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2011 YEAR IN REVIEW

@ Molly-Rose. @Hitch Fan. @ Raccoon Society,
Hey Hitch Fan & Raccoon Society, Hey Molly-Rose :)
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I perused a quote about reason and faith, here, so just wanted to leave a quick insight. Times still ticking. So, get ready, like the countdown goes, remember get your dose of Caffeine and ample supply ready, time is here and now, handy keys to the DeLorean, ready, count it down .... 4,3... is seven,2,1... twenty-one go!
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Bringing in “reason” as a debatable perspective is an arbitrary moot inception of hanging on over a cliff after getting caught in suspended animation. In earnest, I’d rather crony up with a like-minded anarchist that befuddles the imposition-ers of faith is somehow equatable to ever be torn asunder by absence of reason as a supposed and dull exploitive of why not to have faith or presumes faith constraints reason. How tired and bored is that perspective, faith is sans reason, etcetera, as how tired and uninspired the word medley of “how tired and uninspired” is in a sentence. Truly, think, open-mindedly, if you are going to stand to incept reason into the mixture.
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Faith is not constraint of reason. Human expectations are the constraint of reason. When you expect an outcome, expecting defies the natural progression of reason and the possibilities of reason, cause and natural common-sense by reason. Esp if an expectation is only geared or rendered for a specific outcome that is meant to propagate a furnished idea – that is what constraints reason and undermines reason. Faith itself is not a constraint in and of itself.

Faith scrutinizes reason in the same manner that reason scrutinizes faith. Even if you are construing my comments in a sense of Biblical faith, (my own affections on Faith is, faith is faith, regardless of own individual’s personal sentiments) it should be applied to bare it as a pertinent truth of your conscience, if it is in tune with your own accordance of Faith. The insight is similar of a notion and passage Mat Devine shared in a previous entry, from the Bible in 1 Thessalonians “"Test all things and cling to that which is good." 1 Thes. 5:2
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The insight is, by mere contemplative states of the least of reality that is truly, utterly, ever known or knowable is dependent upon the realization those that follow the limited intelligence of humanity are no different or variable than those who believe in an infinite power or being. Except, that, the latter ones are not contained w/ limits of other people’s interpretations as to what the individual(s) believe or have faith in believing. In other words, of course, there is an open defiance of censorship. As the effect of censorship in many formulations is non-productive or progressive, plus attempts to suppress individuality and environmental compatibility and functionality. Individuals have an innate right and will, to believe / have faith in what sets their own life in accord with how they truly feel and be able to live according to a sound in-tact own conscience. The utopic is it ought to be a morally/ethically approach that is not projecting undue negative renderances into another person’s life. Give and take , choose battles, our world is further everyday from a utopia considering the majority has shunned itself to ignoring the dystopic qualties that are here right now and that media at large has veiled in elaborate dunce cap shrouding that dystopic societies are in the future although the dystopic future written about as Fiction is actually happening now. If you need hot lead dead giveaway tell-tale, read the Hunger Games. Reality shows and a corresponding match like Survivor and the way our governments handle it citizens and slowly revolve into revolutions is starkly illuminating in contrast to what science and governments would sooner have you believing recently. Citric awakening happens, just like heads up 7-up, goes round by round like kisses on the forehead of what you’re willing to fight for and go to battle.
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Morning tune ready for the day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSkb0kDacjs
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Personally, I think, plus, prefer, to be limitless w/ willingly choosing to have faith in an infinite that harkens possibilities that exuberate all realities and endless potential for the greater good and bless those who are willing with talents that incorporate into their environments rather than something that devoids humanity of its own existence and destroying itself within by the contraptions of limiting itself like is so often seen and has already been duly established by the acts of science and people having a follow mentality to the state of science and scientists own propulsions of ideas and constructed basis’s that are feasibly assembled for mass production to the herd mentality that those of lower I.Q’s or sheer follow mentality will gobble up without having to test and proof it and prove that the theory itself or basis of scientific belief is sketchy. Esp taking into vantage perspective, equal opportunity intelligent licensures that can compute the information readily on-hand and disseminated to be shredded apart by the citizens sans academic luxury degrees handling inspecting statistics, quantities and exacts, in other words, the scientific misnomers blatantly compiled as derivations alleged to be fact sans exact intricate intra-acted ways of actually testing and provable.
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Thus this ///.... “"Faith is the surrender of the mind; it's the surrender of reason, it's the surrender of the only thing that makes us different from other mammals. It's our need to believe, and to surrender our skepticism and our reason, our yearning to discard that and put all our trust or faith in someone or something, that is the sinister thing to me." ~ Christopher Hitchen ...////
The quoted sentiment is also a mentality that ought be evenly distributed and thus applied to science in the same rigor of scrutiny; otherwise, science in a whole would be an easily reasonable standing on reason sham completely. People whom fully put their faith (be earnest and real, that that’s what is happening) into science, as a bunch of atheists often do blindly, are, again, as I wrote briefly to “Fellow Heathen” no different than the people they claim they are different from whom have faith including certain atheists that are attempting to devalue those individuals whom believe faith in God or deity/deities, et al. So, let’s prevent the ostracization by some ethos that eludes incorporating the fragility of the argument done towards only shunning the hypocrisy of its actions in statement, as is clear with the ///....“Of all the supposed virtues, faith must be the most overrated.”...//// bit of the quote. Anyone with a brain embedded permeating reason plus own foresight is able to tear it tinker tape red, pulling apart the fallibility of the application of exclusion. So, well, let’s say it for what it is, for those who may get a bit riled or bewildered by the notion that that Hitchens quote has to be able to stand soundly to its own accord and then some to win over anything in such a debatable topic of query. Which whoever posted it aka the person behind “Hitch Fan” left it to, what is surmised as an attempted permissive gainer for something it isn’t rather than be seen for what it is. It is what it is; so let it stand to be, and let it be what it is.

