Jaded Lens

Friday, July 29, 2005

Right Turns Down Wrong Streets

After being surrounded by sympathetic friends and family for the better part of the past week, last night I decided that since I've got the apartment to myself for the next couple of days, I would just stay in and decompress. Of course, there was nothing to write since my home internet hook-up has apparently been on vacation for two weeks. The "night in to relax" always sounds good on paper but rarely works out in reality. By 9PM, I was laid out on the couch, bored out of my mind, reading Radar magazine (still don't know what to think of it) and listening to old, mid-90s Sonic Youth at louder volumes than the moment prescribed. The ants were crawling all over my forlorn dinner plate and ocassionally venturing up my arm, making nap-time impossible. Since my roommate is more allergic to cleaning than a dog is to chocolate, my apartment was invaded by thousands of tiny, black snowmen with legs while I was gone. I'd cleaned the entire apartment earlier after work so now the leftover ants were desperate for anything, especially the apple core abandoned on the plate.

Television on Wednesday night sucks. Feeling bored and a little bit sad, I moved to the floor where I lay staring at my upside-down book shelf. Usually I'll just lie there and stare up at the books, trying to remember which have been completely read ("On the Road" goes without saying), partially read and how much I actually did read or why I stopped ("Paper Tiger" 63 pages b/c I just wasn't in the mood at the time), or never even touched except to move from apartment to apartment ("In Exile from the Land of Snows" it was a gift which means there's a 90% chance I won't read it but I hear it's good.) Curiously, my gaze fell upon an oversized blue, shiny spine and I had to think for a minute to place it in my library. First my leg twitched, then my shoulder swung wide and I was semi-up, slugging across the floor towards the book shelf, wheedling through the stack of forgotten Miles Davis photo-journals to pull out the mysterious book. It was my George Washington High School Senior Yearbook. Wow. I'd forgotten I'd carted it around from dorm room to one apartment after another since leaving Danville in 1996.

Reading through the signatures hastily signed in hallways and courtyards, I notice the same buzzwords repeatedly, "such a sweet guy," "keep in touch," "don't give up your music." However, "it's been great getting to know so much this year" sticks out the most. Thinking back, I guess that schoolyear and the summer before represented some sort of awakening both socially and personality-wise. No longer the shy kid, I remember boldly entering parties of the popular-elite, weed-toking hippies, or pimply band geeks, all with the same gusto and verve that lately has been relegated to only my brightest of days. I miss that ability to chat up anybody and form some sort of connection with them, however tenuous but regardless of wildly differing background, interests or cultural differences. Age and experience have their drawbacks as well.

Missing among the signatures are many of my fellow alumni that I now regard among my best friends from back home. I realized that I really didn't know them that well then. Only after the next party-filled summer and subsequent visits home from school had we grown to know each other. It's nice to think of those friendships as they formed, how much stronger they became once the shackle of high school class warfare was released. Sheer circumstance leads to friendship ninety-nine percent of the time. Sure, most say proximity as well but rarely is a good friendship planned. That's one of my favorite facts of life. (Sorry Natalie, seat taken.)

However, I also noticed that many times, I had trouble placing faces to the names. People who thought I was "smart" and "fun" were forgotten, at least until I looked up their picture. How many friendships do we heave over the side in order to pave way for new ones? Coming across a huge glossy of my high school friend Lyndsay Gillespie, I had to think when I last saw her. Seven years ago? Then, Lyndsay and I were really good friends. She played trumpet with me in the band and, especially during my senior year, became my partner in crime. Signed next to her photograph, she wrote, "Max, You are my favorite 'man in band.' I'll miss you so much next year. You simply must return to visit in order for me to smile. I hate you for going to UVa." among other things, scrawled across almost a full page and continuing onto the next. Seeing this made my nose crinkle to expose a silly grin. During my junior year at UVa, she confessed that, even though she was now all but engaged, she'd had a crush on me in high school. Looking at this now, how did I not realize that? It's not surprising that I didn't as I'm still pretty dumb in matters of love.

Even still, seeing this picture of Lyndsay made me remember our afternoon of big-time mischief, skipping class in order to sneak into extra-curricular activity yearbook photos for groups to which we never belonged. Hunting through each group photo, I found a few of them. There we are, members of the Math Club who never attended a single Math-stravaganza. Again, appearing in the backrow of the Future Farmers of America, Lyndsay actually holding my arm to keep me from running, thinking we'd been busted. Lyndsay, solo in the Drama Guild, shooting a gun at the camera with a cheeky wink at me, off-camera because I refused to look like "that much of a dork." (I remember actually saying that. I mean, I was in the marching band and I still said that...)

