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[May. 18th, 2012|01:27 am] |
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In the space of a few months, one of my closest friends over the last ten years and one of my all-time favorite musicians both came out as transgendered. It's strange that they'd happen so closely to one another, but it's been a good thing. It helps a little bit in my understanding of each case to have another to compare it to. As a punk and a liberal, I've always been pro-gay and pro-whatever, but the issue of changing gender or sex has always remained on the fringes, seldom understood and seldom considered. Being thrust into this position where I'm called upon to voice opinions has been a minor jolt, because in a lot of ways, it's forced me to form those opinions nearly from scratch. In the end, I'm happy for that, because as I'd suspected all along, my only opinion is that I support individuals' choices to do and be what they want. Past arguments I've heard or participated in, regarding the validity of subscribing to a gender binary, etc, hold ridiculously little weight against the idea of a human being happy and feeling authentic. We should all be so lucky. |
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| The Matt Guiggey (Guiggy?) Post of Redemption |
[Mar. 27th, 2012|02:38 pm] |
I have no way to contact you Matt Guiggey, so I'm posting in the medium that seems to get through to you. I had no idea my dead and stagnant livejournal was a blip on google's radar. However, I do take it seriously, so I deleted the earlier post, as per your request, but I wanted to clarify that post a little bit. It was never intended to be slanderous. On the contrary, it was meant as my own kind of qualified praise. The post was about what a nice guy you were. The post was about dropping weird groundless personal resentments from years back. High school was a bad time for me, and it's possible if not probable that they were a bad time completely of my own design. That didn't stop me from attributing it to other people around me. I was young, I had the emotional maturity of a 12 year old. When I ran into you at the pizza place years ago, it hit me hard that you weren't a villain to me. That was what I wanted to highlight above all else. You were by all accounts a good guy doing honest work, and that was all I needed to know.
High school was rough for me. I routinely felt betrayed by a lot of my friends, but I can't even recall any of the specific situations anymore. It's basically one big repressed memory where innocent characters are implicated by association. When I left Sherman, I wanted to burn it to the ground. I cut ties with everybody. I vilified everybody, so I could build a new life somewhere else and fix my mistakes. That last part is as important as anything: My mistakes.
I listened to "The Fidelity Wars" by Hefner the other night in the car, and explained to my friend that they were one of the first indie bands I ever stumbled upon. It gave me even more of a pause to reconsider these convoluted notions of what my high school life was like. Music is still the central focus of my life, and I go around thinking that I evolved on my own in some sort of little vacuum, that you and Greg and Aaron and Matt and Jeremiah and whoever else didn't constantly influence me back then. You did. You deserve that credit. And as far as I'm concerned, you deserve success and happiness. I don't know what you're up to these days, and I haven't seen you since the last time I went to Spanky's, but if your goals are noble, you have my support.
My sincerest apologies for everything I've done wrong to you, or anybody else who's name I've dragged through the mud in some misguided rant about how much I hated high school. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2012|09:38 pm] |
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I still devote a lot of time and energy into obsessing about my childhood. It was slanted: My home life was amazing with zero trauma, but my social-life was a vacuum. There may have been no singular moments of serious trauma, like far too many people have had to carry around with them, but there was a slow steady crushing like somebody stacking pebbles on top of you. Every morning gave birth to hope that some variable would change and things would turn in my favor, and every day that hope was trampled and laughed at for having the nerve to exist. It's not an exaggeration. It never changed until I was old enough to leave town. For the first year of college, when I finally forged my first actual friendships of my entire life, I actually thanked them when we hung out. I thanked them for including me, in spite of the burden that I'd learned myself to be. To this day, and I'm 29 years old, I leave parties and events early, for no reason. I feel like I don't belong, and I don't mean that I feel rejected. I feel like my inclusion is a cosmic accident, and though the other people may not notice, it is not the order of the universe for myself to be a part of such things. I have this nervous energy. My legs need to move and I need to be alone. I only make sense when I'm alone. Again, not to myself, but to the universe. |
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| 2012: The Recap! |
[Dec. 22nd, 2011|07:11 pm] |
January: Saw a baby being born
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
July:
August: Downloaded a really great record.
September:
October:
November:
December: Planned a birthday party for the baby. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 9th, 2011|02:21 am] |
I was unaware that my girlfriend checked my LiveJournal for updates, but today she asked me why I don't post anymore. It hadn't occurred to me that I'd ever actually stopped. On the contrary, it's just been a long time since I've had something to say that I felt needed saying. Or perhaps more accurately, it's been a long time since I've had something to say that could be said. It's a phenomenon I've written about before: The complexity and requisite components to the most interesting parts of my life do not lend themselves to a simple telling. If anybody but me were authoring a post with such a flowery introduction, I'd probably sigh an exasperated sigh and stop reading it entirely. Hey, perhaps in the future when I reread this, I'll do exactly that. Anyway, there's a contradiction that grows out of this problem, and it is as follows: When my life is interesting, my journal is not.
