Billy rapped all night about his suicide/
How he'd kick it in the head when he was 25/
Speed drive. Don't wanna stay alive/
When you're 25.
When I was watching Heart of Gold, Neil Young explained how he wrote the song below. Apparently, after success had found him, he bought a ranch in Canada and the old man selling it asked him how he was able to afford it... since he was obviously such a young guy. Neil Young replied that he was just lucky. Then he said that he wrote "Old Man" for that guy.
So... consider some of my heroes: Neil Young and Orson Welles. If Neil Young recorded Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere when he was 24, and Orson Welles made Citizen Kane when he was 25, what the hell am I doing with my time?? Not that I ever expect to be as awesomely creative, artistic and productive as those guys (but it would be nice!).
What have I achieved in my life that I'm happy about? Where's the output? Let me clarify things: I am pretty happy. But what exactly am I doing? I don't want to just compare myself to a couple of creative geniuses, but I think genius is a good yardstick. I wish passion would find me. Or that I could be more adept at seeking it out. Then I feel like purposefulness would follow. Ideally. Maybe it's not as important as I like to believe it is.
In any case, I will fall off the grid for the duration of the long weekend. My neighbors moved out and I've been jacking their wireless internet all this time. And the library will be closed until Tuesday; so no internet for Mo. Rest assured that I will spend my momentous birthday (as well as America's birthday) drinking beer and setting off fireworks. I'll try to take some pictures....
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Old Person Joint Post #1: I'm a Lot Like You
Old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were/
Old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were/
Old man look at my life. 24 and there's so much more/
Live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2.
How did this happen? I know I'm not "old" per se, but I feel like things have changed around me, or changed toward me.
Love lost. Such a cost. Give me things that won't get lost/
Like a coin that won't get tossed/
Rolling home to you.
I feel like I haven't changed much in years. But slowly, people's changing expectations seem to have kind of snuck up on me. Or maybe it's all in my head.
Old man take a look at my life. I'm a lot like you/
I need someone to love me the whole day through/
By one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true.
Lullabies, look in your eyes, run around the same old town/
Doesn't mean that much to me/
To mean that much to you.
I've been first and last/
Look at how the time goes past/
But I'm all alone at last. Rolling home to you.
Not that I should even really care about what other people think so much. If I tried to pretend like I cared about acting like an "adult", I'd probably still continue doing my own thing. I think everyone likes it that way.
Because of this song (which I first heard when I was about 15 and 24 seemed like the oldest I would ever be), I often wonder if some old person I've encountered somewhere sees me and thinks I remind them of themselves a long time ago. How much of myself do I see in other people? This song also makes me think: I should really take up the banjo.
Old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were/
Old man look at my life. 24 and there's so much more/
Live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2.
How did this happen? I know I'm not "old" per se, but I feel like things have changed around me, or changed toward me.
Love lost. Such a cost. Give me things that won't get lost/
Like a coin that won't get tossed/
Rolling home to you.
I feel like I haven't changed much in years. But slowly, people's changing expectations seem to have kind of snuck up on me. Or maybe it's all in my head.
Old man take a look at my life. I'm a lot like you/
I need someone to love me the whole day through/
By one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true.
Lullabies, look in your eyes, run around the same old town/
Doesn't mean that much to me/
To mean that much to you.
I've been first and last/
Look at how the time goes past/
But I'm all alone at last. Rolling home to you.
Not that I should even really care about what other people think so much. If I tried to pretend like I cared about acting like an "adult", I'd probably still continue doing my own thing. I think everyone likes it that way.
Because of this song (which I first heard when I was about 15 and 24 seemed like the oldest I would ever be), I often wonder if some old person I've encountered somewhere sees me and thinks I remind them of themselves a long time ago. How much of myself do I see in other people? This song also makes me think: I should really take up the banjo.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Quarter century mark
Being, as I am, mere hours away from turning 25, I propose a radical project for myself. Well, it's not so radical. Projects are fun. It'll be fun to have some unified goal to a few hours a week of my efforts. I feel it'll be satisfying to work on something, and motivating to have a consistent project. So please consider this idea I came up with a while ago: a Beat year.
Kitschy? Sure, but potentially fun and illuminating. I thought of this a few months ago when I was seriously attempting to move to San Francisco or New York. But, to avoid the expense and the headaches and anxiety, I am staying put for another year. Still, I can create for myself basically a classroom; homework assignments included.
The Beat Generation holds a lot of appeal for people my age. Why? I find the literature, philosophy and films of 1950's-or-so Americana interesting and alluring but ultimately don't really know that much about it. What better way to gain some perspective than to read and watch the books and movies that left an indelible legacy on American pop culture? Basically, it's a birthday present to myself: a unifying theme to the upcoming year. I also plan on buying myself some t-shirts and DVDs.
It's also good timing as I'll be on the road myself for most of the next two months. What exactly do I plan on doing? Well, I don't plan on exclusively devoting my pop culture consumption to the Beats. What seems appropriate? Maybe one book every month and at least two movies? At least two blog posts a month on the topic? Seems pretty low-impact and doable; especially considering how little else I have going on in my life in general these days. Seems like a good way to get back in the swing of doing cultural historical research and analysis so I can see if that's what I want to do for the rest of my life (PhD school?).
I welcome friendly input on my stupid little idea. But I kind of like the concept of having a "theme year". Some sense of unified effort. This way, even on days when work and my social life may seem to be falling down around me, I can still feel like I can achieve something.
More on this as my 25th year unfolds....
Kitschy? Sure, but potentially fun and illuminating. I thought of this a few months ago when I was seriously attempting to move to San Francisco or New York. But, to avoid the expense and the headaches and anxiety, I am staying put for another year. Still, I can create for myself basically a classroom; homework assignments included.
