Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The most joyous hurt

It's funny how the actions of twenty year old young men I've never met that are two thousand miles away affect my life.
I'm talking about college football here. The cause of my greatest joys, besides my son, obviously. And also the cause of some of the worst pain.
Every year around the beginning of June, hope springs anew. It's a new season, there are new players. There are older players returning with experience. The coaches have new schemes. The team has a new attitude. There is plenty of newness to hope on. And, as it turns out, ninety nine percent of the time, it is just that - hope.
The fans all start postulating and predicting. Rival fans start trash talking. All that is heard is: "If "x" happens, we can't be beat.." Thoughts of trips in January are prevalent. Everyone has hope. Maybe not to win it all, but hope. Hope to beat one team or the other. Or Hope just not to lose too badly. But, still, there is enduring hope.
All the predicting, postulating, trash talking and hope changes throughout the season, conforming itself to the endless myriad of results that play out. The rollercoaster rolls on, dipping and diving, peaking and falling in increments of seconds, minutes, and games. Seconds can last hours, minutes can fly like seconds. Grown men cry. Grown men yell. Grown, adult males throw things like children. And it's a beautiful catastrophe.
College football is a place where you can feel horrible Even if you win. Or you can find solace in a team other than yours losing( I see you Notre Dame). College football is a place where a guy dressed up like a huge nut can inspire hatred. College football makes grandmothers shout obscenities that would make a sailor blush. College football makes two shirtless, sweaty guys with back hair hug.
College football is all these things, and I love every bit of it. In a masochistic way, I like the agony. After the pain, there is joy. Joy in winning, or just joy that the pain has ended for now. I can see a Michigan sticker or a car and yell "Go Blue" as I drive by. That person will either feel my pain or know my joy. That person is my compatriot, even though I have never spoken to them. This fact make me smile deep, deep down inside.
So far this season has been nothing but a giant let down. The thing is, I know it's always gonna be like that. It's akin to the hot girl that you've always wanted, but knew was a trainwreck finally spending the night. And you start to think: "This could go somewhere".You know it will end badly, but you still have to try. You know you will end up in the fetal position on your bedroom floor screaming "WHHHHHYYYYYYYYY??". You know, but still you love. Moth to a flame.
Fuck it, Flame on.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Reviews and Surf expo blog.

The following are older blogs, but I liked them, so I reposted them here for all to see.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Review 2

So, in my quest to broaden my musical horizons, I download the new, "hot" act, Panic! at the disco. A former co-worker of mine selected the album "A fever you can't sweat out" as one of the ten best of 2005, so I decided to give it a listen.
Ok, iPOD loaded, new day at work, I've already drank my coke, and I'm set up to start working.Clear headed and in a reasonably good mood, let's do this. Earbuds in, press play.
A kinda cool intro plays, sounds like someone tuning a radio to different stations, then lapses into some acoustic guitar and the usual, young melodic voice singing about teen angst. Then the drop hits and some moderate rocking occurs. Ok.... not as terrible as i expected, I can at least get through this song. Wait ... what the fuck ? a late 80's synth break ??? hmm .. pulling out all the stops on this one I see.
Song 2, more painful, longing lyrics about how hard life is. SKIP SONG.
The third track starts with the cheezy 80's synthesizer, and a drum machine. There's a reason that shit died in the late 80's .. it was garbage.I find myself suddenly thinking about where the nearest Stabucks is.I feel like I need more black on, and my wrists feel naked, like I need some wristbands. I find myself having ill feelings towards my mother.
Well, I made it through 4 songs before I tapped out.
So, in retrospect, you can probably get a New Order, Echo and the Bunnymen, or Dead or Alive CD in the bargain bin for about 5-8 dollars cheaper and hear the same shit. These artists are in the bargain bin for a reason:they suck ass. People figured it out in the late 80's, and it still applies today.
As I always do, I will suggest a substitution in your music catalog for this garbage. The album I chose to cleanse my ears with was: "Van Halen" by Van Halen. Plenty of songs about love and the tough life as a youngster. By the time "Janie's cryin'" was done my balls had actually dropped back in to their original position, and I was thinking about buying a truck.


