In the first half of this episode we discussed how life can be wonderful because of its flaws and how memory sweetens even the most painful experiences to make that possible.
But life does not have to be all pain and suffering only to be enjoyed on the porch of irony whilst drinking the bitter Kool-aid of Nihilism. What about the wonderful moments? What about those perfect days?
The song is 'Strawberry Swing' by Coldplay. Released as a single September 2009, it comes from the Album 'Viva La Vida or Death and All his Friends'. An album I consider to be one of the greatest ever made. The song itself is a four minute daydream. Normally I don't include the music video but this one is just too good to pass up. It perfectly captures the gentle whimsy of a lovely thought.
It is a profoundly different take on memory than in part one's discussion of Old Apartment. There, the narrative came from noticing changes in walls, items left behind in the old apartment. The specific details within the song brought forth memories and narrative which in turn gave meaning. And from that meaning came the feelings of pain and regret and even hope.
The narrative in Strawberry Swing reverses this process. Here detail isn't king, it isn't even important. Chris Martin's telling or memory is vague in detail with only a few fleeting specifics which are themselves are either vaguely or entirely disconnected. What does stretch between them is a feeling. A calm feeling. A peaceful feeling. Pure happiness. This feeling generates a search for the meaning. "I feel good, but why?" Something good must have happened. And in that search we stumble upon the vague details within. Vague but beautiful.
I had an experience much like the one outlined in above. I drove by my childhood home in the snow this evening. A wonderful feeling had slipped into my mind. Why? I was in a good place. A place where I was innocent and life was simple. Though the size of the world has shrunk and the trees are much larger, there is still snow on the lawns and Christmas lights on the roofs. The memories still live there. I remembered the drive home from my Grandparents' house Christmas Eve. Racing out of the car inside because that would somehow make the morning come sooner. Only bits and pieces of full memories. But they are good. And life was and is good. It's important to let the memories flood back. Thanks to Coldplay for helping us do that.
I just moved apartments. Some friends came by early Saturday morning to help me move only to be repaid by my disappointing attempt at making quiche. We moved my stuff down the narrow stairways onto the street where it was divided into junk and belongings. The junk would remain on the street and belongings were loaded into a friends's Explorer. Amidst the systematic emptying of the apartment I stopped for a moment. I had never seen all of my earthly possessions in one place, all bagged and boxed up. In that moment it was easy to see it all as junk.
I cam back later to do a final cleaning. The old wood floor had long been hidden by a lovely "Persian" rug that nearly covered every inch of the floor. Its deep maroon with yellow trimmings warmed the apartment like a blanket. But now with the rug packed away in the car, it was just me and the floor. I scrubbed it in one long awkward silence. We tried to avoid eye-contact, me and the floor. Neither wanting to acknowledge the fact that this would be the first and last deep-clean attention it would ever get from me. I don't know if feeling intensely strong emotions toward inanimate objects is common but I felt a strong sense of regret for neglecting that floor
Through my guilt I noticed how worn and warped the floor actually was. Its color was closer to camouflage than uniform and the entirety of the main room bowed down so that round objects gathered at the center. It had been well abused through the years. Enough so that it had definitively earned the requisite wear and tear to earn 'pre-war brownstone' status. And now, despite how much I scrubbed, I didn't have enough time to make amends with the neglected floor.
By the same toke, no matter how much I had tried over those two years, I couldn't make my beloved rug sit flat on a concave floor. And yet, I loved that rug (as much as any adult male can love a rug I guess. It made the apartment a home. That loved developed over the past two years of living alone. I abused that floor and rug. I had worn down a select stretch in my uptight pacing back and forth during stressful phone calls. Another spot, the corner near the front door was reserved for sold single blows. These came either from jumping up and down in excitement for the weekend or angry blows like Charlton Heston on the beach in Planet of the Apes when my boss gave me work to do at 11:00pm on a Sunday. And the spot near the window. It was a perch to sit and watch 37th Street. My relationship with that rug and floor was complex as are the memories of those two years living there.
So how should I look back on that period of life? As it was? As I wished it had been? Or some other way? For Episode 8, we have two songs in two parts, both focused on memory.
The first song is 'Old Apartment' by Bare Naked Ladies. Released as a single in April of 1997, this song comes from the wonderfully named LP, 'Born on a Pirate Ship'. And if you want to understand just how fundamental this band is, please follow this link.
Aptly named song eh? Couldn't have planned that any better. Then again, I would have preferred to save my luck as to run into Jerry Seinfeld instead of his slightly shorter Doppelgänger on the E train last week.
So instead of me breaking down line by line, just read along as you listen and see what you think. Just be sure to not miss the two bolded lines. Catch up with you in a sec.
Broke into the old apartment
This is where we used to live
Broken Glass
Broke and hungry
Broken hearts and broken bones
This is where we used to live
Why did you paint the walls?
Why did you clean the floors?
Why did you plaster over
the hole I punched in the door?
This is where we used to live
Why did you keep the mousetrap?
Why did you keep the dish rack?
These things used to be mine
I guess they still are. I want them back.
Broke into the old apartment.
42 steps from the street
Crooked landing
Crooked landlord
Narrow laneway filled with crooks
This is where we used to live
Why did they pave the lawn?
Why did they change the lock?
Why did I have to break in?
I only came here to talk
This is where we used to live
How is the neighbor downstairs?
How is her temper this year?
I turned up your TV
And stomped on the floor just for fun
I know we don't live here anymore
We bought and old house on the Danforth
She loves me and her body keeps me warm I'm happy here
Broke into the old apartment
Tore the phone out of the wall
Only memories, fading memories
Blending into the tableau I want them back
I want them back (This is where we used to live)
I want them back (This is where we used to live)
I want them back (This is where we used to live)
I want them back
So what did you think? Notice how the facts come from memory and questions from the present? It's a genius way to show how our memory forms our understanding of the world around us but when it is wrong it can disorient and confuse.
And for the longest time I thought his song was going over my head. How can he be happy if he wants the memories back? Breaking and entering into the past doesn't sound like someone who has moved on.
It doesn't because he hasn't. He wants the memories back for the same reason we all do: they belong to us. Be they bad, good, pathetic or strange, our experiences are our own. And like metaphorical bricks, we carry the memories around, hoping one day to be strong enough to construct a home from the collection.
But it takes time. Fortunately, time makes us stronger so pain becomes more palatable. By the grace of humor, memories that once made my skin crawl become just sweet enough to revisit. Peeing my pants in Kindergarten becomes funnier the longer I sit with my five year old self and laugh at how I convinced I was that no one had noticed. And as these memories age and ripen, we can feast on the comedy and lessons learned.
So what does Old Apartment mean to me? I think it means life can be beautiful because of its flaws. Just give it time.
And what does my old apartment mean to me? The floor was warped and damaged, but it still held me up.
On this day in 1804, Meriwether Lewis William Clark and their team, known as the Corps of Discovery, began their famous journey to explore territory acquired during the Louisiana Purchase. Departing from St. Louis, the expedition would last over two years and 7,000 miles and bring invaluable knowledge of the new territory to the expanding nation.
They discovered the Pacific Ocean by means of the Columbia River. This is the same body of water on which the city of Portland, Oregon sits. This leads me to two truths.
1. I am certain neither Lewis, Clark, nor Sacagawea knew what a Neo-Hippie is or what they would 'contribute' to society.
2. I am also certain that the team would often discuss the future the land they were exploring. With the understanding that the nation would grow, the team must have speculated that the nation would eventually need a place to put all the "interesting" people. And at that moment, floating down the Columbia River, Clark looked off to the river bank and said, "Maybe we can put all the weirdos there." And thus Portland was born and destiny was met. Long Live Portland the Weird.
If I'm being honest with myself, which I rarely am, I'm pretty sure I live my life as if the deep seeded dream of being famous will someday manifest itself in one gigantic Truman Show reveal, and I'm the star.
This would also help explain a few things. Like, despite how hard I look, there seems to be no evidence that anyone still listens to Dave Matthews Band - The writing team just couldn't get past Satellite. Or why Hollywood can't do anything but remake versions of movies that are of the, "sure, I saw once as a kid. And sure it was pretty good but why are we doing this again?" Variety (I'm looking at you Jumanji). Simple answer: they are busy enough trying to complete the screenplay of my life. There isn't enough time to write a movie within a movie.
Yet, despite the joys of imagining that I really am the most important thing happening in the world around me, a single fear is growing. A fear that sweeps that sweet daydream aside to make room for another fictitious reality where that perception of myself is an ill formed construct, incorrectly projected onto a simulated world, the subject of which is a more beautifully chiseled literary cliche destined for clean cut character development all within a series of predictable conflicts and 70 second montages and I, in fact, am not the star of the show. A world where I turn out to be a side character in my own movie. And that, Mom and Dad, is why I have so many self-confidence workbooks.
All I know is that every time I listen to "Friday I'm in Love" by the Cure, as I walk around Mid-Town, I'm pretty sure I'm going to run into Kate Hudson's Character. But now, instead of her meeting "Mr. Right", I'm pretty sure our chance encounter is where I'm going to get friend-zoned with all the awkward discomfort of a Michael Cera character. Rot in Hell, Kate Hudson. Rot in Hell.
I've been reading a lot of Malcom Gladwell lately. The focus has been to study how 100,000 hour rule allows mavens to make snap judgements on Biblical warfare (high-five if you got that). Admittedly, I'm only a third of the way through 'The Tipping Point', but it is wonderful. The main idea is the comparison of social and idealogical epidemics with their medical counterparts and the driving forces behind. The stories have been very insightful. So much so that I've started to look for such 'epidemics' in personal experiences. And since I process most of existence through movie references and left-over teen-angst, a single music centered story jumped to mind. I was exposed to many songs as a child, but this one in particular would hide away in my mind like a virus, waiting for the perfect time to burst into sound and create a singularly fantastic musical 'epidemic' in my life.
Remember NOW? That sampler CD they advertised inbetween chia-pet commercials on daytime television? As of writing this we are up to "Now That's What I call Music 66", VERSION 66! [Note: this does not even include Christmas or Summer specials]. It began as a legitimate music sampler full of a fun variety of the day's catchiest tunes. Yet, time and revenue have perpetuated this series into a meta joke which is on course to fold ironically in on itself, collapsing all media matter until the layers are so compact that the space time continuum breaks and we fall into the 'darkest timeline' episode of 'Community'. But there was a simpler time. The year was 1998, and mom had just returned from an evening shopping trip. I was (and am) your typical pudgy little second grader who was cheerful and punctual in helping my mother bring in the groceries. But before the engine was shut off, my mom opened the car door to play a song over the car stereo. It was awesome! It was a catchy rock and roll jam with a bluesy southwest feel to it. We sat and enjoyed a few plays then she ejected the CD and put it into its case. The cover read "NOW That's What I Call Music!" No number mind you - She bought the very first NOW CD. It was great. It often became the unofficial reason for car-rides in the family. We only listened to 3 or so songs (you need to remember - unless you burned it yourself, rarely was there a disk you listened to completely). But with time the CD fell out of favor, out of sight and out of memory. Yet, that first track remained deep in the back of my mind.
Fast forward eight years. Like a comic book super villain, the sophomore version of me had fallen into the toxic waste vat known as High School (Filled with 48% puberty, 50% Social Pressure and 2% drivers ed) and began my transformation into a discolored mess. Music too was in a strange and wondrous place, living out the twighlight years of the late 1990's early 2000's Rock and Roll Renaissance. Remember, both American Idiot was released and Nickelback came into existence in this era - the best and worst of times. Blink 182 had broken up a few years earlier and many other bands were following suit. I needed something new to hold onto. That is when the 'NOW Virus' burst into life. It began like a small infection, making its way onto a few mixtapes. Slowly, it would grow and consume my life from late Winter to Summer of 2006.
The song that started it all is "The Way" by Americana alt rockers Fastball. Originally released February 24, 1998, "The Way" was a hit single off of their second studio album "All the Pain Money Can Buy". Give it a listen.
Fantastic, but this episode isn't so much about the song itself, which mind you deserves an analysis episode all its own, but more what the song did. The bluesy Americana sound bridged the Gap between the Alt/Punk Scene I had embraced as a teenager and the Classic Rock sound that I was raised on. It seemlessly meshed the two together and sometimes even threw in a harmonica solo just for fun. It unleashed the Virus that had been dormant deep inside the mind of that pudgy child now covered in acne. I was hungry for more.
[Note: The official/sciency name of the much loved virus is 'Late 90's Rock and Roll Exerovivrus (L9-RR)'. Other names have arisen like the 'Fastball Contageon'. But for simplicity most texts, including this, refer to it simply as the NOW Virus]
While the effects are still very potent, exact dates and events are not exactly known and hotly debated to this day. Scientists have done their best to retrace the movement of the NOW Virus to provide a more comprehensive understanding of how the music spread during the epidemic in the timeline below.
[Note: All songs can be found on the Spotify playlist called 'The NOW Virus']
Contraction: Spring 1998-
An 8 years old helping mom and younger brother with the groceries. Minor effects would be felt over the ensuing months but no lasting symptoms would hold. No further traces of the NOW Virus would be felt for roughly eight years.
Patient Zero: January 3 - 18, 2006 - The Way reemerges
After a period of music starvation the NOW Virus bursts into life, appearing in late December. Christmas break is consumed by 'The Way' on repeat. Many an IPod headphone was shared to show friends the song. I remember specifically rolling up to a Jamba Juice with the song on full volume thinking I was the coolest kid on the chess team.
Patient Zero Plus 1: January 18 - Mid February - The rest of Fastball is assimilated
Other songs from Fastball begin appearing on mixed CDs in the car. This list includes 'Out of My Head' which my brother eventually learned to play on the piano and I pretended to accompany him on the bass. This song also is an honorary member of the "Made Me Cry in Public for No Reason" club.
Patient Zero Plus 14: Mid to Late February - Semisonic becomes infected
'Closing Time' by Semisonic appears up next on iTunes Recommended purchase. After 42 listens of the 30 second sample I did them one better by driving to the mall and purchasing their greatest hits CD - worth all nineteen dollars and sixty nine cents (not accounting for gas money). 'Singing in My Sleep' and 'Chemistry' are two notable tracks worth a listen.
Patient Zero Plus 67: Late February to Early March - The One Hit Wonders
Examples like the Wallflowers' 'One Headlight', Sister Hazel's 'All for You' and Blues Traveler's 'Run Around' are the most notable from this phase. Little else is known about this era other than it included a lot of happy jams that make you bust a little move in the produce aisle (don't worry, you'll hear a lot of these songs playing at your local grocer). [Note: If you can identify a song by Toad the Wet Sprocket from the first 3 notes, you are currently in this phase]
Patient Zero Plus 189: March and April - No Rain on repeat
Just one long loop. It even played while I was asleep. Almost dropped my iPod in the tub too. Worth the risk of a fantastic bath. This Blind Melon jam is wonderful. So much so that I included a link specifically for it here. This is also the stage where I strongly considered wearing more tie-dye in public.
Patient Zero Plus 535: May - July 4th 2006 Collective Soul and Critical Mass
Collective Soul becomes infected. This is particularly alarming because the sound is related to so many others. It is considered a strong music connector and behaves much like Fastball had in perpetuating the NOW Virus exponentially (Thanks Mr. Gladwell). From here, it is an easy transition to many different directions like:
1. Start listening to R.E.M. and you've started toward more innovative sounds like Radiohead and the Pixies
2. Start listening to Everclear which is a straight shot to post-punk, post-grunge and the power pop of Eve 6, Smashing Pumpkins and SR-71
3. Start listening to Gin Blossoms and then...stop listening to the Gin Blossoms
4. Start listening to the Goo Goo Dolls and you're halfway to the grandeur of U2 or the less-grand grandeur of Third Eye Blind and Five for Fighting.
Dig far enough and you'll find Matchbox 20, Sugar Ray, Barenaked Ladies (one of the most celebrated Canadian Alt Rock acts of the Mid 90's - suck it Jeff Winger) and other wonderfully forgotten tunes. But this path is not sustainable. Sadly, the mass of so much music will not sustain itself. Eventually the Virus will implode, dissolving and fading into a landscape encased in a slick white plastic box adorned with a scroll wheel that went everywhere with me (granted it was charged). [Note: The exact date is documented as July 4th serves as a pallet cleanser where I only listen to patriotic music and reevaluate many life choices].
What started from a single track on a forgotten sampler became the driving force in my life for the better part of a year. I owe you one, Fastball. It was a wild ride that can best be summarized by a line from one of your very songs,
"You're an Ocean. It's a stormy sea of love and devotion. You've got me suspended motionless in time."
Other epidemic starters include: Coldplay's 'Clocks', Lupe Fiasco's 'Superstar', and The Doors' 'Riders on the Storm'.
How about you? Did I miss any 90's alt goodies? Have a song or artist that caused a 'Music Epidemic' of your own? Share it below...or with people you know and love...whatever works, I'd love to hear about them. Maybe this could start its own Epidemic.
[Note: For some reason I'm really in the mood to watch 'A Walk to Remember']
On this day in 1564, William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-on-Avon (at least as tradition states). During his lifetime Shakespeare would create a singular portfolio of work which not only solidify the English Language as a literary medium but the foundation for Western Story Telling. The effects of which are seen throughout the modern world. I sincerely doubt there isn't High School student who has not read the sparknotes for at least one of his works. I admit to being one of them. Despite an immense respect and reverence for his work, I have scarcely understood anything. And it leaves me with the question:
Has the fool made a greater blunder in trying yet not understanding and denying the ignorance?
Or
For not attempting and glorying in his ignorance?
While it is beyond me to answer, it does remind me of his great Twelfth Night quote:
"Foolery, Sir, does walk around the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere."
Twelfth Night - Act 3, Scene 1, Page 3
Ignorance is bliss, and stupid seems to shine out everywhere. So to all my fellow idiots out there, I'll quote another literary great that I too fail to understand: Pink Floyd -
During the wedding I referenced in the latest edition of the Wednesday Worrier, I was talking to a friend when we realized we had separately come to a eerily similar conclusion. That conclusion being: we "felt like the pistachio ice-cream of the flavor wheel." Odd in coincidence and in...well its is a weird thought to begin with. But remember Pistachio Ice-cream? You vaguely remember enjoying it that one time two summers ago when you mistook it for mint chip. Yet, not enough that it would ever choose it before any other flavor...except for maybe that try colored 'superman' because that is just a filthy flavor. If we lost you in the ice-cream metaphor, maybe this will help:
We both felt like the human equivalent of the phrase, "eh...you'll do."
But don't be sad, don't pity me, and certainly don't cry for me Argentina (those guys have enough to worry about with the World Cup coming up). That's what you get when you spend your days not working out, watching youtube and talking people trying to convince them that you are a misunderstood genius by using phrases like ...'post post-modern world'. I've destroyed the confidence formerly held by those most dearest to me, and now it is time to embrace failure. Which is why I'm introducing this new segment to provide tips to those who are curious about letting their lives get away from them but don't exactly know how to start down the path.
Tip 1: Embrace the Snooze.
The snooze button. We all use it. We all abuse it. We ruin our mornings in the process. And if you want to see your life sink faster than the Lusitania (too soon?) don't stop using it! Rookies often fall into the fallacy of thinking that simply not setting an alarm will provide the same effect. This is not so. Waking to your body's natural sleep cycle will allow to arise rested and refreshed. The purpose of the snooze button is NOT to provide structure and schedule to the day, it is start the day with interrupted sleep and poor decision making. The snooze button delays responsibility and weakens discipline by demanding more rest. I recommend a 13 minute snooze button used at least 6 times every morning at least. If that is too much, start slow, use a 5 minute snooze twice and progress from there. Remember, the goal is to disrupt and delay your morning enough so that you leave the front door unprepared and wearing the same scowl you had when the alarm went off in the first place.
This has been tip 1. We hope to have more tips soon for you to help you on the path right back to your parent's basement. Please feel free to write in if you have any questions or ideas on how to more effectively use 'use the snooze'.
Thanks for the inspiration (friends who shall remain nameless)
