my twisted words?

It’s been almost a week since Radiohead released ‘These Are My Twisted Words’ and I’m scared to articulate my presently unresolved thoughts. This is because I know that it’s almost blasphemous to say anything bad about Radiohead because they are pretty much superhuman but come on guys, this could have been one of the weakest tracks on ‘In Rainbows’. Cue guilt. Perhaps I haven’t listened to the track enough times per hour to fall victim to its hypnotic grip. Perhaps I have an underdeveloped appreciation of new age musical experimentalism and that I really miss the long gone, good old cushy days of The Bends. Okay. Let’s pretend we’re on Planet Creative, where there are bands out there of near equal celestial quality as Radiohead and newrandombandX released this. I’m half convinced that most people would have stopped listening by the second minute of the song. Right before Thom(or rather, the superb vocalist of newrandomband X) pleases the lyric hungry with a mini congregation of words, which I think saved the almost 6 minute long song from humdrum. But wait, there is some hope - the song gets better each time you listen to it.. so at the very least, there is some hope for this currently sonically middling track to evolve into something far greater in the near future. The mystique of music. Who really gets these things?

hat gains a year

It’s Hat’s birthday today. Or it was yesterday. Or it was a couple of days/weeks/months ago, depending on when you’re reading this. Since I already messed up her card with an inappropriate amount of words, I’ll keep this (belated) birthday post short.

HAPPY TWEENIE THIRD BIRTHDAY, G!

Birthday anthem time:

diz iz anoda hot Bone thugz song

good timez

King Rat

To be completely honest, I don't really like this video clip but I thought I'd share it you anyway because it was directed by the late, the great Heath Ledger. That makes it pretty special, I guess. So here, King Rat by Modest Mouse.

PDA (Public Display of Anger)

Hat wrote briefly about several things that she doesn't get. Here's a list, in no particular order, of several things that vex me to venus:

1. My local friends who make fun of me because sometimes I speak the local lingo. I’m Malaysian. So are you, fuckhead. Typically:

Phone rings, I answer.

‘Ey brader lu buat apa sial? Aku...macam...(..loses the ability to focus on fake accent.. but is still determined to get on my nerves)..kenapa..eh..apersalll..ah..kau ni..(is making absolutely no sense at this point and gives up, abandons the whole act and speaks in English). Wouldn’t it have been easier for the both of us if you just called and said ‘Hey, what are you up to?’

I can draw parallels between that and this:


Lets even out the score here if you want to keep playing. Speaking Chinese to your Chinese friends doesn’t make you any less of a ching chong chinky little winky mainland china man than speaking Malay to my friends makes me ‘uncivilised’ (i.e. kampong), as you constantly insinuate. Stop the uncreative, inept mocking. I, for one, have never sat on a revved up C70 Honda kapcai, so I know for a fact that my Malay is not as coarse as you seem to believe. Second, your mimicry skills are pathetic and need a lot more practice- no one enjoys ersatz comedies, not even your friends. Go eat your fucking nooderrrss, than chew werr mash.






2. You, underaged ugly, at the mall, with the SLR hanging from your neck. This constant snapping of lame photos of your ugly friends must end. All they’re doing is sitting down in McDonalds, sharing a small pack of fries between all 9 of them. This is because that’s all they can afford after they had to blow their annual allowance chipping in for the cheapest SLR for you, just so that your herpes-faced herd can walk around the mall, thinking ‘Fuck.we’re arty. If you can’t tell by our flannel shirts, just look, our friend has an SLR around his neck!’ Back to you, Sheppard with the SLR, sure your pictures may turn out looking like Picassos masterpieces, but that’s only because your friends have fucking disoriented faces. Save our poor eyes the pain and our minds the irritation and basically do the world a favour : go home and stay there forever.

3. The word 'indie'. Shit, i just typed it. Cringe.



4.

People who pass judgment when I order a salad. It’s a fucking salad, not a diet pill. You like your grease, I like my greens. I don’t say ‘Easy there, Sean Kingston’ when you order your oil drenched fried chicken so please, let me enjoy my salad sans suspicion of anorexia. Maybe you should try it too so you’d look and sound less constipated all the time.



5.

People on social networking websites who claim to be your ‘friends’ but then launch shocking, horrible, unforgivable personal attacks on you in cyberspace. You log on to Facebook and notice in the right hand corner of the page, a seemingly harmless little red box with the number 8 in it. You’re humming a little tune because it’s been a pretty good day so far- you haven’t tripped, spilt anything or been yelled at yet. Innocently, you click on the box and to your absolute horror, you discover that a ‘friend’ you haven’t seen in the past 7 years has been feeling a little nostalgic, a little malicious and took it upon him/herself to publish up 8 dusty(ghastly) photos of you..photos which really should have been left (or burnt) when they were taken : in the unsightly past. I don’t have a problem with nostalgia, sure, we had some good times but I don’t need to be reminded of how bad I looked when I was having those good times. The best (and by best I mean most mortifying) thing about these old pictures is that I’m always surrounded by my pretty friends who somehow never went through an 11 year long awkward phase (yes, I’m special. And still recovering) or any gawkiness at all, from my metal smile you can tell that at the time I didn’t fully appreciate how fucking retarded I looked. And so you sit, look back and forth between your reflection and the 12 year old you and realise that minus the geeky glasses and braces, not all that much has changed. After this, no humming is heard for weeks. This cannot be what ‘friends’ are for. No.

