I constantly listen to new music, so big chunks of this list will be outdated by the time it's read... but right now, I'm listening to the Vells, White Hassle, the Bad Plus, My Robot Friend, Atomic 7, Ratatat, hollAnd, Creedle, Ft. Lauderdale, Gotan Project, Brian Ritchie, Carl Henry Brueggen. Perennial favorites include the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, the Young Fresh Fellows, the Who, the Push Kings, Robyn Hitchcock, Hefner, the Kinks, the Moore Brothers, Monsieur Le Roc, Ween, Asylum Street Spankers, They Might Be Giants, House of Freaks, Pixies, erm... Sir Millard Mulch.
Movies
I like bizarre characters, strange pacing, and surreal cinematography. Terry Gilliam (Brazil, 12 Monkeys), Jeunet + Caro (Delicatessen, City of Lost Children, Amelie), Paul Verhoeven (Robocop, Starship Troopers, Total Recall), Alan Ball (American Beauty, Six Feet Under), David Lynch (Blue Velvet, Wild At Heart), David Fincher (7even, Fight Club), Wes Anderson (esp. Rushmore), Luc Besson (The Fifth Element, La Femme Nikkita), Tim Burton (esp. Ed Wood and Sleepy Hollow), Napoleon Dynamite.
Television
Just ditched cable. I'll miss the Daily Show, but that's about it.
Books
Paul Auster, Iain M. Banks (+ Iain Banks), Roald Dahl, Philip K Dick, Paul DiFilipo, Cory Doctorow, Harlan Ellison, Richard Feynman, Stephen Fry, Charlie Kaufman, Chip Kidd, Jonathan Lethem, John Montroll, Jim Munroe, Chuck Pahluniak, Christopher Priest, Rudy Rucker, Robert Silverberg, Neal Stephenson, Theodore Sturgeon, Hunter S. Thompson, John Varley … visions and ideas taken to extremes always interest me.
His eyes took in the room's contents in one quick glance. The spilled India ink, the orange wig. The set of butter knives, shining like bad intentions under the careful moonlight. "Maybe I don't need to encapsulate my thoughts in quote marks," he remarked to himself. Perhaps he was right.
Picking up a random object -- a matchbox put to unplanned uses, the carefully-lettered label on it reading Goliathus Legs -- he wondered about the meaning of it. In fact he wondered about the meaning of it all, this smallish space, crammed to the rafters with all manner of objects, conceivable and not. Did each one serve a purpose? Or were they merely thrown together in this volume, with only chaos and chance to determine whether they had anything to do with each other?
Taking a seat (on a well-traveled but empty sea-chest), he began taking inventory.
Who I'd like to meet:
"Now this one here," he thought to himself, forgetting for a moment that the quote marks were unnecessary. He was looking at a framed collection of butterfly wings. On the back was stamped the date that the item was entered into the collection, and a ragged card, affixed by some sort of gum, noted how many people had already looked it. He imagined a shadowy figure, holding it up to the light, tilting it this way and that to make the iridescence catch the light and throw it back screwy. Pretty, he though, momentarily proud of the absence of punctuation.
How many people have considered this item, he continued, considered it and then placed it back, to rummage for perhaps a broomstick studded with bycicle horns, or a papier-mache aphid. A glance at the card told him that 432 people have done just that. Everyone comes in here looking for something -- it would be so much easier if they knew what, but that's the nature of this place.
What was he looking for? He really didn't know. Something with levers, gears, motors and wheels, to take him to locations unknown and unthought-of? Something with a large array of lenses and prisms, a device made for perceiving the world in fascinating, sometimes disconcerting, lights?
The sea chest creaked under his weight. He glanced around again, wondering where to start. If only there were someone who could help...
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