It was a little sad to pick up these items one by one and walk them out to a pod to prep them to move across the country, sure, but I use the word surreal on purpose. Over the years, amongst that close group of friends, we've spent time socially in just about everyone's home, you know? That said, the Wong home has always kind of served as a hub for all of us for as long as I remember. That's a testament to the warmth and kindness of Alex and his family, but we've also spent a great deal of time there without Alex even being home. This house, whether it asked to be or not, was kind of the unofficial home of the family I chose and while it certainly wasn't where I grew up, it was definitely where we grew up as friends. To return to that place with those same friends after life had pulled us all in such different directions put a lot of that growth in perspective. It was powerful. I was grateful to be a part of that day as much I've been grateful to be able to consider the Wong house a second home for the past 12 years.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Paint A Flower On Your Lawn
Packing up Wong's parents' home was a bit of a surreal experience. I mean, if you walk into any of the childhood homes of one your best friends, you're going to feel some emotion and certainly when you enter that home with the intent of packing up items so that they can be moved away, it's going to kind of shape the tone of those feelings. I don't want to come off too dramatic in this case. That home and those memories very much belong to the Wongs. While I do have treasured memories there, it's a drop in the ocean compared to how the Wongs themselves must be feeling as they continue this transition to a new chapter of their lives.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Soundtrack of Our Lives Part 2 of 4
We resume our list of albums that have stood the test of the time and resonated with me throughout my life. To reiterate, this list does not reflect the "best or "my favorite," just most present.
Ten- Pearl Jam- I will say it. In my opinion, for all of the accolades this album has received, this album still rings as one of the most underrated albums of all time. In both quality and historical consequence, while worthy of a nod acknowledgement in most all rock circles, too often this album is pigeonholed into being a pillar of just Seattle grunge rock and not music as a whole. If anything, Pearl Jam jumped on the grunge bandwagon a bit late. I am not trying to launch this into a diatribe of "there would be no Nirvana/STP/Alice In Chains without this band"... that's asinine. That said, this album was essential to turning that grunge scene that they may have jumped on while already in motion into a mainstream movement.
I know that it's tough to look at career musician millionaires and say "give them further respect and success" but to me this album stands with any other. Further, I know that this list is supposed to be more personal in terms of music's impact on me, but I figure I may never have another chance to climb the soapbox on this matter.
In terms of my relationship to the album, just a real personal connection, I suppose. There was grit, edge, and anger introduced to me in that album at a time in my life where I didn't have much to be gritty, edgy, or angry about. That's the power of music. You find ways to relate to it even if you can't quite put your finger on why or how.
Also, anyone who knows me knows that I am a sucker for my shuffle. 49 times out of 50 I'll purchase an album, listen to it through bell to bell, and then chuck it on my ipod, which I keep in a constant state of shuffle. "Ten" stands as one of the very few albums that I'll listen to as it's own entity, enjoy, and hit repeat.
All That You Can't Leave Behind-U2- Really less to say here than I wish there was. It doesn't make for much of a blog post if my reasoning for treasuring an album is "just becasuse." Although, that comes close to summing up my feelings here.
I remember my aunt or grandparents asking what I wanted for Christmas and I said Dave Matthews Band's "Everyday." Turns out "Everyday" was less expensive than previously thought and I had another gift coming my way. I was at an age where giving money for Christmas wasn't an option (it was still about the magic of opening presents, at least in my family) and my family member was already in Coconuts (remember Coconuts?). In short, I had to pick another album to supplement the DMB even though I wasn't necessarily asking for one. "Beautiful Day" was the hot song of the time for U2 and I certainly enjoyed the track. I asked for "All That You Can't Leave Behind."
Lo and behold, I wound up really enjoying the album and a lot of those tracks still stick with me. Frankly, I'm not sure why they stick with me to the extent they do, but maybe it has to do with this little bit of nostalgia when my music collection was at it's infancy. Maybe it has to do with no other U2 album from "Joshua Tree" to "How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb" really gaining traction with me. Regardless, it's one of those things that I can't help but just shrug my shoulders and treasure "just because."
New Years Eve 1995 - Phish- In the year 2016, 8 live shows later, and about 20 or so albums later, it should surprise no one that Phish has made an appearance on this list. With that said, this is the album that started it all and the context may surprise you. 2004 was arguably the start of what I'll call the poker boom among teens in the U.S. Through drama (like high school theatre, not high school gossip-based disagreements), I had gotten to know Matty Matura and one Friday night Matty was looking for another player at a poker game with him and his friends. That first night, I knew the rules of game, was calm, told some jokes, and lost my money. That was the perfect recipe to ensure you'd be invited again. Over time, I would play with these guys pretty much weekly. While I was never a fly on the wall or timid at these games, and while these were good people who took the time to get to know me and treat me like one of their own at these games, if we weren't talking about poker or music there wasn't much I could add to their conversations at first. These were people that had been hanging out together their whole lives. They had their own memories, quirks, inside jokes etc. There is only so much you can participate in that when you're just getting to know a group other than laugh along, listen, and enjoy.
Anyway, while I was getting to know this group, one of the constant topics of conversation that I could relate to was music. Usually the conversation centered around the Red Hot Chili Peppers or other alt-rock that was at the time contemporary, but often the conversation would drift onto Phish. In my life to that point, I was familiar with "Farmhouse" having the same chords as "No Woman No Cry" and had heard some tracks off "Round Room." I found myself respecting the sound, but could certainly take or leave it. Along comes these guys and suddenly Phish is all the rage.
At that age and in a pre-itunes world, heading down to FYE at 14 was equivalent to heading down to the bar at 26. It was a staple of suburban American youth. After my second poker game, the next time I was in FYE, I saw this album and picked it up. From the games, I had heard that hearing them live was a different animal all together. I didn't have high hopes for me liking, but I recognized some Who covers on the back, so I figured it wouldn't be all bad.
Long story short, hearing them live did make all the difference and I fell in love with the sound. On a more personal note, after about 3 weeks those guys at the poker game started to call me up to hang out even when they weren't playing poker. With all respect to my friends before this time ( I treasure CTS as much as I cringe at some of the shenanigans), the group of people I met through those poker games grew into my best friends that I keep in touch with and spend time with to this day. We grew from boys and girls to young men and women together and made our own memories in the process.
This album serves as an homage to the beginning of those friendships and how much we've grown from there. Plus, I've never picked up an album with such an ulterior motive. My thought process was essentially, "Well, I probably won't like this, but it'll give me something to talk about."
Quite a bit to reflect on.
