That which we treasure... a mix tape.

“The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules. Anyway... I've started to make a tape... in my head... for Laura. Full of stuff she likes. Full of stuff that makes her happy. For the first time I can sort of see how that is done.”
“High Fidelity” – 2000 – Touchstone pictures

The mix tape. Or just the “Mix.” We’ve all made them. Usually for another person or just to remind us of that person. Maybe it’s a particular mood we want to capture, or an event we’d like to assign to memory through song. One further way to personalize something, make it ours that much more. The ladies were my subject usually. Whenever I became enamored with a female, I never had the courage to just approach her and see what happens. I would give her a mix tape and hope she “got it.” I was telling her things that I couldn’t say, what I was too shy or cowardly to in the first place. It was a way for me to put myself out there, but not really. She could look into things as she saw fit, and take things accordingly. Either she could ignore my feelings or it would sweep her off her feet.

Normally, I got the former.

Ever since sixth grade, mix tapes were my one weapon that I thought were special. There were the classic, not-so subtle titles I chose most often. The Smoking Popes “I need you around” or “Everything I Do, I Do it for you” by Bryan Adams for starters. Aerosmith’s “Angel” was one I was particularly proud of myself for choosing, once upon a time. Naturally, I would mix these songs with favorite artists of the intended, so as to keep them interested and not make the tape so “I want you” heavy. To me, the mix tape was that final, declaring dialogue at the end of a film where the man and the woman finally come clean and run into each other’s arms, to the final song on his mix tape for her. Too bad I hadn’t figured it was the movies; and that shit don’t happen in real life. The quote I included at the beginning outlines what you should do… a good start to get worked up to a final, crashing, powerful finish. Kind of like screaming, grab-the-headboard-sex.


Regardless, I’m glad I made those tapes. Each one was special for the intended, and in most cases even though nothing good came from them, I hope at least they liked the music. And it was a gauge for me about them. One girl didn’t like the oldies music I had put on there, so far as calling it “gay.”

Bitch done got kicked to the curb. Not just for that though, but I knew then and there it was the beginning of the end.

So now I’m dating a wonderful girl, but here’s the problem. I haven’t made her a mix. It’s been a way for me to get the girl, I don’t know what to put on there now that I’ve already got her. I don’t have anything worth putting on there because I’ll tell her myself. I don’t need someone else to say it for once. It would be such a different tape for me, because this isn’t about my feelings for once, she knows those. It’s about her, me, where are, and where we’re going. And that’s a lot to encapsulate in 17 songs.
Yes, yes mix tapes at the most basic are a way for one person to expose someone else to new music. My non-flirting (at least in his own mind) friend D does this. He made my other male friend K a mix tape. Does this mean he wants to engage in hot man-sex with him? Nope. Unless there’s something they’re not telling me, but as far as I know they’re both straight as arrows. REGARDLESS of purpose, a mix tape is a collection of songs that one by one are great, but together form a musical Voltron. I ask that folks respect the ability it takes to put a good mix together. And thanks for all the FALSE IMAGERY AS TO THE POWER OF A MIX TAPE, HOLLYWOOD. GEEZ.

You can never look back... can you?

Just when I thought I was out...

So for the past four years, I've managed to lose contact with and/or cut off interaction with a good number of folks from my past. Now, like an itch in my back nostalgia has come and hit me hard for the past few months. I honestly don't know why I am looking, but I am finding people from my past again. At Harry Potter, I saw an old classmate. Sometimes I'll run into others on the train. Just yesterday, an old acquaintance from my dorm. It's amazing how if you stay in the same areas that no matter how much seems to change things always stay the same (to use a cliche). There's not a lot to it, though. I don't even know where to begin, much less what I'll say when it happens.

In High school, it was what college I was going to, or what neighborhood I was from. In College, the questions were what my major was, what my ACT/SAT scores were, and now that I'm graduated it's what I'm doing now and what I studied and/or where I came from. These are the questions I answer most, but it seems like the same people just at different times in our lives. One gigantic circle, having spent so much time away but now rooted back in.

