Tidings of comfort and joy

~*~*~*~*~Merry Christmas!~*~*~*~*~

It's epiphany day.

When panic grips your body and your heart's a hummingbird,
Raven thoughts blacken your mind 'til you're breathing in reverse,
And all your friends and sedatives mean well but make it worse,
And every reassurance just magnifies the doubt,
Better find yourself a place to level out.

I never thought of running;
My feet just led the way.

Mixed up signals (moving out),
Bullet train (moving out),
Cars are switched out in the crazy rain.
I could meet you any place
If the Brakeman turns my way.

All this automatic writing I have tried to understand
From a psychedelic angel who was tugging on my hand,
It's an infinite coincidence but it doesn't form a plan.
So I'm headed for New England or the Paris of the South,
Gonna find myself somewhere to level out.

I tried to pass for nothing,
But my dreams gave me away.

Mixed up signals (moving out),
Bullet train (moving out),
People snuffed out in the brutal rain,
I could live to any age
If the Brakeman turns my way.

~Bright Eyes, "If the Brakeman Turns My Way," abridged.

Sleighbells ring...

Cambridge will have a white Christmas. On Thursday we had a major storm that left ten inches of beautiful snow all over the brick buildings and the spindly trees. It's almost time for winter break! I finished my last test for Origins of Agriculture on Friday, and the museum exhibit I was organizing for my China class is all set up (and looking fantastic if I do say so myself). I still have a short paper to do by Wednesday, but it's almost done. Unfortunately, I will have to spend Christmas break researching my two term papers, and I have a take-home final when I get back. At Yale I was used to having everything finished before Christmas, so this is kind of annoying, but at least it has made the last couple weeks much less painful than they would have been. In fact, on Yale's schedule I would probably not have been able to go to as many shows this month or do NaNoWriMo. That brings me to my other big project for break: finally digging out Bodies In Flight from its winner-sparkly coffin and EDITING the thing. I'm taking this weekend to get ahead on research so I can relax a little over break, but I did some Christmas shopping yesterday, which was nice. My own Christmas list is still being modified, as I continue to see things I want to own every time I shop for someone else.

I have recently discovered the most delightful webcomic, which I feel clueless for not knowing about earlier. Questionable Content has been running since 2003, and apparently the artist now makes his entire living off of it, which is very rare. It stars a group of twenty-something music geeks, including indie kid Marten and his adorable anthropomorphic computer who wreaks havoc on the side. It also takes place in Massachusetts. The art really was not especially good in the beginning, but now it is quite good and makes me wonder if the artist took classes or just tried harder as his strip became popular. It gives me hope that one day I might be able to make my comic good, though probably not self sufficient.

While flying through the QC archives, I saw an ad link at the bottom of the page labeled "Buddhist Punk Shoes" and was deeply disappointed upon clicking it by the resulting appearance of Zappos, a normal shoe store that looks neither particularly Buddhist nor especially punk. Alas. I was really curious to see how that would work out.

I can't quite fathom that 2007 is coming to a close. I should post a year in review entry at some point. It's certainly been a landmark year in my life, perhaps the biggest since 1999.

My concert agenda for 2008 is already taking shape as Philip snagged tickets to The Bravery in February and I might go see Band of Horses with Tom in January, both at the Paradise Rock Club. Oh goodness, whatever has become of me?

Brand New with Thrice and mewithoutyou at Tsongas Arena, Lowell, 12/9

I go to way too many shows. (Insert "Shoes" video parody here. - I think you have too many shows. -Shut up!) The latest, and the last for the time being, was Brand New with Thrice and mewithoutyou at Tsongas Arena in Lowell, which is about an hour north of Boston. I'd had these tickets since July, and Brand New is one of my favorite bands, so I was really excited. And it was awesome, especially since I love their most recent album, The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me, so incredibly much. This review is going to be a lazy review, which is not proportional to the awesome that was the concert.

Guy and I drove up in a Zipcar and stopped at Friendly's, which is becoming a tradition of ours. It's all about the Honey BBQ Chicken Supermelt. The Tsongas arena was big, and we got there right as they opened the doors thanks to a convenient "detour" (by which I of course don't mean getting lost, certainly not), so we didn't have to wait in the cold.

The show began with mewithoutyou, and I enjoyed their set, but none of the music especially stuck with me. I found their stage presence to be more memorable than the songs themselves. The crowd, which consisted almost exclusively of the more understated subspecies of young emo kids, did not quite know what to make of the bearded, balding lead singer pulling at turns maracas, a trumpet, an accordion, and what I call a "cymbal-stick" out of nowhere to accompany their quirky, classic-rock-inspired indie-core. If the Decemberists liked to scream a lot, it might sound something like this.

After mewithoutyou wrapped up, Thrice burst onto the stage with "The Artist In The Ambulance," their most upbeat, catchy song. It sounded great and also ignited the mosh pit, which we (and everyone around us) really tried to avoid. We managed to get pushed into a relatively movement-free place with a good view, so all was well. Thrice played a number of songs from their new album, The Alchemy Index, a concept album dived between "fire" and "water," themes that pervade both the music and lyrics. "Fire" included some heavy songs like "Firebreather" and the epic singalong "Burn the Fleet," while "Water" featured gorgeous, swirling songs like "The Whaler" and "Drowning in a Digital Sea." I started listening to Thrice relatively recently, so I haven't memorized their whole catalogue and some of the setlist blurred together in my mind. They also played a solid and diverse collection of older songs, which I'm pretty sure included "Silhoutte" and "Stare at the Sun," and "Deadbolt." They finished with the brutal "The Earth Will Shake" from 1995's Vheissu. It was a very hard-rocking set interspersed with some quieter, melancholy tunes. The use of lighting was not the most original -- red and flashing for hard songs and blue and shifting for the soft -- but Thrice occupied that stage with such a strong presence that one would not have guessed that they were openers. Most importantly, Dustin Kensrue's voice was clear and strong above the crowd, and perfectly pitched even in his screams. It was a set that could have headlined its own tour.

Brand New took over half an hour to come out, which was really eating on everyone's nerves. When they did come out, though, all was forgiven. They opened with a jamming version of "Welcome To Bangkok" and launched straight into "Millstone." Both these songs were from The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me, which I think is an absolutely brilliant piece of work, but is significantly slower and darker than their previous, more generic records. This show was unquestionably in the mode of that album, with relatively low lighting, few smiles and no interjected words between songs, and a setlist that included nearly every song from Devil and God along with a clustered selection of older tracks. I noticed right away during "Millstone" that it was hard to hear the band and Jesse above the singing of the crowd, and compared to Thrice, their sound seemed weak even in their loud moments. This continued through "The Archers' Bows Are Broken," which I had been really excited to hear, but was disappointed in live. I was concerned that the rest of the show would be dragged down by the acoustics, but fortunately it only got better and better as the night went on.

"Jesus Christ," the hit of the album, and one of my favorite songs, period, of the past two years, really changed the pace. Unfortunately, the crowd really wanted to sing to this one too, but it was so beautiful, and the music was soft enough to hear Jesse's plaintive voice above the masses. I really connected with him and with the rest of the audience at the crescendoed climax of the song. The melancholia continued with "Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis," which was absolutely gorgeous. They then treated the fans to the first track from their first album, "The Shower Scene," which contrasted sharply with the richer harmonies and deeper themes of the more recent songs, but got everyone up on their feet. Everyone seemed pleasantly surprised to hear "Tautau," the often ignored opening track from Deja Entendu, which was followed by another track off that album, "Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don't." This song has always been a favorite of mine (I'm a sucker for the soft-loud surprise shift, which Brand New has just been loving lately), and it was perfect, full of tension at the beginning until it finally broke into the chorus. Jesse found a handy and powerful way to sing above the crowd by singing a cool harmony rather than the melody -- and not the same one that guitarist Vincent Accardi was singing -- and it was haunting and made the whole experience feel more personal and real.

After the string of songs from older albums, Brand New returned to Devil and God and stayed there for the rest of the night. "Luca" came next, another quiet falsetto-driven song that unexpectedly roars into agonized wailing midway through. On thing I love about Brand New is how truly emotional their music is, and this song was a great example of how Jesse's anguish really came through on stage. Next came "Handcuffs," which I never really got into on the album, but was beautiful live.

It was in the last five songs, though, that Brand New really, really shone. Part of it was that, in addition to harmonizing, Jesse had incorporated just plain melodic screaming into his vocal improvisation. I mean, of course, screaming that wasn't already in the song as recorded. It was as if the emotion was generated throughout the course of the night, and instead of switching moods, the passion just built up. "Not The Sun" just plain rocks, and the anthemic chorus really felt like a unified moment between the whole of the crowd and the men on the half-lit stage. The four-part "Limousine," a fan favorite, was perfectly executed and culminated in another audience bonding moment with its rising repeating chorus. I realized that if Brand New know how to do anything, it's how to end a song. "Sowing Season," which I had been awaiting, was powerful, veering between quiet, sadly hopeful verses that quote Rudyard Kipling, and desperate, reeling distorted guitar bursts to the single word "Yeah." The soft-loud pattern that never seems to get old continued with the hauntingly harmonized "You Won't Know," whose rocking midsection sent shivers up my spine. The last real song they played was the screamer "Degausser," which seemed designed for shameless crowd singing as the recorded version contains a kids' chorus in the background. It worked wonderfully.

