The Found, The Label, The Crying Cat, The Gnarls Barkley.
Well, here I am, all moved in to my new apartment. New bed, new couch (as of today). I don't think I've owned new of either of those things and I'll tell you, it's pretty sweet. In both instances my mother and I just happened upon a Sealy factory outlet and a place called City Liquidators, both offering new furniture for low low prices. My couch hindered me from attending the Farmer's Market with my friends Eric, Manda and Rebecca, but all in all, it's worth it.
So my days are filled with a lot of staying in my apartment. Slowly I've been unpacking piece by piece and I'm nearly done. I crammed my bed into my walk in closet allowing more room in the main area, which is awesome. It's like a little cave in there. I manage to steal internet from someone and I spend most of my day checking e-mails, the message board and listening to music. My books are unpacked, my kitchen set up, ladies and gentlemen, I now live in Portland.
My building is weird. I rarely see people and when I do I get little attention from them. I've shared a few hello's and hey's, but nothing past that. This isn't the Seinfeldian experience I hoped and imagined. You know, meeting people in your building, talking about records and then I get invited out for beers, a real get-to-know-you session. You're from Missouri you say? Wow! Not so. Maybe that will change. I could, you know, put myself out there more. When I see tenants, I generally, nervously, walk the other way fast as to not seem like I really want to meet people, even though I do. It's official folks: loneliness has set in. I miss my friends and the comforts therein. I miss reciting The Best Show on WFMU lines on my porch and calling my friends whatever dumbshit insult I had made up earlier in the day. I feel like I've gone a while without having a real rapport with someone. It's weird, probably healthy, but I'm definitely going through distraction withdraw. I consider myself a fairly self-sufficient person. I can eat at a restaurant, see a movie, go downtown, do whatever on my own and have no problem with it, but that's generally followed up with hanging out with a friend. This is definitely different.
For almost the entire time I've lived here, there has been a cat, somewhere, crying constantly. In boredom I imagined a cat stuck somewhere, needing my help. This cat would become mine possibly! This cat needs me. I frantically searched and found nothing. I can still hear the cat, but I'm pretty sure it's stuck in an apartment somewhere, with a lazy owner. That selfish prick. Be mine little cat. And be orange while we're at it. I miss my cats... I miss cats period. I'm a total cat fag.
For about as long as the cat has been around, I'm greeted daily with a stereo. Much like the elusive cat, I have no clue where this stereo is. But goddamn does it love "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley, and it loves it loud. Like any owner of the Tag Team record that only wants to hear "Whomp There it Is" or much like that Above the Rim soundtrack's only fruitful track "Regulators" the owner of said stereo attempts to dig other tracks on the record, but always, without fail heads straight back to "Crazy".
Well, in other news, I appear to be a label owner. Some friends of mine from Baltimore play in a band, an excellent band, called Dead Mechanical. I managed to get their demo and it's a smoker. I put it out there that, if I had the money, I would release their record. Suddenly I'm in a partnership with 2 other people to get this record out. Like the zine I intend to start, I wanted to maintain my own side of the label and call it Sex Cells. If that's going to happen is still up in the air. I'm not financing much of this, the other guys are the real investors, I will be spending free moments pushing the record, handling media and working with the artwork.
I did manage to get out a little bit this week. Tuesday I rode the bus down to Holoscene and saw the Found Magazine release and reading. It was spectacular. I would probably consider Davy Rothbart a hero, I love his magazine and books, but I love his contributions to This American Life even more. So I was pretty excited to get down there. I missed probably 15 minutes of it, but caught some of Davy, then his brother Peter played some songs and then some more Davy. It was a lot of fun. Although, I missed my bus home and had to walk, half-drunk and guessing, probably 2 or 3 miles (this is a guess) home, but I made it!
I also spent part of yesterday downtown. I rode the bus in, went to Reading Frenzy (awesome little independent publications store), walked to my school and then decided to see how long of a walk it was from school to my place. About 15 minutes, not bad! Then later on I met up with Eric Peabody, his wife Manda and thier friend Rebecca (who runs mtxstarship.com) at a movie theater way East of here (I was sweating the ride up there, a max train and a bus, both filled with old people who couldn't wait to talk to me) and we saw Superman Returns. Ehh, it was okay. Fun to see the Big S back in action, the story was pretty slow moving though.
