Monday, 7 September 2009
When we left our brave and legendarily endowed hero, he was moving quickly through the dunes of Nazareth to save Jesus Christ who was trying to fight off a crowd of Ninja Romans who were intent on his capture. With his trusty troop of animals he had taught to dance to Barry White songs, Sean raced over the land with the sole mission of saving the son of our Lord. The following will soon be released in film form in “The Bible: The Funky Version”.
The sun glinted off the helmets of the Ninja Romans as they moved menacingly toward Jesus who, with sweat making his white robes almost see through was beginning to tire as the 50th warrior lay slain. Blood dripped from his cracked knuckles and the sand had turned a dark red from the gore strewn about as he fought on bravely. These warriors were not going to stand in Jesus’ way of attending a dance off with his arch nemesis Sean Rodrieguez, the stunning figure of a man who had captured his fathers imagination and approval with his slick moves, smooth way of talking and cool so effortless he’d often been known to start new trends, both social and fashion, each day he rose from the large leopard print bed decorated with semi nude models, each with personal problems more exploitable than the last.
On the horizon though there spawned a dot, a dot which if one didn’t look for it was barely recognizable and lo, it was Sean Rodrieguez storming toward the scene on the back of his loyal elephant Eddie. Behind him followed his feared cohorts in battle, the Lion named “Graham” and the Bear whom nobody knew the name of, as he wasn’t the talkative type. Sean had had no time to change his clothes and whilst he wasn’t usually known for attending battles dressed in a pristine suit, today it was so. Sean spat with scorn at the floor racing by as he realized his hairstyle was fast becoming undone by the wind racing through it. Though onlookers would describe it as flowing mane, Sean merely regarded it as a complete nuisance and one that could perhaps hinder his seductive abilities after the battle to the point of perhaps only 2 or 3 women and even those would not be simultaneous. “The things I do to save people” thought Sean bitterly as he reclined his legs and changed the iPod in the dock on the Elephants back (for Sean was around 2000 years in advance in electronics to his peers) from shuffle to select his favourite battle theme.
Jesus by now had grown weary from battle but so had the Ninja Romans, reduced to their last few they had decided to sit it out and wait for reinforcements. Jesus took this time to have a much needed Marlboro and sit on a pile of the fallen Ninja Romans, wiping the sweat from his brow with his bloody hands. He thought wistfully of all that had gone wrong before him. The apprenticeship in Carpentry he had never finished and the various job prospects that had cost him. At the time Jesus had no real interest in his career and had decided instead to go on a two-year bender, most of which he couldn’t readily recall at all. Thus it was that when Jesus returned to finding gainful employment he could find little more than cleaning jobs and minimum wage 44 hour positions in trades so simple he couldn’t ever imagining embarking into a lifelong career in them. Luckily he had landed his position as King Of The Jews, and despite the lack of any real pension it was a great position. He’d got lucky there he supposed, but everything from that point was such a downhill slope he could scarcely ignore the decline. Then there was Jo, why had he ever let it end in such a way. Two years of relationship, talk of engagements and love cast aside for her talking to Judas so much.
“Judas wasn’t even that bad of a guy really” Jesus thought “I bet if I gave him a chance we’d have got on like she said.”
But she was gone and many was the night Jesus had spent drinking Jack Daniels in a darkened mud hut listening to “their song” on repeat on his stereo, wondering if he’d meet another girl like her. Certainly there had been flings Jesus remembered them with a smile. It had never been a challenge for Jesus to score in the clubs; something about the long hair, goatee and ability to turn water into wine had always made him a hit with the ladies. But in each one-night stand he grew more and more disenchanted with the single life and it was all he could do to not focus on that one failed shot at happiness he’d had. But starting tomorrow it’d all change, he’d make moves and he’d move past her, be happy again, maybe even start that apprenticeship again and really make a go of doing what he wanted to do. But then he heard the rumbling sound on the distance and knew instantly all he had promised would be useless now. On all sides he was surrounded by legions of Ninja Romans, all staring at him in unison, the samurai swords glimmering in the blistering desert heat.
“Fuck me” Jesus thought, the Marlboro hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth. “Now I’m proper fucked.”
