So a guy I know from Ultimate Frisbee, Steve Shane (we guard each other from time to time, he’s a great guy), just sent me a link to his new music video. I remember him telling me about it a few weeks ago in between games, and I thought, “Oh cool. Someone made a music video, good for them.” Oh how very little I knew.
The song itself is fun and playful with a pleasant, ever-so-slightly country twang to it, but the video itself gives me major concept envy. I loved watching it and going back and forth between thinking how clever it is, how well it tells its story and thinking, how long did that take to plan? It’s pretty staggering. On par, I think, with The Mountain Goats’ video “Woke Up New.”
Now I’ve never heard of the video’s director Behn Fannin, but his website boasts an array of interesting projects, most notably, in my opinion, “…the making of…,” which is a mockumentary about a documentary about the making of that selfsame documentary. Exactly. Looks like he also did a video for Panic At the Disco. He should be making lots and lots of money on very interesting projects.
Check out Steve Shane’s website here and his video below:
I’ve seen The Decemberists five times now (six if you count the time me & Beej saw a Colin Meloy solo show in Lawrence): never in the same venue twice. KC, MO (The Uptown Theatre); NYC (Central Park); Lawrence, KS (Meloy Solo @ Liberty Hall); STL (The Pageant); LA #1 (UCLA’s Royce Hall); LA #2 (The Wiltern). Maybe that’s not so strange, but it seems to be, if nothing else, accidentally eclectic (please note I’m aware that many people have seen their favorite bands in numbers that approach or exceed triple digits). Of the venues, St. Louis’ has the best layout. Also of note that I tend to buy multiple tickets & take friends with me to see the shows. I’m perpetually introducing this band to people.
Which and a few Saturdays ago was no exception. Ashley’s new to their music in general the past couple months and Adam came aboard only in 2009 when we threw on “The Hazards of Love” during our drive out west. I warned her “I’ll probably be singing the entire time, I hope that’s okay.” (The word “probably” being an intensity-of-band-love moderating term with no basis in reality and no chance of not being surpassed.)
I’ve been listening to The Decemberists since 2006 and it’s a rare-but-true case where the first song of theirs I ever heard remains my favorite. Sometimes a thing can hit you so hard you kindof absorb it into you and the force of it all is stamped onto your outlook. It just so happens, too, that that’s what “The Engine Driver” is all about to me. It and they’ve been a mainstay on my iPod & in my car ever since. I’m that guy who scours the internet looking for lost tracks and B-sides, obscure performances and band interviews. Who owns four band t-shirts (brown-2; gray-1, maroon-1) and pre-orders their albums from their site so he can get a limited-in-number autographed CD booklet. Who sings along to every word of every song not because he’s sat down to memorize them but because he’s listened to all the songs that many times.
Full disclosure: My musical history is weak-to-totally-abysmally-embarrassingly-bad. I don’t retain song names. It takes me a nice long while to get music in mind and remembered. I can’t tell you the frontman for 90% of the stuff I like, let alone the band’s other members, or who supplied guest vocals or played guitar for two tracks on their last album. I haven’t listened to enough of The Beatles or Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash or The Who or Pink Floyd or Van Morrison or Van Halen (I used to not know the difference) or The Beach Boys or The Doors or Billy Joel or Elton John or Bruce Springstein or The Smiths or The Rolling Stones or anything Phil Spector produced or Motown or blah blah blah these are just the first ones who came to mind. One time an ex-girlfriend and I got in a sizeable and enjoyment-of-day-ending fight in a Pizza Hut when I overreacted to her shock at my not recognizing certain songs. She was right that I didn’t really know anything, I guess I just mishandled the waves of judgment she heaped on me for my sins of omission.
There are multitudes I don’t know and will probably never know, but I do know The Decemberists. They are of course known for their hyper-literate lyrics and exuberantly complex arrangements. That’s why I fell in love with them. I eat $10 words by the handful, and complexity, ambition, and (oh yes) indulgence create an Artistic Bermuda Triangle from which my interests will probably never escape. The Decemberists do it with such a high success rate, too, that I’m perpetually standing back in awe. From “The Mariner’s Revenge” to all three parts of “The Crane Wife” to the cover-to-cover brilliance of “The Hazards of Love,” plus “The Tain” and the deconstructo-playful “I Was Meant For the Stage,” they’re topping themselves every album.