Ten- Pearl Jam- I will say it. In my opinion, for all of the accolades this album has received, this album still rings as one of the most underrated albums of all time. In both quality and historical consequence, while worthy of a nod acknowledgement in most all rock circles, too often this album is pigeonholed into being a pillar of just Seattle grunge rock and not music as a whole. If anything, Pearl Jam jumped on the grunge bandwagon a bit late. I am not trying to launch this into a diatribe of "there would be no Nirvana/STP/Alice In Chains without this band"... that's asinine. That said, this album was essential to turning that grunge scene that they may have jumped on while already in motion into a mainstream movement.
I know that it's tough to look at career musician millionaires and say "give them further respect and success" but to me this album stands with any other. Further, I know that this list is supposed to be more personal in terms of music's impact on me, but I figure I may never have another chance to climb the soapbox on this matter.
In terms of my relationship to the album, just a real personal connection, I suppose. There was grit, edge, and anger introduced to me in that album at a time in my life where I didn't have much to be gritty, edgy, or angry about. That's the power of music. You find ways to relate to it even if you can't quite put your finger on why or how.
Also, anyone who knows me knows that I am a sucker for my shuffle. 49 times out of 50 I'll purchase an album, listen to it through bell to bell, and then chuck it on my ipod, which I keep in a constant state of shuffle. "Ten" stands as one of the very few albums that I'll listen to as it's own entity, enjoy, and hit repeat.
All That You Can't Leave Behind-U2- Really less to say here than I wish there was. It doesn't make for much of a blog post if my reasoning for treasuring an album is "just becasuse." Although, that comes close to summing up my feelings here.
I remember my aunt or grandparents asking what I wanted for Christmas and I said Dave Matthews Band's "Everyday." Turns out "Everyday" was less expensive than previously thought and I had another gift coming my way. I was at an age where giving money for Christmas wasn't an option (it was still about the magic of opening presents, at least in my family) and my family member was already in Coconuts (remember Coconuts?). In short, I had to pick another album to supplement the DMB even though I wasn't necessarily asking for one. "Beautiful Day" was the hot song of the time for U2 and I certainly enjoyed the track. I asked for "All That You Can't Leave Behind."
Lo and behold, I wound up really enjoying the album and a lot of those tracks still stick with me. Frankly, I'm not sure why they stick with me to the extent they do, but maybe it has to do with this little bit of nostalgia when my music collection was at it's infancy. Maybe it has to do with no other U2 album from "Joshua Tree" to "How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb" really gaining traction with me. Regardless, it's one of those things that I can't help but just shrug my shoulders and treasure "just because."
New Years Eve 1995 - Phish- In the year 2016, 8 live shows later, and about 20 or so albums later, it should surprise no one that Phish has made an appearance on this list. With that said, this is the album that started it all and the context may surprise you. 2004 was arguably the start of what I'll call the poker boom among teens in the U.S. Through drama (like high school theatre, not high school gossip-based disagreements), I had gotten to know Matty Matura and one Friday night Matty was looking for another player at a poker game with him and his friends. That first night, I knew the rules of game, was calm, told some jokes, and lost my money. That was the perfect recipe to ensure you'd be invited again. Over time, I would play with these guys pretty much weekly. While I was never a fly on the wall or timid at these games, and while these were good people who took the time to get to know me and treat me like one of their own at these games, if we weren't talking about poker or music there wasn't much I could add to their conversations at first. These were people that had been hanging out together their whole lives. They had their own memories, quirks, inside jokes etc. There is only so much you can participate in that when you're just getting to know a group other than laugh along, listen, and enjoy.
Anyway, while I was getting to know this group, one of the constant topics of conversation that I could relate to was music. Usually the conversation centered around the Red Hot Chili Peppers or other alt-rock that was at the time contemporary, but often the conversation would drift onto Phish. In my life to that point, I was familiar with "Farmhouse" having the same chords as "No Woman No Cry" and had heard some tracks off "Round Room." I found myself respecting the sound, but could certainly take or leave it. Along comes these guys and suddenly Phish is all the rage.
At that age and in a pre-itunes world, heading down to FYE at 14 was equivalent to heading down to the bar at 26. It was a staple of suburban American youth. After my second poker game, the next time I was in FYE, I saw this album and picked it up. From the games, I had heard that hearing them live was a different animal all together. I didn't have high hopes for me liking, but I recognized some Who covers on the back, so I figured it wouldn't be all bad.
Long story short, hearing them live did make all the difference and I fell in love with the sound. On a more personal note, after about 3 weeks those guys at the poker game started to call me up to hang out even when they weren't playing poker. With all respect to my friends before this time ( I treasure CTS as much as I cringe at some of the shenanigans), the group of people I met through those poker games grew into my best friends that I keep in touch with and spend time with to this day. We grew from boys and girls to young men and women together and made our own memories in the process.
This album serves as an homage to the beginning of those friendships and how much we've grown from there. Plus, I've never picked up an album with such an ulterior motive. My thought process was essentially, "Well, I probably won't like this, but it'll give me something to talk about."
Quite a bit to reflect on.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Soundtrack Of Our Lives Part 1 of 4
Like life, social media means something different to each one of us. Indeed, if we step back far enough, if we look at our own respective social media presence, we kind of get a super, super abstract vision of our own values. I am sure there are ways to further elaborate on that but I also know there are likely hundreds of college seniors writing their thesis on this as I type this and I'll be damned if I write their paper for them.
Facebook status prompts are not for me. The one's that say, "take this quiz to see which of your five friends would be in horror film with you," or "the first 3 people on your contact list have to define you in 3 words," etc. There's nothing wrong with digging that and I get as much of a chuckle as anyone when I find out that I'm most likely to die second in someone's horror movie because I find it a viable plan to try and "talk it out" with the un-dead during a zombie apocalypse as the next guy, but when I look back on my social media times I prefer to see photos of varying degrees of embarrassing situations and archived tweets that make sense to very small audiences and sometimes years later (thanks to Timehop) go way over my head as well.
That said, a couple of weeks ago, I was tagged in a prompt that asked me to list 12 albums that have "stuck with me" throughout my life. A stickler for following directions (scoff) I was advised not to overthink it and not to explain what made an album stick out. Frankly, I was so compelled that the prompt made clear to say albums that resonate and not necessarily your "favorites" were to be listed. I was smitten with that seemingly minute detail and I admit I had a great time making some stops on the nostalgia train. While the status prompt was deleted (sorry, brother) and advised that no explanation be provided for why an album was listed. I did the list on my own time and I wanted to take the time to chronicle these for my reference. The only other caveat here was that no one artist could be used twice on the list.
With that out of the way, here, in no particular order, are the 12 albums that have "stuck with me" over the years. Again, a list of my favorite albums would be much different.
