tuesday's wishful thinking

sitting here listening
but never really hearing
anything but the sound of my heart
telling me simply

that I couldn’t have it any better
that if I had you
that if you were here
it would explain everything

and I hear that
i know that
i think that I always have
i need you here

reckless youth

the last day in february reminds me of riding with the top down in forty degree farenheit weather. there was a significant amount of snow on the ground, and i was buzzing on 6 coronas at noon on a sunday. we made our way through forest-lined roads as the chill was consistently fought off by my mexican army of alcohol. “where will we land?”, i vaguely remember thinking for a moment before george michael’s “faith” came on the radio, leaving no alternative but to sing along without regard for any other thought. i recall the smell of leather and pine rather than the normal grey of winter, probably the most convincing reason to be happy in february. there was also the girl, of course, now no more than a ghost. there’s just something about hair blowing in the wind that turns car rides into poetry.

hello goodbye

being back in an office that had been all but abandoned for the greater portion of 2006 is not nearly as comforting as i had imagined. i felt, at least in certain moments, that there was a longing for my return to the world of routine, that there were items of consequence in rekindling such a lifestyle. but irony, as it often tends to do, did not fully reveal itself at the time of those thoughts. after all, regarding the union of myself and my office (and this city in general), it has been quite some time. being here at home, things feel altogether foreign. the city herself may make a fine mistress someday, but in the interim, she's a whore of a long-distance partner. good riddance, i say. my cynicism was beginning to breed jealousy.

rare glimpse

in my hoegaarden induced sleep last night i dreamed about what it would be like to be my own brother. it was surprisingly real-feeling considering this character doesn’t exist, and as is the case most of the time i was unaware that it was a dream until i woke up. it’s embarrasing to say but i can’t remember my character’s name now. all i remember is that the soundtrack of the dream was weezer b-sides like “waiting on you” and “ex-girlfriend” and that i really wanted some peanuts. which is so typical of him.

incoherent

i am on zero hours of sleep after this head cold kept me up last night. i alternated between reading and MTV from ten until one o’clock and paced around my bedroom from one to four. with insomnia nothing is real. everything is far away. my mouth is so dry that pills stick to its roof instead of going down my throat. i think i’ve been staring into space for minutes at a time, but there is no way to tell. things are getting blurry. a thought is repeating: keep your eyes on the prize. this could have something to do with austin or, more likely, it just means that i’ve lost touch.

romance is not dead

i recently read as she climbed across the table by jonathan lethem, a science fiction/love story hybrid that is also funny and clever. one of the characters falls in love with a void, an opening into (what? a different space-time?) that selectively takes certain things while allowing others to pass through its opening and come out the other side. so, can “nothing” with taste actually be better than something? the answer is a resounding “yes”. let’s face it, things just suck. not to mention people. voids are the future. i predict disastrous effects on the valentine’s day card market.

amazing

thoughts from last night's nada surf show in tempe...

negative elements that can never seem to find their way out of the concert experience include the doors opening at 8 for a show that was supposed to start at 7 and set change delays without having to make any set changes (see: needless delays v2.0). neither surprises me anymore, but the mere possibility exists for me that one day, for one show, a seamless transition of arrival and band changes will bring to life the full experience of what often has the potential for life-altering musical envelopment. and clubs with quasi-orgasmic interiors for hosting live music should never, ever, ever be placed in a strip-mall bordering a campus road. the jump from outdoor disappointment to indoor elation was nearly enough to injure my fragile heart.

more prevalent memories from the evening involve a band that simply puts on one of the best shows in the country, simply because they can, and the friends that they chose to do it with. the choices for opening acts were perfect appetizers, slowly but surely drawing the crowd from the novelty of mingling in a live music venue bar to being capable, and willing, to let the music affect them. rogue wave was particularly impressive, putting forth a diverse but not meandering display of talent throughout the night's setlist. sometimes too much like death cab or wilco, but never always like too much of anything.

