I Can't Wait To Say All The Things You Can't See, All The Things That Make You Better, 'Cause I Can Say All The Things You Can't See

--"Like U Crazy", Mates of State

Another new week, another Nick Hornby novel to read. This time it's a novel called How To Be Good. This time it's a book centering on what one does when you have to rethink a decision one makes, especially when it comes to sizing another person up. Or, more specifically, according to Wikipedia:

It centers on characters Katie Carr, a doctor, and her husband, David Grant. Events take a turn when David stops being "The Angriest Man In Holloway" and begins to be "good" with the help of his spiritual healer, DJ GoodNews.

Suddenly, Kate's decision to get a divorce seems ill-conceived in light of her husband's conversion. All the reasons she had to loathe the man seemingly disappear overnight. Consequently, she appears to be malicious for holding onto her stance that the marriage still isn't worth saving. That's the moral dilemma of the book. Is it okay to rethink a decision that's taken years to arrive at when the circumstances change in an instant? And is even such an immediate change possible, or is it more likely an aberration that will soon correct itself?

As aforementioned, I tend to make up my mind on people rather quickly. That's why I could identify with Kate's struggle. It's not easy seeing people in a different light after forming a rock-solid opinion about them. It's in my nature to label people a certain way, good or bad. And it often takes an act of the gods to forsake this original opinion. I too tend to not believe in instant conversions. I too tend to believe that anyone can be on their best behavior for a little while only to settle back into the norm of their character, whatever that is.

People are who they are. With some people it doesn't take long to size them up.

----

I once went out with this girl from Santa Monica in 1997. I remember thinking online how eloquent she was and how much I was looking forward to meeting her. We met up at the Cheesecake Factory near Santa Monica--I believe it was technically closer to Westwood. We ate. We talked for a couple of hours. All in all, she seemed a very pleasant person.

Later she took me back to the condo she was housesitting for/caretaker of. She was kind of a live-in caretaker for a severely retarded teenager. Basically, while she was home (and not in school) she was in charge of feeding, changing, bathing, &c... this kid who couldn't do it for himself. At first it was awkward for me to sit there and watch her do her job. I don't know--I've just never been good with situations where I feel uncomfortable just being a witness. And watching her work just made me realize that I could never do anything remotely close to her job. I would have neither the patience nor the fortitude to be able to do those kind of tasks day in and day out.

What it did, though, was see the girl I was with in a new light. She had that patience. She had that fortitude. She had enough strength in her character to do that kind of job without complaining one bit about the difficulty or the stress it might have been putting on her. You could say that seeing her for those twenty or thirty minutes changed entirely how I saw her. She went from being a decent date to a date that was actually memorable.

Eventually after the twenty or thirty minutes I was there, the kid she was taking care of grew agitated at my presence. She offered to let me go as it would take another hour or two to calm him down. She didn't want me to be bored just sitting there, she said. While I wasn't in any rush to get home I conceded her point.

I left, agreeing that we should definitely meet-up again sometime soon.

Thus, I wasn't surprised when she called me two days later, asking if we could meet-up again. I wholeheartedly jumped at the chance. I mean--I wasn't exactly dying for a date, but it isn't very often that I met people I got along with as well as her. I went driving off with the impression that something special was going to happen that night. Little did I know that would be the last time I would ever see her.

Now, I've been accused of being a little impetuous myself. I've driven ninety miles just to have a fifteen minute fight in person with somebody before. I've flown out to Philadelphia for a week just to meet up with somebody for a day. I've bought things, destroyed things, and stolen things in the heat of the moment. It isn't without merit to say that I get when people are being impulsive. I completely know where people are coming from when they are acting out their passions. Of anyone I know I have the most understanding when people get emotional over something because I've let my emotions get the better of me time and time again.

However, there's a thin line between getting worked about something and just plain going overboard. While I may not be the best judge of what constitutes going over this line, there are some instances that are irreproachably over this line that it defies common sense when certain individuals cannot see for themselves when they've crossed it. Going into that date that night was one of those instances.

When I arrived at the agreed upon meeting place I found it a medium-sized two-bedroom apartment a couple of blocks from the house she was employed at. In the interim between our first date and that night she had asked her friend if she could borrow her apartment for the night. It made sense. There really wasn't any privacy back at the house since, firstly, the boy's parents were home at that time and, secondly, there was no telling when another one of his emergencies might take place. Moving the location to a more private setting seemed like a good idea to me at the time as well.