1. "Before These Crowded Streets" - Dave Matthews Band - My appreciation of DMB should be a secret to no one. "Everyday" was one of the first 2 albums I ever owned. Indeed, before grade 8, prior to my tastes in music diversifying and rounding about a bit, one could say that as far as music appreciation goes, my passion bordered on obsession. That makes picking a particular album all the more difficult, as I feel like each of these albums molded me in different ways. To be clear, I was made who I am by my family and friends, but I think DMB played about as much of a role in shaping me as a piece of pop culture can.
I go with "Before These Crowded Streets" because my family was very late to the "getting a computer" club. While my friends were chatting on AIM, I was still trying to call them up on the telephone unsuccessfully because their use of dial-up service was preventing the phone call from going through. There was a stretch of months where I owned all of the other DMB albums (at least the studio ones and "Listener Supported") except for BTCS. For BTCS, I used to have to rent it from the library, wear the hell out of the CD for a week or so, return the CD, and hope it was available for checkout the next time I went to the library. Rest assured, those trips to the library were as nerve-wracking and exciting as trips to the library ever get. I can't in good conscience place one Dave album over another, but getting to listen to BTCS always felt like a treat that I never took for granted. For the life of me, I don't know why I just didn't ask someone to burn it for me, but I digress.
2. "Tommy" - The Who - Can honestly say that this is not here because of the Miller Place Panther Player production, but I'm sure that doesn't hurt either. I think, honestly, I'm just a sucker for albums that reprise themselves. Every album is a story or tale in an artistic sense - I get that. But I think that the idea that a story can be told without the benefit of theater players through music is not necessarily novel, but "Tommy" was likely my first experience with that. Plus, the quality of the music incredible and the scope of the album is just flat out admirable. It's one of those albums that (as thick and obvious as it seems) you sit back and listen to thinking, "Holy crap, people created that. Lastly, as much as I say that my resonant album list and favorite album list would be different, "Tommy" would be on both. I've read that The Who didn't even finish the album all of the way and were forced by studio deadlines to release the album "as is." Astounding to think about. What a piece of music history.
3. "Giant Steps" - John Coltrane - The first jazz album I ever bought and added to my jazz collection. Significant in a lot of ways, really. In truth, the first "jazz album" I ever owned was a 12 track Best of Miles Davis compilation. I loved it. That's no slight to Miles (like he would care in the least about my opinion... he'd ask me to pass the peas and I'd thank him for the opportunity), but a compilation is cool as can be, but doesn't really constitute a true "album" (at least not for this list). Anyway, although I started with Miles, I thought if I went right for his albums I'd run the risk of picking up "Kind of Blue" and "Bitches Brew" and calling in a day on my jazz collection. You have to understand that I was really just a kid here and jazz in a way is a pretty intimidating genre. All music is art. I want to be clear on that point. Jimi Hendrix is an artist. Arianna Grande sings songs and she creates art. Heck, a third-grade recorder concert is art.
That said, I think jazz is the only genre of music that tends to be approached as "art that is also music" instead of "music that is also art." (Now that's a thesis paper.) I think it's tough to know where to stick your foot in the pool, especially with an audience that has sadly become so niched. "Giant Steps" (the irony of the name is not lost on me) signified a commitment to get to know "jazz" not just the "jazz greats." To be clear Coltrane is an icon, who is pretty literally immortal if you consider that he has his own religious sect. Hopefully you get my meeting. Bottom line: "Giant Steps" was the first stone in what has now become a castle of my jazz appreciation and with all humility-knowledge/awareness. A few years after buying this album, I took a course with professor Stabley and the rest is history.
4 - 12 coming soon. Songs of the day seem redundant with this subject matter.
Facebook status prompts are not for me. The one's that say, "take this quiz to see which of your five friends would be in horror film with you," or "the first 3 people on your contact list have to define you in 3 words," etc. There's nothing wrong with digging that and I get as much of a chuckle as anyone when I find out that I'm most likely to die second in someone's horror movie because I find it a viable plan to try and "talk it out" with the un-dead during a zombie apocalypse as the next guy, but when I look back on my social media times I prefer to see photos of varying degrees of embarrassing situations and archived tweets that make sense to very small audiences and sometimes years later (thanks to Timehop) go way over my head as well.
That said, a couple of weeks ago, I was tagged in a prompt that asked me to list 12 albums that have "stuck with me" throughout my life. A stickler for following directions (scoff) I was advised not to overthink it and not to explain what made an album stick out. Frankly, I was so compelled that the prompt made clear to say albums that resonate and not necessarily your "favorites" were to be listed. I was smitten with that seemingly minute detail and I admit I had a great time making some stops on the nostalgia train. While the status prompt was deleted (sorry, brother) and advised that no explanation be provided for why an album was listed. I did the list on my own time and I wanted to take the time to chronicle these for my reference. The only other caveat here was that no one artist could be used twice on the list.
With that out of the way, here, in no particular order, are the 12 albums that have "stuck with me" over the years. Again, a list of my favorite albums would be much different.
1. "Before These Crowded Streets" - Dave Matthews Band - My appreciation of DMB should be a secret to no one. "Everyday" was one of the first 2 albums I ever owned. Indeed, before grade 8, prior to my tastes in music diversifying and rounding about a bit, one could say that as far as music appreciation goes, my passion bordered on obsession. That makes picking a particular album all the more difficult, as I feel like each of these albums molded me in different ways. To be clear, I was made who I am by my family and friends, but I think DMB played about as much of a role in shaping me as a piece of pop culture can.
I go with "Before These Crowded Streets" because my family was very late to the "getting a computer" club. While my friends were chatting on AIM, I was still trying to call them up on the telephone unsuccessfully because their use of dial-up service was preventing the phone call from going through. There was a stretch of months where I owned all of the other DMB albums (at least the studio ones and "Listener Supported") except for BTCS. For BTCS, I used to have to rent it from the library, wear the hell out of the CD for a week or so, return the CD, and hope it was available for checkout the next time I went to the library. Rest assured, those trips to the library were as nerve-wracking and exciting as trips to the library ever get. I can't in good conscience place one Dave album over another, but getting to listen to BTCS always felt like a treat that I never took for granted. For the life of me, I don't know why I just didn't ask someone to burn it for me, but I digress.
2. "Tommy" - The Who - Can honestly say that this is not here because of the Miller Place Panther Player production, but I'm sure that doesn't hurt either. I think, honestly, I'm just a sucker for albums that reprise themselves. Every album is a story or tale in an artistic sense - I get that. But I think that the idea that a story can be told without the benefit of theater players through music is not necessarily novel, but "Tommy" was likely my first experience with that. Plus, the quality of the music incredible and the scope of the album is just flat out admirable. It's one of those albums that (as thick and obvious as it seems) you sit back and listen to thinking, "Holy crap, people created that. Lastly, as much as I say that my resonant album list and favorite album list would be different, "Tommy" would be on both. I've read that The Who didn't even finish the album all of the way and were forced by studio deadlines to release the album "as is." Astounding to think about. What a piece of music history.
