Dear Ultimate Being,

If I ever attempt to begin a "home theater project" such as this one, please strike me down without mercy.



It has been a constant source of amazement for me how people decorate their homes sometimes. You can tell the above guy is not married, or he is dating a Photon manager time-warped from the 80's. No disrespect, though, props for the effort. That said, I am in the process of buying furniture for my new apartment. Shit's expensive. Granted, I am looking at the yuppie furniture store catalogs, but I could easily rack up 10k for just two rooms. Looks like I'm gonna have to put off the nice stuff for a while. Maybe just one thing...

Gretchen was playing this tight electro-pop yesterday while we were sitting on the stoop, a band called Ratatat (who apparently toured with Interpol). Fans of silky-smooth gated synths on an epic level should check this out. It makes we want to get down on the dance floor and do "the Worm" for 45 minutes straight. People who know me and my rendition of the "the Worm" should reckanize that is dangerously tight.

Well...I'm going to go check out some bellydancing. Afterwards, Black Heart Procession and Calexico. Then, wake up and move.
link to this post   5:21 PM by Trey | (0)
I was listening to, and playing music that I wrote being played exactly how I wanted it to sound. I was behind the drums, but everything came together perfectly after only 2 hours of playing together. There is a part where everyone drops out except for a extra warm clean guitar, at full volume, playing a lonely waltz at half-time. The bass guitar comes in about thirty seconds later, playing under the melody. It is a "quiet" part, quiet enough to hear the low frequencies vibrating my snares like twenty shivering souls. My arms got so heavy from feeling the sadness of the song that I perceived everything to in slow-motion. The pace of the melody builds, the shimmering lead guitar dances around you, and finally I get to pummel the peacefulness into oblivion. I feel like I am beating off the hounds of hell with each two-armed cymbal crash. Then the waltz breaks into a gallop (reminded me of the part in The Return of the King where Sam has to carry Frodo the last few steps up Mt. Doom). At the peak of the discord, there is a roll and a crash, and the guitars fade out with a mighty kraangg, as though a mountain was climbed only to fall off the cliff on the other side.

I believe playing music is about as close to having a spirtual experience as I will ever have.
link to this post   1:03 PM by Trey | (0)
I ran into my high school Latin teacher last night at a party. I didn't think he would remember me, but we end up talking for over an hour. That was an hour well spent.

I told him of my friends that were leaving town. People I've recently met that are moving to better places and higher altitudes. "It's not that I'm sad that they are leaving. I wouldn't ask them to stay." He looked at me for a few moments. "No, surely not. You want them to ask you to come with them."

Towards the end of the party, Prof must have seen me eyeing one of the last pieces of leftover tiramisu. He snatched it up with his free hand and practically tossed it at me. "Carpe Cakeum," he said.

Minou, checkin me out
link to this post   10:39 AM by Trey | (0)
One of my favorite hobbies as a New Orleanian is racing streetcars (aka TROLLEYS for you foreigners). When I am drunk or bored it seems to be the most hilarious thing in the world, so if you are athletically inclined and you wear sensible shoes, you might try it out.

Target a well-packed streetcar, the more people the better. Our trolleys (aka STREETCARS for you locals) move relatively slowly at all times, but if they are loaded down, they struggle. Anyway, if the car is full, they won't stop for you at all, unless they let someone off at the same time. This is your key to getting your audience. Run along the side of the streetcar as though you want to have a conversation with the people hanging out the windows. This means a slow jog, for the most part, but the frequent stops keep the average speed to about 15mph. As people start to notice your plight, they will inevitably start to cheer for you. If you can keep your speed consistent with the car (stopping for lights and to let people off), you will soon have the entire car screaming. If you actually want to get on the streetcar, this is a good time to do it. If not, then KEEP RUNNING. Jog in place at the stops. Dance if you want to.

Boom...Just dance if you feel like it, dude. Just fucking dance. Dance the way you want to dance and if anyone tries to clown, fucking dance them into outer space where there isn't even air or anything.

Anyway, I made it from Canal St. to Napolean before I realized how drunk I was. I ran down a side street to visit the little vomit boy's room, and when I came back, the streetcar was gone.
link to this post   9:13 AM by Trey | (0)
As Missy, my friend of yore, once told me, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me." I have been repeating this epithet in my head relentlessly for the last couple hours, like some sort of self-reproaching mantra. As Greg, the guy who installed my car stereo a month ago, once told me, "Take off the detachable face at night. Uh, subwoofer." This old wive's saying dates back for centuries, and it also rings clear in my head.