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So, what to do, what to do…carry a smile, just smile at all times, esp. smitten. :) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKrbAUjBbvU&ob=av2e
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Charles Kingsley, said, ///....“And we shall be made truly wise if we be made content; content, too, not only with what we can understand, but content with what we do not understand—the habit of mind which theologians call—and rightly—faith in God.”...////
If you consider the application of – ///....“we shall be made truly wise if we be made content; content, too, not only with what we can understand, but content with what we do not understand”...//// – you would sooner or later come to deriving the conclusion, if you apply it to theologians that it would then need fairly be dispersed to be applied to scientists and science’s schematics, as well.
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Since, yes, a bunch did catch the flip-syde subtleties and am no longer so-so much M.I.A on-the-grid stats as prior (except at a backwards C//S, let those bones right ;) and sticking true and loyal to odes n’ codes Patrick Henry stylistic lovers “Give me Liberty or Give me death” stance of a prose writer and a bit of an unconventionalist, by art and its unconfined nature, I’d rather par up with movers and doers and standers, with the following quotes. As, this vantage scope of the playing field is where and why art comes into play and tests the grounds. Art endures. Art offers the companionship of the formidable connections of now, urgency and longevity. Legacy – such a regale atoning attenuation intonation inflection to the word while delivering an infliction to naysayers. Cruxly, appropos, regardless, if all there is, is this, every day, every time, I’d rather know within all is aligned in my soul anytime death knocks. Just, must gotta have something to share and faith upon for all those marvelous and wonder-filled death feats after-all. Nil sin Numine.
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Maybe humanities’ expectations need to be readjusted? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HO1OV5B_JDw
“Skepticism Is The Beginning Of Faith.” ~ Oscar Wilde
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///....“In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't.”...//// ~ Blaise Pascal
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///....“I heard once of an American who so defined faith, "that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue." For one, I follow that man. He meant that WE SHALL HAVE AN OPEN MIND, AND NOT LET A LITTLE BIT OF TRUTH CHECK THE RUSH OF THE BIG TRUTH, like a small rock does a railway truck. WE GET THE SMALL TRUTH first. Good! We keep him, and we value him, BUT ALL THE SAME WE MUST NOT LET HIM THINK HIMSELF ALL THE TRUTH IN THE UNIVERSE.”...//// ~ Bram Stoker, Dracula
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///....“We fall from womb to tomb, from one blackness and toward another, remembering little of the one and knowing nothing of the other...except through faith.”...////~ Stephen King
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///....“That in such righteousness /// To them by faith imputed they may find ///
Justification towards God, and peace /// Of conscience.”...//// ~ John Milton
Ciao.
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///catch the captcha exjst9////

NL7, hi-5alive! on January 25, 2012 at 04:11 PM
2011 YEAR IN REVIEW

Mat I recently started my GCSEs and I'm stressing out so much. I've only had two exams so far and they were Maths and History. I have to resit my maths because I didn't get a C and I think I have failed my history exam.
I learned today that you have to get at least a C in Maths, English and Science to be able to get into sixth form and I started crying because I don't think I'll be able to get into sixth form now. But to be able to do what I want when I'm older I'll need to go.

