Riding fast, living slow.

The problem with owning a D80 and having too much free time (ha, there's a problem if I've ever heard one...) is that I have far, far too many pretty pictures to post. I guess I'll get around to it, but I'm mostly thinking I think I need to devote to a flickr account instead of being photonerd on blogger ("Seeee? Do you see the way the light hits the dirt and the way lens flare..."). So, look for that in the coming days.

Regardless, have TEMPE!


We (Ashley, Joel, Casey, Myself. Which shouldn't be capitalized, but it looks odd if I don't) went to Tempe for the sole purpose of seeing Ben Folds. Really, we drove straight to the venue, then hotel, did a little playing, then turned around and went home. BUT. Do not dare think that we did not have fun.


FOR STARTERS, look at the dang bathroom key in Gallup. How is that not fun?!?


Well, I guess Casey didn't think it was fun. But I certainly did.


For ADDED FUN, I brought the Fountain Hat, purchased in Fountain, Colorado back in August. (It's important to note that I was a little confused to be going... west instead of.... north. Also confusing was not having Marky with me.)



DAMMIT, CASEY. HAVE SOME FREAKING FUN.


We ate at Jack in the Box in Flagstaff. Even though I'm not informed that there's a way to Phoenix that's actually an hour shorter if you don't go through Flagstaff, Sourdough Jacks are probably worth the trip.


Like I said, we went straight to the venue. The venue's website scared us because it told us to allow an hour to park. AN HOUR? Where is the show? SAN DIEGO?!? But, since it was at ASU's performing arts building and since it's impossible to park at UNM, we took the website on its word. It took us less than a minute to park. And we were within 50 feet of the front door. WHAT. But, it gave us time to explore ASU just a bit, find a bathroom and a Starbucks.

Now, the show itself also started at 6:30, which still makes no sense to me. The openers were called Rueben's Accomplice, a local Tempe who are also opening for Jimmy Eat World (a Mesa favorite) on their Clarity x 10 tour (complete side note: SHOOT ME NOW, I'm so excited about that). Now, okay, I think whoever the college promoter went, "These guys play piano. Ben Folds plays piano. They will sound good together." No, college promoter, no. INCORRECT. While the band gets bonus points for having luminarias as stage lighting, they lose just as many for bringing their own bedroom lamp. Sup, Danny Winn.

And Ben, oh, Ben was spectacular. He's the king of doing exactly what you don't expect. A few weeks before Way to Normal was released, he leaked fake versions of the songs, that he spent a weekend recording. As a joke. And as he explained, he ended up really liking them. So, he played quite a few of them. He also played about half of Way to Normal, then took a promised short break, came back, and played some good, old stuff. Casey FINALLY started having fun when Ben broke out Underground. He also played Kate (since I am, in fact, a lady, I was quite happy) and directed us for Not the Same.

In the words of Joel, he knows how to play the fuck out of a show. When I saw him back in January, he was still finishing the new album and still working it out on stage. He talked a lot more, so it seemed more personal, but this time, he let his music talk for him. Seeing a performer like that, who just oozes talent, is always so inspiring. You can't help but feed off him, regardless of the circumstances. You could tell that he was having the time of his life. I think it would be easy for music like Bens, being heard in a performance hall, to take a snotty turn. But he's always nothing but pure fun. And he wants everyone else to have fun, too. And we all certainly did.

We got a motel room for the night and slept in. The next morning held wondrous treasures.



Animal fries.

There's something so fulfilling about eating at In N Out Burger. I know half of the appeal is the fact that it's not in New Mexico. But, it's probably the only fast food in the country that you actually feel good after you eat it. Almost like you're proud of yourself.


Oh no, Casey's having fun.

And by Casey having fun, that means shopping for action figures. In his quest for Red Hulk, we hit up a Tempe Target (and later, a Mesa Target, where I became convinced I'd run into Jim Adkins buying the same Red Hulk). Sadly, no Red Hulk, but Casey found a new bed.


And a new executive office.


He fired Ashley.

We went to Starbucks in the Target and the girl working there was nice. I mean, oddly nice. First, she complemented Ashley's hair, then my camera, then she started giving us free Odwalla.


Apparently, this is the face I make when someone gives me free Odwalla.

Now, I don't actually like Odwalla. Blasphemy, I know, but it makes me feel like I'm drinking a little bit of puke. And I KNOW, boba's a way worse vomit-esqe sensation, but I'm not here to make excuses for my drink preferences. I think the face was moreso a reaction to actually getting something for free at Starbucks. Really. When does that ever happen?


This is Joel's reaction to free things from Starbucks, buuuut...


I personally think this brings the rofls.

SO. Kyle told me this story about Casey knowing how to climb a palm tree. Guess what they have in the parking lot of the Tempe Target?


Pre-game.


Launch.


Conquistador.

