Review: Turin Brakes - JackInABox

Turin Brakes JackInABox

The Pitchfork review of this album calls it "a definitively happy piece of work beginning to end." Uh, no. Songs about death, relationships falling apart, and loneliness don't become happy just because you can sing about such things with a smile on your face. That said, if you should find your world falling apart, these are the guys you want to hang out with when you hit bottom. Because there is no guarantee when you are down there that anyone is going to throw you a rope, so you'll just have to start climbing and hope you have the strength to make it back into the daylight. Sometimes your climb is driven by the sheer force of will, other times through cheesy motivational sentiment; what is important is that you keep going and don't stop to look down. "I may be bleeding, but I don't care / See where i'm leading, see I'm almost there / These days lost their meaning, but I don't care / But still we're all breathing, so cry if you dare" (Buildings Wrap Around Me). Some of the material doesn't work, but for the most part this is a consistently decent album. It doesn't reach the heights of the their previous two, but it doesn't have the lows either. Rating (using the poker hand scale): full house.

Brief consultation of the roadmap

I'm in a music review kind of mood, so the next few posts will probably be my unvarnished opinions about recent (or recently heard) releases. Before I get to that, though, let me just say that if you've never seen Keith Knight's comics, you're missing out.

Above the Clouds

Turin Brakes, from new album JackInABox

One, two, three, four
Up above the clouds, it is always a blue sky
Some will try a trick, but you just look them in the eyes
What will they do, when the money runs dry?
Where will they go, when the jet planes can't fly?

When all is said and done I will love you
When all is said and done I'll still love you

Starring out at the stars, you feel helpless and so small
Nothing but closed down bars, no one helps you when you fall
One day this world will be returning to its' prime
We'll all be gone, there'll be no more roads to find

When all is said and done i will love you
When all is said and done i'll still love you

The rain came again,
Cleaning the dream and it always makes me cry, oh my
Something about the rain, it sends memories through my veins
Memories always stain, you can't wash them down the drain
Where will I go when my broken body dies?
And what will I know when i look up to the skies?

When all is said and done will you love me?
When all is said and done will you love me?

Another imagined conversation

Standing on rocks along the Lake Michigan shoreline.

It's a nice night.
Yes.
Do you ever wonder...
Wonder what?
What one choice you made in your life that irreversibly affected everything else after that, and whether you would change it if you could.
Life isn't a "choose your own adventure" book.
I know, I know it's not, but if you could...
I would have picked what was behind door number three.
C'mon, seriously.
I'm stalling, let me think about it for a bit...Let's walk a while.

No.
No what?
There isn't any one thing big enough to qualify.
How can that be possible?
Because too much depends on what other people would have done.
What do you mean?
I mean...look, I could have resisted coming back to Chicago after school. Or been married and divorced two or three times already. I could have chosen to be an architect instead of a teacher, or gone to school in a whole other state. For instance, if I had gone to USC I probably would have drifted up to San Francisco when I was done. And maybe, independent of everything else, I would have met the people I know there now and in turn would know that same group. Or I could have gone to school in St. Louis and stayed and eventually met a different, but still known to me now, group. Or gone to Florida and met L. Undergrad was probably the biggest choice, but I would not change that.
So you think there is a certain amount of the inevitable, no matter what choice you make?
"A certain amount"...yes.
That seems a little depressing.
It's just one way to look at it.
We should have more control over our fate than that.
We believe that we do, and that's why we get out of bed in the morning. I mean, despite what I'm saying, I do believe that we decide our own fate for the most part. But at the same time, I think that we are somehow connected to people in a way that makes it very likely that they will pass through our lives at some point.
So our choices make no difference?
Our choices affect the outcome of those meetings; whether we keep people in our lives or let them go, whether it is a positive or negative thing.
You sure do leave a lot up to fate.
I try not to, but fate always seems to win.

Float On

Spent Saturday watching the ballgame and playing poker. Lost at poker, so my two match win streak is done. Probably won't win again for another six months.
Sunday, out early to J & K's; accompanied them and Soren to the Pride parade. A few highlights: dykes on bikes (loud and louder), seeing Lee on a float (but I don't think he saw us), the defective green beads that left J & K with ink all over their necks, creative uses for black tape, lots of women carrying small dogs (?), the wienermobile (of course), and various levels of sunburn throughout the crowd.
My favorite part: There was a float that had a machine that blew a cloud of rainbow confetti into the air. It stopped right where we were standing, and proceeded to spew confetti for about two minutes solid. I just stood there, looking up where the sun should be, but it was mostly blocked out, reflecting off of the paper rainbow cascading down on us.
Such a fun crowd. I cannot understand why I have never been to one of these before.

