I've officially arrived. Today I received my first direct death threat from DM, which I have deleted as per my policy of deleting everything that dipshit posts on my blog.
Either way, I'm apparently going to die today.
Check back tomorrow for the exciting conclusion.
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Rule Number One
Down in Texas where guns and guitars
Are the friends that man loves best
You might feel like your spinning wheels
Are truly headed West
Someone said the best we can hope for
Is to make a beautiful mess
And I put my soul up for sale
And the whole world asked
Could you take any less?
--Over the Rhine, “Last Night on Earth Again”
Rule Number One of my life is pretty simple.
Don’t get too attached.
I say it’s “Drink Local,” but that’s really Rule Number Two, since Rule Number One always seems like one of those things not to say. Some of the worst things about this life we all are forced to lead can be summed up by looking at Rule Number One. Everyone and everything leaves at some point. This, I’m forced to admit, includes me. I hold on to things for far, far too long because I want to believe that I can, somehow, overcome the simple truth that everything ends. But in the end there’s that one rule.
Don’t get too attached.
---------------------
I’m supposed to go back to Chicago for the first time since I moved in a couple weeks. I’ve been dreaming about that return since, basically, the moment my Chevy and I hit southbound 55 out of Brookfield.
Now I don’t want to get on that plane and fly north.
I’d rather get in my Mazda and drive West.
I have no idea what I’d do when I get there. I don’t know where “there” is. I’m just assuming that at some point I’d run out of road. When you run out of road there are three options: you can go back the way you came, find a different direction, or keep going straight and see what happens.
---------------------
I shouldn’t be allowed in to animal shelters.
I fall in love with abandoned dogs too quickly. I just want to take them all home and hug them. Even if a dog that I want to rescue has been adopted there’s always another. Next week. Next month. Forever.
It depresses me. It leaves me feeling helpless.
---------------------
I’ve come to understand my tendency to fall for what I call “Crazy Girls.” It’s a specific neuroticism. On my part. I want to be the hero. I want to save the day.
At the end of the day, though, someone gets abandoned. I can never tell who abandons and who is abandoned, though.
I’m beginning to fear that it’s me who will always do the abandoning, though. Such is the nature of Rule Number One.
----------------------
It’s a strange thing, living my life. I suppose I’m successful. I have all the accoutrements that indicate success. I park that new car of mine outside of the apartment I’ve filled with gadgets and toys and books. I get updates about my 401(k) in the mail. I get a paycheck that’s more than enough to purchase all of the things I need and most of the things I want.
But that new car, that apartment full of toys, that 401(k), that paycheck all serve to create a life I don’t want, I don’t need. They trap me.
They trap me because I bought in to the idea that all of these things matter. They trap me because I keep thinking I can justify my entrapment by showing ever more success. But my life now has to follow me around on a truck. My things own me.
The life I never wanted forces me to continue living it.
----------------------
A wealthy man walked up to the prophet one day and asked how he could get in to Heaven.
The prophet replied, “Sell off all you have and give the proceeds to the poor.”
The rich man walked away unhappy, for he wanted his things more than he wanted Heaven. When he was out of earshot, the prophet turned back to the crowd and said, “It is easier for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle than a rich man to make it to Heaven.”
A murmur began in the crowd. For the crowd, you see, wanted Heaven, but they also wanted riches.
The prophet saw their discomfort and asked them why they complained so.
One man stepped forward and said, “But I need to put food on the table and my children through school. I have a cell phone bill and cable TV and that unlimited 3G data plan for my new iPad doesn’t pay for itself. All of these things are necessary for me to live here. I can’t be waiting for Heaven until the day I die.”
The prophet smiled, for he had heard all of these arguments before. “Were you not there?” he asked, “That day in the synagogue where I walked in and said that the Kingdom of God is here, now? Were you not here when I said that I was building it on this Earth?
“How can we build Heaven on Earth together if we insist on trapping ourselves in our own personal Hells?”
The crowd slowly melted away, even unhappier than before. For as much as they wanted to find their way to Heaven, they also wanted easy answers. Everyone else had promised them easy answers if they just had enough money or lacked enough sense.
So they went away and tried to forget the prophet’s words. They bought 58” LCD TVs that were as thin as a sheet of paper and were happy for a while. Then when that brief bit of euphoria wore off their new 58” TVs told them that if they bought a new BMW 5-Series they’d be happy, then the iPhone 5, the XBOX 720, that new mp3 player that could literally store every song ever recorded, every podcast ever made, and have enough room left over for all the porn on the internet.
But those things only temporarily made them happy. At night on their adjustable memory foam beds they lay awake and stared at their ceilings, unable to forget the words of the prophet.
So they bought season tickets and hoped that a championship season would satisfy them. They sought out gourmet chefs and the best wine in the hope they’d fill themselves to the point where they’d forget it all. But they never forgot the words of the prophet.
Every day the bills came. Every month they did the math, came up just short or with just enough. Every year they dreamed of that big raise, that big promotion, that new job that would finally provide them with all they needed.
All the while the prophet spent his days wandering on his single pair of sandals, wearing his single cloak, sleeping under the stars.
Every night while the crowd stared at their ceilings the prophet slept soundly.
------------------------------------
Perhaps I need a different Rule Number One. Maybe “Don’t get too attached to the wrong things” would have been better.
But I fear that I no longer know what the right things are.
I fear that there are no right things.
Mostly, though, I’m just afraid.
What happens if I reduce my life to the absolute necessities and travel about as I see fit, then one day find myself reaching the end of that road and wondering why I ever left my comfortable apartment and all my toys for a life of senseless wandering? What if it turns out that the things that seem like the right answers now just seem that way because I’m so tired of the answers I’ve always chased?
That other life always seems so shiny, so worthwhile, when your own is dusty and boring.
It’s why the new convert is a zealot.
It’s also why the new convert is always so damn annoying to the people who have been trudging along for so long.
Are the friends that man loves best
You might feel like your spinning wheels
Are truly headed West
Someone said the best we can hope for
Is to make a beautiful mess
And I put my soul up for sale
And the whole world asked
Could you take any less?
--Over the Rhine, “Last Night on Earth Again”
Rule Number One of my life is pretty simple.
Don’t get too attached.
I say it’s “Drink Local,” but that’s really Rule Number Two, since Rule Number One always seems like one of those things not to say. Some of the worst things about this life we all are forced to lead can be summed up by looking at Rule Number One. Everyone and everything leaves at some point. This, I’m forced to admit, includes me. I hold on to things for far, far too long because I want to believe that I can, somehow, overcome the simple truth that everything ends. But in the end there’s that one rule.
Don’t get too attached.
---------------------
I’m supposed to go back to Chicago for the first time since I moved in a couple weeks. I’ve been dreaming about that return since, basically, the moment my Chevy and I hit southbound 55 out of Brookfield.
Now I don’t want to get on that plane and fly north.
I’d rather get in my Mazda and drive West.
I have no idea what I’d do when I get there. I don’t know where “there” is. I’m just assuming that at some point I’d run out of road. When you run out of road there are three options: you can go back the way you came, find a different direction, or keep going straight and see what happens.
---------------------
I shouldn’t be allowed in to animal shelters.
I fall in love with abandoned dogs too quickly. I just want to take them all home and hug them. Even if a dog that I want to rescue has been adopted there’s always another. Next week. Next month. Forever.
It depresses me. It leaves me feeling helpless.
---------------------
I’ve come to understand my tendency to fall for what I call “Crazy Girls.” It’s a specific neuroticism. On my part. I want to be the hero. I want to save the day.
At the end of the day, though, someone gets abandoned. I can never tell who abandons and who is abandoned, though.
I’m beginning to fear that it’s me who will always do the abandoning, though. Such is the nature of Rule Number One.
----------------------
It’s a strange thing, living my life. I suppose I’m successful. I have all the accoutrements that indicate success. I park that new car of mine outside of the apartment I’ve filled with gadgets and toys and books. I get updates about my 401(k) in the mail. I get a paycheck that’s more than enough to purchase all of the things I need and most of the things I want.
But that new car, that apartment full of toys, that 401(k), that paycheck all serve to create a life I don’t want, I don’t need. They trap me.
They trap me because I bought in to the idea that all of these things matter. They trap me because I keep thinking I can justify my entrapment by showing ever more success. But my life now has to follow me around on a truck. My things own me.
The life I never wanted forces me to continue living it.
----------------------
A wealthy man walked up to the prophet one day and asked how he could get in to Heaven.
The prophet replied, “Sell off all you have and give the proceeds to the poor.”
The rich man walked away unhappy, for he wanted his things more than he wanted Heaven. When he was out of earshot, the prophet turned back to the crowd and said, “It is easier for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle than a rich man to make it to Heaven.”
A murmur began in the crowd. For the crowd, you see, wanted Heaven, but they also wanted riches.
The prophet saw their discomfort and asked them why they complained so.
One man stepped forward and said, “But I need to put food on the table and my children through school. I have a cell phone bill and cable TV and that unlimited 3G data plan for my new iPad doesn’t pay for itself. All of these things are necessary for me to live here. I can’t be waiting for Heaven until the day I die.”
The prophet smiled, for he had heard all of these arguments before. “Were you not there?” he asked, “That day in the synagogue where I walked in and said that the Kingdom of God is here, now? Were you not here when I said that I was building it on this Earth?
“How can we build Heaven on Earth together if we insist on trapping ourselves in our own personal Hells?”
The crowd slowly melted away, even unhappier than before. For as much as they wanted to find their way to Heaven, they also wanted easy answers. Everyone else had promised them easy answers if they just had enough money or lacked enough sense.
So they went away and tried to forget the prophet’s words. They bought 58” LCD TVs that were as thin as a sheet of paper and were happy for a while. Then when that brief bit of euphoria wore off their new 58” TVs told them that if they bought a new BMW 5-Series they’d be happy, then the iPhone 5, the XBOX 720, that new mp3 player that could literally store every song ever recorded, every podcast ever made, and have enough room left over for all the porn on the internet.
But those things only temporarily made them happy. At night on their adjustable memory foam beds they lay awake and stared at their ceilings, unable to forget the words of the prophet.
So they bought season tickets and hoped that a championship season would satisfy them. They sought out gourmet chefs and the best wine in the hope they’d fill themselves to the point where they’d forget it all. But they never forgot the words of the prophet.
