Sunday, March 28, 2010

BTW

I can squeeze radio scripts out of the palms of my hands with time to import Dean Martin Vinyl and watch Breaking Bad.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Scurred

I've been listening to a lot of first aid kit, a lot of Nico, and periodically watching Nicholas Meyer's "Time After Time" (No relation to the Cyndy Lauper song, sadly)
Present day video of First Aid Kit:
http://www.vimeo.com/6416192


Future Day (The 80s?)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KiU5P4ihIQ&feature=related


You're welcome....

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Tuesday will be the day that I die.
By Barry Rowen

Darling it’s time a write you a letter because tomorrow will be the day I die.
Let’s not dwell on the subject, okay?
We’ve seen this coming, at least I have.
Whether it’s my fault or the other party involved, is rather unimportant.
Tomorrow is Tuesday, I die on Tuesday. It’s set in stone.
I know what you’re thinking.
“You didn’t die last Tuesday.”
Well last Tuesday wasn’t his this Tuesday and this Tuesday I die. It’s that simple, but I can understand you having a hard time.
I’ve got ten minutes before my nightly workout, more than enough time to roll over some of the good ole’ days with you. Well, where do we start…
We were born on the east coast and searched for a marital existence within the Midwest.
We found a farm to rent where I made a living raising cattle, pigs, and llamas. Of course due to the “accident” I couldn’t milk a cow, but once we figured that out…
Remember that time we dressed the llama up like your mother, yeah good times.
Who knew she resembled a llama quite so well.
From our love affair came a son. I don’t really feel the need to tell him though. This news would only burden him and I just don’t feel it’s my place. Ever since he bought that turtle it seems that he’s had his hands full. I remember his first infatuation with animals at the Zoo when he was three. I had wandered off looking for a bar and left him in the capable hands of a female gorilla. I returned, somewhat intoxicated, admittedly, to find Pepito’s legs broken.
Darling, he’s not a man, he cried for days, and I was just like well, you know what there something called a good impression.
Moreover though, I am going to die!
Sad? Perhaps, but we must take it in stride, perhaps I belong elsewhere.
We both know I am an active Hindu so of course after I have died; my soul shall invade the body of another benevolent creature on this earth.
I have made every effort to prepare for such an incident. Last night I went on a website that Jimmy Whales told me about call Wikipedia. Lovely site, FYI ha. I researched many animals such as the giraffe, antelope, cantaloupe (because they rhymed ha), camel, grizzly bear, and tiger. I feel that I am more than prepared at this point to take on the shape of any creature in the afterlife, which should occur somewhere around Wednesday.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

http://www.vimeo.com/10023492

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Hands are Quaking

my heart swings like that screen door after we came in from running through the sprinkler
jim handed us those twizzlers-don’t take candy from strangers- well, he was our creepy landlord.
Do you even remember him? He stole money from Mom and Dad, there was a lawsuit.
I remember that day because Mom forgot to pack my lunch. The school offered me a hot lunch, my first, which would ultimately be one of three.
I say my heart swings because the wind came on and...
the song i mean
“The Wind” came on and i was ultimately driven away form this sorry state...
I
I made a genius list. am i choreographing my own self esteem? Maybe but lets not write YES just yet
The chat icon is staring at me in the right corner, not her Barry, mind your theories
there are no girls at ryle anymore.
Where did i spend my day?
Ryle
Fleet foxes always remind me of 42 and black and night and a stairway to an abyss
you think she’s having a good time tonight, you think she self assured, you hope, but you know your feelings are probably hers
she was there three years ago, it stands to reason she’ll be there for the next three. doesn’t it?
unless you move to Wisconsin
unless your father reads a blog
unless Guatemala is one of your top followers

I’ll come to my senior exit project drunk, i swear. I’ll throw wine bottles at Novak and make out with the sluttiest girls as we chant in our muffled alcoholism “California Dreaming.”
I’ll vomit and mop up the poetry when I sober up. T.S. Elliot- was creepy and his voice had the shakes ( Shakes: See: Michael J. Fox disorder).

