Contradiction, Vampires, and Tea

So here it is. I finally did it! I started a blog. For years I have sworn off this extreme form of information democratization, as I subscribed (and still do) to the argument that information should be disseminated by professional outlets such as newspapers, news broadcasts, etc. Blogging, YouTube news programs, and other such forms of “democratic media” are actually hurting us.

I digress. What I’m going to explain is not why I hate blogs in general, it’s why I started this one. Back in the day, a little over a year ago, I wrote this entry in a now defunct LiveJournal.

“These little LJs are amazing. We feel as if we have our own world, that somehow the dark pixcels making up our words actually release what’s in our chests and minds and places it neatly into this little micro-cosmos that is all our. We like to look at our lives, problems, loves, failures, achievements, and write them down so we believe the world will one day stumble upon our genius that dwells within our mind, and the best-selling novel that these words make because of our heart. But what if, beyond the therapy and false hope that anyone cares about writing these things, we’re simply arrogant little people who think not that we should share our lives and problems theraputically, but that the world DESERVES to hear our shit so that everyone else can learn from our mistakes, and that somehow our one life matters enough that our friends and others can solve our dire problems with a well wishing comment or inquisitive “omg what happened? call me!”. This is not therapy, this is a self-created lie and falsely comforting world in which we are healed by the wisdom of the collective world, yet we are never healed, it gives us an excuse to not face our problems for that… much… longer. [sic]“

Now why did I start a blog? Because I want a record of the things I think. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing this for myself. I’ve tried carrying a little notebook around with me, writing down my whimsical thoughts on the day, theories, and observances. Failed. I figure that if the internet doesn’t fall apart, I can go back through this and glean some small diamonds from what is sure to be a sea of dirt. It may be true, in time, that contrary to what I believe, I do want you to read this and think, “damn, he’s good”, or something along such parallel lines. I’m not trying to put off any problems. I’m here to talk to myself, not to you. If you choose to read, so be it. I say, “Welcome! Have a seat! If you want something to drink we only have water, tea, and bourbon on the rocks. The band’s not great, but hell, nobody views this place as the end of the road. They’re playing for their future!” Stop reading now if you’re looking for guidance, the best you can hope for is a good idea or an thesis for a research paper.

Also, I would like to thank a Mr. Darius Nabors for proving, with his blog, that one can simply record, and ask for nothing in return. Whether or not you ever get this Darius, thank you.

On to vampires! The last great vampire movie came out in 1987, entitled The Lost Boys that focused around a group of vampires lead by Daniel (Keifer Southerland), a new family in town, and a Vampire Fighter played by Corey Feldman. Great movie. The best thing to happen to vampires since that movie is the wonderful band Vampire Weekend. They are a four-piece band of Ivy-League (Columbia) prepsters who frequent their concerts in Sperry’s, patterned oxford shirts, and chinos. Lovely. The music is difficult to describe. I will go so far (gasp) as to say that there no “blender comparison” to them (Example: The Raconteurs sound like The White Stripes mixed with Jet). The melodies are minimalist. The song “M79″ features drums in a simple, one measure repeating, beat, a guitar breaks intermittently with three chords over a measure, and a violin plays gently in the background, adding the right amount of classic herb to the “noodles and sauce” (simple makeup) of the band. I find their genius in their lyricism. I have never heard such poetry to a beat. Their academic background is evident, and without repent. How dare they be so brave! (Bravo!).

For weeks I have watched their video “A-Punk” on Fuse, along with another great (in a guilty pleasure kind of way) band, Paramore. It was sublime. The soft melody stuck with me, and was just the musical comfort needed for the day. I finally got a hold of their album. My ears have been in sweet bliss ever since. In fact, I had been contemplating this blog for a while, and I have an obsession over the names of things. I needed one, and I refused to start until I had one. The name came from a song off of Vampire Weekend’s self-titled album. For your pleasure:

Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?
I’ve seen those english dramas too
They’re cruel
So if there’s any other way
To spell the word
It’s fine with me, with me

Why would you speak to me that way
Especially when I always said that I
Haven’t got the words for you
All your diction dripping with disdain
Through the pain
I always tell the truth

- Vampire Weekend

An oxford comma is a not-so-obscure, but highly debated grammatical phenomenon. It is a “serial comma” that comes just before a conjunction (such as: “and”, “or”). Its use is often to continue the rythym of a list, and often guard against misunderstanding arising from ambiguity. Take the following example (not mine): “To my parents, Ayn Rand and God.” The same sentence with an Oxford Comma: “To my parents, Ayn Rand, and God.” Much better! See there? With that simple addition, things make so much more sense. Thank you Britain (God Save the Queen!), thank you Vampire Weekend, and thank you to the small adjustments and thoughts that make up my life’s Oxford Comma!

(Random note: “Oxford Comma” has a lyric that says, “Lil’ John always tells the truth”. Classic.)

All this bloody english is making me thirst for tea. All I wanted to say about tea is that I love it (especially Earle Grey), but I never allow myself the five minutes to make and consume it. Poor me. Life can be so cold and difficult.

Cheers,

W. Thomas Webb

Daniel: They have an afterworld of their own.
Father Laforgue: They have no concept of one.
Daniel: Annuka told me they believe that in the forest at night the dead can see. The souls of men hunt the souls of animals.
Father Laforgue: Is that what she told you? It is childish, Daniel.
Daniel: Is it harder to believe in than Paradise where we all sit on clouds and look at God?