Here we go again.

——
“I’m not what you’re looking for,” he said, and kissed her again. With the sum total of their indiscretion strewn about the floor, shirts, jeans and panties draped across furniture and bedpost, they appeared a picture-perfect version of American infidelity. Man and woman, neither committed but neither completely unavailable, talking, laughing, screwing in blissful nonchalance. She was born into a devout Catholic family. If only her father could see her in this cesspool of sin.

“How do you know what I’m looking for?” The passion of the moment was drained away by his comment, and she searched the room for her clothes, eager to return them to her body, as if by dressing she could also cover the reality of what she’d just done. He simply smiled and lay back on the bed, inflated by confidence and pretentious bravado. The antithesis to her shame.

“You don’t have to go,” he said slyly, the intonations of his speech dripping with perverse desire. He wanted her again, and he knew that she did not care to oblige. The coupling would remain a secret. At least he wouldn’t tell anyone; he had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t either. For him, it was another notch in his belt, an unwitting female duped by his bullshit charm and prey-on-the-weak mentality. For her, it was something altogether different. One of those regrettable moments she only hoped she could be forgiven for, by friends, by future lovers, by God. She could merely pray that karma would somehow find its way back to him, that the full weight of his actions would come crashing down on him in sweet justice. She would not hold her breath.

She finished pulling her shirt over her head and saw her backpack sitting in the chair beside the bed. The red wine stain from the night’s romp still stood out plainly on the bag’s white canvas exterior. She would not forget, lest she buy a new backpack. But even then, she knew she’d still remember. A stapled stack out of papers fell out of the bag and onto the floor. She bent to pick it up, this time careful to prevent the back of her shirt from rising. No more would she show skin. She retrieved the syllabus and returned it to its previous location.

Without so much as a goodbye or a nod or a wave, she turned and strode to the door, confident that his gaze was still on her. At the entryway, she paused briefly, long enough to say, “I’ll see you in class…professor.”

Something I started up at the end of last semester but never kept going was what I called sketches, brief 300-500 word fiction snippets. I did a couple of them, and then stopped. But, I promise ladies and gents, I’m gonna try to keep it going. So, with that in mind, here we go.

—
Had anyone been paying attention, they would have seen it coming. If just one of the patrons in this small convenience store in the middle of East Texas had been only slightly aware of their surroundings, they would’ve picked up on the signs, the small events and circumstances that set off the chain reaction, and things might have gone differently. But even in rural Texas, the social constructs of isolation and ignorance toward fellow human beings gets picked up. It happens later than elsewhere, but the trickle-down effect eventually reaches the small pass-through cities, even this one, known only for a Super 8 Motel and Wal-Mart.

And so nobody paid attention when Gil, the town’s record holder for most consecutive nights in the lockup because of public intoxication, came shuffling through the door, his brown Carhart jacket stained by beer and the foul smell of stale whiskey on his breath. Nobody paid attention to the snot-covered rag he held in his filthy hand, the way the dirt under his fingernails mingled with caked phlegm. Nobody saw the news report the store owner was watching on his miniature television, the way his eyes flicked back and forth from Gil to the screen.

The student, back home from college for the holidays, didn’t notice. He kept peering into the cooler at the selection of beer, wondering if his fake ID would work in his hometown, where everybody knew him.

The doctor didn’t notice, too busy working his BlackBerry in hopes of finding the list his daughter created for him.

The mother didn’t notice, and just managed to stop her two-year-old son from destroying an entire shelf of candy bars, starting with the Snickers.

But the owner, he noticed. He saw the way Gil looked sick, how his eyes drooped and his nose ran. How his body shook with the slightest of tremors, probably because of a fever. He saw the list on the television screen of the symptoms, each one matching Gil to a tee. And then, as the drunk approached the bread aisle, he coughed, and everything went to hell.

Here’s this week’s edition of my Faces of Austin column that I write for The Daily Texan. For a video, go here.

