Winter wonderland

Six inches of snow, the kind of candy-shell snow that coats the trees thick and turns their branches into coral reefs, whiter than bone. The kind of snow that defies gravity, sprayed onto the sides of fences and walls and tree trunks like powdered sugar. The city is painted in white, black, and brick red beneath an alien glow.

I went to the gym this morning with Emma. I realized that the last time I went to the gym, it was because it was too hot and humid to run outside. That was depressing. It sure felt good to work out, though. There are worse ways to start the morning than with some Billy Idol and a half-hour of cardio.

I spent eight hours on my China take home. I could have easily done it in six if I'd been worried about time, and maybe four if I'd studied beforehand instead of during the test, but whenever Rowan Flad says "it shouldn't take more than three hours of your time," he means of his own time, were he taking the test, which he constructed himself. Rowan is a dear, but wow. On the other hand , I think it was the most enjoyable final exam I've ever taken and the one I expect I will retain the most information from. When I am a teacher, instead of making the kids memorize a bunch of facts and spit them all back out in one (three-hour) moment of truth, I'm going to allow them to go back through their notes while answering the questions. This way they can learn the salient information by re-incorporating it into essays and re-reading power point lectures while not freaking out because they got confused between Xiaotun and Xibeigang. Kudos, Rowan. I might actually remember something about China now. Though I guess when you spend EIGHT HOURS on something, you remember it.

I've been sleeping really badly, which is odd, because I'm less stressed than I have been for awhile. It may be because I have so many fun tasks to plan on the horizon. I don't know. While reviewing Chapter 4 of Bodies in Flight, I was disheartened by how weak it was, and I considered eliminating an entire scene, which at the time felt humorous but now just comes across as kind of weird and pathetic. But I can't decided if I should polish the scene and ask people for feedback to see if they agree, or if I should just go ahead and cut it.

I quite like it here.

The approaching reprieve

A lovely, sunny day, though besmirched by two disappointments. I went to The Garage to review China notes in Starbucks, and luckily snagged a comfy chair. Of course, I couldn't go to The Garage without swinging by Hootenanny, since they were having a sale. I was hoping to spend my Visa gift card on a pair of the black Vans slip-ons with cute blue sharks on them, which I've liked since I arrived in Cambridge. Alas, though they were $29, they had no more in my size. Bummed out. After finals I think I'm going to make a trip to the mall, Faneuil Hall, and Newbury Street to properly browse stores. Then I tried to get tickets for Band of Horses on the 23rd, never thinking they'd be SOLD OUT, but they were, being a small venue. Well damn. If Tom hadn't been so "Oh maybe, let's check after Christmas" about it, I'd have gotten them right away. Definitely not worth the $100 on ebay. That's what happens when a little indie band suddenly explodes. No tickets for you.

However, I'm still feeling nice and relaxed and eager for semester break to begin. I have a list of ten things to do between January 16-30:

1. Contact Nancy and see if she and Rick want to do dinner.
2. Hang out with Guy, Ilana, and April.
3. Go to the gym four days a week with Emma.
4. Spend my gift cards on aforementioned shopping trip, perhaps with Peter.
5. Spend two hours a day editing Bodies in Flight.
6. Finish incomplete fanfiction, and begin my Bleach RP. It's writing practice. Right.
7. Spend unspent concert money (grr) on seeing Juno and There Will be Blood.
8. Spend one hour a day on free reading. First comes Dave Eggers.
9. Keep up with InRe, and start greeting card designs for Cafe Press.
10. Reorganize closet and move some stuff into my lab

Unfortunately, it is supposed to be cold starting Monday. Le woe.

Re: New Hampshire

For some reason, I'm really happy Clinton won New Hampshire.

It's not because I want her to win the generals. Not only don't I think she'd be a better leader than Obama; I'm not sure she's as electable. It's not unlikely that McCain would flatten her, though it's true the other Repubs probably wouldn't make much of a dent. It's not because I watched a video of her tearing up and felt a pang of feminine sympathy for her; yeah, she felt genuine for the first time in awhile, but it's the exception that proves the rule. It's not because her husband is a charmer who sets every Bush-hating heart waxing nostalgic; the last thing this country needs is to return to the partisan mud-slinging festival that was the Clinton Presidency.

It's because I don't want to see her broken. She's a woman who has lived under a constant barrage of attacks, mostly for no good reason. The fence-sitting politician she has become is a direct result of the merciless hatred she has combated for fifteen years. I like both candidates and I hate to see another Democrat get ridiculed by the press the way Clinton would have been had her emotional moment preceded sound defeat instead of victory. I want Clinton to go home from this race feeling like she was well-received and respected, not humiliated. I will still choose Obama in February, but I'm happy he won't be getting a free ride. And no matter who is left standing, I'll proudly get behind him or her.

