This story I've been following has, I guess, reached a kind-of conclusion.
From the story, by Philadelphia Inquirer staff writers Mari A. Schaefer, Nancy Phillips, and Tom Infield:
"A classmate at Interboro Senior High School who was with the girls in the moments before they died told police that she, too, had intended to take her life. The girl said she and Gentile had left school at 9:30 a.m. and walked to the Norwood station. Dorwart sent them a text message, asking her friends to wait for her to join them, the girl told police, who declined to release her name.
'Hurry up, the train is coming,' the girl replied via text message. 'We missed the first one.'
As the train approached and its whistle blew, the girl said, Gentile stepped onto the tracks. Dorwart followed.
The girl said she had screamed at her friends to get off the tracks.
Ignoring her pleas, Gentile and Dorwart embraced and were struck by the train."
Something so eerie about picturing them embracing on the tracks of the NEC... probably won't be able to shake that image for awhile. Especially speeding past Norwood on my way home next Thursday. It sucks. One of those "Life gets better, just trust me." situations.
28.2.10
27.2.10
Internal Citations
My friend Zac Magnum (real name withheld) runs a great blog called the Styrofoam Drone and a little over a week ago posted an album by a band called the Library of Congress.
You may listen to it and think, "Wow, this is fucking awesome." You may be surprised that this band with a fairly anonymous name borrowed from the intellectual center of our nation's capital put out a great record you never heard. You will swallow that surprise when you learn it was a band featuring future members of Titus Andronicus. "This band features future members of Titus Andronicus? Well, then!"
The album, quite Titus-ly called Writings on the Human Condition, is just as riddled with suburban discontent and other problems of the educated, white, male middle-class as the first Titus Andronicus record. You come for the angst, sure, but you stay for the collaborative feel of the songs. Andrew Cedermark and Patrick Stickles worked side by side (presumably) in Library of Congress. One stops singing and the other starts. Patrick screams, Andrew recites, thoughtfully. "Internal Citations" features the same running lead guitar-playing that makes "No Future Pt. 2: The Day After No Future" a perfect song to drive to. Lyrically, there's a bit more sentimentalism to counter the nihilism.
"Citations" begins with laments: that kids will now be able to "throw away cassettes and CDs," and after 2002, Andrew Cedermark will "never see another palindromic year."
"Sometimes when I'm feeling lonely, I imagine myself as the master of my own destiny and that's happened a lot since my secret crush, she went back to Germany... but as long as I can get back to you, we can steal 'For Sale' signs along the avenue. For all the sausage in Berlin, there's nothing I'd rather do!" Is it weird that I wonder who this is about? Every time I listen to this song, the scene plays out in my head. A breezy Jersey afternoon, picket fences, a station wagon, a tape. HAHA THAT WAS SO FUCKING PRECIOUS OK SNAP-TO.
Los Campesinos! just announced the rest of the dates for their American tour. I'm not surprised they're skipping Philadelphia. I don't know why I don't hate them. They're probably blowing us off because R5 wouldn't give them a big enough guarantee and having them play the TLA last March was sort of a joke (Patrick and Ian Graetzer were there.) Or do I only think that because I'm young and fun can only be had in small spaces without the involvement of thirtysomethings that heard about the show from XPN? I don't know Gareth, I would think it would be gratifying to see how affecting "i just sighed. i just sighed..." is. I'll never forget what a dreadful experience that TLA show was. People trying to make me feel like singing at a show is absolutely uncalled for behavior. I didn't know my babysitter was coming.
"i just sighed. i just sighed..." is the sound of all the weight coming down on me when I realize that I have mised x *********** classes or that I was the only one that didn't want me to apply to London or that maybe getting a ticket to P4K Sunday was a bad idea because everyone thinks I'm an idiot who is broke. It's the sound of me wishing I could take back my stupid "And will you talk to my zine?" @tedleo because he talked to about 100 billion zines 10 years ago and definitely doesn't want to do it again at a punk house to some kid who definitely does not fit in there. It's the sound of me wishing that punk houses in the city were more like parents' houses in the suburbs.
You may listen to it and think, "Wow, this is fucking awesome." You may be surprised that this band with a fairly anonymous name borrowed from the intellectual center of our nation's capital put out a great record you never heard. You will swallow that surprise when you learn it was a band featuring future members of Titus Andronicus. "This band features future members of Titus Andronicus? Well, then!"
The album, quite Titus-ly called Writings on the Human Condition, is just as riddled with suburban discontent and other problems of the educated, white, male middle-class as the first Titus Andronicus record. You come for the angst, sure, but you stay for the collaborative feel of the songs. Andrew Cedermark and Patrick Stickles worked side by side (presumably) in Library of Congress. One stops singing and the other starts. Patrick screams, Andrew recites, thoughtfully. "Internal Citations" features the same running lead guitar-playing that makes "No Future Pt. 2: The Day After No Future" a perfect song to drive to. Lyrically, there's a bit more sentimentalism to counter the nihilism.