And I am totally buying into it. I'm trying to maintain my current associations, reforging ones I feel I missed out on, and I don't even know why I'm contacting people again in some cases. In some ways I feel I have unfinished business. Other times, it's just curiosity or boredom. Usually the latter. Such is the way that things seem to go for me though, that no matter how far along I think I've come there's always some moment to bring me back, to shake me loose from whatever perch I've managed to hang onto. It's disturbing, comforting, and confusing as shit all at the same time. One of these days soon maybe I'll get it right and figure out where to go before I hold myself back in everything I feel I didn't do, in the days I can no longer change.

Ok Go - the concert

OK AWESOME!

This past Friday I had the unmitigated pleasure of watching an awesome band: Ok Go (www.okgo.net). The last single I had heard from them was "A Million Ways" and the first "Get over it." They rocked me crazy with both. (And not just because they danced their asses off in the former's music video.) I don't even know what songs they played, but each was awesome and got me moving. They covered the Violent Femmes, mixed the old and the new, culminating into the encore. The lead singer (Damian, so my girlfriend tells me) uses the stage well and even snuck into the crowd. It was great to see him perform so energetically, considering he had prefaced the entire performance by announcing he had had too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Oh yeah. The encore. They dance. They danced HARD. Following a rant from Damian about the deteriorating values of an encore, the crowd was treated to a live performance of their "A Million Ways" interpretation, much appreciated by the crowd and this writer particularly for all the screaming that went on. They're real, yo. Straight up.

It was a good time at the Metro again, and the only thing that kept the night from being perfect was getting my bag checked... only to see some people hadn't been asked to do the same. Thankfully the staff was really respectful about addressing my concerns and spoke to me in a courteous manner. Cookie points to them.

Alas, the time did feel too brief, and I have no recollection about the opening bands but I did think they were pretty cool too. Ahh.... good times in Chicago.

THANKS OK GO!

A Night Out at the Club

And it's game time!


We're here at your fashionable nightclub. The beats be kickin, the bodies be sweatin', and the moves be spinning.

Opening up tonight is this classic match of nature vs. nurture, estrogen vs. testosterone; man vs. woman!

The rules tonight are simple: The woman's on defense, while the man is on the attack. After the coin toss, she has elected to have a friend dancing with her. If necessary they have also retained the right to gratuitously make out. The man has chosen to be a lone wolf tonight. As such, he is outfitted in the standard leather jacket, button down, and dark pants. Yes, it's a hot club. No, I don't know if HE knows.

And we're off!

The woman and her friend have advanced near the DJs booth, and they have set up a spot. Outfitted in her tube top and tight black pants, the woman and her friend are already cooking up hot mix on the dance floor. They don't even seem to be aware the man is in the vicinity. Nor should they care as into each other they seem. Dancing with each other the two women are doing quite nicely so far.

And here comes the man! Hands up, bouncing up and down at the knees with his feet flat, the guy is making his approach. One.... two..... three..... and he's in! The woman has turned around, oblivious to the man! And he's making his final sweep in.... contact! The man has attained contact! But how long can he hold? The woman upon leaving her back vulnerable has allowed the man to move onto her and start grooving with her... on her backside. They're moving and she seems receptive. She's grinding... grinding back... and the guy, both his hands STILL up, is going with it! We just might have a match here, ladies and gents.

Ooop, now the turning point. The song is dying down, and so is her groove. There it is, the moment of truth. She's turning around and facing the man....


OH THE HUMANITY! She's whipped her head around back to her friend! The look on her face is totally showing "OH MY GOD" and there it is, she's grabbed her friend and they're running away! They're retreating to the back! The man could not maintain! He could not maintain!

Yes folks, he's still dancing. With his hands up. Yes, the music has stopped. Oh wait... there he goes, he looks puzzled. Oop, there's the shoulder shrug, looks like we'll have a round 2 some other time tonight!




This little tale was inspired by true events. Poor bastard.

