Archive for June, 2009


won’t let the nervous bury me.

Interesting epiphany: If someone on the street yells “JIM!” at me, I will take whatever they’re handing out because I’m too phased to walk away. As a result, four people have given me pamphlets about New York Sports Clubs in the past week. I am an idiot.

Also, I got a text from a friend last night in which he told me that at some point, I had said that I wanted to waltz at my wedding, specifically to this song:
This sounds like a catastrophic idea, as I can’t dance to save my life, let alone waltz, but I’m gonna stick with it. I want the guests at my wedding to be completely confused, starting with my mom.

I apologize for a lack of real updates recently. I feel like I’ve been overrun with a ton of visitors the last week, mainly cause I have been (the number is at four since Wednesday). It’s been nice, but because my room is rapidly becoming a hotel, there’s definitely some strain with the roommates. The last week’s been a blast though, what with the ’70s porn party (which, granted, felt like it was held in a pizza oven but absolutely could have gone much worse) and Gay Pride Palooza (to say the least, an experience).

This is what I expected my summer in NYC to be like: not necessarily a ton of scantily clad men on floats dancing to Michael Jackson songs, but new and interesting stuff going on every week. One of Berlin’s many, many drawbacks is that it literally has nothing to keep people busy. Here? Between free concerts, movie screenings (I get to see Funny People tomorrow, about a month early), working hard (or hardly working), and other miscellany, I’m in a little bit over my head with stuff to do. Which, you know, is exactly where I want to be.


get up offa that thang, it’s time to relieve the pressure.

Tonight, a friend has commandeered my apartment for her party idea. The trainwreck potential (of both the greatness of the party and the lack of sobriety) is absolutely enormous, and the theme? ’70s porn. If this thing is a success, there will be pictures. If it is a spectacular failure, there will be video.

Wish us luck.



So, while I got a lot of things while I was home (food, clean clothing, affection, etc.), one thing that I managed to leave was my Patrick Carbrey Dunseith, Vol. 2. For those of you who don’t know, this is the name that the Lord bestowed upon my iPod.

This is a crisis. I walk to work. I can’t deal with listening to, you know, the hoipolloi.

In addition, I literally have one album of music on my computer. The other 15000 songs? On PCD.

*fetal position*


blend all your days into weeks.

So, as I mentioned last post, I went back to good old South Jersey this past weekend. What I realize more and more is that being back there is great in tiny bursts. The family is great, the friends are great, the hangouts and catch-ups are great, but…
town of Berlin
Berlin just doesn’t cut it. So close to Philly, yet so, so far away. Even though it’s all kinds of expensive, New York is keeping me busy, at least.

I will say this though: being here is making me feel older and older every day. Not in a bad way or anything, just, you know, older. I had to put aside an immature vendetta against umbrellas and carry one to work. Am I old enough that I have to start calling truces now?

Anyway, I started this post wanting to try and put together some goals for this summer, but, well, I haven’t really figured them out myself. I’ll try to piece together something eloquent soon, but in the meantime, have this. It might be my favorite song of the decade, and it’s relevant cause, well, we really don’t have any sunshine.

On that, I’m off to bed. Fare thee well.


Some are doctors, some lawyers, and business executives…

Dear Showtime,

I’ve only just recently started watching your program Weeds. It’s great. It really is. I watched the first season over a couple of days, and I’m into the second now.

With that said, I want the time that you’ve taken from me back, as I can’t seem to do anything other than watch this show. In addition, I absolutely hate Silas. HATE him..

Keep up the good work.


So yes, I’m back home in New Jersey this weekend, and more than likely, the time that I don’t spend sleeping will be spent watching Weeds. Highly recommended.


Live Long and Prosper, Indeed.

I’m at work, saw this, and really enjoyed it. The last two and a half minutes are the best. Conan=perfect. Shatner=drunk. Jim=pleased.


Yawning Zeitgeist Intro

Hey, everybody. Welcome to yet another blog that I’m probably gonna ask you to read from time to time.

I know that I flood you guys with status updates, Tweets, smoke signals, etc. about TDoFS, and I’m probably gonna keep doing that. But as I’m realizing, not all of you guys are as into music as I am, so this one will be more about me. Stuff I’m doing, stuff I like, etc. Is there gonna be some overlap between the two? I’m sure of it, but I’ll try and keep my inner Pitchfork to myself this time around.

First, the name of the blog. A couple reasons for it:

1) Radiohead. Apparently, was taken, so wins, leading to…

2) I’m not a deep person. Existentialism is not my thing. The actual subtitle of the song “There There” (The Boney King of Nowhere) seemed a little bit too intense. As it seems like I’m going to be in New York City for a while, the boney king of NYC sticks until I can come up with something better.

3) The title of the post. It’s a song by this rapper Busdriver. Weirdly, a friend of mine allegedly hooked up with Busdriver, but that’s another story altogether. Anyway, here are the lyrics, cause I found them kind of applicable:

“Do you have a fear of a black tangent? Were you born in the year of the rat? Do you cheer and clap when weird rap bands commence?

I can tell by your answer you’ll frolic with me in the foothills, and that you want your tofu patties cooked, not grilled. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve been enticed and drawn in with my hook and reel.”

So, Busdriver likes to ramble. And so do I. And even though I hate tofu, I guess that’s what I’ll be doing here.

Hope you enjoy it. Be ready for another real post in like fifteen minutes.