"Citations" begins with laments: that kids will now be able to "throw away cassettes and CDs," and after 2002, Andrew Cedermark will "never see another palindromic year."
"Sometimes when I'm feeling lonely, I imagine myself as the master of my own destiny and that's happened a lot since my secret crush, she went back to Germany... but as long as I can get back to you, we can steal 'For Sale' signs along the avenue. For all the sausage in Berlin, there's nothing I'd rather do!" Is it weird that I wonder who this is about? Every time I listen to this song, the scene plays out in my head. A breezy Jersey afternoon, picket fences, a station wagon, a tape. HAHA THAT WAS SO FUCKING PRECIOUS OK SNAP-TO.
Los Campesinos! just announced the rest of the dates for their American tour. I'm not surprised they're skipping Philadelphia. I don't know why I don't hate them. They're probably blowing us off because R5 wouldn't give them a big enough guarantee and having them play the TLA last March was sort of a joke (Patrick and Ian Graetzer were there.) Or do I only think that because I'm young and fun can only be had in small spaces without the involvement of thirtysomethings that heard about the show from XPN? I don't know Gareth, I would think it would be gratifying to see how affecting "i just sighed. i just sighed..." is. I'll never forget what a dreadful experience that TLA show was. People trying to make me feel like singing at a show is absolutely uncalled for behavior. I didn't know my babysitter was coming.
"i just sighed. i just sighed..." is the sound of all the weight coming down on me when I realize that I have mised x *********** classes or that I was the only one that didn't want me to apply to London or that maybe getting a ticket to P4K Sunday was a bad idea because everyone thinks I'm an idiot who is broke. It's the sound of me wishing I could take back my stupid "And will you talk to my zine?" @tedleo because he talked to about 100 billion zines 10 years ago and definitely doesn't want to do it again at a punk house to some kid who definitely does not fit in there. It's the sound of me wishing that punk houses in the city were more like parents' houses in the suburbs.
26.2.10
I'm trying to figure out how to connect my love for Los Campesinos! and Dave Eggers into some kind of combo short essay/review. I think they're definitely "birds of a feather:" sincerity, word vomit, critically polarizing. Looking at this piece from The Awl yesterday for some inspiration: Dave Eggers, Wyndham Lewis and Hate
22.2.10
A true story
Just dealt with a dreadful woman. She is a graduate student here. She smelled awful. Like my own body odor. Likely in her late-20s but looks fit to be dating my grandfather (but he has much better taste.) Condescending attitude about my ability to enter data. Totally incapable of giving me clear direction but I've figured it out anyway. She won't realize it but her contracting this busy work to me clashes with her and her team's post-collegiate socialist ideology. Disgusting band aid on her finger, edges curling, making me turn my head and gag. I still have that gagging feeling, hence the brusque tone of this entry. The band aid finger was her mouse-clicking finger. I have since drenched the mouse in hand sanitizer. I still don't know how to calculate market equilibrium and that is more important to me than her hundreds of inane guide-use surveys.
16.2.10
Research
Papers/research I want to publish one day:
Pop Music Fragmentation and the Death of the "Event Band"
Never Made Jenkem: Delinquency Amplification Spiral
Black, Irish, Heavy Metal: The Identity Politics of Phil Lynnott and Thin Lizzy
Pop Music Fragmentation and the Death of the "Event Band"
Never Made Jenkem: Delinquency Amplification Spiral
Black, Irish, Heavy Metal: The Identity Politics of Phil Lynnott and Thin Lizzy
15.2.10
I Hate the Taste of Coffee on Your Breath
My personal favorite (and thus indisputably the best) Los Campesinos! songs are the not-immediately-satisfying-but-eventually-life-affirming and slow-building, more dynamic ones. These are the ones even my sister loves! Rather than throwing the listener in the middle of some break up with a glockenspiel and a wall of guitars, the more dynamic Campesinos! tracks ease into the proceedings. You will get a keyboard. Then, a steady drumbeat. Bass, guitar. Finally, a glock and vox. All so melodic and complementary of one another, like "In Media Res" or "This is how you spell..." At half speed, Gareth sounds less desperate and more likably pleading. "In Media Res"'s opening lyric, "Let's talk about you for a minute..." has been getting lots of attention. I think it's a good fit for one of their most interesting songs. The opener of their most interesting, best, accomplished, whatever album yet. I think Romance is Boring is their best because it's a dynamic album filled with dynamic songs... unlike their (still fucking brilliant) debut which is more like a series of post-breakup slaps in the face.
Wise words in today's AV Club/Valentine's Day
"I hate Woodstock. There is the birth of one of the most destructive myths shoved down the throats of Generations X and Y ever, that this thing that happened in 1969 is the best thing that ever happened in pop music and nothing you’ll ever experience in your lives, pathetic young ones, is ever going to be as good." - Jim DeRogatis
DeRogatis was talking to the AV Club today about the 11 worst rock movies and hit some good points when talking about Wooodstock. I have to agree. The same "music fans" that Christian and I have always maligned for "liking everything, dude" are the ones who go crazy for the Woodstock myth.