Fragment of an imagined conversation

A knock on the door
Hi
What do you want?
A new beginning
It’s too late for that
Another chapter, then
And how would this one end?
Does it have to end?
It always does, why should this time be different
But I thought…
You thought I would wait for you
Well, yeah
I got tired of waiting
Is there someone else?
Makes no difference
There is, isn’t there?
If there were, would you fight for me?
What do you mean?
Would you try to pry me away; is it that important to you?
Yes…maybe…I don’t know; are you happy?
Since when did my happiness matter?
You were happy before
And you weren't, so why would you be now?

Movie night

Friday night, out to Hollywood Blvd with Ydalia, Monica, Jorge and Kerry (work, etc. people). Nice place, you get served food and drinks while you are watching the movie. Saw Mr and Mrs. Smith. It was not as bad as I thought it was going to be; actually, it was okay. Had a vanilla almond martini; very yummy. But the potato skins are weighing me down at the moment. Kind of defeats the purpose of having a lean cuisine for dinner.

The Negotiator

How do I always seem to find myself in the middle of things? At work, for instance, I do an administrative job without actual admin status (or pay, but that's a whole other bitch session). Even my superintendent admits to the difficulty of the position, referring to it as the de-militarized zone. Demilitarized, my ass. I tend to get caught between the needs of the teachers and the demands of the principals, and in my district the two factions are often at war with each other. In the midst of this, I'm just trying to get the job done, dragging the district kicking and clawing into the present century.
Meanwhile...I'm on my condo association board, and the past few days have also found me stuck in the middle of a situation involving a leaky pipe, an irate (flooded) tenant, a useless general contractor, and a bunch of other tenants who would very much like the main cold water line turned back on so they can flush their toilets, please...
I think that if I ever get tired of what I do now I should look into a career as a negotiator.

observations, questions

R makes a better chocolate martini than she gives herself credit for.

So if the unthinkable happened, and B wanted me back, what would I do? I would want to know why. What changed? Meanwhile, she'll go back to her old haunts, looking for that perfect guy to walk through the door, but if it didn't happen yet, why would it happen now? In the end, would I give it another try? Sure, but it's easy to say that when I'm certain that it will never happen.

Am I burning myself out from the inside? How much intensity do I keep in check, and will it eat me away? Is that my curse, Nightoak? A fire that brings people close for warmth, and eventually scalds them?

Maybe I just need things to break so that I can fix them.

Laundry List

Lately...
Went to the Body Worlds exhibit yesterday. Enlightening, creepy, very much worth seeing.
Ate out at Uno's. I had no idea that they had so many locations throughout the country. I drank my first mojito, but M swears that it wasn't authentic (since it lacked mint sprigs), so now I'll just have to learn how to make them.
Tuesday night dinner featured grilled chicken and the best plantains I have ever had. Rick recommended this bio of Philip K. Dick. John and Jenny should now be boarding a plane to Seattle (or thereabouts; can't recall where they are starting their northwest tour). Alas, the submarine squid tour that John promised her is a myth.

So, I have three days left at work, and then begins the stretch of time when I'll have empty days and lots of personal rebuilding to do. Projects to finish around here, a couple beginner's piano books to slog through, Spanish tutorials to be bewildered by. But that is just the tip of the gradually melting iceberg.

You should have known me then...

Finished reading The Time Traveler's Wife (author: Audrey Niffenegger) this weekend. I started on it kind of slowly, but the more I read the less I wanted to put it down. I suppose it doesn't tackle any themes that haven't been dealt with before, but the way issues of love and loss are approached through the device of Henry the time traveler offers an interesting perspective. Also, there is a lot of Chicago in this book, so anyone who knows the city a little can have fun following the characters around while actually being able to visualize the places mentioned. Rating (using the poker hand scale): straight flush.

