and when i say devil, i mean the manifestation of doubt.

yeah I know, I have a renewed musical obsession and won't shut up, I'M SORRY. but:

words in Ted Leo songs I have had to look up in the dictionary:
- ossify (to become rigid or inflexible in habits, attitudes, opinions, etc.)
- apostasy (a total desertion of or departure from one's religion, principles, party, cause, etc.)
- fungible (being of such nature or kind as to be freely exchangeable or replaceable, in whole or in part, for another of like nature or kind.)
- abjure (to renounce or give up under oath)

...and others I can't remember right now. question: do you know what is more awesome/hotter than a punk boy with a good vocabulary? answer: NOTHING. nnnghgadsjfajskdfasdf.

cambridge common, 2 PM, 4/14/10

Old red brick and new gray stone
monuments and cherry trees stand alone
Christmas lights still wink in the trees
tangled in winter, now set free
by the midday sun, the Cambridge breeze
the miracles in the new green leaves

As I walk on to Harvard Square
The clash of years, it meets me there
the Oxford streets, the anytown stores
the singer standing in the door

and seven nations pass me by
underneath a perfect sky
If I should stay here for the night
I think I'd wake to see the light

everything loosened by the sun
I move easily on along
through wide streets and blue skies
through the people's town with the sun in my eyes

if I should stay here for tonight
I think I'd wake to see the light


[it's stupid how pretty Boston is sometimes. what a city. also, cheers to Ted Leo for inspiration for the "Harvard Square" line - he writes the best songs about Boston, I'm just trying to catch up.]

so I asked a Mr. Mellor how to get to where one's going...

it turns out most of the musicians I love dearly have tremendous hero-worship crushes on Joe Strummer, the most notable one right now being Mr. Ted Leo. guys, if you don't listen to him, you SHOULD. and if you have never seen him live, YOU REALLY SHOULD. dude has so much energy, it's essentially impossible not to dance and jump and basically have a fantastic time while he's playing. I saw him by himself at this teeny little venue at my school in September and fell in love (and met him! he's wicked nice and apologized for being all sweaty when my friend and I sort of hugged him, ahaha). saw him again on Saturday night with his full band and had a big stupid grin on my face the entire time.

I'm not going to ramble on about songs and setlists because nobody but me listens to him anyway. but I attempted to post videos because this man is a) talented, b) hilarious, c) brilliant and d) adorable, to be quite honest, and it really comes across best when you see him sing, but alas, my internet connection starts going berserk every time I try to upload videos, so, FAIL. you'll just have to take my word for it.

also, during "Ballad of the Sin Eater," which I did not get a decent video of because I'm an idiot, he did a legitimately awesome Joe Strummer/Johnny Rotten-crazy-spastic-mad-frontman...thing. he put down the guitar and was just all over the place with the mike stand going crazy. it was awesome. my words do not do Ted Leo justice. GO SEE HIM. LOVE HIM.

some fragments

last night I had a dream that I was feeling so self-conscious about being fat that I felt physically compelled to buy a cupcake to make myself feel better even though it made me sick. I can't make this shit up. apparently my subconscious is...quite self-conscious.


unrelatedly, drinking coffee wakes up my writing brain. I LIKE IT. I also like Walt Whitman. he was the man.

i'm worried, i'm always in love.

I go a week between updates a lot.

I miss hockey intensely. playing, that is. I went to the women's hockey banquet today - the coach invited us sportswriters, he is the nicest human in the world - and I miss my team. It's kind of surprised me how many of them have said they miss me too. Love those bitches.

I watched most of two baseball games last night. I think I love the Oakland A's, for a variety of mostly stupid and mostly personal/interpersonal reasons. I'm also certain that I love the Boston Red Sox, but that isn't news. Dustin Pedroia stole my heart two years ago at Fenway.

I want to live in Northern California for at least a year. It's been decided. I think I might work for the San Jose Sharks. Or the A's. Or freelance write for whoever wants me to.

I might be going to Minneapolis this summer. It's hard to articulate how fucking excited I am about that.

I am seeing Ted Leo in three to four hours. I have a huge musical crush on him and kind of just want to sit and talk to him about the Clash and living in Boston and Bruce Springsteen.

I don't know why I never listened to Wilco before this point but I kind of love them.

Pens' last regular-season game is tomorrow night. I hope so hard that they're still playing when I get home in May, that's all I'm saying.

I can't wait for it to be May, and to be home with my car and my favorite people and my TV and my bed, and my couch. There is a serious lack of couches in my life at school.

