nah pop, no style

Tomorrow, as I may not have mentioned, we head to Philadelphia (where, alas, the free wireless program is not yet underway) to record for our side of the split LP with Belegost. I’m admittedly a bit nervous about recording, but it should all go well. We’ve practiced plenty. I’m also admittedly STOKED to hang out all weekend with the Belegost dudes. And to score a vegan cheesesteak. It better come together this time. On tour, I passed on a cheesesteak in Morgantown because I thought I’d get one in Philly and we ended up not spending enough time there to get one.

Wish us luck. Probably no reports here till we get back, but you never really know.

This morning began with a trip into the bathroom.

Thing is, at the point in the morning when I sauntered in there, the siding workers were already present and set up and on their scaffolding. Pretty near to the bathroom window. I decided to skip the shower for the morning, but as I sat on the john I created subtitles for the Spanish-language conversation going on on the other side of the wall.

Guy #1: Yo, dude’s got his pants down! Hurry up!
Guy #2: Aight man, I’m comin’. I hafta get my camera phone out! This is gonna be ill!

The good news is, the whole project seems to be pretty much over. They just have to come back for the scaffolding, I guess. Unless they’re leaving it there. We could charge the kids down the street (who, I might add, have been QUITE NAUGHTY this evening) to play on it.

Speaking of beefy dudes, I got a warm chuckle from today’s Subdivided We Stand post (which, I would point out, I guess isn’t an original work but a repost of something someone else wrote). I guess you have to be a Mary Worth follower to truly enjoy, but if you happen to be one, the amusement is overwhelming. And if you’re not, you might want to reconsider.

(I suddenly recall a show a few weeks ago that I attended in which I was talking with Kevin and mentioned either Mary Worth or Rex Morgan, M.D., and a young man, about whom I know nothing except that he apparently works at the Bloomfield Pool, turned and said “So YOU’RE the one who reads that comic!” and then discussed the horrid Amazing Spider-Man with us for five minutes and, as quickly as he had appeared, left for another part of the room. I approve of this young man, whoever and wherever he may be.)

Today, I had a job interview.

It was essentially the first “real” interview I’ve ever had, as my student position at Hillman basically required me merely to show up and not be drunk or an illegal alien and my interview at Burger King in high school basically went something like:

Manager: Why Burger King?
Andy: It’s close to my house and hires just about anyone, and I’m a teenager and have no scruples.

This interview sort of surprised me in its concentration on skills and job-related questions and basic lack of “Where do you picture yourself in five years?”-type bullshit. It was kind of nice. Even though it underscored the fact that I’m probably less qualified than the guy who has been the student worker in said office for four years, who also interviewed. But whatever. If I don’t get this one, at least I know it’s not because I’m dumb, just because he’s really qualified, and I can likely land one at Hillman soon.

In other news, the September midwest trip for the band is looking up! While we’re still working stuff out in Minneapolis (there’s definitely a show at the Turf Club on September 3, we might still swing an earlier all-ages show with some bands more in our vein. The Chicago show is coming together well: Rick Gribenas’s band, Sharks and Seals, are playing with us, as are Russian (Pete from Challenger and a sweet young lady named Lauren and I don’t know who all else but I’m sure they’re awesome). That show is September 2 at the Spareroom Gallery so if you’re in Chicago, come, and if you know folks there, give them a heads-up.

Also, I’d like to quickly point out that at the co-op today, after the interview, I saw a woman chowing down at the cafe who had a Syphilis Lunchbox. I mean, I guess lunchtime is as good a time as any to worry about that stuff . . . I guess . . .

Lots of good things this weekend. I would like to dwell briefly on one event, however:

Yesterday morning, Jo and I went to Zenith for brunch. It was tasty. Afterward we hustled over to the Goodwill on the South Side so that Jo could get some picture frames. We leafed through XL shirt after XL shirt, looking for smalls that might fit us. I found a nice plaid short sleeve shirt and decided to roll with it. We went to the checkout.

There was a considerable line, so a second cashier opened up and Jo moved over to that line. I stayed and after the greasy dude in front of me took forever to pay for all his ridiculous stuff, I laid down my shirt and began counting out $3.50 (I had about $3.80 in my possession at the time.) At this point, as the cashier threw the shirt in a bag, the middle-aged woman behind me thrust a $20 bill forward and said: “I’ll take care of this one, honey.”

As you might imagine, I had no clue what was going on.

“What?” I asked, as politely as one can ask that question.

“I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uhhh . . . thanks! Errr . . .”

“Gotta do something nice every once in a while!”

Indeed you do. “Uhhh . . . thanks!” I said again, head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. I scuttled away.

Immediately I felt sort of like my reaction was inappropriate or something. I felt sort of like I had to reciprocate, but I had no way to do so. Jo asked if she had asked me on a date. Was I supposed to hug her or something? Did I just look poor? I mean, sure, I was scraping for change to pay, but I had more in the bank! Perhaps she thought I had just royally fucked up the choice between having money to eat dinner that night and buying a new shirt.

Instead of feeling self-conscious about, I guess I’m just supposed to pass it along. It’s kind of like one of those annoying chain e-mails, only a little nicer.

