I'm looking at it as the first line of demarcation in the age war. I had hoped that the day wouldn't come where I no longer understood the music that the kids were listening to, I didn’t want to start complaining about how the stores and restaurants are just too darn cold, I want to fight against he music being too loud.
But MySpace... I don't get it, I don't like it and it makes me feel a bit like a crotchety old man.
Honestly, I've already had the 'I don't get your music moment', I've been having them since I was about 13 actually. In seventh grade gym class, I would be doing my hurdler's stretches next to Travis, a mullet headed and sleepy lidded young man that will forever serve as my mental image of a stoner metal head, as he who would rave about the musical stylings of Motley Crue and their breakthrough album Shout At The Devil. I would politely smile and nod, hoping that he wouldn't decide to punch me in the arm or something, but inside I was screaming, "you cannot be serious."
I have continued to have disdain for what a lot of people listen to through the years. I'm unapologetically snobbish about music - while maintaining that I listen to some crap as well. But this has never been a generational thing, something where the style of music has shifted beyond my sensibilities, it's more that it bugs me that people will listen to whatever crap the promotional directors or reality television shows feed to them without even giving any thought to it.
But again, this MySpace thing... I understand how to use it, I have enough computer savvy to get that, I just get more annoyance out of it than joy. I only got on because Kelly Bean wouldn't stop bugging me about it, and now I honestly do feel like that old guy in chest high pants and a sweater vest yelling about how in my day people just emailed each other. I don't care about how many friends I have, I don't care about my profile, I don't care for high school acquaintances I haven't seen in 15 years searching me out.
I guess what I'm saying, good people, is that I give up. I had a spark burning in the back of my mind that one day I would understand what makes the other people stare at MySpace for what seems like an inappropriate amount of time, but now I must turn my back on it. I must admit that it wasn't falling out of my twenties, it wasn't the longer hangovers, it wasn't the jokes from younger friends, it wasn't having a child, it wasn't throwing out my back and then slipping and falling flat on my ass on a frozen road that made me feel old, it was MySpace.
Side Note: Today, we will be getting a new member to the world. Welcome Maxine, you've been blessed with an awesome mom. Enjoy the world, it's a blast.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
This One's For The Balcony, And This One's For The Floor
Is it just me? I would like a return to all out, gladiator style spectacles. I want a large open air venue, packed with a drunken, screaming audience so done up on their own corpulence that it’s barely possible to make out understandable words.
I want an all out battle royal between Tom Sizemore and Lindsay Lohan. I'm talking tridents and nets here people. I want to see Lindsay scurry around in some pounded brass ringlets and Tom stomp his way to either a dagger in the throat or a coronary. When the carnage has been cleared on that one, I want to see Britney battling bears.
I think that the battles should probably be scored by the great Danny Elfman, the man's got a way with percussion and choir, but at some point in the festivities I want a battle of the bands between Def Leppard and the members of Great White that have not been incinerated. Two stages set up, Def Leppard plays a song, say "Photograph", and then Great White plays "Once Bitten, Twice Shy". Def Leppard plays "Pour Some Sugar On Me", Great White once again plays "Once Bitten, Twice Shy". When the crowd, drunk on Zima and Slammin Strawberry Kiwi Kool Aid, have finally heard enough "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" (which honestly should have been partway through verse number two on the first go 'round), they give the screaming signal and the bands throw down their instruments and begin throwing down with fists. Fists and pen knives...
Then comes the chariot races with Paris versus Nicole. The winner gets to trudge over to the crumpled chariot of the fallen and decapitate the scrawny bitch that didn't win.
I think that the whole thing should end with something poignant and moving, something to calm the crowd down. I think that the entire collection of American Idol winners should come out and sing a song for the fallen; perhaps "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me" by Elton John or Motley Crue's "Girls, Girls, Girls".
It's probably just me.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "In The Colosseum" by Tom Waits. Duh...
