The bright side of a Moon
New music is so cool.
Got to work this morning, turned on the computer, opened up iTunes, and KEXP was playing “Interstate 5” by The Wedding Present, this week’s new favorite song. I’ve heard it every day this week.
As great as it is having an iPod with nothing but my favorite songs on it, there’s still something magical about turning on the radio and hearing a good song. I guess it’s the difference between being in control and being surprised.
Surprises are good.
Just one week left for me as a “Thirty-something”.
The following essay was written to illustrate a metaphor. However, after I wrote it I realized that the metaphor is, well… flawed. It’s still worth sharing, however.
I’ll add this to my “revise later” file.
*****
Is there no choice so wrenching as deciding whether or not to pick up a stray?
Poor little animal. For me, a cat person, stray cats are always the hardest to ignore. They’re often so affectionate, and seeing their dirty coats of fur and often skin-and-bones bodies, and hearing their cries and yowlps… so difficult.
I always try to scare it off. I yell. I make wild arm movements. I jump towards it, run at it. I throw things near — but I’m not an accurate thrower so I rarely continue lobbing things. I don’t want to hurt the poor thing. I don’t want to increase their doubt about us two-legs.
Isn’t that pathetic? I assume that a stray cat has seen humans at their worst; that they’ve been beaten and thrown out into the cold and had to forage for food, that sadistic children have had their fun by heaping torment on the little animals, and that, in spite of all that the animal still seeks assistance from our duplicitous and cruel species.
I consider that the creature’s instincts are generally good, since it’s true that I don’t seek to harm it further, and that I would take it in if I could. Yeah, it’s an ego-stroke to think that a cat can judge my inner qualities. OK, that all is probably just in my head.
Yeah, it’s probably just seeking food or warmth or might even just be bored, saw me walking by and, having vaguely associated my upright form with the basic necessities, started meowing and following me.
Thing is, I’ll never know. Can’t judge motivations well in humans, even with the benefit of sharing a biology and communication, let alone something as alien as a cat. Is it opportunistic? or seeking a higher form of compassion?
At any rate, frightening it off never works. It only draws attention, gets me involved with the thing, rewards its attention with more attention. It will only continue to follow me, since I have now become the most exciting thing it has found.
So, the choice. Can I take it in? And often, the choice is, no. It’s not the right time. I can’t have pets. I don’t want the responsibility. I think of how one-sided it would be — I offer warmth and love and food and care, cleaning up after it, and it gives me… what? What is the return? Intangibles like the comfort of knowing that I helped a fellow creature on this planet. The knowledge that my actions increased, by a tiny fraction, the amount of caring in the world.
And… selfish, I know… but… is that enough?
I mean, it’s a stray. A wild animal. It really isn’t compassionate in the way that humans are. I was only projecting my need for love onto it, giving it credit for higher emotions that it, honestly, probably doesn’t have. It just just as likely to turn on me, scar me and bite me and shit on my floor, as it is to become a gentle loving companion. And it’s likely not to matter how much effort I put into it; the end result is likely to be random.
That’s when I ignore it. I walk away. I stop shouting at it, stop looking at it, even. I continue on my way. I can still hear it behind me, crying. It may even catch up to me and rub up against my legs. I keep walking, going over my justifications in my head.
It’s a cruel choice. I can convince myself that it’s the correct choice. The time isn’t right to take this animal in. I’m not a rescuer.
Just walk away.
Had a good run tonight. Not a great one, but a good one, better than the painful one on Saturday. I managed a good pace for 2.5 miles.
I’m not sure what’s wrong lately, I’m hoping I’m not allergic to my new cat, but I’ve been achey and had sinus and breathing problems, and lately a cough. I’m going to chalk it up to a low-level cold, and hope that it goes away soon. Tonight I didn’t have much trouble breathing, although I still have the sniffles and sneezes, a bit, just a bit.
Apologies for the brief downtime this morning of the site. Caleb’s working on the post mortem. Email was unaffected, it was only the web services that were down.
I had leftovers to bring to work today for lunch… but I ate them this morning. Mmm… cold chile verde for breakfast… almost as good as cold pizza.
No. Strike that. Better than cold pizza.
Warning! Long post!