3. "Giant Steps" - John Coltrane - The first jazz album I ever bought and added to my jazz collection. Significant in a lot of ways, really. In truth, the first "jazz album" I ever owned was a 12 track Best of Miles Davis compilation. I loved it. That's no slight to Miles (like he would care in the least about my opinion... he'd ask me to pass the peas and I'd thank him for the opportunity), but a compilation is cool as can be, but doesn't really constitute a true "album" (at least not for this list). Anyway, although I started with Miles, I thought if I went right for his albums I'd run the risk of picking up "Kind of Blue" and "Bitches Brew" and calling in a day on my jazz collection. You have to understand that I was really just a kid here and jazz in a way is a pretty intimidating genre. All music is art. I want to be clear on that point. Jimi Hendrix is an artist. Arianna Grande sings songs and she creates art. Heck, a third-grade recorder concert is art.
That said, I think jazz is the only genre of music that tends to be approached as "art that is also music" instead of "music that is also art." (Now that's a thesis paper.) I think it's tough to know where to stick your foot in the pool, especially with an audience that has sadly become so niched. "Giant Steps" (the irony of the name is not lost on me) signified a commitment to get to know "jazz" not just the "jazz greats." To be clear Coltrane is an icon, who is pretty literally immortal if you consider that he has his own religious sect. Hopefully you get my meeting. Bottom line: "Giant Steps" was the first stone in what has now become a castle of my jazz appreciation and with all humility-knowledge/awareness. A few years after buying this album, I took a course with professor Stabley and the rest is history.
4 - 12 coming soon. Songs of the day seem redundant with this subject matter.
Sunday, February 14, 2016
The Jean Genie Has Escaped Her Denim Lamp
Today's post draws inspiration from the lovely and talented Jillian Ports.
I still remember Jill trying in vain to teach me how to perfect a dance step in the wings of a production of "The Boyfriend" in which we played husband and wife. I could be miss-remembering some of this at this point, as it has been a really long time, but at one point I'm fairly certain I think she asked if I was going to take this seriously and I said that pathetically, I was trying as hard as I could. Needless to say, Broadway was never in my future.
Anyway Jill, a brilliant, honest, and relatable writer, recently penned a post found here: https://jawkwardprufrock.wordpress.com/2016/02/05/the-top-5-times-i-ruined-everything/
in which she describes how through the misdeeds of fate and self-admitted awkwardness she... mishandles... some flirting situations.
I admired her honesty and got a good laugh, so I figured what better day than Valentine's Day to recount some of my verbal misses with the fairer sex. Before I get to that though, let me hit you with this Valentine's Day idea I had.
Feelings on the holiday aside, (you shouldn't pick one day of the year to show and tell the one you love that they're special, but it's equally weird that someone would try to villainize a holiday that's a nice sentiment even if it's corporate driven.) we all know that a popular selling item of this day are boxes of chocolate in the shape of hearts. I think it would be funny (and consequently sell) to have round boxes of chocolate that single people can give the couples that they hang out with. Round boxes of chocolate as a 'thank you' for letting them be a third wheel. Wheels are round. Get it? I'm not saying it would revolutionize Valentine's Day, but I'd have to imagine there is a market for that in today's world. Third Wheel Chocolates.
Anyway, back to the verbal misdeeds.
To be honest, I don't think if I were noting the times that I misplayed a flirting session, I could make it up to the count of five. PLEASE, before you roll your eyes at that let me say that I think if we made a list of times that I was exceptionally smooth in those situations, we'd have an equally short list. My point is, often when I find myself in those kinds of *ahem* encounters, I'm typically just talking to a girl as I would anybody else and I kind of don't realize we're flirting until after I have apparently flirted... I hope that makes sense.
That said, that's not to say that I've never stuck some degree of my foot in my mouth and I'm happy to recount these for you here. Now, just in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel obligated to let you know whether alcohol was a factor in any of these exchanges. To edify you accordingly and have some fun in the wake of digging up my embarrassment and impending doom, I will implement and introduce the following code phrase for when I had indeed a drinking prior to these exchanges: "The Jean Genie (Rest well, David Bowie) had escaped her denim lamp."
1. It was New Year's Eve of I believe 2011 and the Jean Genie had escaped her denim lamp. (Works, right?) My friends and I had all gone out in the city to club I believe simply called "The Piano Bar." This was the same year that some stranger named Dave and his girlfriend had all night dispute over who paid for a train ticket and a perferated ear drum. (Well covered in "Yesternow" if you're genuinely that curious.) Anyway, whilst in the Piano Bar, where there was no piano by the way, I met and was chatting with this girl and after speaking for a bit, we hit the dance floor. Things were going fine there (as if I had to clarify) and I asked her where she was headed after this bar, presumably with her friends etc. and she replied: "I'm not sure, I have no plans." I, in my infinite wisdom and fortunately temporary buzz said... and I quote: "That's what I like to hear."
Now, I know that some of you who know me well are finding a way in your head to give me the benefit of the doubt. Surely this wasn't said as uncomfortably as it comes across in type. After all, this is Tom/Poli we're talking about here. I am here to thank you for your optimism, but regretfully inform you that it came out JUST as creepy as it reads. As soon as it left my mouth I had my out personal "what the fuck was that?" moment. We kept dancing to finish out the song as a formality, but mutually excused ourselves pretty quickly afterward. I've spent the last five years trying to repress it from memory. Frankly, I'm sure the girl has, too.
2. No genies involved. At the risk of spoiling the ending, I will say that this one turned out okay, but I spent one of my favorite Halloweens of all time dressed as cowboy in a giant yellow cowboy hat. (Quick and easy costume. Plus, by total chance, Grebe was dressed as a cow! Needless to say we had to milk that coincidence for all it was worth.) We all went out in Queens and I met this lovely girl, Jolene, who was dressed as "Joan from Mad Men." With all due respect, I don't watch "Mad Men." Now, in the loudness and clamor of the bar, I got the names kind of backwards (it didn't help that they were so similar.) So I, frankly as I feel most guys would do said, "Okay, forget about the character name of Jolene, the girl I am getting to know is Joan." So we spent the whole night hanging out and whathaveyou and at the end of said night I said something akin to "Goodnight, Joan." She said that was the name of her character and I immediately felt like I was hit by I truck. I simply had not retained, nor cared to retain, the name of her character, which turned out to be her actual name. In a equal parts pathetic/admirable/effective effort to buy time, I tipped my comically-sized cowboy hat and called her ma'am while I racked my brain for a name that just wasn't coming. By the grace of a higher power "Jolene" came to me in a flash (thank you Ray Lamontagne) and Jolene was none the wiser. We spoke for a few weeks afterwards and I wish her well. She never knew just how close I came to ruining that.
