Wednesday, August 31, 2005

trust the experts.

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"here emotions were stored. poured in bottles and sealed with wax, they were given different labels: brandy, vodka, georgian wine; but in actual fact the bottles were filled with sadness, gaiety, unbridled anger, touching trustfulness, irratibility and recklessness. the emotions were biding their time. in due course they would come out of their glass prisons, and hear stupid farewell toasts, and run riot in hands clutching at tablecloths, on lips kissing at random, in lungs taking in extra air in order to sing 'moscow nights' lustily. "time is on our side," they told themselves, as their many colors gleamed in the electric light. "our cause is just. our day will come..."
--nikolai arzhak.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

in hangoverdraft.

why did i drink last night? what was i thinking?
(well, i suppose that i wasn't -- i was too busy drinking.)
inebriation sidled up, hit on me without warning
& this liquid lover won't leave my bed this morning
i shouldn't have embraced the pitcher, grasped the glass
i should've turned away when that fine ale made a pass
but a pint of flattery is impossible to resist --
the beer hopped over and kapow! we kissed.
so i sat on a wednesday night and drank with my peers
we yapped about life, love and failing careers
and now i have a hangover the size of dumbo's ears
hot damn, i've been seduced into my carlsberg years.

Monday, August 22, 2005

monday bloody monday.

Here in my dim little office sits
an untouched stack of creative briefs
but all i can do is listen to the cars greatest hits
lethargy and time-wasting have become life motifs

the problem, of course, is too! much! choice!
shall i wax on about LCDs? or wireless? or pills?
with such exciting options, my heart can't help but rejoice
i'm OD'ing on inspiration and choking on thrills.

and the bestest part? this glorious week has only begun
like, there's so much to do, yet so little motivation!
i mean, there are songs to download! online games to be won!
like aerosmith, my mind be on permanent vacation.

so here in my dim little office I sit
with procrastination, now i'm officially smitten
so i'll just sit here and chat and rock out and shit
those brilliant headlines will just have to wait to be written.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

cheers to advertising

Let's raise a glass to the best agency in the city
where the interns are green and the girls are pretty
Here's to staying late into the night doing creative duty
To complimenting the boss and kissing questionable booty
To nodding seriously about mail that most think of as junk
To writing headlines about baby products to Slayer and Crunk
To self-important co-workers puffing up chests
To under-sexed account directors leering at breasts
To awkward "how are you (I could care less)" conversations
To pseudo praise, fake kudos and insincere ovations
To heinous expressions like "keep that in your backpocket"
To dividing your human life into mechanical dockets
To client presentations that dramatize the 8 x 10 envelope
To relying on Budweiser in order to cope
To daydreaming of writing that's meaningful and true
To being out of Bud and having to settle for Blue
To a lovely summer evening wasted typing up shit
To moments wondering, "my god is this it?!"
To realizing truly you could have a far duller career
Without the absurd jokes and the free flowing beer
To sucking it up and getting down to that writing
To trying to turn boring projects into the exciting
To getting this done & done no matter how bad.
Raise your glass. Drink up. It's the weekend: how rad.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

the big idea: a sonnet

You wanna hear a sonnet? I'm ON IT!

I waited all day in my office for you,
But you loved me and left me, you miserable jerk
You're the Big Idea, and you aint been true
You cheated on me with every writer at work
You wooed me with formats and concepts and such
You promised me kisses (you promised me copy)
I opened my word document, awaited your touch
But you left me alone and professionally sloppy
Your trysting and tricks have drowned me in sorrow
I hear you're giving headlines & getting subhead
And now I got nothin' for client tomorrow
(if I hide under my desk, will they think that I'm dead?)
From now on i'll settle for long lunches and beer
Hell, that sounds way better than wasting time here.

Thursday, August 04, 2005


blood on the wall

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soul on the stereo

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salvation in a box

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Wednesday, August 03, 2005

day in the life of a copywriter

wait for brilliant copy to materialize!
watch blank page for hours, and then realize!
that copy aint magically appearing before my weary eyes!
wonder why my boss ignores my desperate cries!
gossip and bitch quietly so as to avoid the office spies!
ultimately throw some lines down that i don't despise!
sigh with resignation as another day slowly dies!

i suppose i could add a few more lines about how i
eat a few rhubarb pies!
or change into my smurf disguise!
or even listen to guns n' roses classic album lies! lies! lies!

but i'll refrain. instead i'll explain all these anxious exclamation marks. you see, this week i am booked for over 50 hours of big bad client time. that means i am supposedly spending 3000 minutes of my week penning brilliant headlines against wholly unrealistic deadlines. but, you know, i think i am ready for the challenge. oh yes. i have stepped into my phone booth (or office, as the case may be) and have emerged, the madvertiser, superhero of copywriting, able to write utter crap faster than a speeding bullet, destined to throw bullshit around in client presentations like spiderman throws that cobwebby shit.



Sanding down the meaning of a Stoli sunburned smile
It's the breeze that blew me backwards to that Muscovite meanwhile
Falling deep into obsession, onion domes and concrete rock
Cops with roses and machine guns gracing every city block
Running through the cd market, spending power in Fili park
Russian cigarettes, chai, coffee, Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark
Tree-lined walkways, hidden courtyards romanced me to a swoon
Sipping bottled gin & tonics, shot me straight over the moon
As he offered me his loving, an LA Raiders winter hat
Plastic cups of sweet sweet nothings flowing freely as we sat
In the time that words half spoken, floated right over my head
Lost my dictionary last night, woke up hungover in bed
Did you spend a long time thinking, sitting cold at the North Gate?
I was only kiosk hopping, and I told you not to wait
If the day could last forever, would we still be drinking there?
Playing love on the old metro, skipping through that Red Red Square
Taking time to look life over, twinkle toes on beer soaked bar
Deep down dreaming, magic city, how I wonder where you are.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005


Monday, August 01, 2005

hirshorn and happy

if i could move into the hirshorn, i would. would anyone notice if i tucked myself under a haring, or threw down my sleeping bag by that klee? oh, probably. but really, it is the kind of art-mecca i could happily spend all my days in, flitting from abstract to abstract, dancing from modern to postmodern and back again. and when it was too nice to be inside? i'd just take my tea in the sculpture garden. (weeee! more pretentious words i have rarely seen come from my typing fingers -- actually that might not be true, i was once a semiotics student)

here is the latest reason for hirshorn-worship -- the brilliant
  • visual music exhibit
  • -- from kupka to kandinsky, how music and art connect. an adventure in eye candy and of course, ear candy too.