I want an all out battle royal between Tom Sizemore and Lindsay Lohan. I'm talking tridents and nets here people. I want to see Lindsay scurry around in some pounded brass ringlets and Tom stomp his way to either a dagger in the throat or a coronary. When the carnage has been cleared on that one, I want to see Britney battling bears.
I think that the battles should probably be scored by the great Danny Elfman, the man's got a way with percussion and choir, but at some point in the festivities I want a battle of the bands between Def Leppard and the members of Great White that have not been incinerated. Two stages set up, Def Leppard plays a song, say "Photograph", and then Great White plays "Once Bitten, Twice Shy". Def Leppard plays "Pour Some Sugar On Me", Great White once again plays "Once Bitten, Twice Shy". When the crowd, drunk on Zima and Slammin Strawberry Kiwi Kool Aid, have finally heard enough "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" (which honestly should have been partway through verse number two on the first go 'round), they give the screaming signal and the bands throw down their instruments and begin throwing down with fists. Fists and pen knives...
Then comes the chariot races with Paris versus Nicole. The winner gets to trudge over to the crumpled chariot of the fallen and decapitate the scrawny bitch that didn't win.
I think that the whole thing should end with something poignant and moving, something to calm the crowd down. I think that the entire collection of American Idol winners should come out and sing a song for the fallen; perhaps "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me" by Elton John or Motley Crue's "Girls, Girls, Girls".
It's probably just me.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "In The Colosseum" by Tom Waits. Duh...
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Small Magic
I know that you have no way of knowing it, but in that moment when you go from shrieking to quiet contemplation, watching my fingers move around guitar strings, my mind gets a little lost in that magic trick.
And a little further on in the trick, when you smile at my hands and then look up and smile at me I get a little overwhelmed at the thought of wanting to hold onto that small smile so tight. Can I keep it when the world teaches you that being dispassionate and removed is cool?
I'm feeling all of these possibilities running through the lines, I'm feeling great things coming, I'm all enamored of those little things today, thankful for the small magic in life.
I'm thankful for dinners and lunches with friends, for Sunday afternoon and late May rainstorms that make all of that pulsing green outside that much more vibrant, for sunny day hikes through the city and the things that make a baby laugh. I'm thankful for the love of friends that you sometimes wonder what it is that you've done to deserve it. I'm thankful for sudden bouts of dancing in the kitchen, for The Band's second album The Band, for evenings when the baby goes down easy, for The Simpson’s, for laying on the couch with my lady friend even if it's just for a couple of minutes.
Can I get a hell yeah?
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Creature Song" from the album Ghana by the Mountain Goats
And a little further on in the trick, when you smile at my hands and then look up and smile at me I get a little overwhelmed at the thought of wanting to hold onto that small smile so tight. Can I keep it when the world teaches you that being dispassionate and removed is cool?
I'm feeling all of these possibilities running through the lines, I'm feeling great things coming, I'm all enamored of those little things today, thankful for the small magic in life.
I'm thankful for dinners and lunches with friends, for Sunday afternoon and late May rainstorms that make all of that pulsing green outside that much more vibrant, for sunny day hikes through the city and the things that make a baby laugh. I'm thankful for the love of friends that you sometimes wonder what it is that you've done to deserve it. I'm thankful for sudden bouts of dancing in the kitchen, for The Band's second album The Band, for evenings when the baby goes down easy, for The Simpson’s, for laying on the couch with my lady friend even if it's just for a couple of minutes.
Can I get a hell yeah?
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Creature Song" from the album Ghana by the Mountain Goats
Friday, May 25, 2007
More Beer With Fear
Thanks to the good people of Coppertone, I have learned that there are actually 2 kinds of UV rays that the sun is sending down to kill us. I for one certainly appreciate that they are not only willing to share the findings of the team of scientists that they have working around the clock in sterile labs simply to find more ways to make our lives more pleasant, but also creating products that will help defeat our oppressor, The Sun.
