I was at a loss as to what to write about today, honestly I was. I wasn't really feeling like anything. Michael Jackson is acquited and even the woo-hoo hubbub surrounding his acquital was over with. The media just stopped caring so quickly! Sure I could complain about politics, but even that's become cliche and most likely, to anyone who reads this at least, I would be just preaching to the choir. So I was prepared to return to my computer and sit with this empty text box saring me in the face, after all I was fairly determined to write something tonight. Leave it to my father, bless his heart, to say something that irked me and got me ready to bitch to the facless masses, with the exception of you Paul....you get a face.
Tonight, alongside my parents, I attended a screening of Sneakers, a film which traces the gym shoe from i's humble beginnings to its current status as a fashion staple. Much of the movie dealt with the ideas of image and how concious we are of it today. From so-called "cool-hunters" on Melrose to Japanese kids coming to a town square knowing they would most likely be photographed, the idea of image is a big part of the shoe culture. These cool-hunters by the way, are the most shallow fuckers on the planet. They are so immage-concious that they know nothing else to make a business out of it, looking for uniqueness and whoring it out to the masses thus basically destroying any idea of uniqueness. Or perhaps they are the fulcrum which keeps trendsetters on their toes, constantly pushing them to do more and more bizarre things. Either way, they are materialistic idiots. But back, to my real point, which is what my father said to my mother and I, I apologize for digressing.
In my post-film discussion with my parents, my father said that he was not image concious at any time in his life. My mom gets points because she admitted that in her youth she did care what she wore, but my father wouldn't budge, using his same bullshit song and dance, "We were too poor to care." First of all this argument is bullshit, especially after watching a film where black people who are waaaaaay worse off than he ever was talking about their being aware of how they project themselves to the world around them. I said this and he, of course, got grumpy. Then, thankfully, my mother brought up the '60's. I've seen him then, and he was definately aware of style. The man had a fu-manchu and a mane of hair. He readily admits to identifying with CSNY's song "Cut My Hair"!!! If that's not image-concious I'm not sure I know what it is, then. It also seemed that he didn't want to admit that hippie culture was a style concious one! Of course it was, it's just that they focused on looking as disheveled as possible. Just because those drugged-up, dirty fucks don't spend $900 on a pair of shoes doesn't make them any less aware of how they present themselves to the public. If that was the case you could have a high-and-tight and three-piece suit and still be a hippie, which we all know is bullshit and could never happen.
Image is impossible to escape, no matter how poor or rich you are. Only people with serious mental impairment don't give a shit about their appearence. Hell, and my own father, went from being long haired hippie dude to what I think was his most hilarious style choice ever. I only thought of this on my drive home and he was way to grumpy later for me to raise this issue. But anyways, I've seen photographs from the early '80's where he and my mom are totally prepped out. He got a pink seater around his neck, a polo shirt, khaki pants, and matching socks!!! THE SOCKS MATCH THE SWEATER!!!! AWESOME!!! My mom matched my father except her sweater/sock combo is yellow. I wish I could have had that picture in my back pocket to just pull out when he pulled his "I was never image concious" schtick to say "YOU LIE!!!"
No one ever seems to want to admit that they care about how they present themselves to the world. What is so wrong with that? I want to look good. As long as people judge by looks, I will care about how I walk out of the house. This doens't mean I'll go out and buy the newest limited edition low-dunks, but it does mean I'll put on some good lookin kicks and present myself in a way that I want the world to pervcieve me. Image isn't money based, it is simply a fact of the world around us which inescapable and should be embraced so you don't end up looking like an ass when someone calls you out on your denial. Because, frankly, if you deny your being aware of it and you aren't mentally retarded or psychotic, you are a damn dirty liar and, permit me to say, pants on fire don't look cool, they just fucking hurt.

As far as music goes, let us see what I dug up amongst the fields today. First I'll throw out TV on the Radio's Young Liar's EP. It's good and has a version of "Staring at the Sun" on it with a good vocal intro to it that makes the song spoooookier. Next up is Pretty Girls Make Graves first albumy type thing. Worth it just for the sheer kickassness that is the first track, "Speakers Push The Air." Thirdly, some good time punk rock and roll alongside Ireland's Stiff Little Figners, with another brutal killer of a track "Suspect Device."

TV on the Radio -- Young Liar's EP
Pretty Girl's Make Graves -- Good Health
Stiff Little Fingers -- Inflammable Material (password: alcoholdepository)


Enjoy, I think my rant was alright today, I think I 'm almost getting bloggin down. I write, you read, and you are forced to enjoy because there is free music at the end!!