All music is Emo, you sheep.
It vexes me to see a genre of music called "emo". I know that the music industry is a business, and it's a profit driven beast, but music itself is emotions.
Although it is a brilliant marketing scheme to coin the term "emo" and embrace the disenfranchised youth of today with a sense of belonging, it makes me ill that young, intelligent individuals would fall prey to such a ruse.
To me, a young man whining about how the head cheerleader wouldn't go out with him because his parents bought him a focus instead of a lexus doesn't really stir my emotions. Granted, there are different kinds of trauma for different people, but a middle class kid bitching about having to drive 30 munutes to get a good latte does not make me want to change the world.
In their quest to be more obscure and irreverant, the young people have grabbed ahold of everything that was jettisoned by the earlier generations as garbage, and "broken new ground" in music.They have excavated all the things that earlier acts have abandoned because they didn't work, and renamed them "indie", "garage", or the almighty "emo".
"Emo" seems to be carte blanche for someone to be weird and depressed just to be fucking weird and depressed.The fact that they can be categorized should go against the very fiber of what they stand for, yet they embrace the "emo" tag.
It seems that they want to say that their emotions come out in their style of music. To the world, I pose this question: What music does not express emotion?
There are obvious and not so obvious examples of this in ALL music classified by the music industry.For example:
Pantera's "Fucking hostile" tells the tale of a person's friends talking shit about him, and how it makes him feel. Common occurence and very moving, even though it would not be tagged "emo"
Lil' Wayne's " I miss my dawg" is the story of two friends divided by their own friends and how much Wayne misses his boy, Juvie. Another circumstance nearly everyone could identify with, however, not labeled "emo"
Jimi Hendrix's "Hey Joe" is about how a man feels when he's cheated on.
Some not-so-obvious examples :
Tag Team's "Whoomp, there it is" is a song riddled with emotion. It's a feel-good story about you and your boys at a club hearing your favorite song, all looking at each other, and going "Whoomp! there it is" and dancing your ass off for no reason. We've all been there.
Destiny's Child "Bootylicious" is a song about feeling so inadequate that you can't talk to the pretty girl at the club. I, myself can identify with that.
Limp Bizkit's "I did it all for the nookie" relates the tale of a young man's quest for tail, and how he hates himself for it.
Irish folk music makes me happy, classical music makes me contemplative, speed metal makes me want to destroy villages, hip hop makes me want to bob my head, ska provokes me to jump .. basically, all music evokes a response, so to categorize one type as "emo" baffles me.
EVERYONE feels young and awkward.Just because some marketing company puts out a uniform and a soundtrack for youth feeling shitty, doesn't mean that the youth need to take that as gospel.
All music is inspired by and made from emotions, including greed.
Wake the fuck up.

Review 1

I loathe MTV, and everything about it(except fot the occassinal NEXT viewing), but it got me yesterday.
I was flipping through the channels, and was called away from the TV mid-flip. I came back to see the last 30 seconds of some band on TRL. The lead singer has looked kinda like a cal punker guy, and the band looked cool as well. The played what sounded like some old 80's metal and a little punk.The little snippet seemed like it was o.k., so I watched and found out who they were. The band was Avenged Sevenfold.
I go to my favorite website, and download the entire catalog, wanting to check these guys out. I've seen their name alot, and was truly interested to see what these guys are about.
O.k.. I'm at work, cue up "City of Evil" on the iPOD. Ready to rock. First song starts, guitar crunching, the lead guitar wailing away over it. Alright, I'm digging it. Then the singer starts singing, and it all goes to hell. More wailing guitar that sounds like medievil harpsichord music over crunching guitars. This song is 8 minutes long ? Why do the choruses sound like a Warrant song ?? Why is that lead still playing the same riff ??
Phew ! .. Song 2 starts. Hmmmm Same guitar, same vocals, same chorus. Weird. This is track 2 ? yes.
Track 3. Wow, it's the same lead, I guess the Avenged guys really like that. Oh, and there's the same chorus, as well.
So, it turns out all the tracks are pretty much like that, and I for one, am not a fan. I listened to 2 other Avenged albums that sounded exactly like the first one I listened to.
My summation on Avenged Sevenfold: A band wanting to sound metal,punk, and harmonize all at once. Basically, if you combined Iron Maiden, Pennywise, and had some backing vocals by Dokken, you'd hit it right on the head. It doesn't work, never has. Ask Yngwie Malmsteen So, some agency found a burgeoning hair band, did a punk/retro/emo make over, and threw them a bible and said "write songs from this book"
If you wanna hear a band that does one thing, but does it correctly, listen to a little band I like to call Slayer. They haven't veered from the course by one inch. Check out "Reign in Blood" or "Diabolus en Musica". Fuckin' A right.
This is my first review, if it's well received, I'll do more.
Next up : Panic! at the Disco.

