I return from the Ether!

I was in Brooklyn on Friday, hotbed for Modern American Hipster Culture. You know what? Call them what you will, that place felt like, and was for a few years, home for me. But that's not the purpose of this entry.

One of the many people I was hanging out with in Brooklyn was my friend Fernando, a punk rock fellow I've known since 2003 when we were hanging out at the Town Grind in Denville. We were at a delightful watering hole known as the Double Windsor, drinking the greatest beer I've ever tasted in my life.

So he asks me about my favorite beer, and I told him, well, this one, right now, that we're both drinking. And he says, would you consider this the Husker Du of beers? I was a bit taken aback, I'd never compared beer to music before, let alone, how do I compare a beer I like to one of my favorite bands of all time?

The question of what beer I would compare to Husker Du was never answered, BUT I found a far more appropriate comparison for the beer we were drinking. The beer we were drinking, I suppose I should share, is the 2011 edition of Goose Island Bourbon County Stout. It's a beer that is so heavy, so flavorful, and so strong that it takes a long time to drink. It's that intense. I struggled to find the words, because he was asking me to compare two things that, while related in very tangential ways, really don't have much to do with each other. After all, you experience them using different senses. One is strictly audible, the other experienced 80% through taste, 15% through smell, and 5% through sight. But I was able to figure it out.

I wound up finding one single, solitary song to compare this beer to, and it's a song that I would consider timeless but not at ALL for the impatient, superficial or faint of heart. That song is "Mountain Jam" by the Allman Brothers. It sounds a bit insane, but trust me, the comparison holds water, in my opinion.

The first thing that I have to say is that neither this beer nor the song is for everyone. In fact, a select few would seek either out. The Allmans have experienced great success throughout their career, mainly for being a band that has moved forward while still keeping the essentials of their sound intact. The most salient aspect of the band is their thirst for improvisational euphoria, and "Mountain Jam" is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of this spirit. I'm moving away from the beer here, but beer snobbery is not the point of this. Rather, it was the comparison I drew (which, I swear, I'm getting to).

Anyway, the thing about the greatness of the song in question partially lay in the fact that it is a song for true fans only, true music fans, and those who truly appreciate the band's mission statement. The song is a bit of a deep cut, if considered a classic. It's a staple of their live show, with good reason. There is SO MUCH going on in that song. The melody is instantly recognizable. And it truly exhibits the depth of their talents, as individuals and as one unified band. It takes a certain type of person to be able to sit through the whole song. It's 33 minutes long. Thankfully it's broken into sections and solos, but I believe that it holds up as a great single opus. To me it represents a near perfection of musicianship. A command of song-craft, an ability to tweak someone else's musical ideas to your own will, and an adventurous and experimental spirit all coincide to create something truly great. While neither guitar player who appeared on the original live take remains in the band, the fact that they established such a remarkable musical presence is all that is needed to be considered when admiring the merits of this song, both on the "Eat A Peach" take and also in their current incarnation. The spirit of improvisation, the necessity of being a skilled and tasteful musician, and that adventurous spirit.

The song is an EVENT. Anyone with 33 minutes of spare time should try to listen to it, but not everyone who does will be able to get through the whole thing. The best version, by far, is the Filmore East outtake from Eat a Peach. Like the rest of the Filmore East performances, the sweat dripping from the players' faces is nearly audible, and very much visible in the mind's eye. The work that they would put into their performances is legendary, and still very much a part of them as a touring entity.

While it is an event, it is only an event to be enjoyed on a very limited basis. There are only so many times that one can listen to this musical powerhouse. There is so much going on, and there is so much history behind the song, and by no means is it an easily digestible pop song.

I wish to the gods that I could remember all of what I had told Fernando about this song, and express that all here, but suffice it to say, I would have to put this song on my all time favorites list because of its musical depth, it's requirements of patience and focus, and the sheer power of the band as a musical force. I can't listen to it every day, and one should not. However, repeated listens will always reward the listener with new and different sonic layers.

