over the sea

as i write this i am in a boat on the atlantic. the outside temperature is seventy-eight degrees f. some northern swells are rocking the boat more than i like, although some boat-rocking is undeniably good. i have seen the bahamas. i did absolutely nothing today, laughing at coordinated events. i don't want anything coordinated, except my trip back home. on the eve of christmas i have slightly overdosed on sun, giving my skin a holiday sienna coloring.

the middle

post-reading music: southern-space-chamber group japancakes – in memory of honey (thanks swanfungus)

as i prepare for my journey south to the tropics i reflect upon past year-end times. i wonder if i really do whatever i want or if i just do what is easiest, and that in turn becomes what i want. two toothbrushes, one razor. do i have the fortitude to turn my shoulder on people who are easily offended? the longer i wait the more i see this must be done. i’m wearing my sunglasses in the morning, but the future isn’t bright. i see i need to cut the cord to have any chance. greatness and middle-management are antonyms.

h,b,f,s

this video of an a capella group has already made my week. i am not sure where the group is from but it’s clear they are talented. i developed a love for a capella music during college. the lack of instruments is a very interesting constraint and, when done well, vocal harmonies are one of the greatest things about human music. thus, i get excited when i hear pop music covered by these types of groups. and it just so happens everyone likes daft punk. it appears good music may actually be seeping slowly into public consciousness.

wobbly post

without ale i consistently find gatherings to be a bore. so i travel lightly, making sure to complicate everything with spirits. when my spirits are low i just remember an old nursery rhyme, “liquor is quicker”, and then my glass is half full again. trees just reinforce the need for gin, and models the need for vodka. it’s too bad all my drinks are martinis these days. these days…

value at pi/2

in the endless sine-wave functions that make up my life the social wave and the music wave are exactly out of phase. i am quite alone but i have been making out with great music all week. just yesterday i saw this string of music videos on the gym screens: “chicken payback” by band of bees, “so much trouble” by matt pond pa, “pachuca sunrise” by minus the bear, and “maneater” by hall & oates. i bought “alive 2007”, daft punk’s live set recorded in france which mixes together songs from different eras dj-style. and i became aware of oh astro, a project that mixes and changes samples to create totally great tracks. their latest album champions of wonder is so good it may become my favorite of the year. if you don’t like “hello fuji boy” there is something wrong with you (it splices lionel ritchie’s “hello”, fujiya and miyagi’s “collarbone”, and hot chip’s “a boy from school”). i just wish i had someone other than my holiday tree to listen with. he’s such a rube.

snipe hunt

i think the satisfaction of tracking down an errant piece of code floating in one of thousands of files must be similar to that of a sniper connecting on his or her target. it gives a brief feeling of purpose to one swimming in their own entropic mess. many people try to make their lives a ceaseless string of these kinds of mini-projects so that they can consume meaning in small portions steadily. i don’t believe in this practice, however, as it intentionally leaves no time for stepping back and gazing. while i like the entropic mess i do wish to find some greater purpose or truth. but i don’t think it can be found in a life full of focus. i think my time is better spent blurring my vision and trying to see the invisible. this has led to a number of half-finished projects and a mediocre life on paper, but i haven’t given up.

snow day, snow day

last night was the first significant snow of the fall. while the snow was falling i was putting candy canes on branches of my holiday tree when i thought that perhaps i’d drink some holiday cheer in the form of a vodka shot with a candy cane chaser. since the only light in the house was my holiday tree i had a great view out from the sliding glass doors in the kitchen. to my surprise i saw that the back yard was not covered in the black of night but illuminated in a white glow as if it were dusk (it was ten p.m.). intrigued, i finished my holiday cheer and then put on a hat and mittens to see what was going on. not only was my back yard lit up, but the whole sky was bright. i can only assume that either angels were shining flashlights down from heaven or the moonlight was getting reflected by the cloud cover. i made some snowballs in the driveway and threw them at my house thinking, “this is what alaska must be like in the summer.”

getting back to my roots

friday night was the most fun i've had in a long time. a friend of mine was playing a show at the brillobox. she plays drums for my other friend, an indie-pop music group that makes liberal use of the violin. i must say that i enjoyed all three bands, though, and two of them were from pittsburgh. donora was up first, employing a minimal three-piece lineup. fronted by a girl with a great voice, they set the tone for the night (and i was not upset with the tone at all). ben hardt played second with a string section in addition to drum and bass. the songs had a lot of gravity as well as pretty arrangements. even with the strings, though, they are more rock-with-strings than chamber pop. which makes them a little less appealing to me. i had a very nice conversation with tara from mof during his set. it was also during this time that i started drinking straub beer and night began to fuzz over. i do remember it taking a while for my other friend to start their set, but when it began it was pretty. somehow i managed to get one girl's number and also apparently i agreed to tutor a different girl regarding music. such is my life.

back from black friday

after an extended absence i have returned. the widely speculated rumors of my rehab stint are overblown and less than thirty per cent true. i did hit the amaretto liqueur hard over the u.s. thanksgiving extended holiday but only for the purposes of getting drunk. my house was basically a revolving door of people with one objective: grabbing a piece of t.price. hopefully i satisfied everyone by being as aloof as possible and using the phrase “may or may not” hundreds of times. i am also hard at work on a project that could be even grander than phlox loves arthur and does not directly involve consuming liquor. my christmas gift this year is a ticket for a cruise, and perhaps this is the year i will finally see a palm tree decorated with lights, which has been one of my lifelong goals. if that happens, all i’ll have left is to end world hunger and see stevie nicks naked.

michelle and tina

i’ve been wondering if it means anything that i like the version of santana’s “the game of love” with michelle branch’s vocals better than the one with tina turner’s vocals. don’t get me wrong, i’d do whatever either of the two women told me to do if i ever met them. including, but not limited to eating a jelly doughnut (i’ve been jelly-free since nineteen ninety-four). but in this case the high range of branch’s voice outweighs the gritty funk of turner’s. now you may be wondering, “but doesn’t liking that piece of music intrinsically mean something? like that you suck?”. and to that i would reply, “everyone needs some pop in their lives. it may as well come from a living legend selling out his credibility.” and it’s also more exciting because it’s so wrong.

the inevitable, the universal

by now many of you may think you have a pretty good idea who the enigma t.price is. you may think that i could be your best friend. perhaps you think i am an excellent conversationalist. maybe you detest my mixture of northern sense and southern sensibility. in any case, if you don’t envision this in my future then you are quite a ways off. it has become clear to me that my future is a funnel, swirling inevitably toward hairspray addiction:

When White confronted him, he noted the man appeared to be under the influence of alcohol. The man admitted drinking two bottles of spray. He also told White that he is “a hard-core alcoholic,” who drinks the spray for the alcohol in it.

The man had $15 in his pocket at the time. White asked him why he didn’t just go to a liquor store and buy a bottle of liquor.
“The temptation was too great" in the store, the man replied. He also admitted to being in Wal-Mart on previous occasions and drinking hair spray.

drunk elephants and paris

this is the first sentence of an associated press article:

Paris Hilton is being praised by conservationists for highlighting the problem of binge-drinking elephants in northeastern India.

i think i may speak from the heart here, as this is an honest, shirtsleeve-wearing, god-fearing blog. drunk elephants are absolutely the single most important concern in india at the moment. during my time over there this summer the number of drunk elephants i encountered far outnumbered the rail-thin homeless, starving people i saw. as a matter of fact, one pissed elephant stole all the liquor i had on my person, leaving me none to give to the poor indians. i love paris.

f.y.i.

this information about women is all news to me. this is why i watch tyra. tyra and katie couric only for all my news. i just wish they’d do a “what’s down there?” day for men. i haven’t really ever looked down there while naked. i use the bathroom looking straight ahead and whenever i’m hooking up with someone i just take off my clothes and say, “showtime synergy!”. then some stuff happens.