The wind was the only noise for what seemed an eternity as Jesus looked around at his certain death…
Elsewhere Sean Rodrieguez was still racing toward the scene, standing atop his galloping elephant and smoking as he looked toward the crowd now gathering around Jesus in the distance. He was gaining closer now, but even a man or god like Sean couldn’t be sure whether or not he’d make it there in time…unless he did something drastic. Clenching the filter of the cigarette tightly between his teeth Sean threw off his suit jacket into the air and stamped his heel once onto the elephants back, the Elephant stopped dead and slung Sean through the air at an incredible pace, still smoking toward Jesus and his assailants.
So it was that just as Jesus had become resigned to his fate, Sean flew through one side of the army like a missile and came to a sliding stop next to Jesus just as he finished his cigarette.
“Jesus Christ!” Said Sean “You’re lucky I showed up”
Then he knocked down his Ray Ban sunglasses and sighed as the Ninja Romans began to advance in perfect unison, spears and samurai swords sticking from the gaps in their shields. Sean would not stand for this.
“NOT TODAY MOTHERFUCKERS!” Sean bellowed and with that he and Jesus launched into battle.
It is often a section missed out from the bible, the day that Sean and Jesus alone battled and defeated 300 Ninja Romans barehanded but that needs attention, for few stories show the awesomeness of Sean Rodrieguez as well nor show just how much help Jesus needed to become the figurehead he is now.
Jesus went home from that day a new man, no longer scornful of Sean Rodrieguez because he had witnessed first hand the awesomeness of the man. He went back to his carpentry apprenticeship and later became a fully qualified carpenter (also the Son of God). He and Jo never spoke again but he moved on and found love again. As for Sean Rodrieguez? Seeing that his work was now done, he merely thanked God and Jesus for their hospitality and climbing onto the back of his Elephant travelled on throughout the land, looking for other people to help and adventures to embark on. The people who saw him leave say he disappeared into thin air, leaving not a trace or elephantine footstep. Rumours abounded in the tabloids the next day that he was capable of time travel, but they were soon forgotten and replaced the next week by the scandal of a woman showing her knees in public. But people often spoke idly of the legend that was Sean Rodrieguez and where he might be now. A question that this other knows the answer to all too well, but that is a whole other story…
Friday, 28 August 2009
Place: Right Here.
Time: Right Now.
The Artist Formerly Known as The Pope Himself:
Hello and welcome to the SuperAwesome Funeral of Sean Jose Jesus Rodrieguez presented by www.seanrodrieguez.blogspot.com. You may be seated.
Sean was taken from us all too soon. Taken the way he truly would have wanted to be taken, by offering Superman, Spiderman, Al Pacino, Zach and Slater from Saved By The Bell to a contest of “Let’s See Who’s More Awesome By Doing Stupid Things”. So sad it was that when Sean drunkenly tried to stop a speeding 18 wheeler truck using only his erection he perished.
*pause for weeping, sobbing, cries of “WHY?! WHY?!!” and “HE WAS SO
AWESOME!” to subside.
Sean did indeed die much the way he lived, with his genitals being violently thrust into something.
Please rise for the first hymn…
(After the frantic sobbing and beating of the floor has began to subside, the Pope Himself continues with his eulogy)
(Here the Archbishop cattle prods the Pope back into sense)
We learnt! However! That however magnificently hung a man is, he cannot stop a speeding truck using his own erection, however sturdy and well travelled it may be. Sean lived what the bible would have called Sin. However it is the churches decision that we now rewrite the entire scripture to have Sean co-star as the rival of Jesus Christ our lord and saviour. I feel it is only fitting that a man so godlike in stature be preserved for future generations in this way.
I now present, as a sneak preview to be released by Universal Studios in film form starring Brad Pitt as Sean Rodrieguez, part of the newly written scripture:
“And Yea, the Lord did say to his Son Jesus of Nazereth, you shall accept that Sean Rodrieguez is your superior. To which Jesus did appear bemused and was heard to comment “But he’s just a rich pretty boy father!” and so the Lord did respondeth “How very dare you my Son, truly this man in his very essence was the salt of the earth and the water of the oceans.” The disciples here gathered close around Jesus in his hour of need.
“Futhermore” the Lord continued “Surely such a man who hath fought lion’s with his bare hands and hath fought bears with his lion’s heart must be recognized as the reason for creation, lest we forget he was truly perfection in man’s form”
“Fuck” Cursed Jesus as he stubbed out his Marlboro under his sandaled foot. Jesus has struggled long and hard for his father’s attention only to have it stolen from under his very nose by this pretty, rich, well hung, talented author of bestsellers. All he wanted was attention, all he wanted to be loved and that whole cry for attention with the cross had gotten him nothing more than a few embarrassing scars and the laughter of a million Romans. “Sean didn’t need to do any of that” Jesus thought angrily “All he did was attend an orgy and please all the females in the room whilst arguing the newest military campaign with the counsel”
So it was that Jesus did respondeth “BUT DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD”
and the lord did comment “But nothing Jesus, now go, I want to talk to Sean.”
