Author: chris

last night laura and i went to see smog play at emo’s in austin.  i guess i go to see a lot of shows, with great irregularity, and all the shows i go to aren’t necessarily essentials–that is, in deciding to go, it wasn’t a do-or-die situation.  going to see smog, however, was very much do-or-die, whether sick and vomiting or covered in boils, kind of thing.  i’ve never met someone who didn’t hear of them through me (or through those from whom i learned of smog) so anyone who reads this will probably not have ever heard of him.  it’s okay, we can do this.

this show was played inside emo’s.  emo’s has an outdoor stage and an indoor.  the indoor is significantly smaller, and usually, as far as i know, local bands play in there a lot.  hearing the news that smog was playing in these cramped quarters led me to believe that the fact that no one has heard of them did not come from the fact that i have very little interaction with very many people, but rather that people have, indeed, never heard of him.  which is a strange fact, because he’s been releasing albums since 1990.  this enigma was cleared up when they stepped on stage to play.

bill callahan is the creator of smog.  on his early albums that he recorded on his own, he was the only musician.  i think this has changed, but he’s still the highest entity in smog.  as he stepped on stage, he made me realize that i am no where close to being a man.  he wore sharp but rugged cowboy boots, brown pants, a button up white shirt (which was buttoned down to the point where, had it been one button lower, i’m sorry–that would have been too much), and a nice brown jacket.  he had a martin acoustic slung over his shoulders, pulled up a little awkwardly high.

as they started playing, and bill made no comments whatsoever, it became clear why they aren’t widely known: bill just doesn’t give a damn.  don’t take this the wrong way.  he loves music, you can tell.  and he loves to play his music.  but if you don’t like it, well…to quote a song he played, fuck you all.

he played about 8 songs i had never heard.  i thought this was simply because of the fact that of the 11 albums he has, i only have 6, until a rather rude drunk shouted out, “play something you actually recorded.” the drummer and bassist looked up at bill.  he must have heard it, everyone in the building must have heard it, but there was no sign that it registered, and he immediately started playing another song.  you see, bill doesn’t give a damn.  he didn’t even have any merchandise to sell.  i don’t think bill buys into this whole music-for-money crap.

the drummer was very fun to watch.  at least…not he himself, just his drumming.  his shirt, unlike bill’s, was unbottoned much too far so that his garden of chest hair blossomed out and dripped sweat.  however, i have found that the best drummers are hard to look at.  he looked and played like he belonged in a jazz band.  a real jazz band…not that soft jazz garbage. the bassist was a frail looking woman who sat in a chair in the shadows.

he played about 6 songs that i knew for certain were his–including ‘dress sexy at my funeral,’ ‘vessel in vain,’ and, the song which i guess he’s most known for, ‘cold blooded old times’ (you know it from the movie high fidelity). really great ending, where bill and the drummer went crazy. so did the kid in front of me, who was going into violent convulsions as the song sped up.  we knew this to be his last song–he had been playing for over an hour and a half, with breaks lasting no more than 10 seconds (and no banter other than “thank you” or “this song is…” and even those were rare) and was told he could play 2 more songs (to which he replied “one.”)  when he finished, the crowd parted and the band walked through this new hallway.  it was understood that there would be no encore, and it wasn’t even a disappointment. even if it was, bill didn’t give a damn.

(not a recent photo.  just, leave me alone.)

i went to the delgados show last night by myself.  laura had to study for a test, troy ditched me rather callously, laura’s roommate had prior engagements, and anyone else who might have enjoyed the show that i know i meet in class and don’t have their phone numbers.  so, after hearing on an online radio show that the show should not be missed, i decided to go.

from the look of it, most people turned up for the two opening acts, ‘what made milwauke famous’ and ‘crooked fingers.’  the girl i met, i forget her name…maybe delaina…it was an odd name…had never heard of the delgados.  when they finally got onstage the room was about half empty.  this show was at emo’s, and every other time i’ve been at emo’s it’s been packed for the headlining act.

this didn’t seem to distract the band, which i really think is cool of them.  i’ve been to shows where everyone leaves when the band is playing, and they get all pouty and get off the stage as soon as possible to sulk backstage.  the delgados didn’t…even though there was not a huge group of fans, we were still loyal fans and the band seemed to really enjoy themselves.  they even came back for a brief encore.  the female singer is short, and her guitar sometimes looks too big for her when she’s rocking on it.  i can’t help myself, that’s so cute.  she really has a beautiful voice.

for the opening acts i was sitting on a car seat in the back, one of those big ones from a van, by myself, when delaina came up and sat by me.  then charlie came over, a very happy drunk who had an odd habit of staring at me for an awkward amount of time after he said something, which made me look away, then look back, and he was still staring at me.  we angered a guy bootlegging the show because he was blocking our view and we asked him to move.  he didn’t seem too happy about it.  sigh.  all these indie losers.  are these the people i have things in common with??

anyway, i hope that the leaving of  people doesn’t keep the delgados away…i want to see them every time they come through town, and you should too.

 
 as i parked and walked to the club a crackhead came up and told me he was a published author and poet, and then spliced several different poems randomly together and recited it for me…it wasn’t even all poetry.  i think he quoted some of the talking asshole from naked lunch in there somewhere.  i gave him a dollar to go away, and as he took the dollar he looked at my shirt, a neutral milk hotel shirt, and started talking about aboriginees.  i walked away and he danced off down the street, singing of australia and funny hats.