They came back on for an encore, but anyone in the audience who was hoping to get some more singing in would have been disappointed. It was a long jam built around the instrumental "Untitled." The encore really highlighted how different this show was from the type they have put on for previous tours. They passed up the perennial signature "Seventy Times Seven" and their radio hit "The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows," as well as old fan favorites like "Jude Law and A Semester Abroad." Fortunately, the darker, subtler Devil and God is my favorite Brand New album, and although I would have loved an encore of "Seventy Times Seven," those last five songs were so full of raw power that I just got the feeling the band didn't want to be tied down to their old style anymore. I love a band who can really mature and move on from high school romance without selling out or losing their emotive edge. What the concert really made me do was wonder what kind of album Brand New were going to come up with next, and that, of course, is the best way to do a tour.

Random Updates

My Christmas List has been updated, with edits in red.

I have a lot to do this week, but I will eventually have a review of the totally awesome Brand New show from Sunday. It was splendid.

I am craving eggnog like nobody's business.

I'll probably delete this post later. XD

Bayside and the Victory Records Tour at the Middle East Downstairs, 12/6/07

The trouble with winter tours is that waiting outside for the doors to open is kind of a pain when it's 30 degrees outside, and you know that when you get inside you are not going to want the twelve layers of fleece, wool, and down you could have been wearing so you opt for a parka, a tee and some armwarmers and realize too late that you did want that hoodie after all.

But I digress. I arrived at the Middle East, an optional T-stop away, and got in line behind a bunch of semi-obnoxious kids. Oh, the trials of the all-ages show. I noticed right away that the crowd was young, but not unusually so; and consisted of not only the typical sce/mo brigade but also some relatively jock/skaterish looking dudes with baseball caps. I also saw something that I had hitherto not thought possible: a guy in skinny jeans who was sagging. I kid you not. I wanted to hand him a belt until I saw he was already wearing one. Then I just wanted to hand him a sandwich.

The Middle East is a great venue for getting up close and personal, if the acoustics left a little to be desired. A Day To Remember came on first. They made it clear from the get go that this is a genuine hardcore band. The floor, which was not yet quite at full capacity, opened into a genuine pit with genuine hardcore dancing. I just love to watch that. It's better than ninja fights in anime. It's what I imagine electrons doing when they randomly pop up in different places at every instant. I have a hard time getting into hardcore musically, but being there live was awesome. Apparently a sizeable pack of people -- the jockish guys from the line -- had shown up just for ADTR. The rest of the lineup was too "emotive" and not "hxc" enough for them I guess. I overheard a couple of boys saying, "Dude, let's go. I kinda don't want to see the rest of the show." Good riddance if you ask me. This species of fans are a little too much like a sports team for me to want to be wedged in between them for more than an hour. ADTM was pretty fun, though, and played a couple songs I liked the sound of and some rousing covers.

Next up was June, the only act that didn't enthrall me completely. It is too bad, because I think I might really enjoy their style if I had been able to hear the vocals (which were clearly meant to be heard) over the guitars. They played a kind of generic punky pop, sung by a guy who looked like a taller, manlier version of Elijah Wood, and the lead guitarist was bouncy and flaily and vaguely seemed to wish it were the 1970s. He was the best thing about the set, exploding all over the stage and all but hacking into the crowd with his guitar like a hatchet. The sound mixing just killed any personality the songs themselves might have had, but I'll probably check them out online anyway.

My loyalties are forever with Bayside, but I really must say that The Sleeping stole the show. Their brand of progressive screamo was made for live performance. The singer, Doug Robinson, looked like the deranged love child (as if there would be any other kind) of Jack Black and King Kong himself. This is not to say he was bad looking, just something about his large face, shaggy hair, beady wild eyes, and primal energy said cave-man on speed. He stared out at the audience with an intesely manic gaze, standing up on the barrier and practically swinging from the pipe attached to the low-hanging ceiling. The music was pretty rocking too (a song called "The Climb" was particularly memorable), and I made a note to add them to my ever-growing list of watched bands. The crowed went wild for these guys, and since there was not enough room for dancing anymore, we had kind of a static overstuffed mosh-pit that most closely resembled the garbage compactor from that scene in Star Wars. I had never gotten so pushed around, not even at MCR, or at the O.A.R. Spring Fling show. I probably should have left my headband at home, as I almost lost it several times. At one point I literally imagined I was underwater. But it was great fun. Doug crowd surfed over us and I touched his arm. They're on the way to being much bigger.


Bayside came on at last, blasting into the froward-surging crowd with "They're Not Horses, They're Unicorns." They were a very chatty and grateful band onstage, which is almost mandatory in a venue that small. Singer Anthony Raneri mentioned that they had played in Boston every time they toured, and that they had played the Middle East a few times, but only on the small auxiliary stage "Upstairs." They had always wanted to play Downstairs, and now they finally were. They played a mix of tracks from their past three albums, especially this year's The Walking Wounded. "Duality," the hit single, and "Carry On," which they announced to be the next single, maintained the energetic vibe that had built during The Sleeping's set. Lead guitarist Jack O'Shea is skillful in a way that sets Bayside apart from some of the clone army of similar bands, and fortunately the mics were better coordinated so that both his parts and Anthony's spot-on vocals were clear. They played two or three songs from their first album which I don't own, and they sounded so young and fresh and punktastic. The maturity in the new tracks is audible, though. "Landing Feet First" was introduced as a heartfelt love song, and everyone swayed and sang along. The classics "Blame It On Bad Luck" and "Montauk" were injected with new life, and Anthony dedicated the triumphant "I and I" to all the other bands that had played before them. The finale was "The Walking Wounded," my favorite Bayside song, and to top it all off, they returned for an encore that included "Devotion and Desire," the signature hit from their self-titled sophomore disk. It was a fantastic crowd-rousing, almost shiver-inducing moment, when he let the crowd sing the buildup "You're not ready / you're not ready /Please, stop acting like you are." During the last round of chorus, the singers from ADTR and The Sleeeping sat on the top of the crowd, facing outward, and joined in the singing. It was a fantastic end to what truly seemed to be a label tour made of friends. Bayside is tight and approachable live, and I was glad they played such a chronologically diverse set. The only other song I really missed was "Dear Your Holiness," but you can't win them all. What a deal of a show night. Victory indeed.

Tomorrow I'm off to Lowell to see Brand New, Thrice, and mewithoutyou. Super whoot. And I'm posting comics again.

It's cold but skies are blue

This is just to say that I am feeling much better about things now. I had a wonderful, wonderful evening with Tom where we went out for sushi together, wandered around the Coop fantasizing about being acclaimed authors, and wasted time at CVS. Its is remarkable how the two of us are at such similar places in our lives right now, facing such similar fears, hopes, and uncertainties. We both talked about how being in Cambridge is so much fun, and that if we took time off it might be nice just to stay in the area and work rather than going to our respective hometowns, except for the whole sky-high rent part. But I'm feeling slightly less overwhelmed by everything even though I have A Lot Of Things To Do, especially for Japan and China. And this afternoon I am going to see my bone collection for the first time. Whoot!

I didn't end up going to the WFNX show. In retrospect I kind of wish I had, because I didn't use my time that well anyway, but the clincher for me was when I realized that the whole concert was from 6:30 to 8:00, at which time Jonathan Davis (of Korn) had his own show in the same venue. I was like, what now? I calculated Spoon would get half an hour, with twenty minutes apiece for CWK and Against Me!, when the other minor openers (Mute Math and the winner of the radio contest) are taken into account, not to mention the time for set changes...yeah, that is an entirely different kind of beast, and not a $30 one. If I'd gone I would have felt kind of gipped that my party got curtailed by Jonathan Davis, who is forever on my black list for calling MCR a "gay ass emo band." Which they totally are, but I don't think he meant it in the endearing sense with which I might use it. Adults who use "gay" derogatorily should not be given microphones.

I am going to Bayside tonight though. Alone, but that doesn't matter - it's at a local club, early, and I can fend for myself at a concert. I had mentioned it to a couple others and Chris really liked the idea, but the tickets were sold out by the time he got around to getting them. I'm glad I snatched one up last weekend. Everything I've heard says they put on a great show. Will report later.

All things reconsidered

It's shocking when you realize that you know so little that it's impossible to ever catch up.

It's going to be one of those days when I change my position about my career again. Our lab meeting today completely discouraged me, both from the field of residue analysis which is basically more money than it's worth for the quality of data you can get, and from anything in biogeochemical archaeology in general. Call it My Chemical Ignorance. I just don't know things. I don't know them. Why does Noreen think I can learn science? I am light years behind where everyone else was when they were first years. Anyone can learn to use a mass spectometer, but if you have too look up on Google what a mass spectrometer is, exactly, you're on a different plane altogether. What's a functionalized compound? What's a fractionation pattern? How should I know? GAH.