Their new album, “The King is Dead” is so different musically that it’s no different at all. It’s stripped down. It’s simple. The longest track isn’t even six minutes, and most come in at around three. Because there comes a time when the challenge is no longer excess but restraint; when the bigger risk is one of style not size.
“Here we come to a turning of the season,” is the first lyric out of the gate, setting the tone for the album’s lyrical and musical themes. The whole thing has a more American folk feel, and I love how thoroughly a sense of place dominates the album, in that first song, “Don’t Carry It All,” – my favorite track on the album, it perfectly marries the focus on setting with an abundant declaration of the purposes of community – and later in the album on June Hymn.
Opening Act: "Mountain Man"
I love how different “The King Is Dead” is from anything they’ve done before, and yet how comfortably it fits into their canon. There were slight shades of it toward the end of “The Hazards of Love,” the songs alternate between brawlers and bawlers (to borrow a bit from Tom Waits). Songs like “Calamity Song,” “Rox in the Box,” “This is Why We Fight,” and another favorite of mine, “All Arise!” really move and have a propulsion to them; and the “Hymns,” and something like “Rise to Me” remind you how at ease Colin Meloy’s lyrics are, how like a blanket by a fire during a rainstorm the songs feel. Few songs I’ve heard capture the feeling of a season and place – on the earth and in life – like these. They go to different, unique places you don’t normally hear about. And then hey what is “Dear Avery” anyway? Is it about a dog? I think maybe it is but I don’t know.
The concert was wonderful, of course. They dipped into every album and even an EP, and they played seven of the ten tracks from the new one. This may be the first time I didn’t hear “O Valencia,” and it was nice to know they had enough that they didn’t have to.
Here’s the breakdown (by album, not order):
Castaways and Cutouts: “Grace Cathedral Hill”
Her Majesty, The Decemberists: “Los Angeles, I’m Yours,” and “Red Right Ankle”
Picaresque: “We Both Go Down Together,” “16 Military Wives,” “The Engine Driver,” and to close the first encore “The Mariner’s Revenge Song”
The Crane Wife: “The Crane Wife 3”
Always the Bridesmaid EP: “Days of Elaine”
The Hazards of Love: “Won’t Want For Love (Margaret In the Taiga)” and c’mon of course “The Rake’s Song”
The King Is Dead: “Don’t Carry It All,” “Calamity Song,” “Rise to Me,” “Rox In the Box,” “Down By the Water,” “June Hymn,” and “This Is Why We Fight”
You know, I’ve said it before and it should perhaps just become my raison d’etre but there’s nothing better than listening to great music with a pretty girl. There were some sightline issues to figure out, but just being able to hold someone’s hand during songs I love is for me an ultimate luxury and comfort.
Just before they played their eight-minute ode to sailors and revenge, Colin told the crowd to practice screaming like they were being eaten by a whale, and as everyone yelled like banshees, I hear Ashley go, “What in the world?” Like I said, she’s relatively new to the music, but soon she followed suit, joined in, and bellowed like a pro. And then what a great final moment it was when they all came back onstage for a second encore to play just and only “June Hymn.” The disparity between the two songs could not have been greater, and it was perhaps a knowing nod to the fact that both are a part of the band’s appeal: the brazenly complex and the utterly simple.
There’s just too much is the main issue right now. With a finite number of time-units and cultural consumables, how can there be such a great disparity between the two? Forget, even, news-related items. Think how unprecedented, really, is an individual’s particular tastes and experience (which for the purposes of sanity and this singular blog we’ll relegate to artistic experience). My own group of friends’ tastes are too varied to even begin to describe (I know, because I just started writing it all and realized it was too complex for this entry) – from film to TV to music to literature to podcasts to theater to graphic design (now that’s broad) to comic books to photography, and on til morning goes the list. How to follow it all? How to keep up? How to respond even to just that barrage of ABSOLUTE MUSTS in all those mediums? It’s unending. It’s overwhelming. (TV and Literature is just the worst to me. Great mediums, both of which I love, but there is seriously so much volume of great that I don’t have any time for the good or the very good. Except that it’s almost a guarantee that something or other I watch because it’s someone’s favorite won’t be my cup of tea, meanwhile something others may write off as “pretty good” might be a revelation to me (Can you say “Community”?))
