So I've taken to hanging out with an Oxford crowd again and by that I mean Liz Cimino and whoever she is with (usually Hope and Em, sometimes Kelly) lose a little bit of sense and drive thirty minutes north on Route One to my house. This has happened exactly twice in the last 5 days and both occasions have garnered an A+ for fun and possibility.
I need to start doing push-ups again because my arms are flabby. I want to film that.
What's Hot:
Roman Polanski
Summer
Wawa Milkshakes
What's Not:
Total lack of Q-tips in the bathroom drawer
Graduation party stress
Lacking another driver for extreme camping June 16-23 in North Carolina (all interested parties please apply as soon as possible)
I noticed something. We have these neighbors, we'll call them the Vees, that don't wave back at us. The Gallagher clan are a friendly bunch and we often take to waving at whomever we pass on the street and the Vees are nearly always out walking their dog at twilight. They never reciprocate. But I noticed something recently when I was biking to work. Mr. Vee was walking his dog alone, at midday, and after I waved at him he waved back. There were several more occasions where the Vees were walking together, not bothering to wave, but today, Mr. Vee was playing with his dog in the yard. Just he and his dog. And he waved. At my dad and I. Just thought that you should know.
Also, the new Hold Steady is absolutely awesome. It's not really funny to think that two or three years ago my summer soundtrack was pretty much Saves the Day and Lifetime. There's nothing wrong with Saves the Day and especially Lifetime but I'm using them to illustrate a point: summer used to equal pop-punk. But there's so much more than that. I'm trying to think of a way to describe... well, look: somehow, No Age, Cap'n Jazz and Jawbreaker all overlap. Jawbreaker, Latterman and Lifetime certainly overlap. The Hold Steady aren't doing anything drastically different than any of these bands, except they're older and grew up with Paul Westerberg and Bruce Springstein instead of Ian Mackaye. Pirouette, well, goes without saying and Failed Attempts need to put out a full-length. That was my late-night musing about my summer listening, I guess, but what I really want to say is this, this chorus from the first track off the excellent new Hold Steady album, Stay Positive. It's called "Constructive Summer" and it goes:
" We're gonna build something this summer/
Summer grant us all the power/
to drink on top of water towers/
with love and trust that shows all summer/
Let this be my annual reminder/
that we can all be something bigger."
'Night
12.6.08
9.6.08
We're On The Air
Some people don't like television. I guess I should be one of them but sometimes, there's too much to love. For example, today I spent a good twenty minutes deciding what movie to watch on Comcast On Demand. There are always so many excellent choices! Something like fast food value menu of movies... where is this going? So there's that, but also there's so many high-quality programs: that new green network; Current Television (I never mention this channel because I'm afraid my ex-girlfriend will think that I stole it from her when in fact it's the other way around. See, when we broke up I was the bleeding heart liberal and she was the one indifferent to politics. Then I guess she realized it was fashionable to hop on the Barack train and now she's a Current junkie like John Boyd and the rest of us.); NBC's unbelievable double helping on Thursday night with the Office and 30 Rock. For me, nothing will ever beat listening to a record while reading a book or magazine but there's one thing that comes damn near close and it's on the tube. I'm talking about Radio Free Roscoe.
Like a lot of good television (Degrassi, Degrassi Junior High, Degrassi: The Next Generation), RFR was Canadian and geared toward teens. Four suburban high schoolers [three guys (one vaguely Latino or maybe Indian, one African American and one Buddhist) and a girl] are tired of the "Be like this!" mentality they're surrounded by so they do what any fringe-hip clique of teenagers would do: they start their own radio station. It's executed a little less ridiculously than the way its premise sounds. Think like, Pump Up The Volume meets Dawson's Creek minus star-power, unrealistic drama and neverending, hyper-taut love situations. These are kids you could actually relate to... except they had their own pirate radio station.
There's a moment in the second episode that immediately guaranteed itself a place in my life. Lily, Travis, Ray and Robbie are hanging outside the warehouse they'll soon be broadcasting from, debating over on-air aliases. Lily, of course, really wants something special, something that's a good fit... just like the boys'.
Robbie: "How about Shady Lane?"
Ray: "Shady Lane? Yeah, great one Robbie considering nobody has ever, ever called her that!"
Lily: "No, no, it's a song by Pavement, the band, it's the song that made me want to start playing the guitar!"