The Beat Generation holds a lot of appeal for people my age. Why? I find the literature, philosophy and films of 1950's-or-so Americana interesting and alluring but ultimately don't really know that much about it. What better way to gain some perspective than to read and watch the books and movies that left an indelible legacy on American pop culture? Basically, it's a birthday present to myself: a unifying theme to the upcoming year. I also plan on buying myself some t-shirts and DVDs.
It's also good timing as I'll be on the road myself for most of the next two months. What exactly do I plan on doing? Well, I don't plan on exclusively devoting my pop culture consumption to the Beats. What seems appropriate? Maybe one book every month and at least two movies? At least two blog posts a month on the topic? Seems pretty low-impact and doable; especially considering how little else I have going on in my life in general these days. Seems like a good way to get back in the swing of doing cultural historical research and analysis so I can see if that's what I want to do for the rest of my life (PhD school?).
I welcome friendly input on my stupid little idea. But I kind of like the concept of having a "theme year". Some sense of unified effort. This way, even on days when work and my social life may seem to be falling down around me, I can still feel like I can achieve something.
More on this as my 25th year unfolds....
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Standby
I was stuck in the Portland airport for 16 hours last weekend.
PDX is ranked one of the "best" airports in the country by... whoever ranks airports.... But I did not have a very good time there.
Thunderstorms had grounded flights in Chicago which led to cancellations. I was trying to fly standby on the red-eye to O'Hare Friday night, but the gates were full of angry people who had been there all day. So I got bumped. And bumped again. And bumped again.
Also, because I got the standby tickets for super-cheap through a friend whose mom used to work for the airline, I had to dress up. Meaning no jeans or flip-flops or "athletic" gear (since you're kind of, you know, indirectly representing the airline). Being short on outfits not comprised of jeans, flip-flops and cotton t-shirts and hoodies, this meant wearing a miniskirt with leggings and some Old Navy moccasins. It is NOT comfortable to wear the same pair of leggings for 24 hours! Trust me. And all I had to keep me company was The Last of the Mohicans:
So far, I am not enjoying reading The Last of the Mohicans. And, henceforth on, I'll probably always associate it with 16 hours of airport grumpiness. But, although only about 50 pages of bleak 19th century blandness got plowed through, I eventually made it to Chicago... just in time for Jenna's 'bachelorette party'. I got off the plane at O'Hare, changed into pants, immediately got on the Blue Line and went directly to the bar where they were doing shots. That's just the way it worked out. Oh, standby.
PDX is ranked one of the "best" airports in the country by... whoever ranks airports.... But I did not have a very good time there.Thunderstorms had grounded flights in Chicago which led to cancellations. I was trying to fly standby on the red-eye to O'Hare Friday night, but the gates were full of angry people who had been there all day. So I got bumped. And bumped again. And bumped again.
Also, because I got the standby tickets for super-cheap through a friend whose mom used to work for the airline, I had to dress up. Meaning no jeans or flip-flops or "athletic" gear (since you're kind of, you know, indirectly representing the airline). Being short on outfits not comprised of jeans, flip-flops and cotton t-shirts and hoodies, this meant wearing a miniskirt with leggings and some Old Navy moccasins. It is NOT comfortable to wear the same pair of leggings for 24 hours! Trust me. And all I had to keep me company was The Last of the Mohicans:
So far, I am not enjoying reading The Last of the Mohicans. And, henceforth on, I'll probably always associate it with 16 hours of airport grumpiness. But, although only about 50 pages of bleak 19th century blandness got plowed through, I eventually made it to Chicago... just in time for Jenna's 'bachelorette party'. I got off the plane at O'Hare, changed into pants, immediately got on the Blue Line and went directly to the bar where they were doing shots. That's just the way it worked out. Oh, standby.
The libraries
While I was eating lunch at my kitchen table today, I glanced at the titles in my roommate's stack of selected literature. Then I took the liberty of taking a photo of it:
My favorites are the ones on the bottom: Wicca In the Kitchen and Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.
For comparison, I also took a photo of the stack of books I happen to have sitting on my bedroom floor (bookshelf space being in short supply (time to raid the back allies for more milk crates)):
Please note the lack of shirtless witches on my book covers.
Reading from top to bottom: Raise High the Roof Beam Carpenters by JD Salinger, Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, O Pioneers! by Willa Cather, 41 Stories by O Henry, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, Number 9 Dream by David Mitchell, and Amphigorey by Edward Gorey.
I am not currently trying to read all of these books at once. I'm not crazy. FYI-- I do non-fiction over lunch and fiction before bed.
My favorites are the ones on the bottom: Wicca In the Kitchen and Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.For comparison, I also took a photo of the stack of books I happen to have sitting on my bedroom floor (bookshelf space being in short supply (time to raid the back allies for more milk crates)):
Please note the lack of shirtless witches on my book covers.Reading from top to bottom: Raise High the Roof Beam Carpenters by JD Salinger, Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, O Pioneers! by Willa Cather, 41 Stories by O Henry, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, Number 9 Dream by David Mitchell, and Amphigorey by Edward Gorey.
I am not currently trying to read all of these books at once. I'm not crazy. FYI-- I do non-fiction over lunch and fiction before bed.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Plans for my birthday (after a few beers)
"Whatever! Let's just burn shit and set shit off and get drunk as fuck and fuck up all that shit we burned!"
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Andrew gets schooled by incomprehensible Japanese video games
This game was called "The Typing of the Dead" and (as far as we could tell) you were supposed to type in certain codes to keep zombies from attacking you. The zombies came up and punched you. They didn't bite you. This game only lasted about a minute.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
