Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I Do, or Did, or Tried.

There is this place in South Minneapolis that buys and sells used jewelry, specifically the kind you're left with after your marriage falls apart. You go in there and you're greeted, nice enough, by staff that wear convoluted smiles belying the circumstances that brought you there in the first place. Even if you're there to buy, you're buying a ring that got hocked after somebody's divorce, and they don't try to hide this fact in their advertisements. Maybe I'm being sensitive, but the place was depressing in the same way Dollywood probably is.

It's really uncomfortable when the person helping you tries to make small talk and asks you about where you got the ring (an estate sale), how long you were married (never got the chance to propose), and how much you originally paid for it (a lot more than they offered to buy it from me for).

When you leave, the lady says, "I hope everything works out for you." And the rest of your weekend is spent trying to catch your breath, like you just got punched in the balls.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

At Least This Guy Left Me with a Mark

Of all the people that have hurt me, this guy is one of the only people to have put a cigarette out on my arm. It's True. I wish I had more - not better, just more - experiences with him. His voice kills me and I'm glad his happy making babies in Omaha.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Grand Poohbah

I love you is back.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

The Worst is Over

I remember when Cursive's "The Ugly Organ" was first released. Kyle Munson, of the Des Moines Register, gave it a glowing 5-star review and I went out and bought it immediately. It was one of those albums that wasn't quite like anything I had heard up to that point and, for a time, I listened to it all the time.

At least I thought I did.

I'm pretty sure that when this album came out, the closest that I had ever come to a broken heart was never meeting Stephanie from "Full House". I hadn't really dated anyone, so the subject matter of the album was ultimately lost on me.

Fast forward to today and I just got done listening to it for the first time in what must be, at least, 7 years. Most of the songs hit me in the gut like a sledgehammer, not just the music, but the narratives. The manic guitar that opens up the album is the perfect sound of the confused anger in my chest. Lyrics on songs like "the recluse", "driftwood", and "gentleman caller" brought tears to my eyes.

As much as I felt like I was hearing this album again for the first time, there was a genuine surprise: the final track called "staying alive". I honestly don't think I ever heard this one, although I must have. I just didn't remember it. The haunting chorus that closes the song, and album, singing "the worst is over" is what it must sound like when one passes into the afterlife.

My thoughts about it today are this: Even if the worst is over, there are still lingering effects of it. Think about the Jews that survived the holocaust. They survived, but now they have to live their lives trying to process the horrors that they lived through. Or, where I'm calling from, it's over, but that doesn't mean the damage is repaired.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Farewell, Shutterbug.

Peter and Sabrina took off today. We had ourselves quite a wild weekend. It was so hot and humid for most of it that I almost wish they stayed another night so we could have relaxed out on the deck without sweating our balls off. Well, not Sabrina.

Peter took a zillion pictures and at least half of them are awesome. I only saw about 10% of the ones he took because he is, apparently, really sneaky when he takes pictures. A bunch of candid shots, for sure.

Last night I took them to a bunch of Uptown bars and tried to share a story about each one. They tried sake for the first time at Moto-I and we all had our first Baked Potato Pizza at Pizza Luce. We over drank all weekend (especially Sunday) and last night we overate like real Americans. I barely made it through my classes today. I came home to find that they cleaned the place up real nice before leaving, which goes to show how sorry they must have been for keeping me entertained and preoccupied for four days and nights.

They are both real amazing people and I am so glad that, although I don't see them often, I can count them among my greatest friends.

The best surprise of the trip was David coming to town from Chicago, the same day that he got back from vacation in Peru with Allison. We posed for this ultra awesome picture in Northeast Minneapolis over by where I used to live. I think it's going to be the album cover the next time we have an album that needs to be covered. Stay tuned for that. I think we'll call it "Goin' My Way?".

Monday, July 11, 2011

Wash Away

My friends Peter and Sabrina are in town for a few days. Peter is the best photographer that I know. Except maybe for that guy that took that famous picture of Jesus. You can't tell from this picture, but I'm feeling pretty sad and lonely, but we're having a good time anyway.

David also came for the weekend, which took the awesomeness to a new level. We tried recording a song from start to finish. We didn't quite make it, but maybe it'll show up somewhere someday. Stay tuned.

We've listened to some Mountain Goats, Ride, and Wild Nothing this weekend. We're going to get some Lebanese for lunch and maybe some new tires for Peter's VW.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Long long gone

This is one of those songs that you hope never makes sense to you. And when it does, it makes you sad because you'd like to think that love is strong enough to overcome the hard times.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Breaking Up is Hard to Be Done To.

This song was real popular when it first came out. I don't think I ever heard it until this morning. There's a lot going on here, but I think that there's something to be said about it all. Something.

At a certain point you tell yourself that the best course of action is to try to remove yourself from what is happening. Try not to dwell on it, don't let it ruin your life. The pain doesn't go away, but it's not always there holding you down. There's things you want to say, but "fuck you" seems counter productive.

At a certain point she goes to far. She might be experiencing pain similar to yours, but she's a fighter. She's not going to fight for love, but she's going to fight to make you feel worse, worse than she feels anyway. And why not? When she's feeling bad, all bets are off. And then things get nasty. She's not interested in being civil and she's not interested in not saying anything that she can't take back.

So now you sit there, every morning, at the edge of your bed thinking: what does it all mean? And, this time, what really troubles you, is what you're afraid that the answer might be.

It doesn't mean anything.

Heaven can't offer salvation now because you gave your heart to a girl. Enjoy damnation, kid. I hope it was worth it.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


Bittersweet for the broken heart.

Art is the world's caged beauty. Caged by, like, frames and stuff. You know?