Finally, the coup de grace, Lyndsay and I both, in the very center of the picture, flaunting our crime for all to see with our Future Business Leaders of America pals, big, silly fake grins on our faces, flashing a thumbs up to the camera, cat-a-corner style. Needless to say, at this point my current self burst into a huge laughing fit, despite my empty apartment. I seem to remember that we were in a bunch more but the yearbook staff got tired of our antics and clipped us out of the rest. I also remember Lyndsey telling me that she tried again the next year but she was being watched as we'd inspired a whole slew of copycats, forcing the school to take roll before group shots. Some say pride is a sin.

I don't know how to end this entry. It's strange, the things I remember when looking back, the events that took place, forgotten lessons, and circumstances that I only now realize have shaped me into the man I am today. That's a pretty grand statement, a cliche wrapped in sentiment. However, for the most part, my only regrets are the people that have faded over the years. I've been spending a lot of time in my hometown as of late, both voluntary and not, walking the streets of downtown Main Street and photographing personal landmarks of my childhood. Danville has captured my heart again, making me no longer ashamed to call it my hometown, secreting it away from my everyday life as a sort of refuge. I guess last night my yearbook did much the same as I got the best night's sleep I've had since last Thursday.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Thanks everybody!

I'd just like to say thanks to everybody for their calls, prayers and even flowers (wow, guys) over the past few days. For those who don't know, my grandfather passed away last Saturday. Your kind thoughts and regards really helped my family and me through a tough time. I'm happy to say that everything went off as swimmingly as possible, with an outpouring of support and kindness from friends, meeting relatives I hadn't seen since I was 5, and even a kind butterfly who stopped by to offer her condolances to my mom during the graveside service (which was truly bizarre and I might write about later.) Thanks again.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Friday Night Disco Lights

If anybody's looking for something to do tonight, I'll be here:

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In other news, I just got out of a 2 hour meeting. Check out my notes:

Might as well be a bullseye! Woohoo Count = llll\ll

I chew pencil leads to get stoned
Through the wood, bites to the bone
It makes my teeth tingle
Let's mingle!

Why are we here, my dear
These pretty colors are not clear
I cannot hear
Let's be brief.

Why am I here? x3

This has nothing to do with anything I actually do. Why can't that woman's water break so we can all get out of here?

/end notes.

Everybody have a great weekend!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Peace Corps

Peace Corps

I just decided that if I don't get into grad school next year, I'm joining the Peace Corps. I like to go live somewhere in Southeast Asia for a couple of years and help people. People are not meant to spend 1/3 of their day trapped in a cubicle. Sure, it's extreme, but when I'm knee deep in rice paddies, building an aqueduct with nothing but a shovel and a hat, maybe I'll be happy again.*

*I wrote that yesterday. Damn, cubicle boredom really had me down. That's a bit much even for me!

Lunch-time Blogging

I'm bored at work so I thought I'd do a little blogging:

"I'm keeping the painting. It was a gift."

Wedding Crashers is everything I expected. Sure, the middle gets a little drawn out, but damn, it's funny. They used double-punchlines viciously, starting the giggling with the first and then knocking me out with the second. I missed two really good comebacks b/c I was already laughing. Brilliant! My roommate had two things to say afterwards:
1. "The funny part is that I've now taken Vince Vaughn's drinking and smoking, somewhat sleazy movie characters as role models." So true.
2. "How many people do you think will be arrested for crashing weddings this summer?" A lot.

My Vince Vaughn/Will Ferrell/Ben Stiller/Wilson Brothers comedy troupe of movies Top 5 must be updated (they all must contain at least 2 of the above):

1. Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story ("Later...dater.")
2. Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (This is really a tie with Dodgeball.)
3. Wedding Crashers
4. Old School (I think I've just seen it too many times.)
5. The Royal Tenenbaums (Maybe not as funny as Zoolander, but I love this movie. It's one of my Top 10 Favorites Since 2000.)

I'm hesitant to include Wedding Crashers so early, but it was that good. We'll see how if I still feel the same way after I've watched it 20 times, like the rest of them.

Other thoughts:
I no longer have internet access at home. The person with the wireless connection must've moved away or gotten wise to us, but the weird thing is that I was pretty certain it was the Glover Park community wireless. I need to do some research.

