Saturday, October 31, 2009

The Kid in Me

Probably the most crushing news I've heard recently is that Weezer is indeed not coming to my school in favor of playing some big radio station event in DC.

Now most people out there probably think, "Big fucking deal." These people are also probably the people who haven't felt the spirit of Christmas or haven't had a human emotion since they saw Fido get hit by the redneck neighbor's Ford F-150.

But to me, it is. As one of my previous posts discussed, I've got a soft spot for the folks that brought us the joy of looking like Buddy Holly and not caring about what people say about you.

As a 13 year old, there wasn't a lot going on for me, other than dicking around and finding the joy in kicking rocks. I more or less took being a peckerwood to an art form. Compared to what I "do" with my "time," I'm living the high life right now reading journal articles and sipping on scotch.

Looking back at everything, it was some sort of luck that I discovered Weezer. I have no idea how I found the first Weezer album I bought (it was the Green one, if you need to know the details), but I was thankful I did. Finally there was a group of musicians that did not look cool at all. I mean, just take a look at this:

Would you invite kids that look like this to a party?

Seriously, do these guys look like the coolest dudes on the block? Hell no. Hell freaking no.

And yet, these guys were fairly successful rock stars. (Yes, the bassist of that group kinda went nuts and fell out of the band, but three out of four isn't bad.) And look at them; they're complete dorks. Listen to their songs; it's about more or less being a inept dork caged by yourself with no way out or just the suck of life. And they make no qualms about singing about how uncool they are. I mean, they mention Dungeons and Dragons in one of their songs. How awesomely dorky is that?

Over time, I sort of forgot about them. I had discovered The Clash and got into thinking, "Boy, Joe Strummer is a hard ass and I want to be like him when I grow up" or some nonsense like that while I'm mentally mailing it in during calculus.

Of course, when I saw that Weezer concert at the end of the summer, it all came back. All those years of just being frustrated and groping and grasping at things in life I could never had came back, brought to the forefront by a lead singer and band which I could relate to. Honestly, while I am a diehard fan of the Clash, it's sort of folly that I can relate all the time to a bunch of hardasses whith fairly rough credentials. Meanwhile, I can easily see the kindred spirits in a group of squares on a stage playing rock music. Because I'm one of them.

So I hope this past summer isn't the last time I get to see them. I hope to one day be able to see them again. At least now I know the kid in me hasn't died yet. And he'll be happy too.

Friday, October 2, 2009


It's a strange thing feeling alone in a crowd. It's an awkward feeling as you wander through a crowd on their way to get a burrito or a slice of pizza feeling like you're some lost kite tossed to the winds.

I was walking back from a late class and I felt the bizarre feeling of nothingness flow through my veins. Yes, there was physical blood flowing through them (if there wasn't, this would be a post entitled "I had an aneurysm"). But I didn't feel any life flowing through me at that exact moment. And yet, I was still moving. It was a strange listlessness as I was more or less blowing through life.

Sometimes it might be because I'm trying to put some actual meaning behind why I do what I do, why I get up in the morning, why I go to class, why I do virtually anything. And when I don't find anything, it doesn't gel with my motivational theory of how people go through the daily motions of life. I've already discounted the absence of a reason because A) it's uncomfortable to think about that and B) if there was no reason, I would've mailed it in years ago. I've more or less written it off as a reason that cannot be explained nor or even in the future.

Nonetheless, sometimes I think it's because there's something missing. Something to give me a purpose in my listless wandering around. Something to give it some sort of structure or at least guidance. Raison d'ĂȘtre, if you will. But it also seems some sort of folly to try to chase it down. Instead, it'll find its way to me one way or another.