The Death of Superman

I tried writing this post once before. I was ready for it, but for some reason something wasn't right, and so I left. Maybe the timing was off.

Awhile back, way before I started reading Chuck Palahniuk, I came across something that sent chills running down my spine. It was a work by Ernest Hemingway, a flash fiction piece he wrote to settle a bet with some drinking buddies. It went like this -

For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

They wanted a novel in six words. I imagine they got more than they waged for.

I also read that in his senility, he took his life with a shotgun blow to the head. I don't think I've been the same since.

It's terribly numbing to hear things like this for me. You read about these people who do what you dream about, and then hear how they erase themselves, perhaps not even knowing the scope of their influence. Not knowing how important they were.

And maybe there's good reason behind each story. Depression, addiction, heartache. Maybe. Maybe at that point, when they had to decide whether this was all worth it or not, the thing everyone else saw and what they saw didn't line up. Maybe the timing was off.

I wonder if they regret it.

Right at the point you realize there's no going back, there has to be a split second of lucidity. In that moment, the depressed can feel and the brokenhearted are whole.

There's got to be something like that going on in those milliseconds before death.

Maybe not.

Maybe there's just violent jerking or useless flinching or empty gasping before the dead silence. Before the walls are painted with shame and secret and bits of skull and brains. I'm sure there would be regret if they saw what we saw.

I wonder if that's why we've never heard from Superman, though. He's probably seen what it means to be special. To be adored. It means nothing really. Because Cobain was a modern day poet, but in the end we couldn't save him. And similes never hit as close as Plaith's, but not even our medication could keep her from her demise.

Maybe that's why Superman has never shown.

Or maybe he has, but he's gone just the same.

For the seconds he was here, he made their lives better. He showed them what love is... shared with them the things they crave - good music, good reads, prime time things - but he couldn't stay, because the love was too uneven. The love he gave wasn't in line with the love they gave. And when he had to make a decision about whether all this was worth it or not, he did. And in the milliseconds of lucidity, when the heartbreak turned to love and the weight of the world never seemed so light, he knew what he did was done.

I'm sure he regrets what he did. But he had no choice. The timing was off.

My Morning Jacket - Z

Did anyone else see the horse race today? I like watching the major horse races and the talk with everyone was how the mighty Zenyatta would do. Long story short, she was undefeated (19-0) heading into the race today, where she looked to end her career a perfect 20-0; she’s also a female horse and she’s named after The Police’s Zenyattá Mondata. Pretty impressive right? She hung around the back of the pack for most of the race before roaring after the last turn to come in a close but futile, second place. It was something beautiful to see, really. Here was this gorgeous horse, who had never lost and on the last race, she gave it everything she had to be beat by some dude. I was rooting for her too, sure, but with such an awesome name, I thought of an album Z, by My Morning Jacket. So maybe my tastes are far too generic but come on, this is still, very good music right?

I’ve always loved the middle section probably the most. There’s the giddy energy of “What a Wonderful Man” and by the time the driving guitar chug of “Off the Record” comes on, it’s pretty awesome. I remember back in 2005, this all sounding so fresh and new for me and it’s still relatively original. I mean, I don’t think that you could find many other voices that truly resemble Jim James' soaring vocals and the band is able to diversify from sound to sound, style to style, with such skill that it all seems entirely easy. And so “Off the Record” is perfect in showcasing just how all-encompassing the sounds on here are. I remember reading Rolling Stone and the headline was something to the effect of “My Morning Jacket: The American Radiohead.” Z was their breakthrough and arguably, their highest point and so naturally, word was huge around this band and album.


One of the first capturing moments with me and Z was when I realized how impressive the bookends were. “Wordless Chorus” is seemingly perfection in opening any album and “Dondante” is this nostalgic, reflective, almost ghostly ending. Music should always maintain some kind of importance to you, solely – without any kind of interference or inconvenience because of some kind of other force. So while Z was deeply rooted in past memories, it’s amazingly fresh and real for me now. At first “Dondante” is slowly maneuvering around James’ words with a menacing guitar line. The band is patiently foreboding with their massive progression and once the explosion hits, it’s downright stunning. “You had me worried! So worried, that this would last. But now I’m learning, learning that this will pass.” – Bryan

