These lyrics aren't profound but they have really been speaking to me lately. If you guys havent realized yet, music is the core to my very existence. The effect is lost a bit without the actual music so I implore you to download/buy.
Punchline: A Beautiful Green
Wrong way on the wrong side of town
Your feet are so stuck to the ground
Ive been known to sometimes get away
But you never leave
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
This air isnt anywhere else
It makes me talk to myself
Tells me where to breathe and
Where to smoke
I might not leave
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
This is the way you are
Dont change yourself for me
(Theres nothing wrong with that)
This is the way you are
(Thats just the way that you are)
Dont change yourself for me
(Thats just the way that you are)
(Thats just the way that you are)
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Gatsby and the Girls at Red Rocks
Gatsby and the Girls at Red Rocks
Of all the events that were planned for my family's visit 311 at Red Rocks was definitely the most memorable. My two sisters and I made the trip from my parents hotel room downtown to the stadium alone. It was the only time that we would get to be alone without the rents overlooking our actions.
We arrived, as suggested, two hours early to ensure that we had good seats. We were awarded good parking in the top parking lot close to the entrance. It was evident that we were not as prepared as any of the other concert attendees. The parking lot looked like a campground. Every car was loaded with coolers full of beer. Most of the people sat around in lawn-chairs by their vehicles. People were playing Frisbee in the parking lot. Some ganja could be smelled as we pulled into an empty spot next to beamer. Everyone was clad in beach clothing with sandals, bathing suits and sunglasses. And here we were, dressed as though we were going to some special event with sneakers and shirts and our hair done nice.
I feel really weird, Lyssy said, Everyone is partying and stuff in the parking lot drinking beer and were like the boring people just going up to the concert entrance.
I told her to forget about it. That they were them and we were us. Prophetic, I know. Surprisingly, though the parking lot seemed pretty full, the line to the concert was rather empty. I guess Johnny was right, Jess told Lyssy, The 311 fans are all potheads and are either drinking and smoking in the parking lot or too lazy or high to get here early.
The gates had just opened when my sister Jess said that she felt as though she was going to faint. She had felt sick that whole day and almost did not come to the show. But she was too excited about the experience to stay at the hotel and miss out. She said that she would go to the bathroom as soon as we got into the stadium while Lyssy and I found seats. Good thing, because the seats were almost full by the time we found Jess.
This was both of my sisters first outside concert. They had been to a bunch of concerts but they were all indoors. This was my first normal concert. I had only been to two before this. Woodstock (or as my one souvenir calls it Romestock) and Warped Tour. Both outside but both not a normal show. The environments were similar though. Outside shows are more like camping with some music added. Theyre a little dirtier and more laid back. The people are always friendly and high and overall the experience is much more party oriented.
Being the good older brother that I am, I provided the alcoholic beverages that would loosen my sisters up enough to get them dancing and enjoying themselves. Anything else that may have come their way was not my doing and I accept no blame for.
We made friends with the people around us even though I did not appreciate the snowboard instructors comment At least someone will fight for that asshole when I told him I was in the army. Like he knows anything about anything. I fight for my country, not for Bush. And what does he know about politics anyway, perched on a snowboard away from all civilization? Like he knows anything about anything.
One of the girls that were sitting next to me was anthropology major in Boulder. She had tender eyes and a mischievous smile. She told me a bout her plans of early graduation and travel and her indecision about graduate school. She was thoughtful and well spoken and I felt chemistry between us. She was there to see Pepper, a group from Hawaii I had never heard of. They were the opening act.
With a sound very similar to, yet very different from Sublime, Pepper got the crowd moving and the show was kicked off in style. Herb could be smelled all around and though I hate to be a suit, I hoped I wouldnt sniff enough to fail a piss test, especially since I had received three last month. I was a little rigid in my movements to Pepper since I had never heard of them and only had one beer before their set started but I latched on to a catchy hook of theirs and acted like I knew all about the song. I could feel the girl next to mes slithery flow as she moved her body to and fro to the reggae sounds that made snakes in all of us emerge. Lyssy still seemed a bit rigid but I could feel Jess letting go as the minutes dripped.
More beverages were consumed, cigarettes were smoked and bowls were toked during the break between groups. The theater was entirely full by the time The Whalers came onto the stage and all the reservations held while Pepper was on stage were completely let go as we all swayed to the free loving energies fused into the Bob Marley songs that the Whalers played so well. Everyone sang along to the known songs and the theater seemed to move as a whole, like each person was connected through the strings of music reverberated through our bodies. I started to forget about the girl next to me and my sisters and I jammed to The Whalers like we were on a whole other plain where music was more than the great unifier that it really was that day but was a world healer, and we were at its forefront, singing to the skies and moving the planets.