Every day the bills came. Every month they did the math, came up just short or with just enough. Every year they dreamed of that big raise, that big promotion, that new job that would finally provide them with all they needed.
All the while the prophet spent his days wandering on his single pair of sandals, wearing his single cloak, sleeping under the stars.
Every night while the crowd stared at their ceilings the prophet slept soundly.
------------------------------------
Perhaps I need a different Rule Number One. Maybe “Don’t get too attached to the wrong things” would have been better.
But I fear that I no longer know what the right things are.
I fear that there are no right things.
Mostly, though, I’m just afraid.
What happens if I reduce my life to the absolute necessities and travel about as I see fit, then one day find myself reaching the end of that road and wondering why I ever left my comfortable apartment and all my toys for a life of senseless wandering? What if it turns out that the things that seem like the right answers now just seem that way because I’m so tired of the answers I’ve always chased?
That other life always seems so shiny, so worthwhile, when your own is dusty and boring.
It’s why the new convert is a zealot.
It’s also why the new convert is always so damn annoying to the people who have been trudging along for so long.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Update for the Sake of Updating
So I'm too tired to write about the Council of Nicaea. I'm also too tired to write about trickster gods, which is what I was kinda-sorta working on. I have another post worked up about the general awesomeness of storytelling and Neil Gaiman, but it hasn't really jelled yet.
Instead of doing actual work, then, I think I'll just write a quick update post.
Next Saturday. Lost Immigrants. The place is called Love and War in Texas and it's off of north bound 75 in Plano. Seeing as how the building seems to be actually made out of neon signage, I doubt you can miss it (Michael Mock, I'm looking at you. Also, it's right by the Fry's. And it's made out of neon signs).The band's website say they go on at 8 pm. And it's $8.
Either way, Big A says he may or may not be available later on, as he works at night. Michael Mock seems down. I'm hoping Fake Al Gore is, y'know, not going to be in Colorado.
Still, I'm thinking perhaps dinner and hanging out, if anyone is interested. Some time in the neighborhood of six-thirty-ish, I'd say. And this time there's about a 90% chance I won't get confused by the parking structure, so I might even be there when I say I'll be there...
Also, other random Dallas-area people who may or may not be reading this blog and enjoy really good music of the neo-traditional/Americana variety should also go. The Lost Immigrants are really quite good.
------------------------------
Meanwhile, on the list of things that kinda-sorta piss me off about not living in Chicago:
A Chicago musician named Matthew Leone was recently hospitalized. A shitload of Chicago bands decided to hold a benefit. Sunday actually marked one of my dream concerts: Local H and the Lovehammers on the same goddamn stage. Not only that, but they went on at the same time and played a cover of "Baba O'Riley."
Seriously. If anyone is willing to point me to a YouTube video of that, I'll be eternally grateful.
-----------------------
Also, on a totally unrelated note: I've resigned myself to the idea that I'll be spending my thirtieth birthday in Dallas. This kinda-sorta depresses me. Um, I'd like to be out of Dallas by early 2012, ideally. I've decided that if the world is going to end in 2012, I'd rather see it end from somewhere else...
I don't generally do birthday parties. I believe part of the problem is that I historically have not had a lot of friends and I don't like hanging out with large groups of people. However, I'm thinking of doing something different for 30. This is, admittedly, nine months away, but hey...
See, I got to thinking about this specifically because I went to see Local H on my 28th and the Lost Immigrants on my 29th. So I was thinking, "Hey, birthday concert. That'd be fucking awesome." Perhaps, y'know, invite Jessi Lynn on down, see if the Lost Immigrants were available or Seneca was over on this side of the pond in May.
Then I realized that I live in a two-bedroom apartment and do not so much have a venue for such things.
I can't tell you how much it sucks to not be excruciatingly rich. So, basically, if I win the Lottery (which would be tough, since I don't so much play the Lottery...) between now and then and find myself in a place where I'm stupid rich, I'm going to have a sweet party. Seriously, this would be my ultimate birthday lineup:
Jessi Lynn
Seneca
Lost Immigrants
Mike Doughty
Lovehammers
Local H
RCPM
Also, it's entirely possible that Idlewild, the Saw Doctors, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden would be involved in the Real Ultimate Power Birthday Lineup, but that would be one hell of a birthday Gedstravaganza. And even my imaginary Lotto winnings scenario doesn't have enough funds for that. And I'd need more hangers-on to really justify it. And if it gets too big the sets would have to be really short, it would have to be stretched over two days, or there would need to be multiple stages, which would kind of defeat the purpose. So that's tough.
And, now that I think about it, my musical tastes are really bizarre. But, okay, let me see if I can turn this in to an even more pointless thought experiment. There'd be three sets.
First, the singer-songwriter set, consisting of Jessi Lynn, Matt Nathanson, Over the Rhine, and Mike Doughty.
Second, the roots rock set, consisting of the Lost Immigrants, Saw Doctors, the Peacemakers, and Pearl Jam.[1]
Third, the rock goodness set, consisting of Seneca, the Lovehammers, Local H, Idlewild, and Soundgarden.[2]
Why do I get the feeling that if I woke up a billionaire tomorrow I wouldn't actually change much in the way of my living habits, but I'd get in to the habit of, say, paying Idlewild a stupid amount of money to fly over and throw a private concert?
That would be awesome.
Also, I literally have no clue why I just wrote this part of a post that was supposed to be a really quick update. This is apparently what happens when I feel like writing but don't have the brain power to write anything, y'know, worthwhile.
---------------------------
[1]Pearl Jam doesn't technically fit here, but of the major grunge acts they were definitely the folk-iest. And the rock goodness set is just too long as it is. Even so, I've seen the Saw Doctors and Peacemakers do two and a half hour sets and, although I haven't personally witnessed one, I know Pearl Jam will do up to three hours. So even at that it's a long night.
[2]At this point I'm thinking that there's only one thing that needs to be done here. Throw Flogging Molly, the Fratellis, Green Day, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Randy Rogers Band, Cross Canadian Ragweed, and Reckless Kelly in here and call it "Gedsapalooza." It'll be about a thousand times better than this year's Lollapalooza was. Plus it will have this bizarre Chicago rock/Texas Country vibe that literally makes sense to only me.
Why can't I be an eccentric billionaire? I'd probably leave random waitresses $100 tips for cups of coffee, adopt all the dogs in dog shelters, and engage in the creation of whimsically bizarre music festivals. I sure as shit wouldn't go out and destroy the Gulf of Mexico, create human centipedes, or talk about how I give to charity because, um, you should see my tax returns...
EDIT:
Holy mother of awesomeness. It's on YouTube. Except the cameraperson obviously did not understand that Scott Lucas was the most important person on that stage...
Instead of doing actual work, then, I think I'll just write a quick update post.
Next Saturday. Lost Immigrants. The place is called Love and War in Texas and it's off of north bound 75 in Plano. Seeing as how the building seems to be actually made out of neon signage, I doubt you can miss it (Michael Mock, I'm looking at you. Also, it's right by the Fry's. And it's made out of neon signs).The band's website say they go on at 8 pm. And it's $8.
Either way, Big A says he may or may not be available later on, as he works at night. Michael Mock seems down. I'm hoping Fake Al Gore is, y'know, not going to be in Colorado.
Still, I'm thinking perhaps dinner and hanging out, if anyone is interested. Some time in the neighborhood of six-thirty-ish, I'd say. And this time there's about a 90% chance I won't get confused by the parking structure, so I might even be there when I say I'll be there...
Also, other random Dallas-area people who may or may not be reading this blog and enjoy really good music of the neo-traditional/Americana variety should also go. The Lost Immigrants are really quite good.
------------------------------
Meanwhile, on the list of things that kinda-sorta piss me off about not living in Chicago:
A Chicago musician named Matthew Leone was recently hospitalized. A shitload of Chicago bands decided to hold a benefit. Sunday actually marked one of my dream concerts: Local H and the Lovehammers on the same goddamn stage. Not only that, but they went on at the same time and played a cover of "Baba O'Riley."
Seriously. If anyone is willing to point me to a YouTube video of that, I'll be eternally grateful.
-----------------------
Also, on a totally unrelated note: I've resigned myself to the idea that I'll be spending my thirtieth birthday in Dallas. This kinda-sorta depresses me. Um, I'd like to be out of Dallas by early 2012, ideally. I've decided that if the world is going to end in 2012, I'd rather see it end from somewhere else...
I don't generally do birthday parties. I believe part of the problem is that I historically have not had a lot of friends and I don't like hanging out with large groups of people. However, I'm thinking of doing something different for 30. This is, admittedly, nine months away, but hey...
See, I got to thinking about this specifically because I went to see Local H on my 28th and the Lost Immigrants on my 29th. So I was thinking, "Hey, birthday concert. That'd be fucking awesome." Perhaps, y'know, invite Jessi Lynn on down, see if the Lost Immigrants were available or Seneca was over on this side of the pond in May.
Then I realized that I live in a two-bedroom apartment and do not so much have a venue for such things.
I can't tell you how much it sucks to not be excruciatingly rich. So, basically, if I win the Lottery (which would be tough, since I don't so much play the Lottery...) between now and then and find myself in a place where I'm stupid rich, I'm going to have a sweet party. Seriously, this would be my ultimate birthday lineup:
Jessi Lynn
Seneca
Lost Immigrants
Mike Doughty
Lovehammers
Local H
RCPM
Also, it's entirely possible that Idlewild, the Saw Doctors, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden would be involved in the Real Ultimate Power Birthday Lineup, but that would be one hell of a birthday Gedstravaganza. And even my imaginary Lotto winnings scenario doesn't have enough funds for that. And I'd need more hangers-on to really justify it. And if it gets too big the sets would have to be really short, it would have to be stretched over two days, or there would need to be multiple stages, which would kind of defeat the purpose. So that's tough.
And, now that I think about it, my musical tastes are really bizarre. But, okay, let me see if I can turn this in to an even more pointless thought experiment. There'd be three sets.
First, the singer-songwriter set, consisting of Jessi Lynn, Matt Nathanson, Over the Rhine, and Mike Doughty.
