Over the past weekend, in between nursing myself to health (it’s not a big deal, a simple cold, I really haven’t meant to be all dramatic lately. Sorry.) I was able to fit in a good dinner with my Soph, my brother, and Pandy. In addition, I was able to go down and visit my grandma for her 92 birthday. We did much the same as we did last year. We brought a plant and a bunch of grub from Boston Chicken. Grandma loves her some Boston Chicken. She was a lot more active this year than last, which just amazes me. Fucking 92. I’ll be happy if circle that giant, exploding, luminary, central (in more ways than one) to our existence 70 times. She and my mom actually got a little chippy with each other and voices were raised. My mom apologized on the way home. I was just glad to see she had some fight in her. Actually, I’m glad to see there is some fight in them both.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a “here is what I did and this is how I feel about it post” so here goes: Nothing and very little.

It’s been a fairly stressful last week and a half and the lack of sleep combined with an emotional rollercoaster ground me down, and that has allowed the sickness to creeeeeep in. I took a couple days off work last week and have spent most of my recent evening laying on the couch and the switching over and laying in the other side of the couch, this, so I can breathe out of each of my nostrils alternatively. The last three or four nights I’ve gotten little sleep due to a persistent dry cough that throws me into REM shattering convulsions. Other than that I’m doing great though. I did go see the doctor today though. I normally wouldn’t go to the doctor for a mere cold, but this has gone on for over a week and I’m my sleep debt is increasing to a level I’m not comfortable with. He prescribed me some codeine lace cough syrup. I hope this helps. I also discussed with him this issue. He’s doing some blood work but suspects it’s my endocrine system, which has effectively failed me since I was 15 years old, and may be the reason for low blood sugar and also connected to why I’ve been getting sick so much lately.

Back in my LoFi days I stumbled upon Carissa’s Wierd (yes, “weird” is supposed to be misspelled, I’m not sure why, maybe just to trick people) and am glad I did. Carissa’s Wierd is a rainy day band that has fit my mood perfectly over the last week or two. I missed their last show in Denver this past summer, which sucks, because I was aware they were playing but I wasn’t aware of their (very well publicized) break up - I wouldn’t get the chance to see them live again.

Carissa’s Wierd can be described as lofi, orchestral, folky, pop. Their songs are slight and filigreed. I can relate to them in the way that they don’t command your attention as much as wait for you to notice them. Jenn Ghetto and Matthew Brooke’s boy/girl vocals once again sucker me in with their understated resonance. Musically the blend of acoustic and electric guitars combined with violin, piano, drums, bass, and occasional accordion all blend together into a breathtaking, intoxicating mess. But it’s best if you listen for yourself of course.

Carissa’ Wierd split up in July of 2003 leaving behind three LPs. Their latest album “Songs About Leaving” was released by Sad Robot Records and can be easily purchased from them. However, their first two releases, Ugly But Honest 1996-1999 and You Should Be At Home Here were released on the now defunct Brown Records. Sad Robot has announced reissues of these two albums last year but they have failed to materialize. This is where KHUBS Radio comes to the rescue. Since I started hubs radio, each episode I have provided you with at least a couple of songs that are out of print, rare, or hard to find. For the next week or so I’ll be playing entire Ugly But Honest 1996-1999 album, after that I’ll play the entire You Should Be At Home Here, And then I’ll play a live set. I’ll announce it here each time I change it. I kick off our session the way Carissa’s Wierd kicked off all they’re live shows - with a tune called Heather Rhodes. Enjoy!

I can’t remember the first time I met her. She had always just kind of been around - coming to my brother’s birthday parties in Jr. high and high school. I don’t even remember ever being introduced to her. I’ve always just known her. My earliest memories of her were of when I would go down to Durango to visit my brother in College. We would bump into her at parties or just hang out. A memorable time being when we ran into her and her mom while relaxing at the waterfall just outside of town. I remember developing a bit of a crush on her. Her natural almost hippyish looks, sly smile and freckles. She had a great attitude and seemed to be able to brighten everyone’s mood and accept anybody simply for who they were.