It was only when I looked closer at the surroundings that my spider senses started tingling. Waiting for me on the kitchen table were all my favorites. I'm not talking about some of my favorites. This girl had gone to the trouble of tracking down and buying everything I'd ever mentioned I liked. From my favorite soft drink (Mountain Dew) to favorite candy (Reese's Peanut Butter Cups), from my favorite sub (Seafood & Crab) to my favorite movie (The Wizard)--She had basically put together an undeniable shrine to the legacy of me. She had meant it as a pleasant surprise engineered to be deeply sweet and, I suppose, kind of romantic.

All I remember, though, was that it scared the crap out of me.

I mean--I'd known this girl all of three days. Yes, I'd told her that I liked everything that was waiting for me on the table. But, no, that doesn't give her my permission to ambush me with it all the second time we met up. Maybe if she had had Mountain Dew and the Peanut Butter Cups I might not have been so put off. Yet taken in conjunction with the movie, the sandwich, the CD, the muffins (chocolate chip), the soup (clam chowder), and the dessert (Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookie Dough Cheesecake)--it seemed truly obsessive to me. I had heard about people like her. I'd even been accused of being in the same stalker league as her. But until you're staring face-to-face with true craziness you really have nothing to compare it to.

In that instant I formed an immediate and eternal opinion of her. Right or wrong, with one night's worth of effort she severed any emotional connection I might have had for her.

I didn't leave right away. I gave her some time to explain her behavior all away. I waited for her to tell me it was some kind of elaborate joke, that she was only pretending to be that far over on the crazy school. Yet all she did was continue to strengthen my suspicions of her. First, she started talking about how I was the first guy she had dated in almost two years and how great we were getting along. That wasn't so bad. What was bad was how she invited me to go meet her family the next week. That was kind of moving fast, but still in the realm of plain eagerness and not stalker-type behavior. Then she added that her family lived in New York and that she would be willing to pay for me to fly with her over there. That's the kind of crazy talk that I just wasn't prepared for. And if that wasn't bad enough, she then started asking me how soon she could the rest of my family.

In all my life I've never gone out with another girl who wanted to meet my family before two months of knowing me. Wanting to meet my family after two dates is just unheard of. And what's more she would not let the issue go. In the four or five hours I stayed that night she brought up the issue at least six times. Sure, they were introduced in various ways, but there was no disguising that this girl was in a hurry to progress the relationship faster than it had any right to be.

She basically scared me off from wanting to have anything to do with her after that night.

I went to work the next day entirely convinced that I would not be seeing her any more. Sure enough, she left a message on my answering machine that we should meet up the upcoming weekend. Instead of calling her back from work like I had been doing, I decided that I would wait the four or five hours until I arrived back at my house again. That was a mistake on my part. Instead of waiting for me to call her back, she proceeded to leave a total of twenty-two messages on my answering machine in those four or five hours. They ranged from sentiments like she was thinking of me, to her thinking about our trip to New York, to asking about meeting my family again, to finally genuine sadness that I wasn't calling her back right away.

I called her back very upset. I told her that if she had any hope of us going out again she would have to wait for me to call her back. The combination of the last few days, of starting off with such high hopes for her and being so totally let down had just taken their toll on me. I admit, I wasn't very nice to her during that conversation. I'm sure I dropped some F-bombs liberally throughout the conversation. I didn't care. I had had enough of her. At the very end of the conversation, in fact, I believe I told her not to hold her breath for me to even call her ever again.

And for the next three years I proceeded to avoid Santa Monica and its environs on the off-chance that I would bump into her. I didn't need that kind of aggravation. Also, I was just deathly afraid what she was capable of if her disappointment and sadness over me ever turned to thoughts of vengeance and retribution.

----

It's taken me a long time to ascertain the humor in the situation. At the time it happened I was annoyed more than anything else. To me it didn't seem fair that I could be so wrong about a person. I think a part of me was just upset that my initial impression of her had been so incorrect. Up until that point I thought I had good instincts about people I chose to go after. After all, I had been right with Breanne and I had been right with Tara. It just didn't occur to me that everyone I would go out with wouldn't turn out to be an immediate success. I thought, at the very least, it would take months and months of getting to know someone for the inconsistencies between our personalities to shine through.

Now that I look at it, though, that girl might have been crazy and I might not have ever seen her again after that night, but I think I could have been a little more gracious with her. While it's true that one's personality doesn't ever change entirely, that isn't her fault either. She is who she is. I shouldn't have taken out my annoyance with the situation out on her. I'm sure if she could have scaled back her willingness to please she would have, if only not to scare me off.

Yes, I was entirely right about the content of her character being somewhat incompatible with mine, but just because you can see a person's true colors doesn't mean you always know the right course of action. I'm still learning everyday to take those initial impressions I receive about people and to form an appropriate response.