Yea, so did Jesus storm off to his room and slam the door.
“Why is Sean so great anyway?” Jesus wrote in his journal “All he does is have sex with the most attractive women of the land. I HATE SEAN RODRIEGUEZ” thereupon Jesus did throw himself upon his bed and listen to Rage Against The Machine, longing for the day he too would be appreciated by his father.
Sean Rodrieguez stepped forward into the pool of light cast from the heavens and knelt before his lord and adoptive father. From nowhere “Get Down Saturday Night” by Oliver Cheatham was heard to blast from the clouds and Sean did verily get down and get funky with it, so much so that the disciples joined in and the dance sequence that followed was glorious, much sand was kicked with spin moves and many maidens were allured to Sean, whom merely winked at them and explained that he was already busy betting busy with THE FUNK.
“Sean I have an important mission for you my son” quoth the Lord.
Sean however was too busy doing such slick dance moves that the great, great, great, great, great, great, great ,great grandfather of James Brown was heard to declare “WHOOOOOOOAaaaaaAAAAAAAA”
From a distance, in his dark room Jesus did hear the merriment of this occasion and had had enough. He stormed out of his room, he’d show up that Sean Rodrieguez, with the dance routine he had practiced in his bedroom mirror to “Digital Love” by Daft Punk. Indeed twas well known through the land that few did the Robot like Jesus did the Robot. Jesus decided that truly now and forevermore he would prove to his dad that he was better than this alluring pretty author who had captivated the civilized world with his incredible wit.
Jesus did reach for the door and did storm out of the Lord’s House. “I’m going to do the best damn Robot, they ever did see” Thought Jesus “Then they’ll see, oh yes, then they shall see.”
Meanwhile Sean was just breaking out one of his many dance moves whereby a large lion, a large bear and a large elephant joined him in his dance. Some say that no man could teach a Lion, Bear and Elephant how to dance in perfect timing to a disco song that wouldn’t be written for some 2000 years, but surely it was seen that day that Sean Rodrieguez could. So the crowd grew larger and larger, watching this man dance like few have ever danced.
Elsewhere, Jesus stormed toward the sounds of merriment on the horizon. Suddenly a group of ninjas and Romans (the most deadly of all warrior combinations) swarmed him.
“Stop King of The Jews!” they yelled.
Jesus was a man on edge and so it was he did respond “Fuck Off! I’m not in the fucking mood!”
But the Ninja Romans would not be discouraged and they lunged at Jesus. Jesus jumped high into the air and with a mighty kick impaled three attacking Romans like meat on a kebab skewer. Three more ninjas charged him and Jesus let loose a mighty right handed punch that knocked all three out in immediate succession.
And that’s when Jesus got mad.
With a primal scream Jesus began laying waste to warriors right and left with his bare hands, tearing out spines and spleens like a fat man fisting an even fatter girl only to pull out her vital organs. After the first 50 had been slain Jesus let loose a mighty roar.
A roar that carried all the way to where Sean, his Lion, his Bear and his Elephant were still dancing only now to “You See The Trouble With Me” by Barry White so well that even the lord had begun to weep and so a terrible rainstorm befell the land. This only served to soak Sean’s robes so much so that his stunning body was shown through the white of the material. But suddenly, Sean heard Jesus’ roar and threw his long haired head in it’s direction, rain water splaying off his glorious bonce. The music suddenly died (just as it was getting to the good part) and every head in the crowd of over 200,000 watching Sean now looked to where the roar had came. Sean instantly knew that Jesus was being attacked by Roman Ninja’s and that truly only he and his band of loyal animals could now be the group for the mission.
“Sean!” Bellowed our Lord. “Save my Son!”
Sean looked at the kicked about sand he had been dancing on and lit a cigarette, exhaling the first drag into the rainy desert air.
“I’ll try” Said the mighty Rodrieguez in his throaty growl of a voice, the sound of which caused all female virgins in the surrounded expanse of a crowd lose their hymen’s and experience their first orgasm simultaneously.
