April 27th, 12:34 a.m. 56 Degrees. Welcome to S.V.S.U.

Ice Cube was right. Flub the police. But he was wrong because they do not only hate on teenagers because they are brown. But they also hate on them because some nineteen-year-old Polish kids can not ride bikes properly in poorly lit areas.

Not to shock anyone. But I am that nineteen-year-old Polish kid. And in my defense. It was a new bike. Well not really "new" in the sense of recent. Because the bike is older than disco. But it is new in the sense that this was the first time I have taken it for a spin, or pedal. Or whatever bike quip applies here.

This bike was purchased for me at a garage sale last summer by my mother. In her words over the phone as she bought it, she told me, "It is a little old, but it is a Schwinn. It is a good quality bike."

I found out my mom kind of lied a bit. And by a bit. I mean a lot.

First thing I noticed was that the tires were thinner than Snooki's attention span. Second thing I noticed was that the rear brakes were not fully there. Meaning the brake wire was severed. Winning. Third thing I noticed was that I still have quadriceps like Lou Ferrigno (he's the Hulk).

I thought I was just going to trek around the FYS and chain the bike to a closer bike rack. But I decided, no. I am going to exercise for the first time since the Vietnam War. So before I knew it, I began traversing the campus.

The campus for the most part is adequately lit. Except for the area surrounding the Campus Police station. It's like rain on your wedding day, and good advice that you just didn't take. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think? Look, it is not every day you can slip Alanis Morissette lyrics in a conventional paragraph. This was one of those days. So suck it.

To bring you back to par with this story...

I have no rear brakes.

This Campus Police sidewalk is poorly lit.

And has a broken/ un-even sidewalk.

Yeah you guessed it. Boom goes the dynamite.

I spot the huge disparity of sidewalk about 3 seconds before contact. So I think, "Yeah I can hop this!" Turns out, well no I can't. I was about three feet away from going full on closing scene from E.T. I did the splits in the mud, and I thought I lost my index toe. (By the by, I am barefoot during all of this, because shoes suck).

I then get up to see a Campus Police S.U.V. or Sports Utility Vehicle. With two blue shirts in it or Cops. I figured since they were 20 feet from where I biffed it, they would have at least asked if I was okay.

Instead I saw the Cop riding shotgun tap his partner on the shoulder, and gave him the "Hey look at that jackass" finger point. For the initial thirty seconds of comprehension after that, I realized I was Ice Cube. Like full on.

My bike ride continued though. And then I almost got hit by a car. Given I would have been at fault because I shouted, "Have no brakes. Just turn!" Then something horrible happened. I....

lost all battery power in my iPod.

When that occurred I had just passed two girls walking. And I also shouted out a phrase that rhymes with "small smack pick puck". They thought I directed it at them. Rather, it was directed at my iPod. Cleverly named, "I am Aaron's iPod, and your not" in homage to Chevy Chase. For dying right when I was about to kick it into overdrive with some Stooges and Raw Power.

In pain, I retreated back to the dorm.

But as I made my way back to them dorm, I spotted my intellectual foe Cuppa' Joe.

And I flicked him off.

So if I may, let me end this post with a quote from the Comic Book Guy...

"Worst Greatest bike ride ever!"

And on a lighter note, I found the perfect name for my new-ish bike.

E.T.

It is green too.

So in a way. I did not even end this post in a Comic Book guy quote.

Inception.

Day 14. Song That Makes You Wish You Were A Rock Star

When I was in single digits year wise. All of my first musical memories revolved around the Beatles. Specifically two albums, Help! and A Hard Day's Night. Those two albums were practically my nursery rhymes.

I remember being captivated by all of them. I remember watching music videos of them that my dad recorded on VHS and I was just hooked.

I fancied myself a drummer when I was a young chum, so I connected most with Ringo the most. I remember watching the movie Help! and realizing that he had this huge ring. So I had to go to the party store next door to me and by red ring pops, because they resembled that ring Ringo wore in the movie.

