Abject.

At the end of January I mailed away for Wheel of Fortune tickets. The show is coming to Chicago to film espisodes for a few days in March. I don't even like the show, but thought it would be something cool to do - and most definitely to blog about. The instructions were very clear and simple, but sadly you only could pick one taping time you wanted (out of about five). A self address stamped envelope needed to be included and the rules clearly said those that did not receive tickets would not get their envelopes back. Fine.

Yesterday when I got home I saw my envelope. I almost pooped my pants. I was so excited. Happy. Over-joyed. Surprised. Elated. You get the picture. I dropped my things, tore that envelope open, and pulled out... a sheet of paper. No tickets. The glossy paper had some stupid photo of Pat & Vanna and a letter to tell me (I suck) that they got so many requested that they did not have enough for everyone else.

Bummer. Sadness. Sadcakes indeed.

I hate Wheel of Fortune even more now.

Arctic.

I love the winter. I delight in the snow and the cold temperatures. I've written about this many times. And I totally understand it's partialy because of two major reasons:

1. I grew up in California without snow, so I am not sick of it.
2. I do not have to commute/drive in it so I don't get so stressed about it.

This is the first winter that is starting to push my buttons a little. The problem is that we have been getting so much snow (45 inches this year / 13 last year) and that leaves less time for bright blue sunny days. It's the overcast days that get to me... and all the ice on the ground. This morning I slid about two feet and was shocked I did not fall on my butt. I am fine with it being ten degrees outside, as long as the sun is shining.

I will be happy when Spring is here. Hopefully this Spring is not like most Chicago Springs (baseball games with snow).

Advice.

Just over a week ago one of the interns for the company I share office space with was handing out the new demo (CD-R) tape of his band. He was asking everyone for their opinions about it. He walked over to my desk and asked me if I wanted one. I clearly told him that I would give it a listen BUT I would be extremely honest in my review of it. I even told him I'd be super blunt about my findings. He went on an on about how that is what he was looking for (although he looked a bit nervous) and he would never grow if everyone lied to him about how great it was.

I got home and even though I did not want to listen to it... I put the CD on the stereo. Two words: Not good. One word: Awful. Ten more words: Sounds like a bad slow jam Stained (the band) wanna-be. That evening I had to go pick up the Aussie so bought the demo to play in the car. I made the Aussie listen to the three very painful songs. At first the Aussie was trying to be nice, but once I explained that this was an intern, not a close friend, the truth came out. Wow. Bad. I can understand someone wanting to sound like bad corporate rock (bruthas got get paid), so that is not the point of my disdain. The point is (there are two)... people in their younger twenties should not be making boring ass music (you should be angry with the world, not willing to sell out), and his vocals were unlistenable. Really. The boy cannot sing.

So what to say? Well the next time the intern was in the office he came over to my desk and wanted my thoughts. I told him point blank that it was boring and the vocals are awful. His expression resembled a tiny bit like the expression one would give if I shot his puppy. I did let him know the good points (it sounded like they could play their instruments), and I made sure not to come across as elitist or pompous. He tried to argue his case saying it was just an 8-track recording... blah blah blah. I ended our little conversation by giving him a copy of Mark Kozelek's (from the Red House Painters) amazing versions of AC/DC songs so maybe that would help him think differently about how to approach music. He went into the bathroom for ten minutes.

I don't think what I did was wrong, but some people in the office seem to think that I was a little too harsh. Sure I thought it was funny… but I was trying to help too. I don't think anyone else took the time to talk to the intern about it. And the last time I saw him he was determined to give me the next demo he records.

Accomplishment.

I have written from time to time my lack of being a strong reader. Yes, I know how to read- and I read every day (at least the newspaper and all the crap at work). But I am not one of those people who can just sit down and read a book from cover to cover. Harry Potter books take me months. It's also very hard for me to sit still for that long... I am not one to go to a double feature. To read a book you need to be able to just sit down and read. It is a tough challange for me. So reading twenty pages here, ten pages there... well getting through a book takes a long time, and it is easy to lose interest.

This book (Love is a Mix Tape) that inspired my last week's post is in the finished pile for me. It is the first book I read is two sittings. Ever. I read about forty pages two weekends ago, and then yesterday I sat on the couch and finished it. Sure it's only about 220 pages long - but I was completely absorbed with. LP was impressed.

Yea for an good personal accomplishment, and yea for a good book.

Mix Tape: Friday.

Good Old Days 1989-1992
Why Do Men Have Breasts?
The House (F-ed Up Mix)
What's The Buzz?
I Love Girls
The Mall
Retard
Who Is It?

On the last day of my week of the mix tape I realized had so many great picks in a desk drawer full of gems to write about. My pick was a tape my friend Keith made me a while ago. I am not sure when he made it since there is no date on the tape (remember to always put the date on your mix tapes!) but if my memories serves me right it was when I lived in NYC. So the tape is around ten years old. And the recordings on it are closing in on twenty years old (wowzers).

My pal Keith was the king of the mix tape. He should of had stock in TDK. Each time he got into a car he had made a new mix tape just for the drive... even if it was a five minute drive. This is a tape of recordings Keith and I made in our teens, all made at his home recording studio / bedroom. We were so obsorbed with spinning records, recording techno (mostly jungle and house) and rap songs. Hey, don't laugh - I was a great lyricist. And Keith created some of the most amazing beats. He spent hours upon hours working on his next recordings... and he never spent any time on school work (he was a terrible student). These recordings have stood the test of time, not because they are so good, but because they are a snap shot of my youth and remind me what I wanted to do, and how I had such a drive to do it. Sure, we never got the huge record deal - but we performed at some fantastic raves (remember those) and had a blast doing it. We were obsorbed with music and buying the next new cool 12" - we had no time or money for drugs.

I wish it stayed that way, but life cannot be frozen in one moment. I feel I made choices (good and bad) that helped me grow in a positive direction. Sadly, Keith seemed to make the wrong decisions and bad luck kept following him. And this tape of our time together being creative and goofy only comes in less than thirty minutes long, but it spands so many years, and such a great friendship. I just hope Keith is passing out his mix tapes in heaven - he would get heaven dancing, I am sure of that.