The following litany is from Friday. That is, this is what I consumed on during some spare time in the morning, during my drives to-and-from work, and sitting at work for twelve hours (parts of which also involved some more driving). Later in the day, thinking back on it, I felt overwhelmed when I tried to place it all. So often there is a giant list of things to get through that the order and rate they’re in is discarded. Starting to think that might be a mistake. That when ambition overtakes absorption the point may be muted. There are plenty of people, no doubt, for whom this list is small; who have no trouble multi-tasking. My roommate watches movies and shows while he works on art. I can’t do that. My attention has to be devoted, and I need more time to consider.
Lately I have issues recalling specific episodes of podcasts like “This American Life” or “The Tobolowsky Files.” Except my few favorites, my attention may have been too divided to retain enough of each story. That’s a problem, my problem, which is why this is essentially an attempt to retain something from each thing.
TV:
The Office – “Threat Level Midnight” – A very playful episode. Look, The Office isn’t what it used to be, and I’m not quite as gaga over this one as many reviewers seem to be, but it was a really-good-to-near-great episode. I enjoyed all of the small moments with former series regulars.
MUSIC:
Mumford & Sons – “Sigh No More” – What a great album this is! Folksy, banjo-laden music that moves and thumps. Here are songs that are about something; you can feel it deep in your bones.
From “The Cave” -
So make your siren’s call/ And sing all you want/ I will not hear what you have to say
‘Cause I need freedom now/And I need to know how/ To live my life as it’s meant to be
And I will hold on hope/ And I won’t let you choke/ On the noose around your neck
And I’ll find strength in pain/ And I will change my ways/ I’ll know my name as it’s called again
And now hear a song played with two fists clenched:
Phoenix – “It’s Never Been Like That” ; “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” - Yeah, they’re a hipster band to some degree, they just did the soundtrack for Sofia Copolla’s new film “Somewhere,” and I honestly haven’t listened to them enough to be able to articulate their M.O. They’re similar to Vampire Weekend, except even better.
PODCASTS:
This American Life – “What Is Money?” – Few shows tackle complex subject matter this consistently – with staggering insight. This episode looks at the general abstract-ness of money and the two shocking instances – one in Brazil, one here – where the solution to a national crisis sounds more like something out of one of the absurdo-circular subplots in “Catch-22.” It’s like arguing semantics with an inanimate object. But somehow, these ideas work (well, one of them we’ll wait & see).
Radiolab - “Cities” – So okay this would be the other show that aims just as high on a weekly basis. In this episode, hosts Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich explore what makes a city distinct. They start off comparing the rates at which patrons from different cities walk, then they speak with some experts who analyze that data (among other data) and have created a mathematical formula that is eerily accurate in predicting how many, for instance, people there are in that city; how many libraries, schools, theatres, et al. Then the discussion transitions to what the data can’t tell you – the soul or spirit of a city. Oh how many applications about truth and life can we draw from this? Oh how many types of many? The show ends with a moving portrait of a city torn apart and all-but abandoned (except that not in one final heartbreaking, beautiful way). Hearing it made me think of people who grow up in a place and decide to make their home there; have their entire extended family there. To stay, to remain. I’m not one of those people. I moved around to four different cities during my formative years. My parents now live somewhere else. So do I. Except now I’m somewhere and I can’t imagine leaving, although that too is less about the place than the people. You find a community and you want to make your life with them.
PLAY:
One of me, three of you. I like where this is going.
“Spring Awakening” - Ashley loves this musical, from which I’ve heard all of two songs (her idea it’s clear enough without saying, but nonetheless). Can’t recall either one. But a couple years ago, blissfully unaware of the musical (small miracles and all that), I bought the play during one of my online searches for all-things Jonathan Franzen (he did the translation of Patrick Wedekind’s more-than-100-year-old work). I read his introduction – which is not-at-all flattering of the musical – but never made my way past the first scene. I’m told the musical retains maybe 50% of the dialogue (it’s a relatively short read at about 80 pages), and it is unfortunately one-note. The play rails against any notion of parental, educational, and spiritual guidance, save for one mother whose idea is to let her 14-year old figure things out for himself. The writing is beautiful – Franzen’s translation is eloquent and sly and contains a number of passages that feel as much like literature as dialogue. Among other things, the play explores all manor of sexual experience (which might be more harrowing to see than read, except the idea of children committing these acts is undercut by having sexy 20-somethings inhabit the roles (because otherwise it might be oh um uh illegal?)) Still, the themes of repression-in-the-name-of-innocence (although it’s really ignorance), the fear of even the idea of the subjects, and the youthful speculation and confusion about school, life, and sex are all fully realized. My one wonder is how much stock the author placed in the logic of his pubescent subjects. They are true in that they make sense to us at that age. Are we to see them as free-thinkers who are stifled? Or as developing thinkers who are dissuaded from maturing at all. There are arguments to be made for both sides.
