My Epic Friday Warrants An Epic Blog Post.

I don't sleep enough.
To know me is to know this.
I'm a night owl who has to live an adult life during the day. I feel like I'm leading a double life-- and I mean that in the least melodramatic way possible.
During the day, I run errands and go to a job that I sometimes hate, somewhat enjoy, but merely tolerate, overall. At night, I do journalism stuff. I use whatever energy I have left to run a moderately successful music journalism website. I spend a lot more time than I'd like to publicly discuss trying to find new bands and worthwhile music news.

To get vain and quote myself: Good music exists, you just have to spend a little more time sorting through the shit to find it. It’s not the sorting through shit that we love, but the gold that lies beneath.

Exactly.

I've been subsisting on approximately three hours of sleep per night all week.
(I do not recommend it.)

Today was tired. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, my shit was vacant today. I have been running on fumes and instinct for about two days now and it's catching up with me. Even I can look at my face and see how tired I am.
Rough.
But today the payoff was... incendiary.

I was asked to write for a media blog. A media blog which pays people to write for it.
I'd guess that it'll only be enough money to cover AM's* hosting expenses, but I'm fine with that. I'm not trying to get rich, I just want to eventually make a living off of doing what I love. And this is certainly a start.
I've been published, but I've never been paid for it.
I once read that you know you're doing things right when someone offers to pay you for your art. People can compliment you for free. Once someone is willing to offer something of theirs in order to own something of yours, you're creating something worth having-- even if only to that person.
So if I could pour this feeling all over the floor, I'd roll around in it for the next three days.
I have butterflies.
The offer alone means the world to me.

I hope one day AM can make enough money for me to pay people in some way.

[*I am not using the website's full name because I don't want people Googling it and ending up here. Hell no. I feel better when I'm just a faceless writer for the site who has a name and no personal life.]

A few hours after being asked to write for the media blog, Butch Walker's marketing manager emailed us and offered up all kinds of publicity stuff on Butch.
UM.
I have been looking for this fool's email address for just over a year. And don't think I don't know how to stalk down an email address. I do-- sometimes too well. Sometimes I look downright creepy.
But he somehow found us and then emailed us information on one of my TOP TEN FAVORITE ARTISTS.

I don't even try to deny it on the site. In fact, I publicize it.


feel free to fall in love somewhere right around 2:54 and 3:30; musicians who are talented enough to sing without microphones = sweet spot for me. hooray.

I have this list of musicians that I can die happy if I get to interview:
Jack White.
Ernie Halter (I literally had to walk off the excitement after I got the confirmation email for that interview.)
Steven Tyler
Will Hoge
Rivers Cuomo
Kele Okereke
Cody Chesnutt
Butch Walker... (the list is kinda long. I'll end it here.)

Some musicians just have minds that were built for music.
Jack White is undeniably one of those people, for instance.
I think some people are musicians simply because they like music and they happen to be good at it. But other people become musicians because they have no choice but to make music.

That list of musicians can differ for us all, but for me, that's a very abbreviated list of the artists that will last-- at least for me. So I am beyond flattered that anyone who works for Butch Walker would decide to email us. That. is whoa.

It was only two things but they were big things that rocked my day and made me feel like something special is happening.
I'm a little emotional about it.
Though I don't have kids, I'd imagine this is what it feels like when your genius child wins some really great award.

Anyway. Just for fun, I've interviewed both of them:



If I'm here to record my accomplishments and navel-gaze, I'd like for you to get something out of it, too.

I Love Lamp.

That was part of my walk today. It was really sunny and nice out but kind of gloomy in a weird way.
I took it with my phone.

The Coachella lineup was announced around midnight and I've been busy since.
It is now nearing 5 am and my eyeballs are on fire.
Tired.
Tired.
Tired.
But it's Coachella, man. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

We'll see what happens.

Because I Spend More Time In My Head Than Out Of It...

[Ed. Note: I'd half-intended to eventually post this as an Expose Yourself on the website, but I then found out that the person I wrote it about is an avid reader of the site. And I'm just not ready to get that honest...]


i can't find a normal video of the song, but the emphasis is on the music, not Powder.


I can't figure out what this song is really supposed to be about, which turns it into a Rorschach inkblot test for me.
I think it's about this guy who really loves this girl, despite their horrible relationship and its circumstances. They break up, he realizes that he can't live without her, and they get back together. He promises to make the love bigger than their pettiness and they try it again, only to find that he just really isn't happy with her, even though he really, really wants to be. Because he loves her.
I think that's what it's about.
... Or I could just be hanging my dirty laundry all over the Internet. It might not be about that at all.

There are few lyrics that break my heart faster than the first lines of this song.
I can't remember when it was good, moments of happiness elude.
Immediately my heart is snapped in half, and I'm along for the ride with him.

I saw Muse live on September 21st, 2006 in Vegas.
This song is proof that everything will come full circle eventually.
I can't think of anyone this song applies to more than the person who invited me to that concert.
I still get simultaneously queasy, and heartbroken, and all in love every time I hear "Hysteria".
Agh.
Muse.