I've had a really good week right up until today. I'm just really bored and no one's online yet to chat. Btw, if somebody out there ever feels the same way, my AOL IM is tacopronto68 and I'm here 9-5. Plus, they've stopped selling both my brands of deodorant and ear plugs at the grocery store next to the office. The ear plugs really bother me because they were perfect. They were minus-22 decibel count (perfect for live shows, no muffling just reduction) and really comfortable. I've never seen those kind anywhere else so I've got no choice but the minus-30 white foam that are really uncomfortable and I usually throw out halfway through a show. This is not good.

Some woman in lunchroom today started hassling me about my packed lunch. Granted, stapling the tops of plastic bags together, each respectively containing an apple, a PB&J sandwich and patato chips, might be a bit low-class, but are lunchboxes or other lunch organizers required post-elementary school? It'd be like having a Trapper Keeper instead of a briefcase or maybe the other way around, but who really cares? Leave my lunchtime accessories, or lack thereof, alone.

I need some new jokes. Almost all of my friends have already heard the Big Five. These include the infamous pirate joke, Michael Jackson/Neil Armstrong, rednecks and the bag of chickens, rednecks playing 20 questions, and the cop with the radar gun. However, I have added "tally ho" and "garden hoe" to the repertoire.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

I'm Just a Boy With a New Haircut

And that's a pretty nice haircut.

I like to call this one "Charlie Bucket Does Acid."

Charlie Bucket Does Acid

Now, if only somebody would "hit me like a puzzle."

Monday, July 18, 2005

Weekend in Danville

I went home this weekend after what has amounted to the longest break from visiting Danville I've ever taken, around 5-6 months (I'm not entirely sure of the date of my last visit.) It was actually fun, for the most part. Sure, there was the usual Danville sketchy factor, but that always seems to happen. I returned home with a few of those good Danville Stories my friends love to hear, along with a little bit of my old accent. They always hear my accent and get tempted to join me for a trip home sometime. Next visit, I know for a fact I'm bringing a couple of the gang back with me, just so they can get the full experience, hopefully sometime in October after the humidity's fallen.

First, I got tricked by a conspiracy between my mom and my barber and now almost all of my hair is gone. Still, I kinda like going short every now again, at least during the summer, but my hair had fans, you know? Oh well, Rolfe Diamond WILL live to fight another day. I came to work this morning and my assistants were calling me "Ringo" so I guess it's not all that bad. I can deal with being a 1965 Beatle, if necessary. It's a big shock to everybody so far. My friend gave me a big hug this morning and said she knows I'm sad about it but she's happy she can see my eyes again.

Friday night was weird. I don't like being sober at night in Danville, especially at parties b/c I always feel a little too old, even more so when I realize that I'm talking to gorgeous 18 year-old girls who I taught how to swim when they were 7. However, the rousing reception I received from my friends really made me happy. I enjoy being cheered from time to time. I love seeing those guys and just hanging out, getting all caught up and enjoying ourselves. Dad and I went fishing early Saturday morning and caught about 100 fish, but they were all pretty small. Reidsville Lake is really beautiful and I'm mad that I forgot to take the camera in the boat. I visited my grandpa at the nursing home that afternoon. He really surprised me with his quick wit as I hadn't seen him that coherent and excited to see me since he first got sick a couple of years ago, cracking jokes and asking how many girls I was seeing this time. I was tempted to bust him out and go for a drive in the country like we used to, but it just wasn't in the cards. Apparently, Mom hipped the nurses to my old ways and they kept a strict eye on us. The instant I nonchalantly walked over to the wheel chair, our visit became somewhat supervised by nurses who were "just straightening things up." Oh well. Saturday night was fun. I met some new friends, saw my buddy Sparky's blues band, Maxwell Streets, and even danced a little. I know, I couldn't believe it either but I'm not going to turn down a girl twice when she just needs to dance. Sorry for the toes! That night ended in a bit of the usual Danville sketchiness, but all I'll say is that helping out people in need is both a gift and a curse sometimes. Luckily, someone's forlorn puppy apparently wandered by and helped out a bit.

Sunday morning started super-early (again) with my dad and I working on the car. I was a bit bleary-eyed and more than a bit hungover, but Martha the Jeep needed a tune up. Once we put in the new spark plugs and fixed the belt so it didn't scream all the time, we realized that it was well past time for a new muffler. Martha now sounds like a chorus of my friends from last summer, who visit every 17 years. Therefore, Martha, I christen thee "The Flying Cicada." However, whatever we did really improved gas mileage, so I can stand the rattle if my neighbors can as well. I also went to church. Here's where I write the part about Christianity and I not getting along and how I've been ejected from the Methodist church one too many times to forgive, organized religion bad, etc., etc., but you get the point. My childhood piano teacher, Bob Capen officially retired after the service and afterwards we had a reception. Bob has impacted my life in so many different ways. Everytime I sit down to teach a new student, I'm reminded of the lessons he taught me that I'm now passing on. I was a terror as a student, committing sins that my own students have paid me back tenfold. But, now as a teacher, I completely see the necessity of even my most hated of his lessons and can now appreciate him even more. Since moving away, I always try to stop by and have lunch with him when I'm in town and we've had some of my favorite conversations about life and the art of making music while slowly munching on peanut butter-filled celery stalks. I know that, while we'll continue to be friends and I'll always visit his garden in Greensboro on my way to Moore's Music, I'll miss him playing some crazy toccata or rare requiem on the organ the next time I'm trapped in a pew. As he finished his last official recessional piece, by Felix Mendelsohn (on of my favorite composers b/c he's also Bob's favorite), my mom cried. I'll admit, it was a little emotional for me too. The drive home was nice and lazy, including a brief stopover in a Charlottesville to say hi to a couple people and a lucky break from a state trooper (I didn't even have to namedrop!).

I'm working on a more serious article to post here rather than the usual prattle about how I spend my time. Of course, I got absolutely no work done on that this weekend but look out for it sometime this week.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Random stuff



Apparently Mordecai from Royal Tenenbaums is just as excited about returning to space as I am. He just had to get a closer look, I guess.

Other random thoughts from today:

Does anyone else think that I could make a killing selling "Jesus Sandals" to born-agains?
Just imagine the possibilities. "You'll be literally walking on water in our patented, aqua-filled soles."
Blasphemous, I know.

My favorite line from this article is "People will believe anything the media writes about, but, yeah, it's true." (paraphrased)

Bizarre Sex Habits of the Extreme Right-Wing
Maybe they should check out my post on fainting goats? (see the archives...) Can't you see that? Some slackjaw and his son walking through a Georgia fainting goat pasture. "AHHHHHH! Alright, Bubba, she's down. Give 'er all ya got, boy!"

Several days later... "Mr. Sanders, I caught your son Bubba out in my goat fields the other day. I just got Billy Jean back from the vet, and well, there's some good news and some bad news, Grandpa..." But there is NO way that goat's having an abortion, let me tell ya. I need to get away from this line of thinking before it turns into a sitcom...


Remember, The Guins tonight at Velvet Lounge, 9:30PM. Be there or be damned.
(Yes, I'm bored at work today.)

Monday, July 11, 2005

Notes from the weekend...

Just a few thoughts from this weekend...

Is Karl Rove on his way out? Do you think he knows the level of his own evil or is he just willing to break a few laws to further his own agenda? In an normal, reality-based administration, he'd be history but these guy have shown that they're willing to do anything to win, including commit felonies, so I really don't know.

I wrote a bad joke:

Q: What do you call a loose woman who works out at a gym?
A: A Bally Ho.

Middle Distance Runner is a good band.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Weekend of Rock, Part II

Earlier I didn't get to finish writing the second half of my amazing weekend of rock. I'll be sorta brief.

After waiting around for gang members to get back from Delaware, Sunday night started off at my friend Nan's cookout. In a stroke of genius, she'd decided to throw a big bash at her house prior to that night's show at Iota, partly to gather the troops in one place before heading over to the show at Iota that night (which she was promoting) but mostly just for fun. I met a whole slew of wonderful people but most noticeably the guys from Middle Distance Runner, playing this Saturday at DC9, and Thao Nyugen, whose music is amazing and will be playing with my childhood buddy, Neil Allen aka The Virginia Reel, at Galaxy Hut on July 25th. However, as most of my friends know, I can't pass up the opportunity to play with a dog, so the biggest highlight was throwing tennis balls and otherwise horsing around with Nan's black lab, Caroline. She's a great dog!

After a brief interlude at the Indian food deli, we arrived at Iota. I really like this club. It sounds great, the layout is strangely intimate with really great artwork, a small load-bearing wall in the middle, giving people a lot of corners in which to hide plus there's a sidebar and a patio in case your ears need a break as it's pretty loud. They also play intermission music that I really like. During the band changes Sunday night, we got The Thrills, Belle and Sebastien and even a little Smog (I think.)

The lineup for the night, in order of appearance, was Brice Woodall (his name makes me think of car dealership, Brice-Woodall Chevolet), The Revival, The Cassettes, and Cartel. Brice was really good. I'd met him earlier at the party. He plays solo acoustic onstage which he livens up a bit with a sampler that plays drum beats and a backing track. While his choice of hats was rather unfortunate (that short brimmed army cap that everyone seems to be wearing on the indie scene), his music was well-crafted and he even incorporated hand claps, but I'd be really interested to hear him with a live backing band. He's gearing up for a move to Chicago, which must be turning into the new Brooklyn. I can't say I blame him though as he'll fit in perfectly there.

The Revival was up next. Apparently the lead singer's back-up had run off on tour with another singer-songwriter and forgot to tell him until after he confirmed for this show. He was really good, with exceptional stage banter. My favorite quote was "I'm going to finish this one off with a ballad." They were all ballads. I guess it was more the delivery. Even still, the big British guitar sound he got from a Orange amp head filled up the background nicely and his lyrics, while strained, sounded really genuinely and were well-written. I enjoyed his set and hope to hear him with his full band soon.

At this point in the show, I've got to paint a bit of a picture. The stage is fairly big for a small club stage. However, from the very beginning, there was very little room to maneuver b/c it was literally littered with small instruments and various pieces of odd equipment. From stage left to right, there was an accordion, a Moog, a violin, something flat on legs that I wasn't quite sure about, then the big Orange cab, a drum with a bicycle horn and the smallest kick drum I've ever seen, a steel electric guitar, and a standup bass. Turned out, this was The Cassettes stage setup. When they hit the stage, what followed was 45 minutes of some of the weirdest yet entertaining music I've seen since I first saw The Make Up live. The Cassettes' whole gimmick surrounds them as a group of former Russian Slavic sailors, or something in that vein. They all wear somewhat strange, old-timey costumes onstage, replete with handlebar mustaches and play the whole bit out to the nines. The music reminds me a lot of The Decembrists in that it plays on that strange line between new and experimental while narrative and antiquated at the same time. The mystery object towards the rear of the stage turned out to be a homemade theramin, played by the abled Arthur, who once played homemade instruments at planetariums and later regaled us with one of his own bawdy tunes. Their quirky energy filled the air and held the crowd in its thrall the entire set. For the second time in 2 nights, I was genuinely sad when a band announced their last song. Amazing.



The last band was another well-hyped DC band, Cartel. I really don't have much to say about them. Their set paled in comparison to The Cassettes and I truly felt bad for them having to follow that act. Again, like The Bonapartes, they just seem to be following the Interpol music standard with very little interesting deviation. Beyond their outstanding first song, "Fleets," I just lost interest since the songs ran together so easily (re: sounded the same.) The one thing about them I really didn't understand is that for a few songs, the lead singer allowed the guitarist/keyboardist to sing the lead parts. The only problem with this is that the second guy's voice sounds like a worse version of lead's voice. Why even bother? The other guy was also miming his lyrics to the crowd, which I consider the lowest of low-class moves. Save it for dinner theater, pal. I passed most of their time out on the back patio, talking about bad British business cards with cheesy tartans and the emergence of zombie dogs with the guys from The Cassettes. (*However, I listened to Cartel's EP this morning and it was promising, plus their last song Sunday night was brand new and it gave me hope to still expect good things from them.*)

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

CNN.com - New York Times reporter jailed - Jul 6, 2005

CNN.com - New York Times reporter jailed - Jul 6, 2005

Judith Miller is in jail. There IS a god.

Now, before people start jumping all over me and making speeches about the First Amendment, etc., let's stop and just consider what exactly is going on here in this particular case. Basically, the anonymous source in this case used his own free speech to punish others, namely Amb. Wilson and his wife, Valerie Plame, for using their own right to free speech to refute claims made by the Bush Administration using proven fact. There might have been fatal consequences for his actions, something which we'll probably never know since her outing could have exposed hundreds of inside sources, Chinese scientists, diplomatic hideouts, etc. This is not like the time Murphy Brown went to jail to protect her source at the contaminated food factory simply b/c the man could not afford to lose his job. (And you remember that episode correctly, you'll remember that Murphy was later screwed over b/c her source refused to testify against his company b/c they gave him a big, fat raise and left her to rot in jail. I hope Judith Miller saw that episode.)

Plus we all know it was Karl Rove. I always laugh a little when I see his name in print. Isn't it a little unfortunate for such a wannabe conservative icon to share a first name with the founder of Socialism? Why didn't he drop the K for a C a long time ago?

Final question, can someone tell me why Bob Novak isn't in jail as well?

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Weekend of Rock

This weekend, I decided to stick around DC and take my alter-ego, Rolfe Diamond, out for a spin. He likes aviator sunglasses so once I'd found the perfect pair, I hit the town with a few musicians and started hunting for a good show. Starting at Velvet Lounge, they were taking forever to get started and we really wanted to see Greenland, a local act that's been playing a lot of shows lately. Since they were taking forever and Greenland was second, we ran across the street to my favorite venue, DC9 (although I am biased now), and caught the first band, The Pawns, who'd just moved up to Williamsburg, Brooklyn (no comment.) They were good, but at first I was really non-plussed b/c every song sounded like they'd just taken the bridge from a popular indie rock song and straightened it out in a full song. One song in particular was just the bridge from "Spiders" by Wilco, which is really awesome, but then they just made it the verse and wrote a new chorus/bridge. It's something that's easy to do so I didn't judge them too badly for it. (*correction* I was just informed that this is part of their schtick, which explains a lot.) Even so, they made up for it with their rock n roll moves and the amount of energy they put into their set. I always enjoy a good band who's willing to have some fun! They also live right down the street from El Pollo Loco in Brooklyn, which serves one of my favorite chicken dishes. I spoke with them briefly after the show and they were all good dudes.

So after that set, it was back to Velvet Lounge for Greenland's set. However, when we got there some crappy, Jason Mraz-bought-an-electric-guitar-to-sing-for-the-ladies band from NoVA was playing. The booker had changed the bill lineup the night of the gig and we'd missed our band! Ridiculous but really, what else can you expect from Velvet Lounge these days? That place is going downhill fast. First, some out of towners steal all of the mics b/c the club refused to pay them, and secondly, all they'll book are these crappy NoVA bands with a Greek draw. What do you expect? There's other clubs out there, people, and might I suggest Warehouse Next Door? I went there last week and saw three of the most original sets I've seen in a long time, on a Monday to boot!

Met some more friends outside and back to DC9 we went. Hello Tokyo was onstage and they were great. Their lead singer was really awesome and, man, can she bite a finger. Unfortunately, they'd also recently left DC for Williamsburg, Brooklyn (again, no comment.) The Bonapartes were up next and I grabbed a booth seat b/c I really wanted to listen to this band without overhearing "Tiffany" talking to her booty call on her cell during the entire set. The Bonapartes were alright. I'd been expecting so much more from them due to the sheer amount of hype they're getting around town from both club booker and press. They sound like Interpol. That's about all I have to say. It just didn't come off as terribly original. I enjoyed it, they were good at what they did, but I was just holding out hope for something original that obviously wasn't in the works. This is a big problem with DC music in general, and I really wish somebody could get their own thing started. A few are trying, namely The Guins (*disclaimer) and Thomas Lunch and the Drugs (a fairly new band I just heard yesterday that needs to play some live shows as I'm interested to seeing them live.)

Finally (finally!), The Hint took the stage. I'm now an enthusiastic fan. For the first time in forever, I was sincerely sad when a band announced their final song. Jesus. They were a monster. First off, they're a little Strokes-y without being shallow. They dress like Marc Bolan from T.Rex. Their songs are well-crafted and they pull off their live show without coming across as cheesy. I can't say enough good things. It was one of those performances where you find yourself having so much fun that you find it impossible to remember all the little details b/c you were so caught up in the moment. Telograph has a show with them at Galaxy Hut in August and I just can't wait!

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http://www.thehint.com

We ended the night eating ribs these guys were grilling up on the corner of Vermont and U Street. Apparently they're opening a soul food joint for the late night set and were trying to spark some interest. They got my attention; $5 of their ribs fed me for 2 days! Amazing. I hope they deliver...

Friday, July 01, 2005

Salon.com Arts & Entertainment | Missionary man

Salon.com Arts & Entertainment | Missionary man

I'm oddly fascinated by Scientology. This Salon article is the first in a series of four and offers a really good explanation about just what's going on. It's just so freaking crazy. I mean, an alien warlord brought the bodies of aliens from across the universe to Earth and then set off all of the worlds volcanos at once, freeing their souls which later settled into our bodies? What? Yesterday I was horrified to learn that both Beck and Jason Lee were $cientologists.