Second, the roots rock set, consisting of the Lost Immigrants, Saw Doctors, the Peacemakers, and Pearl Jam.[1]
Third, the rock goodness set, consisting of Seneca, the Lovehammers, Local H, Idlewild, and Soundgarden.[2]
Why do I get the feeling that if I woke up a billionaire tomorrow I wouldn't actually change much in the way of my living habits, but I'd get in to the habit of, say, paying Idlewild a stupid amount of money to fly over and throw a private concert?
That would be awesome.
Also, I literally have no clue why I just wrote this part of a post that was supposed to be a really quick update. This is apparently what happens when I feel like writing but don't have the brain power to write anything, y'know, worthwhile.
---------------------------
[1]Pearl Jam doesn't technically fit here, but of the major grunge acts they were definitely the folk-iest. And the rock goodness set is just too long as it is. Even so, I've seen the Saw Doctors and Peacemakers do two and a half hour sets and, although I haven't personally witnessed one, I know Pearl Jam will do up to three hours. So even at that it's a long night.
[2]At this point I'm thinking that there's only one thing that needs to be done here. Throw Flogging Molly, the Fratellis, Green Day, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Randy Rogers Band, Cross Canadian Ragweed, and Reckless Kelly in here and call it "Gedsapalooza." It'll be about a thousand times better than this year's Lollapalooza was. Plus it will have this bizarre Chicago rock/Texas Country vibe that literally makes sense to only me.
Why can't I be an eccentric billionaire? I'd probably leave random waitresses $100 tips for cups of coffee, adopt all the dogs in dog shelters, and engage in the creation of whimsically bizarre music festivals. I sure as shit wouldn't go out and destroy the Gulf of Mexico, create human centipedes, or talk about how I give to charity because, um, you should see my tax returns...
EDIT:
Holy mother of awesomeness. It's on YouTube. Except the cameraperson obviously did not understand that Scott Lucas was the most important person on that stage...
Friday, August 20, 2010
Is Just Sayin', is All...
So the A.H.A.S.D.A.C. was woefully under-represented at my Six Months in Hell Party. However, there is an opportunity for, um, redemption? Yeah. I'ma call it redemption.
Next Saturday. Lost Immigrants are doing a show in Plano. I'm thinking of having a meeting...
Next Saturday. Lost Immigrants are doing a show in Plano. I'm thinking of having a meeting...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
So, In Case Anyone's Wondering...
The universe loves me.
Seriously. I'm heading back to Chicago some time in the neighborhood of October 8th and will be there for the next week.
Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers just announced they're doing a show at Joe's on Weed Street on October 9th.
Kismet. Karma. Whatever you want to call it, I have it.
Seriously. I'm heading back to Chicago some time in the neighborhood of October 8th and will be there for the next week.
Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers just announced they're doing a show at Joe's on Weed Street on October 9th.
Kismet. Karma. Whatever you want to call it, I have it.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
And but too, also...
The term of the day:
Argumentum ad sparkleponium: an appeal to a mythical race of creatures or a non-existent phenomenon.
This is why I've come to love Sadly, No!
Argumentum ad sparkleponium: an appeal to a mythical race of creatures or a non-existent phenomenon.
This is why I've come to love Sadly, No!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Pithy
VorJack over at Unreasonable Faith linked to my first official Byzantine Logic post. Over the course of setting the stage for the quote in question, VorJack came up with a quote that I, in turn, absolutely want to steal. Erm, borrow. With full credit given:
To be fair, for some things you only really need to go as far back as the emergence of the first single-celled organism...
Like all good historians, he realizes that to talk about a period of history, he has to go back to well before that period actually began. Back to, say, when the universe cooled enough for protons to form.
To be fair, for some things you only really need to go as far back as the emergence of the first single-celled organism...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
This Might be the Best Idea I've Ever Had...Or the Worst...
On January 9th, 2010 I rolled across the border from Oklahoma in to Texas.
That means that we’re just over a week from my six month anniversary in the state of Texas. My first thought was to spend July 9th, 2010 quietly drinking myself in to oblivion. Then I realized it would be a hell of a lot more fun to noisily drink myself in to oblivion.
After that I decided it would be even better to skip the “drink myself in to oblivion” part. So I’ve decided I’m going to have a party.
I’m affectionately referring to the plan as the “Six Months in Hell” party.
This plan is still in its infancy, but the basic outline is this: I want to get everyone I know in the general Dallas area together (well, y’know, everyone I know that I like. And that can make it). I’m also a lazy, lazy bum, so I have a strong desire to do as little actual work as possible.
Fortunately, it appears as though the Lost Immigrants may have helped me solve that problem.
The Lost Immigrants, as you may or may not know, are not only my favorite Dallas-based band, they’re also the only Dallas-based band that I know of. And they’re doing a show on the 23rd at the White Elephant Saloon in Fort Worth and another on the 30th at the Tap-In Grill in Grapevine.
I’m thinking this: July 30th, Geds’s “Six Months in Hell” party at the Tap-In Grill in Grapevine. With far more interesting entertainment provided by the Lost Immigrants, because I’m not actually all that cool.
Also, it will be 103% vuvuzela-free.
And just for y'all:
That means that we’re just over a week from my six month anniversary in the state of Texas. My first thought was to spend July 9th, 2010 quietly drinking myself in to oblivion. Then I realized it would be a hell of a lot more fun to noisily drink myself in to oblivion.
After that I decided it would be even better to skip the “drink myself in to oblivion” part. So I’ve decided I’m going to have a party.
I’m affectionately referring to the plan as the “Six Months in Hell” party.
This plan is still in its infancy, but the basic outline is this: I want to get everyone I know in the general Dallas area together (well, y’know, everyone I know that I like. And that can make it). I’m also a lazy, lazy bum, so I have a strong desire to do as little actual work as possible.
Fortunately, it appears as though the Lost Immigrants may have helped me solve that problem.
The Lost Immigrants, as you may or may not know, are not only my favorite Dallas-based band, they’re also the only Dallas-based band that I know of. And they’re doing a show on the 23rd at the White Elephant Saloon in Fort Worth and another on the 30th at the Tap-In Grill in Grapevine.
I’m thinking this: July 30th, Geds’s “Six Months in Hell” party at the Tap-In Grill in Grapevine. With far more interesting entertainment provided by the Lost Immigrants, because I’m not actually all that cool.
Also, it will be 103% vuvuzela-free.
And just for y'all:
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday Evening Ramblings
Right now is a dangerous time. I’ve had a lot of thoughts flying about my head lately that haven’t exactly come to roost. I feel like writing. But I have no particular thing I feel like writing about.
This means it’s time for an odd, disjointed post. Hooray!
----------------------------------------
I wandered across a post this morning over at Atheist Revolution entitled “Understanding Apathetic Atheists.” The, uh, the title is pretty damn self-explanatory of the purpose of the post. But, in general, the point was to basically berate those of us non-theists who aren’t active. Y’know, for atheism.
Now, the overall argument that we shouldn’t let moronic fundamentalists walk all over us is good. But, then, I would have been against the Texas School Board of Education’s travesty of a history and science curriculum before I left the church. I was pro-choice before I left the church, too. I also had absolutely nothing against gays and would have been fine allowing them to marry each other to their hearts’ content.
Oh, I was also strongly in favor of separation of church and state long before I was pro-choice or fine with the idea of gay marriage. In fact, the latter two ideas grew out of the former.
Let’s consider my motivation. I see the science and history stuff as a matter of accuracy. Science says A. Ergo, we should teach A in school. Same thing with history. To do otherwise is utter foolishness and a dangerous road to travel. You don’t see anyone seriously suggesting we teach that the world is flat or that pi is exactly 3 just because you can find that in the Bible.
Similarly, I don’t see where the government should limit abortion or the ability of two consenting adults to get married. I especially don’t see it when the bald-faced justifications of the people in favor of making those things illegal is religious. Making something illegal just because it’s against someone’s religion is a violation of the First Amendment. Period. Full stop.
I realized at some point in my life that Christians can’t unilaterally declare something illegal just because they don’t like it. I didn’t need to leave the church to see that. I’m pro-choice. I’m pro-gay marriage. I’m anti-TxSBoE. But I don’t hold any of these positions because I don’t believe in god.
Moreover, I would never argue that someone should agree with me just because they’re an atheist. That’s stupid. Being an atheist doesn’t make anybody an authority on anything. If Richard Dawkins walked up to me tomorrow and said that the moon is made of green cheese I’d respond with, “Yeah, prove it.” If PZ Myers walked in to my living room right now and told me my couch was on fire and I should believe him without looking down because he’s an atheist and that means he’s right I’d take a look before standing up.
Either way, they put up this handy-dandy list:
To that I’d like to add a sixth:
Fuck you and stop telling me what to do. I’m going to be as disinterested as I want to be. And if you think I’ll change because you’ll shame me in to being active…well, I got that in church for 25 years…
----------------------------------------
Similarly, Ken Pulliam’s latest post elicited this comment from someone named James:
My response was a long way around saying, “Atheism can’t do that.” Atheism just says, “There is no god that I can find any evidence for.” This is not an ethical framework, this is an observation.
----------------------------------------
So I guess I’m an apathetic atheist. I’ll take it.
Honestly, to me all atheism means is that I don’t go to church on Sundays. It also means that I don’t feel guilt for it. And it means that I don’t have any particular belief that you must be religious to be good. Any other desire to be active in any endeavor comes out of a belief in a particular position. The interesting thing is that I held the vast majority of the positions I held now before I left Christianity.
So I guess that means you don’t have to be an atheist to hold any number of atheist-friendly positions.
Gee…wonder how that’s going to go over…
----------------------------------------
I have a question for people who have spent time in Dallas: What are the giant red wasp thingies?
Oh, and as a follow-up: what the fuck was a giant red wasp doing in my bedroom when I got home from work tonight?
Seriously, the thing must have had a two-inch wingspan. And I’m not the sort of guy who usually gets too worked up about killing bugs, but I hit that fucker with a broom. Like, a dozen times. I think I only managed to stun it.
Either way, seriously. GIANT. FUCKING. WASPS.
----------------------------------------
Right after I moved I spent a bunch of time bitching about personality tests administered by HR people. The worst one of those I ever took was also the first one. I was doing an internship at my church and they gave me a spiritual gifts inventory to take.
