8.30.2003 Adam and I edited film until seven in the morning, at which point we finished and could accordingly fall asleep. (I often use the word 'accordingly' entirely unnecessarily ((three adverbs in a row!)) just because I like the way it fits into many sentences). This was the first time that the show tape (that is, the tape of videos that is projected on a forty-foot screen in front of a crowd three-hundred) has ever been finished twelve hours before showtime. For the last show, we actual ran the show off of two tapes--the second of which was made while the first was being shown. I catalog these mistakes partly so that I may, as an old man, look back at what could be construed as my prime and take comfort that these behaviors are not the product of an aging mind, but that they've always existed. That's right, old man, you've always been a forgetful, procrastinating screw-up.
8.29.2003 A few of my closest friends and I are putting on a really fantastic comedy show in almost exactly twenty-four hours, and if you're in the upstate New York area, I highly recommend you come. The show will be free and fantastic.
Saturday, August 30th @ 9 PM Bard College Campus Center Annandale-on-Hudson, NY 12504
8.28.2003 Keeping in mind that I have yet to find a home, and accordingly no convenient place to set up a computer, you'll have to excuse me for such hurried posts. However, I now have at least one job, possibly two--and one can only hope that a home will soon follow.
8.25.2003 A post every day and I'm still out? This is some bullshit, man.
I would like to appeal my technical knock-out on the following grounds: 1. New content has been posted on my site every single day since the beginning of the contest, satisying both the primary condition of the YLTLSWC, and the declaration that spawned said challenge. 2. It was a technical knock-out based on a stupid rule that was openly debated, though never formally decided upon, and it should have been deleted ten days ago, but wasn't due to my own laziness. 3. Had anyone else suffered the same misfortune, but still managed to fulfill the 24-hour timestamp requirement, I imagine I would have simply ignored the incident and changed the rule, just as we did with the power outage that rendered some incapable of posting. However, as a moderately-fair litigator, I am not going to ammend a rule based only on my own misgivings.
I would also like to argue against my own appeal on the following grounds: 1. Rules are rules! It was explicitly stated that "the substitute may not be another contestant." Is Raizin a contestant? Yes, yes he is. So you're out. That was simple. 2. You said "there will be no exceptions and no second chances." An appeal sounds like a request for an exception. So don't you ever, ever, ever call yourself a moderately-fair litigator again. Asshole. 3. Why are you bringing Brendan into this? That was a regional power outage. You went to see "Freaky Friday"! To consider those circumstances comparable is laughable at best.
1. This is Raizin pretending to be Ben. As you can imagine, if this were actually Ben, I would have thought of a more roundabout to say it than just that. Like I'd start with, "When I was in sixth grade, everyone had pogs except for me," and then in a few sentences somehow link that back to how I can't update my webpage tonight because I'm seeing Freaky Friday with Joel, so instead Raizin has to do it for me. Since Raizin's not Ben though, all you get is "This is Raizin pretending to be Ben".
2. "What's sketch comedy?" she asked me. And of course, when I say "she asked me" what I really mean is that I have this conversation several times a week. "Is that like Whose Line Is It Anyway or something?" "Well, we do stuff like that, but we also do sketches, like Kids In The Hall, or The State." "What state?" "Iowa." "Really?" "No, I was making a joke. The State is a sketch comedy group." "I still don't know what that means." "Monty Python?" "Oh... I've heard of them..." "Saturday Night Live." "Oh! So do you guys do like President Bush impressions, and stuff like that?" "Yes. Conover does a mean Dick Cheney."
8.23.2003 Things That Do Not Yet Exist On The Internet, But Will In The Future: 1. The song from the Stevie Wonder cameo episode of the Cosby Show. In that episode, Stevie remixed a bunch of recordings he made of the actors and actresses talking, and made a song out of it. This scene went on for what must have been fifteen minutes, and was unbearably boring. You could tell that Bill had other plans that day, because he was in the episode for about eight seconds. I think he and the writers probably went out drinking. Anyway, I can't find that song anywhere on the internet, however I am fully aware that at some point in the (most likely near) future I will be able to find it with ease.
