My ode to 2010,
Before I begin I wish to say how much I feel for new years day!
Last year was a bust so this year I must have a glorious one for the age!
I awoke at dawn and worked through the day, awaiting my moment to shine.
I made it home fast, caught my breath, combed my stach and was ready to go by nine!
My girl got off work and she put on a dress, I said baby lets go! she looked good, i confess.
We made it to the dive and a band was there live to perform until five or six.
What they played was sublime and decently fine and they looked the part at the same time!
We drank vodka for free and champagne. It’s funny how somethings… never change.
At 11:59 my girl looked divine and i kissed her face and she said this: This is the best new years of my life. And I realized something great at last.
It doesn’t matter where you are, or what you’re doing. All that matters is who you’re with.
So to 2010 and my friends back in Texas and all over, I hope you make the greatest memories this year, and I hope you make them with the ones you hold closest to your breasts.
love travis.
it’s five seconds to midnight and there is a crowd of people counting down in lackluster failure to synchronize. they all sort of come together for the one and some netting that has contained a bunch of balloons is released. you’re left with the impression that this is supposed to create a magical shower of balloons and confetti while a dancing throng screams in unison, but the crowd is too thin, there are only about twenty balloons and the ecstasy i took two hours ago is obviously no more likely to induce euphoria than a flintstones chewable tablet.
this is not my crowd. the lone hope of enjoying it lay in the drugs which, let’s face it, would have made an evening locked in a closet sucking my thumb more enjoyable if only they’d worked. it is 2009’s final fuck you. it was a hostile, dickish year. it swaggered into the cosmos like a drunken longshoreman and finally crawled out of the bar long after offending everyone in the place, but not before puking on the doorstep.
2010 is starting off needing a new pair of shoes.
Click here to watch a sample of the night’s activity
Denton TX, New Years Eve. The evening began with pre-drinking 40′s and 4loko with Zachary White and Jacob Adair, at White’s house on Panhandle.
We then went to get shots and meet a friend at rgrs (Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios), where we caught Video’s set, it was very good.
We then headed to 1705 Crescent where DJ Ian Bangs was ringing in the new year.
I crashed early because i had to take a friend to the airport at 5 a.m.
Click the link to check out my video blog experience of the evening on youtube.
- Bradford.
“A New Year’s resolution for everyone”
(Justin is President of the Printmaking Association of North Texas)
Another new year, another chance to make a more-than-likely-failed resolution to one’s self: lose weight, defrost the bodies in your basement freezer, land that dream job, etc. I think with this New Year everyone should make a resolution to rediscover the lost art-form of a firm handshake and eye contact. Sure, Facebook’s great for keeping up on the Joneses (wait, I guess that would be my family, what with my Mom and my Aunt now on Facebook), or a mass message to remind people about that “totally sweet, bro!” party next Thursday, but I’ll tell you what, social media will never be a replacement for a firm handshake and direct eye contact. A firm handshake puts you in intimate, physical contact with another human. Eye contact locks in that handshake (strangulation also helps), and only then can you have a true confirmation of attendance to that totally sweet party Ma and Aunt Jones are throwing next Thursday, bro. TLDR version: Don’t ever, EVER use Facebook event rsvps to gauge how many are going to show up to your Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin DVD watching party. I’m not bitter, just spiteful.
A new year. People think this is a time for change or reinvention,
maybe even intervention. I believe that a new year is a time for
reflection, maybe even deflection. You’re trying to punch me?!
DEFLECTED! By my REFLEXES! Catlike. Childlike. Innocence. Free Parking.
This year I just want my acquaintances to have better resolutions than last year.
You want to quit smoking?
Not happening.
Trying to be less of a slut?
Don’t make me laugh.
Baby steps people.
Let’s try some attainable goals.
1. I’m not going to jail this year.
Just to help, I’m not willing to post bail for anyone. Don’t even ask.
2. I’m not going to screw over someone close to me and jeopardize all of
our mutual friendships in the process.
Ok, this sounds personal. Trust me it’s not. A lot can happen in a year.
If you’re planning on coldcocking somebody wait until next year. Please?
3. This year, I’m going to be myself.
This is the hardest by far. I know I said baby steps but Jesus, I’m
not Jesus. Not even some hybrid robot Jesus, forgive me. No! I don’t
need your forgiveness. You aren’t Jesus either you stuck up elitist
asshole. When’s the last time you turned 5 liters of water into a box
of Franzia? Never, that’s when! I digress…
Happy New Year everyone, stay bastards just like I like you.