ten gallon whiskey

so where have all the cowboys gone? you may think that the answer to that question involves the themes of chivalry, chaps, and cultural norms. but you’d be wrong. the one-word answer is “pennsylvania”. i’d be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy drinking whiskey on the porch and walking slowly. but i never really understood the need to wear dirty clothes and use dim speech. and don’t get me started on the horrible, simplistic music. so i am proposing a new “modern” kind of cowboy that embraces the slow lifestyle but doesn’t need the hat or truck. he can drink all day and play the guitar, but his songs won’t make you want to spur him in the groin. perhaps there is little difference between my modern cowboy and an alcoholic. although the former could use the noun “pard” un-ironically.

weekend in nc, yeah you know me

the making of a good road trip is a very subtle art. you don’t want to take too many people along with you or else logistics become a nightmare. however, too few participants in each others’ presence for too long can lead to feelings of hate and murderous rage. my trip this past weekend to north carolina was an example of a well executed road trip. even though it included a thick fourteen hours of driving in three days, no one was killed, arrested, broken, or maimed.

the drive south was dreary but our spirits were high. it was myself, three other men in their twenties, and a female preacher. i’m pretty sure there is a joke that starts out that way and i think it ends with “…that wasn’t my bellini!”. i made a mix tape for the journey with lots of current stuff on it (if you want a copy you can get one by contacting me). the scenery was about as good as it gets, with multi-colored trees and exotic nude dancing house billboards around every corner. the times when we couldn’t see a car length in any direction because of the rain were magical, like we were floating in a cloud unseen by anyone.

eventually we arrived at our destination, the homestead of i am not victor ward. it was a modern home with high ceilings and loads of stairs. spacious and clean-lined, it was a great place to host a party. friday night we went out to a bar with some horrible cover band. there were quite a few people dressed in costumes. somehow the people i was with found people they knew. i don’t know how that always happens. for whatever reason my old girlfriend’s cousin was there. so when the cover band quit it became a pretty fun night. i talked to a bunch of people who never asked my name. when we got back to the house we turned up the music so loud that they said it was shaking two floors above us and we hung out on the front stoop, just like i used to do when i lived in the south. there’s really nothing like it.

saturday was a long day. after being awoken by distant voices after a few hours of sleep i lay in a stupor for a while and came to the realization that i had twelve hours to kill before the party. i basically spent the day watching “america’s most smartest model” reruns and college football and by the end had had just about enough of men in tight pants (although is can you ever have too much?). as a break during the middle of the day my friends and i took a tour of the city. we ate some north carolina barbeque at a biker bar. later on the box social began and i made the playlist for the first floor of the house. people trickled in during the early going, glanced at me huddled over the laptop, corona light in hand, and passed by. the party started so early that by ten o’clock i was already fuzzy. i kept asking people who they were supposed to be even if they weren’t in costume. i met some nice young ladies and fellows. a couple friends of mine from high school showed up and we talked for a while. later in the night we sang songs of our youth in drunken disharmony. after about eleven hours of party, i finally passed out.

the drive back was hard to bear because of the total of 6 hours of sleep in two days. but i’d do it again, if only to see the looks on everyone’s faces when i claimed, without hint of sarcasm, that “yes, r.kelly is on the playlist. and please don’t touch the laptop.” congratulations to i am not victor whose party was definitely victor-esque.

impatience

i am a patient person. not only is that a becoming quality but it allows for a less stressful life, which is important since anti-aging cream has its limits. the problem with patience is that it can slowly bleed out ambition until it is pale and weak. do i need less patience? is it poor form for me to complain about the state of things? do i even care to be remembered? i am not sure. but i think i will try something new.

some impatient music: "hummer" by foals (via product shop nyc)

la lanne

i bought some v8 fusion this week because it was half price. i can’t stand v8 regular, but i like the word “fusion”. i also like “synergy”. the fusion was pretty good for something containing vegetable juice, but it made me think of something one of my heroes jack la lanne once said: “if it tastes good, spit it out." that is one of the rules i live by, along with “never start a land war in asia.” so i may not end up finishing all six gallons of the fusion. if, by some chance, jack la lanne is not one of your heroes then check out these facts from wikipedia:

He designed the first leg extension machines, pulley machines using cables, and weight selectors which are now standard in the fitness industry. He was the original inventor of the Smith machine

LaLanne admits that as a child he was addicted to sugar and junk foods. He was very troubled and prone to rages, which led to his attempting to burn down his family's house, as well as chasing his brother with an axe.

1954 (age 40): Jack swam the entire length of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco

1956 (age 42): Jack set a world record of 1,033 push ups in 23 minutes on You Asked for It, a television program with Art Baker

negatory

it is a seventy-seven degree (f) day in mid october. my jack-o-lantern is wilting quickly and i don’t even mind. he will look scarier with concavity by hallow’s eve. life is dreamy at this point in autumn. i am traversing south in a week and a half for a housewarming party. i have a number of projects in the works, not the least of which is self-actualization. i hope to be there by early two thousand eight.

soundtrack for this post how deep is your love by the bird and the bee

halloween heat

…however, the main issue is temperature. it has dropped twelve degrees (c) in midday temperature from monday to thursday. this is an unacceptable way to end my indian summer. i can now use that term in a politically conscious way since i have been to india in the summer. of course, that was nothing like this. we have real Indian summers in the states. during autumn, of course. i had decided to give the halloween kids sparklers like those used on independence day since the weather was july-like. now, however, i will have to resort to something with high-fructose corn syrup in it. i don’t like fattening americas sons and daughters. i think i was being far more responsible with the fireworks idea.

fragments of the weekend

saturday night. discussing the role of genetics in calf size. someone spins ghostland observatory. well, i don’t come from the city, i came here on the train. is the south really the south? can a city further north be more southern? go to sleep in a chair, wake up in a different chair. sunday morning, early because of the tailgate. drinking mimosas in the sun. the game is an anti-climax. getting ready to start at square one again.

matt pond speaks what is on everyone's mind

no, matt pond does not ask why more people aren’t doing “hip hop abs” (from the info-mercial – that shit works, dude). he has apparently been fielding a lot of complaints from fans about the direction of his great mppa project. specifically, they seem to be the same points i was making a couple months ago when i first heard some tracks off the new album, last light. these points go something like, “why did you ditch the ‘chamber’ part of chamber pop?” and, “strings are the things, man. where’s the cello?”. i really like the guy, and i totally agree with his statement. he can do whatever he wants, and thoughts get stale sometimes. however, i maintain that regardless of the instrumentation, the product is just not having the same effect on me. the new album is good, but not emblems good or green fury good in my opinion. here is how matt addresses this (from his band's blog):

Years ago, I thought it could be worthwhile to stick strings into
writing music. Not relegated to fluttery washed out pads -- by making
them an integral part. The intent was for them to be as important as
anything else.

And there were people like Jim Hostetter and Eve Miller... They
pushed. We fought. In the right ways. And we somehow came up with
albums we all agreed upon.

But people drift. And so do ideas. (Man, is it beautiful -- miniature
deaths inside life. Where nobody dies...I still speak to Jim. I still
speak to Eve)

Speaking is all we need anymore. Because. What we did then is not what
we're doing now.