After Target, Ashley and I convinced Joel and Casey that they really wanted to go pedal-boating in the Tempe town lake.


So, we did that.

I clearly, had the time of my life. But, pedalboating is actually a little exhausting. I wasn't expecting that.




We got to pedal through and around three bridges.


Ashley left a permanent signature from us: "I <3 Jesus".


Swallows nests were all over the bridges. They sort of gross me out.

After that and another Target, we had the grandest intentions of checking out a local arcade, but we decided to head home instead. Pedaling's haaaaard.


We stopped at a majestic cacti north of Tempe. Only so I could take its picture.


Flipping postcard! I luff D80.


Bonus mini cacti with large cacti stop.


Magestic Highway Whale.

Now, a curious thing started happening about half an hour outside of Flagstaff. Casey, our trip DJ, started playing the sort of songs that require a singalong. Oh, you know, the sort of songs that you pour your heart out on when you're alone in your car. But, we weren't alone this time around.


Flagstaff Jack in the Box, again. It's important to note that Joel bought another order of curly fries SOLELY for that picture.

By the time we left Flagstaff and were headed directly east, car singalong took over. It became EPIC CAR ROCK OUT '08. It sort of started out of no where, but every song Casey played became more and more epic. And while you would think the later it got, the slower things got, you would be absolutely wrong. The later it got, the more committed we got. Around Acoma, Casey broke out the DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL and we all about lost our minds during "Hands Down". While I wished I had bought a D90 so I could record the merriment, sometimes it's best that certain things stay in the car. I'm sure reviewing our EPIC CAR ROCK OUT when we weren't so tired and roaded, would take away the magic.


The last time I was in Phoenix-metro was three and a half years ago. I was so fresh off heartbreak, still feeling daggers. It was a little sour to go back there. But, I had such a great time with such great people. It's amazing the difference a few years can make. You're okay, Arizona. Just learn to cool down once in a while. And take back John McCain. Thanks.

Connect the wires and plug me in.

First off, we need to talk about how freaking good this album is. It takes every piece of music every current piano-fronted indie pop band (which is an increasingly large genre, probably thanks to Mr. Folds) and shoves it down their freaking throats. It's just that strong. It's a true return to form, a CD that people who hates Ben after he dropped the Five will fall fast in love with. Songs for Silverman will always have a very special, sentimental place in my heart but that's not what this album is about. It feels like Ben had a pretty intense conversation with his producers before recording and said, "Okay. Just how much can I get away with it?". It's one of those albums that's worth buying solely because of the production, and also solely because of the song writing calibur. I heard about half of it live when I saw him in Michigan back in January, when some of the songs were still coming to be and he was at the tail end of recording. So, having the final, finished product, instead of low quality youtube videos is just phenomenal.

I'm not trying to say that is lacks emotion because any project that Ben Folds does is far, far from that. It's an intensely personal effort. One of the best things about Ben it's his comprehension of pop and what makes it good; his ability to have fun with music, but also to allow it to be painfully honest.

Anyway, really, really great CD. I'd buy it a lot.

It's October, by the way. That means one thing for me: Seasonal Retail. DUN DUN. I started working Job Number 3 at Spirit again on Friday, which means, not counting yesterday, I worked a 50 hour week last week. This week, counting yesterday, I'll work 67 hours. Similiar pattern to continue until the end of the month. So, if I'm absent, please forgive me. I'm probably sleeping. It's been a long, long time since I've been this busy. I'm trying to prepare myself, but I fear the worst: blind work-daze where I start having nightmares involving locking keys out of buildings and cash registers eating my face. But, I keep telling myself this is good and it'll help me build up my savings, not to mention keep me active. I must tell you, after standing for 13 hours this weekend, sitting for 8 hours today sounded mighty fine.

I'm working at the Spirit on Cutler, next to Linen's N Things. Come visit!


How on earth little Filipino man sounds exactly like Steve Perry is still a mystery. But, he does. It's freakish. Kyle, his cousin Brianna, Marky and me braved the elements on Saturday and saw Journey at the Pavilion. Completely worth it, if only to hear Neal Schon play the Star Spangled Banner to the best American pride graphics I've even seen in my life (and I've seen a lot of them). Lots of hits were sung, lots of emotional swaying was done, good Saturday night.

Lastly, I need to talk some more about Ben Folds. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! I will die happy.

Laughing away sunburn.

In Ben Fold’s iTunes originals series, he does an Elliot Smith cover and before he plays it, he says a little bit about Elliot Smith, what a loss his death was and so on. But Ben also says one of the most profound things Elliot ever told him was “If you grow up with yelling in your house, the last thing you want to do is make records of yelling.” Ben goes on to talk about how this little rule might sum up what’s so wrong with modern rock music: “yelling as recreation”.