"Falling Away With You" is easily one of my top ten favorite songs of all time. The only moment that I don't love it is the moment that I realize that it's ended.
Again, I could be wrong, but I think the song leads you through the whole process, from the initial breakup, through the regret, to the hope of when you get back together and know that it's going to be great, and... then you remember.
Like I said: full circle.

If I ever get to interview Matthew Bellamy, I am going to clarify what the song is about once and for all.
... Or maybe not. I have no idea what he's really talking about, so in that, he can be talking about anything-- he can be talking about exactly what I need him to be talking about. "Falling Away With You" is a blatant reminder of a lot of things for me. As I understand it, there's a lot of wisdom in the song, and I've been able to apply that wisdom to the un-patched holes and unconnected lines in my own life.

I'd really hate to have another "All Dead, All Dead" moment like I did with Queen.
When I found out that Brian May was inspired to write it after his cat died, I was a little scarred.
I love that song. A lot. It's another one of my favorite, favorite songs. And I understand the odd but real feeling of deep loss over a dead pet. But I really didn't want that song to be inspired by a cat.


but in hope i breathe...

Coachella.

The lineup is postponed and no one knows what the hell is going on.
But I would really, really like to go camping for three music-filled days in the desert of California.
Vacation of a lifetime? I'm thinking so.
I'm afraid I'm too old for Burning Man. I think that would've better suited me anytime from 18 through maybe 22. But now that I'm all geriatric and 25, I just wanna drink beer, hang out, listen to music, and write about it. That, in all honesty, is how I want to spend the rest of my life. That is my nirvana. So if you can add hanging out on a lawn and sunshine to that list, you've just exceeded my idea of heaven on Earth.

If I can't manage press passes, then we will meet in another, more financially optimistic year, Coachella.
In the meantime, I will get excited to the idea of you by perusing some person's super cool pictures from last year's Coachella festival.

I. want. in.

EDIT: Coachella lineup set to be announced at 7:20 am on KROQ. This race will be cutthroat, I just know it.

The One Where I Write About Fruit Phones, Primarily

I've done it.



I'm a Blackberry owner. Was it the most financially responsible choice I've made this year? Um... no. But managing my life was becoming increasingly problematic without access to real email-- attachments and all.
It had come down to a really intelligent phone or a laptop. So I made the more fiscally cognizant choice, even though choosing neither would've been the best choice of all.

Buyer's remorse is the story of my life.
I could've fed like, a whole African village for a month using what I just spent on that damn phone.
... I don't want to talk about it anymore. And if you see me on the street, do not hi-five me for my illogical purchase. I just needed it because I want to be a writer and I don't want to serve tables when I'm 76 and... and... agh.

I'll make it up to you, Africa. I promise.

I almost almost went for the Blackberry Bold, but there were more dollar signs in my eyes than there were in my wallet, so I needed to really reel it in.
I don't wanna be one of those assholes who has to make sure everyone sees her $2000 (I exaggerate) phone just to feel as if I'm getting something out of it. My status symbol will be that I enjoy making my life a little easier, not that I'm stupid enough to spend too much money on shit that I don't need.

In better news, I've fallen into a deep, dark, and wonderful pit of good music this week-- or maybe I'm just really open-minded right now.

I just wrote an almost complete update for the site in this general vicinity. That's no good. Read everything else I'd planned to blab about here instead.

Or (and?) just feel free to listen to one of my favorite (current) rock singers, Will Hoge:



... and pay close attention to 2:34. Because I feel the same. exact. way.

Perks.

My interview with Glasvegas was great. They are a really nice group of people-- so much so that they decided I was cool enough to attend the concert with a plus one, despite its sold out-edness and with complete disregard for fire safety ordinances. So, because of Glasvegas, I got to see Carl Barat play live. For free.


cornered, the boy kicked out at the world. the world kicked back a lot fuckin' harder.

Feel free to disagree, but this is a once in a lifetime-type experience for me. No matter what else I do in this life, I will have gotten to see Carl Barat play live in my home state because of Glasvegas.
That. is neat.

We spent a portion of the Glasvegas set standing next to Carl. Inside, I was a groupie who just wanted to be creepy and take pictures of him with my phone. Outside, I pretended to not notice by holding a conversation with a very cool photographer named Boone, who I still need to email.

Music journalism is the best thing I've ever done for myself.

Related: I am someone who loves to be busy. I love being too busy to be busy.
I only have time to talk about the time I don't have.
But this week has proven a bit overwhelming. To get things done, I have to travel-- but in traveling, I can't get anything done.
It's something I need to learn to juggle.

And! Dude. I saw Carl Barat play live.
I am crossing it off my List.
He's got kind of a see you in another life, brother/Desmond from Lost look about him, right? Maybe it's just the shirt. And the hair. And the face.

P.S. I really like Kelly Clarkson, but based on the rules I've set for the site, I can't write about her unless I have to. And I can't write about music that I don't like (-- which, I'm learning, means we have a lot less content than I'd like). That said, I can tell you here that Kelly Clarkson is better than her new song, "My Life Would Suck Without You". Way to not try, Clive Davis. We really do need more of that in the music industry...