Also, I think I've learned more about what it's like just to want to make another person happy. While I might not ever go to the lengths she went to, I believe I have more empathy for her plight. It's not easy to want something or someone so much you're willing to make these grand gestures. You can never be quite sure if the gestures you make will be completely welcomed until after you've made them. Her only problem wasn't the gesture itself. Her problem was that she made the gesture before she had gotten a complete opportunity to see for herself how I would react.

If there's anything I've gotten to know over the years is that it takes years to feel comfortable with someone to make a grand gesture. More importantly, it takes years to make someone comfortable with you for them to be willing to take a grand gesture for what it is, an undeniable expression of your love for them.

It's not something you can build up to in a day (or three days, as the case may be). And, much like being good, it's not something you can fake your way through.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I Don't Believe In Anything So You May As Well Forget About Me, It's Time You Took It Upon Yourself To Go Join The Other Team, Forget About Me

--"Let's Go Bowling", Camera Obscura

It's not often I try new foods. I've pretty much been set in my ways for a couple of decades now. It isn't that I'm not willing to experiment with the tastes and foods I already know--I'm still up for that next cut of steak, that new style of St. Louis Ribs, and another take on trout. It's just that I've tried most foods by now and I don't plan on adding any more to what I eat.

Thus, it was surprising that I ate an entire plate of mushrooms which had come with my Mongolian Beef last Friday. Up until then I had refused to eat mushrooms altogether. I don't know--somewhere along the line I had tried mushrooms on pizza I believe. After that I just had it in my head that I didn't like the stuff. It didn't matter that I'd never tried it prepared any other way. It didn't matter that dried-up mushroom isn't exactly the best indicator of all the flavor that it has to offer. All that mattered was that I had given it its one opportunity and it had blown it.

Honestly, if I really thought about it I'd have to say my aversion to mushrooms had more to do with the rule than the actuality. You see when I form an opinion I believe is flimsy I often invent a humorous rule to validate it to others. I don't like eating fries with ketchup? Why, that becomes I don't eat foods that rhyme together. I don't like eating most vegetables. Why, that becomes everyone who ate vegetables one hundred fifty years ago is dead now. Therefore, if you eat vegetables you will die. And, as aforementioned, I never much cared for mushrooms. To that I invented the belief that mushrooms killed the unicorns and, as well, if you eat mushrooms you would surely perish.

With me I believe if I reiterate something enough times I began to believe it myself. I mean--I know unicorns aren't real, but a small part of my mind just from hearing it repeated so much must have believed my rule about not eating mushrooms. I don't know how else to explain never having tried it again after that one early incident for almost thirty years.

Mushrooms are delicious. Hmmm. Well, at least those mushrooms I had on Friday were. For whatever reason I saw through the lunacy of not trying something new simply because I had mandated some silly rule about it. It just occurred to me that mushrooms were something I had made my mind up early on and never gone back to update my opinion. I have a real weakness for that kind of mentality I'm afraid. I form a first opinion about a great many things and never stay around to form a second or third opinion.

It makes me wonder what else I've missed out on for the sake of sticking with my gut instincts and, of course, for putting entirely too much stock in the code of rules I've crafted seemingly out of thin air. Deciding what I believe in should be a lifelong process and not one that happens in an instance.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Shake Your Love, I Just Can't Shake Your Love

--"Shake Your Love", Debbie Gibson

Sometimes I think Brandy had the right idea--fall in love young then have one of you die soon after. I know it's a horrible idea to even contemplate, but part of me believes any other trajectory is doomed to failure. In fact, it's been an idea which has been percolating in my head for some years now. Even as far back as 2004 when I first began writing The Carisa Meridian I had the main character ruminating on whether it was better to pine for a girl he knew all of six months or to grow up with her and come to find out their lives were progressing in different directions? Time just kills anything pure and noble about love--that's what I believe sometimes.

Think about it. On one hand you have my friend Brandy, who loved and lost at an early age. She gets an inordinate amount of sympathy for having somebody in her life she cared about deeply. More to the point, she receives praise for keeping the torch burning for someone who's never coming back again. Hell, you can include me among that number. I mean--that's the definition of true love for some; falling in love with somebody at first sight, losing that somebody, and then swearing off loving anybody else. That's true love in its purest form. That fits the bill of any definition of romantic love. People don't get down on her (often) for still pining away for Joshua; it's loyalty at its most reverent.

Yet when I relate to people that I've basically fallen for someone who can and never love me back for some ten years now, all I hear is that I should move on. It reminds me of that one poem I wrote long ago:

That I should move on they say
As if I loved her merely then
But not now and never again.

