Crickets Chirping

[Apologies for this long post, and further apologies if I've already told you any of this stuff before]

It has taken every ounce of restraint I have to not write about the things my roommate has done since he moved in about two months ago.

I can’t take it any longer.

I got home this morning and went into my bathroom to brush my teeth. On the mirror, in large capital letters was written:

Oh and it’s in permanent marker, so if you’re interested in seeing the real deal just drop by and take a look any time between now and the end of the time.

I don’t know what the phrase means, to what it is in reference, or even who wrote it. Yes, my roommate might have written it, but I can’t say for sure.

Let me back up a bit to the first in a series of events leading up to this.

Roommate Story #1

About two weeks after moving in, he finished up his PhD thesis and had to present it to the department. His defense went well and he got his PhD. So that night we went out to celebrate. He hadn’t slept in two days, because he was working on the presentation, but we pounded beers down starting around 7:30 on up to 12:00, when I had to go home. He insisted on staying at the bar so I left him there.

8 am the next morning I’m making breakfast and I hear the front door open. It’s the roommate, just getting in from the night before. I see he’s wearing a wristband. Did he go to a dance club after all that bar hopping? Holy crap that would be amazing. No, it’s even better.

The wristband says “Brackenridge” on it. Dude woke up in a hospital bed, doesn’t know what happened, and decides to leave without signing out or anything. And walks home (which is about fifty blocks, btw).

Roommate Story #2

Roommate goes to the neighborhood bar a lot because it’s within walking distance, and he knows a lot of people there. He occasionally brings them by the house after the bar closes. One night I was asleep and was awoken by my roommate barging in the front door, accompanied by the sounds of two women. They were quite chatty.

Roommate wakes me up to ask if it’s okay to make some drinks with my liquor. “Sure.” I try to go back to sleep, but they’re all talking so much I can’t. I get up, and put some clothes on so I can join them for a night cap. When I see the time on my alarm clock, I have to do a double-take.

6:30 am is a little early for a night cap.

Let me point out the important details of what I saw in the living room when I got there.

1. It’s 6:30 am and these girls are still awake, yammering away at a mile a minute.
2. Put together, the two girls weigh about 120lbs.
3. One of them has tracks on her arms.

I think I should make some flash cards for the roommate, so he can improve his ability to recognize crank whores and NOT BRING THEM INTO THE HOUSE.

I excused myself to go get some groceries and when I got back they were thankfully gone. All the electronics and other valuables appear to be untouched, so I’m relieved.

Roommate Story #3

Two days after #2, I wake up and find two post-it notes on the TV. The first one says, “Sean, please wake me up when you get up. I think I cracked my head last night.” The note underneath it is completely unintelligible.

I’m thinking, “oh no, he got a concussion and went to sleep- oh shit oh shit oh shit” but I find him awake in his bed.

He points to a wide open, bloody, inch and a half gash on the top of his head and asks, “how does it look?” Turns out he was at the neighborhood bar for the pool tournament, scratched on the 8 ball, got upset, jumped up in the air and hit his head on a large metal AC unit. Then got blood all over the bar, some of which you can still see over by the jukebox.

I drop him off at pro-med to get stitched up, then headed back to the office.

Roommate Story #4

This was last saturday night.

I’m too bombed from ACL to go out so I’m just chillin at the crib. Roommate wants to watch Top Gun and do shots every time something homoerotic happens so about twenty mintues later I’m barely clinging to the chair as the living room tumbles around me.

I go to sleep, and he goes to the neighborhood bar.

Around 3 AM I am awakened by somebody stumbling over a power cord and knocking over a chair with a guitar in it. I look up to see the sillhouete of a completely naked girl in the doorway. I figure this is some girl the roommate brought home and she wants to use my bathroom because he’s using the other one. I roll over and try to go back to sleep.

Ten seconds later, the naked girl is in my bed. She’s very drunk, and even says so. We exchange brief introductions and she asks if I think my roommate knows or cares about her fiance. Before I really have time to process all this, my roommate stumbles in (wearing boxers thank God). He sits down on my bed next to her and I think

Dear God,

While I appreciate your answering my prayor for a threesome, this was not exactly what I had in mind.

The roommate says to her “Hey, uh, my bed’s in the other room.” They chit chat for a bit and finally go back to his room.

The next morning I make myself some breakfast and drink the last beer in the fridge. Roommate and drunk girl stumble out of his room, and she starts making demands and a general ass of herself. “I want a beer” “Somebody fix me a drink” “What’s your dog’s name? Oh that’s a terrible name” “Hey turn on the TV I wanna watch the NFL” “Gimme your phone” -that last one was a doozy. She wanted to call the fiance and let him know what went down the night before.

