This is Cameron Leahy

Cover of “Range Life” by Pavement Download 4 FREE!

Wed, 03 Mar 2010 23:55:21 -0500

Cover of “Range Life” by Pavement

O, How the Might Have Fallen

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 16:05:00 -0500

I think it’s interesting how Americans love to embrace the anti-hero, the loser, the downtrodden. Kind of defines who we are as a people—descendants of the god-fearing Jamestown settlers who abandoned England for some strange new land where most would initially die, few would survive, and many would eventually flourish. Nothing swells our hearts like the diseased, the poor and the persecuted. Those are the individuals we admire—the ones who face adversity, the ones who overcome incredible odds, the ones who stand up for those who cannot be heard.

But then, as swiftly as we have lifted them up, we unceremoniously cast them into the flames. For as soon as that monumental shift occurs, when the underdog becomes the champion, that is when we no longer root for them. Our loyalty is limited. They begin to symbolize what they once had stood to oppose. The critics no longer outweigh the devotees, and for this they become corporate, they become mainstream, they’re Ronald McDonald, they’re Pizza Hut, they’re MTV. And we hate them.

Tom Petty once said, “Even the losers get lucky sometimes.” Great lyricists always have a way of saying so much with so little. What I love about well-written lyrics is their ability to leave the meaning open to interpretation. You’re forced to fill in the blanks, to make it apply to your own experiences.

Side note: When someone tells you that “Song X” by “Band Y” is the greatest song ever, don’t scoff at them, because “Song X” IS the greatest song ever… to them. You probably just dislike it because your ex-bestfriend suggested the band to you a few years back and now anytime you listen to “Song X” all you think about is how much you fucking hate your ex-bestfriend. All the while this other person probably heard it right after receiving negative test results for some terminal disease they thought they had, but didn’t, and now “Song X” becomes the soundtrack to their second chance at life.

Perception is as varying as a snowflake or a fingerprint.

The point is, what Petty states so eloquently is that no matter how often life shits on you, one of these days you might just get yours. And isn’t that what we all would like to believe? We associate ourselves with the loser. We are all losers who want to be winners. And despite our desire to be one of them, we despise all of them. Maybe less time and effort should be put into tearing down these individuals who we’ve helped build up, and more time doing something for ourselves. Maybe if we channeled those energies into something positive, we’d all “get lucky sometimes.”

Or maybe (and more likely), we need the winners, because in many ways they are vital to our very existence. They are the scapegoat on whom we rest all of the blame for our bad fortune and lack of recognition. And they are the backdrop against which we define our own sense of individualism. We are the suffering artists and they are the over-paid phonies. We are the Truth-Tellers and they are the Bullshitters. It is a twisted, symbiotic relationship that we share as a people.

-CL

Visitors

Wed, 10 Feb 2010 19:39:00 -0500

The city is submerged in snow. More similar now to a post-apocalyptic tundra or frozen Atlantis. Thin pathways are cleared to navigate the streets, where only a glimmer of the black gravel shows through a sheath of ice. Walls of snow line these narrow trails. The many layers within them indicate time past, like the rings of a fallen redwood. It reminds us that at one point in time, snow fell, and no one cleared it away. That not too long ago, we weren’t here. An indication that our presence is unnecessary. We are visitors. And we are owed nothing.

-CL

Conversation between wealthy businessman and homeless drunk lying in the gutter… Businessman:...

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 05:53:00 -0500

Conversation between wealthy businessman and homeless drunk lying in the gutter…

Businessman: Pardon me, but you seem to be grabbing at my trousers.

Drunk: Yes, I’m — I’m trying to climb up your leg.

Businessman: Why, may I ask?

Drunk: You may! You see the — the outline of your wallet is showing through the front of your pants, but I can’t seem to reach it. You’re so high up! (Falls)

Businessman: I’d much appreciate you not robbing me. In addition, I ask that you refrain from grabbing at my trousers, you’re going to get them dirty.