—————–

Every morning, Spencer Scorcelletti wakes up at the Austin House of Guys, a self-described “fauxternity” that sits at the corner of MLK and Rio Grande Street. He gets out of the lofted bed he built and exits via a pole stretching from floor to ceiling – also built by him. He gets ready and exits the house, taking a deep breath before mounting the tandem bike he rides to school. He’s the free rides guy, the energetic guy riding around campus day and night offering rides to needy students. When he talks, it’s clear he’s capable of hitting it big, discovering the next big philanthropic project. And like all great initiatives, you have to start with a little freedom.

During the summer, all my roommates, they’re all smart and they went abroad, so I was the only person here. I was totally by myself, no one was in town, and I was just so bored.

One of my roommate’s brothers had a tandem bicycle, and he left it at the house. I got to thinking about how bored I was, and how fun it would be to fix up the bicycle, because it was broken, and just ride around town and ask people if they wanted a ride home, because it’s funny for one person to be on a tandem bicycle.

Once the school year started, I fixed it up for my friend’s brother, thinking he wanted it back. But, he never came and picked it up, and it just hit me: free rides. I got on there and rang that bell and said “free rides” and the whole sort of philosophy of free rides was made known to me.

The philosophy is freedom. Free rides. It’s totally pointless, it’s stupid, I know. I’ve given about 120 or so rides. That’s less than like a thousandth of a percent of campus. Who I’ve actually assisted, not too many people when you think about it. But everybody sees it, half of campus at least. And I can’t tell you how many people have come up to me and said, “You just made my day.” The philosophy is to spread this idea of freedom and break people out of their shells.

No tips accepted, no sexual favors, that’s disgusting. I’ve been offered both. I let my roommates tip me; I give them rides everywhere. I think if I ever did accept them, it wouldn’t be for myself, it would be, for example, to buy a helmet, but someone already donated one.

All my passengers have to wear the helmet. I care a lot about my passengers.

I just want to be someone on campus that’s making people smile or doing something different. I feel like everyone around us is always on their cell phone or always texting and it bothers me. We’re surrounded by beautiful, attractive, funny people. We’re at the right age, and we’re sitting here and we’re not enjoying each other.

I give slightly more rides to girls, but guys usually go further. Guys see it very pragmatically, but to girls it’s just like a novelty.

Usually people aren’t going too far, that’s what’s so funny. It’s really nice to take someone who really needs a ride, but for the most part it’s taking someone from like the West Mall to the UTC. I really do like it when I get the opportunity to take someone further, like one time I took someone from Jester to 33rd and Guadalupe.

I give rides at night, because I’m really concerned about people walking home at night by themselves. I try to help anyone not in group. One dude ran up to me, and he was just dripping with sweat. And he said, “Oh my god. I was literally just praying that you would show up, and I know you don’t give rides at night, and I just heard your bell…”

I said, “What’s the problem?” and he said, “This girl just called me, she needs help on her calculus homework,” and I was like, “This is an emergency, hop on.” I took him really far and the whole way I was giving him the pep talk.

I once built a bike and had it for like a week, and I took it to a restaurant, and then I left to go buy some tickets and came back and the bike was gone. The owner told me he cut the lock and threw it away and some other guy came and picked it up. The week that followed, I was convinced that the bike having left my life was responsible for this awful, I can’t even describe it, it was the worst one week of my life. And then one day I was walking and this guy was on the bike. I walked over to him, wasn’t even mad, and just said, “I think we understand each other,” and he got off. My entire life just completely returned to normal immediately.

If you want a ride, whistle. Or, that wouldn’t be loud enough, don’t do that. Just say, “Hey free rides guy.” Or Facebook me. I do appointments. I love appointments because people always expect you not to show up.

So, I was browsing YouTube for instrumentals of hip-hop songs earlier, and…

Actually, let’s take a minute and think about that for a minute. I, Robert Rich, was browsing YouTube for instrumentals of hip-hop songs.

Alright, minute over.