An example of this contradiction is a three month old beautiful baby girl sleeping 6 feet away from me. Of course you all want to know who she is and where she came from, but I can't bring myself to begin a post that does it justice. In the mean time, be settled with the knowledge that her name is Zoe and she's occasionally ticklish. And of course, she leads us back to the first line of this post, my girlfriend Dani. You apparently read this, so hello! You're also pretty cool.
The present is hard to quantify. To write it down is to presume to know which details will remain relevant, and which will fall away into obscurity. I have no skill to do such, as I've never been able to correctly predict where I'm headed or how I'm going to get there. A simple glimpse at the basic trajectory of my life is proof of that. For the most part, I'm pretty happy with this. For that reason, I'm not a photographer. I don't carry my camera with me when I go on adventures. It's often hard for me to think about a future in which pictures would serve a purpose. Only in the most abstract sense can I imagine that tomorrow's going to actually happen. A year from now...?
That being said, I respect photography, and I have friends who do beautiful work. I was investigating some of it yesterday on thefacebook, and was confronted with the reality of how far my life has gone in what seemed like a short period of time. I realized how many rooms I've been in filled with some of the most remarkable and interesting people on the planet, and how many of them I can proudly refer to as friends. And I also realized that even a small town in a small state is endlessly dense. I mean it when I say that I don't ever want to go back to Orono as long as I live (I'm sure I will, probably within a month), but I must not forget how much of my life was lived there, and how much I owe it for facilitating contact with the various people who have altered my flailing trajectory. My life contains such a vast net of people, and with few if any exceptions, I can't even imagine where I'd be now if any one of them had failed to show up and play their part. Maybe I'd still be in good shape, but it's not hard to imagine that I'd be somewhere else entirely.
So I guess what I mean to say is, "Thanks everybody."
I do have stories to tell. But at this moment, I'm not sure that many of them are set in the present. The present is treating me beautifully. I'm as happy with my life as I probably ever have been. Those curious of the day to day aspects can and probably already do check my facebook and talk to me one-on-one. As far as writing essays goes, however, I don't want to insult the present by pretending to understand it's methods. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 28th, 2010|03:22 am] |
2010: THE RECAP!
January:
I rode my bike in the snow. Had some combination of failed and successful one-night stands.
February:
I didn't celebrate valentines day.
March:
I have no recollection of this.
April:
I remembered not to believe anything I read on the internet for one full day. Dated a girl with a cat.
May:
I got in trouble for taking a coupon that expired in March. I get the "M" months mixed up.
June:
Livejournal says I was in my current relationship by this point. She has no pets.
July:
Watched fireworks on my roof.
August:
I have no recollection of this.
September:
Had a birthday.
October:
Ate Halloween candy on my girlfriend's couch. Took the air conditioner out of her window.
November:
Ate a turkey, took a nap.
December:
I have no recollection of this. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2010|04:02 am] |
I haven't posted in a while. The longer I go without posting, the harder it gets to do so. I've written on that subject before. Essentially, it becomes daunting. If I neglect to post about hugely important events of my life, it seems silly to write about the little things. Sometimes the small things don't even make sense without pages of context. Regardless, I've wanted to write. This is my effort.
I've been in Wood Burning Cat for almost five years. Most people don't realize that it's been that long. It's hard to believe myself. It was November of 2005 when I played my first solo set at Soma 36 in Orono. It was 2 originals and a Maritime cover. Of all the bands to cover, Maritime, really. It wasn't until April 1st, 2006 that I started answering to the name Wood Burning Cat, at its first real show in Farmington. I took Astra to that show with me, and it was my first time seeing The Rattlesnakes. They covered "Caribou" by the Pixies.
My band is on it's third incarnation now, as a three-piece. A few days ago we moved into a new practice space. I play guitar again. Sometimes we practice and it's horrendous and depressing, but sometimes it's amazing. Sometimes it's so good that it's hard for me to believe I'm a part of it, controlling it in real time. I feel good about it.
I have suffered a few hundred existential breakdowns in the past couple years, relating to the vast silliness of pursuing a music career. The idea is that I don't work hard enough to be taking it as seriously as I like to pretend I am. I am working under the assumption that fame is on the horizon, but not actively pursuing it, or even wanting it. As silly as it is to think about, it's even worse to type it or say it out loud. The problem is all based around the idea that a means must have an end. Life is built on the idea of having goals and some idea about the future. When you think in those terms, you can't reconcile doing something that leads you nowhere.