Act II, scene i:
MORTIZ: Before the exam, I prayed to God to give me tuberculosis and let me off the hook. And I got off it –although even now I can sense it hanging in the distance, with a glimmering around it that makes me scared to raise my eyes, day and night. — But now that I’m on the ladder I’ll keep climbing. My guarantee is the logical certainty that I can’t fall without breaking my neck.
Act II, scene iii:
HANSY: *Moritura me salutat! — Girl, girl, why do you press your knees together? — Why even now? — – Are you mindful of inscrutable eternity?? — One twitch, and I’ll set you free! – One feminine gesture, one sign of lust, of sympathy, girl! — I’ll frame you in gold and hang you above my bed — Don’t you see that it’s your chasteness alone that gives birth to my debaucheries? — Woe, woe unto those who are inhuman.
*Moritura me salutat = “Those doomed to death salute me.”
I am happy now. I’d heard Colin Meloy had played a show in NYC but I missed my chance to listen to it. Well so here the good kind souls there at the YouTube building decided to update their little online enterprise with some of the songs!
I feel better already.
In particular, there are songs from the new album, “The King is Dead,” which I anticipate like whoa. I got the free download of “Down By the Water,” which come on I love. But I think this song “Rise to Me” is going to be my favorite. I dig this acoustic version, but I’m looking forward to hearing the full band behind it.
Ever get that feeling where you just can’t wait to listen to a whole album? January 18th, you and me have plans.
A friend of mine just posted this on Facebook. I realize it’ll get substantially less play here, but it made me feel so at peace and settled down here at the end of my night, that I wanted to share it too. After a straining day at work, after a hard workout, after doing some praying and doing some writing and doing some thinking. Tom Waits is one of those indescribably important musicians for me, and this been one of my favorite songs of his from the moment I heard it in my bedroom, sophomore year of high school. How I long to walk into church one Sunday and hear it belted out by a choir, be able to join in and let it fly. This video is expertly conceived, too.
“Sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes, well, he eats you.” – The Big Lebowski
The Coen Brothers know what’s up. I’ve been in a cranky mood today. It’s been a long week. I haven’t gotten much sleep. I’ve been an Amish Man over and over and while the reading time has been appreciated, the hours have been long. But I like being on set, so it’s not that. Christmas can be stressful. There’s a lot to do. Presents to buy. Cards to send. Parties and events and this and that, and oops, forgot that other thing.
I’m tired, is the thing. And when you’re tired, you can unknowingly regress to the state of a 9 year old. I’d planned to see a big budget action movie and munch popcorn and get taken away by blue people and their special effects. What happened instead was a hassle to get there and an extra 20 minutes parking and the movie being sold out. We should have planned better. So, we scrambled, were going to see it at a different theater, but after getting on the wrong freeway going the wrong way, I was just angry and pissed off, and anyway the other screening wasn’t going to be in IMAX, so why pay that much extra? I’ll skip the debacle of getting food that followed and just say if you want Thai food in L.A. on a Sunday, don’t call me or I may scream at you.
Now this isn’t in the Holiday spirit, is it? No, no, I know. Did I mention I’m tired? Also, I’ve had a headache for the last 5 hours, undoubtedly a physical reflection of my internal condition.
So what’s to be done? It’s Christmas, I can’t go around being a Scrooge for the next week. That does nobody any good. Well, I pray. And I complain at God for a while and then I complain in my journal for a while and then I complain in a blog for a while. But I apologize, too. And I take a deep breath. And I ask God for help, and I know that He will, and I breathe and try to remember that through my headache. And then I put on Sufjan Stevens’ Songs For Christmas, the 5 disc compilation that’s just great.