This entry was not as focused and well thought out. The main point is this: I love writing about music, and at Fernando's behest, I did the best I could to write about this based on his urging that I move forward with writing about music. After listening to me rant, he expressed his sincerest admiration for how I said what I did about the song (and the beer), and basically threatened me with disembowelment if I did not continue. So here you go. This is my return to music blogging. It has nothing to do with journalism, or criticism, or anything like that, but it is me expressing, in my possibly psychotic way, how music makes me feel, and how it impacts my life, and how it is nearly ALWAYS the first thing that I think of. I promise, something more coherent will come about in the future. So, thanks, Fid, for giving me a solid kick in the ass to do this thing that apparently some people know how to appreciate.

RiotFest...

I hope I never get too old

To the point where seeing

Some of my favorite bands play

And scream along to some of my favorite songs of all time

And I leave a show not dripping sweat with a hoarse voice

When I wake up in the morning after such a show

That I can barely move

But every painful turn of my head

Isn't worth it

I hope I never get too old

That screaming along to "Trusty Chords"

Doesn't make me forget about all of life's troubles

That seeing Samiam

Doesn't remind me what made me love them back when I was 17

That getting hit in the face because I'm too close to the pit

Or in the pit itself

Makes me shudder and think to myself

This is beneath me

That when some stranger has his arm around you

While you're belting out songs along with the rest of the crowd

Doesn't make you forget that this is music you love more than any other

I never want to not be able to rage in a circle of punks

And I never want to NOT risk injury

To protect other people from unwanted flailing arms

I love punk rock

I will always love punk rock

I always want to be able to feel

That screaming my abdominals into soreness

is some sort of catharsis

And a break from cubicle chattle

I never want to be too old

That the fact that I can't speak

Because I am so hoarse and my voice is shot from screaming/shouting/singing along

Doesn't speak for itself

I always want to know

What it feels like to be surrounded by strangers

Who love the same things you love

But it's even better because you're with

A few people who always felt, and still always feel

The same way that I do

I loved RiotFest. I love Fernando, and Dave, and Amanda, for this weekend. I love Hot Water Music, and the Holy Mess, and Samiam, and the Menzingers, and Larry & His Flask, and the Suicide Machines, and everyone else who I saw at RiotFest. I love every feeling that I had on Saturday, INCLUDING getting hit in the face, and having dudes nearly crush my elbow.

I love punk rock, and I love being a punk.

Pretense is dead; long live pretense

I was on the metro going back to my apartment from a friend's in Friendship Heights. At the Tenleytown-AU station a whole cadre of young AU freshmen hopped on. My first reaction was holy crap was I really that young? Did I really look that young? They looked like high schoolers! But now it has me thinking about what I learned once I got to American. I became acutely aware of indie hipsters, scenesters, whatever you want to call them. I was suddenly thrust into a world of irony and pretension.

My main problem with these hipsters, I've come to see, is an issue of being somewhat disingenuous despite a claim to be so advanced and cultured. In the indie rock world is a high level of pretension. The goal seemed, at this time, to do things just for the sake of appearance. Band were arty, without being "good," for the sake of appealing to the overeducated and overexposed people that I came across in those early days. Early days, jeebus I'm starting to sound like an old man. With this artiness came a seeming lack of passion in whatever the practitioners were doing. So many of the hipsters just seemed to not care about what it was they were doing or listening to or experiencing, almost to prove that they were so much cooler than anyone else they were surrounded by, despite claiming that it was something they truly enjoyed. A lot of times they were ex punk rock kids who, once they reached a certain age, decided that it wasn't "cool" enough. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, especially when you look at my previous entry where I fawned like a school girl over London Calling.