I always used to get my hair cut like them, I used to dress like them, I used to think I was them.

I even remember singing a Beatles song karaoke style at a bar in Frankenmuth when I was like 8. I was hardcore man.

That is why whenever I think of a song that makes me wish I was a rock star, I think back to my favorite Beatles song of my younger days. A song that I have sung and is documented on family film with a plastic guitar. A song that made me truly wish I was a rock star.

Sing along if you know it....

"It's been a Hard Day's Night..."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cD4TAgdS_Xw

Everything about this song is perfect to a six-year-olds ears.

Music Picks For The Week

For this week I am going to share albums and or songs that I have found on a pretty amazing website called freemusicarchive.org. It is completely legal music from virtually unknown and obscure independent bands and artists. And a music nerds dream location to find random music.

So here are my favorite albums and or songs that I have found on Free Music Archive:

1. Voice Of Christmas Past (23 Original Vintage Recordings From 1898 to 1922)- This might be my favorite album ever. This is definitely a record of dubious origin (boot-leg), but it is amazing. These are pretty much the first Christmas songs ever recorded. And it is a piece of history really. Also there is a version of Noel (Holy Night) by the Venetian Trio that is so peaceful and beautiful
2. The Victor Herbert Orchestra- Edison Cylinders- Another record of dubious origin. This is a phonograph rip and it is great industrial America early 20th century music.
3. Albert Beger- Big Mother- This is like Brian Eno meets jazz. It is a really interesting album. Good easy listening music.
4. Feu Machin- Kojotl Beat- This is a 5:34 predominately guitar-loop led instrumental. No lyrics or words. Just awesome.
5. Holy Coast- Self Titled- This album I found mind blowing. It is folk, it is garage, it is a lot of things. And it blends so well together. I love this album.
6. Kevin Purvis- Ain't No Reason To Write No Letters- Bluesy and folksy album. Really good song writing. Better than a lot of popular music today. And it is a very intimate album.
7. Kingface- Live at Washington DC's 9:30 Club, 1988- This one of the best live garage/punk albums I have ever heard. For real. The lead singer sounds like the guy from Reel Big Fish. This album is just in your face the whole time. You feel the mosh pit.
8. Los Negretes- Los últimos diez minutos  de Maria Duval- This is a Spanish punk band. All of the songs are in Spanish. Everything is Spanish. I can not understand a single word. But I flibbing love it.
9. Means- The Divine Right of Means- This is like a combination of the Hives, White Stripes, and Arctic Monkeys. Really good garage album.
10. The Munitionettes- Fast Jurassic- A poors man Hot Chip. Really cool. Punk/Progressive/Chip/Garage album.
11. Mystic Morison Visions- Fuzzy Set- Like I have stated before, this Russian band is like Rush backwards. It is prog-jazz and it is so refreshing to listen to.
12. Motorama- Alps- This a really well organized modern Indie record. There one song in particular (Compass) that I really love. It gives me a real Joy Division/Cure vibe.
13. Sendelica- The Mellow Mushroom Cosmic Cloud- I.... I do not know how to adequately describe this album.
14. Stems- Stems- Great Indie lyrics. Great garage album. Free Music Archive is the mecca for fantastic garage bands.
15. Stephan Siebert- Stephan Siebert- Let me just leave you with the album description this German jazz/piano player left for his description:

"musik ist eigentlich ein individuelles mittel zur kommunikation von dem, wofür es keine worte mehr gibt es auszudruecken.
gefuehl zu gefuehl … seele zu seele.

direkte beruehrung des wesenhaften."

Which translates to...

"music is actually a means for communication of the individual, for which there are nowords to express everything there is.
a soul feeling to feeling ... soul.
direct contact with the intrinsic."

Best description for music I have ever heard.

Day 13. Song that inspires you

Now, instead of posting these on my facebook, I actually think I am going to post them on here. And tell you a little bit about each song and why I picked that said song. And I think starting it on this day is perfect, because it is about a song that inspires me.