Drunk: If I can just… prop myself up. Boy, your legs are like redwoods!

Businessman: Sir, you smell of cat litter and orange juice. If I give you a dollar will you leave me alone?

Drunk: I’ll give you a dollar to give me two dollars!

Businessman: Ingenious. How you ever managed to find yourself in such squalor boggles the mind.

Drunk: Yeah, well what have you done lately? You work day in and day out. And for what? More money? Money. Hah! When was the last time you vomited in public? Or kissed a beautiful woman? Hopefully not in that order. But when was the last time you saw the sun rise over a hot dumpster? Or found a perfectly good sandwich on the street? I bet you’ve never even taken the bus! Or urinated in one!

Businessman: I have a perfectly comfortable life.

Drunk: Perfectly comfortable! Hah! Perfectly comfortable is nothing but a polite word for boring! I’m poor and drunk and I hate myself. But at least I don’t…

Businessman: Don’t what?

Drunk: At least I… I… God, I really thought I had a good point there.

Businessman: Yes, I really felt like you were on to something.

Drunk: You know this — this always happens. I have a great point and then I… I lose my… my… the thing that operates on tracks that’s a metaphor for brain function…

Businessman: Train of thought?

Drunk: We have a winner! It must be from all the…the…

Businessman: Drinking?

Drunk: You sir, are a regular Nostradamus!

Businessman: And you are a pathetic excuse for a man.

Drunk: I really am! (Laughs) Is being rich wonderful?

Businessman: (Hands him a wad of money) Yes.

Drunk: I thought so.

-CL

A Trip To Paris

Sat, 09 Jan 2010 12:39:00 -0500

Ever since Jocelyn’s golden crown could challenge the bedroom doorknob, she wished to one day visit France, meet a French man, and fall deeply in love resulting in many babies. She watched French films, read every book about the country and its culture, ate brie and chocolate croissants and taught herself the French language with an instructive cassette tape on popular French phrases.

Seemingly overnight - the way life tends to happen - the distance from Jocelyn’s feet to forehead ballooned dramatically, and suddenly she was a woman. This prompted her to pack her suitcase in a fit of ecstasy and hail the first yellowcab to the nearest airport.

She made a mad dash for the ticket counter and reserved one ticket for Paris to depart that very hour. What she failed to notice in her tizzy of childhood-fantasy-coming-to-fruition, was that in fact she had booked a flight for the city of Paris, Texas… as opposed to the popular French metropolis by the same name.

Jocelyn never realized this critical error, even after boarding the Lonestar-bound aircraft, due to the fact that her instructive cassette tape on popular French phrases drowned out the voice of the flight attendant who announced the final destination prior to take off.

The plane crashed not but thirty minutes into the flight when a bird flew into the left engine causing complete power failure, sealing the fate of all 142 people aboard.

-CL

Delicate, Gentle... Man

Sat, 09 Jan 2010 07:23:21 -0500

Don’t fuck with my heart, baby, cuz it’s so precious and paper thin/Don’t fuck with my heart, darling, cuz I’m a delicate gentleman/Don’t fuck with my heart, honey, cuz if you do I might cave right in/Don’t fuck with my heart, lady, cuz I’m a delicate gentleman

-CL

My Childhood Soundtrack

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 20:35:55 -0500

The music you listen to growing up will always be the most enduring because those songs carry with them precious memories. The records that I listened to, mostly due to my parents playing them on cassettes (those existed once) are so powerful that when I hear them, I am transported back to those times. I can recall one day in particular, driving down some freeway in southern California, right around dusk, and Joni Mitchell “Peoples’ Parties” was playing on our tape deck. Whenever I listen to that record, Court and Spark, I feel like I’m there again, four years old in the backseat.

This short list of songs has had an enormous impact on who I’ve become, and I realize that the people who wrote them would probably have trouble fully understanding just how important they are to me. Look them up on Youtube or something if you get a chance.