Websites That I Wish Existed: 1. RateThisPotentialMate.com. The idea behind this website would be that you rate your ex-girlfriends or ex-boyfriends in a number of different categories, so that their future potential mates might have fair warning as to what they're getting into. I don't know if I agree with my own idea or not, but I certainly find it interesting. Lots of girls are crazy, but hide it extremely well. This site would be the internet equivalent of blinking your brights at oncoming traffic to alert them of a speed-trap or a deer in the road. Mates could be assessed on all sorts of things, from compassion to fidelity and physical stamina to physical assault. And in a hypthetical world where this website had a noticeable effect, the effect would be to encourage the traits that women encourage in men and men encourage in women, in a Darwinian sense. It's an interesting idea. 2. UsedStaplers.com. I'm just tired of paying retail prices for office supples.
Notes To Myself That I Found Written On A Scrap Of Paper In My Wallet That Mean Nothing To Me Now: 1. "Dog breath." 2. "Different styles of chewing." Huh?
Things I Have Decided To Buy As Soon As I Get A Well-Paying Job: 1. A big empty house. For the last fews days the rest of my family has been away, and I have had the entire house to myself. I forgot how much I enjoy living alone under such circumstances. I thought getting a single in my dorm would be the sweet life, because I would finally be able to live my own life without sharing half my space, but it turns out that I can't really fit my life into a dorm room. However, I have absolutely no trouble fitting it in a large, empty house. At school, if I get tired of the room I'm in, I have no choice but to go somewhere with other people. But in this house, if I get tired of my room, there are a dozen rooms to be in. Not that I've been in any more than three, but you get the point. In conclusion, the house that I will buy with my well-paying-job-money will have to have at least three rooms. 2. An Ipod. Every day I go on eBay to see if I can snag a good deal on one of the 30GB models, even though I don't have enough money to buy an ipod sweatshirt.
Sweatshirts That Probably Don't Exist: 1. Ipod sweatshirts. Not that I'd want one anway.
8.22.2003 Should I hate Lisa Kudrow? Or should I just hate Lisa Kudrow fans? Does she want to make movies like "Marci X," or is she just cashing-in on an existing market? And even if the latter is the case, is that not an acceptable reason to detest her?
(Later in life, after I meet Lisa Kudrow but before one of our mutual friends mentions to her that I have a website, I am going to have to go trolling through my archives to find and delete this post.)
Of all the checks in my assorted sampler checkbook, I think this definitely has to be my favorite. Granted, I prefer to pay for things online. And granted, I've actually only written two checks. And granted, one of those two checks was for soy sauce. I guess I just feel ridiculous writing currency values across the face of a kitten. But the gang of Mystery Inc.! Now that's a different story altogether! I mean, just look at the look on Fred's face, or the way almost everyone is touching each other. Now that's an image I want smiling back at me while I'm spending money.
8.19.2003 1. A midnight conversation at a New Jersey gas station "Excuse me, but my friend and I noticed you have a diplomat license plate--are you the diplomat?" "Yes, I am!" he replied merrily with a hispanic accent. "Could you settle an argument we're having?" "I can certainly try." "So, can you technically do whatever you want?" "Excuse me?" "I'm sorry, I said that wrong. Uhh...the whole 'diplomatic immunity' thing--what exactly is the deal with that?" "Oh, that," he said, laughing. "Nobody ever uses that." "But, technically..." "I cannot be committed for any crime," he said, speaking slowly and proudly. "Huh. Wow. So you could just kill me right now if you wanted to." "Yes. But I am not going to."
Once the contest begins, the failure of a contestant to abide by each of the following rules (except for Rule #3, which is bullshit) will automatically disqualify the contestant from the remaining portion of the competition. There will be no exceptions and no second chances (because "challenges" should be hard).