Obviously, Beatles songs pop into my mind first, as I grew up on them because of my dad. But I like to go with a pick that people may not expect. But before I reveal that pick, let me build the suspense for awhile.

What I look for in an inspiring song is very very simple. I search for substance, for a story, for poetry, for emotion, for musicality and for complete and utter simplistic beauty.

That is why my whenever I feel the need to get inspired I listen to a song that fits all of those criteria and maybe 1000 more that I can not think of.

That song is Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits.

Let's talk shop now. This song is absolute beauty and perfection. Like first crush and high school beauty and perfection.

The song is about that one love story written by that one Bill guy. And ever since then, that concept of boy loves girl but they can never be together has been the used as the plot line in every romantic comedy every which way a thousand times ever.

But this song is more than that. So much more than that.

The first time I heard this song was in the movie Empire Records. I actually had to pause the credits to see what the name of the song and band was. I saw Dire Straits and I knew that name sound familiar. And I remembered that my dad had a Dire Straits greatest hits CD. So I looked at the track listings on the CD and saw that Romeo and Juliet was on there and the rest was history.

But I really find this song inspiring, because when I write it is hard to be original. And when I am in a rut I listen to this song and realize originality can come from the most un-original places. And that makes writing ten times easier.

Also this song  has one of the best lyrics ever:

When you can fall for chains of silver, 
You can fall for chains of gold,
You can fall for pretty strangers 
And the promises they hold.
You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin, yeah!
Now you just say, "Oh Romeo? Yeah, you know I used to have a scene with him".



Absolute beauty.


Here are three links to this song. In my order of favorite versions. First there a Marl Knopfler (lead singer of Dire Straits) solo version with a string quartet intro. And it is absolutely lovely. And emotional. Second, is the original. And third, is a cover the Killers did of the song. It is quite possibly the best cover I have ever heard.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7GJgncybV8&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxfjSnMN88U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McnTmRqNzBs

Inspiration at its finest.

My First Attempt At Writing Fiction

     This is a short story that I had to do for creative writing. It is my first legitimate attempt at fiction. And this is by no means a final draft. This story is definitely in the tweaking stages, and if it was not for Caroline this story would still be without a title. I just added the part about the polaroid of her on the cork board today. I still feel that this is one and a half scenes away from being a decent story. So tell me what you think...

Light My Fire

The sun was sinking into the ocean in front of him. He gazed out onto the sea, absorbing its beauty and its simplicity. He began to notice things he never did before. He saw how the seagulls scoured the grainy sand, searching for the smallest particles of food left behind from the beach-goers, like a bum rummages through trash searching for a remotely edible object to sooth their hungry stomachs. He noticed how the waves chased after each other, almost in taunting fashion. Then he cynically judged the waves as if they were human. He thought to himself, “What’s the point, they are all just going to crash and die when they hit the beach shore.”

He continued to fall deeper into hypnosis as he stared out onto the cascading whit caps. Noticing and judging the most insignificant things that his eyes wandered over to. He subconsciously knew what he was doing though. He knew that he was only doing this so he did not have to look down at the disappointment in front of him on his computer screen.

Then he began forcing it, he began to asphyxiate his mind on anything he could. The dirty dishes in the sink, the old greasy pizza boxes that littered the living room floor, the papers and magazines that were stacked on top of each other doing there best imitation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Then he looked at the barren shelves that those same magazines where leaning against. He began wondering why he never got around to organizing them. It was at that point he realized the reason why he never got around to filing all those things, was the same reason why his clothes had began stockpiling in his bedroom, and it was the same reason why he never threw away that picture of her, that was taped to the cork board next to his desk.

It was his favorite picture of her, because it was silent. In that black and white Polaroid all he was reminded of was her simplistic beauty, and how she resembled an innocent and naive actress from the 1930’s. He noticed every little crevasse of her beauty. But the more he examined it, the more emotion it got. He began to hear her voice speaking to him, ridiculing him. He heard her vindictive voice calling him unintelligent, and un-talented. He was reminded of all her critiques and “constructive criticism” which was just her excuse of belittling his work.

