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“there is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you in action, because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. the world will not have it. it is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions. it is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. you do not ever have to believe in yourself or your work. you have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. keep the channel open. no artist is pleased. there is no satisfaction whatever at any time. there is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others”

-martha graham to agnes demille

(this quote was sent to the casual friday offices by one of our most esteemed, gifted, and damned friends. it comes to us hand written on waitress guest checks. like any thoughtful fit of madness…)

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we here at casual friday love the cold hard facts. nothing gets us off quite more than knowing we hold in our hand that perfect ball of truth. that thing which is completely indisputable in its very being. with that said, we do understand the occasional necessity of tarting the truth up a bit: loved the (article of clothing)!; the (fill in the blank) was delicious!; so much fun!; i’ll love you forever… we’ve all done it. it’s better not to think about the smaller sins, once one goes down that twisted path its like a thousand pigeons exploding into flight right around you. it’s alarming, dirty, and loud.

with that digression firmly behind us, we’ve been working out the fine, and coarse, details of strange news received early this week. needless to say, while we are still not entirely at one with the degree of restitution that was meted out, justice was carried out to a far lesser extent than we were initally lead to believe. none the less, we continue to loosely in our pursuit of that flighty temptress truth, which we know we will never get. however, we are confident that we will at least be introduced to a near neighbor of the real story. and that, dear readers, is cool with us.

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sunset or sundown is the daily disappearance of the sun below the horizon as a result of earth’s rotation.

the time of sunset is defined in astronomy as the moment the trailing edge of the sun’s disk disappears below the horizon in the west. the ray path of light from the setting sun is highly distorted near the horizon because of atmospheric refraction, making astronomical sunset occur when the sun’s disk is already about one diameter below the horizon. sunset is distinct from dusk, which is the moment at which darkness falls, which occurs when the sun is approximately eighteen degrees below the horizon. the period between the astronomical sunset and dusk is called twilight.

“sunset” as defined by wikipedia.

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the wheelie report

needless to say, day one of wheelie practice found we here at casual friday significantly eating shit. we remain, however, resolute.

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for you.

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perhaps it is the basic nature of this modern condition that is responseible for creating a great anxiety fuled yen for betterment of the self, the family, the job, the functions of basic social interaction and navigation…

processing, boundaries, reflection, confrontations,  projections, owning have all become distinct totems in what is amounting to the wussification of society as a whole.

we have become a culture of get rich gurus hammering home the need to be perfect, to have people look at you and communicate with you just so,  to harness your various failings and tame them into some semblance of a personal victory over the self… it can become overwhelming to deal with just one’s self on a regular basis, never mind having to deeply pontificate on the soul, et seq.

bearing this in mind, we here at causal friday have been meditating on self help, helping the self, and all of those other new-agey subtleties of language that have crept into our cultural, and unfortunately personal, lexicons.

ultimately we feel that the trick of living and thriving in the face of “self helpers” is to really just make ones deficits of character work for you. we here at casual friday are but a rich tapestry of anti-social behavior patterns. we love swearing, writing our names on things, making fun of deserving practices, breaking into places we aren’t suppose to be, public sex and getting rowdy… all of these practices act as threads running through, holding us together in the face of general and specific bullshit that make up the day to day. now looking at the aforementioned, flobbery self-help culture dictates that we should cast off this quilt of personal failings. however that’s where we at casual friday think that the equation goes wrong, and give that sentiment a happy fuck off. we here say embrace it. wrap yourself up in it, let it keep you warm.

with that, may you dear readers fly through your day.

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holiday hijinks

we are deeply troubled by our blatant neglect of you, our dear readers. things around the casual friday offices have been a little more bustling than we really know what to do with. however, rest assured, you dear readers are on our minds. we promise several long satisfying blog posts about our fear of aliens and reactions to the weak sauce “alien discovery”, holiday fetes, and our impending third annual stalking of barack obama in kailua, oahu.

until then, we remain,

casual friday

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with a four day emancipation looming large, a short seven hours from where we now stand, we here at casual friday would like to share with you all our most favorite thanksgiving memories in recent years.

to begin this story, we must first maneuver ourselves into your deepest of confidences dear readers. you see, much as kurt vonnegut jr. said, we too “have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone”. basically, the shitty teen deep inside of us still compels us, alcohol and night non-withstanding, to pick up the phone and call strangers. why? because life is short and well-made crank calls are the things that heaven are made of. an example: our dear cousin once got in serious trouble for placing several crank calls to a woman she found the phonebook by the name of madonna cotton to ask her if she was a material girl. brilliant. we still get chills thinking about it.

now crank calls to civilians are great, but if one is to get their hands on a celebrity’s phone number, well friends, magical things can ensue.

with those confessions and digressions behind us, let us find ourselves in the living room in a little corner of hell that we at casual friday inhabited some five or so years ago. in our company was a merry band of loadie pranksters and our aforementioned crank-calling cousin. we at casual friday have made a tradition of having what we call a “pie party” late on thanksgiving evening. it isn’t the debauched lesbian porn party it sounds like, but instead people come over and eat pie, drink whiskey and bitch about their respective obligations earlier in the day. this particular year, we were joined by the talented cartoonist brother of our dear friend, who happened to have in his possession, by hap stance of an interview he conducted for a local magazine in a city we cannot name, the cellular phone number for one kato kaelin. let that sink in a minute. kato kaelin’s phone number.

needless to say as the night wore on, calls were placed. kato had either failed to pay his cellular bill or his inbox was filled with offers of guest house stays and movie deals, for we never reached him or his voicemail. however it is the thought that counts, and on cold nights, we warm ourselves with the beautiful memory of holding in our trembling hands, the ten digits of the ultimate crank call on earth.

may your holidays be bright and filled with whatever it is you are thankful for. and should you have the happy occasion of finding a minor pop culture celebrity’s number in your sweating hands, please do drop us a line. we will make it worth your efforts.

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we do declare…

we have been buried under the weight of two million boxes at home and three million declarations to be written at our daily indignity. however, we do solemnly swear to inundate you all with some colorful posts later today once the clouds of this busy-work shit storm subside…

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adulthood in retrograde

just an observation on how the self copes with stress- things around our rapidly approaching leap into the unknown have been, well, busy. utilities to turn off. personal affects to evaluate the sentimental worth versus the physical exertion that it takes to propel them to our new domicile. letting all of our comrades with whom we correspond, the real way- with stamps and paper, know our new address. remembering to buy light bulbs. performing personal exorcisms in the attempt to forget those things that hide in drawers and fissures; to chase off those ghosts that haunt us. and all the while, we are simultaneously preparing for upcoming sojourns to los angeles to meet our newest, smallest, family member and then a several week-long romp to the aina to get our bearings grasped and noses sun burnt.

so yeah, shits been busy. real busy.

and in the face of all of this blatantly “grown up” behavior we are having to exhibit in our daily public lives, which is obviously suspect to the very cores of our beings, we’ve noticed that in our personal moments alone a certain retrograde of adulthood. these are all pretty minor- reading young adult books, evenings of drinking syrupy liquors, listening to the 1990-2000 musical catalogs for subpop, epitaph, lookout, alternative tentacles… you know, the big guns of pissing off the parents.

lets put it this way: an operation ivy cassette has been blasting from the speakers of our adult contemporary mid-sized sedan since late october. bass cranked up, windows rolled down… what does this all mean? well, when we finally have the luxury of sitting down, why don’t you mosey on over and have a beer with us and we can walk with dead leaves crunching under our feet and discuss the finer points of personal de-evolution and its function in keeping ones shit together and ones ducks in a row.

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