I think it was the Fourth of July

I could tell you all the details of my weekend, but I won't because it would probably be fairly boring for some of you. But I will say these things: the drive from Iowa City to Madison is lovely, Madison is a pretty sweet town, med school is long and expensive, "beer me _____" is the catch phrase of the trip, nothing beats laughing with old friends, Addison is the happiest baby I've ever known, I eat too much, the EHBS is doomed [what's new there], the odds are against me, sleeping on the floor sucks, orangutans are ugly and cute, Wisconsin drivers suck, Graham can grow facial hair and I can make the drive home despite being incredibly tired. With that being said, I would like to shed a little light on the phenomenon of the 104 men dancing to a certain tune.

During the first year of 104 we made friends with a young soccer player by the name of Evan, and he looked a bit like Elijah Wood, but that's not the point. Evan had a turntable and no where to put it, so he let us borrow it until he could make some room in his suite. He also loaned us his records. So we would sit in the Christmas-light lit room listening to Simon and Garfunkel, or let the courtyard hear some Zeppelin. It was good, quite good. One album was Chicago V, which contained the song Saturday in the Park. Several of the guys in the suite were already fans of the band and the song, so it got a fair amount of play.

I'm not sure who the first person was start dancing to Saturday in the Park, but it somehow caught on like wildfire. The only thing is that it could only be danced to on a Saturday. So here is what would happen. Friday night, after open dorm was over [it's one of those Christian colleges] we would all go out to Denny's, where most of us would order a Dagwood breakfast sandwich [yes! check this out], while others would order the inferior Moons over my Hammy. Then we would retreat to the suite of 104, where the album was locked, cocked and ready to be played.

Everyone had there own moves. I often stood atop the couch swinging my removed shirt over my head. Bradley mastered the Chris Farley Chip 'N Dale move [hop, twist, arms behind the head and hip thrust]. This was the move that I emulated this past Saturday night. Andrew, well, he had all sorts of wigged out moves. About three-quarters the way through, the song has a bit of a break down and starts off, "slow motion riders..", at this point we the dancers enter into slow motion mode and eventually work our way into a frenzy for the song's climax.

After a while Evan repossessed what was rightfully his and we made due with a cd, but it wasn't the same. It's the first track on the 104 mix cd that Brad made for us [also contains the Super Bowl Shuffle and the Farley sketch "El Nino"]. And for most every wedding celebration we've followed these guidelines and have left our heart and souls out on the dance floor. It's right, it's good [not safe] and it's beautiful. Maybe we'll get some video of it someday and put it up on the the 'ol YouTube. As for now, I'm wiped out from a tremendous four day weekend, hep! you have my love.

Ivy of poison

A couple of Saturdays ago I braved my own sense of discouragement and made a go at my first round of disc golf for the year. Seeing as it has been well over seven months since I've thrown and that last year my first throw resulted in the loss of one of my better discs, this round didn't seem too bad. That is until last Tuesday when I noticed a rash appearing in several places on my appendages. Yes, my first round of disc golf for the year happened to initiate my first round of poison ivy of the year. How convenient. Unfortunately, not having realized what I had contracted, I ran three miles on Sunday and biked for a half hour at the gym on Monday. Sweating profusely isn't the best remedy for the ivy.

On Wednesday my friend, and amateur botanist, Ryan informed me that poison ivy was at its most potent in its sprouting stages. I thought I could tough it out, and for the most part I did. Somehow this round of ivy barely itched at all, but yet was managing to spread itself without the help of my fingernails. By Friday I was ready to end it. I t had been a great week, weather wise, and was supposed to be nice most of the weekend and all I wanted to do was go running. If I didn't make a move on this ivy I wouldn't be running for several weeks. The nurse said the shot was going in my hip; it was not my hip. But then again she also said it would hurt, and it didn't hurt either.

With the ivy and a tight hamstring out of the way I was going to go running today. Except that it hasn't stopped raining long enough for me to get in a quick mile. Yeah, I could've gone to the gym, but I'm just not in the mood to run indoors. Tomorrow's forecast doesn't look much better. Thursday night is booked. My only hope is to get a run in before I get on the road Friday morning.