The reason I had undertaken this task was because my girlfriend teaches dance classes in Round Rock every week, and one of them is a hip-hop course. Since she’s teaching ten-year-olds, you can’t really play full songs, be they edited or unedited. So, I set about trying to find some of the better instrumentals online, and instead got distracted watching videos of…

I’MA LET YOU FINISH, BUT BEYONCE HAD ONE OF THE BEST VIDEOS OF ALL TIME! ALL TIME!

I digress. An interesting phenomenon I came across while searching for these videos is what I’m going to call the “YouTube flowz.” This is where users post in the comments section their own raps, I’m assuming based on the beat of the song in question. They are, in a sense, amazing. Keep in mind, though, amazing does not always equal awesome.

Keep reading after the jump for some exmples, and even a YouTube flow from yours truly.

1. Jay-Z .. “Run This Town”

The YouTube Flowz:
“I Steady Eating/ Steady Preaching/ Steady Teaching/ To These Young Cats In The Game/ Who Steady Reaching 4 The Gun Instead Of They Goals In Life/ Iam Spitting Real Shit If It Ain’t True Then Hit The kill Switch/ It’s To Many Young People Dying/ To Many Mom’s Crying/ To Many Angel’s Flying/ I Stay Focus It’s Called Tunnel Vision/ I Seen It All Dats Why I Got A 100 visions/ While You Eating PopSecert I Keep My Shit TopSecert/ Hot Boy On The Block Dats Why Da Cops Creeing….” by getsilly4me69

“they just wanna listen to what I have to say/
like how my disses could make your colors fade to grey/
You’ll be knocked before the round even started/
one o my disses turn your whole world retarted/
mess you up so bad in your mental state/
everything you learn just comes up late/
now you fricken function at a slower rate/
now you know not to mess with the GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ” by azndreamerx

2. Drake .. “Successful”

The YouTube Flowz:
“Im The CEO
Of Young Money Cash Money In The R-I-O
Brazil
We Feel You Nigg-s
And We Running On Treadmill
People Like Calling Me The L-E-O
You Know
If You Dont
You Just Gonna Die Nig-a
Oxygen Gone Low
Who Can Survive
In The Strive ” by YoungMoneyPriday

“this verse is for you pussyass niggas,
you aint gonna get down
you ol rookie ass niggas,
you shot a nigga?
or you shot at a nigga?
thats the same dam question,
i been askin this nigga,
he said squeezed a gat,
but he aint neva pulled the trigga,
he dont got enough strength in his index finga,
this kidd blowin up now jigga
you betta sign him now before he get bigga,
the next rick ross,
he the ceo the head boss,
im so weel fed i gotta remember to floss. ” by boii2mann

And now, the world premiere of Robert Rich’s first YouTube Flow. I’m too lazy to actually put this to a beat, so just enjoy what you get. There will probably be more to come, but for now, here’s a taste.

“I gotta call you out, witcha pant leg rolled
I’ma gonna run you down like you just stole
Something from the cold, girls on the pole
Sexual euphemisms bout things goin’ in holes

I’m white as hell but you can’t cope
Just hope that your grip on the rope ain’t broke
Cuz I’m strong and you ain’t
I’m hard, you gonna faint
Down in the gutter, takin’ shots at your mother
Your sister’s a ho and don’t get me started on your brother

Watch out, I’m about to blow
In every sense of the word
Run tell your friends
But fuck what you heard
It’s Rich, bitch.”

Thoughts?

Squirrels are terrifying. At least, that’s what the two girls walking to class in front of me this morning would tell you. As they headed toward campus, a squirrel crossed the road and leaped onto the sidewalk in front of them. The girls froze. The squirrel froze. They looked at each other, while I tried to go around them because they were taking up the entire friggin’ sidewalk.

And then, without warning, the squirrel took off toward them, and they flipped out. There was screaming, high-pitched squealing, and they tried to turn and run away, bumping into me in the process. I wish I’d had some Cheerios or some form of food so I could have fed the little guy, which probably would have terrified the crap out of them.

Aside from irritating me, it also got me thinking about what animals are acceptable to run away from and be terrified of, and which ones , well… not so much. Here’s what I came up with.

