Linking and Unlinking...

"Memory, prophesy, and fantasy -- the past, the future, and the dreaming moment in between -- are all one country, living one immortal day. To know that is wisdom. To use it is the Art." -- Clive Barker

In theory that quote applies as I wistfully clean house. The sidebars have been updated a bit. There were several fellow travelers who have departed . Our wayward blogger buddy, Jenzilla, no longer resides at the address she once called home. Though I have occassionally knocked since she pulled stumps for the next stage, it has been to no avail. I hope she is off in that high country. Cock your ear to the wind and you might just hear her far away, singing a rising song.

Even still, a broken link, like the remnant light of an ancient supernova, must finally be extinguished. She will be missed. She may yet return.

Also, http://www.youknowforkids.co.uk/, a site dedicated to the films of the Coen Brothers, has been jettisoned because it was kidding around too much, not standing up straight, and not being punctual when clicked. "You know, for kids!" is a quote from The Hudsucker Proxy, by the way.

It has been replaced by an imminently-capable carbon copy of itself that does the trick nicely of highlighting the Coens' idiosyncratic cinema offerings.

I've added a few blogs that I've trolled through more than once recently: dooce and fafblog. dooce must be read cautiously. For 28-year-old, single men from Texas it is the equivalent of eating fugu, a Japanese delicacy made from a highly poisonous variety of pufferfish. Fugu can accidentally kill if prepared improperly. Master chefs ensure a non-fatal preparation -- bringing new meaning to not f#%king with the people that handle your food.

For dooce, however, the burden lies on the individual. There is no master chef in which to misplace one's trust. Reading Maxim, watching sports, weightlifting, gambling, engaging in substance abuse, or attempting to pull off ill-advised Jackass-inspired stunts of death-defiance: any of these are recommended and considered by experts to be sufficient to avoid emasculation.

Oh, I kid. And to prove it, I recommend everyone check on the French Open which is heating up in its second week. That's right: tennis, anyone? In this bastion of unmitigated machismo that I call home, it is more than mere sacrilege in some circles to admit to such trangressions of male conduct as voluntarily watching tennis. But I enjoy watching it, if only because I played it for eight years and have a working knowledge of the players. Nonetheless, I must continue to look over my shoulder and write fast!

How to resist? Afterall, Nadal is vying to repeat as champion this year. Is he the only viable threat to Federer's claim of all Grand Slams at the same time (not in the same year, though)? I can sense your anticipation, the baited breath with which you await more, but for safety's sake, I must press on.

Back to the other link that I've added, fafblog is an amusing, good time of a read if you like politically-charged social commentary wrapped in psychotropic mayhem and inane, comic book craziosity. Not convinced? Well, I heard that dooce lets her daughter read it! ;)

Moving on, I've also added a link for Freebirds World Burrito. Sorry, folks, it's a Texas thing. Sadly, you are only allowed to drool. Though I'm sure you could start insisting via email that they expand into markets nearer to you. In the meantime, if you so chose, you can place an order online, and I could pick it up, eat it, and tell you what you thought of it. ;)

I'm more of a slave to it than a patron. Thus, I consider this shameless plug to be obligatory.

blue1aqua1, have you ever partaken of their tasty goodness? I know they have them in Austin. Don't say no and break my heart!

On another note, Zero 7 (also featured in the Random Links sidebar) is releasing a new album. Anyone that might be interested in chilled-out, downtempo R&B flavored trip hop might want to check them out. And though the new album, The Garden, sounds worthy from what I've heard, a good place to start is their seminal debut, Simple Things.

Trip hop, of which I am a considerable afficionado, has been on life support for a number of years now in pop form. Though none of the mainstays of the genre could probably count themselves as bonafide mega-stars in the States (most hail from Europe), there have been a number of groups that have loyal followings here.

However, the proliferation of the formula for success that had initially given its formgivers their unique sound and perspective ultimately oversaturated the limited scope of its market. And the moody melancholia of many of its most prolific bands was something of a turn-off to mainstream audiences. It could not be danced to (at least not in any traditional sense), and many professed its content to be gleaned from of gloomy grab bag of menace, anxiety, sullenness, or depression in various undercooked, over-hyped amalgamations of ambition and artifice.

Nevertheless, more accessible acts like Björk and, briefly, Sneaker Pimps enjoyed regular rotation. Dido found success by toeing the fringes of the genre. Air and Zero 7 have both reaped the benefits of more radio-friendly themes and electronica aesthetics, mining the depths of jazz and rhythm & blues respectively. Even the somewhat morose likes of Portishead graced the videography of Mtv for a short time during their debut album.

But I go on. Time to go off. I still have to publish, then spellcheck. I cannot do it in the proper order for some reason. Goodnight, triphoppers.