Then as all his negative memories were rushing in, he looked into her eyes. Those radiant eyes that made him fall in love with her the instant he saw her. And then the picture became silent again. And once again she was beautiful.

Before he let the pain of that night re-enter his mind, he finally decided to look at the computer screen in front of him. He hoped that through some act of divine intervention there would a magnificent story in front of him. He hoped it was the magnum opus he had always searched to create.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head toward the screen. He could not bare the suspense. He found himself slowly opening one eye, like a child does when they are getting a surprise. Then finally he opened both of his eyes as wide as he could.

He glared at the computer screen; he did not see a work of art. He did not see a literary masterpiece that his editor could proclaim as genius. All he saw was a small black vertical line blinking on a white blank page. There it was appearing and vanishing, reminding him that he had yet to write a single word. That blinking line just stood there, solitary and alone just like him.

*****

            As he sat at the bar, he realized that this was the change of scenery he needed. He no longer felt a slave shackled to his desk chair. He was no longer toppled with stress; he was finally able to breathe. Something he felt he had not been able to do for hours.

            He was no longer alone; he was surrounded by drunken baboons, and recluses just like him. They were all there to share each others misery. But the men used the ball game and the women used the hope of finding Mr. Right as excuses to cover up their insecurities and reasons why they were truly there.

            A handful of women approached him throughout the night. But he dispelled and rejected their attempts of compassion. He judged them and he scanned them up and down with his eyes. None of them looked like her, none them could even hold a candle in comparison. He thought as he looked them over.

So he just sat there on a torn up pleather bar stool, entrenched in a conversation with his closest friend. Someone who took away his pain someone who helped him forget someone who made things better. In his mind his glass of Jack Daniels could do those things better than anyone at that bar. Hell, better than anyone in the world.

As he started filling his body with liquid courage, he glanced over to the far side of the bar. There sat a beautiful brunette, with skin smoother than marble counter tops, and eyes as piercing as the dagger that killed Juliet.

He was fascinated by her and he could not get enough of her. Her perfume seemed to travel through the bar and politely find its destination right under his nose. And in those moments that scent was more intoxicating than whatever concoction he had put in his body that night.

She reminded him of her.

He knew that scent was all too familiar, and that those eyes had inter-locked with his before. At that moment the heartbreak had reappeared in him. He felt the helplessness as she left him. He felt like a million broken pieces of a man he once knew. A man who people once called brilliant, a man a woman once loved.

He was no longer any of these in his mind. He felt as if he was the living personification of the main character in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. He was not suitable for such a woman. The distance between them in bar stools might as well have been eternities. As there was no chance that he would approach that woman at the bar, for he already knew how that tragedy would end, in his inadequate heart breaking once again.

So he just sat there now in a nervous sweat. Playing devils advocate to his emotions.

“Do I send her a drink?” He thought.

“Or do I approach her?” He contemplated further.

He had no mirror to look into to simulate his approach. He only had a small notebook and pen, in the breast pocket of his sports coat. He fumbled for it, and pulled it out. He flipped through the already occupied pages. Some of which were poems, others ideas for his work that either he or his editor deemed “rubbish.” Finally, he found a blank page on which to write.

He scribbled down everything that came to mind, all the cliché pick-up lines, all the faint attempts at humor, all of the elaborate back stories he could think of to make her want him. After the brainstorming process subsided, he looked over his notes like a student cramming for a test. He noticed he had not written down anything helpful. All he managed to compose was a short poem that he felt captured him in that exact moment.

The anxiety builds when I see your face,

My heart races at the most uncontrollable pace.

My mind goes blank and my vision goes white,

Why must this happen when you are in my sight?

Is it the fear of rejection, or the inevitable hurt?

Either way, I just stay in the background kicking the dirt.

And when I finally find the most perfect words to say,

I choke and write it down and hope I have the courage for another day.

