"We all have light and dark within us, what matters is the power we choose to act on" Part 2
As for reading, I got my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows shortly after Midnight when it was released. Then I partook in EXTREME READING, by walking into Curley’s and reading it while drinking beer at a bar. It’s got an unfair advantage by being the last one, but regardless it’s the best book in the series. Yes, the epilogue felt incredibly tacked on and yes, the climax itself was a bit anti-climactic- but the chapters in the last third leading up to that climax were the most brilliant writing and story-telling in the series.
Lately, I also read A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby- which was quite good, I saw a review that called it an existentialist Breakfast Club of sorts… like all Nick Hornby’s work, he seems to overreach and get contrived at points- but the characters are both incredibly flawed and incredibly likeable and I liked the premise (people get in an inadvertent suicide pact… don’t kill themselves, form a sort of self-help club…).
I just finished My So-called Punk; which like all great music books, manages to successfully straddle the line between not alienating newbies and not totally pandering to people who already know something about punk rock. There are a few omissions and occasionally it reads like a love letter to Brody Dalle of the Distillers (there are worse people to worship, however)- but the guy generally knows his shit and has a good style.
Our Band Could Be Your Life read much more like a brilliant manifesto about what DIY means and didn’t put rose-colored glasses on how these bands lived and toured (it’s about various American indie bands in the 80s from Black Flag to Dinosaur Jr. to Sonic Youth to the Replacements). It was inspiring and reminds you that there are bands who made a career off not selling out their principles and barely scraping by as a result (i.e. Minor Threat and Fugazi). It made me really want to be in a band and just not give a shit what people thought (Beat Happening is inspiring in this regard, as was Wesley Willis… R.I.P.).
Other than seeing a rather dismal 2-1 loss by the Fire to FC Dallas (where they didn’t appear to even be alive until about 60 minutes in and Section 8 seemed likewise subdued and censored for ESPN… yuck), I did get to take the excitement of an international soccer match. Sever (who else?) managed to get Brendan C. and I tickets to the Gold Cup Semi-Finals at Soldier Field. We saw the US beat Canada 2-1 (one goal a brilliant strike from Frankie Hejduk and the other a penalty by Landon Donovan- who nicely set up Hejduk… and yet still got made fun of, although he clearly played great)- the US faltered at the end and Canada scored what looked like an equalizer but it was called back by a somewhat bullshit offside call. Nonetheless, the universally bad refereeing throughout the game made things even, methinks. A Canadian thug, Iain Hume body-checked and laid out Pablo Mastreoni on a dead ball while the refs weren’t looking (which should’ve been a red card) and later scored the first goal (which he shouldn’t have been in the game to score). Of course, Carlos Bocanegra easily could’ve been tossed for his earlier brutal tackle (which was a yellow card). Then we stuck around for the Mexico-Guadelupe game (Guadelupe is a Carribean territory of France).
The thing is, there’s a lot more Mexican support than there is American support… so much so that the stadium erupted when Canada scored… with cheering from Mexican fans. The US and Mexico have always been big rivals and for once are about even in talent level. Of course, now there’s a very ugly xenophobic, jingoistic element to it occasionally- which we witnessed a bit by the loser in front of us, who even Sever (who’s not the PC police, by any means) thought was racist. Of course, we all rooted for Guadelupe out of spite, nonetheless. We left at half-time of that match to catch the train and heard that Mexico won 1-0. Nonetheless, it was a tight defensive match at the beginning with the Guadelupe defense and their goalkeeper Grandel playing brilliantly.
The atmosphere for the second match was pretty incredible though… as spirited and crazy as any playoff game… say what you will, but Mexico has great fans.
And for something completely different… La Fox. So I went out with a girl who I was semi-interested in who told me that she had started seeing someone so we could only be friends. I appreciated her honesty and she’s cool to talk to nonetheless, so we went out to the Mutiny. During the course of a really great conversation mainly about punk rock, politics, sex and memories of back in the day (we went to middle school together) I drank one too many PBR super mugs and conceded that I was drunk on a Monday night. I don’t make a practice of getting drunk on week nights for about a million reasons, but for the first time in a long time, it just happened.
She was nice enough to give me a ride back to the train station. I was stupid enough to get a tallboy for the train, drunk dial foolishly, pass out on said train and wake up to a conductor asking me where my stop was and him informing me we were approaching La Fox. To say La Fox is in the middle of nowhere is sort of an understatement. In spite of a very modern nice train station (with a shelter) and ample parking- it’s surrounded by fields and woods. It’s out in Kane County, so no doubt it’s designed to predict the ridiculous suburban sprawl that will be a reality in a few years. Realizing that no one could or would want to come pick me up in the middle of nowhere at 1 AM, I decided to stay up and catch the 4:52 train back towards the city. Mostly I read and nodded off and felt the mini earthquakes when freight trains blazed by the station all night. I’d like to tell you hill folk and ghouls emerged from underground to catch the train- but they just seemed like normal Metra folks- just slightly more rural. I learned a few things- remember to set my watch alarm for AM not PM on late night/early morning trains, don’t get drunk on a Monday night (of course, I already knew this) and never go to La Fox.