A week into 23...

Long time no update! But I found myself an otherwise-unproductive half-hour between a lunch filled with rich discussion and my upcoming group meeting, and there is much to say on all fronts.

First things first. Through many changes of mind and heart in turn, I've decided to stay at Harvard next year after all. For one, the timing of trying to find a job in Boston for June while signing a lease sometime this spring is just tricky, and there aren't that many jobs I can do that would be any more enjoyable than school. Even if I opened up the field to include San Francisco and L.A., that makes the logistics of the future even more complicated and foreboding. Perhaps the worst thing for me to do for my mental health would be to thrust myself through asteroid belt of logistics into a black hole of uncertainties. I don't hate my schoolwork. I ust hate it when I feel like I'm being trapped into a career that isn't me or that is compromising my artistic identity. If I just treat school as my job at the moment, and take assignments maybe a mite less seriously, it's a pretty good deal.

The primary reason, perhaps, that I don't want to uproot myself is the fact that my social life is richer than it's ever been before. Outside of my department, which is a good place in its own right, I now have two solid, awesome, large groups of friends. I call them "Second Floor" and "Fourth Floor" crews, but really they both cross floors and even dorms. "Second Floor" consists of Emma, Philip, Matt, Mauricio, Lindsey, Natalie and Julian (who are kind of separate now sine they became an item and spend every minute together) Albert, Atanu, Ashley, and others. We meet in the South Kitchen where I proceed to devour the remains of the Classics Happy Hour snacks while the rest of them top off the drinks and Lindsey tries to do work.

Tangential to the Second (2FC) is my new rock band, The Vinyl Pants, which developed out of a particularly festive South Kitchen Friday night. There are Albert and Billy, Atanu, Garga, and Gourab, Andy, and me. Plus perhaps some Emma and other occasionally contributing 2FC members. After our next band practice I think I will make honor the VPs with their very own post.

"Fourth Floor" is my first group and will always hold a place in my heart. Peter was my key into this group, and remains my beloved neighbor and shopping buddy, the best excuse to go into an Abercrombie that ever walked the earth. Tom is my soulmate. Then there are Myrna, Maria, Lisa, the other Tom, Rob, Chris, Bens Woodring and Robbins, Giorgio, Kyle, Lauren, and the dearly departed Bryan, whom we all miss. Memorable 4FC activities have included our Christmas (Except You, Robbins) Party, the Harvard-Yale game, and Queen's Head Wednesdays.

It's interesting to compare the two groups. I enjoy spending time with both of them equally, but for different reasons. When I hang with the 4FC, we often get ourselves embroiled in deeply fascinating conversations about academic, philosophical, or political matters. This rarely happens in 2FC, which can be taken as both a pro and a con of each group. I think this difference owes itself to the fact that 4FC hails from a more diverse group of majors and has more Europeans in it. In 2FC, y contrast, we insult each other a lot, with very, very quick humor. The whole thing resembles some offbeat sitcom. We laugh a lot. We make music.

I love my friends.

On the academic front, my lab sample request has been submitted, and my llama domestication paper has been turned in. I'm drowning in Japanese archaeological thought at the moment and wishing I'd chosen to write about anime. On Sunday, from noon to midnight, is our China take-home final. I have no idea what to expect from that, but afterwards I have a full week to write my five- to seven-page China paper. From the 18th to the 30th, I have no obligations, save whatever labwork becomes possible that early on, band practice, toning in the gym with Emma, editing NaNoWriMo, roleplaying, and hanging out with aforementioned friends.

Finally, the PRIMARIES! This sure has turned out to be an exciting race. I'm pretty happy with the way things have been going. I really like Obama, but I wish I liked him more. People are finally starting to acknowledge Edwards, though I'm sure he won't win, and Clinton...well, I have to say, I'm not terribily surprised. What party is dumb enough to nominate a candidate that so many people (through no fault of her own) hate? I happen to think Hillary would be a good President, but it will be nice to have a reprieve from the Clinton-Bush family feud. I suppose honestly it's still anybody's game, though I'd all but bet my paycheck on Obama, and do it with a smile.

On the Republican side, while none of the candidates are remotely reasonable, at least autocracreep Giuliani and numbskull Romney have been knocked off their frontrunner perches. Huckabee is a nutcase, and would make a sickening President, but I think the electorate -- and even his own party -- know that and won't let it happen. McCain's war stance made me lose a lot of respect for him, but I've always admired his environmentalism and felt bad for what he suffered from the Bush campaign in 2000. He's always been my pick for lesser of nine evils. The flip side of that is, if too many independents like him enough, he might be able to pull votes away from Obama, which would be really lame.

It was 65 degrees this afternoon in Cambridge. Crazy, crazy world.

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.