Will Sean Save Jesus from the Ninja Romans??
Will Jesus earn the respect of his father??
How much more unbelievable can this story get??
Tune in next time for the final instalment of “JESUS: The Sean Rodrieguez Story”
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Many leading relationship experts believe that breaking up with somebody is akin to the grief experienced when a close member of your family dies. A fact that would only perhaps be true if your father were somebody you fucked a few times a week and blew money buying teddy bears for. This isn’t to say that breaking up isn’t a traumatic situation. Another common theory is that whilst in love your body creates more endorphins and when suddenly this love is taken from you, your body essentially goes through a cold turkey withdrawal of having these endorphins. This again is a complete and utter fallacy. Whoever claimed this theory has obviously never experienced a break up whilst you can’t afford your next crack hit, THEN they’d know pain.
Many theories are bandied about the world regarding break ups. Some say it’s a cold turkey withdrawal, some say it’s a grieving process. It is without doubt a cold, dark period of your life. A period where you realize that some period of time at least, you will have to go without sex.
There is no easy remedy for a break up (outside of Amsterdam) but seeing as I got you into this mess I suppose it is really my responsibility to get you out of it as painlessly as possible. So herein lies the guide to Breaking Up Painlessly Like A Man.
Part 1: Preparation.
So you realized it. It may have been whilst you were sat there having to watch Desperate Housewives for the 15th consecutive week whilst your friends were getting hammered and doing drugs with strippers. It may have been when you realized that The Ting Tings really weren’t that awesome. It may have been when you realized that your every movement was now being monitored, measured, graded, timed, criticized or reviewed. One way or another you want out and whilst the swiftest option may seem like a romantic walk to a shallow grave and a swift strike around her head with a shovel this isn’t necessarily the best (or legal) way of dealing with the situation.
The important thing here is to remain mature and think logically. Is she really at fault for the relationship having ran its course? Is it really her fault that that blonde girl at the club the other night had an arse that made you weep at it’s beauty and gave you her number like it was loose change to a beggar? Can you really blame her for changing from a girl very similar to that blonde girl at the club to, well, HER?
The answer, of course, is yes you can. It goes without saying that in instigating a break up you have already decided on some level that everything is the other parties fault and even if it wasn’t you’ve made up some damn good excuses. So now is the time to think of the best possible way of telling her these things in quick succession and then telling her that it’s over. I find that a break up should proceed like a knockout combination in boxing. You lead with the jab then swing the big punch to put them on the canvas, then walk away doing the Ali shuffle to this song.
The important thing is to put her in a situation where she can’t lash out angrily at you, yet still feel suitably demeaned and useless. The cliché here is to go to a restaurant. However I thoroughly recommend attending anything that gathers a large crowd. The recently announced string of The Who concerts are a good idea failing that lower league football teams have very cheap tickets and still attract a crowd measuring into the 10,000 mark. Call up beforehand and tell the event organizer that you have a very important announcement to make to your special lady in your life that you would like to make at the interval. They should accept. Now you have the perfect staging ground.
Pre-write what you’re going to say to her to, make it an epic speech. You want this girl to remember this moment for a long time. So don’t drunkenly fumble “It’s not you it’s you soz x” into a text message, prepare small 2 by 5 cards and if possible arrange for a small podium to stand above her, microphone optional depending on the size of the crowd you have to talk over. It’s a good show of masculine power to throw each separate 2 by 5 card at her as you finish reading from it, however this may incur more wrath than you really want.
Now as with all speeches it’s important to figure out what you say before you get up there to say it and telling your soon to be ex just why she isn’t working for you anymore is a situation that requires tact, mental guile and a good knack for improvisation. However we’re men, so we’ll just lie.
Often there are no real reasons for the break up but believe you me she will ask for them. Women require reasons for many things, I can only presume this is because they so scarcely offer any for the things they do wrong. The relationship probably isn’t working for a variety of reasons but do NOT say the following:
- I want to have sex with other people
- I’m tired of having sex with you (or any euphemism which means that such as “You can only plough the same fields so many times/You can only dig a hole so many ways/Your vagina has lost it’s allure…etc)
- I’d like sex with the annoying side of emotion it now comes with as processing such feeling requires effort which we both know is not my strong suit.
- Well come on, you tell me you wouldn’t want to fuck that girl from the club (whereupon you show her a photo your friend took of you licking the salt for your tequila shot off her breasts.)
