May 31, 2007
the pbw summer sex issue

turtle sex.jpg

i saw this once. it took me seven hours to realize that turtles have shells and hence the top turtle was not “protecting” the bottom turtle

though i know i am white and young and entitled to, in a disturbingly large portion of the universe, allowed to gawk at r. kelly like he was some sort of schizoid, i sort of don’t, because, you know, i don’t really listen to all his records in the first place. i’ve been chewing on double up lately, though, because i wonder if i see anything in him other than the occasional punch line (though yeah, i subscribe to the position that–i’m paraphrasing john darnielle–”if you don’t think r. kelly thinks it’s funny to talk about how the ‘remix to ignition’ is actually the remix to ignition over the song itself, then you’re racist”).

anyway:

r. kelly, did you write “sex planet” before neptune was tossed out as a planet? i’m curious.

incidentally, i like the idea of a sex planet, a lot, actually. it’s comforting.

other than that, i guess i feel a little bit inspired by how shameless he is on “leave your name,” and really like the bounce on “i’m a flirt”–auto-tuned vocals::t-pain as hair::samson–but, y’know, another summer, another r. kelly album, another gaggle of hip young kids saying “did you fucking hear the new r. kelly album yet–hilarious!” and mock grind-dancing and whatnot (i still only grind to julee cruise, “sleepwalking,” “i love how you love me,” and “donna” by richie valens on my warm brian mcknights).

except for “the zoo.” what we need more of is “the zoo.” “the zoo” is a song about doing it like animals do it, which is sort of an old trope, but a refreshing one, especially after wallowing in all-to-human psychodrama and all-too-human bullshit like “hanging out in bars” and “talking to girls” and “analytical thinking,” especially in the summer, even though i have pretty much gotten out of doing drugs that make me feel like i am actually a lizard. and i really have no problem admitting that the closest i have come to sex in the recent past is watching episodes of planet earth at four in the morning or eating an octopus. bird sex is violent and uninteresting, for the most part. ape sex…fine, i can handle it. turtle sex is uniformly great, which i think has more to do with turtles, who are in no particular rush.

i’ve been trying to disguise myself at the dog park lately, because i feel like the dog owners are on to the fact that i don’t actually own a dog and am just there to whistle “the zoo” to myself and watch the dogs carouse. favorite dog is one i’ve named TAILS, a sprightly creature that looks like a chihuahua wearing an enormous orange muff. tails has this thing where he’ll only hump dogs at least four times his size, and he really jackhammers in there, and the big dogs pretty much don’t notice, or notice a little less than a horse notices a fly.

this post is dedicated to r. kelly and tails, for inspiring pungent misanthropy and furthering my confidence in anti-social behavior.

please make sure to check out woebot’s new mix, which i’ve been enjoying a lot, and i think has a great conceit: sonic cousins to the panda bear album. calypso, new agey stuff, henry cow side projects, beach boys, van dyke parks–well-considered and quite fucking great. it almost makes me want to post my own summer mix.

GETTING WARMER at 2:00 pm, .