Today I was thinking about the first show I ever played, back in December 2002. I was playing bass in a band called Lowfive. The show was in Houlton, Maine, at something called Watson hall. We put it on ourselves and it was this big bloated thing with 5 or 6 bands. We showed up far far in advance to set up our ludicrously large PA with 3 stage monitors and a mixing board. Being in the pre-ipod days, and indeed, slightly before laptops were the dominant breed of computer, one of our band members had his desktop computer set up by the mixing board, and was playing his MP3s over the PA. This song came on, by the band The Stereo, called "Please Try to Understand." It was a nice upbeat piano driven number, and a room full of second-wave emo kids sang along happily and loudly. It was one of those moments that forever paints the song associated with it. This song might have been intended to be about something by the dude who wrote it, but for me it will always be about the first show I ever played, and a sense of community that made me feel warm and accepted.
The point is, I suppose, that those moments are the reason it's okay to lead this lifestyle. I don't want there to be a point when I'm old that I look back on my life and think, "What exactly was I doing during that time period?" I want it to be constantly changing and moving forward. Sometimes I worry that it gets harder as one gets older. Nothing seems vital like it once did. The shit that made my life worth living in 2001 was mostly stupid things: Sitting in a freezing cold Ford Escort outside an apartment complex in Portland, on my way to see The Get Up Kids and Alkaline Trio, listening to a bad emo song by a band I now use as a punchline, and feeling like all of reality was tragically fucking beautiful. I worry I'm too smart and I know too much. I can't kid myself into thinking love is the answer and bad lyrics are good lyrics. In the same situation, today, I'd be bitching about the song and thinking the girl was more annoying than beautiful. Maybe time will prove me wrong?
Right now, the only thing I know with certainty is that motion is key. I need to be moving in some direction, no matter what else happens. I want to spend more time alone on buses or with friends I barely know in strange cities I've never been to. I never feel more alive than when I'm vulnerable, and hanging on by the thinnest thread of luck and circumstance. I don't want stability. I want to throw myself into adverse situations, and find out what I'm capable of. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 9th, 2010|02:11 am] |
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I just realized that when I go to Rivers Cuomo's facebook page, there is a spot where our mutual friends are listed. I have mutual friends with Rivers Fucking Cuomo. That is so fucked up. |
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| Every Bike I've Ever Owned (continued) |
[Jun. 20th, 2010|12:32 pm] |
35. Univega Safari Ten (completely rebuilt with new parts)
36. Specialized Sirrus
37. '74 Schwinn Sprint (frame only, awaiting rebuild)
38. Gitane Super-Course (frameset only, sold)
39. Shogun Mixte (frameset only, sold)
40. Vista Mixte (came with no wheels, stripped it for parts, sold the frame)
41. Concord Mixte (came with bad wheels, replaced them and resold the bike)
42. Raleigh Grand Prix (awaiting rebuild)
43. Schwinn World (frame only, lady's step through frame)
44. Raleigh Record? (looks like a Record, but has no markings, awaiting rebuild)
45. Columbia "The Streak" (rebuilding for Joel) |
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| Re: Vista Mixte Frame - $15 (Portland, ME) |
[Jun. 20th, 2010|01:22 am] |
When I clicked on the "Subject" field, it gave me a drop down of email subject lines I've semi-recently used. I picked the most irrelevant one.
Yesterday I biked 37 miles on my fixed gear bicycle. Started in Portland and ended in Bath. I drank 2 bottles of water and 3 bottles of Gatorade. I set my top speed for my Univega, which was 31 mph. breaking 30 miles per hour on a normal bike isn't terribly difficult, but on a single speed bike, with a gear ratio catered for comfortable city riding, and no option to coast, 31 mph seems a lot fucking faster. I'm quite proud of myself for doing this trip, and doubly proud of myself for doing on a fixed gear bicycle. With that in mind, I don't think I will do any distance riding this intense without a purpose built touring bike. I wanted to bike back from Bath today, but the heat was too much and I got tired just a few miles in. I turned around and got a ride back in a car. In a way, not having done the entire round trip makes the whole thing seem invalidated. I need to redeem myself.
Tonight I saw Ted Leo and I told him after the show, "I'm not going to take a lot of your time, but I wanted to tell you that you're a badass." I'm happy with that. Screaming Females opened the show, and afterwards, me and the bassist talked about yo-yo tricks. He is better than I, but I don't think he judged me too harshly. During Ted Leo's set, some girl was checking me out pretty righteously. It was flattering and terrifying at once. It's so difficult to communicate the message of, "Hey, I think it's totally rad that you want to do me, but unfortunately, it's just not going to happen." It's also weird being in such a primal situation like that, where a girl knows less than nothing about you and tries to win you over though dancing and eye contact. So little about that concept is even vaguely compatible with my lifestyle. Flattering, but infinitely weird. Everyone keep an eye on CL Missed Connections for the next few days, see if she says anything.
I'm dating a new girl now, and it's going well. No further details.
Wood Burning Cat still exists, but with an all new line up. I play guitar. I need a more powerful amp head. The Black Heart cab is great, but that 5w head is just not cutting it. |
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