Let's Get Vague.

I read something fantastic just now.
More or less, it talked about how things don't have to be dramatic to be great. Sometimes having fireworks in everything you do is more toxic than it is good.

If I can remember that and keep it in my back pocket for the rest of my life, things will improve exponentially in every way.
I won't be able to apply this to every situation that it should be applied to because I will get wrapped up in the fireworks and forget-- right up until I'm sad that I forgot this rule that I vowed to remember and am kicking myself for getting wrapped up in the fireworks. Again.

And such is life.

I'm tired of the rollercoaster.
Aren't you?

I'm going to Portland tomorrow to interview Glasvegas.
... Actually, no. I am going to Portland to see Andy for a few days. To lift the fog and to laugh. The Glasvegas interview was the catalyst, but it is not the reason.

I am leaving in 7 hours, and I have so much to do.
An intern would be fantastic.

They Come In Fours.

One. Though I never would really admit to the severity of it, I was totally one of those dog owners. In my cell phone pictures, I have a folder entitled "Sam." Because I am that kind of parent.


12.10.08

He is giving the camera the Crazy Eye.
He was vicious the worst guard dog ever. Don't let that picture fool you.

I didn't talk about him ad nauseum, but Samson was home. So I am still sad.


Two. On the second day of the new year, I was taking a walk and I saw got to be part of this:



Oregon is like that.
Just when you couldn't be more done and you think you've had all you can take, it hands you more beauty than you can handle.


Three. I can't write lately. I have too much to say and no one to say it to. So I am contemplating a trip to Andy on Sunday.
I like spending time with Evan and Andy. They make me laugh, and they're logical in a way that I can align myself with. When I have issues that need to be addressed, I like to make my way north and sit on their couch in my pajamas and vent. Or just watch tv with them.
... Both are equally as therapeutic.


Four. There are people who appear in the magazines and I don't know who they are. I've never seen anything they've done and their careers are over already. They're famous for maybe 10 minutes. Real careers, I think, take a long time to unfold. - Matt Damon.

I like Matt Damon. He wrote Good Will Hunting and that is a fantastic movie that lives close to my heart.


I could only aspire to write something so great.

So I have respect for Matt Damon as a writer. My greatest heroes are writers, so I hold that in high regard.
And though that quote is a pretty common sentiment, it came to me at just the right time. I would like to feel proud of whatever writing career I build for myself. I don't want to be rich by Thursday, and I don't want instant fame. But I do want to be able to be proud of what I've created, even if only for myself.
I'm cheesy and pretentious in that way.

I've been frustrated lately.
That quote helped.

Old Man Sam.

My dog just died.
He was my dog and I had him for almost ten years.

I'm sad about it.

The Birth Of A New Year, The Demise Of A Decade

Welcome to 2009. It's insane to think that the first decade of the second millennium is nearly over.

Once I disregard why today was lame, today was pretty fantastic. At midnight I was having fun in a roomful of strangers, vague acquaintances, and Friend. We got sloppy about screaming the countdown six seconds before The Ball dropped over NYC. It was a fun experience.
If I take the opportunity to do what we do on New Year's and reflect on times past, I realize that I haven't celebrated the new year in... maybe three years. My memory is hazy beyond that. But, yes. For at least the past few years, the New Year has rolled quietly over me like a wave of anti-excitement, and then I went to bed.

I don't mind it. I didn't cry myself to sleep any of those nights.
I have since made the transition that most of us make when we exit our crazy party days and choose a favorite pair of pajamas to make love to on a Friday night. There is a point when you realize that you are never missing as much fun as you think you are if you don't go out and party.
Fun times will be had, but they're usually pretty identical to the time before that. And the one before that. And then fun turns into repetition, and repetition turns into aching joints (25 is the new 56!), and aching joints turn into I'm-too-fucking-old-to-have-a-hangover-at-work-four-times-a-week.
No one wants to be That Guy. (Unless you are that guy. In which case, hi-five for maintaining the standard for the rest of us.)

But this year, it was fun. Because it wasn't a house party. We were all past our days of early-20s binge drinking and whatever goes along with that.
No one hooked up.
No fights broke out.
There was no girl drama.
No one got naked.
At midnight, we all gave one another hugs. Even the strangers. There was a bottle of Johnnie Walker Green on the table next to the Cuervo-- and I should point out that hardly anyone touched the Cuervo, which served as more of a death marker of days past than anyone's alcoholic beverage of choice.
It was a classy affair.

2007 was a pretty monumental year. It was a year of ideas. And travel.
2008 was a big one, too, because I got to put all of those ideas into action. And I still got to travel.
2009 is for building on all of that. And for seeing exactly what I'm capable of once I get out of my own way.
I really, truly cannot wait.

I'm breaking my previously quasi-pretentious resolution to not make resolutions (I thought they were just a clever procrastination device) and I'm making two (maybe three!) resolutions for 2009. I don't know what they are yet, but I want for them to be really good. I have some things in mind.

It's a new year and I'm happy about it. I feel like I'm at an alright place for being 25. I like being 25.
As it stands, the worst could get worse and the better is only getting better.