Apparently, there are UVA and UVB rays. UVA rays are the ones that age us prematurely, and it's easy to remember that that's the ray as "A" can stand for aging. UVB rays are the ones that burn, and again the ray comes with its own handy mnemonic device. And before y'all start to panic out there, it's okay, Coppertone has products that block both of these rays so you can go back to your jet skiing safe from harm - drunken drowning aside.
And to think, just scant few years ago, Coppertone was busy putting scented baby oil into its containers so that scantily clad vacationers could pull as many of the sun's harmful rays into their skin as possible. The irony engine rumbles on.
Yes, I'm sure that too much sun will probably do terrible things to you, that shit burns. But we're probably far more likely to earn cancer through the chemicals we spout into the air freshening the smell of our homes or by refusing to get out of our cars and walking our asses around when it's possible. Cancer is probably far more likely through polluted food through polluted soil, polluted water from power boats and jet skis...
I know it's not a new subject, that of corporations pushing our buying buttons by scaring us, of the government (which thanks to lobbyists and campaign donors is still corporations) bullying us into decisions through fear, but I feel it's a good one to be reminded of from time to time.
Cancer, identity theft, salmonella, toxic mold, terrorists, teeth not their whitest, teeth not their straightest, vague discomfort that someone is bound to have a pill for, secondhand smoke, dirty bombs, loose borders, shoddy machinery, you will probably die alone and unloved because of the clothes you wear...
I'm unclear myself of what my point is other than that I have enough of my own problems to keep me awake at night so that worrying over whether or not I've purchased the right product that I don't really need to begin with is the last fucking thing I need to worry about. I guess too that it dawned on me last night that I'm getting closer to the middle of the average lifespan and that when I look back over the years already spent, it's not near long enough; I would like to spend the rest of them looking up with a smile in my eyes and not worryingly over my shoulder.
Apparently, there are UVA and UVB rays. UVA rays are the ones that age us prematurely, and it's easy to remember that that's the ray as "A" can stand for aging. UVB rays are the ones that burn, and again the ray comes with its own handy mnemonic device. And before y'all start to panic out there, it's okay, Coppertone has products that block both of these rays so you can go back to your jet skiing safe from harm - drunken drowning aside.
And to think, just scant few years ago, Coppertone was busy putting scented baby oil into its containers so that scantily clad vacationers could pull as many of the sun's harmful rays into their skin as possible. The irony engine rumbles on.
Yes, I'm sure that too much sun will probably do terrible things to you, that shit burns. But we're probably far more likely to earn cancer through the chemicals we spout into the air freshening the smell of our homes or by refusing to get out of our cars and walking our asses around when it's possible. Cancer is probably far more likely through polluted food through polluted soil, polluted water from power boats and jet skis...
I know it's not a new subject, that of corporations pushing our buying buttons by scaring us, of the government (which thanks to lobbyists and campaign donors is still corporations) bullying us into decisions through fear, but I feel it's a good one to be reminded of from time to time.
Cancer, identity theft, salmonella, toxic mold, terrorists, teeth not their whitest, teeth not their straightest, vague discomfort that someone is bound to have a pill for, secondhand smoke, dirty bombs, loose borders, shoddy machinery, you will probably die alone and unloved because of the clothes you wear...
I'm unclear myself of what my point is other than that I have enough of my own problems to keep me awake at night so that worrying over whether or not I've purchased the right product that I don't really need to begin with is the last fucking thing I need to worry about. I guess too that it dawned on me last night that I'm getting closer to the middle of the average lifespan and that when I look back over the years already spent, it's not near long enough; I would like to spend the rest of them looking up with a smile in my eyes and not worryingly over my shoulder.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Boy Of Summer
I'm not sure where the local news programs get their weather people, but apparently it's from an over-excitable part of the country, from a college with a serious coke problem. Pick a channel, it don't matter, and the Seattle weather person will practically explode in a fury of sensible suited, orthodontically corrected, cement coiffed shrapnel telling you what the sky's gonna let loose on you today.