3. Would be a lie to say the genie wasn't involved here, but I firmly believe that this would have happened anyway. Some random night in Manhattan, Sean Taylor led us to a bar that might as well have been a basement. To be clear, I don't frown on that. I adore a dive bar as much as one you have to dress up for, but when I say "basement" I am referring not to the quality of service, drinks, or people, but lighting. This place was dark enough to go spelunking in. Genuinely, I'm not sure if a bill wasn't paid, or what was going on, but I couldn't see a thing. Not one to call a game on account of darkness, I went in with my buds to maintain the momentum of the evening. While there, I got to know this girl whose name I admit I forget, but she was from Ohio, which we were able to speak about for awhile because my sister Noelle went to college in Athens. We spoke for a bit, largely platonically, and after the conversation ran it's course we, again, mutually went back to our respective friends with a fond goodbye. I spent a few minutes with my friends and then went back up to the bar for another sip of something. While there, waiting for the bartender, I introduced myself to this dude (again, my goals are just to be social, I never really harbor much more intentions than that) to my left and this girl to my right. I'm sure you saw where this was going, but "girl to my right" was "Ohio girl" and she... made that clear. Easily, one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I remember being so mortified that I over-reacted and bolted to Jay saying that we had to leave right away. After hearing the story, laughing at my expense, and assuring me that this too would pass, we wound up staying in the bar, while I stayed glued to the spot, for fear that history would repeat itself a third time. On the plus side, later on that night, we somehow got the whole bar to chant "Roopak Sekhon" with us. Presumably because you couldn't see and everyone assumed it was their friend that wanted them to chant along. A very sweet cherry on a most bitter sundae.
4. During one of open mic's at Portside that while fun run far too late for someone with any sort of weekday responsibility, I meet this girl and chat with her for a while. Eventually, we get to the part where we ask each other "what do you do?" I'm paraphrasing here, but she lets me know that she is a sort of medical technician that injects people with some sort of dangerous in excess radioactive dye that allows doctors to see things better in x-rays. She says herself. "It's not exactly what I thought I'd be doing when I was in kindergarten, but it's where I'm at." (Paraphrasing there, too.) I then said, "I understand, when I was in second grade I said I wanted to be a songwriter, but injecting people with radioactive fluid was a really close second."
Now, to my credit, she did laugh pretty hard at that. The problem is, while she laughed PRETTY hard, I laughed REALLY hard. I laughed so hard at my own joke that I had to excuse myself, so as not to look like a total loon. I simply couldn't recover. Some hours later, I exchanged a decidedly pleasant goodbye with her, but the magic was gone.
On that note, happy Valentine's Day, friends.
Song of the Day: "Impossible Soul" - Sufjan Stevens
Jazz Song of the Day: "Everybody's Jumpin' - Dave Brubeck
Sunday, February 7, 2016
There Sure Are A Lot Of Bill Frisells Here Tonight
The calm before Super Bowl pageantry draws me to a quick post. While certainly not the motive for this piece, I can't jump into this word-wound wilderness without at least making note of an utterly pristine Wilco show that took place this past Friday at the beautiful (seriously, beautiful) Kings Theatre in Brooklyn, New York. The occasion marked my first time seeing the group since they opened for Neil Young with a searing "Sky Blue Sky" heavy set at the Garden many years ago. I think I've long since eclipsed the usefulness of the phrase, "best show I've ever seen," because frankly I've seen so many shows of so many genres, contexts, and even the people I've seen them with. It has become such an arbitrary statement, I can't in good conscience toss it out. With that said, they played an incredible, diverse set, capped with an acoustic encore. Always finding new ways to astound live and I defy you to find a band with a cleaner, yet oh-so-not-cookie-cutter, sound. "Via Chicago" and "Art of Almost" were highlights on top of highlights. I'll have another chance to see them this summer at Mountain Jam. Let me know if you want on the day-glo bus.
The show marked my first time seeing Steve of equal parts York and MP lore in many moons, but the second time in as many weeks that I saw Kevin Montgomery, as he also accompanied me in seeing Hive in Queens last weekend. Speaking of astounding sounds, the limits of avant-groove a pushed nicely by Hive. Incidentally, they're looking to change up their band name in preparation for their new album release. I'm pushing for the name "Indigenous 3." I'm on their mailing list. I'm optimistic.
Anyway, just for a beat of context, jazz-guitarist Bill Frisell was supposed to open for Wilco, but was held up by weather in Quebec. Not one to let delayed travelers wait in peace, Steve, Kev, and I made it our own running gag, hence the title.
I would say about a month ago, a friend brought to my attention via a mass shared social media post that there are libraries around the world in which you could "rent" people as human books and listen to their stories. I'm a sucker for oral history and my buddy noted that these libraries were riffing off an idea I've long held dear.
While it never occurred to me to incorporate the formality of a library card, I've always been a real advocate for "storytelling nights" where people come together in a place and vibe similar to an open mic, but just kind of take all of the fanfare out of it and don't so much perform as they do just talk.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not critiquing the open mic scene. I've had great times and met incredible people at various open mics throughout my life. See my previous post actually. (I chuckled at that realization.), but open mics as a whole tend to be a group of people coming together and celebrating a talent that makes them unique. That's super special, super important, and my life wouldn't be the same without that outlet. With that said, whereas open mics focus on what makes people different, I think it would be so cool and invaluable to have a night and space that focuses on what makes people the same, or dare I say ordinary. There could be different topics every week, some would make you cry, others make you laugh, but always make you think. I believe a lot of people can stand to hear these stories. I think there are even more people that can benefit from telling their stories.
A chance to bond in our very humanity. Hopefully this is a movement that picks up steam soon.
Song of the Day: "Strung Out Again" Elliott Smith
Jazz Song of the Day: "Evidence" Thelonious Monk
Saturday, January 9, 2016
I Said, I Said: The Velvet Lounge Chronicles
This past Wednesday, a local music institution was lost. Well... not really. The venue still stands tall and smells of curry, but the Velvet Lounge Open Mic is, sadly, no more. I concede up front that the years of earth and dust between the last time I dimmed the already pretty dim doorway of the Wednesday open mic prevents this moment from being as emotional and, indeed, cathartic as it well could be, but the memories and music built in that space during my post 21, but still formative years deserve acknowledgement on these pages.
Now, as the writer I used to and strive to be, it used to be one of my few (but admittedly super passive) pet peeves when someone would start a paragraph along the lines of "I'm not sure where to begin," but the crutch almost feels appropriate here... almost.