After college I got to see a lot more of her, though it was never really all that often, seeing as how she was now a school teacher living in Telluride. But she was always able to find reason to come up to Denver and visit. And I could occasionally find a reason to make it down to Telluride (see Thursday). At the WSP shows in Keystone she got me a t-shirt, it’s dark blue and has the word widespreadmuthafuckingpanic written in gothic letters across the front. It fits me perfect. This ended up being one of the most all around enjoyable days I had spent with her and I cherish the souvenir she got me to remember it by. I’ve got fond memories of keeping each other warm during a late night ride through the woods in the back of a pickup truck. Sharing a blanket and shivering. I remember at one of her many pool parties, the thrilled gasp I let out when she climbed to the tippy-top of the waterslide and dove off headfirst. In high school she was one of the cliff divers at Casa Bonita (only those of you in Denver can realize how incredibly cool that really is).

I can also remember the last time I saw her (though like a friend said this weekend, it was all the times before the last that get me). It was about three weeks ago, she was eating lunch on one of the outdoor patios on 16th Street with a friend. Having spied her, I went over to say hi and ask what she was doing in town (visiting her mom) and how long she would be in town for (a question that was somehow avoided). We quickly caught up and bantered, and I turned down an offer to join them for lunch because I had just gotten done with lunch myself and needed to head back to work. My last words to her were “enjoy your stay”. The prophecy of these last words makes me both smile and cry.

With foggy, blinking eyes and trembling fingers,
I’ll miss you Beth.

After work on Wednesday I and went and grabbed a bite to eat form Swing Thai. I brought it home and stuffed my face while watching the hockey game. The game lasted well into the evening seeing as how it went into double overtime. After the game I decided to head over to the hippy bar for a drink or two.

I was pretty down on the evening because I was being reclusive and shy, a condition that seems to compound itself on me. I did talk to some dude I met the other week who was just sitting there getting plastered. He claimed that the only reason he was getting drunk was so he could see if the chasers his brother gave him would really work. This seemed like a really lousy reason to sit there and get drunk until I realized I didn’t even have a reason as lame as that one. Talking to this guy just brought me down more. The evening picked up when a random stranger bought me a beer and the chaser dude left the seat next to me.

A girl took his seat and we proceeded to try and get the wave going around the bar. Which worked, with limited success, but was definitely more fun than successful. I got to talking to the girl next to me about books and literature and stuff and we hit it off pretty well. Before I knew the bar was closing so we decided to continue our conversation over breakfast. We headed over to Pete’s Kitchen where I had icecream and she had hashbrowns. I finally got home at around 3:30 which sucked because I had to work at 8:00. Wasn’t I just complaining about this kind of behavior last week? I never even got her name but it was a nice change to connect with a complete stranger.

(it was an enjoyable read, it would have got three stars but the ending was no good.)

I should start by pointing out that Rebbecca Ray was only 16 years old when she began writing Pure, and it shows. However, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Because the novel is about adolescence, Rebbecca Ray’s age while writing the novel keeps her closer to the subject matter. At the same time, her age often shows in her unpolished writing via some shallow characterization and a very poor ending. Pure is an admirable first effort for such a young writer and a decent cotton candy read but it is by no means a fantastic or important novel. I may have found this book more interesting than most due having enjoyed other, better novels with similar themes involving female adolescence.

Our unnamed narrator is a 14-year-old girl who is struggling desperately to find her place. She’s struggling to feel… anything at all, really. The story begins with what appears to be a relatively normal British kid with problems the typical problems of peer acceptance, minor family problems, and just wanting to grow up. As the story moves forward we find that our main characters life is more complicated and not nearly as normal as we first expected. The narrators emotional ambiguity and sad apathy seem tip prove the helplessness of adolescence. The uncertainty of how to judge what is happening to her seems to the most poignant and truthful theme in the novel and that also of our teenage years that provide so many new experiences. As thing in her life become more complicated, problems with her parents escalate. When her overbearing father and ineffectual mother fall further apart, their 14-year-old daughter begins dating a man over twice her age. She allows, then craves abusive relationships and before long her feelings of self-loathing become self-destructive: hurt becomes love, repulsion becomes sexy, and pain is part of fitting in.