1. Any sort of new content constitutes a post. This includes, but is not limited to, the posting of photographs, drawings, or music. 2. There is no minimum length for a post. Even a single sentence constitutes a satisfactory post. And if you're really lame, even a word counts. 3. YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE YO LA TENGO LATE-SUMMER WEBLOG CHALLENGE. Read that sentence out loud, it's adorable! 4. Contestants must post every day. This is relative to the poster's timezone, and measured by their 24-hour timestamp. 5. In the case that a contestant cannot gain access to a computer on a certain day or period of days, they can elect a substitute to post for them. However, this substitution must be made public knowledge, and the substitute may not be another contestant.
The challenge will continue until midnight on December 31st, or until every member has been disqualified--which ever comes sooner. The prize will be awarded only to those who complete the challenge.
"Yes. Hi. Do you know where I could find 'Happiness'?" "'Happiness'?" "I looked for it myself, but alas I could not find it." "Are you sure you looked in the right place?" "Lo! The sleepless nights I have lied awake debating those same cruel words!" "Yeah. Um. I'll look in the computer." "Sweet, compassionate soul, do what you would, I am at your will." "Yeah, it says we don't have it. And it also says--" "Do mine ears deceive mine eyes? Forgive me, my love, for silencing you with anything but a kiss, but have we not found the object of our search here in our union?" "And it also says that your DVD copy of 'Swimfan' is three days overdue. You owe us six dollars."
8.14.2003 Maybe we shouldn't let non-contestants post for us
I, Benjamin Colman Mekjavich Popik, hereby resign from the Yo La Tengo Late-Summer Weblog Challenge. I think I'm really a disgrace to my own contest, and anyone but me deserves to win. That is all. Good night.
Two weeks ago, in a dream, I realized that I actually don't need to eat or drink in order to stay alive. Since then, my life has been significantly easier. For instance, with the exception of the sink and shower, I no longer have use for the bathroom, and have appropriately turned my toilet, lid closed, into a miniature, porcelain desk. I keep my inkjar and quills on the lid of the tank, it's absolutely adorable. For comic effect, I printed out cliche work-space posters and taped them to the face of the tank ("You don't have to be crazy to work here, but it sure helps!"), and for the first time in my life, I have my own office.
This morning, passing my desk on the way to the shower, I pushed down on the handle for good luck--when you're superstitious and you spend the majority of your day in a bathroom, you adopt uncommon habits--and to my horror, my desk began to overflow with water. This was quite perplexing as, (A) I haven't used the toilet in weeks, it had no reason to be jammed, and (B) I had just moments before begun to write up plans to drain the water from the bowl and put in its place the same volume in Skittles. Imagine, reader, the speed with which I worked to disassembled my office, for fear of losing precious documents to the overflowing wrath of a testy toilet.
As quickly as I could, reciting out loud to myself the steps one must remember in fixing a toilet, I pushed aside my printer, on the counter by the sink, to make room for my quills and ink, which had rested precariously between me and the task at hand. Having dealt with those obstructions, I removed the porcelain lid just in time to feel the splash of water on my work moccasins. I plunged my hands into the tank, grabbing what chains I could and lifting them with urgency for fear of further overflow. This quieted my desk, but left me in the difficult position of having to suspend the machinery with my own hands. Switching hands so as to free the limb that was closest to my filing cabinet, I reached, as well as I could, for a stapler to wedge between the various connected parts of the appliance's machinery--an endeavour that would, were I successful, free my hands from having to perform the same task manually. Finding it out of my grasp, I settled for a plastic medicine bottle, which I found I could remove without much difficulty from the first aid kid--a mandatory and expensive installment in any office and for once a welcome one in mine.
I managed to safely wedge the bottle into the tight metal workings of the tank, which thankfully afforded me the opportunity to rest my hand, but to my dismay the cap of the bottle, however difficult to remove when one is in pain, sprung forth from the bottle as if without even the slighest bit of resistance. To my further horror, this motion loosened the bottle from its station, allowing it to fall into the tank--soiling my collection of pain killers and again allowing the bowl to overflow with water. At this point, the bottom-half of the stack of papers in my outbox were ruined. Annoyed, several moments estimating the amount of time it would take me to painstakingly reproduce those documents, all the while reassuming with my hands the position of manual suspending the toilet chain. In the tank below, the Advil were assembled and melting, and I could not help but think that from that vantage they looked surprisingly like Skittles.