After a short painful run yesterday (I think I’ve got a cold, since I can’t breathe well and have picked up a cough) on the Waterfront, my first outside run in weeks, Caleb and I got some lunch at La Terrazza (pasta is goooooood) and abused my FlexCar membership to drive 176 miles north. The goal was, of course, to see Harvey Danger play a small club in Seattle to celebrate Christmas and their new EP. Was that confusing? I mean, both the band was celebrating, and Caleb and I were celebrating. We all were, but, y’know, for different reasons.
We left town and immediately ran into bad traffic, having not even gotten out of Portland city limits. An early frustrating start. I have, in the past, made the trip from Portland to Seattle in just over 2 1/2 hours, and was hoping for a similar trip tonight. Because we got a late start in getting out of town, I was banking on it, actually, which is always a bad idea.
Once we got moving, though, I felt better. I blasted north, and Caleb played DJ with my iPod. It’s funny when I let other people play with it, what they come up with. I’m constantly asking, “That’s on there? I have that in my collection? Really?” And Caleb points out that I can’t complain, since everything on there is on there by my choice. Even the ABBA songs, that I have no idea how they got on there.
More bad traffic outside of Tacoma slowed us to a crawl. The show, the show… There were three bands playing, Harvey Danger was the headliner, we were going to the early, all ages show (because Caleb’s still six months away from full-fledged citizenship) and we had never heard of the opening acts and therefore were OK with missing one or both of them. Which was a good thing, since we were going to be late. Also, the tickets were only $10, it’s not like we were going to be out a lot of money if we missed it completely.
Caleb wanted to flip off a Hummer H2 that we saw, all because of a website where people send in pictures of themselves “saluting” the disguised Chevy Tahoes that posers drive. It took several tries but he finally got an acceptable picture. He’s going to send it in. I was worried that the driver would see us and pull out a shotgun or something; Caleb berated me for assuming the driver was male. It was not, it was a smallish woman. Still might have owned a shotgun, though.
On the drive I realized that going for a run when I’m coming down with a cold, then failing to stretch properly and then sitting in a fixed position for three hours is a Bad Idea. My hamstrings will never forgive me. And with the traffic I was unable to use the cruise control so I could properly stretch out my legs. Pain, pain, pain. Between the pain, the frustration of potentially missing the show, and Caleb choosing some angry metal music, I could tell I was heading for a bad mood. I asked Caleb to find some more upbeat music and he came through by queuing up Cake. Cake always makes me smile, even their so-so new album. That was followed up by They Might Be Giants, another good choice for erasing anger.
When we finally got moving again, we were nearly to Seattle city limits. Passed the Boeing plant, and we could see the spectacular downtown, so immensely tall from our vantage point. The day had been clear, and now it was cold but with a small bit of fog. (Yeah, I took plenty of pictures.) The freeway split, and I took what didn’t look like the exit. Unfortunately, we ended up on the “Express” freeway. You know, the one with no exits. Dammit! We were supposed to get off at the Stewart exit. We took the very next exit (a couple of miles down the road), and then came back on surface streets, and, entirely by accident, while looking for a way to get back on the freeway, we ended up on Stewart Street. Such luck! The directions worked from there and we got to the club, the Crocodile Cafe — after the band had taken the stage. The bouncers said they’d just cut off the cover. We could have gotten away with not paying.
The club has a front restaurant area, and another large room with a stage where the bands play. We walked in and Sean was singing a slower version of “Jack the Lion” from their first album (also, apparently, on their EP). We stayed to see the rest of their set, another 4 or 5 songs, plus a 4-song encore. Mr. Nelson bantered with the crowd over a name for the horn section he claims to have stolen from The Long Winters. I hadn’t ever seen the Long Winters with a horn section, so it was news to me. Must be something they’ve added recently…
Someone has posted set lists for both shows on their official site. Here’s the set list of the show we saw:
- Carlotta Valdez
- Sad Sweetheart of the Rodeo
- Old Hat (featuring Megan of Racetrack on backing vox)
- Problems and Bigger Ones
- Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas (Sometimes)
- Wine, Women, and Song
- Jack the Lion
- Why I’m Lonely
- Authenticity
- Plague of Locusts (featuring brass section)
- Meetings With Remarkable Men (featuring brass section)
- Flagpole Sitta (featuring brass section)
- —encore—
- Wrecking Ball (featuring cello player)
- Pike Street/Park Slope (featuring cello player)
- Radio Silence (featuring cello player)
- Diminishing Returns *brand new*
So it looks like we missed a few good ones… still worth it, though. I even snuck a couple of pictures with my camera phone, although they totally suck, out of focus and tiny.