1. The Rolling Stones - Ruby Tuesday

2. Joni Mitchell - Peoples’ Parties

3. The B-52’s - Private Idaho

4. Patsy Cline - Crazy

6. Mary Wells - The One Who Really Loves You

7. The Rolling Stones - Let’s Spend the Night Together

8. Sheryl Crow - All I Wanna Do

9. Bobby Gentry - Ode to Billy Joe

10. The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses

-CL

Cats and Dogs Living Together

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 09:04:39 -0500

Human interaction is so fascinating. It’s strange how you can meet Person A and immediately feel comfortable, but one minute with Person B and you’re already pitted against each other like fighting dogs. Some might attribute this phenomenon to good/bad first impressions, but I’m not convinced that’s the only variable. Maybe there’s something built-in to all of us, like a subconscious mechanism that measures the compatibility of a person based on your own personality. Not everybody gets along, that’s a given. My question is, what makes anyone get along in the first place?

Santa Exists

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 03:19:31 -0500

Conversation with the text-information service, KBG (aka 542-542).

Me: Is Santa Claus real?

KGB: Santa Claus is real if you believe in him! Many children do! He lives in the North Pole!

Me: Wait, so you’re saying if I believe in Santa, then he exists? Does this theory hold true for everything? Like, if I believe I can fly, does that mean I can jump off my roof?

KGB: No, you shouldn’t jump off your roof. Gravity is also real like Santa, yet we cannot see or touch it!

Touché, KGB, touché.

-CL

“Don’t you give me that face, young lady!...

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 21:43:31 -0400

“Don’t you give me that face, young lady! You’re going to wear your dead mother’s dress and you are going to like it!”

“Dad!”

“And from now on you will refer to me as Richard.”

“But Da-“

“Ah ah ah, one more peep and you’ll end up just like your mother!”

Oh god…mmm yes don’t stop! Yes! Yes!...

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:07:44 -0400

Oh god…mmm yes don’t stop! Yes! Yes! YES!!!

“Grandma, for the last time, stop watching that or I’m taking away TV privileges.”

Cameron Leahy's Unabridged Dictionary (First Edition)

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 11:45:00 -0400

Are you as tired as I am of dictionaries and their pompous definitions of words? Like, who are you, dictionary, to tell me that a “diphthong” isn’t an individual who likes to dip their thong in stuff? And howyougonna act like you know every word there is to know? Who do you think you are, dictionary? Who the fuck do you think you are?!

Well guess what? I’m starting my own dictionary. Sure, It’s not going to be “thorough” or “published”. And it will be printed on paper towel rolls. But don’t stick up your nose at literature just because it’s not bound in leather! Get off your high horse!

And OKAY. I’m not actually going to know all the words I’m defining. I’ll probably even make up some words to sound smart (ninjaism, irraticability, procrasticious).

Point is, my dictionary comes with a free CD of ocean sounds for you to fall asleep to… and a dollar. Okay FIVE DOLLARS. Jesus why don’t you just put a gun to my head? TEN DOLLARS, the soothing sounds of a sun-drenched ocean shore, and a free 10% off coupon for your next visit to Smoothie King.

Just buy my dictionary.

Someone, somewhere...