Here, have a little hope
I don’t tend to like Christmas music at all. But I really like this. It’s got some original songs and some really good versions of traditional songs. An appropriate one I just listened to again, “It’s Christmas! Let’s Be Glad,” which has some bits of wisdom in it:
Since it’s Christmas, let’s be glad/ Even if your life’s been bad/ There are presents to be had…La la la la la la ah / Since the year is almost out/ Lift your hands and give a shout / There’s a lot to shout about today
The set also includes Sufjan sharing some Christmas thoughts and then, out of nowhere, a little essay/song by one of my favorite writers, Rick Moody? Is this a Christmas miracle? And so I read it while I listen, in the middle of typing this, and I read it looking for something funny to quote from Mr. Moody and instead I end up in tears and feeling so much the relieved and the better and without headache, not just because he’s a great, fine writer, but because he describes my day today and week this week:
What is this thing about Christmas, the paradoxical tendency of Christmas, that the more heartbreaking it is the closer it seems to get to the point? Why is failure and awkwardness so human and so natural at Christmas? Why is it that really unacceptable gifts are somehow perfect, no matter how horrible or insulting or inexplicable? Why is it that having no gift to offer, just completely failing in the gift-giving department, admitting as much, seems closer to the No Room at the Inn concept, as described above? Why is it that anxiety and panic on Christmas seem more human than good-natured fun and loving Christmas? Why is it that Christmas seems like such an appropriate day to hyperventilate, to palpitate, to sweat profusely, to be certain that you are having a nervous breakdown? Why is it that desperation is closer to God?
And now, at least, I can breathe again, and continue on with the season, hopeful and… well, that’s enough isn’t it?
In less than a week, I’m going to see The Decemberists’ concert here in LA. As readers know, this is my favorite band, I’ve seen them in concert 4 times before, I saw them in St. Louis back in May and LOVED the show. This one will be different for 2 reasons. 1) I’ll be sitting. That’s a bummer for me. I like to stand and bob up-and-down and I like to sing along. Not the same when sitting. 2) The band will be playing the album, “The Hazards of Love” in its entirety, as they have been. Except this time, there is a full-length animation that will accompany it. Here is the trailer for it. I am geeking out like no other. OMG, can’t wait!!!
In 1974, just as David Niven was about to introduce Elizabeth Taylor at the Academy Awards, a naked man streaked across the stage. Niven responded humorously (and Britishly). Not since then has there been a more visible prick onstage at an Awards show than Kanye West was at this year’s VMAs.
If you didn’t know, Taylor Swift won an award for best female video, beating Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” video (beloved my many, myself chief among them). During her acceptance speech, she was interrupted by Kanye West who then explained to the crowd that Beyonce made one of the best videos of all time. Roll tape:
Saying no more than that, Kanye is a really big asshole. But consider the details. Kanye wasn’t that particular award’s presenter. He got up out of his chair, walked onstage, took the mic out of the hands of the WINNER of the award, and then said something. It takes an even bigger asshole to do that. It takes an even bigger asshole still to take the mic away from the winner (after walking onstage during a speech for an award you did not present) and then tell the crowd that someone else deserved to win. It takes an even bigger asshole still to do so at the mother-fucking MTV Video Music Awards. On what planet, under the influence what kind of Government-grade, top secret hallucinogen must you be to believe so strongly in the everlasting importance of an MTV-designated award, not for the artistic or popular merit of any music, but of the video which dramatizes that music — and believe even more strongly that the winner of this year’s Best Female Video went to the wrong female (and, incidentally, which correct yet horribly unrecognized winner in this particular, specific category went on to win “Video of the Year” in what must have been an alarming and altogether mystifying turn of events) — that you take it upon yourself, Kanye, you piece of shit — who had no involvement with the (purported) should-be-winner’s video — to ruin the already fleeting, but nonetheless victorious moment of recognition from the actual winner –who, it turns out, did not appoint herself the winner, but was CHOSEN as the winner (by God knows who and not that it matters anyway)? In what state (of mind, of body, of soul) must you be in, to totally disregard all decency and basic human decorum, which a 1st grader can follow, in favor of your own pointless opinion about a ridiculous and
Got any Raps that Rhyme with "Tactless" ?
inconsequential award, that you absolutely must ignore the simple courtesy of letting someone say a (from what I saw) pleasant thank-you for an award they got through no fault of their own? Under no circumstances should this ever happen. But if happen it inevitably must, my humble feeling is that anyone sporting the hairdo (seen at the right) has always and forever waived the right to say word one on the matter.
