At It Again!!!!

Well, those cantankerous, easily excitable Jefferson-ish motherfuckers downstairs are at it again!!

Ya know what?!

If I win the fucking lottery, I will make it my personal quest to send each and every one of you to a deluxe apartment in the sky.

Will that work for you?!?! Great!!

In the meantime, shhhhhhh!!!

Sigur Rózzzzzzzzzzz

My, my...how things change.

Back, during my formative years, I used to hate live performances, complaining that the songs sounded "different" or "not as good" as they were on the original albums.

Tonight, er, last night, I went and saw one of my favorite bands, Sigur Rós, play live at the Orpheum. For those of you not familiar to Sigur Rós, they are an Icelandic band that infuses very powerful, electronic and classical sounds in their music. Their music is very chill and--yes, I totally cribbed this word from the boys and girls at Wikipedia--ethereal.

It's that rare band that knows how to make music that grabs your soul and shakes it all about. Just absolutely gorgeous music. I actually keep their music on to help me sleep. It's very relaxing.

So, I dunno. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised when I found myself falling asleep during their live performance. But shocked I was. And a little disappointed. It wasn't that their music was bad. Not at all. It was just as beautiful and crystalline as it's always been. And it was all the more impressive watching it being performed live.

So, why the snoozefest?

Well, see the reasons above. It was more of the same; identical, actually. To the last note. Look, if I'm shelling out bucco bucks, I want a little bang. Not to sound like a complete brat, but if I want to hear the songs exactly as I know them, I can just pop in the CD and listen to it. I want random guitar interludes, improvisation and audience patter.

Speaking of the latter, I went and saw the concert with my brother in arms, Erik, and I completely agree with his take on why the concert was lacking. He whispered, ever so softly in my ear (lol!!!), " ya know, for a band that's all about having a big stage production, they have absolutely no stage presence."

I concur, sir.

Say what you will about U2 (Best Band on Earth) and Coldplay (you know how I know you're gay...?), but they know how to play with the audience. I've seen both of those two bands live and there was a real give and take between band and audience, a dynamic. And there was nothing like that present, this evening. They barely even talked. They just jumped from one song to the next.

How very meh of them.

But that's not to say I didn't enjoy the music itself. It was breathtaking, no denying that. I was actually moved to tears at a few points. There music has and always will be lovely and pure. Hell, the music alone was almost worth the price of admission.

Almost.

The Mascot

I've always sort of seen myself as the team mascot for all of my friends.

When I think of a mascot, I always picture sort of a goofy caricature that no one really takes seriously, but nevertheless remains the glue that keeps people coming back and rooting for their group, staying loyal.

Well, I've always thought of myself as that guy. In fact, up until very recently, I believed my status was relegated to simply being The Hairy Jewish Guy (Go BRUCE!!!!). And while the latter part is true--I am Jewish and nearly as hairy as an Ewok--I realized in the last day that I was, well, I was something more than that.

Last night, when I told my closest friends that there's a possibility I might be moving across the country, next February, I got a reaction that I never really expected to get: Sadness.

I mean, I'm not tooting my own horn. I don't think anyone is really going to be devastated or anything by my departure, but still...Wow! The reaction I got when I told some of them that I might be leaving? Well, I was really quite touched. Until last night, I never really knew that I had such an impact on my friends' lives here. I kind of always thought I was just someone who came in, made people smile and laugh and that was the end of it; and, as a result, I got the white "FRIEND" label slapped on my breast pocket.

I didn't realize I was so...loved. Maybe that says more about me as a person than it does about my friends. I've always kind of had this well, I don't really take myself very seriously, so why should anyone else? mentality. I use sarcasm and self-deprecation as a defense mechanism. It's not much of a secret. The irony of it all is that one of my biggest fears is that people will never take me seriously--as a man and as a person. What can I say? I'm my own worst enemy.

In the last few months--hell, all my life! My dad travels a lot!--I've really learned a valuable lesson about love and distance. And it's this: Just because something or someone you love isn't in front of you all the time, it doesn't mean there's any less love, it doesn't make it any less real. It just makes it all that more powerful. It makes it more concentrated, because you realize just how much the someone or something means to you and what they meant to you when they were there to begin with.

I love my friends--every single one of them. I always have. I just never really knew how much they loved me back.

Even for a neurotic cynic like myself, that's a really, really nice surprise.

Royalwood Blues

Look, I'm not a racist person. I'm not.

I know, I know...people who say things like "I'm not racist, but..." usually are the most prejudice of all. But seriously, I have no bone to pick with African Americans or anyone of any race, creed, nationality or religion. Two of my best friends in the world are black.

However, the black family below me seriously needs to drink a nice, steaming cup of SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP!!!!! Seriously!! No one wants to hear your loud-ass, profanity-laced, n-bomb dropping (there are small children in this building!! HELLOOOO?!?!?!) screaming and drama!!!!

Goddamn it!!!!

Oh, and if you're gonna get into a Jerry Springer-esque fight? Try and keep it limited to one floor only, please!! None of this running upstairs and downstairs bullshit!! This ain't no Agatha Christie novel!!!

It was a peaceful apartment complex, for Chrissakes, yo!!!!

Well, except for the meth heads upstairs. But at least they know how to have a good time without causin' a ruckus!!!

Coming of Age...

"It's complicated."

At least, that's what I have on my Facebook profile.

I've usually never run toward drama like this. Usually, it just kind of follows me around until I either do something drastic or just ignore it to make it go away. But this time, I'm facing it head on.

All my life, I've listened to people tell me what I should and shouldn't do. I've based all my decisions on whether or not people will like me after I do what I do. This situation, as chaotic as it is, is one of the best things to happen in my life, because it truly has made me realize that no matter what people tell you, whether they think something is wrong and immoral or great and romantic, you have to listen to your own heart, your own head and live and die by the decisions you make.

There's someone out there. Someone I've waited my whole life for. I lost her once. And then she found me again. It's a second chance. Not everyone gets one of those. But it's a big fucking mess and, yeah, there are people out there who have told me to do the "right thing" and walk away There are also people who tell me to make my own decisions and be careful.

And ya know? I think I'm finally realizing that, after all this time, I've been forgetting to listen to the one person who counts: Me. At the end of the day, no one can walk in my shoes but me. And it's hard enough to walk in these Nike's on my own without having people push me, to and fro. I guess I just need to do what I'm going to do and let the chips fall where they may. While part of being an adult is being willing to listen to advice from family and friends, there's something to be said for having a mind of your own and making your own decisions.

I've made mine. On my own. I know what I want. I know who I want. And I know what I have to do to get both.

And maybe, in the end, when the dust settles, I'll find that my decision was a mistake. I sincerely hope not, bus as I've said, time and time again, I don't have a crystal ball and I have no idea how this is all going to play out. But at least I'll know that it was my mistake to make and I'll own it. That is something that no one will be able to take away from me.

For the record, however, I don't think it's a mistake. Not by a long shot. I think she's very well worth the rocky emotional terrain I'll encounter on my journey. After all, there is no one on the planet that makes me feel as bright and alive and happy and wonderful as when I'm on the phone with her or talking to her or even just thinking about her.

It is a journey I'm on. And whatever happens, I'll have the blissful, euphoric satisfaction of knowing that I completed it on my own terms.

But I won't lie.

When I arrive at my destination, I hope she's there, waiting for me, at the end. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Nuuuuuuuuuu.