Your lies you see, like a portly woman’s thighs, are there to cushion the blow. Needless to say this will be the most crushing moment of her life so you need to soothe her with sweet platitudes. Focus on her good points, the points that made her the woman she was. Indeed it is vital you tell her that the sex was great but more so reassure her that her numerous faults, her numerous glaring faults can be rehabilitated if only she completely and utterly changes her persona. Let her know beyond any doubt that she can control whether or not any man will ever love her by simply not being such a total bitch.
At this point, depending on her temperament she’ll likely start crying. This is merely a devious tactic of hers, an emotional smoke screen if you will, to distract you from your main purpose of having sex with other women. Do not fall for it. It is at this point the tough love must come out for the good of you both. Slowly slide your hands up to her shoulders, look her tenderly in the eye and smile just a little sadly at her. Then proceed to shake her violently and tell her to get a hold of herself.
Now it’s time to leave, don’t drag out leaving this is unfair to her. Don’t say any special little leaving line or do anything tender or fond. The men in romantic movies would hug the woman, perhaps choking back a few tears in a vaguely manly sort of way. This is simply because the actor and 90% of males in the film industry are homosexual and have homosexual ideals of how to treat women. But as a red blooded god of fertility you aren’t going to do this. The best way to leave a sobbing, distraught women for the last time in your relationship is to merely quickly mutter “Gotta go” and then sprint to your car, wheel spin off (particularly effective in dusty or muddy dumping environments) whilst this song is blaring out of your system .
The hardest part is now over and by the hardest part I mean the part that required any real exertion on your behalf whatsoever. Thus we move swiftly on.
Part 2: Moving Swiftly On.
It’s important to not mope around after a break up. As I mentioned before your body will enter a cold turkey rehab of endorphins should you let it. Allow me to educate you somewhat on endorphins.
Endorphins, according the reputable online font of knowledge Wikipedia, are endogenous opioid polypeptide compounds. They are produced by the pituitary gland and the hypothalamus in vertebrates during strenuous exercise, excitement, pain, death, and orgasm.
Strenuous exercise, excitement, pain, death and orgasm are all things commonly found within a relationship, so you can see that clearly after a break up the endorphins are going to be at an all time low. The best method to avoid cold turkey, one often espoused by heroin addicts is the simply avoid going cold turkey. Thus don’t let your body run out of endorphins, have sex, have sex with anything that moves, have sex with things that don’t move, have sex with your hand, with hollowed out melons, cucumbers or particularly tight pipes. Keep those endorphins racing through your system, when you can’t have sex then settle for excitement. Go to biker bars in assless leather trousers, spraying poppers into the air and asking when they want to start doing the YMCA. Skydive with another person and one parachute that neither of you is wearing. Walk into a gaggle of lions and tell them you didn’t care for their Disney movie at all.
This truly is the simplest way to deal with your break up. Psychiatrists would have you believe that to truly deal with something you need to face it head on and deal with it emotionally, that you need time grieve and process your emotions. This is bullshit. There is nothing about emotions that cannot be solved by developing a severe alcohol problem, having sex with anything that moves and, just every once in a while when it all gets that little but too much for you, stealing an ice cream van just to pelt the children that flock to you with ice.
Indeed, fuck psychiatry. You’ve just got to keep your glands pumping out that sweet chemical reaction that stops you from realising you broke up with the girl because the second you realize that you’ll realize that all the effort you put into being with her, getting with her and being with her (because it was a lot of effort it deserves listing twice) was wasted because you wanted to fuck somebody else.
Which leads me to the final part of our little guide to relationships.
Part 3: The Realization.
Ultimately afterward you will come to the harrowing realization that in breaking up with this woman you have effectively wasted all the effort you put into her. All that time jockeying for her attention, all that time winning her favour, all that time getting her to lift the restraining order, all that time seducing her, having sex with her, shopping for sex toys to use on her, thinking of excuses not to see her, the effort spent resisting banging her best friend. All wasted, all completely pointless and cast away into the winds for your stupid, simple, animalistic instincts to conquer and sexually dominate as many separate women as you can. If you gave it some thought you’d realize that it was an incredibly stupid thing to have done and that more so that that woman you left did indeed make you happy in small ways beyond the sex and crushing her spirit systematically over a period of time.