8.10.2003 This is going to be a lot of fun, but before we begin, I have to praise Peter for introducing me to this idea.
So as we all know, Google has an image search. And if you search for a certain word, it produces results based on both the names of images in pages Google indexes, and also on the content of those pages. A search for the word "kitten" might yield 44,000 adorable balls of fur, while a search for my last name might yield a human-trashing robot.
Anyway, the purpose of this post was not to explore how many images do not exist, (especially as I am exceptionally tired of looking), but rather to bring a few successful image searches into existence. The method is simple: produce a picture, be very specific in naming it, post it on a website, and wait for Google to index it. In a month or two, voila! a few of my friends will be famous. But what will they be famous for?
1. I stood at the bottom of the stairs with a hammer, waiting while the others watched. And when Joel made his way down and turned, he jumped back as if he actually believed I could do such a thing.
2. "Hey, who's that guy who's a lot like John Ritter?" Joel inadvertantly devised the hardest game ever. The answer, which was anyone's guess, turned out to be Charles Grodin.
3. Don't just read this thought, actually consider it: think about how much more interesting all of our lives would be--both as individuals and as a race--if we didn't have such an incredible tolerance for repetition. The meals I eat most often now are the same meals I was eating most often when I was five. But what if the constant consumption of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches didn't satisfy me, and I needed to constantly eat new and different foods. Think how much more you would know about food and cooking and your individual tastes if you never cooked or ate the same exact meal twice. Now apply that same consideration to all respects of your life. Entertainment. Art. Even living location. This concept boggles my mind.
1. There's something wrong with the movie industry when I can decide, sitting at my computer in my room at 9:28, that I want to catch a 9:30 movie, and can still get there in time to sit through three full previews. Granted, I live very close to a movie theatre. But still, shame on you, movie industry.
2. Because I was in such a rush moving through the movie theatre, oweing to my having left my house at the moment the movie was meant to begin, I paid little attention to which room of the theatre my movie was in. This would not have been a problem, seeing as how I made my way into the correct theatre by following the plastic placards for my movie, except the staff changed the placards sometime during the first hour of my stay. Halfway through the movie I went to the bathroom, and on my way back found myself completely lost. Take a moment to imagine my confusion, and another to imagine me standing dumbfounded in a hallway of similar-looking doors.
3. I saw "Seabiscuit", which was quite good. But how good was it? Well, let's take a look at how well it does on my movie scale, which is based entirely on the inverse proportion of the number of scenes that feature Moby songs. In the case of "Seabiscuit," there was only one Moby-based sequence, which was refreshing, as most modern films feature three or four. A girl I was talking to at a party once told me that she had a backstage pass at a Moby concert, and that he took an entire group of girls back to his hotel room to have sex with them. My story seems unbelievable because it begins with "a girl I was talking to at a party once told me," and her story seems unbelievable because I've read Moby's weblog. I would, however, really like to read a Moby post on that subject.
8.7.2003 As those of you who have known me for three days know, I recently made the unreasonably idealistic declaration that I would (attempt to) post something new, every single day, for the remaining five months of the year. On a scale from one to ten, this goal is simply unreasonable. However, like many other bold statements I have made in my lifetime, I will take this challenge, however inconsequential, as seriously as I take anything else. Because that's my thing. I just like making bold, often pointless statements, and then backing them up for as long as I possibly can. I haven't had so much as a bite of homefries in over a year, and I love homefries. Why haven't I had homefries? Because one night I opened a menu, pointed randomly at homefries, and declared I would never eat them again. This is exactly like that.