The only conclusion I can draw is that I'm looked down upon for the duration of my relationship. Brandy and Joshua, because theirs was a brief period filled with all the highs of falling in love and finding each other's best characteristics, cannot be assaulted because all one ever hears is how wonderful their time together was. Also, by its brevity, their relationship is unassailable because no one is willing to besmirch a love cut short too soon. But they possess no such qualms about a relationship that, because of its length, has seen the trials and tribulations of the rockiest of journeys. Every ship looks pristine a few miles from port, but if you take a look at a ship that has actually been through the roughest of storms it's going to show some wear.

And when that wear inevitably leads to that ship no longer being considered seaworthy, I guess people are well in their rights to call the ship a blemish on the horizon.

I beg to differ though. While I would never dare place what I've been through as being more characteristic of what real love is compared to Brandy, I believe it has its place among valid accounts of what knowing true passion for someone is. I think there is something noble about getting to know someone faults and all without forsaking them. And while we might not be together in the strictest sense of the word, I'd be upset to hear if anyone said I loved her any less simply because we didn't end up getting married or sharing a house together.

We had our time in the sun just like Brandy did and, similar to her as well, the fortunes of fate intervened to put an end to the time. It doesn't mean my heart doesn't ache just as much for those first few years. It doesn't mean my heart doesn't still believe she was the best thing to have ever brightened it up once upon a time. It doesn't mean my heart doesn't still long for her as much as it ever did.

And I know she still loves me to a large degree even though I can't hear it everyday like I used to... just like Brandy knows the same about Joshua.

It's not my fault that the person I gave my heart to ended up living long enough to break it. In the end it doesn't matter whether you spend two years or fifty years with somebody you love. It doesn't matter if you can hear them say they love you back. Hell, it really doesn't matter if you believe they love you less than you love them. All that matters is you love somebody, anybody will all your heart for as long as you can in whatever way you can. Life should be about the love you give and not about the love you get in return.

Brandy still believes in that idea and I'm proud to say so do I.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Just Because They Seem To Understand The Way You Feel, It Doesn't Mean That They Feel The Same Way Too

--"Heavenly Nobodies (live)", Lush

speaking of music...

I've recently begun reading Nick Hornby's newest work, Juliet, Naked. I've read most of his other novels meaning it was pretty much a no-brainer that I would be picking this particular novel up. So far it hasn't disappointed.

Juliet, Naked, according to Wikipedia:

is a novel by the British author Nick Hornby, released on 29 September 2009 by Riverhead Books. It tells the story of Annie, the long-suffering girlfriend of obsessed music fan Duncan, and the object of his obsession, fictional reclusive singer-songwriter Tucker Crowe. The plot revolves around the release of Juliet, Naked, the first new Tucker Crowe release in over two decades.

But more than that it's a gentle ribbing and exultation of the way music and musicians creep into our lives. You see, Duncan isn't just obsessed with Tucker Crowe; Duncan is fanatical about Tucker. The way he pores over the minutiae of Tucker's albums just about mirrors how every one of has looked to a particular song, a particular album, or maybe a particular musician for guidance. I mean--Providence knows I've been guilty of instilling meaning into songs that probably were accidental at best. One only has to look at my previous post to see that I imbue a good deal of significance in the soundtrack of my life. It's perfectly natural to want to believe that a song, as with any work of art, is speaking to you about your life. That's kind of the purpose of art.

Where the novel excels is showing how some of us take this idolatry too far. When certain people start losing the ability to see the significance elsewhere and start believing that the only messages that matter come from music, that's when the problem begins. Some of the best scenes in the book are where Duncan or others go through these great upheavals of fortune without so much losing sleep and yet practically throw themselves off cliffs when the hear the album in question, Juliet, Naked. It's a decent commentary about how the critic in all of us sometimes is stronger than the artist in all of us. It's far easier to react to somebody else's contribution to the world than to contribute something ourselves.


take no heroes, it's no good
they don't stand up to you
just take the bits you think that you can use

I know I'm a critic at heart. I like to review restaurants on Yelp! I like to review music, movies, and television shows here. A lot of the writing I do is in response to something else I've seen or heard. My process dictates that I glean as much truth as I can from the world of entertainment. Far more than the news or daily events in my life, I gain my insights from art. From these insights I post my own truths, I suppose. It's been the process I've worked by for as long as I can remember.