Depressively you’ll reflect, in your darkened room sat in your leather armchair surrounded by the empty cans you’ve drained to forget that you feel any which way about anything that that’s all that this whole relationship thing is really. A lot of effort that is eventually, as sure as the day is long, a waste.
Then you’ll drag yourself up out of the chair, the cans metallically clanging as you topple them with your drunkenly stumbling feet. It’ll be 2am, the moon will be the only light source and you will be alone. You’ll fondly recall the time when you weren’t alone at 2am, when there was somebody there that made you feel good, great to be who you are. Somebody that made you feel much better about being blind drunk at 2am in a dark room. You’ll climb the stairs wearily and upon gazing into the mirror will be staring into sunken eyes that are worn and tired, your shoulders slumped because nobody sinks their nails into them orgasmically each night.
You’ll take your phone from your jeans pocket and a few buttons pushes later you’ll be looking at a photo from when you were together, all smiles and happy eyes, arms clinging to each other. It’s then you’ll come to the wistful second realization…and you’ll smile. You’ll know exactly what it is that you need to do to make things right again, to make you feel whole again. You feverishly tap out a text message as you bound down the stairs again and out into the summers evening air.
After all you never did fuck that blonde girl from the club…
And for that I refer you to The Idiots Guide to Dating Part 1. You’ll thank me later.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Explanation: Well anybody who knows me will get who this is about after about ten seconds of reading what follows. This is however intended to be part of a much larger project which I feel has a great deal of promise but will also need a great deal of work to even complete, but I'll be updating the blog with news of that soon. For the meantime here's the latest, well, anything that I've written and one I'm particularly proud of.
You know it’s funny to think of him as dead. Even now, when you know damn well he’s dead cause he hasn’t been around to call you a motherfucker OR a cunt for around 2 months. I don’t want to apply myself to that cheesy school of thought whereby he isn’t actually “dead” note the speech marks because he lives on in my memory. That to be seems to be such a stupid approach to the whole thing. People are always in your memory. Jesus when he was alive I remembered the stupid things he did daily, the triumphs as well. Death has just left me with nothing but the memories. With him not here, what else do I have left?
But still it’s a very funny thing to think of your friend as dead. Sometimes when my mind idles I wonder where he must be still, what he might be doing then the logical part of my brain kicks in with the realization that he’s around 5 miles away underneath six feet of earth slowly decomposing. Not the most romantic of thoughts I will grant you, but logic is rarely a nicety is it?
No it’s not that he’s still here in memories, it’s that he’s still there in my head somewhere. In everyday life he still exists. Take for example the end of the bar.
The end of the bar was less the end of the bar and more a serene respite from work that was conveniently located some 5 feet away from where we worked. The end of it is warped and chipped from the countless spills, wet glasses and piles of washed cutlery set upon it. It’s the filthiest most unkempt corner of the entire bar but it was ours. It was our little place. The hours spent there are countless. To the point where it seems that the most part of work was spent there. There was always a very comfortable routine to it. Send out the last of the checks, clean down the sides, one sweeps, one does pots, we both mop out and one of us orders two pints of Carlsberg when we’ve mopped to the exit door. Then you go up and get changed laughing about the events of the night, whatever they may be and go down. In routine the first pint is always the best tasting, the coldest, the most satisfying. You drink it unlike any of the rest of them. You drink it with a sense of direct urgency. It’s an urgency born both from thirst and stress equally we decided one night when we both happened to question it at the same time.
And there you’d stand. Stood at the end of the bar drinking yourself into a small oblivion and feeling like you’d live forever. Life is full of small ironies that way. At the end of the bar you always had this sense of immortality in the fact that no matter what had gone wrong before that was now set perfectly right by the consumption, the heavy consumption of alcohol. There was also the oddest sense of unity, a sense never apparent when we were both alive, it’s funny how you only notice these things when one of you is dead. You both knew you were looking forward to this pint at the end of the bar all fucking night or all fucking day as applied. Then you’d neither say anything for those first few mouthfuls as you just sort of…savoured being there. That’s one of those incredibly odd things you realize when somebody close to you dies, you slowly gain a little more appreciation for those million moments in day where you are just simply glad to be exactly where you are stood. Those enchantingly tiny seconds of every single day where you are just happy to be where you are. The horrible thing to admit about this situation is that being around my friend, these moments came every single time I finished work and stood there at the end of the bar with him.