Last weekend while in the car with the mother, my hand was forced on the “you’re not really serious about going back to school next year” issue. I had been meaning to bring it up myself for a while, but she beat me to it, which wasn’t that hard to do, and I had to admit, no, I might not be going right back. I’ve still got my plans — education, either secondary or college, either English or communication — but I might put them off another year. I explained that things with the band are going well, and we’ll probably want to do some more extensive touring and record some more and keep it up while we can, because you don’t get a lot of chances at something like this. To which she responded:

“What’s the point?”

“Whaddyou MEAN?” I asked, incredulous.

“You guys KNOW you’re not going to be The Beatles!” she informed me. “What’s the point?”

Ohhhh, Mom!

And speaking of things my mother informed me of, if you want to be slightly freaked out, I suggest that you read this. I think the link only works for a week. I have no idea how to take this. I looked up the woman’s name to try to find information about her story, but couldn’t really find any. Is this for real? What happened? And is “de-brained” really a word?

1. Yesterday morning while walking to work, I was waiting at the corner of Craig and Fifth and heard a voice from somewhere out in the street yell “WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

I looked all about, trying to determine the source of the query and the “something” in question, and my eyes fixed on a passing box truck, which rounded the corner then stopped on the side of Craig Street. The same voice then said something like, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!” and then, slowly, an old, Willie Nelson-looking man with a big backpack emerged from the passenger side, and the truck sped away, tires squealing, leaving me to wonder what (fooling with the radio without permission? self-urination? road head gone bad?) could have brought on this violent reaction from the driver.

2. Also yesterday, the contractors began work on re-siding our house. I figured this out when I woke up and there were people pounding on the side of the house. They’re doing the back and the left side of the house, and they began with the side, and when I got home the side of the house was bare and everything that used to be there was in the neighbor’s yard. Whoops. This is not going all that well.

3. Two shows this weekend. Rock’n'roll is hard work, baby. Friday night at Howler’s with Kim Phuc, Athletic Automaton, (((microwaves))) (10 pm). Saturday night at Roboto with Kalon, Southpaw, Nakano (7 pm). Please note that in the case of the Saturday show, our band name is more words than all the other band names combined.

So, as promised, a quick commentary regarding a show I attended Saturday night.

I don’t mean to demean anything anyone did in preparing the show or anything, I think it was an awesome event and I’m glad I donated my money. Most of my qualms had little to do with the organization of the event itself. That said, a few things made the night a downer:

First of all, it was one of those punk-type events where no one is really in charge, which is cool except that it means no one really can help if you have a question, and no one really can move things along, so the music, slated to start sometime in the 8:00 hour, didn’t start till approximately 10:00. The scene was sort of uncomfortable to me because there were a LOT of people who I like a lot from one end of the scene, if you will, and a number of others who I like a lot from another end of the scene, and feeling like I had to somehow negotiate between the two factions felt kind of shitty, first of all because it made me feel somewhat like it was hard to “belong” with either group when identifying somewhat with the other, and second of all because it underscored the fragmented vibe I’ve been getting off the scene. I guess it feels like, while today I have a much tighter “second family” in the scene and there are a whole lot of bands in town doing awesome things, perhaps the trade-off is that there’s so little unity across the scene, and it sometimes makes me pine a little too much for, say, 2002.

Anyhow, the first band, made up of people I have a lot of respect for in different ways, made me (and others, I’m certain) feel really uncomfortable by mixing their laid-back, kinda not-that-together music with a politically charged quiz-show sideshow, in which the audience was coerced into engaging with the band about really complicated stuff–stuff that I definitely think needs to be discussed, but not in that sort of on-the-spot atmosphere. They couldn’t have been THAT surprised that the reaction wasn’t that great (I guess they always do this, I’d only seen them once before), but they managed to act upset when people didn’t want to answer questions about effective community organizing and the role of art and culture therein in the middle of their set, with a bunch of people who they may or may not have known surrounding them.

One of the questions was, “Name five things you can do in your life to help effect positive social change.” The first response was, “Forging a student ID to ride the bus for free.”

Regardless of how much this person was jesting (I don’t think it was all that much) it was pretty much accepted that this was some sort of step in the right direction. Nevermind that this is one of the reasons why fares keep going up and people who are stuck in poverty involuntarily are unable to afford to ride the bus to where they need to go; faking a Pitt ID is seen as a valid step toward a better world.

The next answer was, “Not voting.” THAT answer got some argument. I’m all about arguing against that one, but I don’t really feel like it was half as offensive as the first answer. But I was in no shape to argue any of it at that point, being in an uncomfortable environment full of people I didn’t know or hardly knew.

Plus, the set was REALLY LONG. Considering that it started so late, it was REALLY REALLY LONG. I’m a fan of pretty short-to-medium sets, even by bands I like a lot.

By this point, while Allies are one of my favorite things going these days in this town, it was tough to get me moving, and the fact that the mics kept cutting out and we could only hear about half the vocals and no one did anything about it wasn’t that disappointing, just kind of fitting.