speak when you're spoken to

the moments in the fall where a deserted, leaf-blanketed street seems to cry lightly with its dampness are perhaps more in number than this nation’s glut of emo boys deserve. after all, i just experienced two such moments this weekend. one of these was special, however, in that the background noise of the occasional wind gust was by-and-by infiltrated with the trebly notes of brassy depression-era music. as i found my footsteps falling in 4/4 time i considered walking back and forth for a while along that same strip of road. the main reason i decided against doing so was not because i would have appeared demented to any passersby, but rather because repetition corrupts memories.

fibrous

i keep track of time using events and markers rather than eight digit dates. there are basically two eras: mtv and pre-mtv (usually referred to as the cereal era). before nineteen hundred and ninety-one, when i was given my first compact disc player and first allowed to watch mind-rotting mtv, i mentally kept track of things by what cereal i had a crush on at the time the event occurred. i’m not sure if this is telling in some ways but my personality lends itself to diving in deep when something piques my interest. thus, when i found a cereal i liked, i tended to eat no other until it’s course had run, be it two weeks or three years. and during that era it wouldn’t be surprising to hear me mutter, “yeah, i was just starting on corn flakes” in answer to a question about when i’d first solved the legend of zelda. i was reminded recently of the rice krispies ii period. those were the good times when i started eating bananas with my puffed rice. and no mention of a j-lo video was needed to specify the date.

what i'm into right now

what is it about british accents that enhance indie pop rock so? i can’t stop listening to the kooks simply for the choruses where the word “i” sounds like oy (but not the australian kind). headlights is an above average indie band, but their song “put us back together” is so chilly-autumn-night-y that it’s gotten extended plays on my mind’s soundtrack, overtaking the kooks while i took out the trash in the midnight chill.

summary of saturday skipping lots

i met all kinds of characters saturday night. i was first at a nerd-themed party at a white and turquoise house. add a rabbit and carroll would have been quite at home. though most of the people were in costume i feel like the attractiveness level was sub-par and that reduced my happiness quotient. the punch was also made with vodka and not everclear, making my eye tear up for just a second. there was good nineties music, however, and microscopes and flashcards, the foundations of every good box social. the best part of the evening was when we left the house fifteen strong to drink at a bar. we may have looked like dorks with our glasses and brains and whatnot, but no one can deny we drank like hardcore geeks.

in writing

"it's been a while"

isn't that what you always say?

"nevertheless...it just feels different. where have you been?"

busy

"the others. they managed to participate"

i've changed my lifting routine

"really?"

it was time

"what were we talking out?"

my body

"before that"

how glad you are to have me back

"yes, that sounds about right"

anthems for a 26 year old boy

if you’ve never seen broken social scene in person then you are now officially not as cool as me. actually you never were, but at last i can say that i’ve experienced the bss magic. these canadian superheroes have the power to change my mood faster than any drug or single person. it was unfortunate that my friend rebecca couldn’t make it (she’s allergic to fun now), but it gave me a great sense of joy that i made a convert out of the person i did take. introducing persons to good music and having it stick gives me the feeling that evangelicals must get when they convert a sinner.

the show was opened by do make say think, an instrumental ambient/mood/indie band with a lot of wacky time signatures and tempo changes. they were good enough to make me annoyed with the people talking around me. but none of that happened when the eight-strong crew of bss began their set. the pin-drop silence reflected our deep reverence for this band’s songwriting (in my opinion their arranging is the best in the indie scene) and musicianship (they all played more than one instrument). while favoring the newer self-titled album, they played a few songs from you forgot it in people as well. one of the highlights was “anthems for a seventeen year-old girl” sung by feist herself. “fire-eyed boy” and “7/4 (shoreline)” were amazing as well. and throughout the set they kept claiming that mr smalls theater is one of their favorite places to play in the world, which is cool because it means they will come back some day.

explanation of the gap in posts

after a thoroughly enjoyable weekend spent in the state of pennsylvania (that’s not a typo) i am left with the slightly sweet taste of day-old bellini in my mouth. a surprisingly pleasant drive on friday through autumn-y tree-lined country brought me to the eastern portion of the state. crossing the proverbial railroad tracks into philly for the first time was fun, like the first time one walks into a new thrift store. i.a.n.v.w. and i went hopping from bar to bar downtown early in the evening, giving me a taste of the history of freedom in between sips of booze. they complemented each other like darryl hall and john oates. we stopped for a while at a nice restaurant with garish halloween décor, topped by a two foot spider among wisps of asbestos webs. the drinks were free and the conversation good, however, and after we ate we headed to see minus the bear at the trocadero theater. they always play well, but there seemed to be an excess of annoying teens in the area in front of the stage. there is never a reason to wear a backpack whose girth you can’t wrap your arms around to an indie rock show. overall drunken impressions of the show were positive, however, even though mtb did heavily favor the new album for their set list.

saturday was a true day off for me. we went to the art museum in the late morning, passing some sort of crew event on the river. i’m not sure when art is best viewed, but fall-like weather seems to be ideal. later we went to a small record store which i enjoyed mostly because it only carried music that we snobs consider good. thus we spent the better part of an hour perusing the small store, as every inch was interesting. next amstel light and playoff baseball and envelopes for the early evening, until we left for a small town for the night. a couple mutual friends were hanging out there and the timing was too good to pass up. so we went out hopping again. first was a wine bar where the belinis were not complimentary but flaming all the same. of course i had one. next on to a higher end restaurant slash bar where middle age people were dancing to pop music. after a few mixed drinks and meeting lauren’s local friends we went to a local dive-ish bar. i was challenged to an unnamed sporting event by a sober girl which i readily accepted but will probably never happen. i’m not sure what happened when we got back to lauren’s place but i think nachos were involved somehow.

this sort of thing needs to be repeated. yes, i think that’s a grand idea.

what makes a city

charles barkley, seventy sixers, brotherly love, g. love, i76, moses malone, a.i., liberty bell, east river drive, balboa, shootin’ b-ball outside the school, schuylkill, delaware, mike schmidt, len dykstra, phanatic, lindros, franklin, hancock, and t.price.

up curve

i am pretty excited about the next week. put yourself in my converse sneakers for a minute. now pretend you are more attractive. now assume that you are scheduled to see minus the bear live on friday, and then broken social scene the following wednesday. even though you’ve seen too many shows to count, you have never seen any of the bss lineups before and that makes you anxious. and though you’ve seen mtb many times, this show is in a city you haven’t yet visited. yes, you have reason to smile, don’t you, fake-t.price?

muse chaining

in my line of work there is a theory that nothing is impossible. in other words, progress is limited only by creativity. nevertheless i am stuck in a rut of circluar thinking. neither minus the bear nor broken social scene could help me break this ring. what is the next logical source for inspiration? i suppose tv on the radio.

foley's not as bad as he looks

this post from the poor man institute is the funniest thing i've seen since i videotaped myself doing the twist to chuck berry's "you never can tell" opposite a very uma-like kitchen broom. people should lay off mark foley for messaging a minor with impure words. because, like everything else besides religion, it has a logical explaination.

look

i am tired. there are leaves all over my back yard from a storm. i just met art last week, but it wasn’t summer. we acted like it was. i think what i really want is some confirmation. a hint from people i’ve almost forgotten. they remember the most detailed things of no consequence about me. i want to know what i used to be like and retread that ground. i think it involved a girl and a bottle. one thing is certain, however. i am tired. and the leaves are everywhere.