The New Year has become a symbol of the revolving door of my life and the people in it. Reinventing myself again and again through my teens and early twenties I have been the Madonna of Denton, Texas as I also was of Fort Worth and of Riverside and Los Angeles, California too. By Madonna I mean the musical artist and by reinvent I mean reinvent. Fully from the ground up. Don’t get this confused with some sort of poser-ish masquerade where I struggle to find my unearned and trivial position amongst the ‘cool crowd’. Oh no, I imagine I found that unknowingly years ago… and then left it and then found it again. I mean an earth shattering kind of soul searching reinvention. A reevaluation of my shithead choices. A reaffirmation of my wise ones. Recently I’ve felt this evolution slow. I’m about to be 24 and I’m realizing now that this is just me growing up. We all do it in different ways. We try religion, drugs, sex, abstinence (yawn) and relationships. Some of us try art, music or jobs and some of these keep until they are no longer the ‘phases’ our parents promised us we’d grow out of, but really the identity we choose to represent us for all of our lives. This is not true for most of it though. I will admit my father’s accuracy in predicting that most of the things I’ve dipped my feet into have not drawn me to bathe for long. I am no longer a basketball player, a karate kid, a clarinetist, a horse back rider, an actress or a singer. But I was once each of these things and now I can say for sure without an ounce of doubt in my mind what I am and what I am not. The ‘not’ list gets longer. The ‘am’ list gets smaller as I dwindle down to the exact person I have become. Looking at the list this year I can see how all the bumps and dents to my proverbial body have justified themselves in the end as the mold of my identity forms into place. So to celebrate myself this year, a little less revolving and a little more confident, but no less dynamic I am traveling back to the mother land on New Year’s day to cement the pieces of who I am with who I have been. Who I am is confident, articulate, fashionable and ambitious. Who I am not is pretentious, greedy, selfish and timely. The last being a most unfortunate matter because my flight to LAX departs at 7:30 in the goddamn morning New Year’s Day. Phew. It’s cool though. I’m satisfied with my positive attributes and honest about my negative ones. I think this is the goal in life. To know who you are and flaunt it completely and without apology. So here’s to all the wonderful little things in my life that make up who I am: Harry Belafonte, Monster energy drinks, Camel cigarettes, Los Angeles, Denton, Lurex, being 20-something and Bradford- for driving me to the airport at 5am New Years day.
New years are funny. You’re asked/forced into thinking about the past year, reminiscing about all the shit you did, didn’t do, should of done, wanted to do, couldn’t do, and mostly what others did(in some kind of order) and how much better it was than the stuff you did. Fuck that. You’re also asked/forced into thinking about the coming year and the shit you want to do that you wont, shouldn’t, should and cant do, while others share what they will do(in some kind of order) and how much better it’ll be than the stuff you wanna do. Fuck that.
Lets call bullshit on lists, silly nostalgia and so called resolutions. Lets agree to enjoy the good times, learn form the bad times and be able to look back and laugh it all off. Obviously we have absolutely no clue what we are to expect from the future, besides whats already been set on the calendar(unless calendars are done away with to begin the year which could make my puppies of 2010 calendar useless and only good as a cute wall hanging), so why not pop the top of your favorite beverage, take a drag from your favorite smokable and ‘carpe diem’ the shit out of it. Don’t fuck up too bad at work, school or your personal relationships, hell succeed if you can, and ‘gung ho’ it up. Set your goals but make em flexible cause everything can change in an instant and you’re fucked if you’re not ready to let the river drag you any which way it wants. Sit back and enjoy the ride.
Do what you would do with teens(the 10s), as you would when you were a teen(or now if not too illegal), fuck the shit out of their nubile body and brag to your friends about the good parts and deny the rest. Happy new year(s).
Future Sex, or “I heart Bot Sex”
by Nicole Martinez
It is normal to feel concerned about “future sex”. Today’s women fart on cakes, defecate in drinking containers and mouth feed each other the poo, and even have screw multiple pterodactyls at once. No one can deny that the early 2000s were chock full of innovative and freaky sex. You may be worried about how your future sexual experiences will ever match up. “What is left for me?,” you may be asking.
Do not despair. I am here to tell you that there is hope for future sex. All of the best things about the future can and will be integrated into sex in the “tens.” Here, a preview of what you have to look forward to in the next decade.