This novel harbors very little joy and it’s not sensational or sentimental. But being along similar veins of Perks Of Being A Wall Flower and Kids, this book is interesting in that it is both fascinating and upsetting to look at how growing up has changed for the modern child. You wince for the girl in this book, but you also relate; remembering what it was like, having been in that cool basement, on that lumpy couch, wondering if they actually like you back or are just fumbling toward an incomprehensible and obscure maturity too.

Just a quick run down of my weekend. On Friday I went out to the local haunt. I grabbed a bit of dinner and watched the Avs playoff game. Afterwards I headed over to the hippy bar for a couple of drinks. Nothing exciting happened and I didn’t meet anyone interesting. A pretty boring night overall. Most of Saturday I spent lounging around relaxing and running a few errands. That night I went to a friends wedding shower, and watched a bunch of sports and Saturday night live. On Sunday I woke up early and met my dad and his girl along with her daughter, her husband, her husbands sister, and my brother and Pandy. We went to bunch at arrowhead and them came back and watched a couple of movies and more sports (masters tournament) and basically just sat there and digested the huge buffet we just devoured. Afterward, my brother, Pandy and I went to my moms where we did some household chores for her and she fixed a big ole traditional style thanksgiving dinner. Soon after eating I fell asleep in the lazyboy only to have to drive home in an April blizzard.

Despite being absolutely exhausted yesterday, when I got a call from my brother to join him and Pandy for sushi, I couldn’t resist. I don’t know that I have ever turned it down before. We went to Sushi Heights which is, in my opinion, the best sushi restaurant in town. After chowing down on a bunch of sushi B combination platters and sake we headed over to my brother’s to lay around and digest.

We caught part of The Swan which was really just a laugh. We only saw two contestants but all of us agreed that they may be slightly “prettier” after the “makeover” but they looked a lot more “attractive” before it. I think these shows are utterly abhorrent but somehow intriguing. And have you guys seen this show about the kids who are going through plastic surgery in order to look like somebody famous. The girl who wanted to look like Britney Spears already looked like Britney Spears, she just got bigger tits. Maybe I’m just old but this shit disturbs me. And now there’s this eyeball jewelry.

The I Am The World trade Center show last night was really enjoyable. The opening bands were the local The Very Hush Hush who were just ok. Nothing special really and they only played like 3 songs. The other opener was Paper Lions, they were pretty good, great rhythm (bass and drums) section. They sounded a bit like The Clash to me. You can listen to their entire album at there website if you’re interested. I Am The World Trade Center played a great set. They claimed the altitude here pooped them out but they danced through the entire night. They did a partial cover of Berlin’s “Metro”, a great cover of the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me” (a song near and dear to my heart - the album isn’t released yet but you can listen to it here) and for the encore they did a cover of New Order’s “Bizarre Love Triangle” at my screamed out request. I got to the lounge early hoping that it might actually start at a decent time. Unfortunately there was two opening bands and they didn’t even get on stage till 11:30. This, combined with hanging out with Dan and Amy and drinking beer all night. They are super smart (Dan’s an engineer and and Amy is getting her masters in costume history and teaches at the University of Georgia) and a fun couple to be around and I was glad I got a chance to meet them. It was a fun night over all. I just can’t handle going out till 2:30 a.m. on weeknights anymore. I’m exhausted.

I’ve been swamped at work again but I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. So I should be my normal slacker self again soon. A few things to keep you up to date on the happenings in my world:

I found some errors in my work yesterday at about 5 p.m. and stayed at work till ten o’ clock getting them fixed, in addition to skipping my lunch hour in order to make meetings. This made for a 14 hour day and possibly a new record. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t salaried.