SERVED!

Yes folks. It happens to the best of us. Often when we least expect it, thus making the moment flood with a bitter, bitter taste.

I was served.

I wasn't just served plain, mind you. Oh no. I got served. BY DORKS. (Trust me, they were dorks. I smell my own.)

My friend "Aeris" and I were revelling in the Halloween deco at her neighborhood Target (boycott them! They allow their pharmacists to withhold emergency contraception and birth control on moral/religious grounds! And they eat babies!) and made our way to the toy section. There, she made the most fascinating discovery; a Lego-themed pirate game! It was awesome. She ran up calling my name and then holding the game abreast. Her face lit up with mirth, amusement, and joy as she presented the game to me. In its technicolor glory was the game clutched in her hands. She was excited and pleased as punch said, "I'm totally going to kick your ass."

I heard it, first. Snickering and laughter. Rolling into a grand crescendo, spilling against my ear like a cold November rain, like thunder only less threatening and slightly greasier a trio of Dorklings at the end of the aisle were within earshot. One leaned over and said, "She's totally going to kick your ass."

I was stunned. Assailed from two forces at once, I could only muster a weak "Yeah, yeah she is." Taken aback at the verbal sling I had just been shot with, Aeris and I made our way out of the aisle, towards sporting goods leaving the three headed beast of geekdom behind. Boosted a +1 machismo being next to the bats and weights, I loudly said "Wow, I just got served by DORKS. I was DORK-SERVED." Aeris, taking my lead followed with a few loud dorks of her own. "YOU JUST GOT DORK-SERVED!?" She iterated. More giggling ensued from the other aisle followed by "YEAHHHH DORKS!"

Yeah, I was served. Yeah, I was taken down a peg. But it took three of them to do so.

And I know the intimate touch of a woman.

+1 esteem + 20 I WIN POINTS.

I never really got out while I was in college. I would go to the occasional kegger, maybe a house party but I wasn't a partygoer by any real definition of the term.

HOWEVER. I like to consider myself a pretty observant dude and from those few times I did put on my brand new shirt I came away with a whole SLEW of information.

1) GENTLEMEN: We really need to figure out something ELSE to wear. C'mon, seriously. Girls have an assortment of tube tops, halters, blouses, nighties to wear to clubs so must we ALWAYS go with that button down/jeans combo? Bouncers, I can understand not letting in dudes with t-shirts, but we need some leeway!

2) LADIES: Quit with the girl-girl action. You're making it less hot. And you're totally ripping off action from bisexuals/lesbians.

3) THE GUY THAT ALWAYS HAS SHIRT UNBUTTONED:
-a) Shave your chest
-b) Stop. Just. Stop
4) DJs: Have more than an hours' worth of music ready, eh? REPLAYS SUCK
5) EVERYBODY: Seriously. Walk around the dance floor. If people are shaking their groove thing don't be idiots and start shoving people out of the way so you can drink your brain killer of the night. It's annoying as all hell and you're an outright disrespectful turd.

Oh yeah, now I remember why I don't go out that much.

Doh!

Anyone who knows me is well aware of the trials and tribulations I've had with the ladies. I am never nor do I believe will I ever be a smooth guy. My flirtation runs in the vein of dipping one's pigtails in the inkwell or saying she's got problems. Then there's the "innocuous approach" where I start out as a friend and then get shot down because I'm such a great friend. I've had girls cry after I've kissed them, been told they were too busy to see me for an entire quarter, I'm really sweet and will make a girl happy, the works. Basically, I win.

Then all that changed. As of March 2004, I met the most wonderful girl and we have been dating for about 19 months (18 if you ask her).

I'll spare the details about any further mushy behavior. You people came here to read something insightful, funny, and.... uhm... why are you here?!

Yeah. So it's a two way street. Maybe I should have made my intentions clear from the start. Maybe I shouldn't have expected the girls to "get the point." Maybe I shouldn't have been such a nice guy that they wanted to have their cake and date another guy that totally didn't treat them right while still having a guy emotionally there for them.