So, basically, I took this test and it told me what spiritual gifts I had and, crucially, which ones I didn’t. As I recall, the point was to figure out what Jesus had made me good at and what Jesus had been all, “Nah, dude, don’t worry about that shit, man,” about.
Of course if you know Jesus he’s all about half-assing it through life. So this is a perfectly valid use of the various Biblical lists of what we should be if we’re proper and good Christians.
Either way, as I recall, I did well on the teachin’ and the preachin’ type stuff. I did poorly on the hospitality type stuff.
One of my stated goals, now that I live on my own and all, is that there’s always room in mi casa for someone who needs a place to crash. Y’know, for a night or two. Ain’t nobody moving in all permanent-like.
Since I’ve moved to Dallas I’ve had an Irish rock band crash in my living room and a Peacemakers’ fan stay in my guest bedroom.
So I guess it’s good that my fruit of the spirit didn’t involve hospitality, then. Maybe I had to leave Christianity to get the Holy Spirit to say, “Okay, you got this now…"
----------------------------------------
I upgraded the ol' iBomination to OS 4.0 today.
Here's what I love about 4.0: you can always see the wallpaper. I've had the same phone wallpaper for four years now, ever since the first time I saw RCPM at Joe's on Weed Street and took this picture with my very first camera phone (1.3 whole megapixels!):
There was really no point in which I could see it on the Tilt, since the menu covered half the pic.
----------------------------------------
I'm apparently getting a spot at a VIP table for the Austin show at Antone's on Friday. In a word: giggity.
----------------------------------------
Seriously.
GIANT. FUCKING. WASPS.
Erm, well…GIANT. FUCKING. WASP.
This means it’s time for an odd, disjointed post. Hooray!
----------------------------------------
I wandered across a post this morning over at Atheist Revolution entitled “Understanding Apathetic Atheists.” The, uh, the title is pretty damn self-explanatory of the purpose of the post. But, in general, the point was to basically berate those of us non-theists who aren’t active. Y’know, for atheism.
Now, the overall argument that we shouldn’t let moronic fundamentalists walk all over us is good. But, then, I would have been against the Texas School Board of Education’s travesty of a history and science curriculum before I left the church. I was pro-choice before I left the church, too. I also had absolutely nothing against gays and would have been fine allowing them to marry each other to their hearts’ content.
Oh, I was also strongly in favor of separation of church and state long before I was pro-choice or fine with the idea of gay marriage. In fact, the latter two ideas grew out of the former.
Let’s consider my motivation. I see the science and history stuff as a matter of accuracy. Science says A. Ergo, we should teach A in school. Same thing with history. To do otherwise is utter foolishness and a dangerous road to travel. You don’t see anyone seriously suggesting we teach that the world is flat or that pi is exactly 3 just because you can find that in the Bible.
Similarly, I don’t see where the government should limit abortion or the ability of two consenting adults to get married. I especially don’t see it when the bald-faced justifications of the people in favor of making those things illegal is religious. Making something illegal just because it’s against someone’s religion is a violation of the First Amendment. Period. Full stop.
I realized at some point in my life that Christians can’t unilaterally declare something illegal just because they don’t like it. I didn’t need to leave the church to see that. I’m pro-choice. I’m pro-gay marriage. I’m anti-TxSBoE. But I don’t hold any of these positions because I don’t believe in god.
Moreover, I would never argue that someone should agree with me just because they’re an atheist. That’s stupid. Being an atheist doesn’t make anybody an authority on anything. If Richard Dawkins walked up to me tomorrow and said that the moon is made of green cheese I’d respond with, “Yeah, prove it.” If PZ Myers walked in to my living room right now and told me my couch was on fire and I should believe him without looking down because he’s an atheist and that means he’s right I’d take a look before standing up.
Either way, they put up this handy-dandy list:
1. Learned helplessness: I've tried, and it is futile. Nothing I do seems to make a difference.
2. Safety: Taking some sort of action would mean "coming out" as an atheist, and that isn't safe for me.
3. Insufficient information: I'd like to help, but I honestly don't know what to do.
4. Low relevance: It isn't personally relevant or I've got more important things to worry about.
5. Identity: Taking action to promote atheism sounds like something religious people would do, and I don't want to be anything like them.
To that I’d like to add a sixth:
Fuck you and stop telling me what to do. I’m going to be as disinterested as I want to be. And if you think I’ll change because you’ll shame me in to being active…well, I got that in church for 25 years…
----------------------------------------
Similarly, Ken Pulliam’s latest post elicited this comment from someone named James:
Maybe the atheist equivalent of apologetics (has it a name I don't know?) should address this I think not uncommon assumption, and (a) set out the case against theistic ethics (Euthyphro, Old Testament horrors), (b) set out the case for a creditable and respectable non-theistic ethics (e.g. Pullian's intuitionism, Luke's desirism), and (c) set out the case for a non-transcendent but more than satisfactory meaning of life not endorsed by God.
My response was a long way around saying, “Atheism can’t do that.” Atheism just says, “There is no god that I can find any evidence for.” This is not an ethical framework, this is an observation.
----------------------------------------
So I guess I’m an apathetic atheist. I’ll take it.
Honestly, to me all atheism means is that I don’t go to church on Sundays. It also means that I don’t feel guilt for it. And it means that I don’t have any particular belief that you must be religious to be good. Any other desire to be active in any endeavor comes out of a belief in a particular position. The interesting thing is that I held the vast majority of the positions I held now before I left Christianity.
So I guess that means you don’t have to be an atheist to hold any number of atheist-friendly positions.
Gee…wonder how that’s going to go over…
----------------------------------------
I have a question for people who have spent time in Dallas: What are the giant red wasp thingies?
Oh, and as a follow-up: what the fuck was a giant red wasp doing in my bedroom when I got home from work tonight?
Seriously, the thing must have had a two-inch wingspan. And I’m not the sort of guy who usually gets too worked up about killing bugs, but I hit that fucker with a broom. Like, a dozen times. I think I only managed to stun it.
Either way, seriously. GIANT. FUCKING. WASPS.
----------------------------------------
Right after I moved I spent a bunch of time bitching about personality tests administered by HR people. The worst one of those I ever took was also the first one. I was doing an internship at my church and they gave me a spiritual gifts inventory to take.
So, basically, I took this test and it told me what spiritual gifts I had and, crucially, which ones I didn’t. As I recall, the point was to figure out what Jesus had made me good at and what Jesus had been all, “Nah, dude, don’t worry about that shit, man,” about.
Of course if you know Jesus he’s all about half-assing it through life. So this is a perfectly valid use of the various Biblical lists of what we should be if we’re proper and good Christians.
Either way, as I recall, I did well on the teachin’ and the preachin’ type stuff. I did poorly on the hospitality type stuff.
One of my stated goals, now that I live on my own and all, is that there’s always room in mi casa for someone who needs a place to crash. Y’know, for a night or two. Ain’t nobody moving in all permanent-like.
Since I’ve moved to Dallas I’ve had an Irish rock band crash in my living room and a Peacemakers’ fan stay in my guest bedroom.
So I guess it’s good that my fruit of the spirit didn’t involve hospitality, then. Maybe I had to leave Christianity to get the Holy Spirit to say, “Okay, you got this now…"
----------------------------------------
I upgraded the ol' iBomination to OS 4.0 today.
Here's what I love about 4.0: you can always see the wallpaper. I've had the same phone wallpaper for four years now, ever since the first time I saw RCPM at Joe's on Weed Street and took this picture with my very first camera phone (1.3 whole megapixels!):
There was really no point in which I could see it on the Tilt, since the menu covered half the pic.
----------------------------------------
I'm apparently getting a spot at a VIP table for the Austin show at Antone's on Friday. In a word: giggity.
----------------------------------------
Seriously.
GIANT. FUCKING. WASPS.
Erm, well…GIANT. FUCKING. WASP.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I Know the Season is Crawlin' Now, Pretty Soon It'll Fly
On this Sunday morning I'd like to introduce you to my personal lord and savior. His name is Roger Clyne. I'll be going to see him in just five days.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Yup.
If we connect the dots here, the inescapable conclusion is that gay sex is a form of domestic terrorism.
It's impossible not to laugh.
It's impossible not to laugh.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Stockholm Syndrome
So I've had my iPhone 3GS for a week now. And there's only one question going through my head: "Why didn't I do this sooner?"
Actually, the reason for that is simple. The 3GS wasn't out yet when I got my Tilt and I still had my knee-jerk anti-Apple stance. But a year and a half of Windows Mobile 6.1 has given me vast amounts of appreciation for the one, simple fact of the iPhone: it works. It works well. It works really well.
Plus, as someone who loves to think of himself as being on the cutting edge of faffing about, I now have the App Store. If I need to kill some time I can do some Mafia Wars, Crush the Castle (brilliant little App...), or play some sweet tower defense action. And there's always Words with Friends, wherein I learned that playing word games with English Majors is a recipe for disaster.
And there's other random stuff, too, like Stanza. I now have the ability to access all of Project Gutenburg via my phone. It's actually possible for me to use Wikipedia on the go now. The DirecTV app works way better than trying to go through their site on Mobile IE. So, basically, all the stuff I had access to before I still have access to...but better.
I've still got some complaints. The spreadsheet app that I have works a lot less well than Mobile Excel. There's that whole no Flash thing, but I couldn't even watch YouTube videos before, so it's not like I count this as a loss. I still hate iTunes with a passion and miss being able to just hook my phone to my computer and drag and drop. But considering that syncing my phone makes up a relatively tiny amount of my overall usage time, I'll trade a less efficient sync process for a better actual phone.
Either way, I'm a convert.
But you still won't see me hauling around a Macbook any time soon. Hellz no.
Actually, the reason for that is simple. The 3GS wasn't out yet when I got my Tilt and I still had my knee-jerk anti-Apple stance. But a year and a half of Windows Mobile 6.1 has given me vast amounts of appreciation for the one, simple fact of the iPhone: it works. It works well. It works really well.
Plus, as someone who loves to think of himself as being on the cutting edge of faffing about, I now have the App Store. If I need to kill some time I can do some Mafia Wars, Crush the Castle (brilliant little App...), or play some sweet tower defense action. And there's always Words with Friends, wherein I learned that playing word games with English Majors is a recipe for disaster.