Caribou - Swim

So I haven’t written in a while, sorry for those that happen to read this blog. I’m gonna try to get back into music – at least consciously – because I realize I am very behind on everything. It’s hard to be organized and it’s even harder to follow through on whatever tasks you set out for yourself; I am really learning that now. Still, whatever, I’m not gonna draw this out…so music…

I think I was at The Terror (Oct. 29) and I heard one of the DJs sample or really, just play “Odessa” and it instantly reminded me that I needed to get back to this album, quick. Caribou came to El Paso a couple years back when he released Andorra and he was pretty tremendous. And Swim is arguably, a bit better than his previous album and still, I hadn’t given it enough listens. So anyway, “Odessa” is the awesome opener (also featured in FIFA 11’s bad-ass soundtrack!) that is easily becoming one of 2010’s most beloved songs. The menacing melody is downright infectious and the song’s seamless flow through various instrumentation and beats is really, masterful. It’s a popular pick, sure; but it’s probably popular for at least a few good reasons, right?


“Leave House” has this certain kind of nervy synth that’s always underlining the music – I swear that when I heard the chorus the first time I though it was Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos – the bass is sublime and I love how it just grows and grows until it manifests into a huge wall of sound. I also think it has something to do with the layering and the rhythmic patterns at the front, that share a lot of LCD Soundsystem’s same tendencines; however, once you hear the vocals and the bubbling keyboards, it’s definitely Caribou. There’s some kind of 80s-influence in his music, too; it’s one of the many ‘other’ great songs off this album. – Bryan

Smile

I used to have a theory of how people found other people... of how lovers met. I used to think we're walking puzzle pieces, just wandering around, experiencing life, waiting, or not waiting, for the right person to come and complete us...to "fit" perfectly with us, like we're one piece of the puzzle and them the other. I used to think like that.

But it wasn't all right.

There were people out there who didn't make it all right. I have this one friend; he's a sex god, a bonified pussy pleaser, not to mention he's got a smile and charm that could melt any girl's heart; and he's got substance. He's every girl's missing puzzle piece, or that's how it seems, at least. And it's people like him that throw me off.

So I had to revise my theory. Maybe we're all walking puzzle pieces, but some of us are universal pieces. Maybe some of us walk around with grooves and pegs that are constantly changing, and any piece we encounter could be the one we "fit" into. Maybe that's how it is... but it doesn't really matter.

And that's the point, because really perception is everything. A piece of shit to one girl is a superman to another, and maybe they're both right in the eye's of superman; but what doesn't matter is what the other thinks. You could envision your fitting piece, and you could find your piece, but if you're piece doesn't see what you see, then there is no finished puzzle. Walking this entire Earth a million times over and encountering your soul-mate mate each time won't make them yours.

Even if the pieces do somehow align, there will always be something lodged between them. Insecurities, past relationships, trivial issues, fetishes...always something.

But there's one thing to remember, no matter what the outcome of the story...never lose hope. It's the one thing we have against the odds, because the odds are against you. Just look into a mirror and try to see what everyone else sees. You'll see your reflection, if you're lucky. But with a little hope you'll smile at the possibility that someone might see you for more than you think you're worth. And with a little hope, you'll see yourself standing there smiling...knowing you're not gonna throw it all away.

If you don't smile, remember... you're not alone.

We Create These Hells

Its a weird feeling knowing everyone in the world is out and about when you're at home, alone. It's not depressing, just weird. You feel genuinely alone. I hate to be so dismal but I have nothing else to do. And I know I hardly know what being alone is but on this one day it's hard not to feel this way.

My mom would tell me stories of when she felt genuinely alone. These were stories from when she was younger and I was just a baby. There's lots of these stories, and I genuinely wonder how she survived. She had me there by her side, but at only two, three, four years old, I doubt I could give her the companionship a soul mate could. You could hardly believe in soul mates after you heard these stories. You could hardly understand how she could ever love again. I don't think she ever did.

These stories are always playing in my mind, like a movie on loop. Always keeping me from becoming something I don't ever want to be. She's created a hell for me, but I love her more than anything...and that's how 'but' should be used.

Every once in awhile the movie will pause and I'll be free. I'll forget the pain I've lived with her. And it's in these times that a friend of mine always takes me back to that hell. A friend of mine who always texts me the same lyric just at the right times: "Wait for the day you come home from the loneliest part". "Look for the girl who has put up with all your shit", I always text back.