Now I'm playing with a group of people I'd trust until the edges -- to
where we can see our dust raise and roll down the sides. Losing
control on the gravel until slipping and flying through the darkness.
The trust to apply a tourniquet around my head. (DO IT!) To stop the
flow of misinformed mumbled criticisms (A bloody brook will always
babble badly). About who we are and what we're supposed to be doing.

minus the bear: round six

minus the bear was in town saturday night with subtle (i’d never heard of them either). they don’t fit into any descriptive category so i’ll just say they mix hip-hop with cello, drum machines, recorders, saxophones, percussion, guitar, bass, harmonica, and plastic forks. the first thing i noticed about them was the worst thing about their sound: the spoken-word (rap) vocals. well, that and their lead rapper/singer adam drucker appeared to be less than sane (in a good way). but everything else got better from there, and in a few instrumental/singing parts i really thought the music was great. i'm still unsure but i left with a good feeling about them.

m.t.b. was outstanding as usual, the only noticeable difference being jake’s longer hair. however, my relative ambivalence toward their new album broke up the pure joy of the occasion. they did play some old classics as well as about half of the new album, though, and i had a great friend with me who enjoyed the moment as much as i did. plus i met two new friends, so it was one of the better shows in recent memory. pirates say yarrr!

tigercity

although their name is like the result of a madlib gone horribly wrong, new york band tigercity has quickly monopolized my head-speakers. they were in the city last night and i sample tracks from pretty much everyone who comes through (for completeness and o.c.d.’s sake). they are a glorious cross between lite-f.m. and synth-pop genius. imagine if darryl hall had sex with a cloud and their cloud-child got caught in a breeze and flew though the sunlight over a backyard where the bee-gees were having a barbeque with the french band phoenix. and everyone was drinking bartles & jaymes. that is what these guys sound like. man, i love descriptive writing. it kicks expository writing’s ass.

summer in cincinnati

i spent the weekend in cincinnati listening to people chant “o-h” and others answer “i-o” it was probably the best weekend of the year to be in that city seeing as it was sunny and hot and oktoberfest was in full swing. there is apparently a large german contingent in the greater cincinnati area and its oktoberfest celebration is well known. six blocks are closed right in the middle of the city and booths, stages, and lederhosen are scattered about amid the sea of people. we noticed some people drinking from half gallon jugs while we were watching the accordion band and decided that those were necessary. so we bought glass jugs of beer and drank them in the middle of the street. the dubious legality of that was somewhat offset by the crowds of people and our power to “look normal” while drinking from jugs like hillbillies.

boozetown, usa

i was returning some videotapes yesterday and since the liquor store is right next to the video store, i stopped in to do some browsing. i started in a clear aisle but i wasn’t in the mood for a party-ish liquor. i was looking for something with substance and the flavored vodkas were only mocking me. as is so often the case i wound up in the whisky aisle. i may need to explain to some that when i see whisky i feel compelled to buy it. i can’t remember the last time i’ve walked past a scotch shelf and have not involuntarily reached out my hand. i suppose it is like how some people need to purchase copies of monets or feel compelled to acquire every pez dispenser ever made. anyway, i bought some blanton’s, which is now sitting at home, having made friends with my other bottles. i don’t drink fast enough to keep up with my purchases so my collection is growing. every once in a while, however, the population of boozetown is dealt a mighty blow.

feist live

feist and rogue wave played the carnegie music hall in oakland last night. i had never been before so i was pleasantly surprised by the set up. the hall is classy and well decorated, like a milder version of heinz hall. they had a significant cash bar (including scotch) set up in the lobby area. the performance area was great. it was small enough to be intimate, but roomy enough to accommodate a mid size crowd (two balconies). there was really not a bad seat in the place. rogue wave opened with a forty-five minute set including new stuff from asleep at heaven’s gate. zach’s voice rang out in its unique, mellow way during their warm glow of an act, and the setting of a music hall suited them well. leslie feist got a huge ovation when she emerged onstage for the main act and it was obvious that she could have done two hours of spoken word and everyone in the crowd (but me) would’ve been rapt. but luckily she played her own unique brand of indefinable pop/unpop music, with the help of voice loops and about twelve different instruments. it was very emotional and i was glad to let myself get sucked in. she played most of the tracks from the reminder, some from let it die, and some covers as well. she ended with an especially bluesy version of “let it die”, which was awesome. i’m pretty sure she was with broken social scene when they came to town last, so i think this is the second time i’ve seen her in person. i consider myself lucky.

rogue wave – “like i needed” (thanks to frozenblog)

feist

in honor of leslie feist coming to town tomorrow here is a clip of her performing “1 2 3 4” on letterman august twenty-seventh:



if you have a good eye, you may notice members of mates of state, the new pornographers, grizzly bear, the national, and broken social scene in the background all clad in white and sparkles. this is basically what i dream about on odd numbered days, except feist has less clothing on and i’m playing the trumpet. i’m not sure a chorus with more indie cred has ever been assembled, and they played like school children (not talent-wise but wide-eyed-like and fun).

pyt

the mtv video music awards on sunday night were the most enjoyable in ten years. they experimented with a hostless format and long cuts to a few of the many simultaneous live performances scattered about. aside from their poor choice in music (looking at you, fall out boy, linkin park) the awards show was great. right off the top we got to see a fat middle-aged woman who looked like britney spears move a total of four feet while pretending to sing a generic pop song. justin timberlake’s party looked like the best, although kanye west’s party’s girls looked the hottest/drunkest. normally i don’t like west’s music, but his new single “the good life”(thanks t-sides) samples “p.y.t.”, which i love. in fact, i was just listening to thriller last week and replayed that song over and over. coincidences like that are what cause me to believe in the myth of hip hop.

long week

so much has happened in the last week and also so little has changed. i fought a war with insects in my circuit breaker room. the verdict is still out. i caught some cloud-free sun and watched part of every televised tennis match of the u.s. open. i strained my neck muscle and couldn’t look back. or down. i turned twenty-seven, the pinnacle age of any young man’s life. i feel old and have less hope for the future. it is all downhill. i can now look backwards, and all i see is smiles. perhaps this track from the hood internet will better convey my emotional state right now: stereolab’s “miss modular” vs.edan’s “fumbling over words that rhyme”. i think if i had to be reincarnated, i’d choose to come back as stereolab.

dan deacon all weekend

the greatest thing about dan deacon’s music (listen to the crystal cat)is that he chooses lyrics for his human parts phonetically, without regard for literal meaning. bands use cadence and alliteration all the time but it’s such a breath of fresh air to make up your own meaning for strings of syllables. i like the unpretentiousness of assuming the human voice is no better or worse than any other instrument. no, i am not seeing red these days. i’m just kind of fed up with everyone’s self-importance. but deacon gives off none of that and the more i keep hearing from the baltimore scene (jones, etc.) the more i like. here’s an excerpt from a great interview:

Anyway, another thing I was interested in was your transition to pop music from more free form experimental stuff. What is it that interests you about pop?

I grew up listening to the Beatles and Kinks and Led Zeppelin and stuff like that. I think pop is the music of our century and I think it would be foolish to shy away from it. It's just the most fun, and my last couple albums were a much more diverse mix of arrhythmic noise pieces mixed with strange pop pieces, and after I started touring I began enjoying the more rhythmic stuff and I sort of went into it head first and that's what I've been focusing on for a while. I mean, a band like Arab on the Radar is like a pop band but they're extremely musically violent and dissonant, even though the root of their stuff is pop, same thing as Lightning Bolt. I think that is the most innovative music can be, taking something that isn't very accessible and making it accessible, I think that's really important.

It's interesting that you say that because if you compare a Lightning Bolt show to a Shins show, for example, people move and react at a Lightning Bolt show in a way that is both more utilitarian and primal, and it's as if people have a much stronger and more important reaction and connection to stuff like Lightning Bolt, even though it's much more strange and unpredictable than a Shins show, where people don't seem to care as much.

Yeah, I also think there are obviously many different backgrounds in the audience of the independent music scene these days, and mostly it comes out of punk, ska and indie. And I think the hardcore punk and ska crowd got used to going to shows when they were kids in high school and freaking out, and I think that generation is now in this realm of discovering a new type of pop. That's the scene I came up in. I grew up on Long Island and all that was there were shows in Churches and VFW halls and kids would go just to go as crazy as they could, and then those kids went to college and saw kids just standing around at shows and it was boring as fuck. Why would anyone want to go to shows like this? Then you started seeing more weird rock bands that came through and had that dance element incorporated into them, like early Rapture back when they were much more weird and a lot less slick. Then you see a band like the Locust and Lightning Bolt, and for the live atmosphere, audience is such an important part of the show. If the audience sucks, then the show sucks.

east weekend

this past weekend was spent in the east. that is, of course, relative only to where i usually lay my head. for others it would be north. for a select few, perhaps, it would be purgatory. it was thirty six degrees (c) with what i can only describe as tea-kettle-like humidity, but the town wore it well. it was most pleasant long after the sun set and it was warm well into the darkness. i sat outside at places with fountains and string lights and vegetation. i mixed sweet drinks with bitter ones. during the day i bought a lamp made of cow skin and a couple records at a great store. i even found phil collins’ no jacket required for four dollars. it is a shame that i am not victor ward now lives in the land of spittoons and confederate flags because one of his old dwellings was pretty close to where i was. it would have been fun to hang out. if he could’ve gotten permission, of course.

