E-mails From an Asshole - My Way

Received
Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 5:04 PM
To: "sale-3yech-1454518771@craigslist.org"
** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams.html

Hi, can you take 30 for the sofa?

Sent from my iPhone


Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 5:39 PM
We have an offer for 50 dollars already. It's like a 200 dollar couch with 25 dollar pillows. It was bought in July, please be more realistic. Can you offer anything more?

Received
Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 6:34 PM
U no wat my bf wrote to u and he doesn't have alot of cash n he really liked it but never mind u didn't have to have such a rude tone in ur email...

Sent from my iPhone


Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 6:43 PM
I'm sure if you had someone ask less than 50% for something you were selling, you would send them flowers as a thank you. Go scam someone else.

Received
Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 6:47 PM
U no wat u little bitch ass fuck u ain't no scamming ur dumbass we just got r own place n don't have much cash street value ur piece of shit couch ain't worth shit......I have had ppl asking for way less than what I paid for shit n I don't respond to ppl the way u do so like I said fuck u n ur piece of shit ikea couch

Sent from my iPhone


Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 6:50 PM
Learn to type English. And it's a couch not drugs, there's no street value. You should sling more to afford a real couch.

Have a good day! =)

Received
Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 7:04 PM
Fuck u!!!!!!! Ur just a low life piece of shit

Sent from my iPhone


Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 7:06 PM
You're very angry and full of swearing. Glad I didn't do business with you. You should probably relax and stop being so rude to people.

Also how can you afford an iPhone, but not a couch? Priorities much?

Received
Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 8:53 PM
I'm only mad cuz of the way u where responding ur the rude one so go fuck off bitch and FYI yes I do cus like a sailor n I don't give a fuck I'm proud of it to bitch

Sent from my iPhone



Fri, Nov 6, 2009 at 9:06 PM
I think that's were, not where, cuss, not cus, and that 'to bitch' should be 'too, bitch". Are you mentally retarded? If so I won't continue to berate your inability to communicate like a human being.

All of this could've been avoided if you just offered a realistic monetary compensation for my sofa which apparently you liked before deciding it wasn't worth anything on the street.



Fri, Mar 12, 2010 at 4:59 PM
I was just looking back at this conversation - very funny! Thanks for the entertainment.

Received
Sat, Mar 13, 2010 at 12:31 AM
Traquilizate, mongolito

Sent from my iPhone


Mon, Jul 19, 2010 at 3:55 AM
Remember when I said you should learn to communicate like a normal human being? I'm guessing from your last response you did not understand that request. What I meant was you should not be such a skank.

Received
Fri, Jul 23, 2010 at 11:58 AM
Okay, so I'm guessing you haven't grown up. Get a life and stop emailing. Thank you. I don't understand how you can call me a skank when you don't even know me. Grow up and get some manners. And just FYI that's Spanish look it up and see what means.

Sent from my iPhone


Sat, Jul 24, 2010 at 7:42 AM
I don't speak Spanish, I"m an American. Maybe that's why we didn't correspond so well in the past? I googled it and there was no result. I even tried Babel Fish! It didn't work!

Also, even though I'm baffled at your fiscal responsibility, buying an iphone before furniture, I've decided to accept your offer for 30 dollars for the couch. We can even deliver it if you have the cash - where would you like to meet up?

Facebook About Me

I am going to be 24 in the fall and I still think that nesquik could possibly be one of the greatest inventions in the history of man. I love useless things like prematurely cancelled television shows and women who will never care about me. I have an ego and my opinions are always right. I do not have a god complex, I have a rubix complex - I need to solve the puzzle. I'm baffled at the fact that there is no better sleep than that of one next to a warm body, but confused at the math that makes the cold side of the pillow warm. I like V-neck undershirts, making noise for a living, drinking whiskey straight up or on the rocks, making an ass out of myself, using sarcasm, crudely insulting your character flaws, making juice and grilling at 3 am, watching sunrises after a long night, the washington redskins, the baltimore orioles, the hanging curve ball, the way a girl's eyes glow after a glass of sangria, big eyes, small bones, short hair, sweaters, ties, apple computers, blue microphones, moleskine notebooks, music made by anyone except lil wayne nickelback and the killers, reading old books for the hundredth time, not stepping on cracks, dancing in my car to pop music, heated leather seats, your mother, rambling uselessly and then getting people to actually spend their time reading it, thunderstorms, snow, rain, cold water, scalding water, watermelon, and black and white photography.

Also mustard. But you knew that.

I desperately want to be a writer but spend the only completely free time I had to write in Los Angeles worrying about finding a job. And now I'm stuck in Baltimore Maryland where the girls aren't as stuck up as they are on the west coast, but still don't care who I am.