For me, there should never be anything ironic about music, and there should never be a pretense about being blase about something that is meant to invoke strong emotion. For me, if you like something, there is no reason to pretend not to, or to pretend to like it ironically. The worst is to pretend to be dispassionate about anything, ESPECIALLY music. When done right in my mind, the musician is expressing how they truly feel and it should come out in the music. He or she is sharing their passion with those who care to listen to it. It's insulting, if you ask me, to devalue what the artist has done. And those who create art with such a seemingly lukewarm attitude is an insult to the art itself. If you love a band, don't say "oh yeah, they're PRETTY rad," say "That is a great band." And if you don't love a band, don't fake it to fit in to be cool or hip. ESPECIALLY if you dislike a band. Journey is a hip band to like ironically. I hate Journey. I'll never pretend to like Journey to fit in with the skinny jeans wearin' folks at Wonderland Ballroom who try to lead a full bar in a chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'".

I hope they didn't actually lose their passion for music the way many of them seem to have. I hope I never lose my passion for music or great art or great film. I hope I don't lose my love for tacky shit I actually enjoy. Music has been what keeps me going on good days and bad, and if I lost this passion what else would I have? What else would I have if "It's Hard to Know" by Hot Water Music DIDN'T make me grab my shirt and belt out the final choruses of "Live your heart and never follow?" The last thing I want to be is a disingenuous drone who pretends for the sake of being cool. I would be a let down to myself and isn't that the worst thing in the world to think of?

Music is a very special thing, and it irritates me when people devalue it for the sake of being hip. Don't lie to yourself or others about what hits you in your gut when you hear or see it. Zealots of the indie world are just as bad as the shallow tastemakers of pop radio and MTV.

More Rock and Roll Ramblings

I've written about the Clash's London Calling before, and it looks like I'll be writing about it again. I was at work today and I was walking to pick up lunch for me and my boss, so I was listening to my iPod as I do. Then, the song "Death Or Glory" off the aforementioned record came on. This is very quickly becoming my favorite song on a record full of killers, and there are lots of reasons why this album remains in my all time top ten desert island records.

First of all, it's an adventurous records. The Clash were a punk band that was never tied down by ANY genre conventions, experimenting with reggae, rockabilly, pop, jazz, etc. Actually, they did not just experiment, they truly went into each style, and yet they approached EVERYTHING with an attitude and intensity that made them more punk than the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Damned, and every other punk band in that critical era of gestation. They were then, and they still remain, THE quintessential punk band as far as I am concerned. They were angry and full of fire, like all good punk bands, but they radiated constructive fury, positive thinking and idealistic outlook that was missing in those early days and it really came out on the London Calling record. I've listened to that record for ten years and it remains as vital and influential to me as it did when I was a 14 year old twerp trusting his cool uncle's musical taste.

Ten years is a long time to listen to one record, and for it to be as important at 24 as it was when you were 14 is testament to the power. There are a lot of memories that I hold in so many of those songs.

The title track was my first introduction to the record, of course. The opening chords stab the ears with propulsive, incisive force and only hint at the bleak imagery that was hinted at in the lyrics. The music video which I saw much later is such a dark video that it may as well have been shot intentionally in black and white. Strummer, Simonon and Jones moved in the lock step fashion of front line soldiers, shouting out the title as if they were barking orders. When you're 14 years old and your main definition of what punk is is bands like Green Day, Nirvana, Blink 182 or in my case the Lower East Side Stitches (thanks Julie!), you expect punk music to be a wall of distorted guitars at breakneck speed, and yet here was a song that was slowed down with lots of space between the chords. My memories of this song include diving into the record on my discman on the bus to and from school and it was the national anthem I wanted to hear before class started. It was the song that woke me up in the morning and it was the song I always wanted to hear before I fell asleep. It was the song that played in my head constantly as I was getting ready to move to London for the fall of 2006. It was the song that I sang out loud on a boat on the Thames River at night. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I stood on that boat deck, and 20 years old, I was still playing air guitar and moving side to side in rhythm with the music. It was the song Daniel and I cranked up as we pulled out of the car park on Gardiner Close in Ponders End, the address of Robbins Hall at Middlesex University, at the end of our all-too-brief three month friendship. It is a song that brings back memories, yet it is a song that could easily foreshadow our future as a civilization and it is a song that STILL lets me know that as a musician I have a LONG way to go. This song is the reason I still wear the same ratty, holey Clash tshirt I bought when I was 15.