i got a piece of mail in my mailbox that wasn’t mine, it was my neighbor’s.  he’s this guy who is about 40 years old.  he hardly ever talks when i see him and he keeps to himself.  anyway, the addressee on the piece of mail was “Kathy” something.  his name is not kathy.  maybe he murdered her.  maybe her body is rotting away under his bed, or on his bed.  maybe he has post mortem sex with her body.  maybe he stuffed her in the freezer and is eating her slowly.  no, that couldn’t be, the freezers are tiny.  but it has to be along these lines.  well, this will have to be investigated further.

when soldering with lead solder, is it bad that your lungs feel funny when you breathe? they don’t hurt…it feels very clean.  maybe this is the first stage of dying.  i soldered my speaker wires together, because i was extending them, and i burned the tip of my middle finger in the process.  maybe my wits are shot because i’m dying.

i’m buying bob dylan’s cds in order.  the times they are a-changin’ is his third.  i did cheat through the course of my life, and i have about four other cds from here and there, but i’m trying to stay on course.  it takes me about 3-6 months before i get the next one.  also, i get his bootleg series as they come out.  maybe compulsive collecting is a first sign of dying.

okay, i was going to wait to post this til at least midnight, so it was tomorrow, but oh well. who cares. so i posted the giant thumb. i struggled with the title. first it was just “giant thumb,” then “a giant thumb,” then “bread pudding thumbnail crumbs,” then to what you see now, “the giant thumb.”

this story sits very strangely with me.  i want to laugh hysterically whenever i read it (in fact, i was typing it in a computer lab and i kept bursting out in laughter as i typed it.  people gave me dirty looks. but i’m in the computer science computer lab, and people in this lab tend to be indians, from india, who don’t always speak english well.  can you imagine how difficult reading one of my stories would be to a student who was somewhat learning english? so anyway, i didn’t tell them why i was laughing.  instead, i grabbed the keyboard and mouse and glared at them, as if they were trying to steal them.)

the summer after my 8th grade year, i started making friends that were upperclass high school students (you see, i never had any good friends throughout junior high, so i tried to look to high school for friends.  i was very sad.).  i hoped that they would start calling me “thumbs” because i wanted a nickname, so i stuck my thumbs out a lot. i’d practice sticking them out while doing lots of things: walking, playing guitar, writing, anything.  this is a true story, and they never called me “thumbs,” and, thankfully, i don’t think i ever told them i wanted them to. 

i’m really sick of talking about thumbs now.

i just posted cleaning. this is the story which i am afraid will become reality.  let us hope it does not, for hope is all we have left.

i wrote another story yesterday about a giant thumb but i have yet to type it. actually, i did type it, but my computer had another massive hemorrhage again before i could save it, so i’m going to have to type it again.  laura thinks the story is funny, but i find it rather traumatizing.

i have a new story to post on the site. i might do it tonight…but i am genuinely afraid that the posting of this specific story will turn it into reality and that the horrible tragedy that occurs within it will really happen and i will be left, after having gone insane, having to clean up the…

well, i don’t want to spoil it for you.

also, life has mimicked online life.  i don’t call people back when they call me, because i am a bad person and forget almost everything that occurs from day to day.  in such a way, i am very bad about leaving comments on other people’s xangas when they have left one on mine, which i consider a very rude thing to do but sometimes i just forget, though i always read their xangas.  sigh.  if this is you, i appologize for my inherent rudeness.

today, as of about 40 minutes ago, i am 21 years old.  a legal adult in all states.  i am drinking bailey’s irish cream, an excellent drink that all should drink and enjoy, which is reminding me of sitting in front of the christmas tree at my girlfriend’s house talking to her and her mother while sipping on this very drink and talking until very early in the morning. if i didn’t have to get up at 7:50 i’d be more happy, but i’m happy enough as it is.  not giddy…happy. and the rain is coming down in angry fluries outside and is blowing some of my more top-heavy plants onto the porch.  i got freaks and geeks for my birthday from laura’s dad, and i am mourning the fact that it was only on air for two seasons.  it is infinitely better than all the drivel OC and CSI could ever hope to create.

i got the new crooked rain crooked rain set for one dollar, and it is fantastic.

sadly, i have to leave my accounting class today so i can register for classes.  but this isn’t interesting. 

what is interesting is johnny the homicidal maniac.  it’s a comic that pulls at my heart strings through its depth of insight into the human soul.  it’s one of the several books i’ve bought in the last few days.  i miss reading my own books, so the textbooks are going on the shelf for now.

if we never get back to california, i want you to know i love you.

when i stopped at waterloo on the way to the clinic show, i got a few cds, of course.

i found a few good ones that i had sort of been looking for.  but the most annoying is the one i am listening to, veda hille (this is her only album).  it has been in the used bin for literally about a year.  i’ve seen it in the a section, the p section, the t section, and i ALWAYS notice it.  it always catches my eye.  so it caught my eye again, and it was marked down to 2 dollars.  FINE, I’LL BUY IT.  so i bought the dirty little thing.  it’s not bad, or great.  there are some fairly good songs.  she’s also a lesbian feminist i believe, from what i’ve read.  but the important thing is that it is out of the stinking used bin.

and for the weekend: listening to remaining cds bought, finish at least one of the art pieces i’ve been threatening to finish for the website and scan it on, and if i have time in there maybe do homework. although i did just get the new mcsweeney’s, which i need to be reading…