UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu  feed it up!
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You are just a number to me! And that number is: PAGES UD MADE: My Books Page My Reviews Page My Reference Page My Music Page My Pictures My Store UD-RELATED PAGES: My LiveJournal My MySpace music page My Flickr page My del.icio.us page My Last.fm page My Amazon Wishlist 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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Thursday, January 27, 2005
Here's what I'd like: brilliance. I want to be blinded by it, and I want it to come from me. I want to market myself as a man of reliable -- but not predictable -- effulgence, I want to hire myself out for parties. This ad for a movie called The Wedding Date makes me want to make my living by going to parties, and although I could easily be the date for the desperate sibling or bridesmaid, I'd much rather be the stunning walking talking wit of the century, and nobody's date but... um... Destiny's? Hello, I'm UD. You must be the bride, Oh, you're her mother?, Fa fa fa!, let's dance! Twist my arm and I'll sing you a song -- about Jacques Lacan! Ah, but fuck it. This is not brilliance. This is uncle material, as in "your uncle UD is such a card," oh god. Anyway, getting paid for going to parties just sounds wrong, like a hot girl giving you chocolate to convince you to have sex with her. Cut to the professional skydiver, windburned and craggy, who screams over the propeller noise "I get paid to do what I love, man! How much better can life get?" and he leans back into the void with a lusty whoop as the cameraman tries to hold the poop in his underwear until they land.
Brilliance is a bad goal. Brilliance hides in your blind spot, and you can't attain it by striving, goddamn it, or every yokel with a good work ethic would have a glowing blurb from Michiko Kakutani or Sven Birkerts on his dustjacket. Brilliance is the girl on the train who you are pretty sure is looking at you but every time you lift your head or eyes to check, she's deep in that book, and frankly she looks about two stops away from a morning snooze. What was she doing last night? Say one time you found brilliance and it felt like falling through the only thin patch of ice on a frozen pond. Well if your friends see you two years later, jumping up and down two-footedly on a body of water that could only be called a puddle by the descriptively generous (you know: "the line was a mile long and we waited an eternity for our brioche -- Dean & Deluca is good but I must have sweated a billion gallons in there!"), let's hope they have the decency to wait a week after dropping you at the asylum before dividing up your CD collection. Half of the musicians I like would never get past the first audition round of American Idol, and that's as it should be. (Incidentally, The Beatles are not overrated; they are rated exactly where they should be.) Americans fetishize British accents in certain weird ways, like for some reason we are more likely to respond to a kitchen appliance infomercial if there's a guy with a limey accent in it, supporting the blond American pre-matron. Likewise, Simon from AmIdol gets to say things that would get an American dude punched in the face, or diagnosed as a serious sociopath. In the case of the infomercial guy, I think that the accent is used to hold people's attention. His particular accent just sounds outlandish, and you kind of keep watching just to hear him say normal words in a weird way. A lot of American boys who watched too much Monty Python think they do a good Brit accent, but they are wrong on two counts: 1) Their accent is bad, and 2) they don't substitute the right idioms to actually pass for Limey. Everyone can remember lorry, boot, fag, shag, flat, and lift, but it's hard to remember to say "hang on" instead of "hold on", "in hospital" instead of "in the hospital", "get on" instead of "get along"and "it's actually quite brilliant, rilly" instead of "it rocks." Anyway, these themes may get chased down at a later date. When it comes to chasing ideas, I'm not so much FloJo as I am AdRock in the video for "Sabotage" -- flashy, stupid-looking and useless, and probably on a rooftop. But I'm pretty sure nobody I know was on that commuter train in L.A., so I feel okay putting together a setlist for my imaginary lounge singer act (So far it's only this: Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat; Taking a Chance on Love; Kissing a Fool; Bohemian Rhapsody; Hallelujah [L. Cohen]; Lady Madonna.) Suggestions are welcome, as ever. [Oh and by the way I feel like some of you have asked to know when I'm hosting the pub quiz that I periodically host. Well, I'm hosting it next week. Detail in the comments to this post.] 0 comments |
OTHER REVIEWS: Scrabble NEW! LATEST BOOK REVIEWS: The Game Moneyball One-Upsmanship Siddhartha You need the Fear Not Guide to Life. Buy it already. ($4) Now available! The Broomfield Variations CD ($10) or go to The UD Store 
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 |