I was on some sort of college break when Ben, Jay, and I think Jake at the time, let me in on this potent music space they had been exploring by night each Wednesday night. None of us had jobs or commitments of true merit, so a mid-week late evening jam session with $4 specials on beer that didn't taste of rainwater was somewhat of a utopia and lo, on that evening and most others, we drove down to the Velvet lounge with instruments in tow to share songs and smiles. Rare was the week that at least some combination of our group didn't make it over there for an hour or several. It became a mainstay of the week, but more importantly, a strong community to cultivate music with and from.
I'm fortunate to have some of most talented friends in the world, in my opinion, and I would trade that for the world and I'm grateful. Also, modesty aside, I'd like to believe that there's a reason we found each other. I'd like to believe I fill that void for them, too. With that said, some of the most profound musical performances I've ever heard have been performed in that venue by complete strangers, some of whom I've never seen again.
From a theremin performance of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" after which it was unanimously decided Wong was born to play the instrument, to a call and response session with hand-drum goddess, Edwina that I don't think any of us have truly recovered from, a lot of the memories I have from the nights spent there have absolutely nothing to do with the songs we played there. Genuinely. To be honest, that's what frightens the heck out of me about the few open mics I do make it to nowadays. (I'm more or less a staple at Crazy Beans 8 Thursdays out of 10, but other than that a lot of my open mic travels atrophied.) So many of these kids, (16 to 20, I'd guess) spend so much time making sure their practiced and tuned up and listening to each other play that I promise you, they are missing out on the wisdom and skills of other performers (not me, to be clear) that could potentially shape the direction they go as musicians. Now, making sure your sound is on point is important, but not at the expense of missing out on what the community of what an open mic is all about in the first place. Like I said, I think I have some of the most talented friends in world, but I'm so glad I've heard more musicians than them in my life. It has helped be define who I am and want to be as a my own musician, as modest as that hill of beans is. In short, there is no excuse for repeatedly coming inside to hear a friend perform, leaving immdiately afterwards and then waiting outside for another friend to play. I promise you, young world (as if being 26 implies wisdom), you are missing out on so much!
That small PSA out of line, a final reflection on the Velvet Lounge that shaped a large part of a small piece of my life, and a toast to the good times shared by better friends. I take pride in being the only non-Jewish member of the He-bros and I remember dearly the Evening News setting the energy level each night and watching the night grow from there.
I remember fondly Dallas slithering on the floor when not playing his bass. I remember fondly being absolutely all about it on some nights and utterly bewildered by it on most others.
I remember fondly every 2 minute "let's practice the songs real quick" session Jay Kaplan ever called in the parking lot before inviting everyone and anyone up on stage to play with us. It was that kind of openness that we were all about and a lot of nights we really captured lightning in a bottle. With that said, some nights I don't doubt we sounded like outright miscellaneous Sun Ra bonus tracks. Why did we practice in the first place? Good, good laughs.
I remember fondly Wong and Kat singing "Hotel California." If only Jonanne could hear his Mulligan.
I remember fondly Ben's Wagon Wheel dedication to his sister.
I remember fondly Jake being who he is and always being proud
I remember fondly and still with a cringe a person who shall remain nameless drinking random final sips of other people's alcohol to maintain an ever fleeting buzz.
I remember fondly singing in the style of Big Willy.
I remember fondly watching a person who imbibed in one too many brews lean on what he though was a solid wall and instead falling through a push door like a bullet through tissue paper, bringing the whole venue to a momentary halt.
I remember freestyling on a weekly basis. I remember never having to use the phrase, "What the fuck is a Wanksta? You best believe I ain't giving you that answer."
I remember Max trying to high five Jay in middle of him playing a song. Over and over and over and over again.
I remember Bogdan and his knowledge of home economics.
I remember swinging by after an Islanders game, drinking three beers on an empty stomach in what I thought was a lot longer than 40 minutes and wondering why the heck I felt so buzzed up. (Noelle was driving.)
I remember being in a relationship while Jay was single and letting two very pretty Swedish girls leave our table while Jay went to the bathroom. I was wrapped up in the music and straight up didn't even notice. Jay was justifiably equal parts miffed and shocked. I definitely blew it.
I remember Emily letting me know the time I just shook hands with someone who didn't wash their hands after using the bathroom. Good looks, Em.
I remember asking Jay to teach me how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew, thinking it would be four syllables or less. I remember resolving to learn how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew some other time.
I remember singing and rapping my heart out with my best friends.
I remember
I'll never forget.
Song of the Day: The Way The Lazy Do - Dr. Dog
Jazz Song of the Day: Sleeping Giant - Ben Allison
Now, as the writer I used to and strive to be, it used to be one of my few (but admittedly super passive) pet peeves when someone would start a paragraph along the lines of "I'm not sure where to begin," but the crutch almost feels appropriate here... almost.
I was on some sort of college break when Ben, Jay, and I think Jake at the time, let me in on this potent music space they had been exploring by night each Wednesday night. None of us had jobs or commitments of true merit, so a mid-week late evening jam session with $4 specials on beer that didn't taste of rainwater was somewhat of a utopia and lo, on that evening and most others, we drove down to the Velvet lounge with instruments in tow to share songs and smiles. Rare was the week that at least some combination of our group didn't make it over there for an hour or several. It became a mainstay of the week, but more importantly, a strong community to cultivate music with and from.
I'm fortunate to have some of most talented friends in the world, in my opinion, and I would trade that for the world and I'm grateful. Also, modesty aside, I'd like to believe that there's a reason we found each other. I'd like to believe I fill that void for them, too. With that said, some of the most profound musical performances I've ever heard have been performed in that venue by complete strangers, some of whom I've never seen again.
From a theremin performance of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" after which it was unanimously decided Wong was born to play the instrument, to a call and response session with hand-drum goddess, Edwina that I don't think any of us have truly recovered from, a lot of the memories I have from the nights spent there have absolutely nothing to do with the songs we played there. Genuinely. To be honest, that's what frightens the heck out of me about the few open mics I do make it to nowadays. (I'm more or less a staple at Crazy Beans 8 Thursdays out of 10, but other than that a lot of my open mic travels atrophied.) So many of these kids, (16 to 20, I'd guess) spend so much time making sure their practiced and tuned up and listening to each other play that I promise you, they are missing out on the wisdom and skills of other performers (not me, to be clear) that could potentially shape the direction they go as musicians. Now, making sure your sound is on point is important, but not at the expense of missing out on what the community of what an open mic is all about in the first place. Like I said, I think I have some of the most talented friends in world, but I'm so glad I've heard more musicians than them in my life. It has helped be define who I am and want to be as a my own musician, as modest as that hill of beans is. In short, there is no excuse for repeatedly coming inside to hear a friend perform, leaving immdiately afterwards and then waiting outside for another friend to play. I promise you, young world (as if being 26 implies wisdom), you are missing out on so much!