6. This is probably more heartbreaking than it is irritating:



Ramesh Srivastava, Voxtrot frontman, possibly the man of my dreams, GAY.

tonights lullaby

cold case #1

there are many things in this world that i just dont get. for example, blogshops, malaysian FASHIONISTAS, shah alam, my ex-schoolmates, supras and well just about everything under the sun basically.

anyway, the thing that got me puzzling for today is
jumping photos.

ive never done it but everyone and by everyone i mean all my friends on facebook has at least one. i dont get it. why do u jump when u take photos? and oh my god some people can actually jump really high (amazzziiing!).
in my opinion, if ure not jumping over a cliff of 500m above sea level (not less and with no help from cords or ropes or whatever) then its totally unnecessary to have jumping photos.

itsy-bitsy irritation

Remember that friend of yours who’s been chain-smoking since he was 9 but finally quit the stick this year after the government decided to print pictures of funky foot gangrene and blood soaked foetuses on cigarette boxes? No? Me neither. We get it, smoking is bad. Smokers don’t need macabre images of the potential damage they are inflicting upon themselves to remind them that smoking is indeed a bad, bad habit. It’s just annoying. Will power won’t jump out of a gory image. Kudos to the government for increasing the sales of cigarette cases though! You know what bothers me more than second hand smoke? It’s the amount of disgustingly obese people I see dragging their weight around at 10 meters per hour, sweating profusely at all times, breathing like 40 year old diesel trucks. If the health authorities are so deeply concerned with promoting wellbeing and good health, why don’t they stick these photos on Big Mac boxes :

babbles

when we started this blog, it had no direction. then sciolizm decided to take over and make this her musical blog. as my taste in music is questionable, ive decided that my part is to write crap.

Q: do u ever realize that u always want to slap annoying people but punch someone with annoying face?
A: an annoying face is a greater crime than an annoying personality. and more often than not, an annoying face comes with a combo of annoying personality. therefore greater punishment is well deserved. but the sad thing is u can never change ur face.

Q: do u wanna slap or punch me?
1.

2.

3.

my answer:
1. punch
2. slap
2. punch, slap, kick, push him off the cliff, pull his hair until his scalp bleeds and so on and so forth. I HATE HIM.

take a 6 minute break

i made a conscious effort to try to not like this. i tried, i failed.

take it or leave it

Let's face it, when The Strokes came around to save us from the shit we were listening to when the world didn't end in 2000, we all felt a lot cooler. It was a dark, dark age when they arrived : Linkin Park had just landed, At The Drive-In and the Spice Girls had disbanded, girls were wearing baby-Ts which exposed an inch of bellyflab. Everything was going wrong. How did they get so cool?

Whilst the girls replaced glossy posters of Boyd with Casablancas/Moretti/Valensi, boys pretended they weren't rocking out to Fat Lip just days before they saw Last Night on MTV and swore they'd always loved rock and roll. Some even started wearing blazers.

Sadly and inevitably, love turned to (mostly forced,fake) hate. I guess things really turned sour when the kids that were wearing eminem t shirts traded them in for The Strokes t shrits(happened again after Transformers) but still wore them with their Fubu baggy jeans. We couldn't say out loud that we liked The Strokes anymore and it wasn't because they sucked, it's just that they were too famous (which translates to cheesy, uncool, bad). We're just fucked up like that. We're such jealous lovers with bands sometimes, once too many people have gotten all cozy with them, we get pissed off and disown them like two dollar whores...whilst secretly still being in love with them.

I'm coming out of the closet : I think The Strokes are legendary, and have never been disappointed by any of their albums. I love them! Here's the issue- three albums and a lot of fuss later, Julian Casablancas has decided to embark on a solo career. He's releasing his first solo album 'in the fall'. I spent several years of my life hoping I would marry him, and still have a lot of faith left, not so much in being a Casablancas but in him, as a musician. Although its produced by Jason Leder, I'm a pessimist and am still nervous that he's going to fuck us over with 8 tracks that Vampire Weekend could have come up with. Well, if Phrazes for the Young is a total disaster, we still have The Strokes' fourth coming album to anticipate.


We'll just have to wait and see, I guess. But for now, here's what he's got to say :

(I honestly got too distracted by his face to listen to what he was saying most of the time. Pretty.)





WAIT. PAUSE AT 1:03. What's that? Fuck yeah, not Supras.