ffwd --> define time well spent. matthew caws has what what everyone else in the room has taken upon themselves to rely on someone else for. the ability to transform every bit of the walls, people, and single malt scotch into his own personal creation. the environment bends to both his voice and the melodic background set forth by a band that continues to be undervalued by those who should simply know better at this point. good music is in, because it can never leave our longings. shows like the one presented last night fill this need in the most fundamental ways, leaving all of those who experienced it as different human beings. music has a way of changing us, and knowing exactly how you want to be changed is best learned though the sounds of those more talented than the rest. for over two hours, nada surf held the stage and all who gathered round it in complete captivity, and it is the latter of those involved who should feel most blessed.

Q & A

i am asked questions about t.price from time to time and even less frequently i answer them. but in the spirit of president's day i will answer all questions in this thread, no matter how obvious or long the answer is. here's one from january:

question from reader: where does your wit come from?

there is a place where the early morning dew is so sweet that the inhabiting fauna all have diabetes. the evening sunset lasts most of the day, and the breeze blows south-easterly, to cool the 80 degree afternoons. an old man is always feeding the ducks, who have grown plump with contentment. folken distill their own whiskey and age it in oak barrels for 50 years. never a worry crosses anyone’s mind, mostly due to the opium in the water. that is a nice place to summer. my wit, however, comes from a mason jar in the basement that used to hold a firefly.

eh

i lay on the beige carpet in the early afternoon. sunlight streams in through the leaded glass windows and lands in an arc across my face and chest. i think about why things progress slowly on sundays. and then about how the cold slows electrons. i put down the dictionary that i was reading. it is surprising how few times you will turn to an “a” or “z” word even when you convince yourself that you are finding pages at random. it might seem unfair to me that i was stuck in the chill while others bask in the heat if i thought the word fair had any meaning left. it never occurs to me to turn the book to the “f”s.

replacing memory with memory

some of my favorite shows of all time have been at the hands of a certain b. scallions and his bandmates, which pains me to direct your attention to the below link...

http://www.alternativeaddiction.com/news.asp?action=detail&article=551

this bit of information only furthers the dismantling of many of my adolescent pastimes. fuel concerts, pirates nlcs games, and a wide collection of other fond memories have been officially (or logically) relegated to just that. college had to end at some point, but there was hope that other more globally relevant items would remain forever. i'm not sure where fuel falls into that spectrum, but i didn't go to college with brett, and it just feels depressing.

impressions of nada

in the sundevil state for the weekend, where a series of events has brought to light a variety of realizations about my own worldviews (dim scale as minimal)...

nada surf plays 4 blocks from my hotel, tomorrow evening. i don't have exact numbers on the average number of shows that any of my favorite bands may play in their lifetime, but i would imagine that it is slightly larger than the number of sedonas and grand canyons in the world. that said, tomorrow night will most likely shove my previous weekend experiences to a distant second. priorities have a way of surfacing in this way, rendering 1000 to 1 ratios as particularly useless.

also on the subject of impressive natural formations, my preference remains closely tied to the ocean. maybe my dislike of extreme heights has something to do with it, but i have to imagine that a pending trip spent traveling the pch at high speeds will be a significantly more rewarding experience than the past few days of driving through the red rock of arizona. even a week spent at a beach on the east falls into a more impressive category.


all is a game

cope vs. skoal

while returning body double at giant eagle i noticed a formidible line had formed at the ticketmaster counter. fearing i’d missed the announcement of an avril concert i rushed over to see what the fuss was about. my anxiety turned into disgust and should’ve-known type recognition when i saw that they were all waiting for a country music show, kenny-ray mcgraw or something. i thought i left the south when i came home from school, but western pennsylvania has an uncalled for country contingent (and not the cowboy hat wearin’ good kind, but the nascar hat wearin’ hybrid). it is very worrisome, and i fear complex, meaningful lyrics may be driven to extinction in this area soon. i blame the close proximity to west virginia.