I realize that this might seem rather petty, I mean it's about me not being able to run, but it really has been one of the few things that has been going on in my life the past week. Lame, I know. But this coming weekend has got things looking up. After a phone call from Josh yesterday I was wishing I could leave for Wisconsin this morning. It certainly will be good to be in the company of the fam o' 104. Maybe clarity will come from such a journey, maybe not, but being with such people will be comfort enough. Also, I bought three tickets to the Wilco show in Davenport for the thirteenth of June, so I am opening up a contest [or something along those lines]. Let me know if you want to go and I will select two winners based on various requirements and whatnot [not a first come basis - sorry]. Okay, off to read more Harry Potter... [more addictive than crack cocaine]. you have my love.

Decisions and pants

I had a job interview yesterday. Surprise. Maybe that should be the other way around. Anyway. It was with Habitat for Humanity [Des Moines branch - duh] for a position that would work closely with faith centered organizations and volunteers and such. I think the interview went well, except when I blanked on the "describe yourself with three words" question [I don't recall my entire answer]. I'm a writer for goodness sake, I can't limit myself to three words. I once went three thousand words over the max word count for a paper. Regardless. They didn't offer me the position as they just made it publicly known that the job will be available in June. I only happened to hear about it through a friend who thought it would be a great fit for me. And it would, except...

You see, I'm twenty-five, I've got bills and I'm starting to get kind of nervous with this whole grownup thing, because it seems as though people start becoming responsible in all sorts of ways around this time of their lives. And I think maybe that might be a good idea. Well, this job is funded through Americorps and let's just say that the pay is less than optimal. Far less. I talked with someone who is in Americorps and she said that she is eligible for section eight housing. And it would totally be alright if one were to have some sort of stockpile of savings, and/or another person to help pay the bills. But I have neither.

So I weigh the options and the benefits of decisions and vocations. It's not a step up, maybe a step out? What do I want to do? Will I have time to do the things that I love? Will I have money to buy food? And though I am certainly leaning one way rather than the other, I have yet to make a choice. Or maybe I have and I'm not ready to admit it to myself. Yeah, that sounds about right. Or I might not be the one to make the decision. In the meantime if anyone wants to give me a job in any of the following cities, it'd be great, thanks: Des Moines, Ames, Portland [Oregon], Grand Rapids - "Grap" - [Michigan], Garmisch [Germany]. Side note: much appreciation to the sun for its recent bout of shininess, muchas gracias. you have my love.

Bend, reflect, refract

As I was moving slowly through the evening's rush hour traffic a couple nights ago I started thinking about guitar solos. First off, I am reading Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City, which has a lot to do with spandex, hair and killer guitar solos. Secondly, I was listening to one of my favorite guitar solos [see the list for the YLT song]. So I thought I would compile a short list of some of my favorite guitar solos. This is not a comprehensive list, I'm fairly positive that I'll recall a great solo tomorrow or the next day, and maybe I'll add it then, but probably not. And though I love a lot of the so-called great solos, I will let them have their own list, this one is personal. Even so, I couldn't think of any Wilco solos to put on it, oh well maybe in a few weeks. Last comment: this is interactive, please let me know some of your favorite solos. you have my love. [band, song, album, guitarist, reasoning]


Yo La Tengo, We're an American Band, I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, Ira Kaplan [assumption]: it just goes on and on and you begin to feel it within you.

Rancid, Maxwell Murder, ...And Out Come the Wolves, Matt Freeman: I realize that it's a bass solo, but it's freakin' incredible. Plus if you called Josh [Nibbles] circa fall of oh-oh you would probably get to hear it on his voicemail.

Cake, I will Survive, Fashion Nugget, Greg Brown: Really it's only in here because it's the first solo I tried to learn, I still remember some parts of it and it's been nearly ten years.