It's August, I'm fourteen, watching this show on this channel I just got (DishNetwork, baby! Summer before freshman year!) and they're talking about a band I recently fell in love with? Cool I guess is the word?
Throughout its two seasons there were controversial class election campaigns (Lily's "Think Pink!" platform,) struggles to remain original (probably the most important storylines dealt with this,) really cute supporting characters (see: Julia Alexander, Victoria Nestorowicz. Grace and Parker, respectively,) a solid soundtrack (nowhere near Pete and Pete's, however,) really well-done season finales... I was crushed at the end of summer '06 when it was finished off. Degrassi just didn't cut it anymore.
I have the Best of Season One DVD (the only one the ever made. I had to order it off amazon.ca!) and they show re-runs now at 12 and 12:30 in the afternoon on The-N. I was watching them today and I still always find my gut wrenching whenever Robbie's usually benign messages about being yourself take a militant turn or when Lily embarrasses herself on stage at Mickey's. I laugh when Parker quotes Nanny Haynes. I root for Travis and Ray and really, really hope they succeed in their romantic pursuits. I smile when I watch this fucking show! It's the television equivalent of listening to Pirouette. Come watch with me?
Other news:
Hung out with Liz and Emily and Emily's cousin Hope Sunday and it was super, throwback, sophomore year kinda fun. Driving back to Oxford with them listening to Andrew W.K. superfun.
Today I picked up Caitlin and that girl... puts a spell on men! Caitlin, I'm pretty sure you are blessed with the power to make any man fall in love with you. Then we went to the park for Kelly's Peru isjawn and Sarah's Guatemala (?) ishjawn... I didn't take any pictures, but it was hot sweaty stuff your face delight. John was wearing a Rites of Spring shirt and I find myself listening to them now... I love that our taste in music doesn't entirely overlap so we share new things with each other. It's strictly heterosexual. I have trouble memorizing the lyrics to his songs and for that I am sorry. I hope you are better than I am at such things. Practice makes perfect.
Like a lot of good television (Degrassi, Degrassi Junior High, Degrassi: The Next Generation), RFR was Canadian and geared toward teens. Four suburban high schoolers [three guys (one vaguely Latino or maybe Indian, one African American and one Buddhist) and a girl] are tired of the "Be like this!" mentality they're surrounded by so they do what any fringe-hip clique of teenagers would do: they start their own radio station. It's executed a little less ridiculously than the way its premise sounds. Think like, Pump Up The Volume meets Dawson's Creek minus star-power, unrealistic drama and neverending, hyper-taut love situations. These are kids you could actually relate to... except they had their own pirate radio station.
There's a moment in the second episode that immediately guaranteed itself a place in my life. Lily, Travis, Ray and Robbie are hanging outside the warehouse they'll soon be broadcasting from, debating over on-air aliases. Lily, of course, really wants something special, something that's a good fit... just like the boys'.
Robbie: "How about Shady Lane?"
Ray: "Shady Lane? Yeah, great one Robbie considering nobody has ever, ever called her that!"
Lily: "No, no, it's a song by Pavement, the band, it's the song that made me want to start playing the guitar!"
It's August, I'm fourteen, watching this show on this channel I just got (DishNetwork, baby! Summer before freshman year!) and they're talking about a band I recently fell in love with? Cool I guess is the word?
Throughout its two seasons there were controversial class election campaigns (Lily's "Think Pink!" platform,) struggles to remain original (probably the most important storylines dealt with this,) really cute supporting characters (see: Julia Alexander, Victoria Nestorowicz. Grace and Parker, respectively,) a solid soundtrack (nowhere near Pete and Pete's, however,) really well-done season finales... I was crushed at the end of summer '06 when it was finished off. Degrassi just didn't cut it anymore.
I have the Best of Season One DVD (the only one the ever made. I had to order it off amazon.ca!) and they show re-runs now at 12 and 12:30 in the afternoon on The-N. I was watching them today and I still always find my gut wrenching whenever Robbie's usually benign messages about being yourself take a militant turn or when Lily embarrasses herself on stage at Mickey's. I laugh when Parker quotes Nanny Haynes. I root for Travis and Ray and really, really hope they succeed in their romantic pursuits. I smile when I watch this fucking show! It's the television equivalent of listening to Pirouette. Come watch with me?