Becky on January 24, 2012 at 03:59 PM
2011 YEAR IN REVIEW

Hey Mat! I think you might find this interesting.. Especially the lack of information we've gotten about ACTA.

http://anonops.blogspot.com/2012/01/things-you-need-to-know-about-acta.html

hanners on January 24, 2012 at 10:18 AM
20 QUESTIONS- Lightning Round PART II: My Breakup with Snooki, Marriage, Music, Public Puking and more...

Mat, what do you think a cure for shyness and when you can't say things right around people you like is ?

Valerie on January 21, 2012 at 01:15 AM
2011 YEAR IN REVIEW

Dear Mat,
I am 16 and I've been invited to my mum's best friend's birthday do in April. She's having it in a posh Hotel and Lodge in the countryside and it sounds great! It's strictly 18+ but I've been told I'm allowed to go which is great!
The catch? I have no idea what to wear. It's advised that girls wear address and, after prom, there is no chance in hell that I will be caught wearing a dress! It made me feel so uncomfortable. So, I need your advice. What should I wear? I don't exactly have a lot of money to spend and I don't want to go looking like someone I'm not. Have you any ideas? Oh, I forgot to mention, it's a masquerade so any thoughts on what type of mask I should go for? Thanks Mat, see you in March.

Hannah

Hannah on January 20, 2012 at 04:27 PM

Archives

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Tour Blog; DAY 11,12: LONDON, GLASGOW; My T-Mobile Nightmare, and What the Hell is Spotted Dick?

Posted on June 18, 2010 at 04:04 PM

En route to Glasgow we have a day off in London… of course we all scatter like stolen jewels.

Greg and Maddox go sightseeing: Abbey Road, Parliament, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Towers of London, London Bridge, etc..

I scrape myself down into the tube station (used as bomb shelter in WWII) and head towards a different historic landmark: the T-mobile Service Center in Kensington… had to get my Crackberry™ functioning internationally…

It’s heartbreaking enough to spend even one minute indoors on a rare beautiful day in one of my favorite cities… but after 2 hours of circular logic with tech support, fresh sweat starts tricking down my ribcage and it gets impossible to keep my “inner rage” very “inner” anymore;

“Lady, we have the technology to control a fucking probe that’s drilling for fucking water on Mars. Right? 200 million miles from here… ON FUCKING MARS. Ok? So explain to me AGAIN why I can’t receive text messages while I’m in Europe?”

Kicking stones like Charlie Brown on the walk back to the bus -passed my fav Earls Court 24hr Tesco… I fucking CHERISH Tesco… biggest grocery store ever.. Usually I buy a ton of food and wine there, squirrel it in the bus and throw a little feast for me and any other hyenas... but this time I opted for something with a little more panache. After my T-mobile meltdown, this “bloody yank” had to go old school.

J Sheekey in Leicester Square is an institution –dark mahogany walls…faded B&W pics from the golden era of London theatre.. I had ray wing for the first time- unreal – and I’m always entertained by the charming ‘Lost in Translation’ moments.. little cultural differences..

for example, here in England, Jersey Royals are potatoes with thin skins.. and Spotted Dick is… well, I have no idea, but I’d bet it’s superb.

I wouldn't last one day as a waiter in this place.

“…and a Spotted Dick for the lady?”

GLASGOW

Excited to get to Glasgow… great memories here…

Only in the UK would you name your restaurant something this cute. Scrumpy Willow and the Singing Kettle

Before soundcheck I went out exploring the high hills with views of the city.. beautiful.. stumbled upon the Glasgow School of Art… and from the first whiff of photo chemicals, I knew I had to trespass…

I walked for an hour through the galleries and down the halls.. looking in the studios.. I miss my college days.. the goth kids and ravers.. the bad sculptures.. being nervous on the first days of each semester…

The King Tut’s crowd lived up to their reputation…The show was a riot from the moment the intro started... .

At one point I saw a journalist in the front row shake his head and take critical notes after I dedicated “I Wanna Be A Kennedy” to Sir Sean Connery… I also saw our guitar tech, Chris, puke off the side of the stage. Business as usual.

we collapsed back into the dressing room, drenched, beat up, happy..

After showers we hung out at the Dead Mau5 afterparty… then The Garage with My Passion…dancing like fools to hilarious ironic top 40. warm beer in plastic bottles… it’s a UK thing…

“umm. This is warm”

“They all are, mate.”

“Can I get a cold one?”