A Letter:

Dear Bon Iver,

During the last summer I discovered your album “For Emma, Forever Ago.” Needless to say I was entranced, particularly with a song titled, “Flume.” In recent times I have come to the conclusion that these songs relate a great deal to how I was feeling when I listened to them.

Mr. Iver, I feel that you are man after my own heart, thus I feel you won’t mind answer a simple question from a huge fan (I have a Bon Iver T-shirt and I’m considering buying another)(no, it’s true!).


The Question:

WHAT THE HELL ARE ANY OF YOUR SONGS ABOUT?


A big fan,
Barry A. Rowen

Thursday, March 4, 2010

i-dont-know-if-i-can-take-it.... part 2

How do I perfectly illustrate the fact?
There are no beautiful secret women anymore. I know every single one, and worst of all they know me. There is no loving from a far, no fawning over. There is a list I keep inside of my head, warding me away from those who are cute, but nuts. I don’t want to objectify, but the well has run dry. There are no kids that get my humor anymore, if they ever really did. I suppose in past years I was too distracted with those who got it and could perform it.
I turned to my friend after we had finished watching the Hurtlocker and sang along with the metal guitars which accompanied the credits and sand like nickelback”,Irack war, it’s Irack, we’re soldiers what? Fightin’ in the war! War soldiers, a combination of soldiers.... in the war.” He stared at me with awe, it was a stupid joke, but he probably didn’t even recognize that.
Hockney said to me the other day how she would like to here me play the banjo for the class sometime. I thought to myself, what would the lyrics be?
“Special Topics! It’s simple math, but I suck at it cuz, I suck at math!
That girl is pregnant and that girl is fat,
and she works at taco bell and she never shuts up,
and I felt like my job had come full circle when she came into Walgreens to buy her first pack of cigarettes (I had always sold them to her mother).
And she’s really fat and loud.
And fuck this class.”
The lyrics didn't Rhyme though.

We had to pick a poem today for English. This is where we take a poem analyze it for a page, etc. We do it at lunch and mine usually contains a picture or a funny title, but more and more I just get pissed off and it’s insulting. Today i just grabbed a picture off Hamm’s bookshelf. It was a copy of some poem Austin wrote and I typed up a page on it.
I sang a song for the student teacher in Euro.
I made a 120 slide cartoon during CTA.

“I wrote a hit play and directed it, so I’m not sweating it either.”

-Max Fisher

I know I'm months away from road trips, yard sales, girls, college, literature, new music, ryle in the AM, but I can still predict every school day. Where I will be, who I will talk to.
Tomorrowisfridaytomorrowisfridaytomorrowisfridaytomorrowisfridaytomorrowisfridaytomorrowisfriday

and tomorrow is Monday.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

I don't know if I can take it...

Kim Hockney in the morning, I hate when I'm early.... she talks about how wonderful the morning is, as i wonder why she wear a black buttoned up shirt, with pinstripe pants, all tied together with a leopard print scarf around the waist... I'm only one man... so.ugly.

I will play the banjo. I will play Popeye the sailor man. I yam what I yam
I can't handle another day for being told I need to get involved in the Ohio kids theater program that her daughter is involved in. Then invariably for the 800th time my global issues teacher will ask me whether i think being in Iraq is good. Are we doing what we can for child prostitutes? Can we help Restevicks? What about Darfur? Everyone.Is.Fucked. This world, its horrible - closings thoughts on the class. She has lost all reign, the kids chewing tobacco in the back, on a whim unraveled a poster of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" and taped it on the wall.

I will eat lunch and work on power points. I will hate AP English and live on Hamm's promises of the exam's simplicity. Euro. Majorie, I love you. You're an idiot, and I have fallen for it.
Favorite June Madison Quote of the day:
" I don't wanna have to tell y'all this, but when you type in 'Dick's' you have to type in Dicks sporting goods. I mean I really don't wanna have to day that, but they'll block it otherwise."

Breathe on the weekends, that's why I had to quit Speech.


video