A Note About Baseball in Baltimore

Dear Baltimorons:

Brooks (and Frank) haven't been Orioles for over 30 years. Brooks retired in 77. The mayflower took the colts away 25 years ago. Grow up. You have a new NFL team that has a Super Bowl Trophy.

You've been bitching about management bringing the O's veterans, so they built from within and have prospects and now you're bitching they have prospects instead of veterans. Make up your minds. I'll see all of you that are 'disappointed' in the team at the Yard in 2-3 years pretending you stood by the team the whole time.

I find it entertaining that Baltimore's big 'Dundalk born and raised' media constantly bashes the Baseball Organization in this city. Maybe that has something to do with the team revoking media passes the season after he staged a protest in the team's stadium? Possibly still bitter, hurt and confused that a professional organization doesn't like to be publicly humiliated?

Don't get me wrong Nestor, I understand the irritation that some members of the sports media are loyalists, or even apologists, but that doesn't meant that you have to be a complete pessimist and detractor to every aspect of major league baseball in the city to balance the scale. I thought you prided yourself on your journalism? Isn't a big part of journalism objective criticism? Congrats on swaying the sheeple with your Dundalk accent. I don't buy it.

But hey, what do I know? I'm just a fan. All I know is just as I hate the Red Sox fans mysteriously showing up in Baltimore after they win a ring, I'll despise you and your brethren jumping on the O's bandwagon when the pendulum swings the other way.

A Short Story Called Sunday

Sunday. 2:17 AM. With ghosts of the bottle in my head, and the world spinning, I stumble up the stairs towards my apartment.

“I’m in serious trouble,” I say to myself, aloud.

Standing on the landing in front of my own apartment, I stare at the grain in the white oak as I’ve done at least a thousand times before. I know what awaits me on the other side of the door, and frankly it terrifies me. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I was supposed to be home by midnight, since we have a very important meeting with the future in-laws tomorrow. Unfortunately, as an theoretical physics scientist, sometimes my research takes a little longer than I anticipate.

Usually Amanda is alright with this, it’s all part of the job. She’s a nurse, so she understands attachment to work. Usually. Except for on nights like tonight where I went from researching experimental physics at the lab to researching the effects of ethanol on the human nervous system. You could say it was a success. Such a success I had to return to the lab to find a way to prove my findings. It all happened so fast – it almost seems like it was days ago.

Amanda will not be as excited as I am about tonight's discovery.

Having been here before, I know exactly what awaits me on the other side of the oak when I come upon the courage to turn the brass knob and push the weight of it ajar. As I sit contemplating it, I think I hear a noise inside, which peaks the curiosity of my delusion addled thought process. Suddenly excited of the prospect of what lies on the other side of the door, I push down the handle and enter.

As I do so, I am surprised to not find the darkness lurking in the deepest containers of my mind at all. I drop my bag at the door, as I notice Luther Vandross playing throughout the apartment; I can see her iPod illuminating the walls of the kitchen, connected to the radio she listens to while she cooks. The smell of what was probably a delicious steak is in the apartment. And the smell of wine is sweet– probably the 1975 Pinot we’ve been waiting for a special occasion to open. There’s a smell I just can’t place. Fumbling around, half due to my current condition, half to the darkness, I make my way towards the illuminated iPod, tripping expertly on some unkown object in the dark on my way.

In the kitchen I find, just as I expected, steak dinners. Or dinner. One dirty plate, and one clean, still beautifully presented with asparagus, some sort of cream sauce on egg noodles and a steak. But nothing to explain the putrid smell. I fumble in the dark for the light switch, and almost ceremoniously, I flip it.

Amanda is sprawled across the living room floor, a red halo extending around her head. Even though I can see the revolver a short distance from her body, I pray it’s just a joke. I pray that there’s a group of friends in the hallway down the corner I can’t see that will suddenly jump out and surprise me for something I war unaware of, or the consequences of my actions have led me to forget. I pray the red halo is the wine. It takes me all of a second to bound across the confines of our apartment to examine the woman I love.

“Amanda!” I shout, the panic hitting my voice surprising even myself. I don’t react like this. Not this time. I should know better.

It isn’t red wine.

I sit, very carefully on the couch staring at the site before my eyes. Over just a period of a moment or so I calm down. My heart rate decreases so that I can’t feel it pulsing through my temples. Reaching up, I go to wipe the tears from my eyes, but a second to late, I realize there aren’t any. I take a deep breath, and think to myself about how everything is going to be okay.

“I can fix this,” I say to no one in particular.

Slowly, I retrace my steps back through the kitchen where I turn off the light. I return to the front door, where I retrieve my bag, and take one final look at the woman I loved.