Now, in order to take this self-given challenge seriously, it must first be given a name--if only so that others may remark to one another about my progress without a great deal of confusion. After careful deliberation, I have decided upon "THE YO LA TENGO LATE-SUMMER WEBLOG CHALLENGE." Allow me to explain the parts that compose the carefully chosen name. Let's go backwards: CHALLENGE: Webster's defines challenge as "a sentry's call to an unknown party for proper identification." I bet that context gets a lot of use these days. If we're going to go to the trouble of adding words to the dictionary, we might as well go through and delete a few. WEBLOG: The only part I'm actually going to explain in any great detail is the 'Yo La Tengo' part. This is exactly what I mean: I started something, and now I'm pursuing it to the end, however pointless. Like dating someone on death row. I'm not very good at analogies. LATE-SUMMER: I started this in the late summer. Three days ago, in fact. I feel like no one except Tony downloads the songs I post. I wish the rest of you would start posting music. I would download it. YO LA TENGO: So this morning I got up early to work on the name. It was like really early, as in birds-don't-have-anything-to-do-but-chirp-at-each-other-loudly-in-the-dark early. After seven hours of thinking, I had come up with a name that kinda sorta worked (HEWLETT PACKARD'S EARLY SPRING FANSITE DUEL), but I wasn't completely happy with it. So I did what I always do when I'm in a creative jam--I called up my good friend Georgia Hubley. It was so embarrassing! She and Ira Kaplan picked up the phone at the same time! When they recognized my voice, they were both like "I have it!" because I'm friends with both of them. Even though I'd called for Georgia, I let Ira stay on the line, because I'm passive-aggressive and I don't like confrontation, but then I was glad I let him stay because after only a couple minutes he was like "I have it!" and he dropped the name on us all smooth-like, as if it wasn't the best idea that anyone had ever had.
The rules are as follows: 1. Any sort of new content constitutes a post. This includes the posting of photographs, drawing, or, if you're me, music. 2. There is no minimum length for a post. Even a single sentence constitutes a satisfactory post. And if you're really lame, even a word counts. 3. YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE YO LA TENGO LATE-SUMMER WEBLOG CHALLENGE. I know that joke has been made a thousand times, but I think that has to be by far the funniest wording. 4. Contestants must post every day. This is relative to the poster's timezone, and measured by their 24-hour timestamp. 5. In the case that a contestant cannot gain access to a computer on a certain day or period of days, they can elect a substitute to post for them. However, this substitution must be made public knowledge, and the substitute may not be another contestant.
The contest begins August 16th, after which no new entries will be accepted.
The prize for achieving the goal: The entire Futurama series--all five seasons--on a DVD. This prize means nothing to me. I already have the entire series and I watch it all the time. But it is incentive for others to join in the challenge. The deadline for joining is August 15th. Who's in?
8.5.2003 This is an unfinished post from three weeks ago. We have since left Florida and returned to our respective states, but I wanted to make sure to post these details, however incomplete, for fear or forgetting the part they played in our Floridian lifestyle:
I like to tap the wall at night to remind the neighbors of just how close our lives are to one another. The headboards of our two beds share a wall, and many mornings I am ripped out of sleep, often in a panic, by the rhythmic thumping of their bed against the wall behind my head. The lamp on the bedside table makes a noise when it is shaken, and in the rare instance that I keep a glass of water on the nightstand, the surface ripples like a dinosaur is approaching. This lasts for anywhere between two and six minutes. The experience as a whole is unsettling, and it has taken me a nearly a month to accept these circumstances as part of my daily routine.
In our house, there are three different possible places to sleep, and we are constantly rotating. The high point of the rotation is a spacious queen bed, and the bottom of the rotation is a couch that is just small enough not to stretch out on. Between those positions in the cycle is the king bed, which is shared by two people at a given time. We don't share the queen bed for fear that a romance will develop, and hearts will be broken. We are fragile men who don't believe in taking chances. Both of the upstairs bedrooms (Diagram 1a) share a wall with our neighbors' bedroom, which means that any given morning, generally between 10:10 and 10:35, three out of four of the members of our household are awoken by thumping, moaning, or, my favorite, sex talk.