Other news:
Hung out with Liz and Emily and Emily's cousin Hope Sunday and it was super, throwback, sophomore year kinda fun. Driving back to Oxford with them listening to Andrew W.K. superfun.
Today I picked up Caitlin and that girl... puts a spell on men! Caitlin, I'm pretty sure you are blessed with the power to make any man fall in love with you. Then we went to the park for Kelly's Peru isjawn and Sarah's Guatemala (?) ishjawn... I didn't take any pictures, but it was hot sweaty stuff your face delight. John was wearing a Rites of Spring shirt and I find myself listening to them now... I love that our taste in music doesn't entirely overlap so we share new things with each other. It's strictly heterosexual. I have trouble memorizing the lyrics to his songs and for that I am sorry. I hope you are better than I am at such things. Practice makes perfect.
Dis
I just... I just don't know why this girl is so bad. Like, maybe I shouldn't be critiquing someone else's work when I'm not even close to being an established writer but... her pieces are awful. Redundant. Cluttered. Lacking flow/much sense. Here's a link to all the stuff she published this year.
I feel bad. But it makes me want to write even more and especially to write well, so I'm going to find within me an entry for tomorrow.
I feel bad. But it makes me want to write even more and especially to write well, so I'm going to find within me an entry for tomorrow.
6.6.08
Can I look at faces that I meet? Can I get my punk ass off the street?
So I just did several victory leaps (I guess?) up my driveway.
Should we recount?
I wrote my last entry after my last day of high school and since then I've been swimming laps in uncertainty (the pool opened memorial day weekend). The "Killer Questions" I wrote about in my first article for the Review this year were getting to me and you know how I am with everything: I'm just not ready. For anything. Ever.
I told everyone I was excited but then realized that was a lie. Then I told everyone I was excited but immediately followed that by admitting I was lying and was completely unsure of how to feel. At graduation practice, they taught us how to stand at length with our arms behind our backs, how to sit in unison, how to clap, that this was going to look really, really nice if we could just make sure to watch when the speakers place their hands on the podium, but yeah, I didn't learn what to feel. Wednesday morning after the last practice (but before picking up our tuxes because the line was so fucking long,) Frank, Kyle, Garrett and I went to Five Guys (11 sharp) and it didn't feel like the end. Actually, it kind of just felt awkward because I had just let myself into Schlaz's car on their way out of the lot so I think I was seen, about 50 percent of the time, as an uninvited guest. Until Garrett offered to pay for my burger and Frank and I got our kicks using the empty fry cups to steal soda. Then I knew shit was going to be aiiiiight.
Last night was Baccalaureate mass and for those not in the know (most) that's just a stupid name for a graduation mass. There's really not much to say about it except whenever I saw a woman crying I thought "stop crying, it's unnecessary."
We went to Buckley's for dinner afterwards. Pulling into the parking lot I saw someone tall, gangly and short-haired who could only be Tim McConnell and it was. Tim did a lot for me as a person freshman and sophomore year. He and Shawn were really close and I can't help but think Shawn's weirdness began with his friendship with Tim. Shawn though spiraled needlessly out of control and what really disappointed me last night was, after transferring to Warren Wilson with Shawn, Tim's become the same way. I got a hug and then some weird Shawn-esque maxims and that was that. My stupidly excited "Tim McConnell?!," issued from the window of our moving car, was put to shame by some quiet congratulations and barely formed sentences.
I took off work all day today and it was so nice. Because that place is just getting insane some days. So I got nearly 12 hours of sleep (9:30 to 9) and told Anna all about it when we went to West Chester (refreshingly early at 11:40). It was all I wanted to do before I graduate, just do something cool and kinda normal and not Salesianum oriented. I blew all the money I cashed from my check on records again. The Mad Platter is kind of overpriced but I don't care, it was all money well-spent. On vinyl I got Surfer Rosa ("Vamos" was the last song I listened to as a high schooler and it sounds so fucking good on my stereo) and Elliott Smith (I spent a good chunk of my afternoon listening to this, worrying, fretting and trying to finish Trainspotting,) then the new No Age and a used copy of the Magnetic Fields' Distortion (both totally awesome and kinda what my ears needed) on compact disc and the Amy Winehouse DVD I asked for for my birthday but didn't get.
