The Worst DJ and The Result of Too Many Rom-Coms

The Worst DJ

It’s easy to be a good DJ, but it’s even easier to be a bad one. I’m talking about playing all the right songs at all the wrong times. Spinnin’ the Thong Song at Little Timmy’s communion or droppin’ the 1998 hit single from Will Smith, Miami in Miami. This is the road to being a bad DJ, but why stop there when you can be so much worse. Yep, it’s finally time to bust out that wolf coat and dad cologne to dress the part. Maybe become a dread head or get a perm; hair-do or don’t. It’s all part of your funk and it smells so bad. Similarly, it’s time to work on those moves. Yeah, you’ve got the wave, but what about the tsunami? Take a splash with a quick dip and plug your nose, or throw callbacks to all your favorite movie bust-a-moves (Pee Wee tequila dance ya’ll). Don’t spin records, spin CDs and hit on every girl you see. You're doing great, but don’t forget to keep asking the crowd to bring you a jagerbomb.

The Result of Too Many Rom-Coms

How does it happen? A random bump, some snuggling, and then living with the ones we think are right. Is it trial and error or just giving up? Finally settling and giving into mediocrity with the mindset that it’s better than being alone. We stitch the patterns we hate. It could be better, but we compromise on the one thing that we have all the say in - love. It doesn't have to be like that. Romance is not dead; it’s still breathing. It’s reaching out for your hand with its trembling one, but it’s exhausted and tired. Not from waiting, but from trying.

Romance and World Music

What happened to romance?  Did it die, or do I still misunderstand it?  I feel like today's romance is a drunk girl in a bar.  I want more.  Maybe I listen to too much shoegaze; I do.  Maybe I watch too many sappy romance flicks, check.  I'm sorry, but I want what these mediums portray.  A happy couple, through good and bad, living together, leaning together, and talking through the difficult parts.  A tub of popcorn and a cheesy movie, that's my kind of date night!  Sex gets old, real quick.  Sometimes I'd rather just jack off; I know myself better than anybody.  Every time I date a girl, I grow farther and farther apart from this so called "romance".  I'm losing touch, and that scares me.  I don't want to become apathetic, I want to feel something real.  I don't mind crying, but I haven't done it in years.  I'm feeling a bit empty.  A bit deserted.  I've never told a girl I love her, and I'm scared I won't be able to when I find her.

Indie folk, world music, whatever the fuck people call it, sucks real bad live.  I'm talking about those bullshit bands that show up at a photo shoot with a ukulele and some African tribe getup.  Beurit or Gogol Bordello are good examples.  I've seen both live at Bonnaroo, and it was just as I expected.  Slow, boring and pretentious.  "No, our band is far better and more advant-garde than any other band in the land, and we'll prove it with an overabundance of brass and tambourine players."  These bands also seem to be a callout, or maybe it was the triangle dinner-bell they were playing, to all the hippies at the festival.  Here they come, with their hula-hoops and dirty skirts, marching away from their nesting tree in an unbathed routine that can only be described as communal.  Yeah, all a hot summer day needs is more stinky people.  As soon as this gathering arrives they move from foot to mexican blankets, unknowingly knitted by kids in a factory.  During one show, a girl looks at me and notices my grim disposition. "Aren't they great?"  No chick, they are not great I explain.  No chick, they only sound good cause you're on drugs, I explain.


I probably shouldn't be writing to the internet when I get real drunk alone.

Picture of day and new favorite meme.