“You yanks just love your ice don’t you.”

“I guess you could put it that way. Call me crazy”

“what?”

“nevermind.”

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Tour Blog; DAY 10; PORTSMOUTH. Hovercrafts, Zombies, and How NOT to use a tongue scraper.

Posted on June 14, 2010 at 07:15 AM

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The clutter in my bunk is growing every day. I try to fight it, but it comes right back. Stronger.

5am: “I surrender. I can’t fight the jungle any more. I have no choice. I must become the jungle.” ;That's my last semi-drunk thought before i finally manage to fall asleep… still in my boots and jacket…facedown… humping the gigantic pile of books, clothes, wine bottles, and fan banners.

6am: A Tour Manager’s hairy finger pokes my shoulder. He whispers, informing me that we are currently parked on the lowest deck of a large ferry about to sail from Holland to England. He says I could either A) stay in my dark little habitat and go back to sleep (sensible. obvious.) or B) I could join the other passengers for a sunrise breakfast (kill me) on the top deck.

I shut my eyes, but just knowing we’re in the bowels of a boat, I feel instantly claustrophobic and paranoid. Drowning scenes from maritime disaster movies flood my brain and kill any hope of returning to slumber mode; Das Boot. War of the Worlds. Leonardo and Kate Winslet running for their fucking lives… ok I’m standing now.

Feel like shit… don’t know if I have just a hangover or full-blown malaria… brush my teeth in the dark.. eyes still half shut- i unwrap the brand new purple plastic tongue scraper i bought yesterday on impulse. Lets try it out.. the instant it touches my tongue, I projectile vomit. Did NOT see that coming. Through the tears I squint at my blurred reflection in the mirror. Good morning beautiful angel. You're a winner.

Cleaned up the sink. Brushed my teeth again… and left the bus.

I made my way up the stairwell as far as the cafeteria level, slugged a coffee, and promptly passed out against a wall between two slot machines… -had bad dreams about zombies surrounding and attacking my family. Maybe cos I’d just seen this sign:

Woke up an hour later to an email from my good friend Brad in NYC, who's younger than I, notifying me of his plans to seduce and marry my grandmother, thus becoming my step-grandfather… solely for the title and bragging rights.

Couple hours later the ferry docks and I automatically smile… so happy to be back in the UK…

We are too early to load into the venue, so the bus parks in Southsea, Portsmouth.. a once-beautiful resort community dotted with semi-abandoned amusement parks, arcades, and cafes…very Lost Boys

No one else is awake, so head out for a walk...

The sky is familiar; low, thick, dark and swirling… the rain is only spitting.. not pouring. Just enough to give me Tom Hanks bangs.

I order an Earl Grey tea and carrot cake in a tiny beachside café… watch the families strolling around.. smile at the cute kids with the accents.. they all sound like Christopher Robin from Winnie the Pooh to me.

walk to the shore and climb the ramparts of some long abandoned fortress at the edge of the continent… and just stare out, soaking in the classic English gloom.. choppy seas… ghosts of dead sailors and their widows... wish I had my iPod.. i'd play Disintegration

Just then a hovercraft sped past in the distance. Cool. First one ive ever seen in person. Want.

Pull up to the venue.. great seeing all the die-hard fans lined up early.. spend some quality time with the local chapter of our beloved KHK street team

Took this pic across the street from the club. i love the Arabic writing on the sign. I don't know many Arabs named Ken, do you? Is his last name Tucky? Is his middle name Blatant Trademark Infringement?

A large shipment of new tour shirts were delivered… felt like xmas morning…

Backstage… hours before the show…I started taking steps to heal my damaged vocal chords (steam, avoiding speaking, hydrate, anti-inflammatories, sprays, warm-ups, etc…) –got them back to only about 60%- frustration.

My stage clothes are still wet from Amsterdam show... wet.. cold.. and… Wait a second… I know this smell. Vivid flashback. it’s like I’m right there again, back in my childhood bedroom in Connecticut… cleaning out my pet snail’s tank. I miss my snails. Glad tomorrow is laundry day. My bandmates hate me.

A very young girl was vying for a spot in the front-row when she got headbutted by man, resulting in an ambulance call and an arrest even before the first note of the first band. I took that as a sign… -that this was going to be one hell of a night…

It truly was. Thank you to all who came and sang along… xoxo

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Tour Blog; DAY 9; Amster-DAMN. Cheese Crack

Posted on June 1, 2010 at 03:46 PM

10:30AM The air in my cluttered bunk is like hot sap. I forgot to take off my shoes or pants last night, and various foreign coins and bracelets and torn pages of Esquire are stuck to my sweaty ribs. I fumble for my stocking cap and smell it. "Mmmm." Nice bouquet. Somewhere between an Istanbul street market (“paprika?”) and a Shea Stadium urinal. I punch open the curtain for some oxygen and notice the strangest thing: pure silence.