There is talk of fining him. There is rumor of banning him from music-awards shows. This is well and this is good, but it misses the point. Kanye West, it would seem, needs a chaperone. Perhaps a schoolmarm who will rap his knuckles. Perhaps a parent who will spank his stupid ass when he acts up. This is the behavior of a child. This is the behavior of a pre-teen who thinks that his very existence insists that the world revolve around it and bend low to its every whim. He is a spoiled and stupid person; infantile in brain, inert in awareness of others around him. He cannot come out and play, because he does not know how to share. He cannot out-think the award-designators of MTV’s Video Music Awards (and what a sad fact this is). The way that it works young Kanye, and please take your finger out from your nostril and sit up straight, is that because Beyonce is getting the biggest award of the night, she needn’t win them all. It’s okay to let someone else be a winner, too, since the point may be less about winning and more about celebrating more than just one artist. (Hint: The names of the awards make this point for themselves). Your behavior is unacceptable. It is unthinkable and unconscionable. You have made a fool out of yourself. You are an ass, Kanye. Your behavior is reprehensible even to a Village Idiot. You are the Industry Idiot, and long will you reign. What a total fucking asshole you are. A fucking asshole, man.
(Beyonce, for her part, when accepting her award, made a brief speech and then had Taylor Swift come onstage to share in the moment. And let’s be real, when Beyonce has you out-classed, things are in sorry shape, indeed.)
NOTE: If your eyes venture to the right, you will see that I am now on Twitter. It’s true.
Thing 1 – The website for “Trailer: The Movie” is up and running (go here!!! Whoops, no HERE), and the site is daily being improved by the lovely and talented Allie Yeary. Check out the posters for the movies within the movie and 4 production diaries (more on their way). There’s even a script sample on the site (I take no responsibility for any spelling/grammar errors, b/c Adam wrote the script as well.)
Thing 2 – Speaking of the movie, Adam and I are 1) editing ourselves sick this weekend. It’s the first time we’ve edited on Adobe Premiere, and before anyone asks why we aren’t using another (potentially better) program, you must ask Adam who declares that Adobe is great. Nonetheless, it can be tricky learning a new and intensely complex program while trying to keep a grasp on how you are going to utilize it for your own specific needs. We’ll see in a month or so how it went.
Thing 3 – Last thing about the movie. Our hospital fell through, so if anyone has any hospitals they know of who are willing to let people film there, please let us know. It’s getting down to the wire, and we’re getting nervous. We’ve been looking since (no kidding) March and had our confirmed hospital bail on us recently. Buncha jerks.
Thing 4 – Spring and Summer Music!!! If you haven’t picked up the new Decemberists’ album, “The Hazards of Love,” (written about in a previous blog) do yourself a favor and get it. Also, recently bought new albums by Green Day (21st Century Breakdown) and Eminem (Relapse). Green days’ is exactly the CD you want for a mid-80′s summer day. It’s 70 minutes of great music, not quite as brilliant as “American Idiot,” but pretty damn close, and just as fun (my favorites are the title track; “Horseshoes and Handgrenades” and “21 Guns”) Eminem… what to say? The CD shouldn’t be called “Relapse,” but “New Rock Bottom” because it’s pretty dreadful. he spends 3/4 of the album rapping about how he can rap about anything that when he finally starts rapping about something, you don’t really care. Also, not for the squeamish. On par with the more graphic sections of prose from “American Psycho.” (That said, the song “Deja Vu” is totally brilliant. Download it and save your money.)
Great summer meal
Thing 5 – Fajitas!!! Nothing says summer like having friends over for fajitas, which is what Adam and I did tonight. Fast food gets expensive so instead, we made chicken and fish, peppers, onions, beans, rice, the whole nine yards, and it was fan-damn-tastic! Add some beers and the TV show “Spaced,” and you’ve got yourself one hell of a night.
Also, no matter what Adam tells you, we’re just friends.
Thing 6 – Running. Running about 4 times a week now, usually for 45 minutes or so, added some weights to the front end of the running, and boy am I feeling great! My mind is clearer, I feel healthier, more alive. I know a lot of people shy away from it because it seems like work and sweat and ick, but I am telling you, so for a 10 minute jog, take the iPod, turn up some Green Day or your favorite weekly podcast. When you get back, you will feel revived. You may be worn out, and that’s a good thing, but notice how much clearer your mind is.