That small PSA out of line, a final reflection on the Velvet Lounge that shaped a large part of a small piece of my life, and a toast to the good times shared by better friends. I take pride in being the only non-Jewish member of the He-bros and I remember dearly the Evening News setting the energy level each night and watching the night grow from there.
I remember fondly Dallas slithering on the floor when not playing his bass. I remember fondly being absolutely all about it on some nights and utterly bewildered by it on most others.
I remember fondly every 2 minute "let's practice the songs real quick" session Jay Kaplan ever called in the parking lot before inviting everyone and anyone up on stage to play with us. It was that kind of openness that we were all about and a lot of nights we really captured lightning in a bottle. With that said, some nights I don't doubt we sounded like outright miscellaneous Sun Ra bonus tracks. Why did we practice in the first place? Good, good laughs.
I remember fondly Wong and Kat singing "Hotel California." If only Jonanne could hear his Mulligan.
I remember fondly Ben's Wagon Wheel dedication to his sister.
I remember fondly Jake being who he is and always being proud
I remember fondly and still with a cringe a person who shall remain nameless drinking random final sips of other people's alcohol to maintain an ever fleeting buzz.
I remember fondly singing in the style of Big Willy.
I remember fondly watching a person who imbibed in one too many brews lean on what he though was a solid wall and instead falling through a push door like a bullet through tissue paper, bringing the whole venue to a momentary halt.
I remember freestyling on a weekly basis. I remember never having to use the phrase, "What the fuck is a Wanksta? You best believe I ain't giving you that answer."
I remember Max trying to high five Jay in middle of him playing a song. Over and over and over and over again.
I remember Bogdan and his knowledge of home economics.
I remember swinging by after an Islanders game, drinking three beers on an empty stomach in what I thought was a lot longer than 40 minutes and wondering why the heck I felt so buzzed up. (Noelle was driving.)
I remember being in a relationship while Jay was single and letting two very pretty Swedish girls leave our table while Jay went to the bathroom. I was wrapped up in the music and straight up didn't even notice. Jay was justifiably equal parts miffed and shocked. I definitely blew it.
I remember Emily letting me know the time I just shook hands with someone who didn't wash their hands after using the bathroom. Good looks, Em.
I remember asking Jay to teach me how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew, thinking it would be four syllables or less. I remember resolving to learn how to say "Happy New Year" in Hebrew some other time.
I remember singing and rapping my heart out with my best friends.
I remember
I'll never forget.
Song of the Day: The Way The Lazy Do - Dr. Dog
Jazz Song of the Day: Sleeping Giant - Ben Allison
Sunday, December 20, 2015
My Stress Level's Dublin
Already well over a month ago, I had unique opportunity to hop a pond to Dublin, Ireland and explore the land Guinness and things that get fuzzy after too many Guinnesses. I took this sojourn as the organizer of a trip for two humble groups of about 250 people from throughout the US as their reward for hard work throughout out the year placing students on exchange programs in said US. The task is genuinely as daunting as it sounds, but it takes a team effort and I'm grateful for the help I had along the way to make the trip a reality. Just to formally etch their names in lore, Doug and Stu are top-notch people and friends. I owe no small bit of the trip's success to their capable helping hands. Now, the one thing I will say about this trip is that a lot of the truly difficult work is taken care of prior to arrival in Dublin. Once there, there are certainly things to organize and situations that arise, but provided you put in the work up front, as long as you keep a smile on your face, head on a swivel, and shirts ironed (two out of three ain't bad) the trip kind of just gets done in its own lumbering way.
In addition to the trip being a great opportunity to see a foreign country, it is also a great opportunity to get see members of our field and check in on them once a year. I really treasure that chance, as after three years, I've grown to consider a vast majority of them some great acquaintances and it's great to hear how things are going in their neck of the woods. Just so this doesn't sound too much like a PSA, there is also a vast minority of people that I'm relieved I only see once a year, but overall it's wonderful. It's amazing how many different people and ways of life can be found in our own country.
Now, as much as this trip is about catching up with people I rarely see, the most surreal meet up came courtesy of someone who used to share my same zip code and almost a decade later, we meet on the other end of the world. Through the magic of social media, I noted that Jen Hnatov also happened to be in Dublin in an overlapping time frame and we made a point to meet up, catch up, and drink up, in a buzzing Dublin pub as live music was played. As great to see Jen as ever, as she and her friends were very accommodating and made me feel quite welcome. A great time to say the least. It would have been great to catch up with Jen regardless, but incidentally she spent some time living in Seattle. A place I must see and get to know. Conversation was at no shortage.
The five general notes I'll make about Dublin are as follows:
1. There is live music everywhere from about 2 pm to 2 am. And we're talking quality live music. I remember walking around Rome and hearing people play and frankly, with all modesty aside, thinking that if you gave me, Jay, Zach, and Ben the plane ticket, we would clean up here. In Dublin, to be clear, I still had similar feelings, but I found myself thinking in addition to the plane ticket that we would need about a month or two to truly get tight before jumping into something like that. Awesome and diverse sounds. Everywhere.
2. Dublin was such a relief in the sense that it was conceivably a city that you could walk around and say that you've seen. "Frustrating" is not the perfect word, but one of the frustrating things about last year's trip to London was that people would (for good reason) ask me where to go to eat or where certain tourist spots could be found. Too often my response was, "The tube is *insert directions here* the sheer size of the city made it near impossible to wrap my head around in the mere 24 hour head start I have on these people in terms of arrival. In Dublin, dare I say I was able to sound quite astute and knowledgeable (a poker face is everything) and point out where notable things were. Sounds like a small thing, but made a world of difference.
3. The Guinness difference is not lip service. There is a difference in the quality of Guinness in Dublin and everywhere else. With that said, it's only going to bump up your appreciation by a notch or two. If you think Guinness in dog piss in the states, you're going to think that the Guinness in Dublin is creamier dog piss. (There's an image... sorry about that). If you think Guinness is pretty good here, you'll think it's good there... good to great... great to unreal.. etc. In short the difference is a little overblown, even at the Hershey Chocolate Factory of beer, Guinness Storehouse, but it's definitely not a lie.
4. I say this with no intention of being cute or funny, but you almost forget the magnitude of the history of violence in Dublin. There were perfectly tranquil parts of the city where you would see a statue of note and the tour guide would give you a brief history of the site, which often ended with "and that's where this amount of people died." It's astounding and pretty heartbreaking. It'll suck the life out of a room.
