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Showing posts from July, 2014

Devo Song of the Day: Beautiful World

When I began this informal series of journal entries about Devo songs, I didn't expect to go to their later era so quickly. But today I think it's more than appropriate today to highlight this track from the 1981 album New Traditionalists .  Within the last little while, I dated this woman for over a year but we broke up and got back together a few times. It happens. When we broke up for the final time, I ended up using the emotions to create personal music that got out the emotions I had to express at the time. I still was interested in her, though, but now she's less than two months away from getting married to Jennings, an absolutely awesome person who fits her much better than I ever could.  Before they got engaged and when they were still two months into their courting period, I went to her sister's engagement party. This was right about the time my Devo infatuation was about a month old, and I was anxious to spread the word but I thought it best to just

Devo Song of the Day: Turn Around

When I was a seven-year-old kid, my brother or sister purchased Devo's "Whip It" as a 45. The song was a big hit, and somehow they got a copy of it. That 45 must have been played a hundred times in my house in Lynchburg. The B-side, however, was not. "Turn Around" was not on the radio, and I don't think any of us felt the need to play it. Why would we? It wasn't hip. It wasn't cool.  As I grew up, I forgot entirely about Devo, and what I thought was just a complete one-hit wonder. I remember Weird Al did a parody song called "Dare to be Stupid" that helped confirm this sense that Devo was just a joke, and not one that had any sort of longevity to it.  Somewhere during college in the early 1990's, I heard Nirvana's cover of the song, and thought it was great. It reminded me of the single, which was probably gathering dust in my parent's basement.  I wish I could say that Devo helped pave the way for me to enjoy

Rough thoughts on making music

I am not a trained musician. This fact becomes blatantly clear to me in those moments when I'm listening to things I've created and I'm trying to analyze whatever it is I'm trying to record. I seem to have this conviction that I should press the red button every time I'm equipped correctly and I have something to say. Since 2009, my recordings have been just as important as my written journals to my mission to record as much of my life as possible. I've learned to use my guitar as a way to prompt myself to wax lyrically about how I felt on that particular evening. These audio time-stamps define who I was in snippets when I feel free to say exactly what I want to say.  But, are they anything anyone would want to listen to?  I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. I am reluctant to post new things to my soundcloud account  because I don't know how best to explain the context for why whatever I post is important to me. Everything I do makes

A requiem for old paper

On December 16, 2007, the president of CARS sent me a letter thanking me for my $30 donation. At the time, my son was less than two months away from being born, and I was eight months into my job at Charlottesville Tomorrow . I still lived under the impression I was going to be in a marriage with her, but now I don't remember sending them this money, nor ever making such a gift. Why them? I also can't imagine spending $30 on a charity at this moment, seeing as I owe WTJU $60 for the pledge I made back in April.  Into the recycling bin with this letter, and many more pieces of paper, as it's now almost seven years later and I have this tremendous need to purge the relics of the past that remain in my house, even though my life has moved on.  Underneath the letter from Larry Claytor  is a handwritten note from a Charlottesville Planning Commission meeting from a date unknown. Bill Emory is listed as being a participant, as are Cheri Lewis and Mike Farruggio . E

Hope for a new direction while realistic about goals

When I got on the scale this morning, I weighed 190 pounds. If I was in England, that would be 13.6 stone.  Either way, I'm 25 pounds overweight, and it shows. I have less confidence. I'm sluggish. I'm most often depressed. I have become very good at making excuses for not exercising.  This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to let myself go like this. I wasn't supposed to ever let myself give up my best anti-depressant.  But, I did. And now I have to reach within to try to stop making excuses. And I have to improve. Or, it's only going to get worse.  Let's go back for a moment to the last time I was 190, putting aside for a moment that I've been at this heavier amount for at least six months now. Maybe longer. I don't know. I sort of stopped caring about my health and fitness last fall, and that's now carried over to my mind, which has dealt with this years losses by simply retreating. I've created this pr

On being cool

It's 1:16 in the morning. I couldn't sleep. I've been in a terrible depressive cycle of late. I got off work and just wanted to go to bed. I'm out of my routine due to overwatching the World Cup. It's summer and I'm jittery and I'm not taking care of myself properly. My next birthday is approaching and I don't know what to do in order to get myself out of a rut I've been in for most of this year.  Now it's 1:17 in the morning. My happiest moment today was when I finally was able to make a decision to turn the air conditioning on. I tend these days to not be able to make even the simplest choices if it doesn't relate to either of the work I do. When I'm not at work, I tend too just lose all sense of focus. Across town, my American children are asleep at 1:18 in the morning. When they're here, I am able to make choices. The lethargy might not be fully gone, but I feel like I have a sense of purpose when I am with them. When th