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 11:00:00 -0400

Someone, somewhere is late for work.
Someone, somewhere is discussing sports.
Someone, somewhere just drank milk past its expiration date, causing them to grimace and spit it out onto their granite kitchen countertop.
Someone, somewhere is looking in their bathroom mirror and discovering a new wrinkle on the corner of their lip.
Someone, somewhere is punching a wall in a ferocious bout of anger.
Someone, somewhere is fast asleep and missing a very important phone call.
Someone, somewhere is having sex.
Someone, somewhere is also having sex.
Someone, somewhere is not having sex, and is wishing they were having sex.
Someone, somewhere just threw their cell phone in a trash can and is too afraid of germs and filth to reach their hand in and retrieve it.
Someone, somewhere just sneezed, crashed their car and said “oh shit”.
Someone, somewhere is finding out they have a terminal disease.
Someone, somewhere just fell in love.
Someone, somewhere just fell down a flight of stairs.
Someone, somewhere is watching TV and can’t find anything good on.
Someone, somewhere is coming out to their hyper-conservative parents about being gay.
Someone, somewhere just accidently set their house on fire.
Someone, somewhere is questioning their faith.
Someone, somewhere just farted loudly at a very inappropriate moment in front of many strangers.
Someone, somewhere is laughing so hard they think they might vomit.
Someone, somewhere just ate a kumquat.
Someone, somewhere is desperately lonely and wishes to no longer be so desperately lonely.
Someone, somewhere is also desperately lonely and wishes to no longer be so desperately lonely.
Someone, somewhere is wondering if someone, somewhere is doing exactly what they’re doing right now, somewhere.
Someone, somewhere IS doing exactly what you’re doing right now.
Someone, somewhere.

CL

If the Founding Fathers Could Time Travel

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 00:43:31 -0400

It doesn’t make any sense to me that we still so blindly abide to the Constitution considering that the men who wrote it lived in a completely different time period. Men who had no way of predicting what modern day America would be like. Back then if you had pneumonia, you DIED. You need to get somewhere? Ride your horse. Don’t own a horse? Walk, asshole! And it’s not like these men were all good and wise. These are the same people who owned slaves, told women they couldn’t vote and wore powdered wigs!

Imagine, Marty McFly travels back in time, hops out of his shiny Delorean and storms into that hot Philadelphia courthouse where they’re holding the Second Continental Congress. “Listen, (flips hair) guys…I’m (heavy breathing) from the future,” he’d say. “There’s something (more heavy breathing) you have to see.”

Washington and Jefferson and Hancock and the rest of the delegates would follow him to the time machine. Ben Franklin would probably say something like, “Good lord! An electric horse!” Then they’d all cram in like clowns in a clown car and speed off into the portal of time and space.

Present day: 2009. Location: a gun show in Virginia. “Where are we?” they’d ask. Marty would go on to explain that this is in fact, a large expo where Americans, free to own firearms as they please, could congregate to sell and buy any kind of gun they desired.

“Muskets and the like, I presume?” one would ask. “No, not exactly,” Marty would say. “Actually, technology in all fields, including weaponry, has made leaps and bounds. For instance, this gun here is called an AK-47.”

“Does it take 10 minutes to load?” they’d ask. “No, actually, this one here can unload about 400 rounds a minute! Yep you could really do some damage with this bad boy!”

“My god, private citizens can’t be walking around with such a device!” one would exclaim in terror.

“Well according to the Constitution they sure can!” Marty would rejoice. “Oh and by the way, our president is a black man.”

Then they’d all pee themselves. That’s right, if the founding fathers could travel through time, they’d pee themselves.

CL

Coin Collectors' Convention

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 18:04:00 -0400

Alright well, we’re all here so let’s get started. As chairman of the coin collectors committee I’d just like to begin by saying how thrilled I am to have you all here. It’s wonderful to see so many prospective numismatists! Seeing as you’re all new members, and seem quite a bit younger than the average coin collector, I’d like to devote tonight’s meeting to getting to know more about all of you.

I’ll take it from the way you’re all looking menacingly at me that you’re very excited to share! I appreciate the enthusiasm! Now, for future reference, I see you’ve all brought along bats and empty satchels. Unfortunately, we in fact do not have after-meeting softball games, I apologize for any confusion.

Great! Anyone else think it’s a little hot in here? What a coincidence that you’re all wearing black leather jackets! And to all have matching tattoos of a skull on fire with the inscription “Kill, Maim, Torture” on your chests. Talk about a small world! It’s wonderful that the youth are displaying such a rich interest and exuberance in the hobby coin collecting field.