I majored in regular archaeology, with a rather art historical thesis to boot. Most of these kids double majored in chemistry. Do I want to do regular, field archaeology? Well, not really. But it's all I know how to do, in theory, though in practice I am abysmal at the nuts and bolts.

I've been down all morning because of this shocking wakeup call. Just because I'm no longer depressed all the time does not mean I'm doing the right thing with my life after all. I might not need to leave school next year because I'm on the verge of total nervous collapse, but I might just want to leave because I really am trying to be someone I'm not. I've felt this way for years I think. Years. I'm bummed out.

Chris had a conflict arise and now can't make the Orpheum show tonight. Ordinarily I would totally go anyway, with or without a buddy. But I have two more concerts I've already bought tickets for this week, and I'm so tired today, I'm thinking I should take a rain check. We didn't get advance tickets, so I don't lose anything by just not going. It's too bad, because this is a great opportunity (Spoon! CWK! Against Me!!) but I'll just have to see how I feel at the time.

I'd love to go if I didn't already have such a heavy schedule. In this case it's about time and energy, not money. After all, the more work I get done now, the better Christmas will be. Then again, if I decide to quit school, maybe it's more important that I use my time in Boston to live the scene instead of holed up with a bundle of .pdf files and a headache.

On the plus side, I feel like since my default state is no longer set to "misery," my feelings about school, jobs, and everything else hold a lot more water. Before, it was as though everything was covered with mud. Now the mud is gone, and it's much easier to tell what is attractive and what is not. It's possible now to separate the bad days from the good days and figure out what went wrong and what makes me happy. I should not take that for granted.

Let it snow!

Well, it finally happened. Boston got our first snow. Unfortunately it is being followed by a light rain that turns the ground to icky slush, but the little white trimmings on the rooftops and cars are a welcome holiday addition.

This week is going to be concert week. I've been planning to go to Brand New for months now, which is on Sunday, but between now and then, I have two more shows that just came up! I got invited to the WFNX Miracle On Tremont Street, with Spoon, Cold War Kids, and Against Me!, which happens tomorrow evening at the Orpheum. I hadn't listened too much to Spoon or the Cold War Kids outside of the hits, but I picked up some of their stuff and it's sure solid. And Against Me! is just plain awesome. I love seeing three great bands for $30. Then there is Bayside, coming to the Middle East on Thursday. I just got into them and I've heard I need to go to the Middle East at some point (it's so close!), and the tickets were a steal because I went right to the venue and bypassed service charges. And then, the grand finale, BRAND NEW! I adore them.

I'm making decent progress on the schoolwork the week has thrown at me. I still procrastinate a lot, but I've managed to get a headstart on ome winter research papers and keep up with the lecture readings. Yesterday I went to the NaNo TGIO party and met up with April, Aly, and Mary Anne. I won a new flash drive in the door prize drawing, which is exactly what I needed! It's black and pink too. :) NaNo is something I hope to make a tradition in my life. I haven't really done too much editing yet for Bodies In Flight, but I already have two more ideas. One is the archaeological mystery story I dreamed up a couple summers ago, which would definitely be a YA thing. The other is about werecats, inspired, I think, by the prospects of living with a giant cat next year if Emma gets everything she wants. It's amazing how different the ideas I produce are when I'm no longer miserable. Yeah, I'm still twelve, but at least I'm not twelve and depressed.

There are a couple new additions to my Christmas list. The link on the right was down but it should work now; if not, just scroll back a few entries. And I'll try to get some holiday comics up soon.

Good tidings we bring

Well, now that NaNoWriMo is over, I actually have time to blog. I just finished a draft of a 50,000 word novel. I am pretty proud of some of it and the rest of it is humiliating. But that's what editing is for.

Philip: "It had better not be about an angsty girl trying to get through life...it is, isn't it?"
Me: "...Two?"

Ever since I've started writing this book I have been much happier. Obviously some of this is circumstantial or due to other obvious factors, but the fact that I was able to consistently write 2,000 words a day in the middle of the school year proved several things to me. One, it proved that I can do something if I love it. I have not, as I had feared, lost my work ethic. Two, it showed me that I am capable of carrying out fiction projects while in the midst of a scholarly career, contrary to everything I had believed up until that point. At first I thought that my dedication to NaNo was proof that I was in the wrong career, that I was meant to be a writer and not an archaeologist. Now, however, I feel that is not necessarily true. I think my success with NaNo is a testament to how powerful I can be when I care. And the truth is, an academic career is one of the few kinds where you have significant control over your research topics. You get to study what you care about. When I get my own research, as long as I can be assertive enough to ensure it's something I really want to do, maybe I'll be able to just get it done.

I realized this when Noreen proposed that I start a bone analysis project this semester, before our museum is deprived of our Native American collections this spring. From the little information I have, it sounds very exciting, mostly because it is starting now and I am learning to do something that Noreen and everyone in the lab are very good at, and will thus get plenty of help. Noreen is also teaching her Soil Analysis course in the Harvard Forest in the spring, which I want to take.

I spent most of Thanksgiving coughing and talking like the smoker lady with the hole in her throat from that '90s TV spot that traumatized my entire generation. (At night, my eyes got confused and thought they were my nose, which meant that for the last few days I have not bothered to wear eyeliner. This has produced a number of reactions amongst the surrounding members of my species. Apparently without my makeup I am something between "lovely" and "unrecognizable.")

But the point is, when I came back to Harvard, I felt so welcomed and remembered how much I enjoyed these people. I'm starting to think I don't even want to take time off next year, that it would make more sense to finish out the round of classes and generals with my cohort and then perhaps allow a term off for self reflection. Maybe I'm just insane, but I think I can pick out the point where the magic kicked in. I can really honestly feel a difference, a physical difference. I feel like I've never felt in years. I feel young again. I feel like I am enjoying life so much more fully now, despite the fact that I've started to do work again. I've been actually doing it, and actually not minding! I had not realized how bad things had gotten because I had been so accustomed to feeling bad, but now...it's like a different world.

Kate came to visit, and seeing her was really inspiring. It was also great to see Jenny again. I feel like the tide has turned. There will obviously be hard times, but I feel like the wind has changed. I really was thinking today about how hard it would be to give up these people but also this language that I've learned to speak, this culture I've been steeped in without even noticing that normal people didn't talk about iconography or spindle whorls or the Old and New Worlds.

There's a lot more I could say, but I don't think I need to.

My Interactive Christmas List

Well, it's about that time. This list will continue to be modified, so keep an eye on the link in the sidebar.


DVDs:

Harold and Maude . This movie is simply amazing.

Music:

Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and/or Gimme Fiction
Mineral – The Power of Falling
The Best of Morrissey


iTunes cards are awesome.

My speakers are on the fritz. As in, the left on works but the right one doesn't. I'm not sure if that means I should get new ones or not.

EDIT: Maybe not, because when I get an apartment next year, I might want to bring my stereo. Then again, we shall see.


Books:
Contemporary acclaimed fiction. Fun things. Nothing academic, seriously. I won’t find time to read it.

Thomas Wolfe: Look Homeward Angel - I've always been in love with a particular quote from this novel but have never read it.

I'd like to read this: The World Without Us.

DO NOT BUY ME SELF HELP BOOKS. That is not a Christmas present.


Clothes:

I have a lot of clothes. Clothes are tricky. But I love clothes and the last few times you’ve found stuff, you’ve been shockingly on the mark.

Remember when we found this? The site says they're out of stock online, so run to the store!

Cute band tees are always a go if I like the band. I'm really into band tees.
A great site for this is Merch Now. The Fall of Troy has a particularly good selection. I'm particularly fond of this one but I like most of them. For a list of acceptable bands, check my blog profile. For all tees: if it’s a unisex tee, the smaller the better (Youth M/L or Adult S). If it’s a girls’ cut, size M.

I did not buy a Brand New shirt at the Tsongas show, even though I really want one, because I'm not big on the curret designs or the venue prices. I'd sure like one though. They're in my top ten. I rather like this one even though it doesn't come in girly sizes.

I love hoodies so much right now. I have so many though.

Avoid pants. All I want are more jeans like the tight stretchy boot-leg black Levis I bought in 1999, but I don't think they exist anymore.


Stocking Stuffers:

I eat this stuff for breakfast. It's at Long's. And yes, I do have a color of choice.

Similarly, I could use a dark red nail polish that's not $2.00. The one I have is the ideal color but it's just not good quality. Darker is always better.

Also, a necklace that is inexpensive, relatively large, and red-dominated.

Armwarmers are a necessary cuteness.

I love fun socks.

Headbands.


The big thing I might not want:

A drawing tablet...might or might not be good. I can't help but think it's a waste of money. It would make my scanner. which works just fine, a lot less relevant. If I'd had it for my senior project it would have been great, but I don't see myself doing something like that for a while now that I'm in science land. So I might take it off from here.

EDIT: I'm pretty sure I would rather have money, concert tickets, or a cat than a tablet.

Stay tuned for updates.

