May 31st, 2002. Friday
Hello, dear friend(s). How are you? I certainly hope all is well.
Crap. I hate when I get to work and notice my fly is down. Which means it was down the whole time on the train. So I could have been greeting the commuters on the F, A, and 1 trains this morning. One of the guys on the A train was reading some sort of porno mag I think. I don't think it was actually a porno mag, but the article was interviewing pornstars I think. One guy was saying how he was a "selective down-goer" and how he doesn't assume a girl is "clean" just because it seems that way. No, he uses some sort of sixth sense. I can't imagine the sort of person who would choose this as reading material at 8 AM on a crowded subway. But what I pondered most was "shouldn't the term be 'goer-down' or 'go-downer'?"
Anyway, I went to the Mets- Phillies game on Wednesday night. The Phightin's lost. I've yet to go to a Phillies game where they've won. By coincidence, Geoff was at the game that night. Most annoying was the fact that they won't let you bring bags into the stadium. They let people with bigger bags in for some reason, but not our backpacks and shoulder bags. I guess terrorists dog use a lot of canvas or wicker handbags. The stupidest thing was that even though we had to go to the back of the Shea Stadium parking lot and leave our bags ina little trailer, they still checked our bags. Before leaving work, James returned to me my guitar tuning pedal I had loaned him. It crossed my mind that if they checked our bags at the game, I'd have to explain what it was. Even though it's clear labeled "Chromatic Guitar Tuner." But then I thought, nah, no one's that anal and dumb. So of course when I check my bag, it's the only thing in there, and the security guy picks it up, looks at it for a minute, then looks at me puzzled. Sure, it was a little black metal box, but it's clearly labeled. I really hate people in New York. So he finished checking my bag, but doesn't even say so. He just walks away. then comes back and checks another bag. Like I'm going to assume anything after all the hassle. Prick. Anyway, in another odd coincidence, I ran into my childhood friend Jon at the bag check line after the game. He's been in New York for the nearly three years I've been here, and I think this was about the third time I've actually seen him in New York. I don't keep in touch very well.
My aparment mates and I are having a party this weekend. It's really just an excuse to clean up the place. Our desire for general cleanliness is strong, but it takes the prospect of abject humilation and exposure as total disgusting slobs to motivate us. And having our friends tell us we're filthy doesn't help. We need an apartment full of friends of friends who we don't want to be embarrass ourselves in front of. Of course, the apartment is filthy after the party, but it's only a surface level kind of filth and grime and is easily and quickly cleaned. Not like the thick coats of miscellaneous crap that pile on in the months between parties.
I've spent the first few days at work downloading a lot of music. I haven't been able to get Elvis Costello's "Veronica" out of my head for three days now. This was joined yesterday by "Love Burns" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. I don't particularly like BRMC, though I've only heard this one song. They're just another one of those bands that I can't figure out what's so good about them. It's a pretty generic song, but it has that intangible quality that makes it a great catchy tune, regardless of who's singing. Ratt could have come out with this song in 1985 and it would've been a big hit. I've also ended my Steve Malkmus embargo. It'd been more than a year since that horrendous Irving Plaza show made me hate the man I used to love so much. But I was finally able to listen to his solo album again. At least one song, that is. "Jenny and the Ess-Dog." What an asshole. I've also been downloading a lot of old Weezer b-sides and alternate versions of old songs. Even their old b-sides are so much better than their new songs. It's really sad. Anyone of the their songs off the last two albums would've made decent, rockin' b-sides, but together as an album- to paraphrase the Buddy Holly video- "That's not so good, Al." All their songs sound pretty much the same now. No texture or different sounds. Clean guitar and distorted guitar is about as all you get in the sonic diversity department. And the lyics aren't so hot either. I just miss the sound of the first two albums, and I almost wish they hadn't come back. Still, bad Weezer is still better than most bands right now.
For the first time in a while, last night I spent many many hours playing the guitar. I had my guitar lesson after work, and then right after eating I sat in my room and played for a few more hours. For some reason writing songs is coming pretty easily to me now. Relatively, I mean. Not that I've finished anything. But I've started a few, which is more than I've ever done. All the songs sound pretty generic, and the lyrics are whatever pop into my head when singing at three in the morning, but you gotta start somewhere. I think being surround by people who play music is a big part of it. There's James, of course, and then there are two of my neighbors who both play and record. And I figure if they can do it, surely I can. Plus, having Caryn's four track has really helped. Anyway, it just feels good to be doing something besides playing video games all night. So at the very least, it's a plus.
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