Valentine's Day with Miles, Kara and Mimi was a blast. We went to Pizza by Elizabeth's (which I hadn't been to in at least three years) for dinner. I was initially really turned off by that idea. I don't like how they elevate pizza on a gourmet pedestal. Anyone that knows me knows that I love pizza. Actually, anyone between the ages of 16-22 that would ever want to deal with me loves pizza as well. But I don't like when someone takes pizza out of the hands of the common man and makes it 9.25-11 dollars for an 8-inch pie. You can get a slice of pizza that's 8-inches wide and 12-inches long at Lorenzo's for 3 bucks. I balk at the prices at Elizabeth's but the flavor delivers despite leaving an enormous hole in my belly and pocket. I hope their claimed use of locally sourced ingredients is true.
Then we saw Valentine's Day. Ha. I loved Mimi's optimism: "There are so many good people in it! How could it be bad?" Topher Grace makes her swoon. It was an optimism I missed, spending time with so many jaded film majors (and becoming a jaded, amateur film dork myself.) Mimi and I do have a habit of enjoying terrible movies together like Twilight and we were supposed to go see Dear John last week but she couldn't wait for me. Out of a BOUQUET of plots, Topher and (weirdly) Anne Hathway's was the most enjoyable. She's a (SPOILER!!) phone sex operator and Topher freaks out but then gets over it because that's actually a really funny occupation for someone you are dating to have. There was a lot of really tactless gags, obviously thrown in at the last minute punch up the script. A mentally challenged girl in a wheel chair babbling about Ashton Kutcher running barefoot through the airport was definitely uncalled for. Not to get all Gabe Delahaye PC on you, it was just so unnecessary and something I wouldn't expect to see in even an Adam Sandler movie. And also not like I want to give this movie too much credit. Oh, shame on you, Valentine's Day! I expected so much more from you, Garry Marshall, creator of Pretty Woman, Raising Helen, and Georgia Rule! The movie left us all in a really good mood. I guess that was the ultimate goal.
Miles and I also might as well have burned the three dollars we spent on the arcade game, Tokyo Cop.
DeRogatis was talking to the AV Club today about the 11 worst rock movies and hit some good points when talking about Wooodstock. I have to agree. The same "music fans" that Christian and I have always maligned for "liking everything, dude" are the ones who go crazy for the Woodstock myth.
Valentine's Day with Miles, Kara and Mimi was a blast. We went to Pizza by Elizabeth's (which I hadn't been to in at least three years) for dinner. I was initially really turned off by that idea. I don't like how they elevate pizza on a gourmet pedestal. Anyone that knows me knows that I love pizza. Actually, anyone between the ages of 16-22 that would ever want to deal with me loves pizza as well. But I don't like when someone takes pizza out of the hands of the common man and makes it 9.25-11 dollars for an 8-inch pie. You can get a slice of pizza that's 8-inches wide and 12-inches long at Lorenzo's for 3 bucks. I balk at the prices at Elizabeth's but the flavor delivers despite leaving an enormous hole in my belly and pocket. I hope their claimed use of locally sourced ingredients is true.
Then we saw Valentine's Day. Ha. I loved Mimi's optimism: "There are so many good people in it! How could it be bad?" Topher Grace makes her swoon. It was an optimism I missed, spending time with so many jaded film majors (and becoming a jaded, amateur film dork myself.) Mimi and I do have a habit of enjoying terrible movies together like Twilight and we were supposed to go see Dear John last week but she couldn't wait for me. Out of a BOUQUET of plots, Topher and (weirdly) Anne Hathway's was the most enjoyable. She's a (SPOILER!!) phone sex operator and Topher freaks out but then gets over it because that's actually a really funny occupation for someone you are dating to have. There was a lot of really tactless gags, obviously thrown in at the last minute punch up the script. A mentally challenged girl in a wheel chair babbling about Ashton Kutcher running barefoot through the airport was definitely uncalled for. Not to get all Gabe Delahaye PC on you, it was just so unnecessary and something I wouldn't expect to see in even an Adam Sandler movie. And also not like I want to give this movie too much credit. Oh, shame on you, Valentine's Day! I expected so much more from you, Garry Marshall, creator of Pretty Woman, Raising Helen, and Georgia Rule! The movie left us all in a really good mood. I guess that was the ultimate goal.
Miles and I also might as well have burned the three dollars we spent on the arcade game, Tokyo Cop.
4.2.10
Isuzu
I think Temple students have a weird sense of pride about "shootings in North Philly," "right around campus." I think they like the novelty of it. Over spring break or at Easter dinner, they will catch up with relatives who will no doubt make a joke about wearing a bullet proof vest or dodging bullets on the way to class. The student will reflect, not with awe but with the wisdom only a college kid in the big city can possess. (This assumed wisdom is why I have removed myself from on-campus housing.) "It was right by my dorm! Sirens all night! Happens all the time! Crown Fried Chicken massacre!"
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