Neil Young, Cortez the Killer, Zuma, Neil Young: It's several minutes long and takes up most of the song. This is one of my favorite songs, and Young is one of my favorite musicians, highly influential to my love of music.

Quaker Gun, Guide to Overseas Travel, no album, Andrew Tucker: Yeah, Andy is my friend, but I'm not adding his solo to the list just because we're friends. Though the rest of the band doesn't care much for the song, it's one of my favorite QG songs, a great set closer too. Anyway, it has a lot of feedback, use of slide, and sometimes the mic stand is used in place of a slide. Great stuff.

My brain is blogged

You may have noticed over the past six months or so a slowing down of bloggage coming from this writer. I can't really explain it though. I mean, I'm only really busy on the nights of Wednesday through Saturday, so it leaves me several evenings and a few weekend days to blog, right? I guess. Anyway, often I sit down and look at a blank screen and mull over what to write about. Maybe how my weekend went, or what I thought of such and such books or movies. But that really isn't very exciting for me to write about or for my readers to read about. I have these five or six blog ideas written down that I'm waiting to write at just the right time, but I never seem to know what that time is.

I suppose it's kind of like my life right now. There are these plans and hopes and dreams [and pants] that there and are just waiting to be played out into my life. And I'm always just waiting on one or two more pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. The right job, the right woman [mid-twenties, likes to run, good taste in music, lit., film..?] or the right opportunity, whatever that means. And so those that wait continue to do such until an appropriate time. I wrote in my journal a while back that I wished that I could have an adventure of sorts; travel to Europe again, take road trip somewhere, eating something or other. As I was doing a bit of driving for work today I wondered how fun it would be to steal a sports car and drive it like I really did steal it [a short lived daydream].

I was thinking the other night about how a lot of time our days, weeks, documented-period-of-time is mostly made up of monotonous actions. I worry about that, but also realize that there are times in which my actions are meaningful and beautiful and all that other stuff. And so I dichotomize. I say that there are some things in my life that will just have to be monotonous [like work and pooping], and other things in my life will have for the sake of meaning and beauty and goodness and such [like blogging...?]. I don't know, maybe all I need is a shot in the arm. And then there's actions that are both monotonous and wondrous, like running. But that's a whole other topic, for a whole other day, a day that my calves aren't filled with the fire of Hades. you have my love.

These Friends of Mine

I heard of this album a while back and knew that I would want to pick it up immediately upon its release. It's my first Rosie Thomas album, and really I've barely known about her other than she sings on several of my favorite artists' albums. The album was made with two of those artists, Sufjan Stevens and Denison Witmer. It is a very laid back recording, and a lot of the songs were written and recorded in a short period of time in one of their homes. It's personal, honesty, funny and touching. As a whole, the album is pretty darn good. What struck me most though is the title track. Rosie wrote it about, and for, four of her good friends and they sing [wonderfully] on the song. These four friends happen to be four of my absolute favorite musicians; the aforementioned Sufjan and Denison, as well as David Bazan and Damien Jurado. And obviously it means much to me, as my friends mean so much to me. I don't often post lyrics, but I kind of have to here [the lyrics that I'm not entirely sure of are starred]. Enjoy. you have my love.


these friends of mine, live their lives, spend their time, hoping to find who they are, how they're made, that maybe they help me find a way*.

these friends of mine, they have wives, they work hard to love 'em right, and when they laugh it makes me high, they'd take a train 10,000 miles before they'd fly

these friends of mine, they feel alone when the shows are over, don't need to go
in Philadelphia, in Christmas time, they question love, wonder why they try

and when the show is over, how I hope that they discover the joy that they bring
and I hope that they remember this bond we have together
and how they love to sing

these friends of mine, live in new york, they were raised in Michigan, they don't own things*, they don't hold hands, they guard their hearts, the best they can

and when the show is over, how I hope that they discover the joy that they bring
and I hope they remember this bond we have together
and how they love to sing, they sure love to sing
maybe I, needed this time to be reminded for myself
maybe I, needed this time to be reminded for myself
how I love to sing

These Friends of Mine, Rosie Thomas