get all the marmalade

i was shocked and saddened to see yet another alleged hazing incident involving a fraternity and a goat, this time at western kentucky university. things like this reflect poorly upon me, a former brother at north carolina a&m polytechnical goatherding college. although we used goats in certain “rites of passage” for new initiates, it was strictly for academic purposes and i assure you that no non-humans were harmed. i miss college.

where have all the cowboys gone?

current windshield in rapid city, my present location, is -43 degrees

projected temperature in phoenix, my location 6 hours from now, is 73 degrees

it may or may not have been matt pond that mentioned this to me, but three digit temperature swings are best experienced over a 6 month span.

it's a good night for substance abuse on the asu campus, or so i've heard. i'll be more talkative when it's warmer.

mppa

matt pond pa played their brand of melodic pop at club café last night, to the delight of the sold-out crowd. surprising even me, the audience was very well behaved and pleasant and for this i think the crispness of the set was mostly responsible. matthew and co. played songs mostly from several arrows later and emblems (including “kc”, “closest(look out)”, “new hampshire”, and “close”). like the last show in october, however, the best song was “measure 3”, which seemed to unite the crowd into one organism, feeling no contempt toward any limb that may be dancing poorly or rubbing annoyingly against another limb. the only thing i regret is that my lady friend rebecca and her gentleman friend william couldn’t watch the show with me. well, that and asking matthew to marry me after the show.

unrelatedly, i know matt is a fan of queen and you can bet your oliver peoples glasses i am too. so i was pleased to find q-unit, a white album type blending of 50 cent and queen tracks. if you are anything like me, this blends your love of freddie mercury with your hard knock past from the streets.

da ba dee da ba da

like reports of positive news in the world's relationship with north korea, the frequency of contribution to this site on my part is becoming repeatedly miniscule. there is something about continually being out of town (in this case, out of a city of any sort) that breeds a certain distaste for exacting any effort beyond the professional duties that dragged my ass out here in the first place. i regret that i must put more effort into eating, because it always involves going somewhere. asking for things. criticism and critique dutifully follow. more wine usually fixes this. i place less effort into my time in the gym, or more accurately, less time overall. hotels are built on the idea of escape, and the only thing on my mind is the idea of maintenance. confusion ensues.

i see that t. price has moved into the realm of deep discussion, with much of this centered on a selected few memories from the memories of those our age. i'm certain that smurfette would have been mine in such a situation as the one previously described, but that i would have soon grown tired of such a possession. the jealousy of my neighbors is something that i welcome, but not necessarily something that should be hard coded into the unwritten bond between two human beings. perhaps smurfs are different regarding such matters. lacking responsibility can have that effect on a mind. i've given less credible ideas a chance at success.

kool aid and carpet squares

one of my favorite stories is that of the creation and subsequent salvation of smurfette. it contains many lessons applicable in today’s world.

to paraphrase, basically gargamel (in his endless attempts to exact revenge on the smurfs) came up with a brilliant new plan. He would send the up-to-now all male smurf village a female smurf. thus he created smurfette in his laboratory and among the ingredients were a peck of bird brain, the tip of an adder’s tongue, half a pack of lies (white of course), the vanity of a peacock, and the guile of a vixen. (thanks bluebuddies.com) she was created as a brunette with straight, stringy hair, ugly eyelashes, and a plain dress. after being planted in the forest smurfette was discovered crying and invited back to smurf village where she proceeded to cause loads of trouble. after seeing this, papa smurf decided something must be done and transformed the unhappy (and ugly) smurfette into the blonde bombshell she is today. this caused a change of heart among the smurfs and they accepted her as one of their own.

it is a touching story about not simply ignoring ugly outcasts but extending a hand in changing them into something generally accepted by society to be more pleasant to look at and be around. and being blond plays a nontrivial part.