            He looked it over and thought, “What good is this? This will not impress her.” He did not think that those words were good enough for her. He felt he needed something that would make her fall in love with him instantly, something to fill her eyes with passion and her heart with lust. He needed a series of words that would by-pass all of the useless banter between them, and place them intertwined with each other as they made love. To him those words would do no such thing.

            But, those were the only words he had come up with, they were the only words he had. It was either send them over to her in hopes she might look them over and shoot him a glance from across the bar.  Or even walk over and say that the poem was “cute”. But he did not want cute, he wanted a woman suitable enough to finally make him forget about her.

            So after a couple more glasses of Jack, he signaled over the bartender.

He brought him in close, and he exuded the copious amounts of whiskey he consumed throughout the night in every pore of his skin. 

“I want you to give this to the lovely brunette at the end of the bar.” He said soberly to the bartender.

The bartender seemed confused. He looked around quizzically as he was cleaning a tall beer glass.

“What woman?” the bartender asked.

“That woman over there!” He violently pointed with each word. He could not understand why the bartender could not comprehend such a simple request or also be struck by her beauty.

The bartender then studied him over.

“What time do you think it is?” The bartender asked.

He was taken back by the bartender’s question. Not because of its profound nature, but because of its sheer stupidity.

“I’d say no later than one in the morning.” He replied.

Then the bartender braced both his arms on the bar and hung his head down. He had dealt with these types of people before. The ones who think a night of debauchery can solve all of life’s problems. And that knocking down hard whiskey was the best method of soothing ones soul.

“Six, it is six in the morning.”

The bartender said pointing at the clock after every word.

That made no sense to him. He could not grasp how he had been there for so long. Then after that finally sunk in, he realized there was no such girl at the end of the bar. It was just his drunken imagination. He became ill to the thought of his mind tricking him into believing there was even the slightest chance of someone actually being able to replace her.

*****

As he walked up the steps of his front porch, the sun was rising. The same sun that he saw step-by-step fade into the night hours before. He felt himself sobering up and capable of anything he could put his mind to.

This was a far cry from the man he knew the day before.

He finally had the courage to do what had been on his mind for what seemed like months since she had left him. He finally was going to let her go. He went through the house grabbing anything that reminded him of her and put in a trash can. He then lit a match and set fire to it.

He then walked up to his room. He put on his favorite record. He pulled up a chair, took of his belt and hung himself.

His body faced the window by his desk that had helped him drift off before.

On that desk sat his computer with the document from the night before open, and the cursor flickering from white to black.

And as the flames overtook his house he had finally burned the last thing that reminded him of her.

Full On Capuano

Today in my creative writing class, I was able to say something I have not been able to say for awhile. And it felt amazing. That phrase was, "I just pulled a full on Capuano when I was writing this."


Now to rewind the clock six years and to how this phrase came to be. This glorious phrase was born in the hallways of Harper Woods Notre Dame High School. There was a scholastic competition amongst many catholic grade schools. Every competition was divided up by subject and each individual person only competed in one subject (English, Math, Music, etc.)


And SIJ went all out to represent themselves in the English./Writing competition. It was Sam Eovaldi, John Capuano, and Me.


We had a prompt to write about. And that prompt was "Decisions, What was the toughest decision you have had to make so far in your life?"


I wrote about baseball, I forgot what Sam wrote about, but John unleashed a great Capuanoism when I asked him what he wrote about. And to this day I remember his response verbatim.


"I could think of a tough decision I have had to make, so I wrote about how the toughest decision I had to make was deciding what to write about for my toughest decision."


When he said that I literally thought it was the most genius thing I had ever heard in my life. I also laughed my ass off.


Sadly, Cappy did not win. 


He really should have though.


And funny John Capuano moments are like White Castle burgers. You just can not have one.


So I will share a few other moments in which John Capuano made me laugh to the point of tears.


Here are my top three Capuano moments:


3.) One time during SIJ lunch Bill was making note of the attractiveness of John's sister. John asked him to stop. Bill did not. John then lunged like a fricking Gazelle over a lunch table and tackled Bill demanded he shut up.


