I'm So Fucking Happy I Can Be Here With My Friends

It's funny how college is nothing like orientation. I rarely see Julie or Brianne or Boog and Anna never hangs out... haha, but it doesn't matter. Philaelphia might be the new Kennett Square. The other night, I sat out in front of Johnson and Hardwick with a bunch of kids that I've fallen in with (probably because most of us wear flannel/plaid, glasses and go to shows) on a patch of grass. We talked and I pulled the grass out from the ground... kinda like home, outside Michocana. I guess I'm comfortable now.

I've only been listening to the Death Set for twenty four hours but I couldn't be more excited to see them next month.



Chicago again this weekend. The first Gallagher wedding in an age. It should be... wild.







One day, Chicago might be the new Philadelphia.

What Would Jesus Not Do?

I went to an advance screening of Choke tonight. I used to really like Chuck Palahniuk in, I guess, freshman year. I read all his books and fell for all the twists and was grossed out but in love with the simplicity of the punches he delivered with every self-loathing sentence. I got over it though. "Shock value." You must've heard me say it a thousand times. But anyway, the chance came up for me to go to this screening and I thought why not. The movie was pretty good. I might like it better than the book. But that could just be because I'm a hater. The dialogue was a little forced. Sam Rockwell is good at playing a creep. Kelly Macdonald (sp?) was great as usual. She might've been my favorite part of No Country For Old Men and she's so weird/sexy in Trainspotting. The main beef I have though, with the book and the movie, is the whole choking thing. I could never see myself being compelled to send someone money periodically just because I saved their life. It's kind of typical of Chuck P, these ridiculous situations. Like if my Wilmington apartment blew up, I wouldn't think of calling Tyler Durden and moving in with him at some shitty Paper Street squat. The problem is, all his books rely on something like that. But I digress. I got to ask him a question which was kind of cool. I was sitting right up front. He mentioned that he had optioned all of his books at this point to be adapted into screenplays. Pretty much I wanted to know how he felt about letting them go out to become another person's monster. He's pretty cool about it. So there.

The Greatest of All Time

I took about ten years off my face just a little while ago. But the chest... well, that's some other beast entirely.

I called Chris Dawson. He lives at 1300 and rides this hot, shiny Bianchi Pista fixed gear. I want to copy him. But I'm going to do it over winter break and paint the frame so he doesn't really know. I hope we start riding together once a week. We did last week and I guess tomorrow we're off to Old City so I can get my record fix. I'm going to have the balls to ask if they are hiring anythime soon. I know this.

Saturday, after I bore witness to what Scotty Leitch himself proclaimed as the best Pirouette show ever, we went over to his brother Anth's cramped studio apartment. I guess his girlfriend is a total bitch. After about eight of us sat down on the floor of the living area, she got kind of mad. But then, Anth and Scotty played Archers of Loaf's "Greatest of All Time." It was beautiful. I guess it's kind of Anth's story. I hope he keeps his shit together and keeps making records. About A Million is probably the most well-written music of anyone I've ever known and Spit on a Stranger should be no different. Plus, they're named after the best Pavement song. Or maybe the one that relates most to me. Have a listen:


I'm suddenly compelled to tell you about Arthur. I met Arthur on the train to Haverford for that Titus show a week+ ago. He has an Elliott Smith XO tattoo on his hand. According to him, I'm only the second person to ever guess that. Then, Friday night I saw him at the Mogwai show (fucking loud and awesome by the way.) He was really there to see Fuck Buttons. The week before we was really just there to see openers Crystal Stilts. Arthur likes openers and is a cool guy. I hope I encounter him again... Mimi, you'd probably really like him. Oh and Mimi, before I forget again, Aaron Smuts (fave proffesor status omg omg) is like the Northeast's answer to Brian Walters.

At College,

no one emails you back. Not newspaper editors, not professors, not whoever's in charge of internships at Magnet...

All This Leverage Kills

I managed to forget my laptop charger, phone charger, keys for my bike lock and room, Microphones-The Glow Part Two (the CD only, so now I have this fancy K Records artwork to admire...) Yesterday, I brought home my camera but forgot the SD card, so my mom couldn't take cute pictures of Vlad and I this morning. My laptop is going to die in an hour or so. My phone probably won't. I have extra bike keys so it's locked onto (MY FUCKING!!) signpost. Safe and sound. Tomorrow my dad and I trade Visa cards for those chargers and maybe another lunch. I like that I get to see my dad a lot. Sometimes I don't think he's okay with me.

We met Chris Matthews Saturday somewhere near Walnut and Broad. He asked me all these questions about my school that I didn't know the answer to... Haha, do not want to talk about it, but he said he'd take me as an intern. He might be teaching at Temple next year because he's moving back into the area to run for state senate in 2010. Nice guy.

I can't stop listening to Pavement. Two-hundred fifteen+ plays on last.fm this week...

Ugh

I have diarrhea... again.

Fillmore Jive

Do have those times when you wave to someone and they don't see you so you just look like an asshole? They exist at college in abundance.

First Piece for the Temple News?

