Shorthand for Nothing

In the spirit of memorials, I’d like to take a moment to look back fondly at my first car, the flying brick of death. It was a 1985 turbo diesel Volvo station wagon (740 GLE), grey, with a penchant for clouds of black smoke and not being able to accelerate at all. In sum, it was the best car to ever life, and traveled with me through many dangers, stored all of my stuff when I moved out the first time, and served as a worthy accomplice in crimes and follies.

It was a dark day in 2006 when finally the brick of death flew no more; it rested bleakly in front of my father’s house for a long time, until at last it was taken away in the dead of night to its final resting place. I don’t know where you are, flying brick of death, but your dark clouds are missed. I hope your journey to the afterlife was a pleasant one.

One Response »

Yesterday my friend told me that Bound Stems, a recent favorite group of mine, is apparently breaking up. No details as of yet, but I’d heard rumblings several months before so it somehow didn’t come as a shock–but it is very sad news.

Bound Stems is probably not the typical band I’m into. Though the lyrics are beautiful and often clever, it is not lyrically driven music–it is, as their myspace profile declares, “pretty/complex/music,” math rock, with complex rhythms and layered instrumentations that combine to make up music that is catchy in the best possible way, subtle, intricate, fun.

And at a first listen I enjoyed a few tracks but didn’t quite get into it, because on a first listen it’s the lyrics that grab me, and the lyrics are part of this densely layered wall of beautiful sound, woven seamlessly into the rest of it.

Perhaps to get a sense of how different this is for me: despite now being my third most-played band on my last.fm profile, I only know two or three songs’ lyrics by heart. The rest of the top four on there (Harvey Danger, The Decemberists, The Long Winters), I know most of the songs that I have, with only two or three exceptions. This is not to say the lyrics are anything less than masterful. But they are of a different sort than I’m used to–something I’ve mostly unfolded over time, and it always enhances my enjoyment as it does so.

So, in the off chance the band is reading this: very sorry to see you go, but thank you for the wonderful music–it will remain on my playlist for a long time yet to come, I’m sure.

Update: Apparently they have been broken up for two months and the news is just now leaking? More if/when I have it.

2 Responses »

I’m going to start cataloging my notes for Meetings With Remarkable Men here. I’m going to start by exploring some of my earliest experiences with diners.

It all really started in high school, at my church youth group. After the evening’s events we would often go to Shari’s to further socialize. There were large groups of us. We were loud and annoying and didn’t tip, and if any of the servers who had the misfortune of serving us are reading this, I am very, very sorry. As large groups often are, it was loud and often chaotic. People forgot about food, conversations were fragmented and often overlapped with other conversations, and I often found myself bouncing from one to the other–probably listening. In groups, I listen. It’s almost more enjoyable.

It was a stark contrast to the quiet of the youth group–which ended on an introspective note, and the socialization that took place after was always subdued while still in the building. This was people in their element, being served, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves, pretending the rest of the universe didn’t exist–and in many ways pretending the rest of the night never happened. I didn’t develop people-watching tendencies until much later, but I started to think of the late-night diner as a neutral zone. No authority figures–waitresses certainly didn’t count to this group. For a high school student, there are few occasions when there is no chance of interacting with someone in authority, be it a parent, a teacher, a youth pastor, or otherwise. The other options are movie theaters, or a parent being out of town for the weekend–one of which was generally not an ideal time for socializing, the other of which was hardly reliable, especially for a kid like myself, who seldom simply went somewhere just to hang out.

I enjoyed this little routine, of bumming a ride out and a ride back, drinking a milkshake, talking, laughing, being loud and obnoxious and proud of it. I was free from social responsibility and free to be a part of the group. This declined as some of the older, more charismatic kids graduated and moved on, and I started slipping away from my religion and, now that I could drive, doing more independent things. But it was always a positive place in my mind.

No Responses »

I would be amiss if I didn’t mention this little blog. I will be guest posting there for the next week or so. Stay tuned for laffs.

The premise is simple: XKCD, a webcomic of notable internet fame, used to be awesome. Lately it is not so awesome. Carl Wheeler, the originater of XKCD: Overrated, grabbed xkcdsucks.blogspot.com and started writing about it. It gets a pretty consistent readerbase and has a pretty lively community, even if some people hate on it for no good reason. It’s snarky and finds fault even in the good ones. We are complaining about something on the internet. Please take from that what you will.

As an aside, I was recently introduced to someone because I have previously written guests posts there and because she writes a webcomic. It did not seem like a natural connection to make but hey, what can you do?

No Responses »