And there's other random stuff, too, like Stanza. I now have the ability to access all of Project Gutenburg via my phone. It's actually possible for me to use Wikipedia on the go now. The DirecTV app works way better than trying to go through their site on Mobile IE. So, basically, all the stuff I had access to before I still have access to...but better.
I've still got some complaints. The spreadsheet app that I have works a lot less well than Mobile Excel. There's that whole no Flash thing, but I couldn't even watch YouTube videos before, so it's not like I count this as a loss. I still hate iTunes with a passion and miss being able to just hook my phone to my computer and drag and drop. But considering that syncing my phone makes up a relatively tiny amount of my overall usage time, I'll trade a less efficient sync process for a better actual phone.
Either way, I'm a convert.
But you still won't see me hauling around a Macbook any time soon. Hellz no.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tuesday Tales
I went to the Wildflower Festival on Friday, whereat I saw Cowboy Mouth, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Candlebox.
I knew nothing of Cowboy Mouth before the show. Their live show is excellent. They actually won me over with their energy. Then, when they left the stage, I realized, “Y’know, I can’t actually think of any songs I heard just now that I’d ever want to hear again.” Crazy.
Toad the Wet Sprocket, meanwhile, has been on my list of live shows to get around to seeing ever since I discovered they’d re-formed and started touring about a week after they hit Chicago some time in, um, 2006 or 2007ish. They did not disappoint. Although a combination of a bit of rain that delayed the start of the show and Cowboy Mouth deciding to steal an extra ten minutes forced them to cut their set sort. It’s too bad, as they were really the highlight of my evening.[1]
That statement is about to sound really weird.
Candlebox actually put on a damn good show. It was, objectively speaking, a better show than Toad the Wet Sprocket’s. I kind of have a scale of live shows for major bands (with “major” being a liberal term in some cases). My ground floor is Better than Ezra. I saw them in Quincy, IL at Quincy University while I was at WIU.[2] Basically, I enjoyed the Better than Ezra show, but I got what I wanted to out of it. I’d consider seeing Better than Ezra again, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to do so. Below them, then, are any number of shitty opening acts I’ve seen over the years. Slightly above BtE, meanwhile, are the Gin Blossoms, who get the upgrade because they didn’t use a drum machine.
The second-from-the-top level, meanwhile, is occupied by the Saw Doctors and Local H. I’ve never had a bad time at those shows and always look forward to the next time I’ll see any of those bands. At the very top, lest you have any doubts, are Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. In between the Gin Blossoms and Saw Doctors and Local H is a lot of gray area.[3]
Like, I loved seeing Lucky Boys Confusion at the Double Door and Mike Doughty is great live. I originally put the Lovehammers on par with the Saw Doctors and Local H. But there needs to be a cut off. And I think the cutoff is this: how far would I drive and how many times would I go back? I’ve amply proven my desire to see RCPM and Local H over and over again and the only reason I haven’t done that with the Saw Doctors is that it’s really, really hard to get to the British Isles on a moment’s notice. I simply don’t think I’d put in quite as much effort to see the Lovehammers and Mike Doughty as I would for Local H.[4] And that’s the cut-off.
Either way, here’s the weird thing: in terms of quality, Candlebox surprised me. They did a show that was on par with Local H. The energy was just there. The loudness, surprisingly,[5] was there. But, in the end, my desire to see Candlebox again is pretty low. But there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll see Toad the Wet Sprocket again if the opportunity arises even though Toad’s show wasn’t quite as inspired. Quite simply, Toad has more songs that I like. As best I can tell that’s the delimiter.
---------------------------
Meanwhile, I took advantage of my concert expertise and was up against the barrier by the beginning of the Candlebox set. This is both a good place to be and a bad place to be. On the good, well, being in front is a positive thing. On the bad, well, everyone wants to be in front. So there’s a lot of jostling.
The over-excited drunk girl population was way higher than I would have expected. The extremely pushy, over-excited drunk girl population was also higher than in my previous experience. So on more than one occasion I ended up having some random girl pushing in to the front next to me to take pictures and dance around and be largely annoying.
Somewhere in the middle of Candlebox’s set an especially annoying variety of drunk girl made her presence known. She was drunk, constantly in motion, kinda-sorta cute in a beer goggles sort of way (I was sober at the time, so she was just massively annoying) and wearing a Mavericks hat with flashing blue LEDs on it.
Also, she kept touching me. Now, I don’t like being touched. I’ve basically gotten over this enough to not be bothered by the incidental contact one experiences at concerts. The thing is, though, if someone is touching me I find it impossible to not focus on the fact that I’m being touched. It’s distracting in every possible way. Again, I can tune it out at concerts as long as it’s just the incidental too many people in one place sort of thing.
She was grabbing my shoulders. This was very high on my do not want list. However, given that she was drunkenly over-excited and it was loud, I figured that telling her to stop wouldn’t get me too far and punching her would be counterproductive. Eventually, though, she did stop. Because the guy next to me let her up against the barrier.
At this point her friend decided to start touching me. Now, her friend was a minor improvement in that she had a Rangers hat with blinking red LEDs and, y’know, baseball. But she also decided that the small of my back made a much better resting place for her hand than my shoulder, which was just plain weird and annoying.
And so but anyway, Candlebox left and came back for an encore. At the beginning of the song I looked at Mavericks hat out of the corner of my eye and saw her starting to lift her shirt. A short while later I turned again just in time to see that she’d lifted her shirt and bra just enough to expose her right nipple.
In all fairness, it was the highest-quality nipple I’ve ever seen at a Candlebox show. Ah, hell, I’ll go so far as to say it’s the best nipple I’ve ever seen at a concert.
Why? Because I’ve never, ever seen that before. I thought it was some sort of urban legend, like getting your kidneys stolen, the chupacabra, or the female orgasm.
To be honest, I’m still not entirely convinced it’s a thing. Because, believe you me, I was basically confused by that moment. Also, I was confused by what came next.
After the show I overheard the girls (there were three in all, including one non-hatted friend) excitedly discussing their adventures. One said, “He totally saw your boobie!”
I’m assuming they were talking about the lead singer of Candlebox and not me. I’m also guessing that he didn’t. And if he did, well, he seemed to be roughly as impressed with the moment as I was. Also, if he was smart, he went and talked to the women standing on the stage side of the barrier after the show, one of whom was approximately 10x more attractive than boob girl.
Either way, it’s now the second strangest thing I’ve seen at a concert. Yes, boob girl, seeing a member of a religious order at a Better than Ezra show still trumps your nipple at a Candlebox show. Congrats.
-------------------------
Meanwhile, here’s the list of live shows I still very much want to see:
Idlewild
Flogging Molly
Our Lady Peace
Matt Nathanson
Green Day
The Fratellis
Lost Immigrants (which will be happening Friday)
And, of course, Soundgarden
Sadly, although both Green Day and Soundgarden will be at Lollapalooza this year, I can’t see traveling back to Chicago and spending the $200 or whatever for a pass. Especially since the next two worthwhile acts are Social D and Cypress Hill. I remember when Lollapalooza was actually good. I still didn’t go then, mostly because I was a giant fucking putz.
-------------------------
Also, if you look to the right you’ll see that I’ve updated my list o’ links. I’ve added a couple blogs that have me on their blogroll to the “Friends of Blog” box. And I added Michael Mock’s blog. I don’t know if I’m on a blogroll over there, but he is a friend of the blog in the most technical possible sense. I’ve also added Ken Pulliam’s “Why I De-Converted from Evangelical Christianity” to my “Blogs of Note” list, along with the always awesome “These Bastards.” “Right Wing Watch” offers a lot of links to the shenanigans of the religious right. And the Texas Freedom Network Insider is good for those who care about the school system situation in the state I now find myself residing in.
Oh, also, Zero Punctuation and Escape to the Movies. Good stuff right there. Yahtzee will tell you why every video game sucks and MovieBob will tell you why every movie is good.
Anyone who feels they should be linked should mention it. I don’t exactly know everyone who links to this here place.
-------------------------
Oh, on a final note: boob girl and her friends couldn't have been more than 24. I have no idea why someone from that age group would be so damn excited about Candlebox.
-------------------------
[1]Especially when the lead singer informed us that “Bliguts” is really about a plumbing problem and “Woodburning” is a song about an arts and crafts project that went horribly wrong, as they so often do. That’s probably only funny if you actually know the songs. So, y’know, go get you some Toad the Wet Sprocket.
[2]It included the most random thing I’ve ever seen at a concert. Big A went with me and at one point he said, “Hey, there’s a friar!” I turned around and, sure as shit, there was a tonsured dude in a robe with a rope belt standing there. Now, Quincy is a Catholic university, so it wouldn’t be entirely unexpected to see a member of a religious order. However, standing in the field house between Better than Ezra and their opening act is unexpected.
Also, I think I might have to clear up an old misunderstanding here. At the time I said, “That’s not a friar, that’s a monk.” As it turns out, I may well have been wrong, as monks live cloistered lives while friars do not. So, y’know, at a Better than Ezra show = probably not a cloistered life. At least, that’s my new theory.
Meanwhile, apparently Catholic schools love them some rock bands. When Seneca was in Dallas a couple months ago they did a show at the University of Dallas.
[3]Oddly, I have no ability to put Pearl Jam or Bad Religion on that list. I saw Bad Religion open for Pearl Jam last year at the United Center. The whole arena show thing kind of throws my scale off, as the show was objectively awesome, but comparing it to being five feet from Roger Clyne in a small venue is comparing apples to goats. And my scale is definitely calibrated in favor of smaller venues.
[4]Bear in mind, I drove to Milwaukee to see Mike Doughty last December when I found out about his four Schuba’s shows after they’d ALL sold out.
[5]I don’t generally expect to be deafened at outdoor shows…
I knew nothing of Cowboy Mouth before the show. Their live show is excellent. They actually won me over with their energy. Then, when they left the stage, I realized, “Y’know, I can’t actually think of any songs I heard just now that I’d ever want to hear again.” Crazy.
Toad the Wet Sprocket, meanwhile, has been on my list of live shows to get around to seeing ever since I discovered they’d re-formed and started touring about a week after they hit Chicago some time in, um, 2006 or 2007ish. They did not disappoint. Although a combination of a bit of rain that delayed the start of the show and Cowboy Mouth deciding to steal an extra ten minutes forced them to cut their set sort. It’s too bad, as they were really the highlight of my evening.[1]
That statement is about to sound really weird.