My baby done left me

I never knew you could dance to the blues. And then I remembered: you don't play the blues to stay in the emotional gutter of lost love, you play it to cleanse your soul, to vanquish your demons, to reaffirm that you are standing on solid ground in the midst of the storm.
First visit to a blues club in Chicago; what the hell took me so long? Saw Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials, on an evening with my sister and her friend in town for a long weekend; part of the impetus for all of this was to give her friend a piece of the Chicago experience.
Funny, sometimes, how you can live in or near a place for so long and still miss out on so many things that make it real, make it breathe, and give the city a soul. Now that I have some time on my hands, I think I'll have to do this kind of thing more often. Because whenever you go looking for meaning externally, it is nearly inevitable that you look inward as well.
Anyway, B.L.U.E.S is a hopping little joint; smaller than I expected. The crowd moved in and out like a bell curve, peaking at about 1:00 a.m. We were there early enough to score a good table, and watch for M's friends while taking in the crowd, a lot of whom seemed like regulars given the way they bantered with the staff, performers, and each other. But the atmosphere was friendly; I've been to places like that, where there is a core group and you feel like you are stepping into someone else's territory, where they eye you warily and you start to get a bit self-conscious; what are the rules here, what is the culture? So yeah, it was a good night.

The pain we attach to places

Chicago, by Sufjan Stevens

I fell in love again
All things go, all things go
Drove to Chicago
All things know, all things know
We sold our clothes to the state
I don't mind, I don't mind
I made a lot of mistakes
In my mind, in my mind

You came to take us
All things go, all things go
To recreate us
All things grow, all things grow
We had our minds set
All things know, all things know
You had to find it
All things go, all things go

I drove to New York
In a van, with my friend
We slept in parking lots
I don't mind, I don't mind
I was in love with the place
In my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
In my mind, in my mind

If I was crying,
In the van, with my friend
It was for freedom
From myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes

Lassie! Bruce fell down the well!

Out with Tom and Mike and Steve to see Batman Begins.
It was detailed. And long. And it was dark, yes, but lacked gravity. It had little touches of humor, as an afterthought. Many good ideas, some of which were played out while others were left to decay. I don't know; an interesting notion, but where do you go with the franchise now?

The Five Stages of Grief

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
What do you mean my favorite sandwich is no longer on the menu?
Why the hell not?
Look, talk to the guy in the kitchen, maybe they can make it anyway?
Damn. That was my favorite sandwich.
Fine, I'll have the Philly instead.

Red Schoolhouse

Photos from the Little Red Schoolhouse nature center.
Series 1
Series 2
Series 3




It's a good place for me to clear my head. Even though it holds certain memories, sometimes revisiting a scene and making it your own again is therapeutic.

Change Forces

All those articles, talk shows, etcetera that talk about what women want in a man, they all leave out one of the most important parts. Sure, you can be sensitive, fatherly, confident, a good listener, and emotionally open; but when you get into a new relationship, you need to figure out if that is what is expected of you. Does she want someone completely different, or does she want to try taking the same guy she's been dating for years and be the one to change him into that ideal man? I mean, look at the bragging rights amongst her friends: "He was okay when I met him, but look at him now. See how much he loves me, see how much I have gotten him to change?" This notion of men as fixers may reflect reality in a physical sense, but in the mental realm it is the women who want to do the fixing. Show up as a polished gem instead of rough quartz, and what she'll see in the reflection is how little work there is to be done, how little she can take credit for. So even if you have those much lauded qualities, they have to be hidden, at least for a while.
Yes, I'm bitter, and this all sounds like absolute shite. I shouldn't base a thesis on one awful experience. But what is a guy to do? You work so hard to reach this popular ideal only to have it thrown back in your face. Give your heart to someone only to see it put in a jar of formaldehyde, placed on the kitchen counter, and be told "Okay, I'm done with you now."

I was stubborn for a long time, and resistant to change. The women in my life have been trying to change me into this person for a long time; it's a bad trade, really, as others have done all the hard work and now someone else will get the benefit of that. I suppose that is how it usually works, though.

Storytime: California Chasm

Tell me a story.

Okay. Northern California coastline. A cliff, about 200 yards above the shore. I am walking along the edge, and there is an outcropping, shaped in such a way that there appears to be a path cut into it. I cannot resist a path. So I walk it, to a section a little higher, like some random boulder just sitting up there. There is a gap, but I can reach across it. The boulder has worn away enough so that I can get a foothold, and I pull myself across the gap and on top of it.
I sit up there for a while, take a few pictures, have a smoke, and just look at the ocean. I wish there was someone there to share it with, but at the same time I am content.
After a while, I am ready to move along. I turn around and look at the path. It seems to have moved away. And now the gap I stepped over a short while ago looks like a chasm into which I am doomed to fall.
I think, maybe I can just jump it. But I worry I'll land wrong and slide off the path, down to the rocks below. I decide to ease myself down backwards and try to step back over. The camera is around my neck, sunglasses in my pocket. As I bend down, the sunglasses slip out, but I am still stretched over the boulder so they don't go far. I snatch them up and put them on; meanwhile, the camera dangles and scrapes against the rock.
I reach a foot out, looking for something solid, and as I am about to start panicking, I find the ground. I shift as much weight as possible to the landed leg and push myself back off of the boulder.
The path is gravelly, and I slip a little, but then regain my footing.
I stand there for a moment, waiting for my breathing to return to normal. Slowly, I walk back to the rented convertible, get in, and turn the key halfway. I dig through my CDs...put in Telepopmusik, start up the car, and I'm gone from that place.