I made out like a bandit on the market Monday and am getting close to recouping some of my losses incurred in ’03.

I’ve got a bunch of good shows lined up at a bunch of different venues in the future. Tonight it’s I Am The World Trade Center at the Larimer Lounge. Next week is Fantomas at the Fox Theatre (there is a good chance I won’t make this one cause it’s on a Wednesday in Boulder). Then at the end of the month Air is playing at The Gothic. On May first I may go see Andrew WK at Cervantes. And finally, at the end of the summer I’m going to see David Byrne play at the Botanic Gardens.

Last night when I got home I turned on the TV. The channel was already tuned to MTV so I watched TRL while changing out of my work clothes. They were having a spelling contest with a very attractive female who looked about 29 yrs old. The woman was a Jr High teacher who had to spell ghetto rap words like Xzibit, Eminem, and Big Boi. She wasn’t able to get any of them right. I thought to myself, “Hot damn, it’s nice to know that there are a few attractive women out their that are in my demographic, poor spellers, and still appreciate MTV.” Then she started talking about the kids that she taught at school and how these kids now filled up the typical, hysterical and screaming audience. It was then that I realized she was only there cause her students were there, and my hopes and dreams were shattered.

Lot’s of good sleep, good times, and an hour mysteriously taken away at midnight on Saturday seemed to make the weekend fly by.

I headed over to my brothers on Saturday where I found out that our kickball game this Friday was canceled due to rain. I wasn’t that bummed, I just hope there is a make up game. In lieu of sports, my brother and me decided to go out and drink beer and play pool. We had a good time messing with the freaks at the Streets of London and ended up closing down the bar despite our inability to win a single game of pool the entire night.

I woke up on Saturday and cleaned up the apartment a bit. Afterwards I went and met the boys out at Wynkoop for some more pool. All my guy friends are married and their wives were attending a baby shower. So naturally they called me to join they in there afternoon out. When the baby shower ended all of their cell phones started ringing at the same time and it was time to go. I walked home afterwards cause I live close buy.

I grabbed a burger on my way home and settled down to watch Dancer In The Dark. It was surprisingly good. I was already a fan of Bjork’s music (I don’t own any of her music but I like it) but was surprised by her acting ability. I’m usually not a fan of musicals but this one gets my recommendation. Not spectacular, but enjoyable.

On Sunday I unintentionally slept in not realizing it was daylight savings day. I spent the morning watching trashy MTV shows, doing laundry, and finishing my book. Later in the afternoon my brother came over to jump my car because I had inadvertently left the lights on the day before. After that I drove around the neighborhood for a while trying to recharge the battery and looking for houses for sale. Afterwards I met some friends a newly visited bar for dinner and a couple pitchers.

Give me more fun stuff. I want more fun stuff to take up my time. I don’t want all my time spent working. Watching American Idle, sleeping, polishing my shoes, mopping, and cooking frozen pizzas. I want fun. I’m having fun. But I want more of it. I want so much fun I can’t get my work done. I have no idea what all these American Idle entries that everyone’s posting are all about.¹ I’m constantly tired. Scuffed shoes, sticky floors and hungry.

I have a few things I want to do. It’s often just so hard to get started. And if they’re not fun, then they’re really hard to get started. Shit. Prioritizing is for sucks. Seriously. Prioritizing is for sucks and multi-tasking is for girls.²

But that’s OK.³ Whatev.

And mostly I wish I could think of something both cool and fun. And something that nobody has ever done before. And it would be really cool if nobody has even thought of doing it. I wonder if there is something, that I could do, that no person in the history of all time has ever thought of doing. Wait….don’t tell me. That would ruin it. Doing that would make me cool. And it would be Fun. Capital ‘F’ fun. Fucking fun kind of fun.

That’s what I want.⁴