The New Pornographers at the Roxy, 10/23

The New Pornographers’ songs are almost too catchy. This is not to diminish their musical brilliance; rather, it is testament to it. But seriously, every time I’ve been listening to them it takes an active effort to dislodge the songs from my head. Granted, having one of these power pop confections sparkling through your cerebrum is no sad fate, but I’m always afraid that one day (though it hasn’t happened yet) I’ll get tired of the thing or its magic will stop working on me. Of course, the best way to dislodge an NPs song from your head is to think of another NPs song. Any will do. It’s that great.

There are exactly eight New Pornographers, all of which were on stage Tuesday night. All of them have other musical projects, whether lesser known bands or solo careers, btu this group has really thrown them all into the indie limelight. The leader is Carl Newman, a burly blond bearded man who looks like he could be your “cool” uncle. And if Carl is the brains behind the band, Neko Case is the soul. She sings on almost every song, sometimes taking the lead part and other times backing up for Carl. Neko also has made a name for herself as a solo artist, and apparently is often doing her solo stuff while the Nps are touring, leaving keyboardist Kathryn Calder has to take over her vocal duties. Luckily, tonight we got the full octet on the stage, and witnessed the beauty of the combined vocals of Neko and Kathryn against Carl. The fourth Pornographer who sometimes sings is Dan Bejar, whose first priority is his band Destroyer and who has a tendency to leave and hang around offstage between “his” songs. Bassist John Collins is also a member of Destroyer. Drummer Kurt Dahle, guitarist Todd Fancy, and (I kid you not) synthesizer/video director Blain Thurier round out the group.

The Roxy is an 18-plus venue, so the kids stayed home, which was kind of nice. Despite that, it was a young crowd compared to Tori, and it seemed like even more men were there than women. I was amused by the number of people wearing glasses, of the thick-black-rimmed variety and otherwise. Most amusing to me was the fact that I ran into Professor Jason Ur, currently on leave at Harvard, in the line. The NPs are his favorite band. Who knew? It's also a pretty small venue, and the show was sold out. Just by being on the floor, which is the only place to be unless you want to sit at the bar and drink, you're up pretty close.

Emma Pollock and her band opened with a nice set of guitar-driven ballads, occasionally channeling Joni Mitchell with songs like “Limbs.” It was good enough that I was inspired to go to her MySpace to find out the name of that song.

When the NPs came on, their name lit up behind them in old-fashioned lights. They kicked things with the pounding “All of the Things that Go to Make Heaven and Earth,” which, like about half the songs, came from the Challengers album, released just last month. They then and launched directly into the hit “Use It,” which the crowd just ate up. For the next two hours they played most of the new album interspersed with songs from their last three records, especially 2005’s Twin Cinema, the record which got me hooked on the band. The performances and songs were so consistently good that they blended together emotionally, for me, into one euphoric squee-fest. (OMG they’re playing my favorite song! Oh wait, No, THIS is my favorite song! OMG!) I got particularly excited over “The Laws Have Changed,” which is one of my top dance-like-crazy-in-my-room songs; “Challengers,” the mellow, folksy title track that had everyone entranced; and “Go Places,” my favorite song from the new album. One of Neko’s greatest vocal tracks, “Go Places” combines a deceptively simple melody with triumphant lyrics, and it played a large part of pulling me out of my depression last week. And it was oh so good live. The crowd also got really into “Twin Cinema” and the irresistible “Sing Me Spanish Techno,” a poppy classic that got even the most impassive hipsters to move a little on the floor. Both the latter two songs were saved until late in the set, leaving me worrying that they might not get played at all. It was one of those nights when every new set of opening chords brought a delighted smile of recognition.

Here's the full setlist (maybe a little out of order):

All of the Things that Go to Make Heaven and Earth
Use It
Myriad Harbor
Jackie, Dressed in Cobras
Spirit of Giving
All the old Showstoppers
The Electric Version
Challengers
Mass Romantic
My Rights Versus Yours
The Laws Have Changed
Unguided
Twin Cinema
Adventures in Solitude
Testament to Youth in Verse
Sing Me Spanish Techno
Go Places
The Bleeding Heart Show

Encore:
These are the Fables
The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism

The band didn’t chat too much between songs, though Carl threw a few cute lines of gratitude out at the crowd. With so many players on stage, it never felt crowded, but some of the quieter members tended to blend into the background behind the front lines of Neko, Carl, and Kathryn. Whenever Dan showed up for one of his songs, all eyes were on him. He exuded apathetic cool, muttering Velvet Underground-esque vocals between swigs of beer. I am not sure how a huge and diverse group like this functions in real life, but on stage it worked like a bright shiny machine.

The last song before the encore was one of my favorites, “The Bleeding Heart Show.” With its buildup from percolating verses to a rolling boil of “hey-las,” it was a perfect climax. It’s one of those songs that just grows and grows until you’re swamped in harmonic bliss. And everyone knew it was the end, and we all danced.

The two-song encore was great, but nothing compared to that finale. It was a thoroughly solid show and the best Tuesday night I’ve had in ages. I’m pretty sure the New Pornographers make the best happy music around these days. Their lyrics may be obtuse and ironic, but the songcraft is the stuff of joy. Take that, hipsters.

Tori Amos at the Orpheum

This is who I wish I could be:



Last night, I went to my first Tori Amos concert. It was really powerful, because I've been a fan of Tori for almost as long as I've been a fan of good music. I first noticed her in middle school when "Silent All These Years" – despite being five years old by then – was still getting frequent airplay on Star 98.7. The song occupied a slot on my mix tapes (oh, those were the days) next to Jewel, The Gin Blossoms, and other things I haven’t listened to in years. I distinctly remember stopping by my friend Darcy’s sister’s place on our way to San Deigo and seeing her CD case full of Tori’s stuff. Hm, I thought. When I got deep into Pumpkins fandom in 1999, the alt.music boards were raving about her latest release, To Venus and Back. So I got it, as well as her debut Little Earthquakes. Since then I’ve always considered her my favorite female musician out there. I went through a particularly strong Tori period in 2006. She's in my all-time contemporary top tier. So this was a big deal.

As usual, I was curious to see what the demographic spread of this audience would be. As I suspected, it was quite diverse. There were a lot of couples there, ranging from 15 to 40, and I wondered how many of the male halves were tagalongs or dragalongs. There were a few girl couples, and I spotted two guys that I suspected were an item as well. Directly in front of us were more of those ubiquitous, teenie-weenie black-hoodie-and-jeanagers that insist on following me around, and yet, there were even a few gray heads in the audience without associated adolescent baggage.

The opener came on, a young, barefoot guy with an acoustic guitar and a lot of fancy stuff down at his feet. He used his guitar as a percussive instrument to accompaniy his own playing, and was really quite skilled at this. His voice reminded me at times of Brian Molko from Placebo. I wish I had caught his name or seen it in print, because I don’t think I’ve seen someone play quite like that, and I’m curious to see what his story is.

At last, Tori’s three piece band began to play. The drummer and bassist occupied the back corners, while the guitarist hung around at left stage. In the center stood a piano bench, flanked on one hand by a grand piano and on the other by an electronic keyboard on top of an upright piano. Tori's throne. The song was the poppy “Bouncing Off Clouds,” one of the catchy standouts from the latest album, American Doll Posse. A bright white strobe light layered over pitch black set the tone for the night, which turned out, for better or worse, to be a veritable light show. Tori emerged with dark hair, a dark purple dress and heels. She was playing Clyde, one of five alter egos (the 'Posse', which includes herself) she assumes on ADP. The songs on the record are divided among these characters, and “Bouncing Off Clouds” is Clyde’s song. So were the other new selections played during the first set. She has been playing a different character for the beginning of each show on this tour. Clyde, supposedly based on the Greek Persephone, had a distinct way of moving and being that was different from Tori's, slightly more Stevie Nicks, perhaps. But there was no mistaking Tori's incredible singing, which was even more angelic, raw, and emotive live than on record.

By limiting herself to one character's set of ADP songs, Tori allowed plenty of room for her classics. The second song she launched into was the title track from Little Earthquakes, letting the audience know that their old favorites would not be ignored. In fact, half of the offerings were from previous albums. With a fifteen-year career and a cult-like fan following such as she has, that is probably the best strategy. And it was clear that as may times as she must have played the mid-nineties songs, she was far from tired of them. In “Earthquakes,” the rising desperation of the climactic mantra, “Give me life / give me pain/ give me my / self again” rang as true as if it were spontaneously created. Set one continued with the ADP tracks “Girl Disappearing” (a personal favorite of mine) and “Beauty of Speed,” as well as the darkly textured "Juarez" and a theatrically gestured “Little Amsterdam."

“Clyde” left to change costumes and return to her identity as “Tori.” I realized this was the second concert I’d been to in a row that involved alter egos and costume change, and wondered what that said about me. While she was off, the boys in the band rocked out in a pretty kickass interlude.