Looking over it as the alive party in this situation you realize that when it was happening to you, you never realized. This leads you to realize that the greatest moments in life, the most perfect, the most content moments in life tend to completely pass you by. You spend your whole life hungering for being content or having lived in that perfect moment where everything is just…right. You hunt for them daily and never realize that you’re shooting past the target. We spend so many days festering on the worst part of the day, week. We look so much at the days when we have no money and payday is just a vague dot on the horizon. We pull ourselves through every lonely day of being single, each morning we don’t wake up with whoever next to us. Then when we wake up next to that person, when we’re with somebody we just find something else negative to focus on. I guess we have to scrape the gutter in order to appreciate the stars. What astonishes me now, looking over it, two months after he has died is that I never ever realized how perfect those small moments at the end of the bar were. But I suppose it’s forgivable in it’s way. How many times during the course of the day do you really take to think “What if this never happened again?”. That’s exactly what happens when one of your closest friends dies, you cold turkey in a sense, from the happy little moments. Thus in the most human of ways we can only realize the beauty of things that are dead, the serenity in more peaceful moments.
I don’t know what I’m meant to say here. What little truism I’m supposed to comb from it. That’s what makes me alive and that’s what makes me human, I will never ever realize how great I have everything for me in this moment until it is all stripped away from me. I’ll never know I was sleeping in a cloud until I’m brought back down to earth.
I opened saying how funny it was to think he was dead but truthfully, as of this moment I’m slowly realizing what an incredibly truant gift it is to be alive and to be able to experience this all. If I was a cheesier person I might say that is his gift to us all, but really he didn’t intend for that. It’s not a wake up call either, his death isn’t a fucking alarm clock to any of us.
I don’t know why I wrote any of this now. I suppose more so than anything else I guess I just miss my friend. I can’t be held to blame for that, it’s the most human of mistakes to not appreciate what is around you everyday.
The end of that bar is dry now. I won’t ever laugh with him on the end of it ever again, I’ll never again have those precious little parts of the day when you can simply relax and join together in the decadent art of drowning away stress in pints of beer. I’ll never have that ever again but it’s ok. Not because he’s alive in my memories, not because he’s made me wake up to what’s around me, these things are a given.
It’s because that whilst it’s funny to think of him as dead, all of a sudden it’s even funnier to think of myself as being alive.
After a tough couple of months in many respect's I'm intending to bring the blog back better than it ever has been. I'm planning for a couple week's hiatus to write some new stuff and then I'll be back, apologies to my Newbury peep's.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
From the fantastic www.thingsbearslove.com
Fantastic in it's hilarious simplicity, all of the things bears love can be purchased on a T-Shirt, which I intend to purchase the next time I've got some spare cash. This, however, is my desktop background for the meantime.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Hello and welcome to "Sean Rodrieguez Explains Complex, Meaningful Lyrics. In this segment I hope to answer some questions some of you may have over the lyrics of some of the best music ever written. From analyzing the string sections of Strauss or the fiery anger of Bruce Springsteen.
Many people know the words to the great songs and even more sing along to them whenever they get the chance. But what good is this if people don't know the meanings behind the words? The very raison d'etre of the lyrics themselves? Well as a well renowned musical genius and a man whose analytical skills get him laid frantically at English Literature exams, I've taken it upon myself to help you all understand better the lyrics to a few hand picked songs that I feel are particularly complex and meaningful. Perhaps I'll go through the psychadelic genius of Pink Floyd, the sublime sound of The Beach Boys or the subtle hidden meanings of Morrissey. But this week I'll be covering...
Womanizer by Britney Spears
A devillishly complex song, Britney Spears once again regailed us with her lyrical abilities with the recent smash hit "Womanizer". The song reached number 1 in Eleven different countries charts, including Israel which is widely known as the home of great music. When the video for Womanizer first hit YouTube it was played over 7,000,000 times in the first 48 hours in the United Kingdom alone and at the time of writing has been viewed 60.5 million times overall. The Beatles never did that and thus I feel that is a sign of Britney Spears lyrical superiority. So with out further to do, onto the analysis.
It is important before you can truly understand the lyrics to this piece that you understand the characters involved, here is a brief profile of them all:
Womanizer - Male, Likes: Puppets, Women, Using Women for sex (sex that the women involved do not enjoy in the least because he is a womanizer)
Britney Spears - Female, Powerful, Intelligent and she KNOWS just what YOU are are are.
With that in mind the story and emotion behind the lyrics is much easier to understand. Here, let's examine the first stanza.
