the kids have had their say

Saw “American Hardcore” last night.

It brought me back a couple of years, to the days of my heavy infatuation with the commonly recognized hardcore greats, Black Flag in particular. I have very vivid memories of listening to the Nervous Breakdown ep on a portable record player in the park, in absolute awe. There were other bands, but it was mainly Black Flag that hit me. and they sure did hit me hard.

Of course, during that time in my life I wasn’t the happiest person and this is why, I think, after watching the movie:

Hardcore was devoid, almost, of any intillectual meaning. Its only value lay in the emotion behind it the music. Hardcore ideals were founded on anger and hatred (the two things I avoid like plague these days) and it seems like few of the hardcore “philosophers” were very intelligent.

From what I’ve read in interviews, listened to in lyrics, so forth, the idealogy of hardcore was mostly either way the hell off base or even shallower than the hippies. You get nowhere from hating and dehumanizing your adversaries, from glorifying adversity with the majority of humans. You watch this movie, look at Keith Morris sitting in front of his goddamn swimming pool saying “I hated my job, I hated my parents, I hated the cops, I hated school” and you think “It’s just a bunch of whining kids!”

Give me revolution summer any day. Although I’ve got a funny story about that: a friend of my dad’s who went to see the movie afterwords, was voicing his dissillusionment with Mackaye, saying he’d been to the dischord house and witnessed him giving the same damn tour of the basement (“come here, I want you to see something. This is where it all happened”) three times.

But if anyone’s got a right to be overly earnest and proud, it’s that guy.

some others’ words that have peirced me deep in some way or other:

“And I shall ride my chariot through your streets and cry / well it’s me and I’m dyin tonight and I don’t know why / and you shall take me strongly in your arms again / I won’t much remember that I ever felt the pain”

“The vagabond who’s rapping at your door / is standing in the clothes you once wore”

“A man in a red shirt can neither hide nor retreat”

“I concede every policeman his humanity / judging him by what he does to me and for me / the only pigs I know are pigs /and the long haired guys wearing love beads aren’t hippies / they are long haired guys wearing love beads”

“They shot him five times”

“and I shall never grow so old again”

the only problem is that the text shows up a little too big

There’s a Blast Wagon show this wednesday. I’m psyched, doubly so because he’ll playing new things I haven’t heard. Triply so beacause I hear he’s gonna cover the Magnolia song “Bad Luck Lullabye” ( I think that’s the name, at least ). Ogami just got a show set up for dec 8 in the South Eugene auditorium. That’ll be cool because we’ll be able to play as loud as we damn-well desire.

Last night I finished recording the album I’ve been working on. I’m pretty excited about that. I just figured out a good song-queueue for it.

Ohgami show this satourday. Also exciting. My hands are mended.

But the real question is this: why can’t I stop watching these goddamn Iron Maiden Youtube Covers?

Many Rivers to Cross

Like the walkmen cover of the Harry Nillson conver of the Jimmy Cliff song.

so, I’m hip: they ask you if you’re hip. Their definition of hip is: having a worldpress. I’ll never get over my fascination with hipness. loathing? yes. an unhealthy fascination. the world of consumable culture can really get me down. “indie rock culture” can really get me down. I need to learn how to not care

maddy said the beetle died. “so it goes.”

first ogami practice in some time. I just got back from it. Due to the lack of drumming in my recent life, my hands are now punctuaded by bloody circles of flesh: old, thick callouses partly torn of. on the one hand: I feel very “punk.” On the other hand: I can’t grip things like pencils and brooms. I can type fine. here I am.

my girlfren can draw like a real pro.

ok, I’ll “publish” this now.

terra, terra, firma, terra, firma,

My ma just, from the other udder from the other room just said, on the phone “it’s hard to be an animal in Costa Rica.”

I looked at my email and it said “new friendster message from (insert some female name here). I said “well, I started this firndster and haven’t yet come back to it, ‘what the hell I may as well try.’” I went there and (insert female name) had sent me a message, lookin for love. I said I already had love, and that internet spamming is gae and that I was going to do a friendster blog.

I was thwarted in theattempt, but buzzing from candy, coffee and volunteer work (it’s halloween) I remained detirmined to do the thing I’d so slightly scoffed at: to blog.

I came here: my mom and patrick have them with this fancy webpage. I chose a setting that makes it look dignified, my blog. It fits with all the Nate Hawthorne I’ve been digging on.

I scoffed at blogs then, but mainly in denial of this fact: I’m in love with talking (or writing) and doubly so when it’s about my own self. We’ll see how it goes, we will.

so here it is: my highschool involves many painful halloween costumes and some good ones. some people, girls mainly, and underclassmen(/women) at that, used halloween today as an excuse to look sleazy, you know: underage cleavage and fishnets. It was rough.

one lad had the costume thing licked however. He was short and rather portly, with glassed and curly dark hair. He wore a dark blue cloak, a white cowboy hat, a suit and carried with him a terrifying bird mask: white, like a yellow-beaked seagull. He walked with an earnest, puffy-chested air of abs’lute self assurance and dignity. He made the hell out of my school day.

I did a heart shift of volunteer work at food for lane county’s kitchen. It was my first time and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I’m practically shivering with latent excitement from the wealth of people and activity. that and the countless cups of crap coffee. I’ll go back as often as I can, I think.

I’m very close to finishing the debutt album of my “solo-project:” a Cetain Kind. There’s already an ep in existence, but the album’s going to be considerabley better. even though I think I use the same two chords oftener that I should. and I’m a shit guitar player. and I’m recording it myself, which a nudder skill I come far from excelling at. and I’m still learning how to sing. and there are no drums. and . . .

my real band, the one I play drums in (i’m a dedcent drummer, at least compared to my skill at other instruments) is playing a show soon: 11.11.06. the band: Ogami. doubtless whoever’s reading this knows about vagabonds, the previous band (sarcasm). Well, Ogami is the next step up. this’ll be ogami’s second show, and a farewell to our first batch of songs. (max jesse and I have always gotten tired of songs very quick. every couple months we discard all our songs and start anew.)

all information for everything music I take part in is here: freewebs.com/rattigorn

pleas visit it.

I’m done now: as I type i bend my left pinky at an unlikely angle and it’s really starting to hurt.

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