(Roommate tells me she hopped in his lap at the bar and just started making out with him. While her fiance was in the bathroom or something, I don’t know exactly but the Poor Bastard was at the bar while all this was going on. They ditched him, headed back to his bedroom and viola. Instant drama.)

So she’s discussing her options for exactly what kind of lie to tell the fiance. I get the feeling she’s done this before because she seems pretty calm and collected, no signs of guilt or shame really. Just kind of “well, I could tell him X, Y or Z. What do y’all think? Would you believe that if you were him?”

Ugh. So I leave and go to ACL to see some bands and tell this story to everybody I run into. Then I get home that night and go to check my email.

She apparently used my laptop (without asking me, naturally) and forgot to log out of yahoo mail.

Ooooooh boy I couldn’t resist taking a peek. Nothing really juciy, message-wise. Just a bunch of what looked like sports betting spreadsheets. There was however a photo of her and the fiance, complete with a lovely heart-shaped frosted border around it.

I saved a copy.

Wanna see it?

What I Am Afraid Will Happen Next

The crank chicks’ ex-con boyfriends pay a late night visit, leaving me and the roommate beaten and duct taped to chairs in the garage, with all the valuables in the house stolen. The fiance decides to drop by only mintues after the ex-cons leave, and shoots or stabs both of us as we sit there helplessly. The cops arrive late with the ambulance, and the EMTs immediately recognize my roommate as The Guy Who Walked Out Of The Hospital Without Paying The Bill A Couple Of Months Ago and decide to leave us there.

So if you don’t hear from me for a while, please check the garage.

UPDATE Oct. 3:

Update: I found out that note was written by the roommate, after he had scored with another girl in a relationship the night before. She left around 4am to go back to her boyfriend’s place, and I guess he really liked her and was upset that she left.

He’s laid three different women in ten days (another last night). I wonder if he’s reading this.

Bryan wanted me to post a retraction to something I posted yesterday. I’m not sure if this is what he’s talking about but here goes.

<retraction-maybe>

Last night Bryan and I went to Barfly’s. After a few brews we went outside to the patio and grabbed a table next to a couple of bearded hipsters. I don’t remember exactly how the subject came up but we started talking about my Indie Folk rant from yesterday. At some point I said “SufffJJJan stevens, or however the fahjuck you pronounce that shit” and one of the bearded hipsters chimed in with “It’s pronounced Suf-Yon” to which I replied “oh, like Suf-Yawn” and did a fake yawn. Bryan and I exchanged an “Awesome. A Sufjan fan. Let’s have some fun with this lucky coincidence.” glance.

Bryan explained how I’d been getting crap recommendations from amazon, and he mentioned Cat Power as yet another example. The other guy perked up because, well as a bearded hipster he probably pretends to like that stuff so’s to appear less scary to indie girls. Who knows, but at first he was like “Aw yeah, Cat Power” and then his expression changed when he realized we were laughing so hard at his predictably bad taste.

Maybe those amazon recommendations work in some twisted way because every sucky recommendation was apprently pretty cool to these guys.

It’s funny when people like this kind of music just because they think nobody else knows about it. They’re suprised and a little upset when they find out other people have heard of their favorite bands. That secret information isn’t as scarce as they thought. It’s really funny that they’re downright offended when you proceed to make fun of said bands, and then shred the rest of what’s in their iPod while you’re at it.

One of them went on the offensive and questioned my heterosexuality for buying a Free Design remix album. Hahaha. Nice try. That’s total bachelor pad music.

They got up and left when I yelled something to the effect of “Nick Drake, Motherfuckers!!!!” My debate skillz rock and we got the table to ourselves. That is, until the Gay Men swarmed in on Bryan. There was much discussion of catering, and Jazz Hands. Then we left.

</retraction-maybe>

I almost feel bad for ripping Indie Folk a new one. To repent I’ll write something positive: I’ve run across one of the best-named bands I’ve heard since Trans Am (because it sounds like what you’d listen to while driving around in a trans am):

Bear vs Shark. It sounds just like what you think it would sound like, given that name. I’ve been listening to the new album, Terrorhawk a lot this week.

Short version: This shit rocks. It has chunks of other bands that are better than Sufjan Stevens in its crap.

Long version:

They use synth and piano only sparingly, and instead rely on loud guitar and drums to be the backbone. They tear into songs. Lots of yelling, but it’s balanced out with actual singing (I dig the dual vocals where they yell and sing at the same time) and even some nice harmonies here and there.

