When I was in sixth grade, my best friend Sam played me an album that would become the center of my musical world for the next six years. The album was called Before These Crowded Streets by the Dave Matthews Band. Sam had picked up on DMB from his new girlfriend, Ellen, who also, incidently, became a large part of my world for the next six years.
It wasn’t long before I was begging my dad for his copy of Under the Table and Dreaming and not much longer before I packed all of their albums into a huge, black, rubber-reinforced CD-case that I had made a habit of carrying around with me. There were a few t-shirts, a few concerts, but mostly hours and hours spent listening. Sam and I would hold marathon sessions in one of the side-rooms in the church where our parents rehearsed with their praise and worship group. We’d go on about how misguided the rest of the world was - or how confusing relationships were - how how freakin awesome Dave Matthews Band was.
I remember a girl in my high school accusing me of being a phony - of only liking the band because Sam did which was only because Ellen did. I remember a few of our friends devoting themselves to hating on the band and repeatedly unplugging my stereo because our fanhood was such that it demanded opposition apparently. Those friends came around eventually - a few became bigger fans than I was.
I can’t really relate the amount of influence Dave Matthews Band had on me without boring you, but suffice it to say that I was a little sad to hear of LeRoi Moore’s death. I’m sort of drifted away from DMB’s music, but I’m glad for that time. I’m glad I sucked in what I did and I’m glad they were doing what they were doing. Because damn, they were good at it.
LeRoi Moore
Ack! I’ve been rejected for a role in the new Johnny Depp movie before I was even able to try out. I don’t understand how Hollywood can continue to harbor such a backward and discriminatory industry. It’s a little known issue, but in the entertainment industry there is a glass ceiling - a low-hanging glass ceiling that forces tall people to stand all hunched-over and awkward-like.
Thanks, Johnny Depp, for making me an outcast in my own town. Before you know it,pubs and movie theaters will be hanging those big yellow “low clearence” bars across their doors - preventing people like me from enterin. I don’t like where this is going. Not one bit.
It’s time that those of us on the fringes of height rally together - tall and short alike. And remember the words of one of the pioneers in the size-equity movement: “Size matters not!”
::This is from my trip into Norwich, England for the first time. It got lost in my drafts folder.::
I’m writing this from a train headed for Norwich (don’t pronounce the w). I’ve got a bit under an hour and a half on the train, so I’ve got some time to rest and collect some thoughts while being soothed by the sounds of the train and the three English businessmen to my right who frequently interrupt their friendly conversation to speak very forcefully to someone on their cell phone. I’m amused by this. Also, about 20 minutes into the trip, a kid ran into my car, stopped, and yelled back, “There’s another one coming this way!” Then he ran back through the door and another kid walked out real casual-like. He walked into the space between cars and disappeared around a corner until the conductor caught up with him. At the conductor’s instruction, he walked back up the isle and then back down again - this time followed by about 5 of his friends. Stow-aways. Sweet.
The flight on Air India was very bearable. Turns out, not a lot of people enjoy overnight flights so there was lots of space to stretch out (not to mention the extra airline pillows). I did manage to nod off for a bit in the middle of the flight, but otherwise I was kept company by a guy named Phil who was headed back to London after an extended stay with friends in the US. So we chatted for a while about travel and the differences between our countries and “What is that between the salad and the yogurt?” and “What in the world is going on with this Indian television they’re showing us?”
Side-note: We just passed between a water-treatment plant that looked exactly like one you might find in the US and a field of cows. Ah, home.
kk
sure sure
cool cool
Why do I feel the need to double-up on my affirmative words?
Bye-bye.
I am, at this moment:
- sitting in an old, plaid armchair
- drinking fair-trade coffee
- …at Bar Giuliani (my favorite locally-owned coffee shop)
- typing on my rebuilt and hacked vintage Apple PowerBook
- listening to the New Pornographers
- …on my iPod
- wearing a thrift-store-looking sweatshirt that’s actually from Express
- reading about alternative spiritual/philosophical worldviews
- and blogging
I feel so damned white-hipster…
Stuff White People Like
White Whine
…but I like it.