With a much more hurried pace then I previously had, I exit the house and run out to the parking garage underneath our apartment complex. A headache hits me instantly, right at the back of the head where skull meets neck. I worry thinking I too have been fatally shot. Shaking the my head quickly back and forth sloshes the contents of my brain around like whiskey in a tumbler and reminds me that it is possible for a headache to be nothing more than a headache. Nevertheless, my heart is working harder than it has in years; my blood is flowing as the speed of light.

Sitting in my car, alone, with the silence growing on me, as if it will slowly fill my car and push me out, I open the contents of my bag and remove the small metallic box that has become the crowning achievement of my life’s work. For what must be the thousandth time tonight, I stare at the black knob, which is one of only two items that protrude from the box’s cold steel exterior.

The knob is at five. I set it to ten. And drawing a few long deep breaths, I move my hand over the only other item protruding from the box. A trigger. I had thought it made it look cool, but given the circumstances of the night, I think, if I ever get the chance, I’ll change the operating mechanism. Perhaps one of those buttons hidden behind a glass cover you see on nuclear devices in the movies.

Putting aside future revisions I focus on the events that have happened. Letting out a scream, exhaling a harsh breath, I squeeze the trigger tight, as if my life depends on it. In a way, I guess it does.

The world seems to spin just a bit faster as I exhale, letting my head rest on the steering wheel for just a second. I feel like my vision zooms in on tiny fragments of the air that aren’t even visible as I’m physically tossed further from the things I’m trying to see, as if carried away on the crest of a wave. My headache jumps in severity; what was the ringing between your ears after the concert has become the morning after binge drinking, complete with nausea. I look at the clock, and exit my car.

Sunday. 2:12 AM. With ghosts of the bottle in my head, and the world spinning, I stumble up the stairs towards my apartment.

“I’m in serious trouble,” I say to myself, aloud.

Standing on the landing in front of my own apartment, I stare at the grain in the white oak as I’ve done at least a thousand times before. I know what awaits me on the other side of the door, and frankly it terrifies me…

Scott Pilgrim vs the World Trailer is Finally Out

Seriously.

It's out.

Edgar Wright has finally posted the first trailer for Scott Pilgrim vs the World.

It should make you giddy.

Giddy is the proper response.

Be giddy below.

Scott Pilgrim VS the World Trailer - Directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead / Hot Fuzz) and Starring Michael Cera (Arrested Development, Juno, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist)

IN MEMORIAM - Mark Linkous

Quite a few members of the indie community woke up to start their week to find a press release that broke their heart. Mark Linkous, the creative force behind Indie darlings, Sparklehorse, had passed away Unfortunately for fans of the work, they were aware of Mark's health problems. The alt-folk musicians troubles were well known because Linkous has a way of using the negativity to power his creativity.

Linkous had moved California in the 80s with his first band, The Dancing Hoods. While they had some moderate success, including being featured on MTV's 120 Minutes, they never broke into the mainstream. Down on his luck, and disappointed, Linkous moved back home to Virginia, and continued working his dream job - making music.

Linkous recorded his first solo material under many names before deciding on the moniker he would become most known by, Sparklehorse. He recorded the first two albums more or less alone in a small room by himself. Good Morning Spider, the second album, references a dark spot in Linkous life: an overdose while on tour opening for Radiohead in 1996. Mark overdosed in a London hotel room, and after sitting awkwardly for a long period, he was rushed to a hospital. The damage to his body left his legs permanently weakened, and kept him in a wheelchair for the next 6 months.

Linkous, feeling he would stifle his own creativity and longevity decided to change his approach to recording his third album. For It's a Wonderful Life, he tried expanding to include a full band and a studio recording. His creativity and style brought the music world to life; appearing on his third album was Tom Waits, PJ Harvey, and Dave Friddmann. Also featured on the record was Vic Chesnutt, who sadly passed away on Christmas of last year.

In 2004, between his third and fourth records, he took some time to work on another passion of his - producing. He organized and produce Gammon Records special two disc compilation in tribute to American singer, Daniel Johnston. The Late Great Daniel Johnston: Discovered Covered was a collection of covers by a list of bands that represents every facet of the independent community. From the Eels and TV on the Radio, to Bright Eyes and Death Cab for cutie, the record is a solid presentation. Linkous himselt appears on the album, on a track where he works with the Flaming Lips.

The followup to well received third record wasn't as well received by critics, but fans still loved it. Half of the material on Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain was previously released material re-recorded and remastered. Pitchfork loved it, and a whole new era of fans fell in line with Sparklehorse.

The most influential thing Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain did for Linkous can be found in the liner notes. Linkous co-produced the album with Dave Fridmann and Danger Mouse. Working with Danger Mouse, Linkous worked on an piece of art across multiple senses, with experimental film maker David Lynch working hand in hand on the visuals. This 13 track collection is pure audio beauty, from open to close. Just look at the featured artists! The Flaming Lips, Julian Casablancas of the Stroke, Black Francis of the Pixies, James Mercer, Vic Chesnutt, and even Iggy Pop! Unfortunately, this album did not see the light of day during Linkous life, as a dispute with EMI kept the album from being released. The art booklet David Lynch created is sold, however, with a blank cd and a large notice: "For Legal Reasons, enclosed CD-R contains no music. Use it as you will."