Animals you shouldn’t be afraid of if they run toward you
1. Squirrels
2. Cats
3. Small Dogs
4. Hamsters
5. Sugar Ants

Animals that, if they run toward you, should make you fear for your life
1. Lions
2. Gorillas
3. Black Widows
4. Rattlesnakes
5. Perez Hilton
6. Kanye West
7. Jimmy Kimmel
8. The Eminem type of rain walkers.
9. Chad Kroeger

Feel free to fight back if #9 makes a run for it. Everyone in the universe will thank you.

Your turn. Add to the lists, let’s make this a collaborative effort.

A lengthier post is (hopefully) coming later today, but until then, let this satisfy you.

If the weather is overcast and chilly like it is here in Austin, you should be listening to “Los Angeles” by Peter Bradley Adams. Sets the mood, fits well, makes you feel something. Anything.

Copyright marklarson

I love revelations, those times when everything becomes clear and deep-seated mysteries of the universe offer themselves up to you, ready to be explored and discovered.

Today’s revelation: The 5 types of people that everybody becomes when it’s raining outside. We finally got some really cool weather and a bit more much-needed rain today in Austin, and while walking to class, I saw one of every one of these people.

I have conveniently compared each personality type to a celebrity, to assist in the ease of understanding of my amazing discovery. Let’s take a look.

1. The Eminem
I’m acting like I don’t care, but that really makes me look like a douchebag

You know the type. They usually have short hair, and no matter what the temperature is, they’re probably wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Oh, and they don’t have an umbrella. Why, you ask? Because they’re too cool for an umbrella. They’re a badass, someone you should envy, someone you should want to be. Or at least that’s what they think. In reality, we all know they look like a tool.

2. The Elizabeth Banks
I’m struggling with maneuvering in the rain, but I look so damn cute doing it

This type is predominantly female, and may or may not have an umbrella. If they don’t, they’re trying to walk quickly without running and are at least covering their head with something, most of the time failing. If they do have an umbrella, the wind is blowing it around and making it difficult to keep it under control. Most importantly, though, they’re just so adorable battling the elements.

3. The Brad Pitt
I actually am cool, and everyone knows it, but I don’t flaunt my badassery

This type, male or female, is someone that knows how to handle an umbrella. They know how fast or slow to walk to ensure they get the least amount of rain on them as possible. They know which puddles are too deep to walk through, and which ones will give off just the right amount of splash, so as to make it appear that they’re walking through the legendary mists of Avalon, purposefully headed to some greater destination. Oh, and if it’s a dude, they can use a pink umbrella and not look like a tool, flamboyant homosexual, or nerd. They’re just a dude with a pink umbrella.

4. The Robin Williams
I’m expending way too much energy trying to stay dry

This type is all over the place, frantic. They’re walking quickly, haphazardly stepping in puddles and disregarding anything but their destination. For once they reach that endpoint, they will be away from the rain, they will be able to put their umbrella away, and all will be well. But, they’ve gotta get there first.

5. The Jimmy Fallon
People have faith in me, but I continuously let them down

This final types is usually comprised of the, err, nerdy type. They’re mostly intellectual, and therefore you’d expect them to have some plan calculated to keep them from getting wet, some contraption they designed in class whisking away every droplet of water that gets near them. Instead, they let you down. They’re awkward, they step in all the wrong puddles, their umbrella keeps getting turned inside out by the wind, and sometimes they even slip on the wet paint of crosswalks. They’re funny, but in all the wrong ways.

So, there you have it. The five types of people when it comes to walking in the rain. Which one, dear reader, are you?

From my review in today’s copy of The Daily Texan.

Supergroups are scary.

On paper, they always look fantastic: a collection of phenomenal artists mixing and matching their styles until it becomes an amalgamation of brilliance, some unknown mash-up that tickles our eardrums and stimulates a struggling music industry. In reality, they’re often pretty underwhelming, and a lot of times they just suck. So, for the avid listener, the best thing to do is hope for something that’s average and unspectacular, but at least entertaining.