lasting

this feels strange, though not in the way you would imagine. while i have essentially assumed a guest role in an arena previously (and much more prominently) occupied by my very same person, there is another issue with much more at stake. it's nice to be here.

for the first time, and at a point that coincided with the writing of this post, i viewed myself through a very incorrect vantage point. think misinterpretation meets re-evaluation, or better yet...the unfamiliar world of lacking information. i saw a person completely changed by a specific series of events, a level of interest manipulated by more than time, and the fear of consequence that follows. i thought to myself, "change, damn it, change." revert back. cycle through. rise above or duck below. but perception fades with truth, doesn't it? don't we all learn to accept the here, the now, the never will be? the scene has not influenced the protagonist. i'm three steps ahead, and that fits the script as well.

the south is nice, and by nice i mean overly heated. certain aspects of my life can currently be categorized as approximations, but i lack the time to adjust. my decisions may now be labeled as joint, but the outcomes have remained largely unchanged. i bought the very best television on the market a few weeks ago, just because i could. large amounts of humidity have the ability to change lives. i'm thinking of unsubscribing to what it's accomplishing, baby. price wrote a piece that referenced his own marriage. unsuspecting fiction is the new storytelling.

we'll talk soon. >ciao<

newman's wedding

this new york magazine article about a.c. newman and the new pornographers is short and good. so read the whole thing. however, i just wanted to comment on how newman, who is one of my indirect heroes (he is looked up to by matt pond, whom i look up to), has stolen my wedding idea. not that i ever really discussed this idea out loud or with another human, but i’d always wanted to have mates of state play at the fictional event. doesn’t a married indie rock couple seem like the perfect wedding band? not only is their aesthetic vibe right, they have both slow and fast-tempo songs (a must). and they probably don’t play poultry dance songs in which people make arm-wings. that’s a huge concern as well.

minus the bear: planet of ice

planet of ice is more of the same from the boys. that is not to say it is tired or sub-par. i was just kind of hoping for a revival of the sound from the this is what i know about being gigantic and highly refined pirates era. perhaps i’m just nostalgic for college, but i find the new album sonically very similar to their last album rather than the early stuff. they’ve always had dreamy, atmospheric vibes mixed in with their flawless technical precision, but i think the overall tempo of the last two albums has slowed down. i’d like to hear more walkmen-like drumming and quick staccato guitar instead of dreamy-long wailing. of course, though i may sound like a petulant child, i assure you i already like the album and have been spinning it nonstop since i got it. standout tracks after a couple listens are “ice monster”(thanks themilklounge!) and “throwing shapes”. the former’s chorus is just spectacular and the latter’s theme and pacing recalls “pachuca sunrise” and the best yacht-wine-stars rock of pirates.

the new real o.c.

mtv hit black gold with newport beach, the new california-based scripted reality. not only did they find kids who seem to be more at ease in front of the camera than the laguna has-beens, but they also found a better looking overall cast. the narrator is chrissy, a blondish girl with julia roberts-like teeth and overprotective parents. the way she says “daddy” every two seconds on the phone is downright hypnotic. then there are clay, grant, chase, allie, and taylor. all of them look pretty good so i wouldn’t be surprised to see any two of them together. in the first episode we actually get to see rich high school kids not look bored all the time. this show kind of makes me feel like i might have wasted my high school days solving differential equations instead of lifting every day and partying every night.

cassette

my recent reminiscing about junior high school days led me to rediscover some old cassette tapes that had been gathering dust in my attic for a while. most are compilation tapes (some dating back to 1989) containing white rap, electronic dance, and phil collins. the later tapes have some alt-rock and metal from the age of flannel. but i also found a few tapes of comedic observations that were put together in the nineties. after burning them, i reflected back on the joy of recording within the medium of the audio cassette tape. it was much more time-consuming and fun to make a compilation tape back then than it is to drag and drop and burn a mix today. it took skills to get the volume, timing, and dubbing just right. i lamented that the cassette was quickly vanishing into pop history. but then i noticed this article and took heart; it seems the tape will be around for some years to come. due to the library of congress (books on tape for the blind) and religious nuts (sermons on tape) it appears the minute current demand won’t be fading soon. and that’s’ good news for people who want to stay relevant but still listen to black box tracks on magnetic tape.

boh in pgh

band of horses, that mostly mellow, sometimes-piercing band from south carolina made their first appearance in pittsburgh last night. even though the show started late i was happy. besides, it gave me more time to down budweisers on the balcony at diesel. the crowd was not-too-big and not-too-small all at once. it was loud enough to be polite to the bands but sparse enough that i wasn’t forced to smell anyone’s back. love as laughter opened. they were mediocre as a straightforward rock trio. i must confess i didn’t listen to most of the set, as i was too busy having a discussion about old friends and drug use in philadelphia. band of horses lost no time getting into their set. they played a couple new songs from the upcoming album and a couple covers, but mostly songs from everything all the time. ben’s voice live is just like it is on the record. at times it was scary how much the band sounded like my morning jacket. i was delighted when they played “na”, which is my favorite boh song. it sounded like floating down a river. with a straw hat. and it was nice.

kavalier and clay

i finished reading the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay yesterday. it is a well-written historical fiction novel in which michael chabon, the author, deals with themes prevalent in his earlier works. loss, sexual identity, and estrangement were corners in the foundation for wonderboys and the mysteries of pittsburgh as well. i had trouble getting through the last section. it read like a horror story to me. the call of duty, routine above freedom is, in my mind, one of the stages of hell. needless to say the story affected me and i consider that to be the mark of a great novel. the writing style is familiar to any chabon reader but, in my opinion, the run on sentences and liberal use of the comma and hyphen detracted from the book, which, i think -- nay i know – was not as good as mysteries. yes, this novel won the pulitzer prize and mysteries is considered a poor-man’s catcher in the rye. but both the sentences themselves and their content are sharper and fresher in the latter. when i win the pulitzer i shall set this straight during my speech.

age old question

why does diet mug rootbeer taste so much worse than diet a&w root beer? according to the labels they both contain the same ingredients in basically the same ratios. fuck the time machine i'm working on. i need to know the answer to this first.

indian summer

i have returned from my adventure in west asia only ten per cent less disease-free (down from twenty a few days ago). although i returned six days ago i decided to wait to write this post in order to determine whether or not i was changed by the experience. the answer to that inquiry is, like the answer to everything else, ‘conditionally’ (or the colloquial “it depends”). i am not the same person i was in mid july. but i would also be slightly different even if i’d stayed in my u.s. rut. i can call myself worldly, but the truth is that india was just like i’d expected it. my eyes were not opened to poverty or developing nations. i was just forced not to ignore those things for a while. this is a controversial way to live but i’ve found no other way to be productive at the moment.

since i am lazy, i will describe the rest of my trip in words i have already used. the following is adapted from a letter to a friend:

two weekends ago a couple of us travellers went sightseeing. we went to see some temples and ruins and an open air market (dilli haat). i bought some things for a couple people (very cheap in india) by haggling, which is a skill. i got some incense down from like 200 rupees to 150 (3.5 USD). some other highlights:

-the baha'i temple. it looks like a lotus flower. it is kept silent most of the day and there are well manicured lawns around it. no shoes allowed inside the temple.

-ruins of a fort including tombs from the 1300s. i can't remember what this was called, but it was a massive thing built on a hill, with a (since dried up) moat around it. lots of bats reside inside the stone tombs. also, monkeys live around that area.