And when the weather gets like it is today, clear and sunny in all its pre-summer glory, the weather folks get all a' tremble, their eyes rolling back as they get towards the five day forecast, loads shot on the green screen behind them.
But alas, weather guy 'gasms are not the point here, the point is that when the weather gets to be all clear and warm up here I cannot help but think back to this time of year when I was a child. There are two specific days that always come to mind, the first a late May day in fifth grade. The sky was a spotless pale blue and the fold out, half windows in the classroom were opened in opposition to the stuffiness. I could smell the grass that had just been cut out on the playground.
I distinctly remember this precise moment of stillness where I understood that for the rest of my days, this day would be my example of late spring/early summer. A strange thought for an 11 year old to have, for sure, but it was there nonetheless. It's as if the me right now, in typing the words here at my work desk, somehow invaded the space/time continuum and put the thoughts in my own head so many years ago. I remember the feeling of youth, the strange power involved in that, and the overwhelming love, like the baby snake unwittingly pushing out too much poison, which coursed through me for the girl that had stopped my heart when I first met her in second grade.
All of it's wrapped up in a shiny ball of memory and definition.
The other day occurred a year later towards our last day of sixth grade. We had a skate day for the sixth graders at the Skate King, and then Chris had a party at his house for our class after that. I had held hands with the above mentioned girl at the Skate King so I was feeling pretty fly, pretty bad ass if you will. I remember sitting on the deck at Chris' place, the coconut smell of tanning oil being put on the arms of some of the young ladies nearby, again freshly cut grass, again an unmarked sky, and again that strange moment of stillness where the volume gets turned down on the rest of the world and I can barely breathe. I remember thinking that everything changes after this, that all of us were rushing headlong into adulthood and tossing our innocence behind us. I wanted to stop everything for just a moment and hold onto the world I was about to let go of. I wanted to tell Steve that Kristin was not only uninterested, but was not ready for a boyfriend. I wanted to grab Chris and make him promise me that we would be friends forever. I wanted to hold the girls hand again, maybe even embrace for a lingering moment.
But the moment ended and I went on drinking Capri Sun and acting like the foolish 12 year old that I was.
So, while fall is my main man season, the one that really does it for me, with spring running a close second, there's something about spring's broad jump into summer that reminds me for a scant moment of that stomach churning excitement of being a kid again.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Up On Cripple Creek" by The Band. This beats the living hell out of Gin Blossom's "Hey Jealousy" that's been in there for the past two days.
Crap, "Hey Jealousy" is back...
And when the weather gets like it is today, clear and sunny in all its pre-summer glory, the weather folks get all a' tremble, their eyes rolling back as they get towards the five day forecast, loads shot on the green screen behind them.
But alas, weather guy 'gasms are not the point here, the point is that when the weather gets to be all clear and warm up here I cannot help but think back to this time of year when I was a child. There are two specific days that always come to mind, the first a late May day in fifth grade. The sky was a spotless pale blue and the fold out, half windows in the classroom were opened in opposition to the stuffiness. I could smell the grass that had just been cut out on the playground.
I distinctly remember this precise moment of stillness where I understood that for the rest of my days, this day would be my example of late spring/early summer. A strange thought for an 11 year old to have, for sure, but it was there nonetheless. It's as if the me right now, in typing the words here at my work desk, somehow invaded the space/time continuum and put the thoughts in my own head so many years ago. I remember the feeling of youth, the strange power involved in that, and the overwhelming love, like the baby snake unwittingly pushing out too much poison, which coursed through me for the girl that had stopped my heart when I first met her in second grade.
All of it's wrapped up in a shiny ball of memory and definition.