And in the course of growing to appreciate music and film and television, I freely admit that I've grown attached to certain entertainers. I too could be accused of a little hero worship by wanting to believe that certain singers or certain actors hold the answers to questions I've been asking myself for awhile now. My perspective is that I can't be the most intelligent or most intuitive person out there. Because of that, I'd like to believe that certain people who are more open about their ideas and who possess the intelligence to flesh these ideas out can become artists and can manage to share this knowledge with the rest of us. I'd like to believe that there are some among us that have all the answers that can make sense of our lives.

Because the truth is it's easier to believe someone can tell me all the answers in a four-minute ditty than spend the time discovering the answers myself. It's easier for someone to tell me how to do things right or wrong than spend the time absorbing the same knowledge through simple trial and error. It's easier for someone to feed me than cook for myself.

Yet, as the novel suggests, it would seem that there's a danger to getting all your insights from one person. When that one person is inevitably discovered to not have all the knowledge of the universe, there's a danger in believing that everything they've produced is a fraud. We're so hurt at the betrayal that we discount everything that has given us hope before.

But the way I see it, no, it isn't good to believe that an individual, a band, or a particular celebrity has all the answers. No one is that smart or in tune with the way the universe works. However, everybody has some things figured that we might not. Everybody we come across can fill in a little bit more of the puzzle for us. And while we shouldn't worship any man or woman as a god, I firmly believe all of us can learn a thing or two from everyone else. As long as we can keep doing that, learning as we meet and get to know people, I don't think we will be in any danger of growing dependent on someone else to guide us completely.

We can all be guides to everyone else, just as we can all be guided by everyone else. No one person knows everything, but between us all I don't think there isn't anything we can't come to understand or know.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

You Could Be My Silver Springs, Blue-Green Colors Flashing, I Would Be Your Only Dream, Your Shining Autumn, Ocean Crashing

--"Silver Springs (cover)", Stacy Dupree

Recently Janet from The Art of Getting By sent me a note through Facebook on her "15 or More Important Albums". These weren't her favorite albums--just the ones she felt a strong connection to or the ones for which she has deeply attached memories.

Normally I don't involve myself in memes or lists one is meant to pass along, but when it comes to music putting a list together like that I thought would be a challenging exercise. I mean--much of my history like many people out there comes with a soundtrack attached. For me the only problem would be how to narrow it down to fifteen or so albums and coming up with reasons why these particular albums resonated with me.

Some of these picks are obvious, some not so obvious, but in their own different ways each one hold a piece of my history.

----

1. Legend - Bob Marley & The Wailers This is the one album I closely associate with DeAnn. It especially brings out memories of those three years when we were together as a couple and living out in Rancho Cucamonga and Fontana. I still can't listen to "No Woman, No Cry" without thinking of DeAnn.

2. Songs of Innocence and Experience - The Blake Babies True story--I bought this album for ninety-eight cents at the local Blockbuster Music before they closed down. Apparently, they had mispriced this album and were forced to sell it to me for the sticker price. I still consider the best album I've ever bought for under a dollar. It was the first album I could remember where I loved and not just liked every track. Every track speaks to me about different things and each track has a whole different sound than the previous one. If there's one album that encompasses the gamut of human emotion, this is it.

Plus, "Rain" is still one of my favorite tracks by anyone. If I ever make a movie "Rain" will be the track that I open it with, that's a promise.

3. Take-Offs & Landings - Rilo Kiley My favorite album by my all-time favorite band--how could it not be on the list? It wasn't the first Rilo Kiley album I ever bought and it certainly wasn't the first Rilo Kiley album I ever liked, but it's still my favorite. Great lyrics, great musicianship, and the delight of discovering a kick-ass band just coming into their own.

It was because of this album I started going to Rilo Kiley concerts. Without that the last six years would have turned out vastly different for me. I wouldn't have met all the people I've met because of Rilo Kiley and I would have travelled the country about half as much. Most of the new cities I've visited I went to go see Rilo Kiley and check out their baseball team.

And, yes, "Pictures of Success" is my still my favorite song of all-time.

4. Staring at the Sea - The Cure The first CD I ever bought. The Cure was the band I listened all through high school and I knew that when I bought my first CD player, this would be the album I would be getting first. I still play it every now and again because so many of my high school memories have a Cure song attached to them.

5. Rock Spectacle - Barenaked Ladies Tara's recommendation to me and a band that still holds up till now. "Jane" and "Life, In A Nutshell" are two songs I must have played a thousand times while she and I were together. "Jane" especially is a beautifully written song with lyrics that deeply affect me because they might as well have called that song, "Tara," because the lyrics still fit how I think of her... when I think of her.

6. Don't Be Cruel - Bobby Brown Ah, 7th and 8th grades at St. Rita's, where I went for elementary school and junior high. I listened to a lot of different music in those days, but for some reason the whole New Edition/Bobby Brown musicscape come to mind when I think of those days. Plus, I think this is where I think my affinity for R & B started from.

