Prove My Love

Okay, so I'm going to try and buy your love. See, I made a little something for those of you who are regular readers. Including you lurkers. Yes, you. Did you think I couldn't see you hiding behind that shrubbery? Puh-lease. I got like superpowers and stuff.

I have 10 prizes that will go to the first 10 people to comment on any - I repeat any - posts starting... well, once this is posted. Just 10. Any post. The first 10 comments. Are we clear? Because if we're not, you probably should go see a doctor or something. Maybe that fall the other day messed up something in your brains?

Anyway, so here's the rules for getting one of these magic things that I'm giving away:

1. One per household. Don't try abusing the system Adamseseses. I know how you people operate. I am, as we say on the streets, "on to you."

2. If you're not set up through Blogger and decide to post anonymously, make sure to include who you are. I may have x-ray vision, lasers in my fingertips and control over the weather, but I am not, unfortunately, psychic. If you want your swag, you must introduce yourself.

3. If I find these prizes posted on Ebay, we will throw down. And it will be epic. And you will lose. I will explode you. Somewhere over Tokyo. It will not be pretty. These laser fingertips aren't for cuddling. They're for blasting. It's what they do. They blast.

4. The prizes will go to the first 10 people who comment. I'm pulling a "Tickle-Me Elmo" here and intentionally making these things scarce. I only have that many - again, for those of you in the slow class, this many [I am holding up all my fingers... just play along] 10, "X" for you Romans out there - so you can duke it out. To whomever makes comment #11, I'm sorry, but them's the rules. Better luck next time. Suck it up and walk it off and all that stuff they say in sports.

5. Uh, I guess that's it.

So, now that we've got the rules down, let's tell you what you're playing for, shall we? I can only play coy for so long. The cool thing you'll be getting for your precious little comments is this:

It's a mixtape. Well, a mix-CD but that doesn't sound as cool. 23 tracks, lovingly sequenced and culled from the worlds-famous Dylan Todd Massive Music Archive Project Initiative Thingy Project... Initiative. Each cover is hand -stitched, -titled and individually numbered for maximum collectibility. The special ingredient used is love. It's embedded in every zero and one by nanobots. That's tiny robots for those of you that aren't nerds. Tiny robots full of love. And wires. But mostly love.

It's a little thing I do for people I like - I make them mixtapes. And I like you. But only if you comment. But seriously, you'll want to comment. I make some good mixtape. My skills are legend.

So, there you go, my bid for buying your comment love. I'll post the winners when the CDs are all gone. Good luck. Let's keep it clean folks. No hitting below the belt or eye-gouging. Okay, some hitting below the belt. And maybe a teensy bit of eye-gouging. But only if it's funny.

Without further ado: Let the game begin... [I'm making that drumroll sound with my mouth and yeah, it does sort of sound like a helicopter, but I'm an artist not that guy from Police Academy that can make all those noises with his mouth, so get off my back, okay?]... NOW!

Oh, and sorry Candace, but you're exempt from this one. It wouldn't be fair, beings as we're all like romantic and whatnot. Sorry.

Let's Get Lost

Okay, so for those of you who aren't watching Lost because it's, well, a little complex (Caitlin...), now you have no reason no to.

"Why is that, Dylan?" you may ask. Well, I'll tell you. ABC ran a catch-up epidosde titled, "the Lost Survival Guide," where the show's producers, Damon & Carlton (we're on a first-name basis. Well, technically we're on a first syllable basis, but I figured you wouldn't understand if I referred to them as "Day," and "Car." We're tight like dat...) basically do a fairly good summation of the first two seasons as well as the beginning of season 3. They hit on all the major characters, sum up important mythology points and lay out the overall idea of the show. It's a really good crash course of the world of Lost.

So, to get caught up so you can be awesome - and so you can be prepared for this week's episode, "Stranger In A Strange Land," -
1) just head here,
2) cycle around until you see Lost,
3) click it and
4) select "the Lost Survival Guide," and
5) watch it.

Easy, right? You can also watch the last 2 episodes (which rocked, by the way) "Not In Portland," and "Flashes Before Your Eyes," from there as well, as they're not recapped in the "Survival Guide," though they were pretty rad.

And now you have no excuse for not being awesome.


* I would add that while this is good solution if you're wanting to just jump into Lost - which I am totally down with - it's much more rewarding to watch the series from the beginning. If you're planning on going back and watching it from the beginning, just know that some stuff will be a little - not a lot, but a little - spoiled for you. But it's okay because it's still teh awesome. Also, yes, I am totally in love with this show. It owns me.

** Title from Elliott Smith's posthumous and uneven final release, From A Basement On the Hill.

Get Back

So, my eMusic downloads refreshed on birthday eve and I hadn't posted about what I got this month yet, so here it is.