Cheer up, emo kid!

I'm a little bitter. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I hate the fact that I let those folks control my emotions and take energy, time, resources, and love from me yet never giving any back. It doesn't work that way because you give and give until finally you're husk, a shell of your former self. And I was there. I was that point where I was ready to hollow everything out just for the HOPE of a date. Cutting those connections were hard. Not the hardest, but pretty freaking tough all the same. Compared to other things I've been through they were small potatoes but that doesn't mean they hurt any less and that I am sitting calmly one day and get snapped into an old memory, out of the blue.

And then I run into someone, in person. Totally random, just they're there. They look a little different, slightly changed but deep in that exterior I see the face of someone I fell in love with so long ago. It's gone now but not without a little ache in a place long forgotten. By no means am I advocating to forget those come and gone, but I also worry that sometimes I'll get so mired in the past that I won't be able to move forward any more than I have now. It's especially hard now being out of school and not knowing what will come next. It's so easy to go back and look at the past and want to have that again in some way whether it is through seeing an old classmate or going back to high school. We've all done it, we all still do it. It sucks, it hurts, but it reminds me why I am where I am, and what I am to NEVER. EEEEEVER. DO. AGAIN.

Yeesh, very little sleep over the last couple of days. Nothing is coming out of this noggin' o' mine. Be back soon!

DRESDEN DOLLS - www.dresdendolls.com

So last night, I went to see a show with The First. The band was called, "The Dresden Dolls" consisting of only a pianist, drums, and sometimes guitar. (The true vowels, children.) Simply put, they rock. D (The First) had an awesome time as she loves them, and was singing along for most of the set, (whereas I sang along most of the time for Lucky Boys' Confusion.) They started the show with a White Stripes cover, and dressed up in drag and between songs they moved into regular costume (or as regular as I guess it was, as this was my first time seeing them. With the exception of the occasional asshole attendee that got invited to perform and the traditional "Freebird" request the show was great. They had slow songs, and songs that slapped you hard in the face with an aural assault of punching piano and deafening drums. The singer's voice is awesome, as she can do a note and scream at the same time. And her facial expressions are fantastic as I saw her move from touched to manic to outright rage and defiance through the set. The energy from the drummer was fantastic and this little column of mine will do him no justice. The fact I even try to describe her voice is arrogant on my part. There as another opening band (that we missed) and some side acts between the bands, such as a performance piece and a male contortionist (it's just not for Cirque Du Soleil!) along with this awesome marching band and some other street performers. There was an MC, Peter who was awesome to the crowd as well.

I do plan on following more of their music (and D does have the CD). D tried to get me to go to a show last year, but we didn't make it. I am definitely glad that I got to watch them this time. On a side note, best cover of "Hallelujah" I've ever heard. (Can anyone tell me if it was covered by Rufus Wainwright, or was that his own thing?)

More importantly though, the crowd was totally into it. Instead of something like Limp Bizkit or Creed where the crowd turned, this crowd was in costume, throwing up the horns, pumping their fists, and dancing. At least the ones on the main floor. Singing along adds so much to environment, it was almost electric with the way the crowd fed off them, and the DD gave it right back. Her voice was aching at the end but it only added to the impact of the music especially during "Hallelujah." I mentally began to draw some comparisons between her voice and Amy Lee's of "Evanescence" but D would kill me if I did, and each band is in a league of their own where comparison is really unfair to either.

By the way, if you're a TALL person, and you see someone short behind you, or someone's REALLY straining because you TOWER over them, how about letting them in front? Just to be a decent person. And if you think you're too cool to applause, scream and clap and would rather drink then sit the fuck down and let people who WANT to be there see the show. Whores.

Thanks to the Dresden Dolls. I hope to hear you again really soon. So much!

Continuing with our Halloween string of posts...

