famous movie star was enough, but now every one of the stars thinks that because they've been moderately successful at one thing, they'll be successful at another. Or, worse yet, that because they're moderately talented at one thing, they can do anything. I mean, even Lindsay Lohan released an album.

This is all bullshit. Look, if you're an actress, act. If you're a singer, sing. And if you're not good enough at any one thing to support a career, you have two choices: give up and pack it in or drag it out for as long as possible and wait to get spit out the bottom of the soft-core porn industry. It's pretty much a win-win for me.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Funny Shit , Music Reviews , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

In my darker moments, I have to admit that there are times when I crave McDonald's. I don't know what it is, but sometimes I just need that fried pseudo-food. I imagine it's what a heroin addict feels like. Last night, for example, L-Dawg and I saw someone eating a Chicken McNugget on TV, and we developed a deep-seated need for them. So we started talking about making a giant pile of McNuggets and french fries, and then we ended up actually getting some McNuggets and realized that they're way inferior to the nuggets at Wendy's.

But, though I sometimes crave McDonald's, my need for In-N-Out is ever-present. In-N-Out is, by far, the best fast-food food out there. It's fresh, tasty, and just plain good. It's not healthy by any means, but it's also not artificial or processed or whatever. And it's still consistent--consistently good. In college, my friends and I had an unreasonable--some would say unhealthy--obsession with In-N-Out. In fact, Mr. Morenononsense has missed at least one transcontinental flight due entirely to In-N-Out. And, from what I hear, it was worth it.

But while In-N-Out is my fast-food wife, I have to admit that I also miss my fast-food booty call: Jack in the Box. There's almost nothing better at 3am after a long night of drinking than two orders of tacos, two orders of bacon-cheddar potato wedges, and a sourdough jack. If I'm going to die young, I want it to be because I had too much cheddar and fried food stuck in my mouth, and Jack in the Box makes that goal easy.

I'd kill someone for a double-double and some animal fries right now.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 3:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Restaurant and Bar Reviews

To the guy at the courthouse:
Good god, you're an idiot. Let me see if I understand what you just did. You walked into the Clerk of Courts room, saw the long counter with the windows on it, saw the people standing in the fucking line, saw the fucking signs saying "please wait in line until you are called to a window," and decided that you were somehow above all those fucking rules and just walked right up to a window--one manned by a woman on the phone, no less!--and conducted your business. I fucking hate you.

To the woman at the courthouse:
It's Friday. It's Friday afternoon. No matter what else is going on--me getting rained on, me being frustrated by court--at least I've got the weekend to look forward to. So I'm saying "have a good weekend" to everyone I meet. And everyone's saying it to me. But not you. You responded to my "Hi, how are you?" with a nervous sniff. Fine, whatever. But then when I say "Have a good weekend," give me something. I mean, yeah, I'd like to hear "Thanks, you, too!," but I'd settle for "Thanks," or even some acknowledgment that I had just wished you a good weekend. I'd even be willing to forgive your mind-numbing incompetence if you just sort of nodded your head or smiled or something. What did I get? A nervous sniff. Fuck you.

To the public at large:
I just want you all to know that there is absolutely no way not to look like a giant, unmitigated assjacket while wearing a navy blue sports coat with gold buttons on it. There just isn't. Gold is so unbelievably tacky to begin with, and navy blue somehow only enhances that. You look like you're trying to be a mob boss and the Skipper at the same time. It's a crappy look. Don't wear it.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 6:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants

You know, for all of my deeply held beliefs, and in spite of my legendary stubbornness, I have fought for very few things in my life. I mean, I guess there are things I would theoretically fight for--specific examples elude me at the moment--but there's never really been an issue that I've been actually involved in.

This is due partly to the fact that I haven't really felt like there was anything I could do about most things I've been opposed to or in favor of. How was I, for example, going to have any measurable influence on how the people of Wisconsin voted when confronted with a constitutional amendment that would strengthen this state's prohibition on gay marriage? The fact of the matter is that there was very little I could do, and anything I could do was very likely to reach only those people that agreed with me. A demonstration on the University of Wisconsin campus in favor of gay marriage is the very definition of preaching to the choir.

But maybe I've found something that I can fight. And the best part is that I might be able to make some small difference.

It's not a fight that involves lightsabers or lava pits or anything awesome like that. The only weapons are words and arguments. And the fate of the human race is not at issue. On the grand scheme of things, the whole conflict is about as insignificant as it gets. But, of course, it's not at all insignificant to the people whose lives are being affected. And since those are the people I'm sworn to protect, it's my duty to scratch and claw at every possible benefit to them, no matter how insignificant, and to fight every injustice, no matter how minor.

It's a small fight, and one I might very well be completely unable to win in the long run. Still, I'm not about to--as was suggested today--give up.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Potentially Entirely Unhelpful Analogies

As I was lying in bed, I realized something: if you want to write an angry song, concentrate on something that makes you really, really fucking angry.

So now I've got the rough workings of a verse and a chorus. Because years-old pain is definitely worthy of a giant "fuck you" in song form.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

I saw this a few days ago and thought it was fucking hilarious:

Today Now!: How To Pretend You Give A Shit About The Election

And, of course, the classic insights into a NASCAR coach's strategy:

NASCAR Coach Reveals Winning Strategy: 'Drive Fast'

Hi-fucking-larious.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 3:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under

I very rarely sit down with the intention of writing a song. Instead, I'll pick up the guitar and noodle around until I come up with something that I like. If I'm in a sad mood, I'll mess around with minor chords and minor pentatonic scales. If I'm in an angry mood, I'll mess around with distorted power chords and try to come up with some interesting riffs or fills or whatever. Then I'll generally see where that little snippet wants to progress. Then, depending on my mood and the mood I think the music seems to evoke, I'll generally hum along a melody or come up with some very stupid, rudimentary words, just as a placeholder. Then the whole thing generally starts to come together from there.