That’s what we call “Mad Ups”
Thing 7 – NBA Playoffs. Conference Finals time and I am sick of seeing every advertisement aching for a Lebron vs Kobe Finals matchup. I find it entirely disrespectful to the other teams who’ve worked just as hard to get here and who (both series’ being tied at 1-1) could easily win, creating an equally compelling finals of Orlando and Denver. All four games have been intense and great watching so far. And of course, there’s always baseball. Oh, baseball, why are you so watchable? Don’t you know I have other things to do? Oh well, I’ll get back to them after the bottom of the inning (No I won’t).
NOTE: Orlando leads the Eastern Conference Finals 2-1
Thing 8 – It seems that everyone I know is either getting married, or married and having kids. I understand wanting to settle down, but dammit, who am I supposed to hang out with? If you all wouldn’t mind terribly, STOP. Marriage is acceptable, but “Having Kids” has officially been ejected from the game (I’m looking at you Royce, you smug baby-making machine). If you wish, I will pretend to be your child for a month or so, after which I guarantee you will wait at least 10 years before conceiving. That is all I have to say on the matter. Enough is enough, really. Wait for me to catch up a little for goodness’ sake. That said, I’m looking forward to next weekend, when Nathan Potter ties the knot. Should be a great time.
Thing 9 – Just remembered: American Idol. I totally watched it. Adam Lambert was off the hook, maybe the best singer I’ve ever seen on there. I’m glad he didn’t win (as I noted in my twitter post. Aw dag!) because a) we know he’s going to get a record deal, b) this way he’ll have more creative control (hopefully) and c) now he doesn’t have to sing that POS After School Special song Kara DioGuardi co-wrote for the winner’s album. Come on! That said, will I watch next year? Doubtful (Totally).
Thing 10 – Summer Movies – Wolverine sucked. It’s the worst comic book movie to date, and that includes “Daredevil,” “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen,” and the underrated “Spiderman 3.” (Note: I’ve seen only about 5 minutes of “Catwoman,” and it gives Wolverine a run for its money. Too close to call) “Star Trek,” on the other hand, is amazing. Great story, characters, effects. A great summer movie in every way. And directly in between the two falls “Terminator: Salvation.” Some bad dialogue aside, this movie is better than its most recent predecessor and fits well in the Terminator canon. The Terminators themselves are horrifyingly difficult to kill, and I hate to say it but McG directed this movie really well. Really good action movie. With so many titles coming out, every weekend is overwhelming. I’ll see most of them but the ones I’m REALLY looking forward to are: Pixar’s UP, the new HARRY POTTER…, Judd Apatow’s FUNNY PEOPLE, and Quentin Tarantino’s INGLORIOUS BASTERDS.
Thing 11 – As for books and reading and the like, I am going to be spending much of the summer with The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Lawrence Stern. I’m also making my way through the comicbook series Preacher by Garth Ennis. Graphic, but enjoyable. Happy Summer everyone!
And now let us marvel at the decisions of others. It’s not good to laugh at people. Only sometimes it’s fantastic to laugh at people, because some things are just stupid. Tonight I am happy to bring you a gleaming example. Please consider the following photograph:
This is truth so thick it don't wash off
This isn’t my car, by the way. I snapped this picture in Kansas City, MO after finishing my last claim for the day. It had been a long week, and here was a gift waiting for me at a stoplight. And while I was laughing myself silly, I grabbed my camera and thought, “If that’s not blog-worthy, nothing is.” When I put my camera away I noticed the driver was staring at me in his side mirror. I smiled. He looked away. He looked like he was in his late 20′s.
There’s just so many things wrong with this photograph, and I have so many questions. For instance: is it really necessary to have both a Nickelback bumpersticker AND a personalized Nickelback license plate? The procurement of either of these materials is sufficient to cause hysterical confusion in all who look upon the horror. Why both? And which came first? Let’s assume that the license plate came first. What must have prompted him to obtain the bumpersticker? How long had he had only the plate when he decided that it was not enough? Was he afraid it was too esoteric? Perhaps one day he awoke at 2 in the afternoon and realized suddenly that the plate only reached out and offended those persons already acquainted with Nickelback, whereas his goal had been to advertise and recruit new fans out of those middle-aged, midwestern soccer moms who passed through his neighborhood, and, seeing his vehicle in the driveway of his parents’ suburban two-story, registered only confusion. Had some of the neighbors stopped his father from mowing the yard to ask what that curious collection of letters was intended to signify? This forcing his father, unaware himself of anything beyond the fact that his son had dropped out of college, moved back home unannounced and was as frustrating, as unemployed, as unbearable as ever, to call down to the basement seeking clarification for the neighbor who kindly waited out front, dog on leash. “Getting dark,” the neighbor would think to himself.