Tori strutted back out in an intensely sparkly one-piece that caught whatever colors the lights were favoring, which in this case was gold. The song was “Big Wheel,” a saucy, uptempo ADP standout sung – again, like all the new material that followed – by the “Tori” character. Oozing confidence, Tori chanted, “I am an M-I-L-F, don’t you forget.” It’s so true. Even with her controversial straightened hair, which I love, she may be the hottest 44-year old in the business. This was one number from ADP I was really eager to see live, and it didn’t disappoint. Tori's sexual energy dominates the stage in a way that is wholly different from the pop-sexuality in a Britney or even a Madonna gig. It has a spontaneous, wild, organic dimension that most female performers fail to harness. Even in her most theatricized moments, Tori Amos is unabashedly real. In her impassioned performance of "Spacedog", Tori straddled the bench with one hand on each keyboard. The powerful "Sugar" was followed by a rousing rendition of “Cornflake Girl,” a perennial favorite. Half-on and half-off the bench, she attacked the upper registers of the grand piano like and injured animal struggling to escape as cheers went up in recognition. If anything, her older songs seemed to bring out more passion than mid-career material like “Spring Haze.” By contrast we were spellbound during the eerie, delicate “Bells For Her,” which once again had Tori seemingly suspended between keyboards. At one point, she played an absolutely gorgeous thing I'd never heard, one of my favorites of the nights, which I later confirmed was pure improv. That's my girl.

Tori took a moment to chat with us a bit, leading up to a cute impromptu ditty about how she hates going through border check (the next show is in Montreal). She manages to come off as both ribald and demure, her quiet speech casually peppered with obscenities. This is, after all, a person who once dated Trent Reznor. A woman at the end of our row, who was kind enough to share her binoculars with us, had happened to meet Tori outside the theater at 4pm when the buses had arrived. She had hugged her and gotten her album signed. I was intensely jealous of this. But perhaps to have met two of my idols in one month would have been too much to ask the gods of fandom.

As rich and powerful as the band’s accompaniment was, the emotional core of the night came when Tori and her keyboards played alone for a few songs in the middle of the show. I almost cried during the poignant “China,” which hit me harder than ever in the wake of the last few months. I pulled myself together for "Merman," But then, when the opening chords of “Northern Lad” sounded, I knew I was doomed. It’s hard to choose a favorite song from such a deep and affecting catalogue, but “Northern Lad” is a real contender for my heart. And it was the one I had been most consciously hoping to hear live, and yes, I was going to cry. The emotion of that chorus, those high notes, was just chill-inducing.

I had gotten so wrapped up in "Northern Lad" I didn't even realize that the band had returned. I was kind of let down by the hit "A Sorta Fairytale," the only song she played from Scarlet's Walk, which seemed almost mumbled after the outpouring of the previous song. the only song from . The new song "Code Red" came to life on the stage, taking on a heavy, almost violent quality entirely absent in the recording, and capped off the second act with a bang.

Of course, there was an encore. There were two. I was so excited when the low rumble of Precious Things began. The greatest angry Tori song ever, played live...it was awesome. Then came the bright "Parasol." The final encore was the pair of classics "God" and "Hey Jupiter." We had been waiting to hear the former all night, jumping at false alarms, and the latter was absolutely heartbreaking.

I felt like I had been completely filled by fifteen years of Tori's music comprising eight years of my life as a fan. Only as we boarded the train did I begin to think of the dozens of other songs I did not get to hear. Wouldn't it have been great to hear "Winter" or "Happy Phantom?" At least one more song from Scarlet's Walk or Choirgirl? And then I started thinking that my Tori concert would not be my last.

Breaking down the double standards

I am more than a little amused by yesterday’s column in the Harvard Crimson. Alexandra Petri seems to imply that Drew Faust is a hopeful icon for women because she’s not wearing makeup or trying to appear "effortlessly hot." Well…

First of all, with all due respect, President Faust is 50 years old. If she were trying to be "hot," in any conventional sense, it would be very weird. I could say the same thing for Hillary Clinton, who does wear makeup. Well put-together? Sure. "Effortlessly hot?" Nah.

Secondly, the meat of the column seems concerned that women not only enjoy themselves less than men, but that one of the things they do enjoy is their daily beauty routine. Petri suggests that if women are indeed beautifying themselves for themselves, rather than because of societal burdens, it is "almost more disturbing." I ask, why? As long as we enjoy it, can’t we at least have that enjoyment without feeling guilty about it as well? If an aspiring intellectual such as myself enjoys the act of applying eyeliner, does that somehow make me less of role model for ambitious, brainy young women?

…Okay, maybe I should have used another example. But this isn't about me.

For Petri, the fact that a woman who doesn’t wear makeup can be elected to such a high position is a step forward. And granted, the double standard is evident: imagine if Hillary Clinton got up to the debate platform without a daub of Maybelline. It just wouldn't happen. As is to be expected in a male-dominated society, women are expected to look good and perform; men are judged on far more lenient aesthetic grounds. But is the ultimate ideal, then, for women to regress to the slovenliness typical of most straight American males? Or, rather, should we strive towards equality by requiring men to actually groom themselves in the morning? If it's true that women enjoy getting dolled up so much, it's only fair not to deprive the men of this enjoyment. While I agree with Petri's general point that it's wonderful that Harvard can hire a woman who doesn't wear makeup, I argue that it would be much more progressive to elect a MALE president who DID wear makeup. And much more fun for weird girls like me.

On a related note, I think Petri would find the Archaeology wing to be another beacon of hope: I have noticed I am the only one among us who regularly wears eye makeup to class. And by regularly I mean imperatively, and by eye makeup I mean are you sure you didn’t lose your way to the MCR video shoot. But no one holds it against me. Au contraire, my advisor in particular seems taken with the whole thing. My latest adventure in faculty-fashion interaction transpired yesterday morning, when Noreen tried on my red striped ballet flats and paraded around the lab, showing them off to the older grads. Sometimes I wonder if I was hired solely for the amusement of the sensible adults.

Meanwhile, I’m in the unfortunate stage of post-breakup recovery where I find lots and lots of people attractive. This includes several unnamed women in my department, an extremely androgynous, coffee-drinking boy of dubious consent age sighted at the Coop, and the guy who rang me up at the comic book store when I went to purchase Issue #2 of The Umbrella Academy. Men who work in comic book stores are not supposed to be attractive! Obviously there is something wrong with my brain.

Coming soon: Tori Amos and The New Pornographers live; the new Radiohead album and what it means for the music industry; critical praise of The Umbrella Academy; how Dashboard Confessional proves that sometimes pathos is mightier than talent; and Al Gore as a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

I'm in charge of department flair

The more time I spend in the Anthropology Department, the more surprised I am that no successful sitcom set in the absurdist world of academia has ever been created. I can easily envision a Scrubs-like universe in which hapless graduate students awkwardly navigate the twists and turns of departmental politics, crazy professors, undergraduate upstarts, and copious amounts of alcohol. Then I remember that academics are boring and nobody wants to watch people do their homework on T.V.

At any rate, we’ve found that the department is full of odd little moments. Consider the moment when one’s eminent advisors make their presence known by poking one’s pyramid-studded belt from behind:

Noreen: *poke poke*

Me (turning around, awkwardly): “Yep, that’s my belt.”

Gary (with the delighted pride of a sixty-year-old man who feels hip enough to assign subcultures using diagnostic fashion articles): “She’s punk."

Noreen (who had the previous week complimented my sneakers): “She’s our new fashion plate.”

That was the highlight of my Wednesday. Gary's declaration was the cutest thing ever, and I lacked the heart to tell him that anyone who actually was punk would be squirming in her Chucks at sight of the argyle-and-broken-heart motif branded across mine. When I am the department’s fashion plate, we know we’re in trouble.

I really am making a name for myself in this place, though, for better of for worse. For our Origins of Agriculture section, to liven up Friday’s discussion of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic A and B, I made everyone “PPNA” and “PPNB” sandwiches – pita, peanut butter, Nutella, and apple/banana, respectively. They were quite delicious. I got the impression this kind of thing had never happened before in all the years this course had been taught. I'm not quite sure what Professor Meadow was thinking, but I suspect some combination of "Oh goody, I knew I skipped lunch for a reason" and "I wasn't aware I had been transfered to an elementary school." Our T.A., a native of Georgia (the country, not the state), refused to partake and expressed his disappointment that the pitas weren't filled with something Middle Eastern. That, ladies and gentlemen, is called missing the point.

Yesterday I went to Tufts homecoming tailgate to meet Mel, which was interesting. It was great to see her, the weather was beautiful, and I really enjoyed myself once I'd put away some cider. However, it made me realize how very little I missed college life, and how very different my experience with college was from hers. I can never see myself flying cross-country for Yale homecoming. I personally have no desire to see drunken frat boys push over a table covered in uneaten food and half-empty beer cans onto the grass ever again. The same goes for a dozen people bouncing in the back of a pickup and raining cooler ice drippings on the masses below. Not my scene.

Of course, when I realize the alternative is watching a football game, the tailgate starts looking pretty good.

We're in Grad School Now. It's Serious Business.

Why yes, the name of the blog has changed. "Trailhobbit" was near and dear to my heart. Don't get me wrong. But as someone who has neither watched/read about hobbits nor set foot on a bona fide trail in some time, I felt it was time for a change. Particularly since the confusion with the original tripod blog led me to tack the inelegant "V.2" onto the end, I thought the name was a little, well, archaic.