2.) At I think it was Jackie's like 13th Birthday party, there was a bunch of people out in the backyard around the bonfire. And John was fresh off of reading the Da Vinci Code and he would not stop talking about church and government conspiracies. And the Discovery Channel.


1.) In 9th grade I got in a "tift" with some people from Lakeview. Well, one person in particular then it morphed into "my friends" vs. "them" I was still at De La Salle, and my friend Bill wanted to go to the Lakeview football game one week after I got in a fight with one of the guys. The one thing I told him was, "If someone says your name, do not even acknowledge them." Sure as shit the first thing Bill does when he hears his name is turn around and go, "Huh!" 


After that it was on so to speak. We bailed quick. And we comically chased. And the whole entire time this was happening Capuano was on the phone with his sister and she was telling him that everyone in the stands could see us running away. To which John said, "Are you serious! I can not go to school on Monday now! This is so fucking embarassing, I am going to get so much shit for this."


This is why I miss Johnny Boy.


And I was proud I got to pull a full on Capuano in his honor today.


But nobody can do them like John.

Music I Am Diggin'

You know, I think I am going to make this a weekly thing. Every Sunday I shall post 10-15 songs and or albums that I have been listening to in heavy rotation. And like last week I shall post one cheese-tastic '80s video that I have come across in the past seven days.

So here is the list for this week.

1. R.E.M- Not necessarily just one album of theirs. But pretty much everything they have done. If you have heard their new album, go out of your way to listen to it.
2. Sheryl Crow- Tuesday Night Music Club- No, I am not kidding. This is a really good '90s pop album. And you can make fun of me for saying that. But when you are driving and "All I Wanna Do" comes on you know you are singing that chorus.
3. The Zombies- Odessey and Oracle- Kind of only known for only having "Time of the Season" on it. Which is kind of a shame, because this whole album is just groovy.
4. The Strokes- Under The Cover of Darkness- To be honest, I am not huge fan of their new album. But this song is just good old Strokes at their finest.
5. The Red Hook Gamblers- The are an underground Big Band... band. That alone should make you love them or at least look them up.
6. The Polka Floyd Show- Live!!! At The Ohio Theatre- It is Polka. It is Pink Floyd. It is the greatest thing you will ever here in your lifetime. And the lead singer in a Pirate. Which on paper seems odd, but when you look at the grand scheme of things it makes sense. You just can not make these types of things up. Just let the youtube link speak for itself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSvrIZelXG0&feature=related
7. Passion Pit- Manners- To re-hatch a former facebook status I posted, "Passion Pit is the bee's knees. That Is All Carry On."
8. Foo Fighters- Wasting Light- I have had this album for 8 days. I have already listened to it (in its entirety) 14 times. And I have listened to "Bridge Burning" 22 times. Yeah.
9. The Cool Devices- EP- They are the offspring of a romantic relationship between R.E.M. and the Hives.
10. Bad Brains- Bad Brains- Spun this on vinyl on Monday. My word. My Word.
11. Iggy and The Stooges- I am a firm believer that if you do not listen to at least one Stooges song per week, then that week did not exist.
12. Black Flag- Damaged- Right after I listen to Bad Brains I automatically have to listened to Henry Rollins just scream at me. Weird? Possibly. Greatest thing to happen since sliced bread? Well yeah.
13. Half Japanese- Put Some Sugar On It- Every time I listen to them I do not want the songs to end.
14. Polaris- Music From The Adventures Of Pete & Pete- Okay, this has to be considered one of the best albums of the 1990's. I am serious as a heart attack. This album is so flib flabbing good. "Hey Sandy" is more 1990's than the Chicago Bulls. Yeah I went there.
15. Third Eye Blind- Third Eye Blind- Another ridiculously under rated and under appreciated album. Shame on people for not liking this album more.

And now for the cheesy '80s video..... Drum roll..............

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LatorN4P9aA

Journey- Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) aka: SOO '80s.