I don’t get it.  Last week, I went and saw a band called Lucero.  They are an alt-country band, as apparently that moniker has been bestowed upon bands that play punk/country.  I suppose if the shoe fits, I’m fine with it.  The problem I had, this evening, was not with the band.  It was with the hipster crowd.  I follow a Tumblr blog entitled “LATFH” Look At This Fucking Hipster.  I check in on it from time to time and I am amazed by the picures and usually laugh them off as probably somewhat fabricated-I am wrong.  Dead wrong.

I walk into the venue which is outdoors because it’s absolutely beautiful this time of year out here.  This hipster crowd is seriously the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen.  First of all, I really don’t understand how hipsters like this band.  They are a roots-rock band which leads nme to believe tha most people who fancy their music probably resemble me in some way, shape or form.  Ya know, jeans and t-shirt, Chuck Taylors, occasionally a cool plaid button down.  No such luck.  These kids look like a bunch of village idiots.  Their dress is really hard to describe on account of it being so completely contrived even though the point of said wardrobe is to give the illusion that they just threw the first thing on they could find.  However, that can’t be the case-no one dresses that poorly without some sort of alterior motive or, without being stupid in the first place.  These kids wear shirts that are skin tight and usually have one or a combination of the follwoing criteria: 

1-Some sort of podunk town such as Pawtucket or Hebronville.

2-Some God-awful color such as pastel yellow that isn’t pastel anymore or bright green.

3-Some sort of junior high activity that takes place in that town.  (e.g. running laps, flag football or pottery class)

As well, the jeans are skin tight which I’m told are now called “Skinny Jeans.”  Fabulous.  Ususally, they will be wearing flip-flops which is just so sleek.  Now, I wear sandals plenty-when I’m running out to the store or going to have some tacos on a Saturday afternoon but not to a rock show.  And they always have beards.  I don’t understand this new fascination with beards that are completely unkempt.  It’s more like a growth of moss only their whole face must be the north side of the rock.  And, nine times out of ten, there is way too much hair on top of the head held securely in place by a mulit-colored headband. I used to get angry when older people would make fun of younger people’s dress habits.  I suppose I have become that guy now.   Lastly, kind of like a bro, there is always some smoking hot chick on his arm and they are both wearing an expression that let’s everyone know that a) they don’t want to be here and b) they really do understand everything David Lynch is trying to say when he makes a movie.  Except, this understanding doesn’t make them happy, it just confirms their existence on this earth is trite and boring and the expression on their face lets the whole audience know.  Then, after the show, they say the band was “amazing” when asked how they liked the show but the tone in their voice suggests they are angry with you for asking.  

Sigh.  I’m going to watch Mulholland Drive.  But don’t you dare ask me what I thought of it.   

March 28, 2010.  Not today’s date, but a year after the biggest change in my life occurred.  No, it wasn’t the event all of my closest friends are contemplating but rather, a year to the day after I moved away from California to sunny Chandler, AZ.  I woke up on Gabe and Traci’s couch to the sound of the Dude and Traci playing upstaris and immediately noticed that the cats were nowhere to be found-thank God.  We went and got breakfast burritos from Alberto’s and discussed all the current gossip as we always do.  A year ago this day I was trekking across the desert with my Mother, Rich and Mikey in tow.  Not really sure what the desert had in store for me, I forged ahead.  I killed about 1000 yellow butterflies, stopped to use the bathroom about 4 times (thanks Mom), and when I crossed the border I will admit-I was scared shitless.  I knew that soon enough, the three of them would turn around and go back to their lives in California, and I would start my new one in Chandler.  As I crossed the Colorado river, I thought of the memories I had accrued in the last 32 years of my life. Maggots, Michael-you’re eating maggots.  How do they taste?  There were many-but I already blogged about that many, many moons ago.  So, instead of keeping you on the edge of your seat for much longer (doubtful), I will say that this blog, which is sure to become painfully long as well as emo and obvious, will be about the last year of my life-give or take.  I’ve done some growing, as well as some shrinking, and learned more about myself probably than any other year of my life.  I realize that the very concept of a blog is to share one’s thoughts and really nothing more than a selfish cry to others that screams “listen to me!”  However, most of you are accustomed to me doing this while extremely intoxicated or while assuming alternate identities, but this time I’m doing it with no alcoholic influence-and I’m wearing big boy pants.  And just a tad of foundation.