I'm Still Here

Radiohead, Talk Show Host excerpts.

I want to
I want to be someone else or I'll explode

You want me?
Fucking well come and find me
I'll be waiting

You want me?
Well come on and break the door down
You want me?
Fucking come on and break the door down
I'm ready

Psychic Poetry

Looking at some of the poems I wrote in the days before things ended with B, I am a little surprised at how prescient they were. But then, I continue to spit out my awful blank verse odes specifically to capture certain moments in my life. To remember when I felt like the world was beautiful, or, more often, to tap into whatever was troubling my mind at the time. The best poetry exists to make sense of the world; that is beyond my scope, though, so I try simply to make some sense of the moment.
M and R understood why I needed to write, even if they couldn't always figure out what the hell I was trying to say. Sometimes I don't know what I'm trying to say, I just start typing and see what happens. I never edit, never go back and change anything. This is why I will probably never write a novel.

Once I Loved Someone Like You

Only Love Can Set you Free, by American Music Club.

You say that weakness is only
a way to give your heart to the enemy
but if the blow that knocks you out
is the one you don’t see
then why are you fighting?

Listen: before you lose the ocean from your tears,
before your face is carved out of stone
before they finally force you to your knees -
only love can set you free.

You were no civilian, you fought every war
and now you don’t wanna fear your heart anymore
Now you only do what's good, because you're good
Now you only do what you should, because you're good

Listen: it takes a baby years to know
what’s gonna make it stop crying
that what it wants isn't hard to see -
only love can set you free.

I’ve been so lucky

Now I'm just a normal man, that’s true
And I got nothing to brag about, or yes I do
that once I was loved by someone like you
that once I loved someone like you

Listen: what you find when you lose your way
are gunshot signs on a haunted sky
that only point you to a crowded mystery -
only love can set you free.

I've been so lucky

Framed

I used the walmart website to submit some digital photos for developing. I wasn't in any hurry, so it was convenient to do so. The service wasn't all that great; they neglected to send me an e-mail letting me know that the photos were in the store, ready to be picked up. But, the pictures themselves turned out well.
The photos were from various outings with B.; Michigan, Galena, and Little Red Schoolhouse. There were a few prints I had promised her before the shit hit the proverbial fan.
I try to keep my promises. I suppose I fail too, often enough, but not so often that I stop myself from making any.
I went slightly overboard, though. I picked up some frames for a couple of the photos (for her). Why bother? Why incur the withering response when she gets them? Why invite more conflict? Why not? They came out well, so much so that they deserve frames.
Maybe on some level I'm tired of doing things half right.
And maybe I just want to rub it in her face a little. Am I that bitter? Yes. Toss me out with the trash and I'm motivated to find a way to come out smelling like a rose. Knock me down enough and when you're not expecting it I'll charm you. Sometimes guile and sincerity are the same thing, it all depends on your audience.

Monsoons

Two hot, humid days. Two consecutive monsoons in late afternoon. Probably not so fun to be caught in, but lovely to watch.

!vOrTeX! 06.05

The June vortex cd has arrived. It foretells the uprising of the sandwich king. It collapses time and space into a tasty snack. It can slice off your finger if handled clumsily. It may have irreversible gingivitis. It will take your soul and slam it against the leg of a table in a way that makes you hop around for 5 minutes cursing. It goes from God to Gorillaz in two moves, with Jesus in-between. You cannot resist its gravitational pull. It is sponsored by the Smirnoff distillery. To reveal anything else would require your immediate termination.