This was, in fact, how I became aware of the fact that new neighbors had moved in. I was sleeping in the queen bedroom at that point, which, as an interesting architectural point of information, is separated from the neighbors' bedroom by a quarter-inch of double-sided wood paneling. What does that mean? It means that when my neighbors talk, I can hear every word as if was spoken in my very bedroom. What else does that mean? It means that when he moans "get on my penis," which he has done more than once, I generally consider my night of restful sleep officially over.
I don't normally post conversations, because everyone else posts IM conversations and I have a superiority complex, but tonight I'm going to post a conversation with Adam, my freshman-year roommate, in honor of his new template design. (Edited for incriminating content and spelling.)
Adam: freshman year i invaded your roommate space in a way that i suspect you never discovered. guess what it was? Adam: (as in, i was a bad roommate in a particular way.) Ben: hmm. let's see... Adam: i believe it was around october Adam: and i had to cover it up, so it caused much anxiety. Ben: did you steal cds? dvds? what'd you steal? Adam: not cds or dvds. Ben: books? Adam: nope, nothing permanent Adam: at least, in that sense Ben: files? Adam: should i give you another hint? Ben: food? i know you stole food Adam: you're getting warmer, but if it was just food it wouldn't be a game Adam: it was during reading week, when you were gone and i was there Ben: if food is your secret, your secret's out Adam: well, i have a flimsy defense for the food-stealing Ben: i'm familiar with your defense Ben: give me a hint Adam: it's something of which i took a quantity and then replaced Adam: the replacing was the difficult part Adam: (although i should say that i replaced it out of guilt, not out of sneakiness) Ben: my goldfish? Ben: everyone killed that fish but me Adam: you had a goldfish? i don't remember that at all Ben: well, it wasnt a goldfish Ben: i was a fighting fish Ben: not cigarettes? Adam: when did you have cigarettes? Adam: it was a more major theft than that Adam: although still a quantity of a consumable Adam: frankly i'm surprised you haven't named it yet Ben: hygiene products? Adam: nope Ben: money? Adam: nope Adam: remember? i GAVE you $40 once because i felt so guilty for eating your food Ben: did you give me 40 dollars of my own money? Adam: nope Ben: alcohol? Adam: yes, alcohol Adam: phew, finally Adam: for some reason i drank three shots of your alcohol over reading week. Adam: then i realized what i had done (honestly, i have no idea why it thought it was acceptable at the time) Adam: so i retroactively asked you for permission over IM Adam: you said no, and that you had taken a picture of the bottle Adam: which freaked me the fuck out Ben: i said that? Ben: i must have been fucking around Adam: yup Adam: i'm sure you were, but you were also passive-agressive about my consumption of your resources, so it wasn't outside the bounds of possiblity Adam: so, in a panic, i got some people to take me to a liquor store and buy some rum of the same color so i could fill the bottle back up Adam: then i tried to keep the bottle a secret so i wouldn't have to explain myself (which was weird) Adam: i have carried this secret with me for three years. Adam: i feel so unburdened Ben: how odd Adam: yeah Ben: well, i forgive you Adam: thanks, i knew you would Adam: we should be roommates again. it would be fun! Ben: i dont think going to do the roommates thing again if i can avoid it Adam: did i say fun? i meant agonizing. Adam: yeah, i'm really happy i never had another roommate after that semester
And while I, for one, don't have any more time to waste on the internet, allow me to use what time I do have to introduce the supposed challengers. The founders of the "
In our house, there are three different possible places to sleep, and we are constantly rotating. The high point of the rotation is a spacious queen bed, and the bottom of the rotation is a couch that is just small enough not to stretch out on. Between those positions in the cycle is the king bed, which is shared by two people at a given time. We don't share the queen bed for fear that a romance will develop, and hearts will be broken. We are fragile men who don't believe in taking chances. Both of the upstairs bedrooms (Diagram 1a) share a wall with our neighbors' bedroom, which means that any given morning, generally between 10:10 and 10:35, three out of four of the members of our household are awoken by thumping, moaning, or, my favorite, sex talk. 