-iskcon temple, built by hare krishna followers. from the website..."Drifting an evening sitting on the stairs of this halloweed place, and pulsating to the euphonic chants amidst a tranquil ambience is a unique experience" i have to agree.

on sunday we were in the city looking for a place to eat. a guy came up to us claiming to know a "great place". so we followed him. we came to this golf-cart-like contraption that is essentially a taxi (there are thousands around the city). we thought where we were headed was close, but apparently he was going to drive us somewhere. so we got in. a few minutes later we are finally dropped off at this shady looking restaurant. fearing for our lives at this point, we walk in and walk right back out, gradually finding our way back to the place we started. i guess the point of this story is don't take rides from strangers in india. even if they offer tic tacs.

i lost three pounds even though i was sedentary on an airplane for 34 combined hours roundtrip. the food over there is pretty good but hight in carbs and low in protein. it is hard to buy whey protein from street vendors, so my diet suffered. i am now slightly weaker but not really worse for the trip and i am relishing my return to the category of “one indistinguishable from the rest”.

observation

i’ve noticed over the past couple days that indian women are just much more attractive on the whole than indian men. i’ve never been to the far east, but from my experience asian americans also exhibit this trait. as for caucasians, i do not find one sex better looking in the aggregate. perhaps i am just too imbedded in my race to have an objective opinion, but it could also be we have a fairly flat gender-attractiveness curve. i know someone will point out how this is totally subjective and that they love only asian men, but outliers aside i think i have my thumb on the pulse of attractiveness. at least enough to make generalizations like the preceding.

day one

from door to door my trip out to delhi took twenty four hours, including a fourteen hour flight. that is a long time to let your mind wander. mine ran mostly around thoughts of lost luggage and general discomfort at the sight of poverty. customs in india was pretty quick and after i arrived i soon got my first taste of the country on the ride to my hotel. the roads are utter chaos here, with no lanes and no one paying attention to traffic lights. every car is some shade of off-white and half the size in width and length of their american counterparts. the constant honking, high-beaming, and tapping of cows, bicycles, motorbikes, and autos was pretty surreal.

i have come to the conclusion that i have no internal clock. my body had no problem accepting that i should go to sleep at one a.m. local time friday morning even though that was three thirty p.m. new york time. i got up early and went to the hotel gym. making sure not to ingest any tap water, i went about my morning routine. the ride to work was like the ride to the hotel multiplied twice over. rush hour in the daylight is a sight here. there are people everywhere walking, many looking like they have no place to go. the roads are poorly paved, with outcroppings of rocks and other obstacles all over the place. it had a documentary-like quality through the windows of an air-conditioned vehicle.

last night we got a bit adventurous and decided to explore the urban area around the hotel and get something to eat. walking around was almost exactly like i had imagined it, save the one detail that there was no traditional indian music being played in the background. there were throngs of people, crossing traffic whenever they choose, making the streets come alive. there were some poor children who were taught to seek out foreigners and walk next to us looking sad, hoping for food. there were neon signs and store-fronts that gave little indication of what was inside. the sidewalk was shoddy and very unclean, forcing careful inspection of one’s path. it was both energizing and very saddening. we found a bar/restaurant that i can only describe as a “den”, and decided to eat there. it was smoky and poorly lit, pretty much the opposite of what the travel guide recommends. we got some lebanese food which was difficult to see in the dimness but tasted good. two people got sangria (a bold choice in my opinion) but i just had some beer. all i can hope is that the alcohol sanitized my stomach.

time is an illusion (2 days until travel)

i prepared for my trip overseas this weekend by filling my deodorant container and chapstick tube with hand sanitizer. i then filled my hand sanitizer bottle with hydrochloric acid. you know, just in case. i bought a pair of elephant-riding breeches (just plaid golf pants) and a couple books on tantrism. my course is set. it is only necessary for me to discover and travel it. i think one thing is certain: when i return from india i will speak in an even more convoluted and vague manner than i do today. i apologize in advance.

heart & soul, hot & cold

sometimes i am cold. more often than not, actually. but not last night. last night i found the upper temperature threshold that allows me to function. i finally had to turn on the central air when my home’s ambient temperature reached ninety degrees(f). i could still balance board and walk, but any sitting in the hundred per cent humidity and i would lose any concentration, focusing upon how skin sticks to leather instead of reruns of laguna beach. it is even worse for sleeping. i can’t sleep through the night at temperatures higher than eighty four degrees. i haven’t been sleeping well and i’ve lost three pounds due to water, but i figure that will ultimately only make me stronger. or kill me. or send me into a thin layer of existence by which i will achieve oneness with nature. hopefully it’s the third one.

nine days

i didn’t work last week so you might think that i’d have been more inspired to write about all the recent goings on. but you would be underestimating the hypnotic, lazing effects of lounging in the sun. last weekend i was up north attending the wedding of p.l.a.’s second favorite writer (the first being d.e. the guest-blogger). it was a pleasant affair, first at a college chapel and then moving to a country club setting. since ianvw was obviously occupied for most of the night and would therefore give a rather skewed account of events, i will attempt to describe the wedding night.

4:15 pm arrive at the hotel and check in.

5:00 pm drink beer while changing

5:50 pm arrive at chapel

6:30 pm leave chapel, blow bubbles at groom

7:00 pm arrive at country club for reception, notice they have hoegaarden

7:50 pm beer three halfway gone. i am enjoying the outdoor patio.

8:00 pm bride and groom enter the room as married. i think about why everyone is growing up but me.

8:15 pm buffet dinner starts. the line is fifty meters long. i enjoy conversation and beer at the table.

9:00 pm people start dancing. i don’t remember what kind of band was there. i get lost in a forty minute conversation with a bridesmaid.

10:00 pm blur.

~11:30? pm everyone young heads to the elephant and castle bar/restaurant. i am angry since this effectively kills the post-party at the hotel. i order whiskey.

1:00 am dancing around a pole with streamers in sepia scale.

the rest of last week was spent recovering and alternating watching wimbledon and reading outside. i solved sixteen su-do-ku puzzles and countless rubick cube cycles while listening to three new albums i bought. i saw old friends in town for the holiday and golfed eighteen holes on friday. i spent saturday with a friend drinking and watching movies.

in the near future i have a trip to india and a trip to meet someone i’ve never met. both could have exaggerated consequences, such as they could be greatest or worst trips ever. depending upon the temperature in india and the food and my conversion to hindu, i could see it going either way. and as for the other trip, it will all depend upon how my friend reacts when she finds out i’m neither a prince nor a millionaire but only a bachelor.

the stale past

around mid-morning today i became suddenly nostalgic for college. it took me the better part of a minute to figure out why. i finally realized that i was smelling the muted beer-y puke fragrance that was so much a part of everyday life earlier this decade. though the source was unclear the effect was immediate. and i can’t help but feel sad that, although i could recreate the smell, i could never recreate the absolute freedom and happiness of that era. a spontaneous game of beirut this weekend is the only thing that will ease this pain.

views on views on vacation

do you have to be a driven workaholic for people to silently bless your vacation? i will never understand those who value drive and ambition in others over the qualities of happiness and fun. people are obsessed with the theory of “earning” things. i appreciate the need for people to work for something if that process instills values and a grounded attitude. but if an appreciation already exists i see no benefit to it. i think people can deal with balance in their own personal lives, such as the fact that frequent vacations make them less special and therefore possibly less fun. this is not something that should have outsiders' noses turned up or down.

our love to admire

interpol’s our love to admire is immediately gratifying. before you get all purist on me you should note that turn on the bright lights was my favorite interpol album. i revel in the rawness of tracks lick “stella was a diver” and my favorite interpol track of all time, “obstacle 1”. but the new album has a much fuller sound, with keys, strings, and multiple textural layers. and i like it. from the dream-like “wrecking ball” to the more traditional chilly breeze of “rest my chemistry”, this album expands upon previous signatures while keeping the same middle name.

i know i should love daniel best. but guitar is actually my least favorite element of the band (not that i don’t like it). but pauls vocals stick to the ceiling and turn your face heavenward while the bass’ octave-jumps make your eyes flutter. and the percussion on “who do you think?” (via slave to the details) makes me want to make out while tapping my boot against the wall.

division theory

the difference between some and none is the greatest gap there is. it is more blatant than happiness and sadness, more of a contrast than together and alone. this huge chasm of nothing can taunt those on either end. some float across with ease while others wring their hands in futility. and no other border has such a membrane dividing it as this. it is like the surface tension of water where you can feel the forces groan just before you break through. oh how many lie in misery on one side or another waiting for the world’s biggest bridge to be built.