I also think this last month in Boston-town could potentially be really great. I've sort of found a home at the newspaper office, which I really should have known would happen all along. I'm still in transition, still in progress, but I'm eighteen and that's how I'm supposed to be.

I'm listening to a lot of old, and new, Green Day lately. Comfort music, but also The Greatest Music.

do you believe in something beautiful? then get up and be it.

"Me and Johnny sittin' in the green grass -
I don't remember too much from that far back in the past,
But man, oh man, was Johnathan a laugh
In those days.
Apparently he was my very best friend -
We spent warm summer days wishing they would never end -
But I only know from photographs I look at
Every now and again.

And J-J-Johnny -
Ooh, ooh, all he left us was an apple tree,
And ooh, where'd he go, and ooh, why'd he leave,
And ooh, why do I grieve?

Now I don't ever see Johnathan no more,
But my life rolls on just like it did before,
And I only wonder what it is
That I even miss him for.

Me and Timory holdin' hands -
I was shakin' hers, cause she said she was a fan,
There was an awkward pause, and something that should've began
Just passed us by.
But I watched her sing along with every word,
In the prettiest voice that I never heard,
And I still see her dancing, wearin' my shirt:
Right there.

And t-t-timorous me -
All Timory left me was a memory.
And ooh, I was blind, and ooh, now I find
That I can't see.

Now me and Jodi spend a lot of our time
Just sittin' in silence, driving late at night,
And maybe even wonderin' what's on each other's mind
This time.
But I know she's like me, so I let it ride -
She's dwelling in that quiet space left behind,
Where only peace can answer why,
And you abide
The birds must fly."

- "Timorous Me," Ted Leo & the Pharmacists

going to see Ted Leo again next weekend. CAN'T WAAAAIT :D

do you dream too much? do you think what you need is a crutch?

so I decided to just write while I listened to "Homecoming," since it always seems to inspire a whole lot in me...this is what happened:

Oakland. Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…what? The loudest guitar chords you can manage and the most honest punk-rock shout you’ve got, it seems.

“you taught me how to live” – breaks my fucking heart. Billie Joe, the lost boy, for just a second before this army of stomping boots comes in behind him – Billie, vulnerable, show me how to live, tell me you know something more than I do.

The Northern California rain, desperate at the far end of the continent, intensified and blazing the way everything seems to be out there. Saint Jimmy frantic and wavering, going up in one last towering inferno (I don’t mean to foreshadow) for all to see and marvel over. He may not have been right but he was honest, for a brief flashing second he was beautifully, violently honest about what he believed was the truth.

Lost without that furious driving force, now, where to go where to go? Onward, of course, always onward. Does anyone care if nobody cares? This generation, you hear it all the time, no cause to rally around, like every other group of kids who came before lived and breathed worthy causes.

Such a wonderful image – “Jesus filling out paperwork.” Fucking literary, Billie. And the underbelly, that loose confederation of shady characters we all think we could hang out with, if maybe we were just a little cooler.

ANYBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE.

Picking up the pace, raging and stumbling onward through the cracked streets (and the broken homes?). Four chords and then all of a sudden we slow, and stop. It’s Sunday morning coming down and the church bells are singing out over a deserted town; our hero wakes up on the couch, disoriented, sore, hopeful for a second till he sees, “you’re still not here…and you can’t tell anyone, cause no one’s here.” What a gray, dismal morning, should have stayed home after all, and what in the world are you doing here? The loneliest, most pathetic way to wake up, in yesterday’s clothes and yesterday’s hopes.

WHERE’D YOU GO?

…Jeez. Get over it, man, we’ve got places to go shows to see things to do all over the place, a ROCK AND ROLL LIFE TO LIVE. If you can play the shit out the drums, the guitar, you’ll be fine after all, kid, let go. Get on the wagon with me and we’ll make it just fine.

You can feel the change here; you can feel the streets shake and the key change upward one more time. Upward, higher, pure musical hope (the Ramones might do it best) like the desperation murmur of a heartbeat. Nobody ever said that life was fair, hey, but we’re not through yet. We’re fucked up, we’re not the same, but in the end we’re still here, and we’re the ones going home.

Home, what a thought, after all you’ve been through, to go back to the place where you used to be so different. What a thought, and what is this that happens when you think about it – you started fucking running as soon as your feet touched ground, hey, something in you wants to be there. In the end, you come back. You come full circle. Home, we’re coming home again, and you don’t have to be told to know where that is. You can see it. Maybe you’ve got this rambunctious punk-rock army you can hear behind you, maybe you’re all alone but you’re just fine either way – you are going home.