Purpose Pt.3

Posted in Uncategorized on March 17, 2011 by Jacob Lane

It was a funny site to behold in that living room.  Had you passed through, you’d have seen a little girl sitting in the center of a large couch.  Though she wasn’t very heavy, the softness of the cushions caused her to sink down, forming a V like pattern along the sides of the sofa.

Her eyes were moist, recovering from a good cry.  But she was fine now.  In the center of her head was a giant blue band-ade, stuck there by her mother.  In her hands she clasped the balloon.  It to had a giant blue band-aid on it as well, stuck over its gaping hole.

The girl’s mother had heard her son’s desperate cries earlier and ran outside to find her battered daughter.  With a swiftness of her own, she had repaired the girls wounds and went to work on the balloon.  She taped it shut, then plastered the ban-aid over it (the young girl was convinced this was the only way).

Afterwards she untied the ballons string and blew into the wailing rubber piece.  While it never achieved its large glory from before, it now looked like a balloon.

“I suppose I should be happy,” it thought as it sat there in the girl’s arms, “But now I can no longer float!  What is a balloon that cannot float?  Oh I wish I could start over again!”

The young girl was watching television at the moment, mesmerized by its floating colors.  The dancing dinosaur purged her brain, flushing out the day’s horrid events.  She sang along for a awhile, then crossed her legs.

She then sang again, tightening her legs harder.

Commercials passed and she continued to squeeze them together.  10 minutes passed, and she now looked like a pretzel, her body wavering back and forth.

Then the dinosaur poured some water on the plants in his television garden.

That did her in.

She jumped off the couch and rushed towards the bathroom, throwing the balloon into the air.  It floated down gently and landed on the floor.

Completely by itself, the balloon laid there, pondering its existence.  The room was quite, except for the static of the television and the bubbling of the fish tank.

However, this didn’t last long.  The girls brother had entered the room.  He was sick of buckets and wanted something else to do.

He saw the balloon.

First he looked left.

Then He looked right.

Then he looked under the couch (Always look under the couch).

When the coast was clear he snatched it up and ran outside.  For the next few joyous moment he bounced the balloon into the air like a volley ball.  Boing…Boing…Boing.

As the world rattled around the balloon, it had an epiphany.  Perhaps its existence wasn’t to fly, maybe that was only a small part of it.  Perhaps it’s existence was to make these children happy.  Even now, in its fluffy lifeless state, it was making a child laugh.

The boy continued to bounce it along (knowing full well his sister would soon be there, ruining all his fun).  With this in mind he bounced it faster and higher.  More faster and higher.  Even more faster and higher.

The balloon looked down at the peaks of its flight, each time marveling that it was much higher then ever before. The ballon was overjoyed.

Now this was happiness!

“Chris!!!!” came a blazing scream.  “Thats my balloon, give it back!”  The jig was up.  The young boy snatched it from the air, and began running from his sister.

“No! he yelled, “Stay away Caroline!”

I suppose the best way to start a tornado is to take two children and place them in a setting where they van chase each other in a giant circle.  Add to that the importance that brother must not be caught, and you get a mighty wind sweeping around.

Faster and faster they ran, the girl screaming the entire time (It really is the sister’s fault for screaming, because thats what made teasing her so fun).  The boy chuckled as he ran.  But he was younger.

Thats being his said, his legs were quite wobbly and unable to stay in front of the chase as well as they should be.  He pushed and pushed for speed, but his sister was catching him.  In desperation he pushed again, but this time he fell.




That is the sound of a ballon popping from the weight of a boy falling on it, followed by the weight of his sister jumping on him, followed by the the air of the balloon screaming through the freshly made whole were a band-aid used to be.

It was flat now.  A mere piece of plastic.

The girl, extremely unhappy, hit her brother and ran off.  The brother, not doing too much betetr, screamed, and ran inside the house.

Then the balloon just laid there…

What was it’s purpose now?

With a quiet atmosphere surrounding and a complete absence of children, rubber tears formed on the plastic.  In the entirety of one hour it had lived its life.

It laid there for days, maybe even weeks, in solitary confinement.  Occasionally the boy or girl came outside, but they took no notice of the balloon.