today's playlist

white stripes fields the takeover uk camera obscura menomena modena vox justice mstrkrft rinse repeat

if you say all the names fast enough you can actually ride the sonic wave.

commit to memory

the frightening thing about committing to something is not the fact that you can’t go back. it’s that if you do go back it will be different. so it is really about change. change is good as a universal equalizer but i still fear it with what is left of my consciousness. it is like the genie that could end up giving you happiness but statistically won’t. because you wished for x-ray vision and then gave yourself cancer by looking in the mirror or something. this is why i try to speak using the vaguest possible language, and thusly avoid frivolous commitment and butterfly wings of death.

lost

my wedding occurs in less than two weeks. i am happily in between jobs, which is another way of saying that i have parlayed a signing bonus and severance package into considerable compensation this month for no professional effort. if you're concerned that i may be losing sight of reality, these are reasons.

thoughts about sunday television

i watched some info-mercials today. they reminded me of being in love. it’s really not that strange. i find familiarity in the act of overacting.

always something there to remind her

this is slightly disturbing:

Girls who enjoy a good early relationship with their father are more likely to choose boyfriends and husbands who look like them, new research suggests.

the only conclusion one can come to is that women want to sleep with their fathers. ok, maybe they want their dads as younger men, kind of like a reverse back to the future scenario except marty sleeps with lorraine. and instead of playing “johnny b. goode”, he sings “together forever” by rick astley. even for that bizarro world, though, this behavior is sick, sick, sick. i wish i had a delorean.

what tim said about friday

i went out on friday night, for the purposes of seeing electrelane, the blow, and rebecca (not a band but equally fun to see). we caught a drink at finnegan’s wake and then headed to the warhol museum for the show. i’d never been to the theater room on the first floor, so i didn’t know exactly where the bands would be playing. the room was small but intimate, with some seating and a little standing room around the edges. we arrived in the middle of tender forever’s set. i had never heard her before, but she is a lot like the blow, being a mostly-one-person show. she was refreshing and the kind of slightly-crazy that makes you smile. plus, she covered justin timberlake. after getting a few drinks at the cash bar we re-entered the theater for the blow’s great set. she played around eleven songs but it was basically a continuous monologue of which the songs were only one part. she played my two favorite songs, “hey boy” and “what tom said about girls”. like most of her music, the songs are smart and stripped down. the british band electrelane was last, playing more traditional guitar-drum-bass-piano arragements. they were very good, with many tempo changes, long lnstrumental parts, and some fancy guitar work at times. they sound like they were influenced by sonic youth and stereolab equally, and although i don’t understand some of their songs, the ones i like are quite good.

bustle

i’m sick of bustle. summer is when i want to be laziest, but i’m always distracted by things. it’s enough to make me wish it were winter for one hour. then i would go outside and spin around until i was dizzy, fall flat on my back and listen to nothing. as i felt the cold rising up from my back through my organs, i would start to sing a few bars of matt pond pa’s “summer” and close my eyes.

crime without chance of punishment

i am not against crime, but i do believe that people should be required to put forth significant effort while performing it. more than that, a level of increased resources should be required to escape the action repercussion-free. maybe there is a dostoevsky-esque sound to this request, but it only seems right.

unfortunately, using national headlines to identify a suspected criminal as "having a goatee" goes against much of this. i mean, at least tell me what kind of car he drives. make him steal a new one, cut off a leg, maybe learn german. but if happiness can be found in a razor blade that does not involve slicing through blood-carrying vessels...it may be time for a career move.

entertaining

explaining the game of baseball to a european is like having a conversation with a blender running. only random words sink in over the din. but when you see the recognition light up their eyes on a double play or homerun, the resulting daiquiri of understanding is well worth it. it was in this manner i spent last night, explaining baseball to my native-french-speaking vice president as the pirates decided to lose once again. i feel validated that he claims to have enjoyed the experience even though he grew up, of course, watching football matches and pastry contests and other non-hand-eye coordination sports in france. he suggested i spend some time in europe to become a better rounded person and i think that is good advice. i’m just not sure i have the right look for that continent. i’d need to look bored slightly more often and get some new sunglasses, i think.

stop time later

is it wrong for me to sub-divide an hour? a day? i never know when to make the switch, when to identify something as occurring at the unit level. the thing is, i like to single out positive events, when applicable. and because these events may occur over varying periods of time, it seems likely that i would leave the dividing option variable in an effort to manage each individual circumstance. while i may allow an enjoyable week-long vacation to define a season, i would also like the option of pinpointing the second sip of the third mint julep experienced on a june evening as the pinnacle of all the sips i had taken that night. i know, i know, it's all a little crazy. perhaps i will return to the common usage of "hours", "minutes", and other such sub-categories of timekeeping. but i will do so with the knowledge that things won't be quite as happy around here.

wrongness

last night in bed i was listening to the basement jaxx and making bed-angels. a lyric got me thinking about the phrase “two wrongs don’t make a right”. in general i couldn’t find a counterexample. wikipedia gives a nice explanation:

This fallacy is often committed by children. An example:
Parent: Jim, why did you pull your sister's hair? Don't you know that's wrong?
Jim: I know, but she pinched me first.
To this, the parent may respond with the adage, "two wrongs don't make a right". However, note that if the hair-pulling was in self defense or as a deterrent, to prevent more pinching, then some people may argue that it is more justifiable than if it were done purely out of retaliation.

the last sentence about self-defensive hair pulling really rings true. there are a lot of mean people out there. i think we should “kill them dead with kindness”. that’s not wrong, is it?

one of many

i thought i saw someone i knew at the gym today. this kind of thing happens so often now that i am never sure of anything. i glanced up and she was walking toward a corridor. when i looked up again she was gone. i walked to the corridor, but there was no one there. then i tried to remember what she looked like, but my mind had already melded the image with my memory of her from before so that couldn’t be trusted. plus, her face was off-shade due to heavy breathing. in addition, i’d just seen avril’s video for “sk8ter boi” on the monitors so her composite was slowly melding with a.l.’s. having considered all this for a moment, i went back to my routine. after all, that, if nothing else, helps anchor me to reality.

transition

given the closing of may, i had been mostly concerned with the likely truth that my tan would be largely viewed as unacceptable entering the month of june. thankfully, this slight (but noticeable) scare has been averted. all of this appears to be "well timed" (or at the very least "timed well") to those that know of my plans to also begin a prescription teeth whiting program over the next two weeks. not coincidentally, i've begun listening to the postal service on a fairly regular basis, along with a select few other bands that provide an equally soundtrack-acceptable collection of sound. translation: my life requires that i take in what i project. beautiful skin, glimmering teeth, and the sense that i'm following a path built on a synthesizer. it all feels correct.

oh

oh, to be in love on a tuesday. alas, i have no such luck -- i don’t even believe in tuesdays. but i do believe in me. i am watching a spider-like organism move slowly across the patterned carpet, feeling that this is an analog for my journey. i move in seemingly random directions, encountering the same pattern over and over again, with no more knowledge of the black shoe of death than of the end of infinity. it is not tuesday when you are two centimeters in diameter.

mmdywknd

over the years memorial day has become irremediably tangled with margaritas in my mind, just like christmas trees and gin or summer and nudity. the margarita is a drink that tips dangerously on edge. it has the potential to be butchered horribly and in that state it can ruin peoples lives (for a few hours), but a good margarita can help you remember the white-gold beaches of mexico in the spring even if you haven’t ever been there. that is why i recommend either patron or 1800 white and cointreau. i also recommend hanging out with attractive people and doing so on a sunny day while drinking.

borrowing from the nineties

did anyone else immediately think of ce ce penistion whenever they first heard the hillary duff song “with love”? i mean, the chorus is a blatant rip-off of “it should have been you”. i heard the duff song on mtv this morning and was shocked at this melodic plagiarism. this is yet another example of white stealing from black with no repercussions. but i suppose if you are going to imitate someone, ce ce peniston is one of the best choices you can make. not only is her nineteen ninety-two album finally a pop gem, it also has one of the best opening song duos in album history. “we got a love thing” is so i-don’t-care happy that it levitates, and “finally”, a striking piece about attaining your ideal partner, is even more emotional if less bubbly.