5. The security on the streets of Dublin, specifically Temple Bar, is unreal. They have bouncer types at each pub door, as well as a floater security guy about every half block. They all have earpieces and are interconnected. This is a culture centered around the drink and they prepare accordingly. It's fascinating to see in action.
In terms of more personal stories about the city, it was definitely great to socialize with Stu, office mates, board, and the field, I made sure to get one late night in Dublin crossed off my list, but with the exception a dear friend getting a little too squeamish about the sight of his own blood and Stu misjudging some steps and almost completely wiping out, I can't say things got very wild. One, I'm there on business and that's not lost on me, but two, I actually picked up a whale of a cold and I tried to spend every moment that wasn't centered around me tending to the quality of the trip sleeping and relaxing. I'll get the wild nights in Dublin out of my system next time.
For as much hard work as this trip is, I often say that the only truly brutal day once in Europe is the group check in day. In short, there are a lot of cogs in motion that day and not much down time to address it all cleanly. Fortunately, everything went fine on that day and I made the call that evening to my sister (due to the time difference, it was still appropriate to give a call and an update) and no sooner had the words "it should all be relatively down hill from here" come out of my mouth when I received a text stating that a member of our field had slipped and broken her hip. My heart sank and I understand that woman is on the road to recovery and I wish her well. You genuinely could not have scripted that moment any better (worse?).
Great tunes and times in Dublin. My thanks to all involved.
I went a bit out of order here, as Jake and Kaitlin's wedding was but a day before my Dublin departure. Update coming there soon.
Random Memory of the Post: The night itself was nothing too special, but rarely have I laughed harder than the early-college summer evening where Kozak kept accidentally calling the short-lived McDonald's Snack Wraps "Snap Racks." Had me in stitches at the Sguera home.
Song of the Day: Don't Ride That Horse - Old Crow Medicine Show
Jazz Song of the Day: So In Love - Chick Corea Akoustic Band
In addition to the trip being a great opportunity to see a foreign country, it is also a great opportunity to get see members of our field and check in on them once a year. I really treasure that chance, as after three years, I've grown to consider a vast majority of them some great acquaintances and it's great to hear how things are going in their neck of the woods. Just so this doesn't sound too much like a PSA, there is also a vast minority of people that I'm relieved I only see once a year, but overall it's wonderful. It's amazing how many different people and ways of life can be found in our own country.
Now, as much as this trip is about catching up with people I rarely see, the most surreal meet up came courtesy of someone who used to share my same zip code and almost a decade later, we meet on the other end of the world. Through the magic of social media, I noted that Jen Hnatov also happened to be in Dublin in an overlapping time frame and we made a point to meet up, catch up, and drink up, in a buzzing Dublin pub as live music was played. As great to see Jen as ever, as she and her friends were very accommodating and made me feel quite welcome. A great time to say the least. It would have been great to catch up with Jen regardless, but incidentally she spent some time living in Seattle. A place I must see and get to know. Conversation was at no shortage.
The five general notes I'll make about Dublin are as follows:
1. There is live music everywhere from about 2 pm to 2 am. And we're talking quality live music. I remember walking around Rome and hearing people play and frankly, with all modesty aside, thinking that if you gave me, Jay, Zach, and Ben the plane ticket, we would clean up here. In Dublin, to be clear, I still had similar feelings, but I found myself thinking in addition to the plane ticket that we would need about a month or two to truly get tight before jumping into something like that. Awesome and diverse sounds. Everywhere.
2. Dublin was such a relief in the sense that it was conceivably a city that you could walk around and say that you've seen. "Frustrating" is not the perfect word, but one of the frustrating things about last year's trip to London was that people would (for good reason) ask me where to go to eat or where certain tourist spots could be found. Too often my response was, "The tube is *insert directions here* the sheer size of the city made it near impossible to wrap my head around in the mere 24 hour head start I have on these people in terms of arrival. In Dublin, dare I say I was able to sound quite astute and knowledgeable (a poker face is everything) and point out where notable things were. Sounds like a small thing, but made a world of difference.
3. The Guinness difference is not lip service. There is a difference in the quality of Guinness in Dublin and everywhere else. With that said, it's only going to bump up your appreciation by a notch or two. If you think Guinness in dog piss in the states, you're going to think that the Guinness in Dublin is creamier dog piss. (There's an image... sorry about that). If you think Guinness is pretty good here, you'll think it's good there... good to great... great to unreal.. etc. In short the difference is a little overblown, even at the Hershey Chocolate Factory of beer, Guinness Storehouse, but it's definitely not a lie.
4. I say this with no intention of being cute or funny, but you almost forget the magnitude of the history of violence in Dublin. There were perfectly tranquil parts of the city where you would see a statue of note and the tour guide would give you a brief history of the site, which often ended with "and that's where this amount of people died." It's astounding and pretty heartbreaking. It'll suck the life out of a room.
5. The security on the streets of Dublin, specifically Temple Bar, is unreal. They have bouncer types at each pub door, as well as a floater security guy about every half block. They all have earpieces and are interconnected. This is a culture centered around the drink and they prepare accordingly. It's fascinating to see in action.
In terms of more personal stories about the city, it was definitely great to socialize with Stu, office mates, board, and the field, I made sure to get one late night in Dublin crossed off my list, but with the exception a dear friend getting a little too squeamish about the sight of his own blood and Stu misjudging some steps and almost completely wiping out, I can't say things got very wild. One, I'm there on business and that's not lost on me, but two, I actually picked up a whale of a cold and I tried to spend every moment that wasn't centered around me tending to the quality of the trip sleeping and relaxing. I'll get the wild nights in Dublin out of my system next time.
For as much hard work as this trip is, I often say that the only truly brutal day once in Europe is the group check in day. In short, there are a lot of cogs in motion that day and not much down time to address it all cleanly. Fortunately, everything went fine on that day and I made the call that evening to my sister (due to the time difference, it was still appropriate to give a call and an update) and no sooner had the words "it should all be relatively down hill from here" come out of my mouth when I received a text stating that a member of our field had slipped and broken her hip. My heart sank and I understand that woman is on the road to recovery and I wish her well. You genuinely could not have scripted that moment any better (worse?).
Great tunes and times in Dublin. My thanks to all involved.
I went a bit out of order here, as Jake and Kaitlin's wedding was but a day before my Dublin departure. Update coming there soon.
Random Memory of the Post: The night itself was nothing too special, but rarely have I laughed harder than the early-college summer evening where Kozak kept accidentally calling the short-lived McDonald's Snack Wraps "Snap Racks." Had me in stitches at the Sguera home.
Song of the Day: Don't Ride That Horse - Old Crow Medicine Show
Jazz Song of the Day: So In Love - Chick Corea Akoustic Band
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