The music is always the easiest part for me. At any given time, I've got about a billion different parts and chord progressions and whatever else sitting around waiting to get put into something. Most of these don't go anywhere not because I don't think they're good but because I have a really hard time coming up with lyrics to go with them that I wouldn't be embarrassed to sing in public--not that I do much singing in public, but you know what I mean.

Still, sometimes lyrics just sort of come to me. I like writing songs that have a bunch of words that basically express one idea or theme. I don't like writing songs that are narrative sorts of things. So a lot of the times whether I can write a decent song depends on whether I have an analogy or insight that I think is worth exploring.

So what's really frustrating is that I've been working with this riff for a few weeks now. I really like it, and I think it's got a lot of potential. But I can't come up with shit for words to go with it. And it's not even that I don't have anything to say, it's that I've got a garbled mess in my mind and I want to somehow convey all of it at the same time, but I haven't been able to come up with any sort of analogy for it all, and I can't pin down any one aspect of what I'm feeling to write about.

So I just play the music over and over again but I can't move past the dummy words I came up with to help work out a melody.

And that's some frustrating shit.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

One of my cousins once observed that I was a strange kid. At the time, I took offense. "I wasn't strange," I insisted. But she has a son that's only two years younger than me, so she knew what was going on in the teenage universe at the time, and the fact of the matter is that I was a strange kid.

As lazy as I am, and as much as I half-assed school and whatever else, the fact of the matter is that, emotionally, I'm not half-assed at all. I throw myself into things, people, causes, vendettas, and ideas more readily than I think most people do.

I remember one time in college Mr. X had an emotional personality test. Mr. X was the "Cool Cucumber," someone who neither felt nor expressed deep emotions due to normal occurrences. I was the opposite. I can't remember the name, but I was the person who felt and expressed everything to an exaggerated degree. Surprising, right?

I didn't drink in high school. I mean, I guess I consumed some amount of alcohol before I graduated, but I had never been drunk. That changed in college. Still, for a long time, I was ashamed of the fact that I could drink well. Then I grew to love the fact that there were few people who could drink as well as me.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, it's because I'm about to make two rather embarrassing revelations about myself.

I've written frequently about The House--the house that I was almost always at in college. And I think I've mentioned more than once how the people who lived there would host frequent booze-fueled parties. But what I haven't mentioned is that every time I went to the bathroom while drunk at The House, I held my left hand out in front of me and imagined that I was pyrokinetic.

I don't know why I imagined that I could control fire with my mind, but I did.

Actually, I just lied to you. I know exactly why I imagined that I could control fire with my mind--I imagined it because I was somehow convinced that if I could, in fact, control fire with my mind, I could make things better. Maybe I'd need to be able to control more than fire. Maybe, given complete telekinesis, I could fix everything that's wrong with the world. Yeah, maybe drunk Ismael is that arrogant.

But, of course, neither I nor anyone else can fix anything simply by existing.

There are moments--for example, when I'm drunk and imagining that I can control flames with my mind--when I think I'm qualified to handle the world's problems. There are, however, other moments--for example, when I'm sober and thinking clearly--when I realize that there are plenty of difficult questions without easy answers.

Life is a series of problems, and how we deal with those problems determines who we are.

So far, I've been a coward.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

Contrary to what I believe popular belief to be, I do not write songs exclusively about romantic love or the lack or loss thereof. Sometimes I have other things to write about. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes other things come to mind. Sometimes they don't. In college, I wrote a song that I intended to be not at all about romantic love, but it was sort of a strange song. It had three verses and no choruses, and each verse was about a different person that I respected or admired or whatever. Sure, every person is a woman, but that's not really the point. And if you still think that it's a romantic song, fuck you because the last verse is about my mom.

Anyway, I won't name either of the other people in the song--each one can identify herself if she wants to. It's my hope they'll want to. So, the first verse is about one of my longest-standing friends--at this point, I've known her for almost fifteen years. Second only to my mother, this girl is responsible for whatever positive attitudes I might have about women. She was one of the first women I ever met that was beautiful, intelligent, independent, and generally all-around awesome. I respected--and respect--her a great deal. So it seemed apt to include her. She also had extremely beautiful arms and a really cute nose.

The second verse is about a friend of mine from college. She greatly impressed me during our first conversation because we discussed our misunderstanding of gravity. Drunken philosophical conversations are, of course, nothing new. But this girl was--and is--actually smart. Extremely so. And fun and cool and pretentious. But that last thing is good. Anyway, yeah.

And, of course, the third verse is about my mom whose complete lack of selfishness has never, ever stopped surprising me. I talk a lot about how my rolemodels are Superman and Socrates and whoever the fuck else, but in terms of being a good, decent, hard-working, unbelievably generous person, no one compares to my mom.

So, yeah, this has been up on the blog for a while. But, as a shoutout, I'm putting it on the front page with an explanation.

The Lovers of Sight and Sound - Three

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 8:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , The Lovers of Sight and Sound