Why The Holoscenester? Well, it's a pun. The Holocene is the geological epoch from 11,500 years ago to the present. The Holoscene, therefore, is the scene that has been big for the past 11.500 years. You may know it better as Civilization, but that's a problematic term these days that no true Holoscenester would ever use in earnest. Those who consciously follow the trends of this Holoscene are called Holoscenesters. Or anthropologists.

Which brings me to another point. I'm going to try to up the sophistication in this blog a little. *GASP* No way! Okay, sophistication -- which clearly does not encompass fangirling over Gerard Way and copious use of emoticons -- may be a strong word. Let's try...relevance. Remember when Trailhobbit used to report on the news? Well, the Holoscenester can't, I mean can't bear to read the news much anymore, and besides there are trillions of semi-professional and professional blogs covering that already. Instead I'd like to post (1) commentary on life as a grad student archaeologist, (2) actual cool stuff in archaeology, (3) anthropological observations of modern phenomena, be it the labyrinth of academia or MCR fandom. Primarily, this is still going to be a personal blog, but ideally a personal blog with a focus. There is, in theory, a difference between a blog and a LiveJournal, and I'd like to start respecting that. After all, if you're going to have four web journals, why be redundant? Mind you, I will still fangirl here when there is an actual event (concert, signing, album release) to fangirl over. And I will still occasionally make posts about what I had for dinner (see below). It's just that, in addition to those things, I hope to filter much of this blog through an anthropological lens. There will be less "I felt tired today / My default eyeliner ran out / (insert inappropriate language here)." It's about tone as much as content, and about what I leave out as much as what I put in.

Now we return to our regularly scheduled programming: What I Had For Dinner!

A month into our relationship, I finally deflowered my frying pan! I'm pretty proud of myself. When we entered class this afternoon, we were presented with leftover lunch from another event, and even though I'd already had lunch, the first rule of grad school is never turn down free food. I was disappointed by the dryness of my Tuna Niçoinnabe sandwich, and since I had, after all, eaten lunch, I thought I should take it home and salvage it. (I couldn't simply throw it away, because it contained capers.) So I decided to dress it with a couple slices of American cheese I'd snagged at a cookout some few weekends ago, slather some SmartBalance on the outsides of the dessicated rye, and grill it. In my frying pan. And guess what: it was GOOD.

FAIL of the week: Weather, Department Meetings, etc.

This post, like myself, has had no coffee and cannot hold a thought for more than three sentences.

I was supposed to be in a screening for group therapy right now. However, they called me at 8 am to tell me the doctor was not going to be in because she had been on call late last night, and I would have to reschedule for next week. When a mental health specialist is on call late at night, it makes you wonder if someone tried to kill themselves last night. This disturbs me.

What else disturbed me was that I dreamed about Nazis last night. Somehow I was on the run with a woman who I already knew would end up being killed by the Nazis, it was only a matter of time -- I had seen the future or something, I don't know. I knew she was doomed and I was in the exact same place as she was but just by luck I escaped and she didn't...it was a scary dream. It was long too, I just wish I remembered more of the story.

I think the Nazi dream arose from our deparment meeting on Monday. It was one of the most eye-opening and frustrating experiences I've had in a while. All the students brought up points that they had obviously been bringing up every single year, and every single year the profs would "consider a discussion around that subject." In other words, they don't listen to anything we say, even demands for basic needs like graduate level courses (NONE are being offered this semester). One of the professors responded to this request by stating point blank that the undergrads were smarter than we were. This is the same guy who told us that nitrogen becomes carbon by losing neutrons. And he got his B.A. and his Ph.D. here. All of us were so angry after that meeting, and we felt like total tools for coming here instead of the public schools we had all but enrolled in already. It was especially hard for me knowing how much closer I'd be to Jenny if I had chosen UCLA. I beat myself up about it. No good. :(

Fortunately my trio of advisors are some of the nicer and more sensible in the department. My main one met with me yesterday and was very encouraging. She wants to help me find a cool lab project to do. Right now we're thinking about Maya poison bottles. Poison bottles! Sweeeeeeet!!!

I thought I had my classes set: three lecture-section courses (China, South America, and the Origins of Agriculture) plus lab research time. But now my advisor is dead set I get out of the South America lecture course because it's a waste of my time to be in undergrad classes, and I know half the material, so she suggested I take a course in Social Anthro about Japan. Contemporary Japan is like obviously super awesome and I could write a paper about the hybridized past-future culture, or the aesthetics of manga, or why everyone in Tokyo dresses emo. Of course I'll probably get pressured to write about something like fishing. >> I don't want to hurt the feelings of my South America prof, because the class is already tiny and he's another of my advisors, but I'll be taking more classes with him later and I would really like to be in a seminar. I have to decide today and I hate decisions! *pouts*

My default eyeliner is nearly gone. It's only been three months. I am going to have to use my pretty-but-too-smeary one today, while I go out to buy another.

I broke my glasses (kind of) last week. I rebent them into shape but now the lens keeps falling out. I broke one of my favorite headbands, though it was probably asking to break since it was too small for my head to begin with. Note to self: stop shopping at stores for 12-year-olds.

I really want to read Umbrella Academy fanfiction, but I don't think anyone's gone there yet.

I never thought I'd say this, but I''m kind of getting excited about potential President Hillary.

And finally: WHY IS IT 90 DEGREES OUTSIDE? IT'S ALMOST OCTOBER.

My Comical Romance!

So yesterday, I met this man:

I met him at Newbury Comics on Newbury Street.

Let’s back up a bit. Earlier this week I stumbled across this little notice on the intrawebs. O RLY, I thought. Gee is signing his new comic book in Boston. That. Is rather close to me. Both out of loyalty and a genuine interest in what his odd little brain came up with, I had planned on picking up a copy of The Umbrella Academy anyway. What was the catch? I phoned Newbury, who said wristbands distributed when the store opened at 10 would guarantee priority in line when Gerard showed up at 4. My classes ran from 12 to 3. Perfect.

I woke myself up at 7:30 so I could get in line by 8:30. Conveniently, the T-stop was in clear sight of the storefront, and right away I spotted a gaggle of tired-looking teens in MCR shirts and decidedly tweemo attire. It took me a minte to realize that the line was in fact much longer – perhaps 50-60 people, including some accompanying parents. So I got in line and waited.

The kids in front of me in line were really physically small. I could tell from their vocabularies and their discussion of A.P.s that that they were high schoolers, but wow…they were small. They were all wearing blue jeans, black hoodies, studded belts, Chucks or Vans, and some article that said “My Chemical Romance” on it. They had made posters for the band, and one girl had made a black umbrella and striped scarf for her carebear and was going to give it to him. The girls were falling all over this one guy, who was nonchalantly telling stories of meeting several other bands in person. It was amusing.

More amusing, though, were the consistent expressions of bewilderment on the faces of the normal people passing by. "Who are you guys waiting in line for?" they always asked. Replies ranged from the obvious ("Gerard Way," "MCR," "My Chemical Romance," which often had to be revealed in succession to the clueless passerby) to the ironicly subtle ("It's a comic book signing") to the outright brilliant ("Godot," "Bon Jovi"). One girl didn't ask us anything, but I heard her mumble something about Avril Lavigne. Ouch. A middle-aged man muttered, "It must be the Beatles." One woman smiled brightly and said, "He's so lucky! He's got such great fans!" MCR fandom is indeed special. It seems to be contagious. The mother of a girl standing near me seemed to know everything about all the band members. "Gerard got married?" she asked me. "I wasn't sure if that was just an internet rumor."

I am absolutely fascinated by alternative youth culture, and particularly of MCR fandom. Based on this and on my concert experience in Worcester, I felt like I had two sample populations on which to base my anthropological fieldwork (though in reality it was probably the same population). My thesis is that MCR fans, like the band itself, are a unique bunch. Not your regular crop of emo kids. And I was going to include a side note on this study of mine, but it ended up doubling the length of the post, so I'll save it for a future time.

When I returned at 3:30, the line had swollen and extended down the entire block. Fortunately, my wristband enabled me to jump to the front half. As 4pm drew nearer, even more people climbed onto the back of the line. I found myself with a group of twentysomethings who worked and went to school in the area, and we commiserated over feeling old. Watching the other fans was amusing. A rather obnoxious group of youngsters wearing Burger King crowns took it upon themselves to sing MCR songs together while waiting for the signing to start. There was plenty of eyecandy for me: gorgeous girls with to-die-for hair, and boys in tight pants. But my favorite fan of all was a burly, twenty-something "tough guy" in a wifebeater who looked like he could take all of MCR out with one punch. I might have assumed he was here for his girlfriend's benefit, had the gorgeous tattoo of the Black Parade mascot on his forearm not been so strikingly visible. Now that is hardcore.