one among thousands

...the gym around lunch. the cardio elliptical machines that i want to use are all taken so i curse the AARP under my breath as i decide to lift legs instead. videos from madonna, hall and oates, and justin timberlake fail to quell my anger. some guy who looks like dr. rey from doctor 90210 is stretching with a stick right in front of the mini-decline where i like to work on abdominals. i pass by and do a faux-karate move to block and dodge, knowing he won’t get the joke. he thinks i’m being friendly, but that is about as close to the truth as simple plan is to releasing a listenable song. i wonder, ‘did i grow up according to plan?’ as i walk into the locker room, not sure of the answer…

dementia?

i have a questionable relationship (obsession) with purity. it is something that needs dealt with constantly because functional living is not possible with bedfellows such as that. i am not talking about the idea of perfection, which is as subjective as beauty (richard bach says the sky is perfect but ever-changing). but rather, the kind of homogeneity that, when broken, causes sharp contrasts. for example, 42 straight days at the gym or seeing the same stylist for 10 years. i feel the need to battle entropy and unsurprisingly i am losing.

why write

when J-D writes for you? from wwti:

In an industry obsessed with outward appearances, explanations are being offered to explain the visible pound fluctuations of megastar Janet Jackson, 39.
Janet’s boyfriend Jermaine Dupri tells the New York Times that the singer’s widely-reported weight gain from 118 pounds to about 160 pounds was deliberate.
“She gained weight for an indie role,” Dupri said, explaining she was supposed to play a mother in the 'Deep South,' but the role eventually fell through

through what? the marginally weakened floorboards under her? zzzinggg. seriously, her six pack was one of the driving influences in my life. it's just sad.

outRAGEous two

this is the main reason i don’t hang out with six year old children. i get enough sexual harassment at the bath houses. this article also has a great lesson for why women shouldn’t act like bears

In 1996, a New York second-grader was suspended for kissing a girl and ripping a button off her skirt -- an idea the boy said he got from his favorite book "Corduroy," about a bear with a missing button.

rush more - or less

back in the same south dakota hotel bar as last week, where the bar doesn't mean anything.

i'm starting to feel the frustration of being "out of town", if you will, and my thoughts have combined themselves into a single feeling of longing, towards friday, towards going back east. the fact that i'll be back to this place once again, come monday, means nothing, and that's just how it is. austin looms in the near future, which provides some level of comfort.

recent purchases include a flat panel lcd, the newest cell on the market, and a necklace from tiffany, none of which has dimmed the previously mentioned obsession with "going home". the last of the purchases, in conjunction with last weekend's visit to the south, proved to be a gift worthy of creating happiness. apparently this is possible. but perhaps, and only perhaps, it can only truly occur on birthdays.

on to details that have very little to do with events that contain the attributes of both personal and current. apple ran its latest anti-pc ads without the permission of intel. 98% of intel's current revenue is driven from the inclusion of its processors in pcs. there are occasional instances of board room conversations that would make good television. google continues to be the most interesting item on the market. canada's election system is completely fucked. their approach to health care is considerably worse than that. if anyone, bano killed rock.

outRAGEous

this really gets under my skin. apparently there has been a lack of officiating competency during a round of america’s pasttime, the spelling bee. according to cnn little sara had spelled discernible correctly, but was “rung up” by the judge. the officials are refusing to let her back in the competition because her parents waited to protest until after the bee was over. a flattering quote by sara’s mother speaks volumes:

Her mother, Cindy, calls herself a "momma bear with her bear claws out" and is ready to go to court

having been in bees when i was younger i know the towering highs and canyon-like lows of the sport. ending a career like this could be very damaging to little sara. but cindy has the right idea; the only thing more effective than a bear is a bear and a lawyer.

hook'em horns

i read an article in business week about the death of the rock industry. this remains in question.

little else to say...