Candlebox actually put on a damn good show. It was, objectively speaking, a better show than Toad the Wet Sprocket’s. I kind of have a scale of live shows for major bands (with “major” being a liberal term in some cases). My ground floor is Better than Ezra. I saw them in Quincy, IL at Quincy University while I was at WIU.[2] Basically, I enjoyed the Better than Ezra show, but I got what I wanted to out of it. I’d consider seeing Better than Ezra again, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to do so. Below them, then, are any number of shitty opening acts I’ve seen over the years. Slightly above BtE, meanwhile, are the Gin Blossoms, who get the upgrade because they didn’t use a drum machine.
The second-from-the-top level, meanwhile, is occupied by the Saw Doctors and Local H. I’ve never had a bad time at those shows and always look forward to the next time I’ll see any of those bands. At the very top, lest you have any doubts, are Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. In between the Gin Blossoms and Saw Doctors and Local H is a lot of gray area.[3]
Like, I loved seeing Lucky Boys Confusion at the Double Door and Mike Doughty is great live. I originally put the Lovehammers on par with the Saw Doctors and Local H. But there needs to be a cut off. And I think the cutoff is this: how far would I drive and how many times would I go back? I’ve amply proven my desire to see RCPM and Local H over and over again and the only reason I haven’t done that with the Saw Doctors is that it’s really, really hard to get to the British Isles on a moment’s notice. I simply don’t think I’d put in quite as much effort to see the Lovehammers and Mike Doughty as I would for Local H.[4] And that’s the cut-off.
Either way, here’s the weird thing: in terms of quality, Candlebox surprised me. They did a show that was on par with Local H. The energy was just there. The loudness, surprisingly,[5] was there. But, in the end, my desire to see Candlebox again is pretty low. But there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll see Toad the Wet Sprocket again if the opportunity arises even though Toad’s show wasn’t quite as inspired. Quite simply, Toad has more songs that I like. As best I can tell that’s the delimiter.
---------------------------
Meanwhile, I took advantage of my concert expertise and was up against the barrier by the beginning of the Candlebox set. This is both a good place to be and a bad place to be. On the good, well, being in front is a positive thing. On the bad, well, everyone wants to be in front. So there’s a lot of jostling.
The over-excited drunk girl population was way higher than I would have expected. The extremely pushy, over-excited drunk girl population was also higher than in my previous experience. So on more than one occasion I ended up having some random girl pushing in to the front next to me to take pictures and dance around and be largely annoying.
Somewhere in the middle of Candlebox’s set an especially annoying variety of drunk girl made her presence known. She was drunk, constantly in motion, kinda-sorta cute in a beer goggles sort of way (I was sober at the time, so she was just massively annoying) and wearing a Mavericks hat with flashing blue LEDs on it.
Also, she kept touching me. Now, I don’t like being touched. I’ve basically gotten over this enough to not be bothered by the incidental contact one experiences at concerts. The thing is, though, if someone is touching me I find it impossible to not focus on the fact that I’m being touched. It’s distracting in every possible way. Again, I can tune it out at concerts as long as it’s just the incidental too many people in one place sort of thing.
She was grabbing my shoulders. This was very high on my do not want list. However, given that she was drunkenly over-excited and it was loud, I figured that telling her to stop wouldn’t get me too far and punching her would be counterproductive. Eventually, though, she did stop. Because the guy next to me let her up against the barrier.
At this point her friend decided to start touching me. Now, her friend was a minor improvement in that she had a Rangers hat with blinking red LEDs and, y’know, baseball. But she also decided that the small of my back made a much better resting place for her hand than my shoulder, which was just plain weird and annoying.
And so but anyway, Candlebox left and came back for an encore. At the beginning of the song I looked at Mavericks hat out of the corner of my eye and saw her starting to lift her shirt. A short while later I turned again just in time to see that she’d lifted her shirt and bra just enough to expose her right nipple.
In all fairness, it was the highest-quality nipple I’ve ever seen at a Candlebox show. Ah, hell, I’ll go so far as to say it’s the best nipple I’ve ever seen at a concert.
Why? Because I’ve never, ever seen that before. I thought it was some sort of urban legend, like getting your kidneys stolen, the chupacabra, or the female orgasm.
To be honest, I’m still not entirely convinced it’s a thing. Because, believe you me, I was basically confused by that moment. Also, I was confused by what came next.
After the show I overheard the girls (there were three in all, including one non-hatted friend) excitedly discussing their adventures. One said, “He totally saw your boobie!”
I’m assuming they were talking about the lead singer of Candlebox and not me. I’m also guessing that he didn’t. And if he did, well, he seemed to be roughly as impressed with the moment as I was. Also, if he was smart, he went and talked to the women standing on the stage side of the barrier after the show, one of whom was approximately 10x more attractive than boob girl.
Either way, it’s now the second strangest thing I’ve seen at a concert. Yes, boob girl, seeing a member of a religious order at a Better than Ezra show still trumps your nipple at a Candlebox show. Congrats.
-------------------------
Meanwhile, here’s the list of live shows I still very much want to see:
Idlewild
Flogging Molly
Our Lady Peace
Matt Nathanson
Green Day
The Fratellis
Lost Immigrants (which will be happening Friday)
And, of course, Soundgarden
Sadly, although both Green Day and Soundgarden will be at Lollapalooza this year, I can’t see traveling back to Chicago and spending the $200 or whatever for a pass. Especially since the next two worthwhile acts are Social D and Cypress Hill. I remember when Lollapalooza was actually good. I still didn’t go then, mostly because I was a giant fucking putz.
-------------------------
Also, if you look to the right you’ll see that I’ve updated my list o’ links. I’ve added a couple blogs that have me on their blogroll to the “Friends of Blog” box. And I added Michael Mock’s blog. I don’t know if I’m on a blogroll over there, but he is a friend of the blog in the most technical possible sense. I’ve also added Ken Pulliam’s “Why I De-Converted from Evangelical Christianity” to my “Blogs of Note” list, along with the always awesome “These Bastards.” “Right Wing Watch” offers a lot of links to the shenanigans of the religious right. And the Texas Freedom Network Insider is good for those who care about the school system situation in the state I now find myself residing in.
Oh, also, Zero Punctuation and Escape to the Movies. Good stuff right there. Yahtzee will tell you why every video game sucks and MovieBob will tell you why every movie is good.
Anyone who feels they should be linked should mention it. I don’t exactly know everyone who links to this here place.
-------------------------
Oh, on a final note: boob girl and her friends couldn't have been more than 24. I have no idea why someone from that age group would be so damn excited about Candlebox.
-------------------------
[1]Especially when the lead singer informed us that “Bliguts” is really about a plumbing problem and “Woodburning” is a song about an arts and crafts project that went horribly wrong, as they so often do. That’s probably only funny if you actually know the songs. So, y’know, go get you some Toad the Wet Sprocket.
[2]It included the most random thing I’ve ever seen at a concert. Big A went with me and at one point he said, “Hey, there’s a friar!” I turned around and, sure as shit, there was a tonsured dude in a robe with a rope belt standing there. Now, Quincy is a Catholic university, so it wouldn’t be entirely unexpected to see a member of a religious order. However, standing in the field house between Better than Ezra and their opening act is unexpected.
Also, I think I might have to clear up an old misunderstanding here. At the time I said, “That’s not a friar, that’s a monk.” As it turns out, I may well have been wrong, as monks live cloistered lives while friars do not. So, y’know, at a Better than Ezra show = probably not a cloistered life. At least, that’s my new theory.
Meanwhile, apparently Catholic schools love them some rock bands. When Seneca was in Dallas a couple months ago they did a show at the University of Dallas.
[3]Oddly, I have no ability to put Pearl Jam or Bad Religion on that list. I saw Bad Religion open for Pearl Jam last year at the United Center. The whole arena show thing kind of throws my scale off, as the show was objectively awesome, but comparing it to being five feet from Roger Clyne in a small venue is comparing apples to goats. And my scale is definitely calibrated in favor of smaller venues.
[4]Bear in mind, I drove to Milwaukee to see Mike Doughty last December when I found out about his four Schuba’s shows after they’d ALL sold out.
[5]I don’t generally expect to be deafened at outdoor shows…
Sunday, May 9, 2010
No AtF Today
Yeah, um, I'm not exactly sure what I did today, but it sure as hell seemed to take a long time to do it...
Friday, May 7, 2010
Random Thoughts About Stuff
First, and most importantly, I’ma be at Dallas CityArts Festival on Saturday. Specifically, I’ll be at the Time Warner Stage at noon. Because I’ll be telling a story. Maybe two. I really don’t know. But it will be a non-zero number that probably doesn’t reach three.
Apparently the festival is free but parking is $12. That’s where they get ya’.
--------------------------------
So I’ve decided to go back to church. Apparently there’s a 3:2 ratio of women to men and no real difference in sexual activity between the religious and the non-religious.
Although it seems fundamentalist men report having more sexual partners than non-religious men. Also, it was a survey of college students.
I, uh, I didn’t do a very good job of getting laid in college (or high school. Or grade school. Or last year[1]). And my atheist next-door neighbor in college got WAY more action than I did. So I’m gonna think through this one for a little while.
-------------------------------
Now that we’ve had yet another vocal anti-gay Conservative Christian outed in a hilarious manner, I’ve decided we need to create a new system to make sure everyone knows where the vocally anti-gay leaders currently are. It’s a simple numbering system:
1. Not Yet Outed
2. Offically Outed
3. “Relapse” in 5…4…3…
So say you’re reading a newspaper article. It will say something like, “Ted Haggard(3) is back in the news thanks to Dr. George Rekers(2).”
Now, the thing to be aware of is that this doesn’t necessarily apply to all Conservative Christians. Nor does it even apply to all Christians who aren’t so fond of teh gay. It’s important to note that there’s a specific correlation between vocally and publically anti-gay and being found with a guy who advertises the size of his cock on an awesomely high-class website.[2]
Also, if you’ve got a guy talking about how powerful and alluring the gay lifestyle is and that we must resist this scheme of the Devil, that guy definitely deserves a number. Because he most certainly does not know how a straight guy thinks. See, your average straight guy looks at another guy and thinks, “Hey, look, it’s another guy.” If you were to suggest to that straight guy that this other guy is about to take his pants off and start a party, that straight guy will immediately start thinking things like, “Oh, um, I think I forgot about that load of laundry that I just remembered I have to do.”