The company of my fellow collegians made the hour-long procession through the store rather enjoyable in and of itself. As we wound through the aisles, we found ourselves tempted by $8.99 CDs, Neil Gaiman anthologies, and Sid Vicious and David Bowie action figures. At that point, store workers broke the heartbreaking news to us: they would only let us give Gerard one item to sign. I can understand why they'd want to move the line along if people are demanding to get their CDs and their sneakers and their chests signed, butI was just hoping to get a signed book for Jenny along with my own. No such luck. One girl I was with was in the same situation. But we were still pretty psyched. We made bets on how much coffee Gerard would have with him. We all know him so well, it's kind of disturbing. XD

I finally got in sight of Gerard, and my heart did a little dance.

(I did not take this picture, because I'm a goody goody. I stole it from some internet girl.)

I was displeased and yet unsurprised that he wore his horrible Michael Jackson sunglasses. Seriously dude, your eyes make your face. You’re indoors. Take them the hell off! It would have felt much more personal had I been able to see his eyes. But he looked great anyway, and...surprisingly big. Well, not big, just…close-up. Life-size. Kinda like how the stuffed animals in natural history museums look so much bigger than you realized they actually were? And I loved his outift! It was so good to see him wear a tie again -- I think is meant to mirror the Umbrella Academy attire, but it also reminded me of the Not Okay getup. And his hair is looking good these days too! It's getting long and Elvis-esque. I wonder if he'll grow it back to his classic '05 look. As long as he doesn't go blond again, we're good. He had three venti Starbucks cups atop the table. I called that! I watched him sign for the girl ahead of me. Then it was my turn.

“Hi, I’m Gerard,” he said as he shook my hand.

Yeah, I know who you are, Gerard. XD He is so adorkable. LOVE.

So I told him who I was. He signed and personalized my book in silver ink, while I told him how much I love and respect what he does. I gave him a drawing of the band in their Black Parade uniforms, which I made shortly after the May concert.


From cartoonist to cartoonist. When I gave him the picture, he smiled the most genuine smile. I was so glad I had thought to bring it! He thanked me, still smiling, and I thanked him too, and went on my merry way.

The moment I got outside the door I had a bit of a fangasm. Some of the other girls were struggling to slow their heart rates as well, and smiled at me knowingly. It was a moment of silent bonding. Then I saw that the line outside the building still stretched down the block. Most of those people would not get to meet Gerard. However, they DID get to meet the local Jesus Man, who was haranguing them about how they were going to hell. They weren't buying it. It was hilarious.

I listened to TBP the whole subway ride home, while reading the comic book. I love it! The art is awesome, the story is inspired, and the whole thing glows darkly with Gerardyness. Can't wait for the second issue.

God, what a day. Hanging out with all those people, knowing that despite our differences we shared a love for this band -- the music, the men, and the art of it -- gave me a warm feeling of community. And the moment of glory was over so fast, but it was so great. I'm so lucky! He only did TWO signings - New York and Boston! As if it was possibly for me to adore this guy more.

This is me with my prize:


I really want to go as one of the Umbrella kids for Halloween, but alas, no one would get it.

So long and good night!

Busy busy busy

It’s been a few crazy days in archaeology land.

I slept poorly Wendesday night due to emotional crap, and conveniently, ALL DAY on Thursday was crammed with department activities. First, Department Orientation. I began the event by spilling my entire cup of coffee in my lap. The entire front of my pants as well as my underwear were soaked through. Everyone was staring at me, and the fact that I was saying “Fuck fuck fuck!” probably didn’t help. They were all quite concerned that I had burned myself, but the funny thing was I didn’t even notice the pain (high tolerance ftw!). I was just annoyed that I was soaking wet. Thank god I wore black jeans and the coffee didn’t even show.

Archaeo Wing luncheon. Uneventful. Met some students and faculty; got contradictory opinions on whether I need to take Organic Chemistry. My lab advisor is in Europe right now, so she was no help. Exhausted by the end. Passed on library tour and went home to “nap.”

Wine hour with Archeo and Bioanthro folk. Followed by party at Michele’s beautiful Somerville apartment. Lots of food and beer. Met people. Got even more tired.

Then came Friday, which was Anthropology Day -- basically ten short faculty presentations from 1 to 5 pm, followed by a reception with amazing food and wine. I was tired from the very beginning, and exhausted by the end. Went to reception anyway, mostly for the amazing food. I could live off free food here. I’m so tired of all my friends insisting on going out and spending money on it. >> We went out to a bar and had a few drinks with older students. It was all good, but I was so tired. I’m pretty certain I’m getting sick. I was also beginning to feel anxious about how unsuitable I was for independent archaeological fieldwork, and though my friends comforted me by reminding me of the other possibilities that lay down the line, such as lab-centric research or museum conservation, it contributed to my fatigue.

When I got home, it was only 9:30, but I can’t remember the last time I was that tired. I was supposed to go out to a party in the grad student center which literally everyone else in the dorm was attending, but I just couldn’t make it. I was so tired it hurt. I thought, if I just fell asleep and never woke up, it would be fine. I want nothing more than to sleep forever. Only slightly later did I realize the implications of that thought.

It was the thought of Jenny that snapped me out of it. I know that anything I do to hurt myself hurts her as well. That’s love I guess. Also, I got several people calling/texting me from the party, wondering where I was. I realized that people here care about me already and it was actually kind of touching.

I’m anxious for class to start Monday. Now that I’m here, the downsides to Harvard’s program are becoming more apparent. The classes situation is kind of frustrating, actually. At first glance it appears that there are myriad courses to choose from. However, most of the courses are offered every other year, and since you only have two years allocated to classes, you are kind of driven into a time slot. This is compounded by the fact that general exams happen after the third term, so you have to get all your breadth requirements done in the first three terms. This is usually impossible. Most of the profs don’t seem to make teaching a priority. At many universities, rather than general exams, second-years are expected to complete a Master’s thesis. I can see the appeal of getting the broad knowledge base instead of diving right into original research, but they sure don’t make it easy to get the background you need.

One good thing, on the other hand, is that I am certain that this is the career field that interests me most intellectually. While applying last year, I doubted myself a lot and wondered if I shouldn’t have done English or something. But all the talks on Anthro Day, as well as my conversations with other students and my explorations of the museum collections, have been very inspiring. While I am still concerned about whether I will make it through, I am confident that my failure wouldn’t be because the subject wasn’t right for me. It would be because my temperment and mental health are too fragile for the high pressure careers at the end of this track. I am going to try to work on that, because this is the most exciting, potentially fulfilling thing I can do, and it’s worth staying sane for..

Anthro Noobs!

FAIL of the Week: INDIE/EMO BANDS (or Boston venues?)

Why do bands like to play in Worcester? O_0 Boston is like, much, much cooler.

In particular, they like to play at The Palladium, which features the following schedule for November:

Nov 1: Thursday
Nov 7: The Academy Is
Nov 8 & 9: Dashboard Confessional
Nov 11: Motion City Soundtrack
Nov 18: Bright Eyes

WTF, BANDS? Why do you not come to Boston so I can take the nice $2 subway, instead of shelling out money for a Zipcar or whatever? It must be something about the venues. The Orpheum, where Tori is playing next month, has no GA floor. But let's be honest -- Bright Eyes and Dashboard don't need room for a mosh pit. Come on guys, you're just...not hardcore. We do love you. But seriously.

In the end it's a good thing they're out of the way, as I have neither the time nor money to go to a show every week in November. But I don't have a November concert yet. I'd easily choose Bright Eyes, of the bunch, but it's unfortunately the day after the Harvard-Yale game, which essentially eliminates the whole weekend from my academic calendar.

*ponders*

Well, at least I have Tori and Brand New, which are probably even better.

And, I've discovered the magic of three wonderful bands: Biffy Clyro, Chiodos, and The Fall of Troy. To which I can listen (for free) in the pleasure of my own (free) room.

Which reminds me that I am getting my stipend check tomorrow. Wooohooooo! *dance dance* Crepes with Lauren en la mañana, then a bunch of orientation speeches, workshops, etttttttc. *yawn* Departmental orientation is Thursday, including luncheon and student party. "Anthropology Day," whatever that is, Friday afternoon. I don't know if I'll be up for the shopping trip Lauren P. and Peter have in mind for Saturday....guh. I kind of want to go whale watching that day anyway...if I'm still breathing.

Goal: Stay alive for therapy on Monday.

Goal 2: A packet of instant oatmeal is not dinner. BUY SOME EGGS.

O_O;

Sad news and happy news.

Sad news first.

Happy news next: the wasps are gone, thanks to my Kleenex stuffage, and I went to BU to buy a guitar today!


With mother-of-pearl inlay. It's purty.


I got a case for it , which is hugely heavy. I felt so cool getting on the subway with my guitar! XD I need to think of a name for it.

FAIL of the week: SCREENS.

Ok so, my dorm room is completely awesome. It's awesome. It even, I realized with delight, has a screen on the window.

Ha ha ha.

People who know me well know that I have an almost irrational loathing of stinging insects. This strikes many people as odd considering that I usually like nature, have a lot of outdoor experience, and have, uh, developed a rather high pain tolerance. The prospect of being stung by a bee should not, logically, be a big deal in the scheme of things. But they scare the shit out of me. So it kind of creeped me out last night to notice several hollow yellowjacket corpses festooning my windowsill. Then this morning, just as I was letting my newly polished nails dry, I realized that there were two live ones buzzing around the inside of my open window. WTF. There is a screen on the fricking window. A screen which apparently has a big-ass HOLE in it somewhere, because these are BIG fricking wasps.