During that period it was rained on, stomped on, and generally abused.  The balloon had given up.  It was ready to pass on.

But one day a robin appeared and snatched it up.

I gotta go!

Purpose Pt.2

Posted in Uncategorized on March 15, 2011 by Jacob Lane

As our red balloon sputtered and spattered, it took aim at the ground.  Of course it had no control of its direction, but at that moment fate had decided to lend a hand.  An invisible arm pushed the balloon towards the girl (who was crying quite profusely) straight into her hands.

What a suprise this came to her, for in those moments she believed all had been lost.  A moment of stunned silence occurred (except for the balloons loud hissing), but not for long.  The girl knew she must act now!

With incredible swiftness she pinched her fingers over the balloons hole, stopping the incedible flow of air.  It whistled at first, but she clamped harder.

It whistled again, and she clamped even harder.  Her little fingers were almost as red as the balloon by the time she had successfully closed the gap.

What remained in her hands was only half the size it had once been.  But there was still hope.  She held the balloon close to herself, like a mother would a child, and began to run again.

But this time her speed came not from joy, but from desperation.  Her home was quite far, if she was to save her little friend she had to traverse the great distance quickly, for her tiny little fingers could not hold the balloon shut forever.

The balloon was scared as well, you see, just moments ago it had witnessed life in all its glory.  The balloon had found purpose, to reign high in the sky!  But what now?  Could it even float?  The balloon did not want to know now, it was content with hiding in the girls arms, waiting for something to save its failing body.

Little hisses of air escaped it as the girl jumped little rivers in the park, ducked under low tree branches, and slid over loose dirt.  At one point she ran through the legs of a rather tall person with a grand mustache.

“Oh my!” he exclaimed, feeling a breeze of speed rush under under him.  When he looked to see what happened, he noticed she was more than thirty yards away!

Then fifty!

Then seventy!

Then one hundred!

She was very fast when she needed to be, and right now she needed to be.

A group of boys shooting marbles appeared in her route.  Normally she would have gone around.  Normally she might have joined them.  Normally she would have then won to.

Today was different.

A few steps before the circle she lowered her body, then launched into the air.

One could compare her to a rainbow as she flew over the boys and there marbles.  She remained in the air for hour long seconds then landed on the other side.

Unfortunately she caused one boy to miss his shot.  Although he would marry her one day, right now he took a marble and threw it.  He completely missed.

She crossed a large stone bridge with an incredible arc, then turned right into extremely woodsy woods.  Left ad right she darted to avoid the trees.  There were so many!  This was not a path for the meek!

Up ahead she could make out the fence to her yard, tall and white.  With joy she yelped, and sped up a little more.  Things blured around but she didnt care, faster and faster until


She hit a tree.

She fell back violently and landed on the ground, leafs kicked up around her.  Eyes to the sky, the world blured again, but not with speed this time.  It was much different.  It blurred with red.

With one hand she continued to squeeze the balloon shut (It was now a quarter of its size).  With the other she felt her head, a warm liquid covered her finger.  She was bleeding.

Now, most little girls might cry at this moment.  I know most grown men would.  But not this one!  She was on a mission, and she was not to be stopped!

Though the world was woozy, she stood up.  She might have fell again, but a tree behind her kept her standing when she stumbled backwards.

10 feet away was her fence.

One foot infront of the other it became 9 feet,

Then 8…7….6

She stumbled a little again.


A drop of blood hit the ground


The door in the fence was swung open and in entered a little girl.  Beaten. Bruised.  Holding a little red balloon.  She had arrived.  In the sandbox sat her brother, with a green bucket covering his head, down to his shoulders.

He was a little younger then her, but had the head the size of an adult.  Unfortunately this meant that buckets didn’t fit very well, and for five minutes he had been pulling at it with all his might.  Little by little it inched up, pulling his nose up until her looked like a piglet.

Finally, with one last pull.


He slung it into the air.

Then he looked at his sister, blankly, who was dripping with blood.