But, that quote made me think a lot about punk rock in general, not modern rock. There’s just as much yelling, so why are so many drawn to it, in this day and age of 60% divorce rate? Because it really does that, it draws you in. You remember it. You were there. That feeling of complete curiosity, but total knowledge at the same time. Because, if only for 5 minutes, your adolescent self found a comfort zone.

Maybe they yell because no one else is. Maybe it's about what isn't said in your house growing up.

I’ve always considered my punk rock discovery as particularly unique because of being from Raton. In larger cities, I would assume it would be easier. Lots more access to CDs, knowledge, locals shows, but in Raton, It was a special breed. But also isolated. Hardly anyone came in from the outside to disturb what me and my friends deemed “punk enough”. We evolved on our own, made it our own. Nothing was outlawed; skateboards, ska, metal, pop... Matt Floyd, the man who got me into Rancid, was a cheerleader in high school.

Most of the time when me and Matt hung out, the first thing he would do was get into my car and remove whatever CD I was listening to, no matter what it was, and play something he wanted to hear. Then, we'd spend an hour or so circling the streets of Raton, back and forth, back and forth, talking about music and whatever girl he had his eye on. And then one day, he left his copy of "...And Out Come the Wolves" in my CD player. Normally, as soon as his CD left my player, I put mine back in. But this time, I kept it in. I heard it, it was there, and I'll always remember it. I went home and used my fantastic dial-up connection to order every one of their albums on interpunk.com.


And ever since then, they've been it for me. No, they're not the most prolific or complicated of bands. Some of their songs could even pass as pop. But I have always found them to be honest. And most importantly, I found them. And they've been there for everything. Leaving Raton, starting college, difficult breakups, boys who never worked out, my parent's divorce, my dad's re-marriage, graduating college, and most recently, the fire at the bar and Annie. When I left town for a few days after Annie died, the first thing on my iPod was my "Down and Out Rancid" mix.

The first time I saw them live was at Warped Tour in 2001 in Denver. It was pouring rain. The interweb tells me Denver got an inch and a half of rain that day, and I'd say most of it fell during Rancid's set. I spent their set hiding under a pizza box with my friend Winnie.

I saw them a few more times at Warped Tour, which are really just teaser sets, since they only get half an hour. The first time I saw them in Albuquerque was in December of 2003. They played with Tiger Army and I went with Marky and Andy. It's important to note that I have always been a Tim person. I think there are Tim-Rancid fans, and Lars-Rancid fans. I have always been and will always be a Tim fan. My blog from that day: "Rancid kicked. Me in my face. With a damn smile. I ended up in the front row, dead center, staring at Tim's glowing body thier whole set. I almost dies from being smashed, but as I was so grandly reminded, when the music hits, I feel no pain at all.

The pain totally paid off. Not only did I get what I believe to be the best view of the show, but Tim looked directly at me and smiled. It was the best thing ever. No, the best thing ever is that he gave Mark his pick and Mark gave it to me. So, now, I have Tim's pic in my greedy little hands. Weee!

Me and Tim will run away and fall in love very soon I'm sure."


Thus begins the story of the orange guitar pick, my constant companion for the next 2 years. I never, ever took it off until I did my chest project. I started wearing it as a bracelet and somewhere in the next few days, I lost it. Heartbroken is the choice word, but I tried to not to think about it and pretended that it was just somewhere lost in my room.

But somehow, another two years later, of all the hands that reached out to touch Tim Armstrong looked straight at me, grabbed my hand, and slid another orange guitar pic into it. He pointed and smiled at me, and ran backstage.

At that point in my life, everything was changing. And that specific night, I was running on fumes, I hadn't slept more than an hour in 3 days, I had just come back from camping. So, I just completely lost it. I tell everyone I was like a 15 year old girl at a N*Sync show.


I really don't need to explain. I know everyone reading this has that, had it, knows exactly where I'm coming from. Tonight I'll be there again, screaming lyrics and fighting for air. And hoping for another orange guitar pick.

Ben Folds is not pissed off.

There is a man with a piano on that stage.

And how was Mr. Ben Folds? Well, he was pretty awesome. As a preformer, he managed to get probably the most diverse crowd I've ever seen totally in sync. Not easy.I thought his set was going to be a lot of older material since he wasn't touring to support an album. However, it ended up being a preview of lots and lots of new material since he's working on a new album. And oh man, what a great album it will be. He didn't seem to have it all together yet, some words and parts were still improvised. That's a great musician right there. He closed with "Bitches Ain't Shit" because he said it was appropriate for a Folk Fest.

The actual folk festival was okay. Neal Copperman prepared me well in the field of folk, so I definitely could appreciate what I heard, even though it's not my favorite. Natilia Zukerman was probably my favorite of the other artists, female slide guitarists are always okay by me.

Lots of sleep has been happening and I think I really needed it. No real, set plans for the week and I like it that way.