Seriously. What the hell is up with Halloween = SLUT? Granted, I'm not really one to complain but anything short of being a virgin (no more!) means I am not afraid of sexy nurses. I remember back when even the prettiest girls in grade school would dress up as the most hideous witches. Or maybe the occasional princess/fairy. However, that changed in high school/college. Gone were the halcyon days of disfigurement and horror, in were the costumes of cleavage, ass, and hoochie. Yes, it was utterly terrifying. Terrifying to approach them, as their uterine walls may devour me. With BIG TEETH.

But what happened in those years? Yes, girls got shapely but where is the imagination? The fun? the true meaning of Halloween? The male side of me totally appreciates the "HURR BEWBIES HURR" of it all, but in all honesty I really appreciate an awesome monster as well. I once met a girl as a positive pregnancy test. Utterly horrifying. It was smart, and it was scary, granted she was no monster but she also didn't flop her butt cheeks out of her pants. It's something I see every week/weekend at bars, clubs, on the street/on campus and I'll be the first to admit it; I'm a horny guy. But I'm also a huge supporter for Halloween and the original "Oh no ghosties!" roots. Yeah, my costume isn't that terrifying, but only because my SO does not have any desire to be near me that night should I make it. (Like I said, I'm a horny guy).

I do enjoy the female form, but maybe just maybe, we can get a moratorium on the scantily clad clothing? (Unless you're a naked ghost like the girl from "Thirteen Ghosts" or Katie Holmes's character from "The Gift") I understand it's one night, it's something you aren't so it's ironic that you dress up that way, but seriously. I want to be terrified on Halloween, not turned on. I want to be scared well, and scared often. Or outright creeped out and fascinated by the horror. And while I'm at it, t-shirts that say "This is my Halloween costume" are really getting tired. The joke was funny the first 500 times. Show me something new, something cheesy. Oh well, here's to tomorrow. Guys, don't think you're off the hook on this one too. You know which ones I'm talking about, the guys all done up along the same vein as the vixen females in some way or another. That stuff isn't scary either. Creepy and scary are not always mutually exclusive.

Thanks to the people that still do their makeup and put their scars on; you guys rock.

T-minus a couple of weeks and counting 'til that most glorious time, Halloween. It is when I get to dress up and leave myself behind for one night. Putting on someone else's skin, and parading around as I feel that person should be. It is amazing how brave I feel when I can channel someone else, whether it was the Statue of Liberty or a doctor that was born with a dolphin face. There was always something appealing to me about ditching the mundane life that I had lead up to that point for something make believe, an image and character that I created. And people ate it up. If I was in a mask I could say hi to anyone, talk to anyone, act like an idiot on a dance floor and it was cool. Cloaks and other coverings only enhanced to the faux mystique that I exuded. Maybe once in awhile it would even be a *gasp* girl that fell into conversation with me. It didn't matter what I was, or that no one could guess what the hell I was dressed up as. All that mattered was I felt proud and comfortable. Ironic that it took me pretending I was something else and totally hiding who I was regularly. I would draw a parallel to Superman, but I don't have the cool powers.

I've always loved Halloween for that mere fact. That I did not have to be me, and by nightfall I would be transformed. It applies mechanics from some of my favorite genres of film and television. I once read an article about the Japanese fascination of transformation to a greater power as displayed in Anime: Kenshin's turning into the Battousai, Dragon Ball Z's Super Saiyans, even the Transformers taking everyday vehicles and making them huge awesome robots. Nothing is as it seems, and I let that be my guide for Halloween. I do try to frighten and I do get caught up in being spooky, but mostly it is about NOT BEING HERE. I feel as if I'm channeling the persona I'm assuming, acting, putting on a show. Yes, that one Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode used this little item for an episode, and that is why Joss Whedon is awesome.

So the important thing here is that with one day I do not have to assume the face and troubles of all the personalities that I use on a daily basis. Those masks and particular habits take the night off. For one great night, I transform and roll out... into a pirate.

Now pass me my eyepatch and sword, ye who travel these seas best prepare to be boarded.

This is a plea for people to enjoy themselves responsibly and intelligently.

Thank you to everyone that's reading ;)