With everything “going wireless”, tomorrow’s tweens can look forward to a future of “telexting,” you know, tele-sexting. Unlike sexting, telexting will allow inappropriate sexually natured messages to be transmitted directly from one brain to another*. Parents will never have to find out about those 11pm nudes you sent your BFF last weekend or the naughty proposition you sent to your hoverboarding crush. You can also forget about the humiliation of having your business forwarded to every cell phone at school. If your baby chooses to telext-n-tell, he can do so via mass telexting. So while everyone will still know, they will only be laughing on the inside. Everyone wins.
Have you heard about lab grown meat? Scientists are working to grow that shit in test tubes for public consumption. It’s amazing. If those guys can grow meat, you better believe they can grow some balls. Are you picking up on this? Imagine, no really imagine the possibilities of lab grown cock (or vag)? In the future, you could enjoy having your very own authentic privates to do whatever you like with, anytime. Astronauts are going to love this! So put that flesh-light on the shelf you old-timey bastard. I’m nearly positive that it does not count as masturbation if it is with a real piece of genitalia.
It is hard to find a mate. Let’s face it, some of us are more attractive than others. Luckily, sex toys give everyone an equal chance to “get off.” But you can’t cuddle with a sex toy. Luckily for all the gamers out there, future sex shops will carry fully functioning mechanical mates. And well 25% of the population will be robots by 2014, these robots will be special robots whose only purpose is to fuck you (and spoon you, if you’re into that). $4000 (or whatever currency we are using 4 years from now) is a small price to pay for feeling wanted & well-sexed. I also want to point out how this will be a breakthrough for the porn industry. Bot sex will no longer be a fetish, niche, or fantasy but its very own porn genre—can you imagine the porn bot names?!
So you see, there is much to look forward to. The early 2000s may have a one-up on us with their dinosaur-fucking ladies but us future lovers will be giving a whole new meaning to the “mind-fuck” while an android man pleasures us with some real legit cock we bought botsex.com.
*You may be wondering the mechanics of this all. Remember all of those chain e-mails you received in the early 2000s about harmful EMF waves transmitted by cell phones? Well its true and you’re screwed. Luckily everyone in the future will have tiny satellites embedded in their brains at birth to send and receive data.
Charles Ben Russell
of the Austin based Cartright
The new year, virgin time, fresh fish, a breath before we begin anew, a tool to perpetuate hope for you yet, an astronomical pivot, a metaphysical bath. I don’t know, we all use it as we do…..and I leak a little of me into anything I explain, you too.
Oh woe is ye products of forgotten histories, you’ve devolved to a stutter of slang traditions and consuming contradictions; its not your fault individually, till you start counting. Counting what? The wrinkles in your mind’s eye or the changes in your face, everything comes into account when you expel your dillusions and know your facts. The new year mechanism affords us that, a night in the confessional.
Do you know where the trash truck parks? In everyone else’s yard. Stacks of sacs of fuck bags leaning to and fro with the flow which falls on all below. excuse my outburst.
Seeming clean never seemed so far away after a saviors been born…. knowing your paralyzed seems to be the source of the pain. We like the stars light best right before it dies, as long as it still shines we’re content raccoons chasing tin foil.
My point…… well that’s my first new years resolution. cheers
The world, for now, is continuing on speeding through the galaxy on it’s slightly tilted axis. With each revolution, we have reason to embarrass ourselves, no matter how trite.
We look to our past selves, past years, even past eras to find some answers to our questions “What is the new year going to be?” These questions always pop up the week or the month before January 1st hits, even when were deciding where to spend that single fateful night. We all look to the clock ten minutes prior and somehow we envision ourselves suddenly not ourselves. We don our underwear outside our pants, like superheroes, and donate half our bar tabs to obscure charities. We vow that we’ll support those in need and those without our luxuries.
We want to be intrinsically good. We want to soar with the eagles, we want to win for the team, we want to save lives.
We become entranced with leading a double life. Our bad habits, the ones we attempted to shun from the year previous, we just find better ways to hide them. The absolute truth is humans are crafty creatures of habit. Thing is, we don’t change, we just get smarter. We don’t want to embarrass ourselves, we want to better. We truly, truly want to win. We want to be good,
Bottom line is accountability. Be responsible. Be wise. That’s what I hope for in myself and everyone else. I hope to.
———-