Lets pick this story up tomorrow shall we,

Jacob Lane

Purpose Pt.1

Posted in Uncategorized on March 14, 2011 by Jacob Lane

Standing outside, with winds whipping my feet and hair, I am reminded of  a story, of which this is the first part.

You see, there was this little piece of red stretchy plastic laying in pile of other beings like itself.  It had been there for a awhile, deep in this dark solitary confinement.  Of course, with a vast amount of quite time, a vast amount of loud thoughts had come to the piece.

Where was it?  Why was the world so dark?  And could life exist outside its walls?

But this was rather troubling, you see, for one thought in particular continued to permeate its being during its time in the pile.  What was it’s purpose?  It could hear great and wonderful things outside of its box, smell deep fragrances, and feel the earth shake every night, but it only laid there.  Why did it even exist?

One certain day a giant hand reached into the box.  This had occurred so many times before, but our little plastic piece had always been thrown to the side, watching its brethren get lifted beyond the borders.  But not today.

As the fingers descended to its depths, the piece felt them rummage around, throwing its brothers and sisters to and fro.  A second past, and the fingers had landed on it.

If it could cry, I suppose it would have with joy.  But it could not, because as it ascended bright flashing light engulfed it with tenacious violence.  All the sounds it heard before erupted, and the smells doubled their weight.

In its blindness, It felt itself being pulled apart and snapped together by the giant hand.  At first it hurt, but soon the piece felt elongated and without pain.

Then came a noise, like that of a snake, with its hissing tung slithering in the wind.  As the piece began to adapt to the light, it realized a tube had been jabbed into it.  This tube was making that loud noise.

It also realized it had doubled in size!

Then it tripled!

Then it quadrupled!

Then it dupled twice in a row!

Until it was large and full of air, like a ballon.  Of course, by then, the piece realized it was a balloon!  A red one fact!

It was so excited to see the earth, to feel feelings unimaginable.  The giant hand from before was connected to a man.  At least that’s what the ballon thought.  This man was rather large and colorful, with giant hair and massive shoes.  He laughed a lot to, in such a goofy way.

The man grabbed the balloons end and twisted it, tied on a string, and let it snap into place.  He then let the ballon go.

At first it was scared as it ascended into the sky.  You must remember it had spent every moment of its life before in a box.  But soon it stopped, middair.  It realized that the string was keeping it from soaring away.  It was then the balloon really gazed into the sky.

Everything was so beautiful.  So massive.  So full of life. So absent, but completety there at the same time.  The balloon was overjyed.

It realized its purpose, to be high up.  To look over everything.  The balloon was to govern the air in all it’s red glory!

At that moment the colorful man handed the balloons string to a young girl.  She smiled with most of her teeth and laughed.  The ballon felt the tug, understanding it was now in her possession.

“Now you must be careful,” he said, “Don’t let it pop!  Be sure to avoid low hanging branches, and never let go of it.”

“Yes yes!” She replied and bowed (some little girls still do this).  Then she darted off.

The world rushed by the balloon, mixing into a rainbow of sight and sound.  It saw giant vehicles, red stop signs, tall buildings, sidewalks, other little girls, fences, light posts, hot dog vendors, rivers, birds, and so many other things I cannot type them all!

Such an ecstatic feeling it had, it wished to be so much higher!

Unfortunately, even though this little girl was of the bowing sort, she was not of the listening sort and she rushed towards a grove of trees.

The ballon yelled for her stop, but she wouldn’t (Have you ever hear a balloon yell? Even speak?)

She plowed through the trees and the ballon felt itself being jammed with a stick.  It sputtered all over, left and right. Right and left.  Up and down. Down and up.  It seemed like the end was near for our little balloon…

But something rather extraordinary happened!

Stay tuned!

Jacob Lane

The Roots, Iowa City Footage

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 11, 2011 by Jacob Lane

Last post I dove into The Roots performance here in Iowa City, glorifying the whole event (I tend to do that).  However, you can now judge for yourself!  Cahillgrizz has posted footage of the concert, and the video quality is super!

