UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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HEAVY ROTATION

Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes




BLOGS ETC

claude le monde
nuncstans
rock 'em stock 'em
tomato nation
postmodern drunkard
tuckova 22
ghastly mess
constintina
total virility
fuzzysquid
drunken bee
stacey nightmare
elyse from ANTM
stereolabrat
dark side points
jf_franklin
123 i love you READ NOW
brotherhood 2.0

NOT BLOGS ETC

qwantz (dinosaur comix)
go fug yourself
the burg
cat and girl
book of ratings
married to the sea
icanhascheezburger
fire joe morgan
fivethirtyeight.com
READ NOW
hospitality on parade

WEIRD LOVE

dead amusement pks
craters!


all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield



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PRAISE & REVIEWS

"[UD] is a genius."
--Christian Oates

"[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not."
--Tricia Howey



MOTTO

egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

Razor Ection



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and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

Monday, January 05, 2004
 
One good thing about a new year is that I almost always write a new song. January 1, 1999 saw the birth of my songwriting career (for real, I mean, ignoring certain earlier novelty efforts) with "Robot," which, like every song or word I wrote in 1999, was about the impending end of the world. That was so weird! I woke up on Jan 1 and I just knew the end was near! I'm so glad I had a four-track handy instead of oaktag, magic markers, a yardstick, and a toga, or I could very easily have become a gag panel cliché, standing next to that blind guy selling pencils.
     If I were a good blogger without A.D.D., this is where I would write something about songs I wrote in the beginnings of 2000, 2001, and 2002. But shut up. Because I don't remember those years at all. Nor do I remember last week so good. Nor do I remember you -- who are you? HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?
     I didn't write a lot of music during 2003 because several other demanding pursuits sucked most of the creativity out of me before I got home each night. Yes, I am looking at you, you bastards, and your eyes should sting with guilt, squirt hot tears into your keyboards. Heh. I don't know at whom that last sentence was directed, but if you feel even a smidge guilty, then I guess it's you.
     Also the fact that I've got a lot of songs finished, enough for an album, but NONE of the energy or motivation required to DO SOMETHING WITH THEM, makes the notion of creating more music seem sorta pointless. Although, come to think of it, I do seem to recall lip-synching one of my songs in front of a video camera while other people moved around a lot and one guy in particular yelled "action" and "cut" and "fuck" a lot. Does that count as "doing something" with the music? Well, then I'm in the clear.
     Except see, I made a new song for you, darlings. I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do; my gift is my song, and this one is a hot steaming bag of balls. Listen.

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
-
"from whence"
-
"...the exception that proves the rule"
-
any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
-
the phrase "drop trou"
-
fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
-
"expat"
-
the euphemism
"passed away"
-
pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")



PET PEEVES

"confinscated"
-
trying children "as adults"
-
"drownded"
-
misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT.
-
tattoos in the Courier font
-
any use of Comic Sans