Insta Insta Tortured Emo Punk Rock Points June 7, 2008
Posted by wes285 in Uncategorized.Tags: Bruce Wayne, Californication, Chris Carrabba, Elliott Smith, Emo, Hank Moody, Holden Caufield, Kurt Kobain, Pete Wentz, Punk Rock, Rivers Cuomo, Robert Downey Jr., Robert F. Kennedy, The Incredibly Hulk, Tortured Souls
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I’ve been getting an unusual amount of traffic onto a post I wrote almost a year ago. I reread it and its a pretty angsty post. I find it a little unsettling that you can pretty much predict my emotional state based on the time of year. Februarys can be rough on me because of certain things I’m reminded of. And, apparently Junes suck for me now. My shrink had some $10 word for my supposed chronic condition. I can’t decide if, like half of psychology, it’s complete bullshit. It could just be everyday highs and lows. Then again, the highs and the lows are probably more intense for me than the average person. I could have been an emo kid in high school. We’re talking Rivers Cuomo emo here, not Pete Wentz or Chris Carrabba.
My friend Melissa thinks I’m just a tortured soul. She says I should be happy about it, because tortured souls are sexy. RFK, Robert Downey, Jr., Elliott Smith, Kurt Kobain, Holden Caufield, the Incredible Hulk, Bruce Wayne. And, oh yeah, current favorite tortured soul Hank Moody (if you don’t already watch Californication, you need to get on that). The problem with tortured souls is they are completely and utterly spent. There is no emotional capital there for anything other than the internal turmoil. Also they’re all dead or drug addicts. Or both. And the really good ones, they’re all literary characters. Come on ladies, where are you? Tortured soul, come and get your tortured soul. Huh, I guess the emotional bankruptcy kind of cancels out the sexiness of a soul that’s tortured. Yeah, I don’t want to be that.
Prince is 50 today. He’s almost as old as my parents. What?
My parents are having their bathroom and closet redone, so all the rooms upstairs are sealed off with plastic to keep all the dust out. Before the renovation, my mom told me to go through my stuff to see if there was anything I needed before the work started. There probably are a few things up there that I will need, but oh well. I didn’t do a very thorough check. I did pull out my high school yearbooks. I looked through all the notes left by other people and marveled at the unbridled excitement and naivete about the future. Keep in touch this summer. Best friends forever. Going to school with you next year is going to be CRAZY!!!! PARTIES WOOO!!! All the requisite we’re gonna be friends forever stuff. Then, there was this:
Your two fingered salutes get you insta insta punk rock points.
A kid named Welch left that. I was probably only friends with him because he was good friends with one of my good friends. I guess I was pretty fond of the middle digits on either hand. And even more fond of using them at the same time. And it apparently gave me insta insta punk rock points. I wonder if my brown Dr Martens, jeans and polo shirt got me punk rock points.
Ray LaMontagne Made Me Go to Church November 18, 2007
Posted by wes285 in Music, Observations, Religion.Tags: Church, Elliott Smith, Norah Jones, Ray LaMontagne, Shrine of the Immaculate Conception
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Usually when I’m in a strange mood like I have been the past week, I like to sit in my room and just listen to music. Music has a certain intangible quality to it that just relaxes me. Let’s me drift away from the real world for a little bit and not have anything running through my head. A couple weeks back my roommate Meagan rediscovered my Ray LaMontagne Trouble disc on our way back from a winetasting. Well, actually, my friend Jeremy let me borrow it a year and a half ago as collateral while he searched for my Elliott Smith CD, which I still haven’t gotten back (If you don’t know who Ray LaMontagne is, think a little quicker paced male Norah Jones with a raspy voice, only better because, you know, he’s a man. I kid, I kid. But he is better). I listened to it for a month straight when I first got it, then went onto the next album and forgot that I had it until couple weeks ago. I highly suggest you give Ray a listen. But I digress…
As incredible as music can be. Locking myself in my room doesn’t always work. You can only drift away so far before you come falling back to everything going on around you. Also, I’m a fidgety person. Thumb twiddler. Can’t sit through a movie without changing my sitting position at least 10 times. I needed a change of scenery.
Catholic University is a five minute drive from my house. The Shrine of the Immaculate Conception is right next to Catholic University (the Catholic church’s answer to the Episcopalian National Cathedral?). It isn’t nearly as impressive and awe inspiring as the National Cathedral, but it is a beautiful piece of architecture. Plus, there aren’t nearly the number of tourists on a Saturday afternoon (read: it is much quieter). I sat in the near empty sanctuary for almost an hour clearing my head and not thinking about a single thing.
I’m not Catholic and I gave up going to church some time ago. I make it to church on Christmas, but I don’t think I’ve even been to Easter services the last couple years. Sitting in a church by myself is not something I do. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever done it before. I’m not sure what compelled me to even go. But there was something about sitting in that sanctuary that put me at peace, even if just for an hour. I don’t think just any church sanctuary would have done the trick. There was just something about this one. I can’t recall a single thing that happened in that one hour other than sitting there staring at, I don’t even know what. The world just kinded of passed me by. All of a sudden I noticed a grandmother kneeling down a few rows in front of me to say a prayer. It was time for me to go.
Maybe this was just a one time thing. Maybe it will become some sort of a semi-regular thing. Who knows. But for an hour everything was okay.