The other day occurred a year later towards our last day of sixth grade. We had a skate day for the sixth graders at the Skate King, and then Chris had a party at his house for our class after that. I had held hands with the above mentioned girl at the Skate King so I was feeling pretty fly, pretty bad ass if you will. I remember sitting on the deck at Chris' place, the coconut smell of tanning oil being put on the arms of some of the young ladies nearby, again freshly cut grass, again an unmarked sky, and again that strange moment of stillness where the volume gets turned down on the rest of the world and I can barely breathe. I remember thinking that everything changes after this, that all of us were rushing headlong into adulthood and tossing our innocence behind us. I wanted to stop everything for just a moment and hold onto the world I was about to let go of. I wanted to tell Steve that Kristin was not only uninterested, but was not ready for a boyfriend. I wanted to grab Chris and make him promise me that we would be friends forever. I wanted to hold the girls hand again, maybe even embrace for a lingering moment.
But the moment ended and I went on drinking Capri Sun and acting like the foolish 12 year old that I was.
So, while fall is my main man season, the one that really does it for me, with spring running a close second, there's something about spring's broad jump into summer that reminds me for a scant moment of that stomach churning excitement of being a kid again.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Up On Cripple Creek" by The Band. This beats the living hell out of Gin Blossom's "Hey Jealousy" that's been in there for the past two days.
Crap, "Hey Jealousy" is back...
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
This One Is For The Bronze
This one is for Greta who shot a charge into me when we first spoke on the phone, which managed to stick around and multiply whenever she is in the vicinity. It's for the crazy dance and the morning song and the fact that she wears EVERYTHING on her sleeve, even when it's not so easy to do so.
This one is for Chris, one of the brightest, absolute drop down funny, and kindest men I will ever have the joy of sharing life with. He's like the best sort of drug, he can calm me, he can excite me, he can put things into a perspective that wouldn't have occurred to me. I love him fiercely and trust him with my life.
This one is for Bif, for so many of those everyday reasons like being loving and kind and for being an amazing mother and friend, but this one is mostly for the laugh. You don't go to the laughter to fill an empty space, or to diffuse an uncomfortable situation, you go to laughter 'cause it's the first thing that occurs to you to go to, and it makes me feel like I'm floating. But this one is also because your smell, and the way you feel, the sound of your voice is like "home"; a word with so many malleable word definitions, but very definite emotional ones.
This one is for a late night drive, a bottle of Highland Park, and White Russians in an all night bowling alley just outside of Reno. This one is for one of the worst hotel rooms I've ever spent three hours in, 2 for 1 coupons and again that Highland Park.
This one is for adventures made into everyday occurrences and everyday occurrences turned into adventures. This one is for beer and garlic fries. This one is for the agony and the ecstasy and the calm moments of contentment and the fights in hot and dirty foreign cities and the sheer power of love. This one is for the whole ball of wax kids.
Till the wheels come off...
This one is for Chris, one of the brightest, absolute drop down funny, and kindest men I will ever have the joy of sharing life with. He's like the best sort of drug, he can calm me, he can excite me, he can put things into a perspective that wouldn't have occurred to me. I love him fiercely and trust him with my life.
This one is for Bif, for so many of those everyday reasons like being loving and kind and for being an amazing mother and friend, but this one is mostly for the laugh. You don't go to the laughter to fill an empty space, or to diffuse an uncomfortable situation, you go to laughter 'cause it's the first thing that occurs to you to go to, and it makes me feel like I'm floating. But this one is also because your smell, and the way you feel, the sound of your voice is like "home"; a word with so many malleable word definitions, but very definite emotional ones.
This one is for a late night drive, a bottle of Highland Park, and White Russians in an all night bowling alley just outside of Reno. This one is for one of the worst hotel rooms I've ever spent three hours in, 2 for 1 coupons and again that Highland Park.
This one is for adventures made into everyday occurrences and everyday occurrences turned into adventures. This one is for beer and garlic fries. This one is for the agony and the ecstasy and the calm moments of contentment and the fights in hot and dirty foreign cities and the sheer power of love. This one is for the whole ball of wax kids.
Till the wheels come off...
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Now I Am The One Who Is It
I'm not sure I agree with this, but Mandy tagged me with the task of putting 7 random facts about myself on the bloggy today. But as I was already struggling with something to write about today, I will look at it as a mixed blessing.