I’ll go ahead and share some of my favorite coins to “get this party started” as you kids today like to say! Now here is a 1943 US Copper Penny with an estimated worth of over $200,000 dollars! And here! A beautiful 1901 Silver Dollar which has a retail value of around $50,000 dollars. Look at the incredible detail, flawless!

You’re all welcome to remain seated, no need to get up just for my sake! I want everyone to be as comfortable as possible. Stand instead? Fine with me, whatever you prefer. I must point out, however, that it will be easier for everyone in the back to see these magnificent coins if you’re all seated. No? Well in that case I would just like to remind you that there will not be any softball games after the meeting, so those bats you’re holding really wont come to much use right now.

Yes, you up front? You want to get a closer look? Well feel free to come right up! See how the reflection of the coin still radiates that healthy twinkle? That’s a very desirable characteristic for any collector’s coin. Oh, you want to hold the coins? Well let me first show the group the rest of the collection and — well, alright if you insist. Here you are. Any fellow collector is welcome to appreciate its beauty firsthand.

Everyone gathering around for a group huddle? Great idea, gang! I guess I’ll be in the middle. This could be a terrific exercise for group morale. How about we all join hands? No? Well if you’d rather hold onto your bats that’s as fine as cherry pie! Speaking of that batter’s stance you’re all taking, I used to be a baseball card collector before I got into coins but —

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t be a dinosaur. Because if you can dream...

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 11:52:43 -0400

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t be a dinosaur. Because if you can dream it, you can do it.”

Down With Party Hats!

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 16:40:00 -0400

Where’d they come up with the idea to wear colorful, cone-shaped hats with an uncomfortably tight string around the chin to parties? Maybe it was to fool people into believing that the party was better than it actually was. “I had an okay time, but I guess it must’ve been pretty awesome if I was able to bear it with this ridiculous hat on my head the entire night.”

The party hat is an outdated and tired tradition, and I suggest we devise something new for everyone to wear to parties. A normal article of clothing that gives partygoers a sense of unity. No, I don’t mean a toga. Toga’s are for frat guys and dead Greek philosophers.

I propose that everyone wear an argyle sweater vest. The color is up to you. Light blue? Cool. Brown and green? Sweet. Orange and purple? NO! You cannot wear an orange and purple vest to my party, you’ll look like a moron! Charcoal grey? Works for me.

Then, instead of your friends pointing and laughing at the ridiculous cone on your head, they’ll compliment you on your kick ass argyle sweater vest and how sharp you look in it. You can thank me later, party planners of the world. Join the Anti-Party Hat, Pro-Argyle Sweater Vest movement and be part of the future!

CL

The Last American Hero

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 13:33:00 -0400

Baseball isn’t what it used to be. For our generation, all we’ve grown to associate the sport with is steroid scandals and well-tended grass. But at one time in American history, baseball was the guiding force, something that brought cities together and captivated the imaginations of children and adults alike. The men who played the sport were revered like mythological gods, burdened with the hopes and dreams of millions. They were bigger than life.

Today’s athletes are treated very differently. Sure they’re paid well, and the very best receive endorsements and coverage on ESPN. But the veil has been lifted. There’s no reverence, no magic, no mystery. I’m not an avid baseball fan, but being raised by a man who so adores the sport, I’ve grown to appreciate what it came to represent. The players were more like superheroes than professional athletes. The ballparks more like cathedrals than stadiums.

Whatever happened to the American Hero? Do we live in a time that holds no place for the god-like?

CL

self portrait of a weird boy with butterflies

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 22:40:00 -0400

self portrait of a weird boy with butterflies

So Many Books

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 20:04:00 -0400

The world is full of marvelous things
Cities to travel and books to read
But life is short and there’s so little time
To see all there is to see in this one life of mine

CL