On the other hand, if he already had the bumpersticker, why add the license plate? Is there supposed to be a progression to his relationship with Nickelback? Maybe he has both of them in order to clarify. Maybe he got the bumpersticker thinking it would show people how much he loves the band, only most people he showed thought it was a joke. Thought his love was a joke. So the one-two punch of sticker and plate is a very clear, bold declaration to all who see it: What your eyes are seeing is not an accident. I am someone who loves Nickelback. This is not funny to me. Actually, it’s really totally serious.
Never Again.
Did you read the bumpersticker, incidentally? It says “Warning: Driver Under the Influence of Nickelback.” Perhaps this guy had gotten in a few car accidents because he was listening to Nickelback so much and the judge, knowing that our superfan would never seek medical help for his addiction, ordered him to declare the important fact so that other drivers might read it and take the necessary precautions. But here’s maybe the strangest thing of all. The sticker and the plate are on a newish looking, dark red Ford Focus. Not exactly the car of choice for the Bland-Rock crowd, although I guess the car is about as forgettable as the band’s music, so there could be another subtle layer of irony to it all. What if it’s his wife’s car and she hates Nickelback, but she asked him to go to the DMV to get the plates registered, and the car just came back like that? For that matter, did the homely woman at the DMV realize what he wanted on his license? Did she ask him about it? Did she try to stop him? When he wrote down his plate idea, was he embarrassed? He should have been. Or what if it wasn’t even his car, he just borrowed it from a friend, and he doesn’t even really like Nickelback that much, even though he did take said friend to their concert last time they were in town. “It was okay,” he thought at the time, but when his friend offered to let him burn their CDs, he politely declined.
If you haven’t noticed, I am really curious about this guy. How in the world do you get to that point? What is his thought process like? Because I just don’t understand how you live your life everyday and come to the conclusion that what’s missing is a Nickeback license plate, and then feeling so strongly about that that you actually go to the trouble to get one. And then, on top of that, you feel that a mere license plate is insufficient for your love and you get a bumpersticker; a really dumb one too. I guess my real question is, how much time every day does this guy spend thinking about and listening to Nickelback? And what effect does that have on his intelligence, his interpersonal relationships, his future? Does he have Nickelback pajamas? Does he have any friends? What if Nickelback is the only band he ever listens to?
I saw a person recently with the licenseplate that said “JESAVS.” Really? They were so bent on making their car advertise for Christ that they didn’t care if they only got half his name? Did they think that would count as partial credit in Heaven? That God would think better of them if they slapped the first two letters of his name on their car that they don’t wash? Has the world gone insane? And why “JESAVS” ? Were all the good ones taken? “HESRSN,” “IAMSVD,” “GODSCR” (little did that churchgoer know he just started advertising for a Satanist Metal-band called “God Scar”). I guess bumperstickers are one thing, but when you insist that your license plate should make any kind of important statement about who you are, haven’t you sortof devalued both the idea and yourself?
I’ll tell you a secret. When I was 17, I owned Nickelback’s first album, “Silver Side Up.” I’m not going to deny the appeal of the music for me at that time. They were like a new, edgier version of Creed, and if you are the type of person who finds yourself looking for a new, edgier version of Creed, then is there really any talking to you? This was also the time when I was listening to Everclear a whole lot. This was the time when I would contemplate which was my favorite movie, “I Know What You Did Last Summer” or “Scream 2″ ? In 10th grade I had a green backpack, and I wrote the names of those movies on there as a statement, I thought, which declared that I was someone who knew about those movies; was someone who knew SO much about them, in fact, that I needed their names on my backpack. They belonged there If you wanted to talk about horror movies, I was your guy and all you had to do was ask. No one asked. I got made fun of. And rightfully so. Douchebag upperclassmen would grab my backpack and mock me and say the names in retarded voices and tell me I was stupid. And that’s fine, I deserved it probably; but what’s confusing is that the very type of guys who mocked me when I was 16 are the same ones getting custom Nickelback license plates when they’re 27.
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