may fair

i've been listening to a lot of jazz lately. and by a lot, i mean more than usual. preliminary explanations point to the generally positive emotion conveyed by the melodies, but i find it hard to jump to conclusions. a lingering fact...combined with the current weather conditions in the northeast, my choices seem validated regardless of underlying reasoning. cheers.

bumper karts

i prefer to be surprised when i wake up. ideally, i would manage to forget something of considerable importance the night before, only to remember immediately upon opening my eyes. the advantage to this? it helps me to differentiate: to remember the days for some significant detail that inspired all the rest of the insignificant details. in short, a memorable awakening has the unique ability to define what it has no control over; my often listless life.

this morning, i was surprised.

because i live in a city, the sound of a car alarm alone isn't enough to cause it. i've grown...accustomed. but the sound of my car alarm...that's enough. fast forward to my second story window, to my stare across the street, to a blend; german sports sedan mixed with small american go-kart look-alike. at least she gave me the front end.

with my car now temporarily located in the fascinatingly trendy parking lot of the repair shop (a relative who's-who of the latest luxury models), i'm beginning to focus on tomorrow morning. while the leading possibilities remain fire and fallen airplane debris, i'm still holding out for a plague featuring a very specific breed of locusts. impossible, maybe, but the 6am rear-ending of a parked car isn't far behind on the reality scale.

i need to go buy insect repellent at neiman...will prada's new scent do? it certainly gave me that impression.

bury my bones in indiana

i spent the past extended weekend in south bend, indiana being assaulted repeatedly by the fightin’ irish. it was like their collective pride increased the air pressure around my being to a stifling level. and i’m still not sure why a school named after a french cathedral has the irish as mascots because no one would tell me. it was a pretty weather weekend, though, and acting pleasant takes your mind off of heavier things. it was fun to pretend i was back in school for a couple days, although it was different from my college days. i’ve never heard so many people make speeches about how faith and knowledge can coexist without the slightest contradiction. this is obviously a lie, but my promise not to ruin graduation prevented me from pointing this out. the commencement speaker was the c.e.o. of general electric, jeff immelt. his speech was very short and very good, incorporating humor and a sense of arrogance. it was mainly about how his company owned trump (g.e. owns nbc) and other television personalities and how g.e. was going green to help the environment. my ambitions are basically the same except for the environment part.

fusion

read here, classic rock devotees - i have listened to, understand, own, and generally appreciate every one of the 15 albums you've cycled through your changer in the last forty years. only, forgive me for doing it in forty days, at the age of 16; with the same level of comprehension. call it what you would like, but my penchant for timelessness has always been aimed much more closely at three-button suits than musical and visual art. with music in particular, the parameters are simply too dynamic and the stage is firmly set in the here-and-now. longevity relating to a specific piece of work is simply a part of that equation, and in many ways, is actually the most dependant element...

however...having now railed against timelessness, i'm writing today that this same diminished importance, in the proper context, can also work in favor of these tracks published long ago. throw out the past altogether, and the possibility still remains for the listener to truly notice and give in to the nostalgic and genuine yearning for emotional distribution put forth by seasoned veterans of the stage. i had the fortune of such an experience on wednesday night, and its details are not soon to leave my thoughts...

morrison is dead, densmore has been bitter for thirty years, and krieger and manzarek now physically resemble individuals approaching a triple digit birthday. what remain of the doors are those same two old men, full song rights to the entire collection, a new name, and a new lead singer; all of which intrigued me to the point of needing to catch their current tour. the venue...one of the most famous theatres in the northeast and a former stop on doors' tours of yesteryear.

riders on the storm, now fronted by brett scallions (fuel, 89-06), filled the keswick theater (philly) to capacity and then some...as expected, the crowd was simply too diverse to explain. with a seating model that favored symphony viewing more than flowing rock, fewer than a hundred people were granted passage to a standing area immediately in front of the stage. everyone else was assigned a red-velvet covered seat in one of the rows that followed. fortunately for us, we were in the back row of our section...we took advantage and stood for the duration. after all, brett asked us to.

scallions took a risk with this gig, and it was only after his performance that i was able to understand why he did it. it wasn't brett-impersonating-jim, it wasn't brett-interpreting-jim...i don't know, it just felt right. like the leather pants and unbuttoned shirt he was wearing, the music allowed me to marvel at how doors-like and brett-like the entire scene really was....his voice flowed into the lows of morrison's range effortlessly, his stage meandering felt anything but choreographed, and there were certainly times where you could close your eyes and blend the album with the present. to be fair, portions of the set, especially in between songs, felt slightly forced. krieger and manzarek sounded as old as they looked when they talked (though not when they played), and there was all-too-obvious ass kissing flying all around the stage between the old heads, brett, the audience, and back to the old heads...sometimes, it felt stiff. nevertheless, some of that came off as pleasantly nostalgic, and given that i'm not nearly old enough to have experienced the live tour the first time around, i deferred judgement to those who had and seemed to enjoy the chance to re-live it. as my friend ben pointed out, manzerek's constant need to play the keys with his shoe was also a little distracting at times, but the night truly boiled down to a familiar sound from a familiar voice.

i'm not sure where this show ranks for me from a quality standpoint, but it certainly moves close to the top in the category of "shows i'm happy not to have missed". more importantly, one act from the show in particular, break on through, was definitive enough in itself to remain in memory indefinitely. great show, great venue, and a renewed faith for me that the classic tours don't always have to disappoint. and that brett can do an entire show sober and in good vocal condition. weird.

it's always been there

as i was growing up, my father often had to spend time out of town. a few days gone were hardly noticeable, but there was something to be said of his trips that covered multiple weeks. from those journeys, he would return with gifts, usually in the form of t-shirts or collectibles. as everyone knows, blue t-shirts that say "atlanta" in scripted neon green lettering are as good as any apology.

the things is, after two weeks, i needed things. my mother never understood why only a $200 nokona glove would do, and with the webbing coming loose in the old one and nobody else to go to, i ran into problems. problems that needed to be solved in hours, not waited on for weeks. the point: if you miss enough, practicality becomes imperative no matter how trivial the stage. after two weeks of waiting, all i needed was a fucking glove. put down the shirt and take me to the store.

my hiatus from this site has concluded, and i come bearing more than a cotton blend. my next post will describe significant music, the type of information that this site has proven most capable of delivering. i would not have returned with anything less.

dear jane

please don’t give me one syllable replies because then your lips don’t move as much. i’ve discovered i like words better as text than as sonic vibrations, but i still love to see you speak. we can make our memories short and marked by a lack of concern. we can sit facing each other twelve inches apart. i can sing like paul banks and you can mouth the words back to me. we can try living sideways, neither progressing nor retreading. we can do all these things. or we can never meet.

clench

the other writer on this blog (there’s another?) is taking an indefinite leave to plan his wedding and subsequent move south, so that is why he hasn’t posted in a while. as for myself, i’ve just been staring at the sun (think smile, not the god-awful u2 -- or for those of you who were too young in 1994 think tv on the radio). i lead a non-stressful life by choice but i recently found out that i clench my teeth while i sleep. i can only imagine this has something to do with repressed memories. either that or my brain is taking my wasted potential out on my teeth. time will tell, i suppose, although i suspect that my great american novel will be published posthumously.

slipping not falling

i have a problem. i am having increasing difficulty filtering which memories of mine are real and which were part of my subconscious imagination or dreams. this is both bad in real life and in my dreams. remembering things that haven’t happened either makes you quirky or crazy in real life, but it is far worse at night. since i can never be one hundred per-cent sure what is going on, i have to tone down my behavior in the sandbox in my mind. as you can probably imagine, this makes for less exciting dreams where instead of snorting drugs off hooker’s backs i balance my checkbook and politely decline company for the evening.

where i've been

i haven’t posted in a while. recently i’ve been overcome by highs and lows, but no creamy middles. my mood has followed the weather in exact proportion such that when it is sunny i don’t want to write because of too many options and when it rains i don’t want to write because of too few. much of the last five days were spent trying in vain to solve all of the hard-category sudoku puzzles on my electronic game. i would sit down, nodding every second like i had a medical condition, rambling such strings of syllables as, “three four six nine r.kelly one one one you moron, roll up on dubs, i’m a flirt…”. when it was nice out i would drive to nowhere and back and then wash my car even though it was washed the day before.