The Hackensaw Boys - Get Some

First off, this album brings to light a little-known fact about me: I am in love with bluegrass music. Well, at least when it's played as rockingly as these boys play it. I've tried to find similar bluegrass bands, i.e. ones that don't sound bo-ring and academic, ones that rock, but the only other band that's on par with the Boys would have to be the Old Crow Medicine Show,* whose Big Iron World I downloaded last month (And it's good. Maybe better than their debut, O.C.M.S. Tough call cuz it's a solid album. I mean, how can you hate on a band that has lyrics like "If you don't believe that cocaine's good/Ask Karl Rove or Elijah Wood"? - from their reworking of the traditional song "Take Whiff On Me," which, by the way, the White Stripes cover on their excellent live DVD, Under Blackpool Lights but this little parenthetical aside has really gone on too long, so I'll just stop. Okay. Done.).

Out of the two, I prefer the Boys, mainly because O.C.M.S. comes across as guys who have a love for the music, but aren't as tied to it as the Boys are. I mean, the Boys named their tour bus "the Dirty Bird," so they're legit as far as I'm concerned. They're O.C.M.S's smelly little brothers, I guess. We saw the Boys when they played between sets during the 2002 Unlimited Sunshine Tour and, well, I was blown away. I'm not unfamiliar with roots music, as my dad has a love for folk/country-tinged 70's rock (uh, my name's Robert Dylan, as in Bob Dylan fercryeye, and I own the entire Old 97's catalog, everything Ryan Adams has produced either solo or with Whiskeytown - including the sucky stuff like 29, wow, that album's boring - so yeah, I like a particular type of country music, I guess), but to hear this old, rootsy music delivered so forcefully, and with so much joy, well, I haven't been that moved by a type of music since I heard the first Clash album back in the day.

I mean, there they are, something like 8 guys all huddled around a single microphone singing songs about how Nashville broke their hearts and minds while they hammer away at banjos, mandolins, washboards, stand-up basses and the voices the God gave them. How can that not move you?

In fact going back to the Clash connection, bluegrass has a lot in common with punk music: It's immediate, street-level, real (when done right) and developed by lower-/working-class people to vent their frustrations with the world around them - whether it's by dancing as in the case of bluegrass, or well, beating the snot out of each other in the case of punk.

Anyway, is Get Some any good? Well, yeah. Of course. It's the Hackensaw Boys. I'm not going to call it a masterpiece (that would, however, be applicable to Keep It Simple, their 2002 release), but it's solid, dirty, rocking bluegrass that is guaranteed to put some pep in yr step and some pride in yr stride. And that's a fact.

A.C. Newman - The Slow Wonder

Let's be honest, this is, ostensibly another New Pornographers album. I mean, Neko Case is even all over the backing vocal tracks, and that's never a bad thing (Girl. Can. Sing. For. Reals.). In fact, I wish I'd heard it before I heard the last one from the N.P. - Twin Cinema. I probably would have been a little more immediately smitten by it rather than having to try really hard to look past the saggy bits for the throbbing muscle that lies beneath Cinema.

I guess a lot of why this album and Cinema don't click with me immediately has a lot to do with precedent. If you're going to produce two albums of mind-blowing, solid, unrelenting pop music (Mass Romantic and Electric Version), don't give me an album that's only half-full of aforementioned pop and expect me to warm to it stat.

That said, Wonder is a perfectly good album. Not my favorite album ever, but there's a lot of really good songs in here - "the Town Halo," "Miracle Drug," "On the Table," are all really good, and that's just off the top of my head. In any case, it's worth the listen whether or not you're a fan of Newman's other, more famous band.

Also, I should note that I think the cover is pretty cool.

M. Ward - The Transfiguration of Vincent

I've already gushed about M. Ward. He's just an amazing musician and if you haven't checked him out yet, well, you're a dirty, filthy Commie and you are hereby cut off. No more funny for you. Now come on, We're through. Close your browser and go sit in a corner somewhere and think about what you've done. No sobbing. This is your choice. It's hurting me more than it's hurting you. I like pie.

Just kidding. We're still homies.

But seriously, check him out if you haven't. This is the predecessor to his lauded (and rightly so) Transistor Radio, which was one of my favorite albums of recent years. It's a lot more polished and sure than his debut, The End Of Amnesia and even includes one of Ward's trademarked covers: a spooky rendition of David Bowie's "Let's Dance."

I am totally M. Ward's street team. Dude rules. Nuff said.

Anyway, so that's that. Three cheers for new music. If anybody out there wants a free eMusic trial, e-mail me and I will hook you up. Because I'm a homie like that. Ans because it's a cool service. And because I get free downloads if you sign up. Sorry, I know I have a problem, but... enable me.

Edit: When I was talking about good roots/bluegrass music, I forgot to mention the indomitable Langhorne Slim. I just put on his When the Sun's Gone Down album and it's some rollicking good stuff. Plus, dude's got a great name.

Letter Never Sent, Vol. 3

An open letter to the old guy whose tapered jeans were altogether too high and too tight:

I could totally see the outline of your junk. That's gross. Seriously, it looked like the album cover for Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones. Nasty. That strangling feeling you experience whenever you wedge yourselves into those stonewashed relics is your boys being crushed. Just break down and buy some jeans that were made some time in the last decade or so. The universe, your boys and I (especially I) thank you mightily.