One day while flipping channels between innings of a Sox game, Brendan C., Jeff and I came across Canadian Football. We marveled at the bizarre rules, the excitement minus the NFL ridiculousness, the washed up former NFL players (Henry Burris and Akili Smith are the #1 and 2 quarterbacks for the Calgary Stampeders) and just that it was Canadian. Brendan is exploring the possibility of being a BC Lions fan (to paraphrase “I’m just casually dating the Lions right now and if it goes well, then I’ll be a fan”), Jeff is less serious about and picked the Toronto Argonauts (paraphrasing again: “Because I’ve always wanted to root for a team like the Yankees who isn’t the Yankees”) and I’m going for the Hamilton Tigercats. Their colors are black and gold, they represent a blue collar steel town with diehard fans, they’re the closest city to here and their kicker is Nick Setta, a former All-state Cross Country runner at Lockport High School (small world)- all perfectly good reasons to support them and as they’re 0-5 (ouch) no one will accuse me of jumping on the non-existent bandwagon. I looked up the broadcast schedule in the US sadly the Ti-cats won’t be on until August 25th… but then it will be on… oh baby, it will be on.
not_on_fire’s visit was pretty standard fare- except shorter. We had to pack a lot in the weekend, but we still managed a visit to my parents, hanging out with my sister, hanging out with
rhapsodista and Steve T., the latter whom I hadn’t seen in a year. We drank copious amounts Friday night- in the city at Hackney’s and then continuing on to Curley’s back in the G.E. I chucked a remote control directly at my TV screen after it wouldn’t cooperate and then promptly passed out which was it for my night of shame. We didn’t make it to Wisconsin (the initial plan was to partake in the Sprecher and Miller Brewery tours and possibly Summerfest) or to the Two Brothers Brewery Tour here in DuPage the next day, but
not_on_fire did get to experience the Taste of Chicago (with a brief visit from
whoyouenthrall who I also hadn’t seen in forever) and Section 8 and Fire soccer. He made an interesting comment about Section 8 that people seemed to be more there for social reasons than for the match- which is something that’s probably true that I’ve tried to ignore. Still, he enjoyed the atmosphere and the game, even though (another ugly truth) it is slower paced and the midfield performance was kind of dreadful- it ended in a 1-1 tie. Which elicits the usual “huh?” reaction, it felt more like a loss because the Fire had a 1-0 lead- but it really wasn’t. On Sunday we went to a very good Sox game (which was mentioned above) for a visitor to go to.
not_on_fire is a soccer and a cricket fan so I know he appreciates the tradition and it’s great to take visitors to see the only Chicago baseball team that matters instead of the tourist attraction on the North side. Afterwards we got covered in sand at Oak Street Beach with
rhapsodista and in spite of our dress, went up to the Signature Lounge on the 95th floor of the Hancock Building anyway and paid for way over-priced cocktails just for the view (like everyone else). I thought it was my duty since not_on_fire had treated me to the Top of the Hyatt Bar. My Mom made us dinner and
not_on_fire played my Dad in chess. We sadly didn’t make it to O’Neill’s that night, but we stayed up late watching Office Space, drinking, talking and laughing at the internets and I realized how much I’d miss him. And how much I missed Eli and Clint and Kristen and all those times when I took for granted that my friends were always going to be within arms reach. And I’ll miss the drunk dials and the spontaneous trips he made here… the US lost a great man on Sunday and England got one back.
Graduation party season was pretty fun- of course, the cardinal rule of parties is the more people you know the more fun it is, unless you can find entertaining diversions. My sister’s was a lot of fun because it featured the epic, unyielding battle between Brendan C. and John, a name partner attorney at work who are baseball opposites. I’ve never met a bigger Sox fan or a bigger Cubs hater than Brendan and I’ve never met a bigger Cubs fan or Sox hater than John. They both take their hatred of the other team to uncomfortable extremes and it was fun to see them duke it out, but eventually realize that no one would win and cool down- still they’re both affable guys and there were no hard feelings. At Jeff’s party- Morrissy and I actually won three games of bags in a row. At Lauren’s, I shamed my ancestors by (with the only other Sox fan there) losing two games in a row after coming back from 11-0 down to win the first game. Lauren’s parties always have the most diversions: swimming (an excuse to show off my tatts), a piñata and volleyball. Of course, I shamed myself by passing out at Midnight- an unfortunate habit of mine.