Titus Andronicus should be the biggest band in the world right now. They have the requisite critical praise and newfound status as college graduates that brought Vampire Weekend a heap of success just a few months ago. But, instead of Saturday Night Live, Titus Andronicus is still playing basements. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I saw them in one September 12 (Haverford College's Lunt Hall to be exact,) and it was nothing short of a spectacle. Like any basement show, it was cramped and people were sweaty but the music ascended to somewhere just over the treetops. Titus' schtick can be described as something like this: manic joy, dissent, anguish, neglect, and senseless debauchery fermented for as long as men have been put down by other men. That's just the lyrics. The guitars, drowning in distortion and reverb, often enter My Bloody Valentine/Galaxie 500 terrirtory and the keyboards shout Springsteen. If it weren't for the drums it'd be a huge, shoegazing mess. These are all good things, exectued flawlessly by five, often drunk, Jersey kids. But the show itself. It's hard to describe without staying focused on the crowd rather than the band because by the middle of every song, most of us found ourselves occupying the same space as Patrick Stickles and crew. They didn't mind, really. Band and audience were one for the better part of the show, screaming the same words about "laughter and loss" ("Joset of Nazareth Blues,") lack of a future ("No Future Pt. 1,") suburban existentialism ("Albert Camus,") and so on. It was beautiful, it was absurd, possibly more nihilistically-Nietzsche than what's-the-use-in-caring-Camus. Now that they're done their studies, they're touring relentlessly. Go see this band. Talk to them and please ask them for advice.

Today

I gave up on innocence. I stopped watching TV news. I stopped watching TV in general except episodes of Dawson's Creek on DVD and Weeds OnDemand. I said fuck this stupid election. I realized that the only reason people ask if you're registered to vote is to get you to vote for Barack. I guess he's ok. But isn't McCain just ok too? Doesn't that suck? Apathetic. Better things to care about. Olde English. Books. The Stranger. Bikes. Hanging out with Scotty Leitch every day. The new CH. Records. Pavement reissues. Getting the balls to ask for a job at Repo Records.

Also, I gave up on immortality. Given the choice: would you rather die or have your memory completely wiped, get dropped in the Mission District of San Francisco and lead a completely new life, not the one you were leading as ______? Well, I'm kind of indifferent. Either way, Joe Gallagher as we know it is dead. Aaron Smuts, thanks for showing me the light.

From Southern Trees

Today in Intellectual History-1 with Dr. Aaron Smuts (my favorite class, by the way), I realized the main difference between college and high school so far. In class discussions, you go off on tangents... but they actually mean something. For example, we had to read this thing on immortality for Smuts today. We didn't discuss the reading as much as we discussed immortality in general and different scenarios where it might be desirable (there's all of like, one.) If this were Mr. Longo's English class last year, it'd be a different story. "So what'd you fellas read last night?" "Wait, wait, Mr. Longo have you ever seen ______!?" And on and on for fifty-two increasingly more disheartening and cynicism-inducing minutes. Thinking about it though, Intellectual History might be the exception. My journalism class, sadly, is a joke. George Miller is a great professor and his writing is, fuck, "legit." But the kids in the class are far from... Everyone pretty much wants to talk about their life story and ends up saying the same thing as the person that spoke before them. Like, listen, maybe?

First day, discussion; "what is journalism?" People magazine. Is it journalism?

Simple answer, yes. It disseminates information to human beings. But everyone decided to raise their hand and say exactly that along with some kind of catch. The two catches were, like, but it's base and but it sucks, pretty much. I don't know why fifty kids decided to repeat each other for a half hour. Whatever. So, college: half-legit. And I'm involved. But she doesn't go here. But she's been one of my best friends since freshman year. Just thought that you should know.

I Haven't Even Finished Writing Thank-You-Notes to Physical Beings Yet

June, you're a lifesaver.  I thought if I spent anymore time in that single-sex day to day drudgery they called my high school, I would off myself.  Sure, there were some aspects of it that were redeeming but I'm so done with talking about them.  I graduated.  It's over.  You brought me full-time work (again) which was fun; Matt and Sara are totally bearable.  Special shout-out to September for taking care of Bill.  Bill, fuck you.  Anyway, then there was the grad party which was a success for a few reasons.  I got a lot of money, I guess that's cool.  But more than that I realized once again what an amazing, huge and amazingly huge and loving family I have.  I guess I've done well when it comes to being surrounded by good people.  That was proved further the following week when you took my closest friends and myself camping.  We didn't drive each other crazy and the heat was bearable.  There were some excellent people that decided to camp too... stereotype-defying West Virginians and a teacher that helped Alex fulfill a (n illegal) dream.  

July, thanks for keeping me occupied more than anything.  Oh, and the hot weather! Shit rules.  You made seeing No Age perfect.  If it hadn't been so hot as to compel me to take my shirt off, well... I don't think I would have become the center of attention like I did.  It was great.  Then, Chicago, wow...  What a great place to be in the middle of the fucking summer.  You made the lake rival the Atlantic Ocean.  Pitchfork was a blast, also.  It's marvelous how everyone's tour schedule worked out so that the best bands ended up in Chicago during the same July weekend.  I'm kinda sorry I decided to schedule my orientation on your way out...  I had someone I needed to say more goodbyes to.  Then you whisked me off to North Carolina which was great as usual but it was kinda premature.  Lots of unfinished business this summer, not enough time.  But I'm thankful for what I got in...

August.  Like I said North Carolina was great but I had places to be which isn't usually the case.  Last hurrahs with my best friends, the best friends.  We made a hit record.  You inspired me to be something more, to go outside and savor the summer air (+ leaves, humidity, freedom...,) to not use so many bar chords and to write an actual chorus, to stick to a book, to go to as many shows as I wanted to in the course of a week.  Your soundtrack was Titus Andronicus and I couldn't think of anything more perfect; simultaneously, it was anguished, frantic, happy to the point of tears admidst a world so FUCKED.  School?  Click tracks?  Moving away?  Being too nice to people?  I can't take it sometimes.  This world is so fucked and summer is all I have.  I mean there's always friends and good times but usually they have to be confined within a schedule, within a weekend, within cliques...  You took all that away.  You made everything perfect in 2008, thanks a lot, I'll miss you.