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Posts Tagged ‘DJ Steve’

Another Day of [Lifting Fog]

March 28, 2017

You don’t have to, but listening to “Another Day of Sun” as you read the first however many words of this essay on…self-doubt? (idk) might help you get in the proper headspace. Your funeral either way, dude!

The scariest thing about penning a new Lifting Fog Post™, aside from the forever concern that I’ve “lost my mojo” (Editor’s note: it was never there to begin with), is addressing how much time has inevitably passed since the last one. Now in the Early Days™, this wasn’t much. Hiatuses lasted about a week depending on how many ‘OC’ episodes I’d decided to burn through, and apologies were easier when the act hadn’t yet been abolished by the 45th President of the United States.

Then time wears on and those silent weeks become silent months, become silent years. Suddenly it’s 2015, ’16. The fans are out there clamoring for new #content and I’m over here*, paralyzed by self-doubt and/or women who wisely fled the country. I couldn’t write even if I tried, and I definitely didn’t try!

Keep reading!

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The One Where We Say Goodbye

April 20, 2012

Well, here we are. Four years, 300+ posts, and shockingly few personal changes later we’ve arrived at the end of the line. It’s not that there’s nothing more to say — in the realm of personal blogging there is always more to say — but that, for two 25-year-old guys with non-childish aspirations…it’s time to put away childish things. (Writing about real-life Hamburglars could not fit this any more perfectly.) Near the end of The Return of the King, Gandalf tells Pippin of a “far, green country” that lay beyond death. In no so many ways that’s where DJ Steve and I are headed — outside our digital comfort zone toward a world that’s terrifying and beautiful and unavoidable and here it is and OH SHIT WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO NEXT.

Keep reading (for the last time)!

“Lifting Fog to Retire” says Lifting Fog Staff

March 22, 2012

The press has gathered and the mics are humming, so now’s as good a time as any to make the big announcement. Nearly four years after launching our blog and Digital Playground ™, Lifting Fog, the time has come to finally close the door…

…turn off the lights…

…cut the cord…

…and every other ending metaphor available, because if you’ve keyed in to anything here in 300 posts it’s that we never say briefly what can’t be beaten into the ground, mercilessly. Terrible writing at value quantity is sort of our thing.

While it’s true that we’ve already had, like, twelve false deaths since May 2008 (consider them practice!) this one is definitely real. So long after ‘The Dark Knight’ premiered and Sarah Palin lost the Vice Presidency, we’re really, really calling it quits. Run-on sentences and all.

Keep reading!

To DJ Steve on His 42nd Birthday

August 31, 2009

1172270909_happy-birthday

And we didn’t think you’d make it past 33 with all the…well, you know. So happy you’re still bombing around! To those reading this in the Burbank area, be advised that Steve will probably pull out his guitar at some point tonight and ask you to join him in a Jimmy Eat World-ish version of “With a Little Help from My Friends.” Indulge him, this is his special day. Kisses!

PS – Although this post is filed under the “Junk Drawer” category, it’s worth mentioning that Steve is not, in fact, junk. At least junk gets picked up.

A Completely Sentimental Post About Blink-182

February 9, 2009

8915578Amidst the 37 and a half performances at last night’s Grammy Awards, one event stood head and shoulders above the rest – the announcement by Mssrs. Hoppus, DeLonge, and Barker that after four years of “indefinite hiatus,” Blink-182 was finally getting back together. For those of you who have taken your graduation from high school to heart and “moved on” with your lives, a brief Blink refresher: they were your favorite pop-punk band ever. From 1999 (when their quadruple platinum Enema of the State made it the teenage-iest summer ever) to maybe 2002, they were top of the heap for mildly angsty music dressed in Vans and non-threatening spikes. They were your late 90’s, much peppier and more toilet humor-oriented Nirvana. (But nowhere near as talented DON’T SHOOT ME.) They were your suburban rebellion. My suburban rebellion? I said I DON’T WANT DINNER TONIGHT, MOM.

Click to keep reading, or whatever. I don’t care.