Overheard: Man to woman; 'Don't fuckin'... don't say "fucking," okay? It makes me think less of you.'
I keep seeing these flashing banner ads that says, 'FREE! I.Q. test!' I'm guessing that if you actually click on one, you automatically fail the test. That's how that works.
Rawr!!
And now for some Good News:
Apparently there's a lot more live music going on in my neighborhood than I realized. There's the summer concert series, for one thing, which is nice. They had a swing band at the Lincoln Square plaza and were selling over price beer and pretzels, etc. These public things are great. All the dog people congregated in one place, all the old people in another, and all the couples with young kids took over the area behind the stage. The ground there was so covered in sidewalk chalk over there the soles of my shoes still have traces of pastel greens and pinks on them. It was nice to see so many people from the neighborhood having a good time together, and I think this will be my new Thursday night thing.
Still, even better was the four-man band that was playing a free show in the record store as I walked home. I'm sure this isn't something everyone understands, but when I'm in a small room with a band that's playing with their amps turned up to eleven, it doesn't really matter that you can't understand what the singer's saying or that the bassist might as well not even be there. Something about standing right in front of those speakers and letting my hearing be completely dominated by guitars and a drum kit – it's like a lullaby. I'm talking about one of those lullabies where if you listen to the lyrics, they're actually pretty fucked up (remember Maggie Simpson's horrified reaction to 'Rock-a-bye Baby?'). It's a soothing mindfuck sort of a thing. And there's no way to reproduce it. The closest you can come is putting on your noise-canceling headphones and turning the volume up on your mp3 player as loud as it will go, but, damn it, it's just not the same.
Looking back over this post, starting to realize why my successes are few and far between:
'Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of pronouns. Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I.' John Hay (1838-1905)
I keep seeing these flashing banner ads that says, 'FREE! I.Q. test!' I'm guessing that if you actually click on one, you automatically fail the test. That's how that works.
Rawr!!And now for some Good News:
Apparently there's a lot more live music going on in my neighborhood than I realized. There's the summer concert series, for one thing, which is nice. They had a swing band at the Lincoln Square plaza and were selling over price beer and pretzels, etc. These public things are great. All the dog people congregated in one place, all the old people in another, and all the couples with young kids took over the area behind the stage. The ground there was so covered in sidewalk chalk over there the soles of my shoes still have traces of pastel greens and pinks on them. It was nice to see so many people from the neighborhood having a good time together, and I think this will be my new Thursday night thing.
Still, even better was the four-man band that was playing a free show in the record store as I walked home. I'm sure this isn't something everyone understands, but when I'm in a small room with a band that's playing with their amps turned up to eleven, it doesn't really matter that you can't understand what the singer's saying or that the bassist might as well not even be there. Something about standing right in front of those speakers and letting my hearing be completely dominated by guitars and a drum kit – it's like a lullaby. I'm talking about one of those lullabies where if you listen to the lyrics, they're actually pretty fucked up (remember Maggie Simpson's horrified reaction to 'Rock-a-bye Baby?'). It's a soothing mindfuck sort of a thing. And there's no way to reproduce it. The closest you can come is putting on your noise-canceling headphones and turning the volume up on your mp3 player as loud as it will go, but, damn it, it's just not the same.
Looking back over this post, starting to realize why my successes are few and far between:
'Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of pronouns. Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I.' John Hay (1838-1905)
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