Whistling Past the Graveyard

➊ Every once in a while, somebody comes along and starts blowing my mind. It was Wallace Stevens for a while. Richard Fariña for the longest. (It still is, really.) But right now this cat Charles Simic is fucking me up. (Multiple links.)

➋ Man. Yeah. Get it out of the way. I'll say this: if you're going to tote a man-purse, the only way to really even keep it somewhere close to gangster is rocking an Army surplus map bag. But, uh. Mine's actually khaki.

➌ I just recently heard this Juelz Santana joint called "Murda Murda" - over a twisted "Welcome to Jamrock" sample. Cam's on it. His verse starts: "Killa killa / mo' killin' killin' / for killa killa." For some reason, this has everything to do with why I think the new DVD will be fucking fire. Goonie goo goo. (holler at Canary Burgundy.)

➍ You got to give it up to those merciless jerks over at Apple. All they do all day long is think of ways to engender insane product lust in customers new and old. Video iPods? Whatever. Now you can pay money to watch old ass (if still somewhat sick) videos. (Fuck it. Get iTunes.

➎ Usually I try and treat The Fader as a jumping-off point. You know? Because I don't want to have my taste dictated exclusively by a publication. That being said, the kid Catch wrote a review of this video game soundtrack in the new one. I know. But I am here to tell you that it is in fact the fire. (It says it's coming out the 18th, but I got mine, like, at a store.) Brett! What's the story on this shit?

➏ Yo, fuck what you heard. That movie Slackers is the shit.



Holler.


➐ Rai Chile! Step your blog game up, dog! (Don't feel too bad. Skritch is slackin' like a muh fucker, too.)

➑ There has been some serious correspondence going down between Fahsboro and Hiebradond. I was gonna run excerpts, but it's maybe too involved.