1) The first movie that I ever saw was Bambi. I remember being really tickled by the skunk being mistakenly called Flower, and being crushed by the death of Bambi's mom. Oops, shoulda put a spoiler alert there... I remember being confused by the Bambi with antlers at the end and thinking that it was Bambi's deadbeat dad. Bambi bores the piss out of me now, but Jungle Book still rocks it.
2) Nikki 2 K's just handed me a sponge animal in a pill caplet without knowing that I freaking love these things. Once, solely to entertain kc!, I hatched a sponge dinosaur in my mouth. I repeated the trick for Nikki today.
3) The idea that Tylenol comes with laser drilled holes in their caplets to apparently let the medicine out better bothers me for some reason. It seems made up, it seems unnecessary, and it seems like a major waste of lasers.
4) When, in 7th grade, Cherity used Brenda to spread the news to me that she wanted to break up, I acted like it was no big deal, but it in fact broke my twelve year old heart. It also began my lifelong quest to make Brenda pay for the smug smile she had on her face when she approached me in the cafeteria. I'm getting closer Brenda! Do you hear me? Did I actually just write my plan down?
5) In the summer of 1984, my brother, my cousins and I snuck under the porch that my grandfather was building onto their house and each wrote the name of the person we were in love with at the time. The spooky thing is, we all ended up marrying the person whom we had written about; and mine was Abe Vigoda. The last sentence was a lie, none of us ended up with who we were in love with 23 years ago.
6) When I was a kid, I loved the movie Six Pack with Kenny Rogers, the chick from "Silver Spoons", and a bunch of child actors. I'm sure it's awful, but don't sully the memories.
7) When I was a wee baby, I almost drowned when a deck chair behaved like a catapult and threw your shrieking narrator head first into the drink. Thinking quickly, Grandpa leapt off the deck and fished me out. I was apparently smiling as if the whole thing were a game. Mom had spent the months before teaching me to hold my breath in a swimming pool much like this.
I am not going to tag anyone further, I'm taking my ball and going home.
1) The first movie that I ever saw was Bambi. I remember being really tickled by the skunk being mistakenly called Flower, and being crushed by the death of Bambi's mom. Oops, shoulda put a spoiler alert there... I remember being confused by the Bambi with antlers at the end and thinking that it was Bambi's deadbeat dad. Bambi bores the piss out of me now, but Jungle Book still rocks it.
2) Nikki 2 K's just handed me a sponge animal in a pill caplet without knowing that I freaking love these things. Once, solely to entertain kc!, I hatched a sponge dinosaur in my mouth. I repeated the trick for Nikki today.
3) The idea that Tylenol comes with laser drilled holes in their caplets to apparently let the medicine out better bothers me for some reason. It seems made up, it seems unnecessary, and it seems like a major waste of lasers.
4) When, in 7th grade, Cherity used Brenda to spread the news to me that she wanted to break up, I acted like it was no big deal, but it in fact broke my twelve year old heart. It also began my lifelong quest to make Brenda pay for the smug smile she had on her face when she approached me in the cafeteria. I'm getting closer Brenda! Do you hear me? Did I actually just write my plan down?
5) In the summer of 1984, my brother, my cousins and I snuck under the porch that my grandfather was building onto their house and each wrote the name of the person we were in love with at the time. The spooky thing is, we all ended up marrying the person whom we had written about; and mine was Abe Vigoda. The last sentence was a lie, none of us ended up with who we were in love with 23 years ago.
6) When I was a kid, I loved the movie Six Pack with Kenny Rogers, the chick from "Silver Spoons", and a bunch of child actors. I'm sure it's awful, but don't sully the memories.
7) When I was a wee baby, I almost drowned when a deck chair behaved like a catapult and threw your shrieking narrator head first into the drink. Thinking quickly, Grandpa leapt off the deck and fished me out. I was apparently smiling as if the whole thing were a game. Mom had spent the months before teaching me to hold my breath in a swimming pool much like this.
I am not going to tag anyone further, I'm taking my ball and going home.
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