http://2005.sxsw.com/music/showcases/date/2005-03-16.html

fashion week

it is once again time to gear up for the fall fashion season as new york's olympus fashion week is about to conclude. time has a slideshow depicting highlights of the week. my favorite is actually the first photo of jake from the scissor sisters. wonka meets a gay freddie mercury. but boy can he sing. in the spirit of the week, i will answer any fashion questions posted in the comments section. here's a freebie:

q. is a sweater vest too informal to wear with a suit?

a. no, with discreet pinstripes you should wear a subdued blue or charcoal gray vest. a plaid suit would call for a bolder vest. but avoid matching the vest's pattern with your socks or tie. wearing argyle socks with an argyle vest will look too studied.

why

did anyone quick of the eye notice that the saturday t.price post has vanished? i didn't delete it, so one of three others must have: the grand master of the patriot act (for mention of a united states military program), matt groening (for shamelessly quoting a simpsons episode), or blogspot mods for unknown reasons. in any case the censorship tastes bitter, like that first clove you eat in the morning, or a beer and gin smoothie.

weaning

people like this mother have always aroused my ire. she feels that it is a good idea to let her children decide when they want to quit sucking food out of her nipples. quotes like the following from elizah, 7, illustrate why this is perhaps not the best idea:

I don’t want to be weaned. I want to breastfeed forever.

but aside from the blatant psychological issues there is the gross-tastic issue of her doing it in public. now i don’t know this woman but i would guess that she, like my condo-owners’ association, would have a problem with me getting the mail (only a hundred foot trek) in my boxer briefs. even if my tan was impeccable, et cetera. why? because 7 year olds with breasts in their mouths may get ideas.

so emotional, baby

can you sense the excitement building? if it has not become obvious by now, i have a taste for everything whitney houston. many of you know my feelings on “the greatest love of all”, and how i spend a half hour each week watching the “how will i know” video on repeat (i love the dancing sax player). and now, it appears, she is going into the studio to record a new album. anyone who has seen being bobby brown may be concerned about her apparent lack of sanity, possible coke habit, or the condition of the human race in general but clive davis has assured us everything is copacetic. let us hope so, clive. let us hope and pray.

alright, hands on the reins

it appears that operating a horse/bicycle under the influence in south dakota is almost legal again.

South Dakota lawmakers think it's better to have drunks on horses and bikes instead of behind the wheel.

The state Senate Judiciary Committee approved a bill today that will remove horses and bikes from drunken driving laws, meaning intoxicated people who either pedal or spur their way home cannot be arrested for drunken driving.

i say it’s about time. whenever the chance of injuring your own moron self outweighs the chance of injuring someone else the act should be legal, right? at least in south dakota?

perhaps i am not victor ward should have rented a bronco instead of a tahoe. and bought a cowboy hat instead of a three piece valentino pin-striped suit.

back to the present

sitting in a hotel bar, where the number of cowboy hats exceed the number of sport coats by a wide margin. this hotel has been consistently referred to as the "most exclusive" in rapid city, though my experiences have led to doubts in this area. they serve grey goose in a plastic cup, and i drink it just the same. the same as it ever was. fuel has released a best of compilation, which serves to both confuse and bother me. there was a night in cleveland, once, when that wasn't the case. i can also name a long list of other times when i felt differently.

best show i've ever been to. sophomore year, trip to winston salem, nc. a club that i can't remember, and a performance i'll never forget. some of the wake forest guys understood, but most did not. the same as it ever was. i'm wondering why i rented a tahoe for the week, and also continuing to think about that album. disgust tends to breed nostalgia, and i can't help but feel both considering the circumstances. this place, that album, my fantastic memories. it all adds up to something.

faeries

someone asked me a while ago if i ever “did” the green faerie. the answer, of course, was yes. i did her again last night. that and the paint fumes were the only things that made dubyah and the endless mind-numbing applause breaks bearable. this particular faerie was from france. i know, i know, but she was a hardbody and smelled like licorice. and, really, when have you ever seen a faerie that was overweight?