7. Pop! The First 20 Hits - Erasure This album reminds me of the time at USC, more specifically of the times hanging out with Dan and Peter whenever they were back in town. I really only have two periods in my life where I went to concerts all the time. One of them was the 2004-2008 when Rilo Kiley was touring all the time and the other was 1994-1998 when I would just travel all over Southern California with Dan, Peter, Tom, and some other guys from Crown Books.

Erasure still was my favorite concert of that time period, though.

8. Hi-Five - Hi-Five I must have sang this whole album to Breanne over the phone at one time or another. If you ever want to hear cheesy singing at its best just put this album on anywhere near me. I get downright unhearable when I'm belting this album out. You haven't lived until you've heard my rendition of "I Like The Way (Kissing Game)".

Of course, that all changes when I'm singing "I Can't Wait Another Minute" for or to her because that will always be our song. I don't know--when I think of love songs that's the song I think of. It's so heartfelt and true that I can't imagine anyone else coming up with a song that speaks directly about how it feels to be so lost in someone that you just can't stand it.

9. Their Greatest Hits: The Record - The Bee Gees
Breanne's favorite band so they're my adopted favorite band too. It's simple; I think Bee Gees, I think Breanne.

10. Blue - LeAnn Rimes The first country artist to get me to like country. Breanne tried for years to get me to warm up to country music, but I resisted. That is, until a little song called "Blue" stole my heart. I had never heard such pretty song tied to such a simple melody. It was all downhill from there.

I wouldn't say Country is my favorite style of music, but it's right up there with all the other genres I listen to.

11. She Like Electric - Smoosh After I went through my bankruptcy and period of unemployment, "But Now I Know" was the song that rang true for me. It's message that we all have to grow up sometime and that it's impossible to protect ourselves from being hurt every second of the day is one that I still reflect on to this day. A great song from this great album.



12. Out of the Blue - Debbie Gibson There's a very specific period in my life where my brother Francis and I literally went to our cousins' house every week to spend the weekend or where they would spend the weekend at our house. For some reason I remember hearing a Debbie Gibson every time we rode there or every time we rode back. I don't know the year; I just know what was playing on the radio.

13. Biggest Bluest Hi Fi - Camera Obscura Camera Obscura are currently my second favorite band right now. And for good reason. Not only do I think of Tracyanne Campbell as one of the prettiest voices in music today, I also consider Camera Obscura to be the best working music group currently still playing music.

When I moved down to the South Bay this is the one group that I remember being a big part of it. Whether it was playing this record when I was looking for apartments or going to see them in L.A. within months of moving down here, Camera Obscura is the music that has pretty much defined my time in Harbor City and Long Beach.

14. Team Boo - Mates of State Toby's favorite group and the album that pretty much sold me on them. I'd heard of Mates of State for a few years, but I never had an opportunity to listen to them. Then Toby sent me this album with its delicious harmonies and almost whimsical lyrics, and I was hooked. Every time I listen to them I feel compelled to just sigh and let out a little, "Gosh," in honor of my youngest friend.

15. 50 Number Ones - George Strait Another country album and another doozy. This was the album that I got a good listen to when Breanne and I were in Chicago. In fact, I clearly remember "The Dance" as being one of the songs that I played the night we had the meeting room to ourselves at the Sheraton and danced for what seemed like ten hours.

Then I remember listening to it again when we were taking the L back to our hotel on one of our last nights in the city while she slept on my shoulder.

George Strait is a golden god among men and 50 Number Ones should be the soundtrack of everyone's life. For a week there I know it was mine and my friend's.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Don't Get Me Wrong, If I Fall In The "Mode Of Passion," It Might Be Unbelievable, But Let's Not Say "So Long," It Might Just Be Fantastic

--"Don't Get Me Wrong", The Pretenders

from a recent entry on Yelp...

I love trout. There's no getting around it. When I think of eating fish, it's trout that leaps to mind. If a restaurant doesn't serve trout I seriously reconsider even ordering fish or sometimes seafood altogether.

That being said, it takes a lot for a place to impress me with their trout. I mean--I've had it all the way up and down the California coast. I've had it in places as far-off as Seattle and Boston and Chicago. I don't believe a fish exists that I'm more familiar with how it should taste than trout. For every place that I've sampled a delectable morsel of this freshwater fish I've probably tried a dozen places where I've been gravely let down.

Let me just say, Fish Bonz is one of the good guys.