Which brings us to Monsters of Folk. Comprised of Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis of Bright Eyes, and singer/songwriter M. Ward, the band formed five years ago when the musicians would sit in on each other’s sets. They decided to make an album, and what resulted is pretty much exactly what folks heard during the live concerts.

Despite the fact that James and Ward are two of the best folk-rock artists today (we’ll ignore the basic irrelevance of Oberst and Mogis), they simply don’t mesh well together.

There’s not a song on the group’s self-titled debut that’s bad, but it all sounds entirely too familiar. Depending on who’s singing lead vocals, each track simply plays as a My Morning Jacket, M. Ward track or Bright Eyes track, with some extra guest musicians singing backup.

Songs like “Whole Lotta Losin’” and “Baby Boomer” have the bopping ‘50s throwback feel of most of Ward’s songs, and could have easily fit in on his last release, Hold Time. On the other hand, “Man Named Truth” and “Map of the World” have a darker tone — a minor-chord laden tension you’ve come to expect from Bright Eyes. James’ tracks play out the same way, recalling early My Morning Jacket records, before he decided to take a more Prince-like vocal approach.

All of this combines to make Monsters of Folk an interesting but inconsistent release. The four play well together, and when they do harmonize it’s a pleasant mix of some of folk rock’s past and present key players, but there’s nothing to write home about. This album won’t blow your mind, but it will give you pause as you try to decide whether to keep it labeled Monsters of Folk in your iTunes or split up the album into its respective parts, putting each song with its proper singer.

There are plenty of reasons I love Muse. Thanks to a video making the rounds today, I’ve got another.

The band performed on an Italian television station, but were told they’d have to use a backing track (i.e. lipsync). Not to be forced into doing something they don’t want to, the band decided they’d allow the backing tracks, but neglected to tell the producers who plays what instrument, meaning vocalist Matthew Bellamy overexaggeratedly rocked the drums and normal drummer Dominic Howard showcased his vocal skills. Because of this, “vocalist Dominic” was even interviewed after the performance. Kids, this is how you stick it to the man. No lip-syncing!

It’s amazing how the music that’s playing can affect the way you view things around you.

Let’s look at an example.

This morning, I was headed to work (the content of which will be explained in a later post), and I came to a stoplight. So far, so good. The music blasting through my crappy, busted out speakers was the new MUSE record, [em]The Resistance[/em]. In particular, “United States of Eurasia,” a very Queen-inspired track that makes great use of musical tension.

As I was waiting at the stoplight, and as the music was beginning to become more intense, transitioning from a light piano melody to a section with a bit more going on, a red Jeep passed me, pulling up to the light in the turning lane. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the reverse lights come on, and just as the music’s coming to a crescendo, the jeep speeds backward and comes to a stop beside me. The dude in the passenger’s seat rolls his window down and motions for me to do the same.

Call me paranoid, say I’ve watched too many crime movies in my day, but I just knew he was going to pull out a gun, aim it at me, and all the things I’ve yet to do (i.e. go ghost hunting) would pass me by. I’m not writing this as a ghost myself, so of course he didn’t pull out a gun. That’s not to say it wasn’t still entertaining. Let’s take a look, in script form.

DUDE: Hey man, do you wanna buy some speakers for your house?

(Beat)

(Robert glances around awkwardly)

ROBERT: What?

DUDE: Some speakers! We’ve got a delivery from San Marcos but it isn’t gonna make it. The bossman is just gonna throw them away. I’ll cut you a deal.

ROBERT: Uh, no thanks.

DUDE: Ha, your loss man. They rock.

(Jeep drives away)

And scene. I’m not sure if those dudes ever sold the speakers, but I did learn that I’m probably too paranoid. Either that, or incredibly stupid, considering I still rolled down my window to talk after being worried about getting shot.

PS: Rob ‘N Roll is back. Like, for real. No theme, just random crap. I feel like I can sustain that more than claiming it’s an entertainment blog. Let’s (for the seven hundredth time) Rob ‘N Roll!