And believe it or not, it’s over. That’s pretty much all I had to say. And if you’ve read this far (with minimal skimming), I think I owe you either a case of beer, a Sox ticket, a make-out session, dinner, a hug or a stern talking to about how you’re wasting your life. Maybe even all of the above.
Thanks for reading. Live and love and sing.
Lately, I also read A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby- which was quite good, I saw a review that called it an existentialist Breakfast Club of sorts… like all Nick Hornby’s work, he seems to overreach and get contrived at points- but the characters are both incredibly flawed and incredibly likeable and I liked the premise (people get in an inadvertent suicide pact… don’t kill themselves, form a sort of self-help club…).
I just finished My So-called Punk; which like all great music books, manages to successfully straddle the line between not alienating newbies and not totally pandering to people who already know something about punk rock. There are a few omissions and occasionally it reads like a love letter to Brody Dalle of the Distillers (there are worse people to worship, however)- but the guy generally knows his shit and has a good style.
Our Band Could Be Your Life read much more like a brilliant manifesto about what DIY means and didn’t put rose-colored glasses on how these bands lived and toured (it’s about various American indie bands in the 80s from Black Flag to Dinosaur Jr. to Sonic Youth to the Replacements). It was inspiring and reminds you that there are bands who made a career off not selling out their principles and barely scraping by as a result (i.e. Minor Threat and Fugazi). It made me really want to be in a band and just not give a shit what people thought (Beat Happening is inspiring in this regard, as was Wesley Willis… R.I.P.).
Other than seeing a rather dismal 2-1 loss by the Fire to FC Dallas (where they didn’t appear to even be alive until about 60 minutes in and Section 8 seemed likewise subdued and censored for ESPN… yuck), I did get to take the excitement of an international soccer match. Sever (who else?) managed to get Brendan C. and I tickets to the Gold Cup Semi-Finals at Soldier Field. We saw the US beat Canada 2-1 (one goal a brilliant strike from Frankie Hejduk and the other a penalty by Landon Donovan- who nicely set up Hejduk… and yet still got made fun of, although he clearly played great)- the US faltered at the end and Canada scored what looked like an equalizer but it was called back by a somewhat bullshit offside call. Nonetheless, the universally bad refereeing throughout the game made things even, methinks. A Canadian thug, Iain Hume body-checked and laid out Pablo Mastreoni on a dead ball while the refs weren’t looking (which should’ve been a red card) and later scored the first goal (which he shouldn’t have been in the game to score). Of course, Carlos Bocanegra easily could’ve been tossed for his earlier brutal tackle (which was a yellow card). Then we stuck around for the Mexico-Guadelupe game (Guadelupe is a Carribean territory of France).
The thing is, there’s a lot more Mexican support than there is American support… so much so that the stadium erupted when Canada scored… with cheering from Mexican fans. The US and Mexico have always been big rivals and for once are about even in talent level. Of course, now there’s a very ugly xenophobic, jingoistic element to it occasionally- which we witnessed a bit by the loser in front of us, who even Sever (who’s not the PC police, by any means) thought was racist. Of course, we all rooted for Guadelupe out of spite, nonetheless. We left at half-time of that match to catch the train and heard that Mexico won 1-0. Nonetheless, it was a tight defensive match at the beginning with the Guadelupe defense and their goalkeeper Grandel playing brilliantly.
The atmosphere for the second match was pretty incredible though… as spirited and crazy as any playoff game… say what you will, but Mexico has great fans.
And for something completely different… La Fox. So I went out with a girl who I was semi-interested in who told me that she had started seeing someone so we could only be friends. I appreciated her honesty and she’s cool to talk to nonetheless, so we went out to the Mutiny. During the course of a really great conversation mainly about punk rock, politics, sex and memories of back in the day (we went to middle school together) I drank one too many PBR super mugs and conceded that I was drunk on a Monday night. I don’t make a practice of getting drunk on week nights for about a million reasons, but for the first time in a long time, it just happened.
She was nice enough to give me a ride back to the train station. I was stupid enough to get a tallboy for the train, drunk dial foolishly, pass out on said train and wake up to a conductor asking me where my stop was and him informing me we were approaching La Fox. To say La Fox is in the middle of nowhere is sort of an understatement. In spite of a very modern nice train station (with a shelter) and ample parking- it’s surrounded by fields and woods. It’s out in Kane County, so no doubt it’s designed to predict the ridiculous suburban sprawl that will be a reality in a few years. Realizing that no one could or would want to come pick me up in the middle of nowhere at 1 AM, I decided to stay up and catch the 4:52 train back towards the city. Mostly I read and nodded off and felt the mini earthquakes when freight trains blazed by the station all night. I’d like to tell you hill folk and ghouls emerged from underground to catch the train- but they just seemed like normal Metra folks- just slightly more rural. I learned a few things- remember to set my watch alarm for AM not PM on late night/early morning trains, don’t get drunk on a Monday night (of course, I already knew this) and never go to La Fox.
