With Continual Reference to Justin Kahn.

Monday, March 05, 2007

In Which Having Admitted That Maybe His Living Conditions Are Less Than Previously Implied, Justin Alters His Consumption of the Arts Accordingly.

The recent white hot intensity of Truth that came forth in my confession about living in the Garbage Can Perched on the Top of a Building is just the start of a new approach to sharing about my life.

I admit that there has been some falseness on my part. That is why I am trying to purify the representation of myself and even the arts that I consume, which will ultimately shape how I see myself and the world.

Who talks about the life I live? I mean all of the sudden watching reruns of Dallas, feels false. Going through my DVD's and CD's a lot is going to have to go.

In the end, all I may have left is the Boss.

Who else talks about things like driving along and thinking that the axles of your car are breaking because you have just heard a loud Snap from the rear of your car, followed by a very strange echoing metallic sound, followed by a moderate loss of control of your car?

(If that was an episode of Dallas, I missed it. Which I didn't, because I have seen every episode.)

Only to have the Tire Repair Specialist tell you that what happened is in fact that there was somehow a screwdriver in the tire, and that no it would take too much force for some other fourth quadrant blogger who is jealous of you to jam the thing in, that it must have just been the kind of freakish accident that occasionally happens to Us Salt of The Earth Folk in the Good Ol' U.S. of A.

Down here in Jungleland.


maleah said...

Whoa. Cool. All I ever got was nailed... er, screwed. Ah, nevermind.

Justin said...

I didn't even know you had any relationship with the Boss.

Comrade Kevin said...

That's good that you kept that screwdriver as a momento. Later in life it will be one of those things you can pull out of a shoebox to tell the story to your grandchildren about how you got a flat tire on your automobile because of it. Then, they will say "Grandpa, what's an automobile?" and you will feel totally ancient.

Justin said...

Comrade K,
I already feel totally ancient, just imagining having grandkids.

Erin said...

9,327. That is the total number of 'hits' Concept of Irony has generated since 2005. Exciting to be sure. However, before you set your sights on one of those skeezy American Apparel banner ads (truly the sign that a blogger has arrived), there's something I think you should know. Since early May of 2006, I have been 'viewing' COI on every computer I come into contact with. This keeps the hits 'unique'. I use the cell phones of people at the bus stop, blackberries pocketed on crowded elevators, stolen laptops for sale at flea markets and pawn shops, and as many computers as i can log into at every major university in Northeast Ohio. I do this every day. Of your 9,758 hits (I have 17 Department of Defense computers and a Playstation 3 constantly generating false IP addresses so that 'the hits keep coming' even now as i type)I would say at least 7,491 are me. I just thought you should know. It's not that i'm trying to destroy you. It's more like my quiet way of owning you.

see you at the coffee shop.

Justin said...

First of all, I want to thank Erin for putting more time into his comment than I put into my blog entry. People come here for quality, and I appreciate that someone is willing to actually make the effort to turn COI into a quality site.

Having said that, I fully acknowledge that 7,491 of my profile views are from you (But watch what I am about to do), however only about one percent of my readers actually look at the profile. Which means I still have like a billion COI page views which are not accounted for by your Mad Clicking Skills.

Darn that colleague of yours,what's her name: Anteater?

Thanks for calling it a coffee shop. I'm not willing to address my problems. See you there.

P.S. Why does everyone block their webpages from me?

maleah said...

Who said it was a relationship? It's just something that happens on the road.