“5, 6 Kids” “Seven Stop Hold Restart”, “Out Loud Hey Hey” rock out pretty hard.

“Antwan” – reminds me of Devo for some reason. I mean that in the best way possible.

“I Fucked Your Dad” – powerful. abrasive. melodic. The drummer shines on this track. +10pts for the name.

“What a horrible night for a curse” was pissing me off for being slow and light but then at about two and a half minutes redeemed itself with a nice wave of distorted guitars and pounding drums.

If I write much more about music I think I’m going to have to come up with some kind of rating scale.

I can’t decide if this is a joke taken too far, or just awesome. Behold: Flora Bush, the third Bush twin, AKA The Child Left Behind.

<rant>

I keep getting crap music recommendations from amazon and iTunes lately. I’ve wandered too close to some kind of collaborative filtering wormhole. It tries to suck me away from music I do happen like and into a lazily swirling indie folk vortex, forever on the annoying edge of completing a musical thought but never actually doing so.

I don’t get the whole indie folk thing. So slow it sounds like windchimes. Trying to pick out the melody is like trying to make out shapes in the boundary between the wet and the drying paint. Singer-songwhiners whispering unintelligibly over guitar strumming so flaccid my ears shrivel in disappointment.

Death Cab for Cutie, Sufjan Stevens (how the fjuck do you pronounce that anyways), Iron and Wine, Bright Eyes and hell, even Cat Power please take note:

For your own good, please knock it off. The rest of us are trying to ROCK. Lay off the luudes and learn to double-pick.

</rant>

[I mention software but keep reading, it's not about geek stuff at all.]

In his insightful essay called Why Software Sucks, Scott Berkun makes some observations about how people make good things (not just software) and how people who recieve these things appreciate them.

Good programmers, designers, architects or creators of any kind are simply thoughtful. They are so passionate about making good things, that they will study any discipline, read any book, listen to any person and learn any skill that might improve their abilities to make things worthy of the world. They tear down boundaries of discipline, domain or job title, clawing at any idea, regardless of it’s origins, that might help them make a better thing.

and later,

To understand good, or even great things, we have to turn our consumer instincts off, and think like creators.

Brooks comes over every once in a while to play drums. I try to teach him what I know (which isn’t much) and we play songs that we both listen to. Typically we play along to Spoon, because that’s a great band and also because the drums are usually pretty simple.

I once asked him why he wanted to learn drums. To play in a band? “No, I don’t plan to play in any bands. I just think it will help me to better appreciate the music I listen to. Also being able to play an instrument is important to being a well-rounded person.” I’d honestly never thought of it that way myself, but it instantly made sense. Making music has helped me to appreciate certain aspects of music that I wouldn’t pick up on otherwise. It widens the range of things I can call “good” and therefore increases the number of good things I find around me.

Brooks then deconstructed “Fitted Shirt” by Spoon as we listened to it.

When I Was Still Growing Up
And Dad Head Off To Work
He Put Coat And Tie On
Over Fitted Shirt

Nothing Else Will Fit Right
Or Seems So Directly Applied
Than Fitted Shirt Hung On Me
Fitted Shirt Alright

I Long For The Days
They Used To Say
Ma’am And Yes Sir
For Now I’m Going To Find
Buttons For My
Dad’s Old Used Shirt

Fitted Shirt
Fitted Shirt

Been Looking So Long Now
And No One’s Seen And No One Heard
But When I Go Out Tonight
I’m Going To Put On A Fitted Shirt

One Day It’ll Take
And They’ll Start To Make
Shirts That Fit Right
Til Then I Suppose
I Still Got Dad’s Clothes
And That’s Alright

Fitted Shirt
Fitted Shirt

The lyrics are obviously nostalgic, but the guitar and drum parts tell a symmetric story. Brooks pointed out that it starts out sort of Led-Zepplin-esque, and goes into a Beatles kind of melodic breakdown. These styles are distinct from the styles of other songs on the album, and it’s probably not accidental. That era of music is one that Britt Daniel most likely associates with his dad when he was still growing up, and the nostalgic experience of the Fitted Shirt. The words and the music are really well put together in Brooks’ intepretation. I don’t know if playing drums helped him come to that conclusion, but whatever. It’s an interesting take that makes me like the song more.