I suppose the thing most prevalent in this last year has been the amount of writing I have done.  For those of you unaware, Todd and I have been writing songs together for the last year-and the material has been a flowin.  Todd sends me chords, I put some lyrics, arrange it a little, and call it a day.  We are still contemplating a name, but I’m partial to Barely Manenough, Troy’s Bucket, or Emo Queers for Christ.  All three are unique in their own right; all three beg to be used.  If I use Troy’s Bucket, I have to give Gabe credit.  EQFC could be viewed as offensive in some circles, so I’m leaning towards Barely Manenough.  It’s simple and to the point.  Not to delve too deeply into it but most of the songs are about the same thing 99% of songs are written about-chicks.  Amazing, considering I don’t date many of them.  However, without going into it, the opposite sex has given me much reason to write this year.  It’s been eventful, to say the least.  Been hurt, been happy, been in between most of the time.  Somehow, though, I managed to live through it all.  Once the record comes out (which Todd says will be “the” album, not sure I agree) you will all understande a little better.  It’s not very ambiguous. 

Who am I kidding?  “Somehow, though, I managed to live through it all.” Negative ghost rider, the pattern is full.  I am well aware of how I got through the ups and downs of the last year-family and friends.  Let’s face it, it’s how I get through the majority of things that happen to me on a daily basis.  I’m emo and proud (?) of it.  I would be nowhere without my friends and family.  During a particularly tough lesson I had to learn this year, I would have normally been by myself to ponder why the hell things happen to people the way they do, but my Dad and my brother were there to see me through and give me some of the simplest, most profound advice I have ever received.  Play golf, cook/eat good food and sleep a lot.  That’s what my dad does since he retired, and I think I admire him now more than I ever have.  For other reasons too personal to go into, but damn, at the end of the day, I hope I end up like him.  Except the knee thing-that looks painful. 

When Mikey and I first moved into our apartment in Riverside some five years ago, the first thing he did was run two loads of bleach only in our washer to clean it out.  I did this same thing on the second night of my tenure here in Arizona and I realized just how much I was going to miss my brother at that point.  In the midst of decorating my place the way I wanted to, sleeping how I wanted, listening to music as loud as I wanted and preparing to answer to no one but myself-it was strange; I just became very melancholy all of a sudden.  That serves as a metaphor for the last year.  I certainly haven’t been depressed by any means, but sad that my friends are now a five hour drive rather than a five minute drive away.  At the same time, happy because I’m really on my own-completely-for the first time in my life.  Thrilled for Tommy, sad for Johnny.  Don’t worry; this is as deep and meaningful as I am going to get.  This dichotomy has been fodder for a lot of thought on lonely nights, though.

I’d be a big jerk if I didn’t mention the best thing about moving out here to AZ.  Well, besides all of the incredibly hot women running around.  I am a 2 hour drive away from my grandparents, my Uncle John and his family.  Briefly attacking this point, being close to my grandparents is one of the biggest blessings in my life.  We’ve had the hap hap happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tapdanced with Danny fucking Kaye.   I learn so much from them and it’s just nice to be with them in general.  One day, my grandmother, grandfather, little cousin Johnny and I went to lunch.  My grandfather brought up the point that it isn’t too often they are able to be with the oldest grandson and youngest grandson at the same time.  It was a nice moment and one of those I will truly never forget.  As well, my Uncle John and I have always been kindred spirits, if you will.  We are similar in stature and more now than ever, I see that we are largely similar in the way we think.  We always looked up to him growing up and he was always the uncle that did all the “kid” stuff with us.  I am truly blessed that I have been able to watch Tyler, Kyle and the J-man grow up, too.  While we’re at it, if I continue to text Tyler ridiculous things while I am having beers with Uncle John and Aunt Cindy (while watching coverbands dance with statuettes from a Dickens novel), then he is sure to never really look up to me-but that’s OK.  It’s enough that I am able to be closer to all of them.  That would never have happened had I not left the comfort zone of California.  And, Chris and I get to go to Chili’s and not leave tips.  That CJ is ruthless, I tell ya.

Well, that’s it-not too emo huh?  I will leave you with some pictures of people who have defined me in some way, shape or form.  Some here, some gone-all special to me.  I mean it when I say I love you all.  Except Ty.  (I couldn’t figure out how to get the pictures at the bottom of my blog so, I suppose I am not leaving you with them, but leading you with them.  Down the primrose path.  There.  I did it.  There is a movie quote in every paragraph of this blog.  Yes, even the second one-even though it was a fragment.)  Oh, and thanks to Dan, Heather, Alex, Ty, Steve, Mikey, Chris C, Chris G, Tim, my Dad, Mom and Rich, Sarah, John and Gonzalo, Lori, the Vengents and anyone else I may have forgotten for coming to visit me-it meant the world.  Sorry, Todd.  I don’t have a single picture of you.