One day while flipping channels between innings of a Sox game, Brendan C., Jeff and I came across Canadian Football. We marveled at the bizarre rules, the excitement minus the NFL ridiculousness, the washed up former NFL players (Henry Burris and Akili Smith are the #1 and 2 quarterbacks for the Calgary Stampeders) and just that it was Canadian. Brendan is exploring the possibility of being a BC Lions fan (to paraphrase “I’m just casually dating the Lions right now and if it goes well, then I’ll be a fan”), Jeff is less serious about and picked the Toronto Argonauts (paraphrasing again: “Because I’ve always wanted to root for a team like the Yankees who isn’t the Yankees”) and I’m going for the Hamilton Tigercats. Their colors are black and gold, they represent a blue collar steel town with diehard fans, they’re the closest city to here and their kicker is Nick Setta, a former All-state Cross Country runner at Lockport High School (small world)- all perfectly good reasons to support them and as they’re 0-5 (ouch) no one will accuse me of jumping on the non-existent bandwagon. I looked up the broadcast schedule in the US sadly the Ti-cats won’t be on until August 25th… but then it will be on… oh baby, it will be on.
not_on_fire’s visit was pretty standard fare- except shorter. We had to pack a lot in the weekend, but we still managed a visit to my parents, hanging out with my sister, hanging out with
rhapsodista and Steve T., the latter whom I hadn’t seen in a year. We drank copious amounts Friday night- in the city at Hackney’s and then continuing on to Curley’s back in the G.E. I chucked a remote control directly at my TV screen after it wouldn’t cooperate and then promptly passed out which was it for my night of shame. We didn’t make it to Wisconsin (the initial plan was to partake in the Sprecher and Miller Brewery tours and possibly Summerfest) or to the Two Brothers Brewery Tour here in DuPage the next day, but
not_on_fire did get to experience the Taste of Chicago (with a brief visit from
whoyouenthrall who I also hadn’t seen in forever) and Section 8 and Fire soccer. He made an interesting comment about Section 8 that people seemed to be more there for social reasons than for the match- which is something that’s probably true that I’ve tried to ignore. Still, he enjoyed the atmosphere and the game, even though (another ugly truth) it is slower paced and the midfield performance was kind of dreadful- it ended in a 1-1 tie. Which elicits the usual “huh?” reaction, it felt more like a loss because the Fire had a 1-0 lead- but it really wasn’t. On Sunday we went to a very good Sox game (which was mentioned above) for a visitor to go to.
not_on_fire is a soccer and a cricket fan so I know he appreciates the tradition and it’s great to take visitors to see the only Chicago baseball team that matters instead of the tourist attraction on the North side. Afterwards we got covered in sand at Oak Street Beach with
rhapsodista and in spite of our dress, went up to the Signature Lounge on the 95th floor of the Hancock Building anyway and paid for way over-priced cocktails just for the view (like everyone else). I thought it was my duty since not_on_fire had treated me to the Top of the Hyatt Bar. My Mom made us dinner and
not_on_fire played my Dad in chess. We sadly didn’t make it to O’Neill’s that night, but we stayed up late watching Office Space, drinking, talking and laughing at the internets and I realized how much I’d miss him. And how much I missed Eli and Clint and Kristen and all those times when I took for granted that my friends were always going to be within arms reach. And I’ll miss the drunk dials and the spontaneous trips he made here… the US lost a great man on Sunday and England got one back.
Graduation party season was pretty fun- of course, the cardinal rule of parties is the more people you know the more fun it is, unless you can find entertaining diversions. My sister’s was a lot of fun because it featured the epic, unyielding battle between Brendan C. and John, a name partner attorney at work who are baseball opposites. I’ve never met a bigger Sox fan or a bigger Cubs hater than Brendan and I’ve never met a bigger Cubs fan or Sox hater than John. They both take their hatred of the other team to uncomfortable extremes and it was fun to see them duke it out, but eventually realize that no one would win and cool down- still they’re both affable guys and there were no hard feelings. At Jeff’s party- Morrissy and I actually won three games of bags in a row. At Lauren’s, I shamed my ancestors by (with the only other Sox fan there) losing two games in a row after coming back from 11-0 down to win the first game. Lauren’s parties always have the most diversions: swimming (an excuse to show off my tatts), a piñata and volleyball. Of course, I shamed myself by passing out at Midnight- an unfortunate habit of mine.
And believe it or not, it’s over. That’s pretty much all I had to say. And if you’ve read this far (with minimal skimming), I think I owe you either a case of beer, a Sox ticket, a make-out session, dinner, a hug or a stern talking to about how you’re wasting your life. Maybe even all of the above.
Thanks for reading. Live and love and sing.