Not Drowning, Waving

If you suspect you have some sort of deep psychological issue, but you know about it, doesn't that mean you should be able to control it?
Or can you only go so far as to step outside of yourself, understand why you are doing what you are doing, yet still lack the ability to change your actions?
My deepest fear is abandonment. I don't have nightmares about it or anything, but I understand how it has held me back over the years. I see how the fear of being suddenly alone has stopped me from taking risks, or trying to change situations. I still don't deal with it well, alternating between calm acceptance and the thrashing of a drowning man.
B. left, and for a while I was drowning. Luckily, enough of my friends were around to keep me from worrying that I would go under for good. It wasn't until I started to understand why I was tossed overboard that I could begin to calm down, and start swimming to shore.
Sometimes I feel like we spend half of our lives figuring out why we are screwed up, and the other half trying to fix it. And maybe that's okay, so long as we take a break once in a while to just soak in the world. To revel in an orange pink sunset after a hazy humid day, or to enjoy the taste of vanilla flavored vodka and orange juice. Every problem may not have a solution, but there are always answers.

Say Yes

Elliott Smith:

we broke up a month ago and i grew up i didn't know
i'd be around the morning after
it's always been wait and see
a happy day and then you pay
and feel like shit the morning after
but now i feel changed around and instead of falling down
i'm standing up the morning after
situations get fucked up and turned around sooner or later
i could be another fool or an exception to the rule
you tell me the morning after
crooked spin can't come to rest
i'm damaged bad at best
she'll decide what she wants
i'll probably be the last to know
no one says until it shows see how it is
they want you or they don't
say yes

My universe expands even as it contracts, and that is why it will never come to rest. Today hasn't been easy, but I'll get through it. What other choice is there?

Conflict and Foosball

Yesterday, ran into R. at the liquor store. Could have avoided it; saw her car out in the lot, but what would be the point of that? Spend your life avoiding potential conflict, what does that get you? Less hurt, in that moment, but it makes you stagnant over time. I'm happy that I realized that before I was too old for it to make a real difference in my life.

Attended Tuesday Night Dinner for the first time in what seems like eons, at chez Chrid. Nice, big place up in the city. Jerk chicken was the main course; spicy! But really tasty. Over the course of the evening, learned that I am an absolutely awful foosball player. Oh, well. Guess I'll stick with air hockey; less multi-tasking involved. Anyway, it was nice to walk into a room full of people I hadn't seen in so long and feel so welcome. I'll have to try and make it out next week, get back into the pattern.

The more I think about the B. debacle, the more I just shake my head in disbelief. What she could have had, what she is willing to settle for. She is sabotaging herself and her future.

Irony

Always starting over. Constantly rebuilding.
I was too emotionally open. Too willing to share every little thing, perhaps even too enthusiastic about the future. Smothering, not "rough" enough. I was a place she had not been, and where she did not want to go. And somehow these things outweighed all of my other qualities, not at first, but over time.
The bitter irony is that the exact opposite of these traits used to be one of the primary complaints against me by various women in my life.
Do I laugh about this? Do I revert back?
But I believe in change. I would hate to think that I'm the same now as I was five years ago. I would like to think that I'm a better person.
Even so, I cannot help but think that fate is mocking me at least a little.

Home

"He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found in the end, or if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough."
(from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman).

My old house is up on the market. And this makes me sad.

Finally had a real conversation with B. Cleared things up a little, though I still think she is denying herself a chance at real happiness. But that is her choice. Just as I have made such choices in the past. And maybe she will regret it, and maybe she won't. But I think now I may have something resembling closure. Not quite, but perhaps enough to move on.

For some reason, I pulled out some of the first CDs I ever bought to listen to this evening. House of Love and Moev (rhymes with stove). Perhaps I need to rebuild myself from some point. Go into my past and fast forward to now, so that I can continue unimpeded on this journey in life.

I am incredibly sad and hopeful at the same time. I've felt this before, but never with such strength. One moment, I know exactly what I must do, and the next, I am floundering.

And I must say that the Wente Riesling is quite tasty and goes to the head quickly on a near empty stomach. Yes. And I am almost out of Krupnikas. A shame, that is.

Wraith Pinned to the Mist

Of Montreal:

Maybe I’ll never die
I’ll just keep growing younger with you
And you’ll grow younger too
now it seems too lovely to be true
but I know the best things always do

Random Rain

As quickly as it arrived, it was gone; a seemingly random thunderstorm breaking through the soft breezes and sunlight of the day.
An hour earlier, I had arrived home after playing softball, pink armed but not burnt (for a change), and already four beers into the day.
So the rain came, and I decided to soundtrack it, playing a little Dylan, and a little Suede Chain, and it's little moments like that that keep me sane.