sunday sunday

i spent today alternating between working out, laying on my back in the sun, laying on my front in the sun, and laying on my side watching playoff hockey. i’ve figured out the exact time i need to be in the sun (per side) to keep my tan looking healthy. couple that with my long-held knowledge of the perfect amount of diet coke to replace with whisky in the sixteen ounce bottles to get the correct taste and there is no question that my outdoor skills are superior to most others’. knot tying? florae identification? my butler handles such things as those.

suitcases of liquor

this article about a london house party gone wrong is terribly entertaining. at least three separate parts of the article are quote-worthy. basically, this seventeen year old girl advertised on myspace.com that her parents would be on holiday. she was then shocked that more than forty people showed up at her house, some carrying what neighbors describe as “a suitcase full of alcohol”. that is totally out of line, of course. etiquette requires only one carry-on bag and a small personal item filled with pharmaceuticals per person (at least that’s the way it was back when i was young). the girl’s mother has the best quote, though it may overstep the bounds of the literary device personification:

Whoever has come in here are worse than animals, it's like house rape. They've been sick everywhere, urinated and trashed the house. It will take a month for it to be professionally cleaned and we are having to stay in temporary accommodation.

from her head to her toe

head

i overthink situations. mostly when image is an issue. this is strange because i don’t really care, but i try to give the impression that i care. when deciding between a solemn glare and a quarter smile as my expression, just know that i am trying to decide not what i want to look like but what i want other people to think i look like. i carry a nontrivial burden on my shoulders.

shoulders

shoulders are never the same once they’ve been broken. they can be rebuilt, but never as well. scars are permanent but painkillers are fleeting. i try to keep my shoulders back and square. i try to keep them away from walls.

navel

if your shoulders are back then it is uncomfortable to look at your torso. which is unfortunate, since navel gazing is one of my favorite pastimes.

kness

much like my attitude toward humans, my knees remain flexible even at this age. i learned long ago that flexible was better than stiff, and i live my life accordingly. sure, sometimes they complain if they experience prolonged use, but how else should i pray to l. ron hubbard for new sneakers?

toes

i like consistency. perhaps that is why i am irked by the fact that my biggest toe is not my longest toe. on an otherwise perfect base it is the one thing i feel underconfident about.

reunion

i think all reunions are awkward. by nature they bring together things that were apart. and when people are apart they have no common experience, which is the basis of most non-awkward conversation. i do like unions, however. they are not so much awkward as exciting. and they leave a lot of wiggle room for truth stretching (truth is like a rubber band). the thing i like best, though, is when unions feel like reunions and reunions feel like continuous conversations.

kol - because of the times

the lyrics in the album jacket of because of the times are unbelievably wrong. i’m not going to claim i understand everything coming out of caleb’s mouth, but there are some obvious exclusions of syllables and phrases which make me doubt the accuracy of the entire thing.

as unfortunate as that is, i must say i love the album as a whole. yes, it is all over the place where aha shake heartbreak was much more focused, but it also takes so many chances that by sheer probability some of them must succeed. and succeed they do, once or twice in the most magnificent ways, such that the few failures barely register. the only cause for concern is if the kings continue too far down the path of effects and shiny polish to the point where the music loses its balance. depending upon what their next album sounds like, this one will either be considered the last great kings album or the watershed event in their careers.

i’ve been listening to the album in its entirety for several weeks now, so my opinions have passed the initial reaction and reached an equilibrium. the first song, “knocked up” is seven minutes of quiet, intense emotion. it was a bold and perfect move to make it the lead song on the album. “charmer” sounds like late strokes material, and while i didn’t like it at first, it has grown on me. i’m not too keen on “on call”, the first single. it sounds too normal and alt-rock-y. but “mcfearless”, the next track, is a virtual kick to the balls. the percussion is furious, reminiscent of block party’s first album, and caleb makes you feel every emotional line in the chorus. “black thumbnail” is a great southern swing song, similar to, but slightly poppier than what appeared on ash. “my party” is the only throwaway song on the album, in my opinion. it just doesn’t grab me.

the second half of the album is even better than the first. “true love way” blends great backing vocals with a great theme. this album has a lot of great background vocals in a way you wouldn’t expect from kings, especially this song and “knocked up”. “ragoo” is probably my favorite song on the record. i can listen to it over and over without tiring. it is a simple song with a syncopated rhythm that reminds me of summer evenings. i believe “fans” may be the second single, and while every song showcases caleb’s unique vocal abilities, this song features falsetto in almost every bar. it’s pretty in a twenty-cigarette-night-but-i’m-still-trying-to-sing-at-3am way. “the runner” is another great song about running away from home. the next track, “trunk”, is one i am not sure about. i usually skip it but i will reserve judgment until later. “camaro” is the kind of straightforward rock track one would expect from the previous two albums, but with a little more vocal effects. finally, “arizona”, the closer, is just terrific. it is a reflective piece with a pretty, wailing lead guitar that makes my eyes blink repeatedly.

early april

the weather is warm again, but now i have slipped under it. not too far that i can’t see the daffodils in my backyard, but far enough that i find it a nuisance to move. i still go to the gym because i don’t know how not to. i need to kick this bug and experience spring vitality before the summer malaise starts and i end up lying naked in the sun with a bottle of whiskey singing thin lizzy songs to the trees.

and because, be it dentist office or bedroom, everyone enjoys a good drilling in the spring, here is the POS remix of minus the bear’s “drilling”

girlfriend

arvril lavigne’s new single “girlfriend”, the video for which i’ve been watching on repeat for the last day, has brought back to the forefront my issue with hot canadian pop girls. the issue is that i have an irrational crush on them all, but avril is the one i love the most. even when her inane lyrics are fergie-like (without spelling everything out) and contain out-of-place profainity for a song made of equal parts “hey mickey” and pixie stick. at least i think i’ve finally figured out what qualities i value most in girls:

✓ is a musician
✓ is attractive
✓ can chant like a cheerleader when necessary

sidewalk prayer

there is more truth on sidewalks than in any of the homes in front of which they lie. i saw some writing on a sidewalk a few days ago. it went something like “[star] [crescent] t + b forever [heart] [seductive eyes]”. i couldn’t help but feel that t and b might have a better chance together now that the universe was aware of them. plus, in my experience, seductive eyes never hurt any situation.

a door

i worry that the number of passwords kept in my memory is growing too large. this often conjures up the image of too many demands. expert-designed hallways with walls angled at physically impossible angles, following a path borne of statistical genius. it's as though people want parts of me that never quite existed in the first place. you probably want me to single out reasons for this. words like ominous, transcendent, overarching, and hollow, fill your reaction. don't worry. i don't forget so easily. what you're seeing is something i've already given you. and i don't have to understand to know that we had it right the first time.

bloom

although it's spring, my thoughts are much more focused on the presence of lindsay lohan on the cover of gq, and how i should react to this finding. i'm beginning to look at things more broadly, which scares people who have already used phrases like too general, too impersonal, and heartless when describing me. this is usually the time of the year that smaller details sort themselves out, and distance is definitely the new handshake. disconnection is key. i'm thinking of how good the sun feels, and that yeah, it's something that i can probably focus on, moving forward. you can be in a room with a hundred people and not share a thought, and this doesn't scare me in the least. nothing fazes this phase, and i smile at how clever that sounds. yesterday i drove a hundred and twenty in two different cars. while i have no particular guide on this subject, tomorrow should bring one-thirty, but only once. you decide which is more meaningful. i'm willing to bet that it doesn't mean much. lindsay lohan is on the cover of gq and i'm thinking; probably. maybe. didn't this used to matter?

what i'm thinking

when i was a young man i put away childish things. i wanted to be ahead of the curve. but now i am taking those things back out (only the becoming ones, of course). the curve has wrapped around and led back upon itself, and i can now think of nothing better than the freedom of youth. i like respect, but i can live without it. i don’t want to live without genuine carefree amusement.