.

scroll to

[sciolizm's thoughts]

right click. copy.

right click. paste :

a requiem by radiohead

Radiohead decided to write a song to commemorate Harry Patch, the last surviving British World War 1 combatant who died on the 25th of July this year at the tired age of 111! The lyrics are actually all quotes from the war veteran himself, which is pretty sweet. Enjoy (probably not the best way to start your day though).

why hasn't this hit the nation by storm yet?

hat and i saw this magazine (wait for it) the other day at what is possibly the most enormous magazine shop in Malaysia. at first i walked past it, it was next to the pre-pubescent section. you know you need to get the fuck away from an area where twenty Mylie Cyrus', fifteen sets of the Jonas Brothers and six Taylor Swifts are eyeballing you, simultaneously, with grins that put the Cheshire cat to shame. in their glossy greatness, set against a spillage of the most hideous tones of fluorescent yellow and pink, they watch you below headlines that promise to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets (favourite colour, favourite food). as i distanced myself from the atrocity, something caught my eye. it was the british royal family, all lined up on a shelf, looking nothing short of delighted. the magazines called Majesty, which according to its website, gives its readers a colourful insight into the privileged lives of the royal families of the world. who the hell buys this shit?

anyway, whilst below this shelf of individual royals was an array of mags on lady di, above it was this mega find:


The Best Selling Lesbian Magazine!!!!

this is a slice of my insensitivity but i just couldn't resist sharing. come on, its kind of funny..especially because homosexuality is basically illegal in this country.

even so, drag kings are no rarity here. they're the underdogs who don't get enough international attention compared to the SEA ladyboys(mad propz to yall at Parkson and Topshop). perhaps because they are far, far less attractive than ladyboys. they're all kind of underheight and overweight, and look like they've been deep fried in lard several times. oh they also lovelovelove cargo trousers. perhaps they think that masculinity is measured by the number of pockets one has. anyway. the point is, as they are multiplying by the second, i think they need to be alerted that they can stop pretending to be interested in motor trader and start subscribing to a magazine that caters specifically to them.

old, alone, done for!

my birthday is coming soon so here's my wishlist to give everyone (i.e no one) ideas of what i want when i turn a year older.

1. LA CANDY

2. Demi lovato's new album

3. Jonas Brothers' new album


see im easily pleased.
but seriously if i want these shits ill get them myself. and yesss i likeee disneys popstars. :D

what i really want is

a brand spanking new kitten fresh out of mommys womb. all sticky and alieny! woot woot.

Hope

For all 2009 and perhaps 08, the world has awaited the birth of a song which wasn’t interested in outsynthing its peers, for a song which at the very least bordered on being honest if being sensible is too much to ask. Many of us were pretty much ready to resign to Option 1 of never updating existing playlists or Option 2 of updating it, and enduring abuse from songs that spin butcher knives in your brain and/or kick you into some awkward dance(involuntarily). Just as I was signing up for Option 1 i.e. I Am So Fucking Sick Of Electronica, Voxtrot came back to save us all, just like a dream. At an age where lyrics have taken the backseat, letting drum machines drive instead, Ramesh has stuck by his pen through and through, delivering verses and choruses that will charm even the most reluctant romantics. Voxtrot is, hands down, the best thing that has ever come out of Texas. Slightly unfashionable, completely endearing.

Berlin, Without Return - Voxtrot

wayfaring stranger

pretty prague:

minor adjustment

the atrocity that is the flaming lips song in the previous post was starting to seriously bother me. so i felt the need to put up a song that i actually did like. here's my attempt to cancel out the evil with some good :

In This Lonely Town - Jeremy Jay


Ooooo. this is the first time i'm posting a song (err mp3?..) instead of a video.it should work. i chose Jeremy Jay because earlier today i was checking out records at a store with a friend of mine and i asked him if he liked Jeremy Jay, he said he's never heard of him(them?) and asked me what sort of music he plays. i honestly couldn't remember at the time, but i remember a very good French friend of mine showing me Jeremy Jay's myspace awhile back and me liking what I heard. the end.

on a lighter note

today i was reminded of one of the few good things about this place - yellow watermelons (no racist sexual innuendo, perverts). not the most curious of fruits but one of my top ten fruits for sho.

i'm sure if i tried hard enough id be able to find some in England but readily sliced and at thrice the price. more than thrice. you get the point. i'm convinced that the yellow watermelon is superior to its red counterpart based on its colour alone. more interestingly, i have just found out that the Roma people (derogatorily and often unnecessarily referred to as 'gypsies') are responsible for a pretty amusing folklore on Watermelon Vampires.

www.lesvampires.org tells me (don't question why I was on this website)


"The belief in vampire watermelons is similar to the belief that any inanimate object left outside during the night of a full moon will become a vampire. According to tradition, virtually any kind of melon or pumpkin kept more than ten days or after Christmas will become a vampire, rolling around on the ground and growling to pester the living. People have little fear of the vampire melons because of the creatures' lack of teeth. One of the main indications that a melon is about to undergo a vampiric transformation (or has just completed one) is said to be the appearance of a drop of blood on its skin."

these vamps must be the laughing stock of the Vampire Empire (i'm sure this exists even if it is just in my nightmares). theyre handicapped from performing the sole duty of vampires. losers. i also imagine that they must look something like this :




pretty scary if you ask me.

that's about all for now, kids. oh, and this next song. i don't even like it, its just got the word watermelon in it. fangs for your time.