Maybe I'm

boy crazy because my formative years were furnished by literary-feces like:



when I should have been reading the obviously superior:

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

Grizzly Bear as animatronics! Picture this side-show replacing all those machines in your Chuck-E-Cheeses/Bullwinkles/[Nightmare Machine/Animatronic Display of Choice]. This is wonderful, and terrifying, and wonderful, AGAIN.





Thank you Patrick Daughters for not imposing some obvious narrative on this beloved pop treat. I remembered the other day that I'm going to gawk at the GrizB two nights in a row next week, TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW! I think I might die a little.

Attractiveness is So Unattractive

The attractiveness that consumes the screens this season in the visual nuclear weapon that is Star Trek is horribly painful. Check out this mess:



If I were a fem-bot, my mechanical guts would have splat all over the computer screen centuries-ago. Zachary Quinto as Mr. Spock is so incredibly attractive, that it is actually ruining my life. It's like high school all over again. Thanks, ZQ.

I Love You But I've Chosen Noise

My favorite noise-bot Lex visited this week and it was the most fun I'd had in a long, long while. We went to No Fun Fest, a three-day ear-obliterating conference for the musically sadomasochistic. I've always been interested in music, but quickly found the structuring principles oppressive and counter-productive -- mostly because I've always been more interested in larger metaphysical questions about what it means to hear, the transcendental qualities of obsessive-compulsive repetition, and the beauty of our doomed impulses to mimic nature/attempt to pursue the naturalistic in technology/soul of machinery, thus my love affair with noise.

Noise is a hard sell, but it helps if you have the boyish charms of Dominick Fernow (noise alias: Prurient), the man behind Hospital Productions, both a label and a record boutique in the East Village. I wouldn't have had the courage to go in there if Lex hadn't paid me a visit, but I'm afraid that Fernow has ignited the fire in my inner-Tiger Beat, and it would be wise to keep my distance before an even more unhealthy obsession develops into complete hysteria (some of my co-workers would probably argue that this has happened already). It might also be wise to keep my distance because I'm pretty sure that Fernow's girlfriend could knock-me into next Sunday with those fetish boots she was rocking all weekend.



See what I mean? He's all dark and tortured, but meticulously groomed. Fernow will obviously be the end of me. Let's start a bet to see how long I can manage to stay out of his shop before going completely mad.