See, teh gay is only a powerfully alluring lifestyle if you happen to find people of your own gender sexually attractive. If you don’t, then you won’t be lead astray.
---------------------------------
This, really, is one of those things I genuinely don’t get. People’s idea of sexuality is just fucked up. Especially the really out-there fundamentalist religious types.
I mean, seriously. I have been basically flat-out offered sex. I’ve also had at least one really manipulative but not-quite-obvious offer that I know of. I’m also aware of a few other situations that could have fairly easily turned in to an offer (well, “fairly easily” being relative. It requires an assumption that I wouldn’t do something massively stupid, which is probably not the bet you should ever take in that situation). Apparently, as a guy, I’m supposed to be trying to stick it in anything that moves. Yet I have not done so even with offers on the table because I didn’t really want to with the person in question.
Apparently this should mean I’m not a man or something. I don’t get it.
Also, I’m guessing that has to be hard on/confusing for the woman in question. I mean, let’s say that she’s taken to heart the idea that men are irrepressible horndogs who constantly want sex. So she comes to me and says, “Hey…wanna go mess around?”
And I say, “No.” Now, I could simply be not attracted to this person. I could be attracted to her, but also see absolutely no relationship potential, and since I’m not a big fan of the one-night stand, I’m just saying, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
However, since I’m supposed to be completely unable to control my sexual urges, by saying, “No,” the message I give is potentially one of two things: “You’re hideously disgusting,” or, “I’m gay.”[3]
Unhelpful sexual stereotypes are unhelpful to everyone. There’s really no way around it.
-----------------------------
Also, last weekend's odd little foray back in to Christian music has proven to be oddly therapeutic. When I left the church I put all that stuff away with the intention of never listening to it again. But having listened to a bunch of Andrew Peterson and Kepano Green over the last few days I'm realizing that all of my reasons to not want to listen to it are basically moot. I don't get that emotional, worship music rush any more.
Meanwhile, I noticed a strange side benefit. I really like Matt Nathanson's Beneath These Fireworks. I unfortunately managed to make a nearly 100% association between that album and a certain member of the female gender.[4] I have been unable to really listen to Beneath These Fireworks because of said associations. I played it this week and realized that those emotional associations had subsided considerably.
-----------------------------
[1]For the record, and since you didn’t ask, I have had offers. They were just offers I could refuse.
[2]I really think the rentboy folks need to get on the horn with Newegg. I mean, think of the sorting possibilities. Start with height and build, then go on to important measurements. After that you can sort by activities (y’know, luggage lifting, picture hanging, nothing dirty. You’re just hiring some help. Some muscular, shirtless help. And I know I certainly felt better when my moving company sent me videos of my movers playing with themselves as part of the bid process. It really helped build that all-important trust I needed as a guy who was nervous about letting strangers pick up his shit and drive it a thousand miles…)
[3]I actually worked with a woman in college who thought I was gay for the first couple months I knew her. Ironically enough, it turned out she was a lesbian, but I’d never considered that possibility. However, I did meet her girlfriend, who was basically a sitcom stereotype of a lesbian. I totally didn’t put the two together, though.
It’s not so much that I don’t have a gaydar, it’s that I’m unconcerned about the sexual preferences of other people unless it’s someone that I would theoretically want to have sex with. I worked with a gay guy for several months before someone explicitly pointed it out to me, at which point I wasn’t at all surprised. Later on a co-worker made reference to a someone I worked with being quiet about being gay and I said, “Oh, you mean [that guy].” She said, “No, everyone knows about him. I’m talking about [other guy].” At which point I thought, “Oh, duh. That should have been pretty obvious.”
[4]If you really, really want to know, it's the most deeply autobiographical moment of this post from the story that caused me to want to launch The Repository.
Apparently the festival is free but parking is $12. That’s where they get ya’.
--------------------------------
So I’ve decided to go back to church. Apparently there’s a 3:2 ratio of women to men and no real difference in sexual activity between the religious and the non-religious.
Although it seems fundamentalist men report having more sexual partners than non-religious men. Also, it was a survey of college students.
I, uh, I didn’t do a very good job of getting laid in college (or high school. Or grade school. Or last year[1]). And my atheist next-door neighbor in college got WAY more action than I did. So I’m gonna think through this one for a little while.
-------------------------------
Now that we’ve had yet another vocal anti-gay Conservative Christian outed in a hilarious manner, I’ve decided we need to create a new system to make sure everyone knows where the vocally anti-gay leaders currently are. It’s a simple numbering system:
1. Not Yet Outed
2. Offically Outed
3. “Relapse” in 5…4…3…
So say you’re reading a newspaper article. It will say something like, “Ted Haggard(3) is back in the news thanks to Dr. George Rekers(2).”
Now, the thing to be aware of is that this doesn’t necessarily apply to all Conservative Christians. Nor does it even apply to all Christians who aren’t so fond of teh gay. It’s important to note that there’s a specific correlation between vocally and publically anti-gay and being found with a guy who advertises the size of his cock on an awesomely high-class website.[2]
Also, if you’ve got a guy talking about how powerful and alluring the gay lifestyle is and that we must resist this scheme of the Devil, that guy definitely deserves a number. Because he most certainly does not know how a straight guy thinks. See, your average straight guy looks at another guy and thinks, “Hey, look, it’s another guy.” If you were to suggest to that straight guy that this other guy is about to take his pants off and start a party, that straight guy will immediately start thinking things like, “Oh, um, I think I forgot about that load of laundry that I just remembered I have to do.”
See, teh gay is only a powerfully alluring lifestyle if you happen to find people of your own gender sexually attractive. If you don’t, then you won’t be lead astray.
---------------------------------
This, really, is one of those things I genuinely don’t get. People’s idea of sexuality is just fucked up. Especially the really out-there fundamentalist religious types.
I mean, seriously. I have been basically flat-out offered sex. I’ve also had at least one really manipulative but not-quite-obvious offer that I know of. I’m also aware of a few other situations that could have fairly easily turned in to an offer (well, “fairly easily” being relative. It requires an assumption that I wouldn’t do something massively stupid, which is probably not the bet you should ever take in that situation). Apparently, as a guy, I’m supposed to be trying to stick it in anything that moves. Yet I have not done so even with offers on the table because I didn’t really want to with the person in question.
Apparently this should mean I’m not a man or something. I don’t get it.
Also, I’m guessing that has to be hard on/confusing for the woman in question. I mean, let’s say that she’s taken to heart the idea that men are irrepressible horndogs who constantly want sex. So she comes to me and says, “Hey…wanna go mess around?”
And I say, “No.” Now, I could simply be not attracted to this person. I could be attracted to her, but also see absolutely no relationship potential, and since I’m not a big fan of the one-night stand, I’m just saying, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
However, since I’m supposed to be completely unable to control my sexual urges, by saying, “No,” the message I give is potentially one of two things: “You’re hideously disgusting,” or, “I’m gay.”[3]
Unhelpful sexual stereotypes are unhelpful to everyone. There’s really no way around it.
-----------------------------
Also, last weekend's odd little foray back in to Christian music has proven to be oddly therapeutic. When I left the church I put all that stuff away with the intention of never listening to it again. But having listened to a bunch of Andrew Peterson and Kepano Green over the last few days I'm realizing that all of my reasons to not want to listen to it are basically moot. I don't get that emotional, worship music rush any more.
Meanwhile, I noticed a strange side benefit. I really like Matt Nathanson's Beneath These Fireworks. I unfortunately managed to make a nearly 100% association between that album and a certain member of the female gender.[4] I have been unable to really listen to Beneath These Fireworks because of said associations. I played it this week and realized that those emotional associations had subsided considerably.
-----------------------------
[1]For the record, and since you didn’t ask, I have had offers. They were just offers I could refuse.
[2]I really think the rentboy folks need to get on the horn with Newegg. I mean, think of the sorting possibilities. Start with height and build, then go on to important measurements. After that you can sort by activities (y’know, luggage lifting, picture hanging, nothing dirty. You’re just hiring some help. Some muscular, shirtless help. And I know I certainly felt better when my moving company sent me videos of my movers playing with themselves as part of the bid process. It really helped build that all-important trust I needed as a guy who was nervous about letting strangers pick up his shit and drive it a thousand miles…)
[3]I actually worked with a woman in college who thought I was gay for the first couple months I knew her. Ironically enough, it turned out she was a lesbian, but I’d never considered that possibility. However, I did meet her girlfriend, who was basically a sitcom stereotype of a lesbian. I totally didn’t put the two together, though.
It’s not so much that I don’t have a gaydar, it’s that I’m unconcerned about the sexual preferences of other people unless it’s someone that I would theoretically want to have sex with. I worked with a gay guy for several months before someone explicitly pointed it out to me, at which point I wasn’t at all surprised. Later on a co-worker made reference to a someone I worked with being quiet about being gay and I said, “Oh, you mean [that guy].” She said, “No, everyone knows about him. I’m talking about [other guy].” At which point I thought, “Oh, duh. That should have been pretty obvious.”
[4]If you really, really want to know, it's the most deeply autobiographical moment of this post from the story that caused me to want to launch The Repository.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
There Has Got to Be a Better Name for this...
I give you the KFC Double Down:
It's a sandwich, but instead of bread it's got two pieces of fried chicken.
They should have called it the Double Coronary. Or the Double Bypass.
Either way, I'm guessing that someone at KFC saw this:
and didn't realize we weren't supposed to take it seriously.
Welcome to America, kiddos. This is why the rest of the world hates us, part 12,657.
It's a sandwich, but instead of bread it's got two pieces of fried chicken.
They should have called it the Double Coronary. Or the Double Bypass.
Either way, I'm guessing that someone at KFC saw this:
and didn't realize we weren't supposed to take it seriously.
Welcome to America, kiddos. This is why the rest of the world hates us, part 12,657.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Let's Play a Game
It's not called "Global Thermonuclear War." It's called, "Write a Caption, Things Geds has Seen in Texas Edition."
