Inspiration Only Lasts a Few Rounds.
I'm nothing without my influences
The title is a wise piece of advice that Brandi Filumena gave me regarding a girl. I took it, eventually, and used it, even if I had to spit it out over the phone late at night. Anyway. On with the update!
For our non-American readers and for most of our readers from this country as well, one of the most prolific and deepest reaching chroniclers of our time, Studs Terkel, died yesterday. He wrote about the lives of ordinary people in a way that made you feel their lives. He won a Pulitzer for his oral history of the Second World War, if (as they should) such things matter to you.
If you want to know about ordinary Americans (that phrase has more and more of a cachet to it these days) from a person that wrote about them for most of his life, then pick up one of his books and you'll get the real story, without enough pandering to provoke nausea.
I saw Bane last night. I'm still glowing. To give you an idea of how much I enjoy seeing them live, my friends (we being college students) often tease me about it, asking would I rather watch Bane or have sex, and I tell them that the two aren't good to directly compare, which is true. The experiences are quite different and I enjoy both for very different reasons, though I will say that I feel less self-conscious at a Bane performance than during intercourse. Then again, I am terribly self-conscious at any given moment.
I'm nothing without my friends
I've called Eleven Names dead before, but now, at least as I type this, I don't find it to be true. As long as it is linked to one of our credit cards, it can't ever die, it will persist, but I think more importantly, I've acknowledged that it is not near the top of my priority list anymore. Like the Hope Conspiracy, who'se new full length, Death Knows Your Name, I have grown to love, this site appears to be something a little more casual and less rigid in having updates, and going from a "okay, we're going to put something out every week" to "we'll write when we write" is a hell of a shift in gears.
The RZA once said "How can hip-hop be dead if Wu-Tang is forever?" I guess, in one of the only ways Eleven Names is like the Wu-Tang Clan, as long as we continue to write something, every so often, this won't die. Happy Halloween.
In short: We're back.
I can't help but love this life again. -Crime In Stereo
The title is a wise piece of advice that Brandi Filumena gave me regarding a girl. I took it, eventually, and used it, even if I had to spit it out over the phone late at night. Anyway. On with the update!
For our non-American readers and for most of our readers from this country as well, one of the most prolific and deepest reaching chroniclers of our time, Studs Terkel, died yesterday. He wrote about the lives of ordinary people in a way that made you feel their lives. He won a Pulitzer for his oral history of the Second World War, if (as they should) such things matter to you.
If you want to know about ordinary Americans (that phrase has more and more of a cachet to it these days) from a person that wrote about them for most of his life, then pick up one of his books and you'll get the real story, without enough pandering to provoke nausea.
I saw Bane last night. I'm still glowing. To give you an idea of how much I enjoy seeing them live, my friends (we being college students) often tease me about it, asking would I rather watch Bane or have sex, and I tell them that the two aren't good to directly compare, which is true. The experiences are quite different and I enjoy both for very different reasons, though I will say that I feel less self-conscious at a Bane performance than during intercourse. Then again, I am terribly self-conscious at any given moment.
I'm nothing without my friends
I've called Eleven Names dead before, but now, at least as I type this, I don't find it to be true. As long as it is linked to one of our credit cards, it can't ever die, it will persist, but I think more importantly, I've acknowledged that it is not near the top of my priority list anymore. Like the Hope Conspiracy, who'se new full length, Death Knows Your Name, I have grown to love, this site appears to be something a little more casual and less rigid in having updates, and going from a "okay, we're going to put something out every week" to "we'll write when we write" is a hell of a shift in gears.
The RZA once said "How can hip-hop be dead if Wu-Tang is forever?" I guess, in one of the only ways Eleven Names is like the Wu-Tang Clan, as long as we continue to write something, every so often, this won't die. Happy Halloween.
In short: We're back.
I can't help but love this life again. -Crime In Stereo
posted by James Thomas à Becket | 11:15 PM
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