Where you from, how's it going?"
Analysis: Britney has just met a "Superstar" and would like to know his hometown and how his day is going. However these lines leave us as an audience with many questions. Is Britney's use of the title "Superstar" sarcastic? Is she commenting on the mans illusions of grandeur or the terrible chauvinistic world in which she co-exists with this man?
"I know you
Gotta clue, what you're doing?"
Analysis: But the folly of the above lines is revealed here as Britney reveals that she knows the male antagonist and she knows the motives of his actions.
"You can play brand new to all the other chicks out here
But I know what you are, what you are, baby"
Analysis: Britney claims that he can try his spurious games of turning up in the vicinity and having a penis with other women, but she knows what he is really planning
Just when you thought that first stanza wasn't a sledgehammer cracking your very being open to possibilities of music as the great communicator of emotions, Britney then unleashes herself into this next stanza
"Look at you
Gettin' more than just re-up
Got all the puppets with their strings up
Fakin' like a good one, but I call 'em like I see 'em
I know what you are, what you are, baby"
Analysis: Britney orders the Womanizer to look at himself. We as an audience then learn that he is apparently a puppeteer, whether or not it's his career or if he's simply a Punch and Judy affecionado we do not yet know, this helps create suspense within the piece. Apparently the man is trying to not appear like a puppeteer but Britney see's through this thin disguise and reiterates for the second time to him that she knows what he is planning. As an audience we are now on the cusp of our seats waiting for her to reveal this man's terrible secret.
You're a womanizer
Oh You're a Womanizer Baby
You, You You Are
You, You You Are
Womanizer, Womanizer, Womanizer"
Analysis: Britney herein reveals that the man is a Womanizer, that he Womanizes Women and then reiterates for effect the fact that he is, in fact, a Womanizer. Then she seems to knowingly exclaim that he is a Womanizer with the use of "Oh Womanizer" and then for the fifth time let's us know that he is in fact a Womanizer. Then so as to avoid confusion she points out to us six times in eight words just who is a Womanizer (You). She clearly doesn't think much of the man in questions intelligence as she then tells him three more times that he's a Womanizer. This is an incredibly emotional reveal from Britney as we the audience did not in fact know upto this point in the song just what this man was (A Womanizer).
"Boy don't try to front I I know just just what you are are are
Boy don't try to front I I know just just what you are are are"
Analysis: Britney then reiterates that he should not front (which is youthful terminology for putting up a false pretence) because Britney knows, despite her difficulty here in expressing herself due to an unfortunate stutter presumably due to the intense emotion involved, just what the man is.
From this examination of the first quarter of the song I feel the main idealogy and meaning behind this song can be clearly identified. The man in question is a Womanizer and Britney knows just what he is.
Fun Fact: Britney uses the word "Womanizer" 42 times in this song. This song is 3 minutes and 45 seconds long. That's 235 seconds. Which means Britney averages a "Womanizer" every 5.5 seconds in this song.
This is an intensely meaningful song that I feel says a great deal about Male-Female relations in this crazy cooped up modern world. Shown beautifully in her choice of costume for the beginning of the video for this lyrical masterpiece:
Analysis: DAYUM LOOK AT THAT BOOTAY.
This has been Sean Rodrieguez Explains Complex Meaningful Lyrics. I hope you have learnt a little something today about this song that you didn't previously understand. It's a deep, meaningful ballad that I feel has an undeniable strength in it's choice of words.
Well I've been Sean Rodrieguez, you, you,you have, you, you, have been a great audience.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
I apologize for the distinct lack of updates over the previous two weeks, it's not because I've given up writing for this most awesome of pages, I merely have a college exam coming up (tomorrow in fact) and I've been running around like an idiot applying for University (Stafford, Keele, De Montford, Chester and Salford.)
I'll be back with new material very soon when I no longer have to give a shit about knowing about singular personal pronoun's, active verbs and the date Samuel Johnson published the first English Dictionary thus spawning standardized spelling and allowed for deeper analysis (heh, ANALysis) of the text. Samuel Johnson published the first dictionary in 1755 in case you were wondering.
I'd like to thank any of you reading this on any regular basis and for those of you I know are sharing the site with. Also I'd like to personally thank the lone person from Sydney, Australia for visiting the site. Worldwide Fame Baby!
By way of apology here is a picture of a piglet wearing Wellington boots:
Sean Jose Jesus Rodrieguez.