Yeah, I spent a lot of the time between returning home and leaving again wallowing. It wasn't for nil but graduation actually turned out to be pretty cool. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Taken in black and white, fittingly, you know for the timelessness of the memories or some bullshit.
Ian and Will
Kyke Schlaaazzzz (not shitty.)
Let's do this Nick.
This was kind of unexpected.
BFF Three
Ahhhh Driz, you're wiil'in.
Slaugherhouse Salesianum. Nah, just kidding. It felt kind of cool, our teachers were lined up on either side of the hallway egging us on and giving us the requisite Michelle-Barack pound.
Murph (lower left) is going to West Point.
Oh Shit, go time.
Bird's eye. This was up in the bleachers, in the midst of applause for someone. It's a pretty good picture of what the whole night was like. After we all stood, I pulled out my camera and snapped it worrying all the while someone thought I had reached for a weapon.
Geoff was always really good to me even though he didn't have to and was pretty much the must well-known kid in the universe.
There's this tradition that after graduation, we all smoke cigars on the school steps. So we did that.
T-boneeee!!
Mimi, get in here.
Another unexpected bunch. Horace is black as night.
Barker is one of my favorites.
St. Patrick's.
It's easy to look cool next to Lou.
This was before we set the school on fire. Not.
Frank and Christian, thank you so much for always being my friends. This was pre-last Newpie session of high school.
Yeah, so that's that. I actually got a diploma which I honestly was not expecting at all because I didn't complete something that was very, very required of me. I'm not even going to mention it here for fear of the obsessive Googling on the part of Sallies' PR Dude Pete will turn up this blog and turn over my diploma. I even got a fucking award. They didn't tell me of this award beforehand. In fact, I didn't even know it existed. Well they give out awards you the sciences, you know, maths all that shit. Jason Patterson Dan Kowal very big deal shit. Every passing second, every award "merited" I was like, "ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks..." Then, though, comes The Blah Blah Blah award for Excellence in Journalism and I get a nudge from Frank (whom I'm really glad I got to sit next to) and I expect to hear my name. I heard it, I got the gold fucking medal. Holy shit! I don't get awards, friend, I don't I don't. But this was cool. I mean, my grandparents got to see this shit. And maybe I pissed off Kowal and them (they all have bad haircuts anyway.) We filed out later, chatted. We went to different rooms to get our diplomas (we don't actually walk). Fittingly I had to go to the Library where I probably spent most of my time (and money paying back fucking fines, hah) and even more fitting, Mrs. Diemer handed me my diploma. I gave her a big hug and thanked her so much for everything. I told Ms. Orga that I'm not good with numbers but pretty good with words. Told Mr. Losapio again where I was going. I know most don't, but I really like that guy a whole lot.
I ended the night driving around with Christian in the batmobile, sans top. It smelled like honeysuckles and I accidentally stole a mint milkshake from Wawa.
Should we recount?
I wrote my last entry after my last day of high school and since then I've been swimming laps in uncertainty (the pool opened memorial day weekend). The "Killer Questions" I wrote about in my first article for the Review this year were getting to me and you know how I am with everything: I'm just not ready. For anything. Ever.
I told everyone I was excited but then realized that was a lie. Then I told everyone I was excited but immediately followed that by admitting I was lying and was completely unsure of how to feel. At graduation practice, they taught us how to stand at length with our arms behind our backs, how to sit in unison, how to clap, that this was going to look really, really nice if we could just make sure to watch when the speakers place their hands on the podium, but yeah, I didn't learn what to feel. Wednesday morning after the last practice (but before picking up our tuxes because the line was so fucking long,) Frank, Kyle, Garrett and I went to Five Guys (11 sharp) and it didn't feel like the end. Actually, it kind of just felt awkward because I had just let myself into Schlaz's car on their way out of the lot so I think I was seen, about 50 percent of the time, as an uninvited guest. Until Garrett offered to pay for my burger and Frank and I got our kicks using the empty fry cups to steal soda. Then I knew shit was going to be aiiiiight.
Last night was Baccalaureate mass and for those not in the know (most) that's just a stupid name for a graduation mass. There's really not much to say about it except whenever I saw a woman crying I thought "stop crying, it's unnecessary."