Skateboard, lederhosen, and 2 live

A few blurbs about my weekend at the surf expo:
I met some really cool people that I figured would be assholes. I was wrong. Inversely, some people that I do know and thought were cool were assholes when in the presence of "the industry"
Girls that are bitches to a 6'4 black guy with platinum teeth on Fri night have a completely different attitude on Sat when they find out he's a pro skater. You know EXACTLY who you are.
Most heard quote Fri night: Oh, you're THAT guy.
Volcom booth was out of control. Free Hienies, pretzels, and Jager. Complete octoberfest theme, but it was called "Sausagefest". Brilliant. Anytime there's a guy in a suit crowdsurfing and drinking jager straight out of the bottle while techno polka music plays at 4:30 on a Sat afternoon and 50 people are shouting "EAST COAST!! EAST COAST", that's a fucking party.
Most overused quote during skate contest: "Coming in hot"
Apparently my buddy Kenny is a magician or has magic pants. Throughout the weekend, beers kept appearing out of his pockets.
I was actually happy to see someone from my past engaging in the same, horrible, self destructive behavior. They deserve the life they are living.
Free Mich ultra is still fucking horrible.
It was nice to see the beer bong making a comeback.
2 words : REEF GIRLS
2 live crew are pretty good, especially for free.
Most heard quote from Big Hughes " Stupes, kid, stupes.
Southern Comfort is evil and is now banned from my metabolism.
Smoking hot girls sometimes don't care what kind of ride you push. Sometimes.
Best nickname: Peterdong
Most heard quote on Sun : "Ugh"
I learned I'm not photogenic. At all.
I smiled. Alot

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Bear with me ...

The going will be sluggish at first, so hang in there, people.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Origins ....

In the beginning, I remember alcohol.
There is about a six week period that I can think of that I didn't see my grandfather with a beer in his hand. He had Just had a quadruple bypass(in the eighties, that was a MAJOR operation), and the doctors said he had to. That lasted about a month and a half. He would literally drink more than a case a day. Every day. Busch cans, with actual pull off tabs. Hell, I even remember when the cans were made of tin. Pop would usually start around 10 o'clock(AM) and continue through the day. Now, mind you, I said he would drink, not appear drunk. I can count on one hand the number of times I'd seen him sloppy. He would drink while doing anything: fishing, hunting, carpentry, and driving. He died of heart failure when he was 59.
My Aunt, Stevie(Stephanie) preferred rum, and assloads of it. She sailed with good 'ol Captain Morgan on a daily basis. That woman drank as much as I've ever seen anyone drink. One of those big, handled bottles of the Captain a day. Mixed with coke in one of those refillable seven-eleven Big Gulp cups. Now, she would get tanked. The bad kind of wasted: emotional, stumbling, rambling, and violent. The kind of drunk that wouldn't leave you alone, grabbing on to you and slurring "no ! listen to me ..". She died of Hepatitis C in her 30's.
I wasn't around my father until I was probably 16 or so. My mother and he split when I was around a year old, and I didn't have any contact with him until I was 16, purely his choice. My father works in New York City, and is a really successful CEO of a stock market research firm. Dad drinks Vodka, on the rocks. Dad drinks a bottle of wine with dinner. Dad drinks beer while golfing. "It's Coors LIGHT." Dad doesn't drink beer before noon, and liquor before 5PM. Although after five, he'll put down four Stoli on the rocks before he eats and then a nice red bottle with the food. Dad believes he doesn't have a problem with alcohol because he follows strict time guidelines. dad is a happy drunk, glazed and smiley. Dad is still kicking and runs marathons.
Mom. Mom drinks white Russians. That's vodka, Kahlua, and white milk. It smells and tastes repulsive. She calls them "cocktails". My mom is living with her mother to help take care of her. Grandma doesn't like for my mom to drink, so my mother hides her liquor in an antique baby crib in her room. Mom is also a sloppy drunk, slurring and emotional. Mom died when she was 56. They brought her back to life in the ambulance(this story will be relayed in another post).

The intent here is not to cry "I never had a chance", it's some background for future posts. My life, so far, has been interesting, to say the least. I've had many adventures, and will post about them here. These forays occur more often than not in the vicinity or under the influence of ethyl alcohol, hence the blog name. The following will be accounts of my life, feelings about certain events or people, and a little introspection. It will not, however be a day - to day account of my drinking, etc. Read if you'd like, comment if you will, or feel free to move on.