Tag Archive for 'the shins'

Sleep Never is Dead

So I got a call from members of the Shiny Toy Partridge Electric Family Circus Posse as they were rolling between somewhere and everywhere. I answered the phone to find a duo of spazzy voices asking me the obvious, if it was in fact me answering my phone.

My affirmative reply was followed by a sigh of relief and an explanation by the callers of the reasons for their strange behavior. Apparently there were “internet rumors” flying around that I died yesterday, though I’m still not sure what the “rumors” were exactly, or the cause of my make believe death. Some girl heard that somebody said that they read that I died yesterday and that person didn’t have my number and they called so and so and so and so was crying…

At first I was psyched. “Internet rumors” about me? Fucking hell! I’ve arrived! But after a comprehensive Google mad search of the world wide web using the following search terms: Chris K., Chris Kostrzak, Christopher Michael Kostrzak, Sleep Never, sleepnever.com, dead, death, deceased, obituary, overdose, suicide, homicide, hanging, drowning, decapitation, murder, slaying and slain in an endless series of combinations, I found no evidence anywhere of “rumors” of my death. And was that a fucking letdown, let me tell you.

Super. Lame. Huge. Bummer.

Anyway, I guess I’m happy to report that I’m not dead yet, but still disappointed that I’m still not popular enough to have rumors circulated on the internet about me.

But for blog’s sake, let’s say today I was dead. Off the top of my head, here’s a short list of suggestions of things one might do to “celebrate my life” properly if they felt so inclined:

1. Burn, but do not bury the remains. (I would have referred to them as “my remains,” but seeing as I’m dead, it makes no sense to take ownership of my decaying flesh now.)

2. Instead of putting the ashes in some unreasonably expensive, ugly jar and hiding them in a city code complying and so not green cement vault (which will only delay my inevitable return to the earth), divvy said ashes up into tiny Philippe Starckesque bullet-size containers (approximately 2.5 inches in length). Number of containers and list of recipients can be found on my desktop in the “What To Do When I Die” folder that I’m making now.

Give said containers to listed recipients. And at some point in the future, when recipient is moved by a moment that reminds them of me (lovely, disgusting or otherwise), scatter the fuckers on site be it on the floor of a dirty bathroom stall in a seedy Tijuana nightclub or in the seat back of an Southwest Airlines flight from Shitsville to Pleasure Town.

3. Drain my bank account. (There’s not much in there, but enough to throw a decent party).

4. Plan the best party EVER.

5. Rent house on hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean (within walking distance or short golf cart ride of the actual beach).

6. Purchase booze, drugs, condoms, art supplies, fireworks, toys, fun stuff, but no glow sticks. This isn’t a fucking rave.

7. Order food. (Catering to be provided by Julia and Greeney.)

8. Book the following bands perform live sets: Radiohead, Modest Mouse, The Presets, Scream, Daft Punk, The Stone Roses, the Rolling Stones, The Clash (to be fronted by the ghost of Joe Strummer), M83, Grizzly Bear, BJork, My Bloody Valentine, David Bowie, Dizzee Rascal, Ride, Kid Cudi, Cornelius, The Shins, Santogold, MIA, Broken Social Scene, MGMT, Friendly Fires, Blur, !!!, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Hollywood Holt, The Stooges, Brian Wilson, Tom Jones, Interpol, Soulwax, the remaining Gaylords, Primal Scream and LCD Soundsystem or whatever James Murphy can throw together on a moments notice. They’ll be more, but let’s move on for now. Tommie Sunshine will spin in between.

9. Invite my friends and family.

10. Invite my enemies.

11. Invite strangers.

12. Invite the homeless.

13. Proceed to throw the best party EVER.

14. Meet new people.

15. Make new friends.

16. Remember to be yourself and say what you mean.

17. Spike the punch.

18. Take drug of choice.

19. Dance.

20. Drink.

21. Eat Julia and Greeney’s food and remember to them how great it is.

22. Dance more.

23. Draw pictures.

24. Paint things.

25. Paint each other.

26. On second thought, don’t paint each other. That’s lame.

27. Sit on the roof and look at the stars or convince everybody else around you that they can see the bag of tools orbiting the earth that the Endeavour astronauts lost during the space walk a few weeks back.

28. Share your lives. Talk about things that matter, but don’t bring you down.

29. Smile, but don’t take pictures. This is to be remembered.

30. Sing along to the music of your favorite bands.

31. Talk about what a self-hating, pseudo nihilist, closet hippie I was.

32. Make sex with each other.

33. Do sex to each other.

34. Get freaky.

35. Get wild.

36. Go swimming or climb a tree, but don’t drown or fall.

37. Lay on the grass together and listen as Azure Ray plays a sunrise set or retire to the screening room where you can come down watching an ridiculous movie like “The Swimmer,” or an awesome one like “Mr. Lonely

38. Gnaw on something tasty until you are full and…

39. Fall asleep.

For a free pre-invite invite to the official “Sleep Never is Dead Memorial Party” hit me on the email and give me one good reason why you should be invited. Or don’t.

And come anyway.

Finally, to the departed I dedicate the “Track of the Week,” Ashtar Command’s epic cover of the Mazzy Star classic “Into Dust.”

Portland Residents Sound Off: Local Music Scene Sucks/Rules!