Its become something of a tradition, and every time he texts, I wish it was something we never started. Because I always come home from the loneliest part, but I'm afraid my shit is too much. I'm afraid she won't want to live this hell with me. I mean, who wants to stay at home when everybody in the world is out and about.

he was there

I imagine you can sense the end of a relationship. Not the way you sense something ominously visible - like cancer for a chain smoker - but more in the way an animal can sense fear, or knees a coming storm. I imagine it to be the saddest part of the break up - knowing that there's nothing to stop what's coming.

There's a story I think of when I imagine this heartbreak. It's of a girl, madly in love with a boy; so in love, even her mother's bitter hatred can't keep her from him. One day, after an exhausting fight with the girl's mother, the boy has had enough; and, in a romantic attempt to rescue his love from anymore heartache, he promises her they will run away. She couldn't be happier; it's all that she's been dreaming for. So, with her heart in her hand and her luggage all packed, she waits for him. She waits with more hope than she's ever known...than she's ever had. But she waits. And the hope fades, because he never calls.

I imagine you can sense the end of all things...close things, at least. It would be unimaginable not to imagine so. 'Imagine' used to be the word she hated. "Don't imagine...just do." Of all the things she said, that stuck the strongest; probably because I do it so damn much. I always told her she should try it more often, told her it was like dreaming. Everyone dreams.

After she told me her story, though, I never asked it of her again. I didn't have the heart, I'd be asking too much. "Imagine he called", she'd hear. In her blue couch she'd sit, staring blankly at the doorway, the hinges intact, imagining if he had called; imagining she didn't have to carry her heart and her luggage to his doorway; imagining she could forget the face of his sister, unable to give an answer, just as confused as the poor girl standing in the doorway; imagining she could understand why he didn't call...why he wasn't there.

It's things like this I imagine we must be able to sense. How could we not. How could something expected hurt so much? Sure. But how could it not.

I don't think she meant to tell the story of the girl. She was showing me a song, "Aca Entre Nos", by a famous Mexican singer. I think she sensed other things that day, though. It was the first time I had heard the story and, as it stands, I'm the only one who's heard it in its entirety. I had never cried that hard. I had never seen her cry that soft. I imagine she sensed something that day, because 1 year later she died.

It was a sad funeral, but a happy one.

I have this fear that at my funeral nobody will show. My arrangements will have been made, my friends and family will be notified, and my children will be in good health, but the pews will be empty. There'll be rows and rows of silence. Nothingness. I imagine her to have had the same fear. But it was nothing like that for her. There wasn't a single pew empty. Everyone was there. And between you and I, I think he was there.

ACL 2010: LCD Soundsystem

I’d have to say that my personal favorite at this year’s Austin City Limits was LCD Soundsystem – and this is coming from someone that probably wasn’t a fan before this year. James Murphy was definitely the kind of artist I never truly understood, for whatever lame reason, and it was This Is Happening that changed my views. It’s still probably my most-heard album of the year and the one that continues to amaze me with every single repeated listen.
Saturday right, as the sun (that's it up on the banner) was setting, was LCD Soundsystem’s time at ACL. They played from 530-630 and now, when I look at these pictures, it’s crazy just how light to dark it went, fast. I don’t remember the sound being nearly this loud but I absolutely love it when Murphy screams “Don’t you want me to wake up?!” There are just so many one-liners on this song, on this entire album, that it’s astounding. And I didn’t even used to dig “Drunk Girls” too much but now, it’s nothing more than a dance-your-troubles-away, catchy, bumpy ride, or is that what “Dance Yrself Clean” is about?

I definitely need to apologize because as I’m finally listening to this for the first time, hearing my voice against such beautiful music is annoying so seriously, sorry for that. To try and place this into some kind of contextual meaning: you always want to see your favorite bands/artists when they’re at their utmost peak. I’m getting ahead of myself but LCD Soundsystem is definitely one of the greatest bands of our current time. I’m still in awe of the simple fact that we got to stand there, in an hour of mesmerizing music and where I definitely danced till I felt myself clean (lame!) and listen to LCD Soundsystem play “I Can Change,” “All My Friends,” “You Wanted a Hit,” and end with “Home.” – Bryan

Lcd Soundsystem live @ ACL 2010 by nico43