This is a pretty windy post. Sonic Youth tonight! I'm pretty stoked. I imagine I'll miss my bus again tonight, walk home only to get my throat slit and body dumped in the river. Oh big cities!
m
So my days are filled with a lot of staying in my apartment. Slowly I've been unpacking piece by piece and I'm nearly done. I crammed my bed into my walk in closet allowing more room in the main area, which is awesome. It's like a little cave in there. I manage to steal internet from someone and I spend most of my day checking e-mails, the message board and listening to music. My books are unpacked, my kitchen set up, ladies and gentlemen, I now live in Portland.
My building is weird. I rarely see people and when I do I get little attention from them. I've shared a few hello's and hey's, but nothing past that. This isn't the Seinfeldian experience I hoped and imagined. You know, meeting people in your building, talking about records and then I get invited out for beers, a real get-to-know-you session. You're from Missouri you say? Wow! Not so. Maybe that will change. I could, you know, put myself out there more. When I see tenants, I generally, nervously, walk the other way fast as to not seem like I really want to meet people, even though I do. It's official folks: loneliness has set in. I miss my friends and the comforts therein. I miss reciting The Best Show on WFMU lines on my porch and calling my friends whatever dumbshit insult I had made up earlier in the day. I feel like I've gone a while without having a real rapport with someone. It's weird, probably healthy, but I'm definitely going through distraction withdraw. I consider myself a fairly self-sufficient person. I can eat at a restaurant, see a movie, go downtown, do whatever on my own and have no problem with it, but that's generally followed up with hanging out with a friend. This is definitely different.
For almost the entire time I've lived here, there has been a cat, somewhere, crying constantly. In boredom I imagined a cat stuck somewhere, needing my help. This cat would become mine possibly! This cat needs me. I frantically searched and found nothing. I can still hear the cat, but I'm pretty sure it's stuck in an apartment somewhere, with a lazy owner. That selfish prick. Be mine little cat. And be orange while we're at it. I miss my cats... I miss cats period. I'm a total cat fag.
For about as long as the cat has been around, I'm greeted daily with a stereo. Much like the elusive cat, I have no clue where this stereo is. But goddamn does it love "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley, and it loves it loud. Like any owner of the Tag Team record that only wants to hear "Whomp There it Is" or much like that Above the Rim soundtrack's only fruitful track "Regulators" the owner of said stereo attempts to dig other tracks on the record, but always, without fail heads straight back to "Crazy".
Well, in other news, I appear to be a label owner. Some friends of mine from Baltimore play in a band, an excellent band, called Dead Mechanical. I managed to get their demo and it's a smoker. I put it out there that, if I had the money, I would release their record. Suddenly I'm in a partnership with 2 other people to get this record out. Like the zine I intend to start, I wanted to maintain my own side of the label and call it Sex Cells. If that's going to happen is still up in the air. I'm not financing much of this, the other guys are the real investors, I will be spending free moments pushing the record, handling media and working with the artwork.
I did manage to get out a little bit this week. Tuesday I rode the bus down to Holoscene and saw the Found Magazine release and reading. It was spectacular. I would probably consider Davy Rothbart a hero, I love his magazine and books, but I love his contributions to This American Life even more. So I was pretty excited to get down there. I missed probably 15 minutes of it, but caught some of Davy, then his brother Peter played some songs and then some more Davy. It was a lot of fun. Although, I missed my bus home and had to walk, half-drunk and guessing, probably 2 or 3 miles (this is a guess) home, but I made it!
I also spent part of yesterday downtown. I rode the bus in, went to Reading Frenzy (awesome little independent publications store), walked to my school and then decided to see how long of a walk it was from school to my place. About 15 minutes, not bad! Then later on I met up with Eric Peabody, his wife Manda and thier friend Rebecca (who runs mtxstarship.com) at a movie theater way East of here (I was sweating the ride up there, a max train and a bus, both filled with old people who couldn't wait to talk to me) and we saw Superman Returns. Ehh, it was okay. Fun to see the Big S back in action, the story was pretty slow moving though.
This is a pretty windy post. Sonic Youth tonight! I'm pretty stoked. I imagine I'll miss my bus again tonight, walk home only to get my throat slit and body dumped in the river. Oh big cities!
m
posted by mwelch at 5:07 PM
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