Speaking of dads and music, I have a couple of other friends who are both musicans and fathers. I wonder if they’re going to raise rock star kids. Brent once told me he had written a song years ago and originally played it as a rock song but recently discovered it actually made a better lullaby. That’s one of the best examples I’ve ever heard of why it’s so great to know how to play music. You’ll be able to apply and make great things for people your whole life. It doesn’t wear out like physical strength, or change completely every three years like my programming skills, or decay like good looks.

Oh yeah, chicks seem to dig it too.

I uploaded my ACL 2005 photos to flickr.

I didn’t see Thievery Corporation (Apparently everbody else in the known universe did see them, and they all say it was the best show at ACL this year. Whatever. I’m not a big techno fan.) so I think the best shows this year were Arcade Fire and Tortoise. Robert Randolph was pretty good too.

It was so friggin hot, and we didn’t even get rain. Rita didn’t show up and neither did seven of the scheduled bands, including Tegan and Sarah. I saw one person get hauled away by EMTs for what looked like heat exaustion. I also saw one guy hunched over a garbage can, doing what I can only assume was a tribute to either Coldplay or Oasis, his girfriend holding back his hair the entire time. What a sweetie. I also saw a bunch of kids under the barton springs bridge shooting up. On sunday I went to swim across the street at the springs with some friends, which I highly recommend next year.

My legs hurt.

From a series of SMS messages between myself and Ramdung, starting thursday afternoon and ending saturday afternoon:

Ramdung: Its the end of the world as we know it and i feel fine

Me: Fucker Come on up if u want

Ramdung: Im cool heading to my sisters

Ramdung: 90 mins from 610 to 1960 14ft wave above seawall projected and local porn stores still open

Me:Poooorn fuckin hilarious

Ramdung: Getting prepared to loot guitar center any requests

Me: Neuman mics r small n xpensive Sell em l8r n use da cash 4 dope or gas

Ramdung: Done

Ramdung: The cone of uncertainty will swallow u whole so u might as well take another hit from the bowl

Me: Im totally blogging this u know

Ramdung: Id shake my fist at dirty rita i know deep down she’s just a skeeza

Ramdung: txdot to release the hinge

Ramdung: Bill White wants to fly a kite on jamaica beach with stacey keach in gale force winds wearing snorkels and fins while we wait for

Ramdung: Contraflows really blows when where it goes no one knows PIMPS are crying in the streets no one left to crimp their pleats and so I

Ramdung: munch on some pita an

Ramdung: Bush is good food

Ramdung: Everybody is a joto

Ramdung: Bush has crabs

In a Statesman article, John Kelso asks Why is God Angry at the ACL Organizers?

His answer: Starbucks.
My answer: SEPTEMBER.

If the festival gets cancelled, that will suck. There is a possible silver lining though:

Bill Stapleton, a principal partner with CSE, said the group does not carry rain insurance on the festival, which means that ticket refunds would come out of the producers’ pockets. About 65,000 people are expected to attend each day. Three-day passes sold out months ago for prices up to $105. Day passes for Friday were still available for $50 plus service fees.

Yeah, see that, CSE? Piss off God and you will quite literally PAY. Don’t put ACL smack dab in the middle of the hottest month/hurricane season. Sadistic bastards.

Yesterday I went to see the Dalai Lama speak at the Erwin Center.

Overall I was pleased with the experience. He re-iterated his non-non-support of the Bush administration with the non-endorsementt “I believe he is a sincere man” Well, I’ve met some sincerely evil people so I suppose that’s just one way to read between the lines. He later mentioned that on Sept. 12, 2001 he wrote a letter to our president asking him to react nonviolently to the terrorist attack. I assume he sticks by his original suggestion in this matter.

He said many wise things. He also said some things that I just don’t know about. For instance, he spoke of scientific research that found people who use “I” “Me” and “My” more than other pronouns tend to have a higher occurence of heart disease. I trust him when he says that if you think of others before yourself you will be happier, but not when he supports this assertion with references to odd scientific studies.

My biggest disappointment however, came during the question and answer segment. For the record, he didn’t answer any of the questions I submitted:

Question 1:

With all the starving people in developing nations, it’s often easy for us here in the US to lose sight of just how awful the situation is. We are surrounded by a surplus of food and even have an obesity epidemic, so my question regarding hunger is this: have you ever ordered a hot dog and asked the vendor to “make me one with everything?”

Question 2:

It is said that desire is the root of all suffering. The first world has continually developed new forms of technology that spawn yet more oppurtinities for desire to thrive. This is all happening at a rate much faster than that with which our spiritual development can effectively cope. Is it true that you’ve never, you know, done it?

Question 3:

Do Tibetan college kids wake up at 5am to get in line for tickets to see the pope?