Sincerely,
Dylan

P.S.: Chuck Norris, you are hereby exempt from this open letter. Keep on karate kicking drug dealers in them tight-old Wranglers. It's just too hilarious for you to stop. The universe desires, nay, demands you keep on kicking in them tightie-bluies. That is all.

Letter Never Sent, Vol. 2

An open letter to the girl I helped in the fitting rooms who kept caling me, "Sir":

What is this, the Army? Calling me "sir," is really unnecessary. "Your Majesty," will do just fine, or just "Milord," if you're into the whole brevity thing.

Sincerely,
Dylan

Letter Never Sent, Vol. 1

An open letter to the guy in the Chevy Tahoe with his hat on backwards and the Oakleys who couldn't just park his car and let his lady walk from there and instead made me wait behind him for his lady to get out and walk into Target:

Seriously, you parked like, 15 feet away. I promise, the exercise isn't going to kill her. In fact, given the size of her caboose, it would probably be a good thing.

Sincerely,
Dylan

P.S.: Also, hat on backwards? Really? Did you not get the memo that that's kind of stupid?

No One Knows I'm Gone

Okay, so I took my buddy, Batzorig Chimeddorj, to the Idaho Falls airport so he could pick up a rental car and head off to Denver to look for work. Bat's a swell guy and a great designer. Check out his website. See? Dude's got wicked Art Fu.

For the last few years, I have almost always had a class with Bat and he has consistently inspired me to try harder, to do better and to be better. He's always been a good friend and a good sounding board, helping turn my so-so ideas into something much better.

And now he's gone.

I'm sure I echo a lot of people's sentiments when I say that this signals the end of some sort of era, as Bat's become a sort of legend; a Mongolian art machine with a big smile and a warm heart.

True story: we were coming back from a portfolio review in Salt Lake. I was sitting next to Bat and we were discussing how we respond to art (he's more intellectually-based, I'm more of a gut-reaction, visceral type of guy) or something like that, and we're sitting behind Kelly Burgener, the Dean of the Art College and Scott Franson, aka, my favorite teacher ever. So it's March and Bro. Burgener's driving. It's getting late. For some reason, Burgener's got the fan running and the air's a bit cool.

It's also hitting me right in my crotch.

I try shutting the vent, but that only creates an annoying whine, so I decide to just take it. So I lean over and sort of whisper to Bat, "Man, this air's blowing right on my crotch." To which Bat responds - and we're sitting directly behind Burgener an Franson, mind you - rather loudly with the query "What is 'crotch?'" Both Franson and Burgener are cracking up at this point as I try to delicately explain to Bat what the word means without upsetting the young girls in the back seat. "Is it your neck?" Bat asks.

"No. Uh, lower."

"Your belly?"

"No. Lower.

[pause]

"Oh."

And that, my dear readers, is the story of how I taught my Mongolian friend the true maening of the word "crotch." Awkward, but funny.

So, travel well, Bat. You'll be missed. I know you'll do well. Keep in touch and best of luck, gangster. Peace.

Geek USA

Okay, so I keep feeling the need to apologize for this, so here goes: I watched the new Sci-Fi channel Battlestar Galactica miniseries, the one that feeds into the new series...

And I liked it. Like, a lot.

Now don't misunderstand, it's fairly nerdy sci-fi stuff, (cooler than anything Star Trek related, but still...) but I freaking ate it up. With a doggone spoon.

I remember thinking the 80's series was petty boss, with that robotic dog thing that looked sort of like Barkley from Sesame Street reworked buy the guys who built Robocop, but then again, I was in love with shows like the Dukes of Hazzard, Knight Rider and the Fall Guy, (not to mention the Greatest American Hero, a.k.a.: "That show was awesome!") so I don't know if pre-teen Dylan is a good arbiter of boss-ness. In fact, he wasn't. I'll just settle that here and now.

Basically, this show is Star Wars Lite (the best parts of the classic - starship dogfights - and prequels - political intrigue) with a little bit of Blade Runner/"Second Variety" Phillip K. Dick "What defines someone as 'alive?'" postmodern identity politics thrown in for some complexity. The acting's competent, the writing's slick and the production design is - for a basic cable-produced sci-fi show - pretty impressive.

So, basically, I'm hooked. Season one disc one is next in the queue and well, it's on like Donkey Kong. I'll try not to bore you with any posts about its radness, but, well, I can't promise anything. Now let's go blast some frakkin' Cylons.

(I'll Love You) Till the End Of the World

Happy Valentine's day. Hope you have a good one, but remember that Saint Valentine would want you to keep it safe and sane. I mean, he did chase all the snakes out of Ireland so we could all be safe, right? Of was the Saint Patrick? Which one's the patron saint of chronic back pain? I'm so confused.

Anyway, it's been an awesome day. You can see our cards for each other over at Candace's blog here and here. I don't want to get all mushy here on the internets, but I will say that I loves my lady. She is the bestest that ever was, is and will be.

Spider In the Snow

Question: how awesome was Lost last week?! With the crazy room and the Juliet stuff and the Kate going to shoot the guy in the kneecap and the crazy room and did I mention the crazy room?

Answer: super duper awesome.

*Title from the Dismemberment Plan's Emergency & I.