Their Cajun trout is spot-on sublime. It possesses a good deal of flavor, is pretty hefty for the price, and still manages to squeak in under $9. There isn't anything I can complain about their version of my seafood staple. The fries and cole slaw it comes with also happen to be perfect accompaniments, neither overpowering the fish nor being weak-tasting or forgettable.

I love small seafood places that can offer great deals on their fish. I love places that know seafood doesn't have to be a high-class affair where you break out the china and crystal. I'd much rather eat at a place like Fish Bonz that can bring fish to the people off the street, people who are just looking for a good meal while they're out and not a black tie affair.

I can't say any more about this place except to say that now that I've found it there ain't nothing in the world that can keep me from coming back again and again for their simply awesome trout.

----

One of the best things my parents ever did for me was take me and my brother to all sorts of restaurants. Unlike some of my relatives I had a pretty eclectic culinary education. I'm not claiming I'm the most experimental eater out there, but comparatively I've gotten the opportunity to sample a lot of different cuisines thanks to my parents.

Yet one of my most favorite memories is when my parents, mostly my mom, would take us down to the local Sizzler for lunch. That's where I fell in love with trout as my preferred fish. Before those visits I really didn't like fish much. Aside from the occasional fish sticks and fries we had for dinner, I just couldn't see much of the point of fish. It wasn't the smell like most people complain about since I can't smell. I just found fish rather boring. Because of my inability to smell I tended to gravitate towards foods with a high amount of flavor or seasoning. Fish just didn't meet this requirement. More than that, fish tended to be either dry or severely undercooked, at least in my household.

Then I tried trout for the first time at Sizzler's. Not only did I enjoy it immensely, but with every visit I find it consistently good. Unlike fish at home or the other places my parents had taken us to, I could rely on the trout at Sizzler's being the buttery, lightly salted heaven that I had had that first time.

It gave me hope that other seafood might approach this level of appeasement. Frankly, it opened what up until then was a slowly shutting door on opening my palate to something I thought I would dislike for the rest of my life.


suddenly thunder showers everywhere
who can explain the thunder and rain

I believe that's the reason I like trout as much as I do, because it reminds me of a time where a new world was opened to me. Sure, I might go a little overboard with the trout fanaticism, but without that remarkable fish I might have remained a closed-off individual like I am in other aspects of my life. I truly count seafood as one of my favorite types of food. That condition might have been drastically changed if I hadn't discovered trout.

Besides, I have to give credit to where credit is due. When I find something or someone that has such a huge impact on my life I'll pretty much be a fan for life. That's what I am, a trout fan for life.

And proud of it.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

There Is A Wait So Long, You'll Never Wait So Long, Here Comes Your Man

--"Here Comes Your Man", The Pixies

"Gosh. There was never an instant where I felt betrayed by anyone. I guess it was more of a choice never to let anyone get the opportunity to do so.

"I mean--I had my chances. I took my shot at surrounding myself with a cadre, like a little child surrounding herself with a blanket. But the blanket never quite felt right. Didn't need or want it. It felt unsettling in the worst kind of way. It felt like I was giving in to what was expected of me rather than what I wanted. That's a feeling that just doesn't become me, I can tell you that much. It's like wearing somebody else's clothes and trying to pretend they fit you.

"Besides, that was always my sisters' deal. They had that popularity vote shored up. That meant I never had the need to compete with them in that area. I was content to let them have it. There's so many other treasures to claim. Why stomp all over their area of interest? We never came up with an explicit agreement to do so, but for the most part we try not to be competitive with each other. We're just not the petty or jealous types. At least I'm not. I was content to let them have that as they were content to not knock me for not wanting it. It's weird how that works, that utter lack of puzzlement at somebody's indifference over that which you hold sacred. You can't make somebody see the rainbow; you can only look for it yourself and only on your own time."

There was a time last year when I got caught in that thunderstorm in Kentucky which almost killed the both of us that I felt it. I felt like discussing that peculiar habit of mine with Toby because it was one of those life and death moments where people truly take stock of their lives, really examine the course their journey has taken them.

We were discussing how people intersect with one another and how strange it is that anyone runs into another human being long enough to make a lasting impression. More specifically, we were ruminating over how, comparatively, she had few people she called friends. She was defending her position, saying that it was more of a choice. She had her close companions. She didn't want for any more.

While I considered myself lucky to be counted among this number, it worried me that she was so jaded at her age. I tried to remember if I was so cavalier at that age. I couldn't remember. All I knew was that, looking at it from the other end of the spectrum, it didn't sit well with me to abandon all hope of being well-liked and respected by a good number of people. I mean--if you gave it your best shot and still ended up with only a few you could count on that would be one thing. But to not even try? That was like saying your character wasn't good enough to warrant any attention whatsoever. You were just a dull, insignificant individual and that was all. It's a shameful attitude to go through life with. Frankly, it made me sad to believe that I was sitting next to someone who disregarded her significance to such a degree.