By the time 311 was about to come onto the stage, the theater seemed to double in the amount of people. All the spaces around us were filled by souls in search of closer unity with the band and the motions, yet a glance back to the seats behind us showed that the stadiums population did not shift downward. More water was being poured into a glass of sand and we all swam together when 311 finally came on stage. I didn't know too many 311 songs before the show but that didn't matter at this point. The energy was already infused and my body seemed to move with the knowledge of every beat as though I played the songs myself. The transitions were detected well before they were played and the words were repeated as though the songs had been rehearsed beforehand. While The Whalers brought out a feeling of greater purpose, love and unity, 311 brought out a sense of life that went beneath the greater purposes. 311 brought us back down to earth in a celebration of the interactions between us all as people, desperately needing to feel united through violence and love.
As the show came to an end, the three hours that had passed felt like twenty minutes. I turned my sisters to see what they thought and my stomach held onto the happy butterflies that saw that they seemed to really enjoy the show on a level they may not have ever before.
I turned to our newfound friends and told them how great it was to meet them and we all agreed to what a great show it had been. I heard the snowboard instructor tell the girl next to mes friend that he will call her sooner rather than later and I lost my will to ask the girl for her number. I had been defeated by the allure of the snow bums exciting and free life at the top of a mountain. As they all hugged as though they were long lost friends I grabbed my sisters hand and tugged her in the direction of the exit. Before beginning our exit the girl next to me caught wind of our direction and intent and grabbed my arm.
Hey, I had a great time, she said and stared into my eyes.
Yeah, I did too.
We hugged. And then there was an awkward linger as my balls shriveled and tucked themselves back into a pouch in my stomach and no numbers were exchanged. I grabbed my sisters hand and we navigated through the crowd to my car. Waiting in line I agreed to give some guy a ride back to his house. He hit on my sister in the back seat and my sister shrugged him off. He stepped out of the car and caught a ride with a car full of girls that were also shrugging him off. It took almost an hour to get through the line of cars waiting to get onto 70 East headed towards Downtown Denver. The sky was scantily clad of clouds that ride home but I knew that she was up there somewhere floating, forever etched in a 311 show, my new Daisy.
Of all the events that were planned for my family's visit 311 at Red Rocks was definitely the most memorable. My two sisters and I made the trip from my parents hotel room downtown to the stadium alone. It was the only time that we would get to be alone without the rents overlooking our actions.
We arrived, as suggested, two hours early to ensure that we had good seats. We were awarded good parking in the top parking lot close to the entrance. It was evident that we were not as prepared as any of the other concert attendees. The parking lot looked like a campground. Every car was loaded with coolers full of beer. Most of the people sat around in lawn-chairs by their vehicles. People were playing Frisbee in the parking lot. Some ganja could be smelled as we pulled into an empty spot next to beamer. Everyone was clad in beach clothing with sandals, bathing suits and sunglasses. And here we were, dressed as though we were going to some special event with sneakers and shirts and our hair done nice.
I feel really weird, Lyssy said, Everyone is partying and stuff in the parking lot drinking beer and were like the boring people just going up to the concert entrance.
I told her to forget about it. That they were them and we were us. Prophetic, I know. Surprisingly, though the parking lot seemed pretty full, the line to the concert was rather empty. I guess Johnny was right, Jess told Lyssy, The 311 fans are all potheads and are either drinking and smoking in the parking lot or too lazy or high to get here early.
The gates had just opened when my sister Jess said that she felt as though she was going to faint. She had felt sick that whole day and almost did not come to the show. But she was too excited about the experience to stay at the hotel and miss out. She said that she would go to the bathroom as soon as we got into the stadium while Lyssy and I found seats. Good thing, because the seats were almost full by the time we found Jess.
This was both of my sisters first outside concert. They had been to a bunch of concerts but they were all indoors. This was my first normal concert. I had only been to two before this. Woodstock (or as my one souvenir calls it Romestock) and Warped Tour. Both outside but both not a normal show. The environments were similar though. Outside shows are more like camping with some music added. Theyre a little dirtier and more laid back. The people are always friendly and high and overall the experience is much more party oriented.
Being the good older brother that I am, I provided the alcoholic beverages that would loosen my sisters up enough to get them dancing and enjoying themselves. Anything else that may have come their way was not my doing and I accept no blame for.
We made friends with the people around us even though I did not appreciate the snowboard instructors comment At least someone will fight for that asshole when I told him I was in the army. Like he knows anything about anything. I fight for my country, not for Bush. And what does he know about politics anyway, perched on a snowboard away from all civilization? Like he knows anything about anything.
One of the girls that were sitting next to me was anthropology major in Boulder. She had tender eyes and a mischievous smile. She told me a bout her plans of early graduation and travel and her indecision about graduate school. She was thoughtful and well spoken and I felt chemistry between us. She was there to see Pepper, a group from Hawaii I had never heard of. They were the opening act.
With a sound very similar to, yet very different from Sublime, Pepper got the crowd moving and the show was kicked off in style. Herb could be smelled all around and though I hate to be a suit, I hoped I wouldnt sniff enough to fail a piss test, especially since I had received three last month. I was a little rigid in my movements to Pepper since I had never heard of them and only had one beer before their set started but I latched on to a catchy hook of theirs and acted like I knew all about the song. I could feel the girl next to mes slithery flow as she moved her body to and fro to the reggae sounds that made snakes in all of us emerge. Lyssy still seemed a bit rigid but I could feel Jess letting go as the minutes dripped.
More beverages were consumed, cigarettes were smoked and bowls were toked during the break between groups. The theater was entirely full by the time The Whalers came onto the stage and all the reservations held while Pepper was on stage were completely let go as we all swayed to the free loving energies fused into the Bob Marley songs that the Whalers played so well. Everyone sang along to the known songs and the theater seemed to move as a whole, like each person was connected through the strings of music reverberated through our bodies. I started to forget about the girl next to me and my sisters and I jammed to The Whalers like we were on a whole other plain where music was more than the great unifier that it really was that day but was a world healer, and we were at its forefront, singing to the skies and moving the planets.
By the time 311 was about to come onto the stage, the theater seemed to double in the amount of people. All the spaces around us were filled by souls in search of closer unity with the band and the motions, yet a glance back to the seats behind us showed that the stadiums population did not shift downward. More water was being poured into a glass of sand and we all swam together when 311 finally came on stage. I didn't know too many 311 songs before the show but that didn't matter at this point. The energy was already infused and my body seemed to move with the knowledge of every beat as though I played the songs myself. The transitions were detected well before they were played and the words were repeated as though the songs had been rehearsed beforehand. While The Whalers brought out a feeling of greater purpose, love and unity, 311 brought out a sense of life that went beneath the greater purposes. 311 brought us back down to earth in a celebration of the interactions between us all as people, desperately needing to feel united through violence and love.
As the show came to an end, the three hours that had passed felt like twenty minutes. I turned my sisters to see what they thought and my stomach held onto the happy butterflies that saw that they seemed to really enjoy the show on a level they may not have ever before.
I turned to our newfound friends and told them how great it was to meet them and we all agreed to what a great show it had been. I heard the snowboard instructor tell the girl next to mes friend that he will call her sooner rather than later and I lost my will to ask the girl for her number. I had been defeated by the allure of the snow bums exciting and free life at the top of a mountain. As they all hugged as though they were long lost friends I grabbed my sisters hand and tugged her in the direction of the exit. Before beginning our exit the girl next to me caught wind of our direction and intent and grabbed my arm.
Hey, I had a great time, she said and stared into my eyes.
Yeah, I did too.
We hugged. And then there was an awkward linger as my balls shriveled and tucked themselves back into a pouch in my stomach and no numbers were exchanged. I grabbed my sisters hand and we navigated through the crowd to my car. Waiting in line I agreed to give some guy a ride back to his house. He hit on my sister in the back seat and my sister shrugged him off. He stepped out of the car and caught a ride with a car full of girls that were also shrugging him off. It took almost an hour to get through the line of cars waiting to get onto 70 East headed towards Downtown Denver. The sky was scantily clad of clouds that ride home but I knew that she was up there somewhere floating, forever etched in a 311 show, my new Daisy.
Grown Up
My family came to visit me a little over a week ago and I have been at a loss for words since. They have left this imprint on my apartment and on my days. Ive been trying to explain exactly what happened when they came and how much it all meant to me but it keeps coming out super cheesy. Ill give it one last go.
They came on a Monday. I cleaned all Sunday night and Monday morning to ensure that they did not think I was a slob. Not that I am a slob but with my daily cleaning many things get overlooked. Vacuuming is a rarity and my dusting days are an endangered species. Basically, the only time the vacuuming and dusting get done, and they always get done together, is when I have visitors from out of town on their way. And even then, sometimes I still don't do it. But this was my family's first time ever visiting me in Denver. This was the first time my family was ever visiting me when I had my own place. This was the first time that they were ever meeting grown up Johnny.
I realized once they came out to my car that I was no grown up. My desire for acceptance and approval began once we approached my car. Ever since I was younger I realized that there is a direct correlation to how responsible he sees a person and the condition of their car. One of the biggest impressions that would carry through the weekend all began with how he viewed the condition of my car.
Oh, you got the windows tinted huh? When did you get that done?
Ive had that for awhile. I got it done as soon as I got to Denver.
Oh.
That killed me. What the hell does that mean? Did he like the tinted windows? Did he think it made the car look too ghetto? Whats wrong with tinted windows? It keeps the sun off the leather. It makes the car look sportier. Ill take it off.
It looks good.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, I thought, Go on.
You keep it in good condition. I was kind of expecting to see it all banged up like the Honda.
Awhile back while I was still an undergrad, my parents came to visit and saw that my Honda had taken a beating from being parked in Queens. I don't think my father ever believed that the dents were received from random hit and runs while my car parked for the day but it was true. I was surprised that he hadn't taken a look at the engine before we left the airport.
Let me take a look under the hood.
Were the first words out of his mouth as we parked in my garage. Before any luggage was handled or a trip upstairs to see my apartment was undergone, my father had a need to look under the hood of my car. Like anyone cleans their engine. I do. Another hurdle passed. My father was proud of my car cleanliness and upkeep. Now the apartment.
Surprisingly there wasn't anything that they could point out that they didn't like. In fact, they seemed rather impressed with my choices in decoration and layout. My mother still offered to redo it, but more out of her desire to decorate than anything else. But even she realized that the current setup was the best possible. I know this all sounds really corny but you don't understand my need for acceptance with my parents. Its weird because I couldn't care less what anyone else thinks, but with my parents a negative reaction could be fatal to my well being. So there is a lot of thought that goes into everything that I do that would be judged by them. House decorating and cleanliness is definitely one of those things. And my reward: A handshake from my father and a Congratulations, I'm proud of you.
They came on a Monday. I cleaned all Sunday night and Monday morning to ensure that they did not think I was a slob. Not that I am a slob but with my daily cleaning many things get overlooked. Vacuuming is a rarity and my dusting days are an endangered species. Basically, the only time the vacuuming and dusting get done, and they always get done together, is when I have visitors from out of town on their way. And even then, sometimes I still don't do it. But this was my family's first time ever visiting me in Denver. This was the first time my family was ever visiting me when I had my own place. This was the first time that they were ever meeting grown up Johnny.
I realized once they came out to my car that I was no grown up. My desire for acceptance and approval began once we approached my car. Ever since I was younger I realized that there is a direct correlation to how responsible he sees a person and the condition of their car. One of the biggest impressions that would carry through the weekend all began with how he viewed the condition of my car.
Oh, you got the windows tinted huh? When did you get that done?
Ive had that for awhile. I got it done as soon as I got to Denver.
Oh.
That killed me. What the hell does that mean? Did he like the tinted windows? Did he think it made the car look too ghetto? Whats wrong with tinted windows? It keeps the sun off the leather. It makes the car look sportier. Ill take it off.
It looks good.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, I thought, Go on.
You keep it in good condition. I was kind of expecting to see it all banged up like the Honda.
Awhile back while I was still an undergrad, my parents came to visit and saw that my Honda had taken a beating from being parked in Queens. I don't think my father ever believed that the dents were received from random hit and runs while my car parked for the day but it was true. I was surprised that he hadn't taken a look at the engine before we left the airport.
Let me take a look under the hood.
Were the first words out of his mouth as we parked in my garage. Before any luggage was handled or a trip upstairs to see my apartment was undergone, my father had a need to look under the hood of my car. Like anyone cleans their engine. I do. Another hurdle passed. My father was proud of my car cleanliness and upkeep. Now the apartment.
Surprisingly there wasn't anything that they could point out that they didn't like. In fact, they seemed rather impressed with my choices in decoration and layout. My mother still offered to redo it, but more out of her desire to decorate than anything else. But even she realized that the current setup was the best possible. I know this all sounds really corny but you don't understand my need for acceptance with my parents. Its weird because I couldn't care less what anyone else thinks, but with my parents a negative reaction could be fatal to my well being. So there is a lot of thought that goes into everything that I do that would be judged by them. House decorating and cleanliness is definitely one of those things. And my reward: A handshake from my father and a Congratulations, I'm proud of you.
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