What to do. First, I closed the window so that the hundreds more that were buzzing about outside couldn't get in. Then I mustered my courage to trap the intruders under my new shiny clean water glass. I accidentally decapitated the first one, with a pang of remorse. The second one is currently flitting about wildly under the glass on my desk. I don't want to try to put it outside for fear that more will fly in. It's going to suffocate and that makes me sad. But it's me versus him.

It really is bothering me that I can't figure out how they're getting through the screen. I can't see any opening. I really want to keep the window open because it is HOT in here and it's going to be even hotter this weekend, but there is no way I'm letting more of these nasty bitches into my room. They are obviously all living in the huge tree outside. I think at night when they are sleeping I will try to repair the hole somehow.

WHY.

The Dems fail again.

This really annoys me. Some of the Democratic presdential candidates went to a panel on gay rights, and Bill Richardson has the gall to say that being gay is a choice? And it's a choice because he doesn't understand science? Okaaaaay.

What makes no sense to me whatsoever is why so many mainstream Democrats refuse to support gay marriage, but they support civil unions. They must think that supporting gay marriage would keep the religious right from voting for them. Because Billyjoe Redneck is going to say, "Well gee, I was gonna vote for Hillary Clinton, but then she up an' came out in favor of gays marryin' and that's just not right."

Face it, any candidate who is pro-choice (and obviously friendly towards homosexual cohabitation) is not going to win over any new fans regardless of whether the M word is at stake. These people need to get with the program.

I Said It First!

This band LostAlone is SO good. I wouldn't be surprised if they were huge in a year or so. Musically, they're not as woefully emo in style as their unfortunate name, page layout and self-consciously dark song titles suggest. They're more like 80s metal-meets-prog rock-meets-Britpop-meets- emo. Which sounds like a car wreck, but its NOT. It's just what rock should be.

I downloaded Say No to The World. The whole CD is gold. It's rare for an indie-label debut to sound so focused and confident. It's magic when something born of despair is crafted into something to make people happy. Sorry Billy; this is what Zeitgeist should have been.

Listen to the "Gospel" demo on their profile all the way through. It's not on the album, but it's still my favorite song. I have to find a way to listen to it outside of MySpace.

Apparently they're quite big in Germany, rising stars in their native Britain, and unknown in the U.S. They have been nominated for Best British Newcomer in the Kerrang Awards (Kerrang magazine being the foremost hard rock publication in the UK), so I'm not the only one who thinks they're worth something. But I'm the first person on Facebook to tag these guys. I'm sure there will be more when I'm done evangelizing.

Zeitgeist again

For the record, the more I listen to Zeitgeist the more I really like it. This video is probably of interest to no one but me, but it shed some light on the album's production and you can hear part of each song in the background. Billy is so articulate and knowledgeable and Jimmy looks so healthy, it makes me happy.

I miss James though. >>


Smashing Pumpkins - Zeitgeist Track By Track

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Oh Asia.

This amused me.

Just one more reason I worship Toothpaste Drew

toothpastefordinner.com

The Zeitgeist that only kinda sorta arrived: Reformed Pumpkins neither disappoint nor impress

I’m not terribly blown away by the Pumpkins’ comeback album Zeitgeist. It’s worth owning, as a Pumpkins fan, but it’s no Mellon Collie. And it’s clearly trying to be a throwback to that sound, with the emphasis on metallic crunch. It also recalls the lush dark harmonies of 1998's Adore (though not as adeptly) and the strained, almost incoherent overdubbing of their last record, 2000’s Machina: The Machines of God. I liked Machina quite a bit for all its flaws, and loved the extremely underrated Adore. Zeitgeist strives to outdo these two Pumpkin “disappointments” and go back to the hard-rocking days before the group began to splinter in 1996. But, as is to be expected when only half the band bothered to reunite, Zeitgeist gets only halfway there. It’s a good record, but it’s not going to win over any new fans or launch the Pumpkins back into relevancy.

The album opens with the second single, “Doomsday Clock,” which never impressed me when I first heard it, but has grown on me. The lyrics are a little weak – I can’t tell if it’s about the Apocalypse or Billy’s loneliness – and include the phrase “sakes alive!” At first I heard “snakes alive,” though, and realized it could be worse. There are some really strong tracks after that, though. The heavy “7 Shades of Black” has a great riff that sounds like MC's “Where Boys Fear to Tread,” which makes up for the almost too-emo lyrics “how unjust you are/ for bustin’/ my black heart”; “fall in hate with me”), but the track never really comes to a statisfying climax. It just gets better, thought, with the gorgeous “Bleeding The Orchid.” This album highlight sounds like a dark Adore-era melody with a rich Mellon Collie swirling guitar edge, and Billy’s voice really shines on it. Following that is “That’s The Way My Love Is,” a bright and poppy number that sounds like a mix of the better Machina songs. It’s neither deep musically nor lyrically, but it was one of the few songs to immediately demand isolated replay. Then comes good old “Tarantula,” and it’s easy to see why it was chosen as the leadoff single. The interlude guitar solo is the most old-school Pumpkins sound on the whole disk. The punchy, syncopated “Starz” (the obligatory misspelled song – no Pumpkins disk lacks one), is one of the more innovative compositions on here, and while not particularly catchy, it contains the line “What hurts so much is knowing we are free,” which actually made me think.

No Pumpkins release is complete without a 9-minute-plus opus, and this time they serve up the call-to-arms “United States.” Some bands seem suited to political statement– whether born that way like Bob Dylan and Bad Religion, or eventually unable to withstand the despair of the times without a comment, like Bright Eyes and Green Day. Personally, Billy Corgan is one whom I can do without crying “Revolution!” again and again, though the ominous back up “la da das” are pretty awesome. Most of the song’s length is devoted to a feedback-filled interlude uncomfortably reminiscent of Dory trying to speak “whale” in Finding Nemo. Some critics love this song; I really could do without it.

The second half of Zeitgeist really loses steam after “United States.” “Neverlost” is another Adore throwback, with an electronic marimba bassline and repetitive, cycling lyrics. It’s harmless, with a nice little harmony-and guitar-rich nugget of a bridge. In fact, many songs on Zeitgeist, like this one, have strong bridges and weak verses. You wonder how much better they could have been if Billy had crafted the songs from the inside out, making the bridge the main melody. “Bring the Light” is a rather dull pop song with no lyrical or melodic strength to speak of, except a kickass instrumental solo near the end. On the other hand, despite its limited melodic range, I really enjoy the upbeat “Come On (Let’s Go).” “For God and Country” is another anti-Bush song, but that’s about all it’s got to its credit, except, once again, the bridge. The lyrics contain some nice conflicted bits (“It’s time to wake up for good / I can’t help you though I should”), but don’t really go anywhere or culminate in any sort of statement. The final track, “Pomp and Circumstances,” is the only really soft song on here. The instrumentation is unusual, maybe the closest to Enya the band has ever ventured. It’s supposed to be beautiful, and parts of it are, but it doesn’t hit any of the heartwrenching heights of past Pumpkins ballads. Thankfully, however, it’s infinitely less annoying than the graduation song it’s named after. I'd march down the aisle to it any day.

The main things that are ever-present throughout Zeitgeist as a record are: (a) unfortunate song titles, (b) ever-present loud driving guitar fuzz, and most uniquely to the Pumpkins’ catalogue, (c) near constant use of overdubbed vocal harmonies. And I don’t like them. Listening to Zetigeist, one would think Billy’s not that good at arranging or mixing vocal harmonies. But then I remembered the absolutely haunting harmonies on much of Adore (“To Sheila” being the best of these), Siamese Dream’s blissful closers “Sweet Sweet” and “Luna,” even loud stuff like “The End is the Beginning is the End” and “The Aeroplane Flies High,” and most impressively, the old B-side “Dreaming,” a hidden gem which has always made me wish Billy and D’Arcy had recorded more duets. I don’t know why he relies on harmonizing with himself so much this time around; James and D’Arcy rarely played the role in the past; and even on the hugely over-layered Machina, usually one vocal track was enough. But I wouldn’t mind the excess if the man hadn’t apparently lost his ear for it.

In the end, Zeitgeist sounds like exactly what it is: a broken band who wants to rock again, and to do it with a statement. I was kind of pessimistic about the result of a SP reunion, so I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed that they’ve produced a merely “good” album. At this point I’d say it’s on par with Machina overall, but doesn’t measure up to their earlier work. Compared to Machina, Zeitgeist is more even, but less eventful. It really lacks its predecessor’s diversity of sound, and even the best tracks here pale against the splendor of “Stand Inside Your Love” or “Age of Innocence.” Thankfully though, it doesn’t suffer from Machina’s palpable last-legs artificiality or conceptual pretension. In fact, for all its pseudo-politicking, Zeitgeist feels like the least pretentious Pumpkins record since 1991’s Gish. For the first time perhaps ever, Billy and Jimmy sound like they’re enjoying themselves. And that alone is worth the price.