Where is everyone? No one was playing Bass Strike on the PS2... no one was laughing at incriminating photos from the night before.. Chris wasn’t puking. Eerie.

Then it hit me: We’re in Amsterdam. …or as the hip hop community says, “Amster-DAAAAMN.”

While I slept, a morning search party had been organized. The Mission: to locate, purchase, and smoke various “exotic” cigarettes in the café’s… -early enough to allow SOME hope of returning to this dimension of reality for Soundcheck at 3pm.

By the time I poured myself down the stairs to the lounge at 10:45, (my suspenders getting caught on the railing and snapping back violently WHAP! against my bare back, FML), their delightful expedition was already in high gear.

Dan had already passed out, face down, on the bathroom floor of the White Dolphin Coffeehouse. Jack was already on a first name basis with the entire staff of Burger King, which reported record figures that day for volume of French Fries sold in a single hour.

The rest of the entourage all had pink faces, Chinese eyes, feline smiles and sufficiently warped perspectives of space and time.

Ground Control to Major Tom, Sergeant Pepper, and the Walrus

Back at the bus, its lone inhabitant was stirring… I started the espresso machine, turned to the mirror and literally laughed out loud at how shitty I looked. Hey, good morning, it’s Gollum from Lord of the Rings… that same pallor...uncooked-shrimp-gray… but at least HIS arms were toned as fuck from rock climbing in that cave all day… bouldering or whatever. I got nothin.

Outside, the weather was PERFECT for a cobblestone stroll. Blindingly bright but still a hoody chill. I stood next to the bus with that released-hijack-victim stance… fresh wind hit my face… I know exactly where we are; Behind the Melkweg on Lijnbaansgracht. I’m smiling now. We LOVE this city.

I started walking instinctually toward Bar Americain… Oldest Grand Café in Netherlands… and a one-time haunt of Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Along the way, a barrage of trams, bikes, freaky euro tourists, street performers and... Garbage. Everywhere. Yesterday had been “Queens Day”, which evidently is a nationwide riot… I felt like a parent coming home after my kid’s high school kegger. Detritus. -colorful, kaleidoscopic piles of shit... down every street, in the canals floating— it was almost beautiful…

In a quiet pub I shared a beer with a retired photojournalist named Cloete, in town for a gallery restrospective of his work... Here’s one of his famous prints.

My voice was shot… weak and raspy. Smoking is out of the question, so I just enjoyed the weather, and the good memories… Oh shit the memories.

…Like the night on the Aiden tour when 20 of us wandered on mushrooms through the carnivals.. that giant magical playground.. filming ourselves for hours on a video camera that had no tape in it.

…or the time Tom and I invented the game, Gay or European? -cos, high or not, it's impossible to tell the difference. A claustrophobic club with pink walls, bald men with neck pony tails staring at my dick… paisley silk shirts, tucked in… Old Spice burning our my nostrils… ABBA playing at full volume… “Gay?” “Nope, just European!” “Damn! I lose again!”

A couple hours later, back at the venue, we had a Meet and Greet with members of the KHK street team.. some of our most dedicated... many of whom had great KH tattoos…

Backstage, Jack and the others were still bug-eyed and high as fuck... but trying to hide it from each other. Dan and the Fabulous Bathroom Faceplant was quickly making the rounds and nearing Tour Legend status. I checked my email and learned that Swedish press had just featured us in a column called Homosexualitet. Really?

Despite my shattered voice, the show was very special... thanks to the Melkweg crowd, which has never let us down.

The afterparty was at a cool, grimy bomb shelter called Korakov, where Greg spun anthems and we danced like kids in the fog for a while. On the sober walk back to the bus, I took in my final sights of the city we love so much… veering occasionally to dodge a cackling bicyclist or avoid falling into a canal.

The streets by the city center are lined with an endless array of cheap food sources... fucking Xanadu if you have the munchies… Blueberry ice cream, cinnamon waffles, crispy fried chicken, spicy Thai noodles… any amazing crap your spinning head can possibly imagine.

Maddox and I both laughed at this poster for a minute. Cheese Crack? Really? Only difference was, after laughing at it, he actually ordered it and ate it. Stoner.