We went to Buckley's for dinner afterwards. Pulling into the parking lot I saw someone tall, gangly and short-haired who could only be Tim McConnell and it was. Tim did a lot for me as a person freshman and sophomore year. He and Shawn were really close and I can't help but think Shawn's weirdness began with his friendship with Tim. Shawn though spiraled needlessly out of control and what really disappointed me last night was, after transferring to Warren Wilson with Shawn, Tim's become the same way. I got a hug and then some weird Shawn-esque maxims and that was that. My stupidly excited "Tim McConnell?!," issued from the window of our moving car, was put to shame by some quiet congratulations and barely formed sentences.
I took off work all day today and it was so nice. Because that place is just getting insane some days. So I got nearly 12 hours of sleep (9:30 to 9) and told Anna all about it when we went to West Chester (refreshingly early at 11:40). It was all I wanted to do before I graduate, just do something cool and kinda normal and not Salesianum oriented. I blew all the money I cashed from my check on records again. The Mad Platter is kind of overpriced but I don't care, it was all money well-spent. On vinyl I got Surfer Rosa ("Vamos" was the last song I listened to as a high schooler and it sounds so fucking good on my stereo) and Elliott Smith (I spent a good chunk of my afternoon listening to this, worrying, fretting and trying to finish Trainspotting,) then the new No Age and a used copy of the Magnetic Fields' Distortion (both totally awesome and kinda what my ears needed) on compact disc and the Amy Winehouse DVD I asked for for my birthday but didn't get.
Yeah, I spent a lot of the time between returning home and leaving again wallowing. It wasn't for nil but graduation actually turned out to be pretty cool. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Taken in black and white, fittingly, you know for the timelessness of the memories or some bullshit.
Ian and Will
Kyke Schlaaazzzz (not shitty.)
Let's do this Nick.
This was kind of unexpected.
BFF Three
Ahhhh Driz, you're wiil'in.
Slaugherhouse Salesianum. Nah, just kidding. It felt kind of cool, our teachers were lined up on either side of the hallway egging us on and giving us the requisite Michelle-Barack pound.
Murph (lower left) is going to West Point.
Oh Shit, go time.
Bird's eye. This was up in the bleachers, in the midst of applause for someone. It's a pretty good picture of what the whole night was like. After we all stood, I pulled out my camera and snapped it worrying all the while someone thought I had reached for a weapon.
Geoff was always really good to me even though he didn't have to and was pretty much the must well-known kid in the universe.
There's this tradition that after graduation, we all smoke cigars on the school steps. So we did that.
T-boneeee!!
Mimi, get in here.
Another unexpected bunch. Horace is black as night.
Barker is one of my favorites.
St. Patrick's.
It's easy to look cool next to Lou.
This was before we set the school on fire. Not.
Frank and Christian, thank you so much for always being my friends. This was pre-last Newpie session of high school.
Yeah, so that's that. I actually got a diploma which I honestly was not expecting at all because I didn't complete something that was very, very required of me. I'm not even going to mention it here for fear of the obsessive Googling on the part of Sallies' PR Dude Pete will turn up this blog and turn over my diploma. I even got a fucking award. They didn't tell me of this award beforehand. In fact, I didn't even know it existed. Well they give out awards you the sciences, you know, maths all that shit. Jason Patterson Dan Kowal very big deal shit. Every passing second, every award "merited" I was like, "ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks..." Then, though, comes The Blah Blah Blah award for Excellence in Journalism and I get a nudge from Frank (whom I'm really glad I got to sit next to) and I expect to hear my name. I heard it, I got the gold fucking medal. Holy shit! I don't get awards, friend, I don't I don't. But this was cool. I mean, my grandparents got to see this shit. And maybe I pissed off Kowal and them (they all have bad haircuts anyway.) We filed out later, chatted. We went to different rooms to get our diplomas (we don't actually walk). Fittingly I had to go to the Library where I probably spent most of my time (and money paying back fucking fines, hah) and even more fitting, Mrs. Diemer handed me my diploma. I gave her a big hug and thanked her so much for everything. I told Ms. Orga that I'm not good with numbers but pretty good with words. Told Mr. Losapio again where I was going. I know most don't, but I really like that guy a whole lot.
I ended the night driving around with Christian in the batmobile, sans top. It smelled like honeysuckles and I accidentally stole a mint milkshake from Wawa.
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