With this picture you can also play the, "What was Geds listening to?" and the, "Which options packages did Geds skip?" games.
It's a magical mystery tour...
Yeah. This.
Okay, this one is technically in Oklahoma...
With this picture you can also play the, "What was Geds listening to?" and the, "Which options packages did Geds skip?" games.
It's a magical mystery tour...
Yeah. This.
Okay, this one is technically in Oklahoma...
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Mike Doughty Wins the Internet
From Facebook:
Mike Doughty has become the first artist to officially endorse Fender's Hello Kitty line of guitars, which many of you have seen Mike and Scrap play at Question Jar Show gigs in the last year. A longtime Hello Kitty fan, Mike will play the custom Stratocaster-style instruments at all future shows and on his future albums. More on the endorsement deal here: http://www.mikedoughty.com/blog/archives/000797.html
Also, the blog-based announcement is priceless. Priceless, I say. Especially this bit:
EDIT: Hilariously enough, this post is the top hit for a Topeka Search of "Mike Doughty Hello Kitty."
Mike Doughty has become the first artist to officially endorse Fender's Hello Kitty line of guitars, which many of you have seen Mike and Scrap play at Question Jar Show gigs in the last year. A longtime Hello Kitty fan, Mike will play the custom Stratocaster-style instruments at all future shows and on his future albums. More on the endorsement deal here: http://www.mikedoughty.com/blog/archives/000797.html
Also, the blog-based announcement is priceless. Priceless, I say. Especially this bit:
As part of the endorsement deal, all future pressings of Mike Doughty's latest album, "Sad Man, Happy Man," will include a slightly altered tracklist: "(I Keep On) Rising Up" will be renamed "(I Keep On) Rising Up (The Hello Kitty Song)."
EDIT: Hilariously enough, this post is the top hit for a Topeka Search of "Mike Doughty Hello Kitty."
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Where You Goin' After?
Just in case anyone needs an excuse to drink on a Thursday, I know where I'm gonna be...
Also, apropos of nothing, it occurred to me this morning that Gen X is turning in to their parents (with the caveat that, depending on where you look, I'm either at the trailing end of Gen X or the front end of Gen Y (aka The Millennials, which is just effin' stupid).
These days you have a lot of aging Baby Boomers spending unseemly amounts of money to see Mick Jagger stagger around the stage with the Stones. The Super Bowl has, of late, been an aging rocker reunion tour (Tom Petty, The Who, Springsteen, etc.).
But these days we have 30- and 40-something Gen Xers going off to see U2 and Pearl Jam. My big news for last month was the Soundgarden reunion.
So does that mean that twenty years from now I'm going to be prepped to see a 65 year-old Eddie Vedder do an off-key rendition of "Given to Fly" at the halftime show of the Super Bowl while we all pretend Mike McCready can still thrash? Will I be lining up to spend $1000 for front-row tickets for the latest Soundgarden reunion tour?
History says yes. Yes I probably will.
And there's a reasonably good chance the Roger Clyne will still be running around with the latest incarnation of the Peacemakers, playing shitty bars and drinking too much tequila. I'll be there for that, too.
Salud!
Also, apropos of nothing, it occurred to me this morning that Gen X is turning in to their parents (with the caveat that, depending on where you look, I'm either at the trailing end of Gen X or the front end of Gen Y (aka The Millennials, which is just effin' stupid).
These days you have a lot of aging Baby Boomers spending unseemly amounts of money to see Mick Jagger stagger around the stage with the Stones. The Super Bowl has, of late, been an aging rocker reunion tour (Tom Petty, The Who, Springsteen, etc.).
But these days we have 30- and 40-something Gen Xers going off to see U2 and Pearl Jam. My big news for last month was the Soundgarden reunion.
So does that mean that twenty years from now I'm going to be prepped to see a 65 year-old Eddie Vedder do an off-key rendition of "Given to Fly" at the halftime show of the Super Bowl while we all pretend Mike McCready can still thrash? Will I be lining up to spend $1000 for front-row tickets for the latest Soundgarden reunion tour?
History says yes. Yes I probably will.
And there's a reasonably good chance the Roger Clyne will still be running around with the latest incarnation of the Peacemakers, playing shitty bars and drinking too much tequila. I'll be there for that, too.
Salud!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Irish Times
So I think I felt at home in Dallas for the first time tonight. Sadly, that’s probably due at least 80-85% to the early December-in-Chicago-esque snowstorm I drove home through. Wind, blowing snow, 33 degree weather, and concrete just too warm for it to stick. Yeah, that’s December in Chicago in a nutshell.
But there was slightly more than that. See, Big A and I ended up deciding to go visit the Allen branch of Trinity Hall. And I must say, if that’s the recently-opened-in-a-now-defunct-Bennigan’s branch of Trinity Hall, I’m far more prepped for next week’s time at the Dallas branch than I was before. For one thing, I’m definitely planning on showing up somewhere around 6:30 or 7 to grab some food. So, y’know, take that in to account.
It’s interesting, too. I was talking to someone or other earlier this week about Irish pubs and the conversation went to the idea that Irish pubs in America are pretty much the same as Irish pubs in Ireland, just with different accents. I pointed out that your average Irish pub in America is probably owned by an Irish ex-pat, so it’s not entirely surprising.
Of course, the best thing about the Irish pub is the legendary Irish hospitality. Our waiter, Scott, completely lived up to that expectation. Also, when I asked for a Balvenie 15 Yr the very first words out of his mouth were, “You want that neat, right?” Moreover, when I asked for a Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA he asked if I’d ever had the Burton Baton, then explained why I’d be interested in it. Now, I’m sure this is a sticky issue, where it’s entirely possible that someone who asks for Beer X wants Beer X and wants you to shut up about Beer Y, even if it’s different and interesting and worthwhile. But, then again, I suppose that the sort of person who is asking for Dogfish Head (especially since we’d already been back and forth. I’d asked for Moose Drool. It wasn’t in yet. So I’d tried for Samuel Smith’s Nut Brown. It wasn’t around, either. So I’d switched to Belhaven St. Andrews. I’d assume that indicates that I have at least some concept of beer and that means that I’m open to suggestions of beers I might not have sampled yet) isn’t the sort of person who just wants Beer X. Or, at the very least, by the time you’re drinking Dogfish Head you’re probably more than willing to at least listen to advice on other beer options with good humor and appreciation. And Scott had already built up plenty of goodwill, anyway.
But, either way, the point is that the Allen incarnation of Trinity Hall was pretty sweet. It’s not really Brixie’s South by any stretch of the imagination. I’d say it’s more like Irish Times South. Which is still pretty damn cool. See, Irish Times is this Irish pub in downtown Brookfield. And the last time Seneca was on this side of the pond I met them at Brixie’s the first time, then I saw them the next night at Irish Times, where I sat and had a fine meal with them before their show. I saw them again at Irish Times a couple months later.
Then, the night before they flew back to Ireland, I had a couple more beers with them at Irish Times. Which was fantastic, even though it was a Monday night, I’d just seen Pearl Jam at the United Center, and I have this bad habit of working on Tuesday.
Either way, I have high hopes for the original Trinity Hall. Hopefully it’s even more Irish Times-esque.
With a more adventurous menu and some storytelling I might even go so far as to say it’s Celtic Knot-esque. And there's really no better Irish pub in the world than the Celtic Knot. Sadly, I can’t really help with the menu, but I could offer a few suggestions for the storytelling part…
But there was slightly more than that. See, Big A and I ended up deciding to go visit the Allen branch of Trinity Hall. And I must say, if that’s the recently-opened-in-a-now-defunct-Bennigan’s branch of Trinity Hall, I’m far more prepped for next week’s time at the Dallas branch than I was before. For one thing, I’m definitely planning on showing up somewhere around 6:30 or 7 to grab some food. So, y’know, take that in to account.
It’s interesting, too. I was talking to someone or other earlier this week about Irish pubs and the conversation went to the idea that Irish pubs in America are pretty much the same as Irish pubs in Ireland, just with different accents. I pointed out that your average Irish pub in America is probably owned by an Irish ex-pat, so it’s not entirely surprising.
Of course, the best thing about the Irish pub is the legendary Irish hospitality. Our waiter, Scott, completely lived up to that expectation. Also, when I asked for a Balvenie 15 Yr the very first words out of his mouth were, “You want that neat, right?” Moreover, when I asked for a Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA he asked if I’d ever had the Burton Baton, then explained why I’d be interested in it. Now, I’m sure this is a sticky issue, where it’s entirely possible that someone who asks for Beer X wants Beer X and wants you to shut up about Beer Y, even if it’s different and interesting and worthwhile. But, then again, I suppose that the sort of person who is asking for Dogfish Head (especially since we’d already been back and forth. I’d asked for Moose Drool. It wasn’t in yet. So I’d tried for Samuel Smith’s Nut Brown. It wasn’t around, either. So I’d switched to Belhaven St. Andrews. I’d assume that indicates that I have at least some concept of beer and that means that I’m open to suggestions of beers I might not have sampled yet) isn’t the sort of person who just wants Beer X. Or, at the very least, by the time you’re drinking Dogfish Head you’re probably more than willing to at least listen to advice on other beer options with good humor and appreciation. And Scott had already built up plenty of goodwill, anyway.
But, either way, the point is that the Allen incarnation of Trinity Hall was pretty sweet. It’s not really Brixie’s South by any stretch of the imagination. I’d say it’s more like Irish Times South. Which is still pretty damn cool. See, Irish Times is this Irish pub in downtown Brookfield. And the last time Seneca was on this side of the pond I met them at Brixie’s the first time, then I saw them the next night at Irish Times, where I sat and had a fine meal with them before their show. I saw them again at Irish Times a couple months later.
Then, the night before they flew back to Ireland, I had a couple more beers with them at Irish Times. Which was fantastic, even though it was a Monday night, I’d just seen Pearl Jam at the United Center, and I have this bad habit of working on Tuesday.
Either way, I have high hopes for the original Trinity Hall. Hopefully it’s even more Irish Times-esque.
With a more adventurous menu and some storytelling I might even go so far as to say it’s Celtic Knot-esque. And there's really no better Irish pub in the world than the Celtic Knot. Sadly, I can’t really help with the menu, but I could offer a few suggestions for the storytelling part…
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