According to his agent, Linkous was hard at work on a fifth Sparklehorse record at the time of his passing. Shelby Meade, his manager, made it clear that he had moved to a new studio to finish another album. But for now, that's where the music ends. And that would still amass an amazing collection, between his four studio albums and the two compilations, there's a lot of Sparklehorse to be heard. And if you haven't already fallen in love, I highly suggest it; tracks like Some Sweet Day, Ghost in the Sky, It's a Wonderful Life, Box of Stars, and Daughters are highly likely to change your life - or at least your day.

"From the Linkous Family: "It is with great sadness that we share the news that our dear friend and family member, Mark Linkous, took his own life today. We are thankful for his time with us and will hold him forever in our hearts. May his journey be peaceful, happy and free. There’s a heaven and there’s a star for you." - March 6, 2010"

Fans have been left with just the above message since his passing. Well, that, and a lifetime worth of beautiful, life celebrating, and breathtaking music to cherish.

Thanks for Everything, Mark Linkous.

-Mark Roe

An Addendum

The Album I Slept on in 2009 - some of these were on the list, and had I not lived in close quarters with many people in the latter half of 2009, would've been much higher. Some of them I didn't listen to in 2010 and it should be a sin. But look into these albums if you're into indie rock.

(Merriweather Post Pavillion by the Animal Collective and Conditions by the Temper Trap are still solid as the #1 and #2 records of 2009 in my book, but these records are climbing.)

The XX - XX

The Cribs - Ignore the Ignorant

Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest

Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - S/t

Passion Pit - Manners

The Antlers - Hospice

Cymbals Eat Guitars - Why There are Mountains

Are You Sure You want to Delete this Draft?

I do not have a god complex, I have a rubix complex - I need to solve the puzzle. I'm baffled at the fact that there is no better sleep than that of one next to a warm body, but confused at the math that makes the cold side of the pillow warm so damn fast. I'm compelled to find the universal delete button - you can delete a phone number from a blackberry, you can delete an e-mail from your inbox, you can destroy the mail. But there's no delete button for the mind, which is sadly, not in development. Which is interesting considering that anything you'd ever want is available somewhere on the internet, and not only that, but it's plug and play USB and self-powered. No pesky AA batteries required.

I'm gonna go all 'livejournal' here. Four years ago someone very near to me told me that my writing was lovely. Unfortunately for the rest of you, she convinced me. It was those damned eyes, I tell you, you can't help but melt. And I love cold weather. The fact of the matter is that without that push and those words of confidence, there's no way I stand up for myself by quitting my job and following my dreams across the country. There's no way I pursue an english degree so that I can one day put 'Self-Employed : Writer' on my tax return. Writing was just a hobby at the time. Now it's life. It's hard to remove the person that inspires that sort of change in your life. I'm still figuring out how (and failing, I know Sam, I know, but to quote Ryan, "Damn, Sam, I love a woman that rains") to do so. I've actually failed miserably at this task. By removing blue eyes from my life I've succeeded in memorizing a cellular number (that is something I do with every number) that I can't un-remember, panicked about sending a cross-country birthday gift, and spent many nights and showers (where I do the best of my creative thinking) stressing over this blue eyed heroine. I do care deeply. I do wish she's happy; and for this reason, I will stay out of her life.

In my case, the problem with dates being in the cards is that you have to have cards. Somehow I have a stack of monopoly money, the candlestick from clue, and a game piece from 'Sorry". I'm not sure what game it is i'm playing, but It sounds diabolical.

For the last 3 years 'write more' has been on my new years resolutions list. The stack of notebooks behind me, the 10 windows of notes and scripts and random lines of poetry open on my computer are a testament to that. I like to think my mother would actually approve of the decisions I've made and the changes to my maturity level since I turned 18. Unfortunately I went on an existential and creative journey (which will never end, for the record) during the worst economic period during my lifetime and had a very low chance of success. I'm okay with that. I've been watching a lot of House recently. I think he's amazingly compelling. When House isn't consumed by a case, he's consumed by chronic leg pain. It sounds kind of familiar.

I've dived back into the pile of books next to the borders around my bed. I've recently become interested into the idea of lucid dreaming. After three days of repetition - an A written on my skin that reminds me to ask myself if I'm awake - I've triggered lucid dreaming. It's been an interesting couple of nights waking up with a notepad and trying to remember how I'm changing the world.

You see, I do not have a god complex, I have a rubix complex - I need to solve the puzzle.