baby steps

there is nothing quite like using aerobic dumbells for resistance on bicep curls. not only are they smaller than my hand (two pound to start), they are also the most flaming, noticeable pink and purple. it was painful, grant, to be forbidden to lift any upper body for four months. but this is adding course-grain salt. i was standing next to some middle-aged lady this morning (i arrived late—seven a.m.—and the elderly were finishing up to get some lunch) who looked contemptuously at me while doing god-knows-what ab exercise on her rubber ball, as if i was mocking her weakness. videos from aha and the gap band as well as good memories from the weekend made the workout slightly less awkward. i am not sure what to expect monday when the regulars come in but i am fairly certain it won’t be good. i think i shall take my neon dumbells to the back area.

upside down frown

reasons to smile today:

1. high temperature is 64 degrees fahrenheit.
2. south by southwest, where it will hopefully be warmer than 64 degrees, is next week.
3. i may finally get to see jane bellwether this summer. sigh.
4. tommy good-times. nuff said.

conversation kills

overheard in the locker room:

jaime: …yeah, i’d really like to throw a few back with that guy
charles: he’s always got something sweet to…
jaime: did you ever party with him? you did right? last year’s christmas party? remember, i had to drive you home?
charles: ha, yeah, not too well. tommy good-times.
jaime: i heard he’ll be in town soon.
charles: want to work chest today?

i’ve noticed a startling trend that people whose surnames contain the words “good-times” or “kegger” seem to be more fun than normal people. this also happens when “fun” precedes someone’s christian name, i.e. fun bobby (whom i knew in college).

texas blazing trails again

according to the smoking gun a judge in san antonio recently footnoted a quote from billy madison on an opinion in bankruptcy court. you know, the one with “at no point in your rambling, incoherent response was there anything that could even be considered a rational thought”. this is remarkable not only for the keen insight that only adam sandler could give but also that a 58 year old man has actually seen the film. besides wondering why federal judges watch sandler films in their spare time, this also got me thinking about veronica vaughn. that same year she also played sonya blade in the classic film mortal kombat. that kind of info is essential if you want to win trivial pursuit 90s edition.

sacrilicious

another sunday morning gone, another fine block of high quality info-mercials watched. i love watching these programs as a cultural study as well as for the five easy payments of nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents. my heart pauses for a second when they announce that the item is not available in stores, but i can eventually calm myself by remembering that this info-mercial has been running for four years and is not likely to sell out by next week. these gems offer countless glances into the eyes of the robotic-like consumer/info-mercial audience member, a rare breed whose ranks i one day aspire to join. along with writing the great american novel that is my greatest goal in life.

to barter

i could do without the sun
but it would have to be a trade

you know,
it's not really about what i can see

but rather
where i happen to be

my thoughts come
even in the dark

so perhaps a few of those
yeah, that works for me

singing along to ac newman

does anyone else say “virgin” instead of “version” while singing along to the new pornographers song “electric version”? grant that i am slightly demeneted but this seems as natural as katsup on eggs. virgins are hard enough to come by, but powerful, glowing electric ones would be just grand. and quite songworthy. they wouldn’t have to wear roman tunics and sandals but i think they would anyway. they are a mysterious fun-loving bunch. to be an electric virgin in the autumn, i think, would be quite agreeable.

fiery cold

is it possible that the better show can be experienced in your car in millvale after the band’s set has completed? of course not. but last night was the first time i considered this as i drove home. the fiery furnaces didn’t put on a bad show, but it was just less than what I’d expected. matt, who plays synth and organ on recorded tracks, played only guitar. thus the songs were arranged for guitar and the tempo was increased. this made for a more garage-y feel and much less singing along. but i got to hang out with rebecca and make (and hear) subtle comments and observations all night, which is really what live music is all about. that and the music, maybe. but after the set we hung out in my car for a f.f. song from ep and that was just as fun as anything all night.

mr. jones and me

for as long i can remember my fascination of mtv, i have always taken an inexplicable and special interest in the real world. some would argue that the majority of posts on a site such as this serve much the same purpose as this viewership, in that we all find enjoyment in the observation of others. and to that end, seeing the worst that humanity has to offer can sometimes bring us to the pinnacle of such a realm. recent real world seasons, however, have introduced a new sort of worst. it's not only that i find no reason to respect what i am watching, but also that i've lost interest in why i feel that way, why they are the way they are, and why the television has not yet learned to interpret my inner preferences as highest priority, regardless of my fingers' paths on the remote.

maybe future seasons will be filmed in high definition. maybe that's the new real. i don't have large pockets of time that can be aimed at watching the tv, and it's discouraging to note that i have little control over my final choice of programming. i also don't know that i want to "see me starin' back at me". adam duritz did, but his guitar is nicer than mine.

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