I didn't go so far as to inquire what was wrong with her, but I did voice my curiosity.

"But you still go to parties, right? I've heard you talk about attending some in the past," I asked.

"Yeah. I'm not a complete introvert. Yet for me the social significance isn't found in who I met or who I attended. I go because it suits me. If I feel up to it, I go. If I don't, I don't. I don't have the desire to be seen or to put in face time with my peers or merely to get out of the house. Socializing like any other activity is best done in moderation and only when there is sufficient bliss to be gleaned from it. If I get the sense that I'm going to uncomfortable, it's just not worth it to me.

"I see these same people. I realize that the manner in which someone acts outside a more formal setting is different than the way she acts in a more formal setting. Once you've seen one side, it isn't difficult to imagine how the other side lives. I know you act like this in a class room. It doesn't blow my mind to realize you cut loose once you're on the outside of boundaries of that same school. We all like to have fun. We all need the company. I just don't think some of us need to have company to have fun all the time. Other people do and that's okay.

"That's just not me.

"Gosh. Case in point. I went to this one get together a few years back. Jack had invited me. In a moment of weakness I acquiesced to his invitation. I hadn't been to a party in a few weeks and I had received notice that I was missed by a few people that I did consider myself close to. Once there, I hung around for a few hours. I laughed. I sang. I gave my best effort to be in-the-moment Toby. I did my best to not postpone joy like I always do. And I must say that I was smiling and I was genuinely happy for those few hours. It doesn't hurt me to be with others. I don't frown on the experience of interaction as much as people give me credit for.

"Yet what I recall most about that night is wandering off with Jack to the back of our mutual friend's house and just looking up at the stars. I recall remarking to him how the whole sky was like a giant waterfall and all the stars misty spray threatening to rain down upon us at any second. And it wasn't because I considered that moment more beautiful or anything; it's because I considered that a genuine moment shared with a person who would understand the significance of the moment as opposed to people who could only take my words at face value. There's a certain serenity of spirit when you can look at the world with a panoramic view instead of a more specific view.

"The party was fun, but it just blended into the dozens of its ilk I've attended. The sky on that particular night from that particular vantage was unique. That was something I was glad to not have missed. That was something I consider myself fortunate to have experienced in its full glory."


take me away to nowhere plains

That was the kind of person Toby is. She always looks for the direct route to satisfying her soul. Often times that takes her away from the things of Man. I always joke with her that in another life she could have been her generation's Walt Whitman. Or maybe she'll be this generation's.

While this doesn't necessarily put her at odds with my own philosophies, it still manages to surprise me at how she can maintain such a distance from society and yet maintain a genuine fondness. But it's more of a fondness a person has who's visiting a zoo rather than the fondness one feels for visiting relatives or old friends. She has this disconnect with the rest of the world that, I guess, works for her. I suppose it gives her the dispassionate viewpoint of someone who sees the world at large but doesn't consider herself a part of it.

I could never do that for while I have anti-social tendencies I still crave what the world has to offer for the most part. I don't consider myself a naturalist like she does so it doesn't matter to me how close I consider myself to nature. People are all I have to feel an affinity towards. I don't have the luxury of taking or leaving society in general. While it's great for me to get way from people now and again--like traveling for four hours in the backwoods of some Kentucky glen while thunder, lightning, and rain come in a torrent all around me--it's nothing I would like to live in.

Some people can find a home in such wonder and splendor.

Me? Eventually it scares me to live life so raw, so close to the bone. I don't think people were supposed to be that enamored of the world at large. There's always that element of being just a bit frightened of one's surroundings that's instinctual about the human experience. People I can figure out. People I can adjust to. There are just some aspects to nature and its awesome power that doesn't elicit respect in me, only abject fear. I doubt I'll ever grow that attuned to what the wind and the water, the sun and the sky have to offer. I mean--I admire the fact that I know a person who can so live her life to the point her moods are affected by the beauty all around her. It doesn't mean I seek to emulate that relationship.

Like Toby says, I have no reason to compete with her in that area. It's one of those differences that lends itself to healthy debate between us, where we each can appreciate the other's viewpoint without having to put it down.

I just know that if shove came to push I would much rather live surrounded by the things of man rather than the things of nature. I reserve the option to escape from the things of man every now and again, but you'll find me more homesick for the trappings of the city than the country.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers