IDEAS ABOUT ASKING A GIRL ON A DATE

(I wrote this over 10 years ago in Twin Falls, Idaho)

“I’m sorry,” I said, though by my tone it was obvious that I wasn’t. “But I think you have beautiful eyes, and I was wondering if I could take you out sometime.”  I was spkeaing to the girl at the counter at my usual coffee spot, Java Joe’s. She waas one of four girls that shuffle through magazines behind the counter while waiting for customers to order grande mocha lattes with skim milk, or cappuccinos with extra foam blah blah blah!! She was the only one that wore a name tag. I liked that about her. It made her seem open, like she wasn’t hiding anything anywhere inside her. Her name was Melissa. I had noticed her weeks ago and even though I had been there everyday, our conversations were restricted by my cowardice to two subjects. My coffee order mainly, a latte plain and simple, but also to the music playing from the stereo to the speakers mounted in the ceiling. It was a relaxed environment and the highest ranking employee was privileged to choose the music while they were on duty. On more that one occasion she played Bob Dylan, a personal favorite and I would comment on her god taste. On this particular day she was playing Radiohead which proved to me that she was well worth the risk of rejection. I longed to know her thoughts and to hear her ideas about literature and film and art. I wanted to know her desires and what about her made me desire her touch and her voice. So I asked. Her reply was short and gentle but very firm. She was in the process of breaking up with some guy and and needed some downtime. She offered to take my number and said she would call me if she felt like having dinner with me at another time. So for the sake of being polite I obliged. I appreciated the gesture, but I knew she would never call. 

I inhaled deeply the disappointment and resolved that the day would go on and so would I. I turned from the counter letting the warmth from my freshly made latte comfort me. I sat at the only table left and arranged the contents of my messenger bag as if figuring out a puzzle with no clear idea of how it should look once completed. But that was merely a distraction from the huge gash in my self confidence Melissa had just opened with the knife of her rejection, and the dull pain that resulted. I finished my coffee, packed my bag and left. On my way out the door she called a goodbye and I mustered a wave. I climbed into my car and started it, sitting for a moment. Bob Dylan was on the radio. I turned it off and as I drove away I decided I better find another place to get my lattes.

IDEAS ABOUT LOS ANGELES

Los Angeles is a city of contradictions. It seems to be made of dreams and sunshine. Sparkly and bright with a fountain on every corner, but we are in the midst of historic drought and it is literally one of the dirtiest places I have ever been and I grew up on a farm. It seems laid back and leisurely like no one is in a hurry, until you get onto a freeway and find out how much someone will risk of their own safety and the safety of nearby motorists to save 3 seconds of time exiting the 405 onto Venice Blvd. It has a glamour that is literally only skin deep. Publicists and social media managers and endless amounts of money spent on “beauty” and “diet” can only put a sheen on the reality that everyone and everything here is real and will inevitably fall apart. It is flush with cash and populated by the uber rich and people desperate to prove that money can buy happiness but I live near Beverly Hills and I can say without a doubt that that is not true. It can make you extremely comfortable, and it can make you more attractive and it will give you more opportunities but it cannot make you happy. If you cannot be happy with nothing you won’t be happy when you have everything. And there is the rub with LA. It is all just money and glamour and all of these things that look like happiness on paper but they can’t make you grateful or kind and they definitely can’t replace the love of family and friends. This city is expensive and frustrating and dirty and if you dig down one millimeter into its past it could easily be considered nothing more than the place where an endless string of dream crushing episodes were repeated an incalculable number of times over the last century by people trying to be something no one will truly ever be. Immortal… But here I am, in the beating heart of this sun drenched slice of American pie filled with organic apples and soaked in vodka.

IDEAS ABOUT MUSIC

I was a teenager in the 90’s. Music was different 20 years ago. It was the era of Spin Magazine, Goth and Industrial were exploding, Punk and Ska were hurdling back into the mainstream, Gangster Rap was at its most dangerous, and there was a brief but fun period where everyone was swing dancing. General mayhem when it came to music was the norm. It was a rogues gallery of artists who wanted to “fuck you like and animal” and “fuck the police” it seemed that there was a lot of fucking going on. There were just girls “living in captivity” and “semi-charmed” lives. While I may risk sounding like an old man that has crossed over in to thinking nostalgia is the same as quality when it comes to creative output, I think they had something that seems to be missing from music now. I genuinely think there is some amazing music out there and even though the top 40 pop hits seem to be the catchiest songs your’ve ever heard, it all seems manufactured and packaged to simply be a really catchy song. Commerce has crept in to the music industry as never before. The piracy wars of the early ot’s left music execs scrambling and they slowly began to erode the creativity and spontaneity of music. Even though bands like “Vampire Weekend” (who I love BTW) are excellent songwriters who can craft an album that might qualify as the most fun, raucous and enjoyable collection of songs from the last 5 years, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. It is almost visceral when I try to describe it, which may be the best clear indication that I am definitely an old man who longs for something that can only be had as a 16 year old listening to a song in a room brooding for hours. I will clumsily describe this lost element as passion. When I listen to Smells Like Teen Spirit or Ok Computer it feels deep. There is something in the souls and minds of the songwriters and musicians that rises up to reach out and grab that same thing from deep within me. It shakes me and when the song is over it stays with me. We as a society have devalued the musical process. We interact with it as if we are owed the efforts of those taking their time write and perform and record these songs for us. For every song in the world we now pay less per month than an entire album would have cost. For the price of 12 songs we now get millions, and while there is the benefit of greater exposure and easier access to lesser known acts etc... The cultural shift has caused us to treat musical output less as an artistic expression and more of a commodity. Execs are facilitating the creation of songs to appeal to the widest audience, which creates a lowest common denominator target. This isn’t to say that the audiences have gotten less intelligent they simply expect less from their music. They expect a rhythmic beat, simple coherent lyrics that are easy to memorize and a hook with a melody they can hum to themselves while they ride around town on their bikes. It exists in all forms and genres, and while there are bright spots it is much less the norm than when Janis Joplin called out “Cry Baby” until she was hoarse. When an artist can hit that note of making us not only bob our heads or bust out on the dance floor but truly and deeply feel something it is magical. Adele caused an entire generation to look at the Facebook profiles of whatever Ex got away and the runaway success of that song shows that a modern audience can experience that passion and connect with it. With the current state of the music biz it seems artists should be taking more risks and sharing a vulnerability that we can all relate to but it won’t happen until audiences are ready to give those artists the time and attention and plays and sales that make it worth their while. I realize fully that my perspective is skewed by my age status and my gross generalization about the history / state of the music industry. But spend 2 hours listening to top 40 radio and tell me how often you not only drum on your steering wheel or desk, but how many times you stop what you’re doing to reflect on what the artist is trying to tell you. Then go back to any top forty list from 1996 and do the same. If you don’t notice a difference in how you feel. Please say so in the comments section, or if any of the 5-9 people I expect to read this in the next 20 years know of any new artist that might prove me wrong, please let me know.  Good day!