Well, the Bastard did it again. My stereo was jacked. Again. I even made a special trip at 2:30am this morning to go out to my car, get my iPod, remove the detatchable face and...bring it inside???

Nay, my friends, nay. "It should be safe in the glove box. I even locked it, see. Now my stereo is safe along with my insurance card, some Tic-Tics, and the dickfish leftovers from last night."

Bullshit. Cockmunch. If the thief is out there reading this (and I know he is), then I hope he knows that he left the little remote control to the stereo in the car. That's right, bitch. I've still got it and you can't have it.
link to this post   9:04 AM by Trey | (0)
I am a selfish person by my own standards.

People my age (young adults):
Why does everyone go around trying to be the best at everything? It takes a raised level of maturity to realize that you can't master one skill without sacrificing another. I think creators of role-playing games have been trying to pound this fact of life into our heads for years. The true skill is learning to balance your talents and weaknesses. Or perhaps, to admit your weaknesses and understate your talents.

By my standards, I know few people my age that I would consider unselfish.
link to this post   1:00 PM by Trey | (0)
Last year, Voodoo Fest had the White Stripes, the Stooges, Queens of the Stone Age, A Perfect Circle, Quintron. Marilyn Manson, too. It was great.

Two observations: First, I'm sure having tons of corporate radio money helps bring these bands in, but at least they have pretty good taste. Second, I'm more excited about what I know of this year's lineup than all of last year combined. File under: Pixies, The.

Favorite Pixies Song With A Cowbell: U-Mass
link to this post   10:03 AM by Trey | (0)
"Oh hey everybody! LOOK AT ME! I can't print from my computer. I'm sooo important that I can write a 500 word article about how I can't print and how everyone cares about that problem and will be talking about it around the water cooler this morning. Now I'm going to post this using the ugly blogging tool that I designed that doesn't even validate with XHTML standards."
- Jeffery Zeldman's inner dialogue

"Oh hey everybody! I'm really hot, and probably not the best actress, but my favorite thing to do is dress up in period themed bondage gear and fight vampires and werewolves in horrible action movies. Watch out for my accent, because I trained with a linguist and a vocal coach (named Cheech and Chong) to prepare me for my role as a Transylvanian pirate cum circus performer! You rlike vat you zee?"
- Kate Beckinsale's inner dialogue

"Oh hey everybody! I've got some news about my band, the TRASHIES, and I'm going to make fun of my dad online, and then maybe bitch about work a little. Then I'm going to try to sound introspective, or even intellectual. Or maybe I will just post a picture of myself without a shirt on. You can see my nipples!"
- My inner dialogue
link to this post   8:57 AM by Trey | (0)
Trashies playing a show tomorrow (Thursday) at the Mermaid Lounge with the Kickass and Wadsworth. It will be a show to remember.

Overheard at the Tulane Social Pool...
Girl 1: We should totally work out all the time this summer and get six packs.
Girl 2: Totally.
Girl 1: But not too much, I want to keep my ass.
Girl 2: Definately. I've never had an ass before.

Then they went on to discuss what they thought of the people that cleaned their pools at their parents' houses in New York. No lie.
link to this post   9:35 AM by Trey | (0)
My father did an internet search on "(his name) is a hermaphrodite," and apparently my site came up. He called me this afternoon to let me know that he was uncomfortable with people seeing this information posted on the internet because:

1. "It is out there on the internet for everyone to see."
When people read something on the internet, they believe it. I mean, shit, it's the internet.

2. "It's false information."
Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not very concerned whether or not something is 'true' or not when it comes to what I put on this site.

Notwithstanding these arguments, I have extend my merciful blogging hand towards my old man. I have edited my original post accordingly on the condition that he never looks at my website or mentions it to me ever again. AND THAT'S A PROMISE, YEEEAAAAH BITCH!

Note: If you were wondering, my father can count his naughty bits on one finger, not including the finger. I guess that is just one...a naughty bit. He's not really a hermaphrodite, but he's got some nice boobs pectorals!
link to this post   5:25 PM by Trey | (0)