You Got Me 1: Starts with the song You Got Me and becomes Sweet Child O’ Mine (Gun’s n Roses) towards the end

You Got Me 2: Captain Kirk’s epic guitar solo with Bad to the Bone (George Thorogood and The Destroyers)

You Got Me 3: Owen Biddle’s bass solo with pieces of Immigrant Song (Led Zeppelin)

Drum Solo: ?uestlove and F. knuckles hammer it out, the 5 minute mark is key

The Seed 2.0: Great encore, synchronized dancing 6 minutes in

As with any concert, video footage just doesnt do justice, but I’m certainly glad to have these videos to relive the experience.

Here’s to living in the past,

Jacob Lane

The Roots…Rocked

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 10, 2011 by Jacob Lane

Last night, in the IMU, the Roots stole my mind, ears, and voice.

Pictures courtesy of The Daily Iowan

There are few groups of this caliber, with the ability to start and stop with such precision, they could be mistaken for a metranome.

The night started at 8pm with Dj Ice Cold, The Roots to take the stage at 9pm. Being under the illusion that Ice Cold was the “header,” a.k.a someone to give a preperformance before the main act, I was excited to arrive at 8pm to take it all in.

Dj Ice Cold sucked.

Essentially, he was a glorified I-tunes playlist with a cool hat and dj set up. He played through the best in hip hop songs, I’ll give him that, but he barely let the songs begin before he started the next one. At the same time, some other obnoxious performer consistently stuck his mic into the crow and insisted we respond to every little thing he said.

Luckily the Roots blasted onstage at 9pm, because I was about ready to blast out of there.

Their presence was loud, definating in fact. If their was a god of hip hop, the Roots slayed him last night. The first peice consisted of stops and starts, each one having the members freeze in place, then smashing back into the songs at the same time. Perfect precision on their part.

Gradually the music continued, flowing into various songs, until we found ourselves locked into a 10 minute drum battle between ?uestlove (yes, thats quest-love) and F. Knuckles, the former rocking the drum set while the latter mastered the bongos and such. They drilled back and forth until uniting in the middle in mind blowing proportions.

The rest of the group reunited and swept the stage once again. Another highlight came a little later, when “Captain” Kirk Douglas hammered out a guitar solo that traveled around the world. He sampled “Sweet Child o’ Mine” and “Bad to the Bone,” before erupting into monstrosity. It ended with him raising the guitar in the air while still playing. All the while his singing was absolutely superb.

Of course we received solos from Tubaist Damon “Tuba Gooding Jr.” Bryson, pianist James “Kamal” Gray and bassist and Owen Biddle. The Tuba possessed incredibale energy, but the next two solos were so and so. (I swear Owen was high, he just wasn’t “all there” you know)

When the final song came, the crowd cheered continuosly until the Roots jumped back out for an epic encore. They had thoroughly earned it.

Iv’e been to other concerts. The Gorillaz visit in Chicago will always be in my heart, but the Roots performance was the Gold Standard. Their pure mastery of their instruments and stopping and starting was truly inspiratioanl.

Thank you guys for coming out to the midwest, we truly appreciate it.

And thank you Scope for putting it together.

Keep it real,

Jacob Lane

And so it begins…

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 9, 2011 by Jacob Lane

Thanks for visiting my new blog for The Happy Landfill,

Allow me to take a minute and describe what can be found at the Landfill.  It’s my streaming radio show that plays every Thursday from 6pm to 8pm  on the KRUI website in The Lab (Link to the right).  Thats just the physical aspect…

The Happy Landfill is a haven for all kinds of music, from funk to rock, hip hop to classical.  I suppose one could call it an orphanage of sound and color, where you never know what song comes next.  It stems from my philosophy, to truly appreciate music one needs to open themselves up to it all, to intake it as a whole and spit out the bits and pieces you don’t like.

Me, I’m in love with hip hop and techno, but there do come times when I just need my classic rock.  It’s a moody place for my many moody musical moods. 

At the same time, Its a place for current events.  Being a journalism major, I take in the the media every day.  The Happy Landfill allows me to rant about the world, its politics, and whatever I feel. 

But there comes times when the randomn occurs, when guests arrive with their own music, or old time radio shows are played.

To put it simply, The Happy Landfill is everything.


Jacob Lane