Tiny and fuzzy but you can still make out Sean Nelson’s craaaazy hair. Update 26 January 2022: picture lost like tears in rain, sorry. – Brian M.
After the show we each bought copies of the EP (sorry, all you Christmas shoppers out there; I bought it because I wanted it, and because by buying it at the show the band gets more of the money; support your local artists!) and then we walked to Seattle Center to go up on the Space Needle. I got some awesome pictures of Seattle being enclosed in fog from the observation deck, although it’s difficult to take good pics at night without a tripod. Several of them are blurry when they’re blown up full-sized. I bought a shot glass for my collection.
Wandering around the Seattle Center we were harrassed by a security guard who turned out to be quite apologetic for being so harsh.
Dinner was at a restaurant called Mamma’s Mexican Restaurant. There were either two competing radios in there or someone had been making very strange remixes. My favorite was hearing Radiohead’s “Pakt Like Sardines In a Crushd Tin Box” intermixed with Ton Loc’s “Wild Thing” — they actually worked together pretty well. I fell in and out of love with the waitress, and managed to make her laugh on several occasions, even though she ultimately broke my heart. Her loss, since I was leaving town and likely wouldn’t be back there any time soon. I hope she’s doing OK. Probably drunk and trying to forget today.
Trying to find our way onto the freeway again was troublesome, especially with the fog, so we decided to stop for directions. I was going to ask at a Burger King, but Caleb suggested, instead, a bowling alley across the street. Turns out the guy behind the counter was a character, salt-and-pepper haired and wiry and tattooed in a way that indicated he’d done hard time. His directions were pretty easy to follow and led us through a residential neighborhood and up and down several steep hills, but ultimately got us back on I-5 south.
The drive back was remarkably uneventful. Traffic was light, once past Seattle the fog lifted and did not return, and we only made one stop for a bathroom break and to steal some of the free cookies. Round trip was just under 380 miles. And totally worth it.
Dammit!
I got the replacement battery I ordered today. And tonight, I carefully pried it open (well, not very carefully; poor li’l DeadSexy will forever bear the scars of my prying it open), got the hard drive out (the connector on it it teeny-tiny)…
And it’s the wrong battery. Too big. After studying the pictures, it became obvious. They sold me the wrong battery. Or something. I don’t know, maybe, possibly, I made a mistake.
At any rate I’ll have to send it back next week and exchange it for the right one. Stupid mail-order.
When I’m in my bathroom, putting in my contact lenses, Smacky likes to sit in the sink and lick the saline that falls when I rinse them.
Maybe he’s part cow?
Sometime late yesterday afternoon, someone in my building sent out an email saying that they had a two-person ticket to the preview of “Meet The Fockers” and they were available to the first person to respond.
I shot off an email, but the guy didn’t accept it; he replied back, “First person here gets it.”
I did a quick search and found that he was one floor below me, so I bolted out the door and down the stairs, and asked the receptionist where this guy was located. She pointed me in the direction of his cube. As I headed over, I heard a voice behind me, asking the receptionist “Oh, is he here to see [so-and-so]?” in a disappointed voice. I snagged the ticket, and when I turned around, I saw that the person behind me was Kara, the receptionist on my floor. We went back upstairs.
Then I called around to find someone who wanted to go to the movies with me, and after four calls and a half-hour, I couldn’t find someone who wasn’t busy that night and could go to a movie. Normally I don’t mind going to a movie by myself, but it was a two-person ticket, and Kara is a nice person and almost beat me to the ticket, and, y’know, holiday season and all that… so, seeing that I couldn’t find someone to go with me, I gave Kara the ticket. She took her husband.
And she brought me back a couple of posters for the movie! Coolio. I’ll put one up in my cube and one up in the computer room at home.
I win!
Don’t ask why. I just do.