London Calling also gave me my first taste of rockabilly with "Brand New Cadillac." The opening guitar line alone instantly transformed me back in those days into a '50s greaser and whenever I put on my black jeans, Speed Kings bowling shirt and Converse All Stars, that was the song that I always had in the back of my mind. When I was 14, 15 years old I was pretty uncool in the grand scheme of high school, and this was the song that made me realize that what the others thought was "cool" didn't matter. If the Clash wasn't cool, then I didn't want to be cool, and this was the song that gave me that courage.

"Jimmy Jazz," "Hateful," and "Spanish Bombs" are all killer tracks, and there is nothing bad anyone can say about that. "Rudie Can't Fail," though, is a standout among the next few. This was my first taste thought I didn't really know it at the time of ska music that wasn't slicked up pop rock on MTV or fluffy horseshit shoved down the throats of young christian teenagers. In college, at a punk show on campus, this was a song chosen by a fellow named Hunter for the four of us to cover. A certain fellow decided to put together a band with three other people he knew, in addition to himself. He would play bass, Hunter would play drums, Jessica would sing and I would play guitar. I'd known Josh from two or three other times I hung out with him, and this was the first time we really got to swap stories, so he decided to form a band with a few of us. It never went anywhere, but me and Josh still constantly got together and jam that year on the songs we wanted to play. He became one of the best friends I had through college and he remains one of my best friends to this day. This song, in a way, is the song on London Calling that is the reason we became the friends we are today.

Josh and I would later do a radio show that year, and of course cuts from London Calling were played all the time. One song in particular that was played a great deal was "I'm Not Down," and this song has since become the musical symbol of my close friend. It's one of his personal favorites, and it is also a song that truly encapsulates who he is as a person. Most people know Josh as a very friendly, outgoing character that is always in a cheerful mood and that is who he is the vast majority of the time. Though you can't be close friends with someone and see them only in one light the whole time. Real friends see each others ups and downs. You have fun at concerts and parties with them, but you're also with them late at night, listening to feelings about ex-girlfriends, breakups, fights, futility of life, and failed political campaigns that meant so much at the time. I remember seeing Josh in low states, and he always came back, pushing ahead with his gung ho attitude, looking for the next outlet for our energy. THIS song IS Josh because no matter how low I've seen him, how "down" he may be, never stayed there for very long, and he still rises quickly, and makes sure that you are up there with him. One of my favorite songs for one of my favorite people.

Which brings me to "Death or Glory." Don't let the nihilistic/fatalistic title fool you. This song is full of life and zeal and brings to my mind images of going for it, in whatever it is, with all of the power you can muster. As stated before this is quickly becoming my favorite song from one of my favorite albums ever. The Clash recorded this song with such a furious passion that it almost sounds like it was the last song the band ever played together, and in light of Joe Strummer's tragic death in 2002, sounds like he played it as if he felt it would be the last song he would ever record in his life. Thankfully this was not the case, but the song drips with sonic immortality, both for the band and for Strummer himself. OF the many things I would like to do musically in my lifetime, some day I would love to play this song to an audience and dedicate it not only to the memory of one of my heroes but also to the band, who in their own right, as a single entity, is my hero. It's a very powerful song, and of all the explosive songs on this album, this to me is the sonic encapsulation of the image on the front cover of bassist Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the stage of the Palladium. The two punctuating band hits at the beginning of the chorus is the initial impact and the echo of the bass smash. That musical moment is catharsis for everyone who faces a struggle head on, and despite the lyrics, it is the sound of one who struggles NOT for glory or death. It is a defiant statement in my mind. One image that is forever ingrained in my mind, I first saw in the summer of 2006 at the Mt. Olive skate park where my friends in Dead End Saints were playing a show. There was a punk rock dude, a bit older than me, who had the silhouette of the bass smash tattooed on his arm, under which was also tattooed "Death or Glory." There are few musical tattoos that truly blow my mind, and this above all else is the music tattoo that is cooler than all others, my own included (Sorry Jawbreaker). Much like that tattoo will always be with that unnamed punker at the Dead End Saints show, this song, this album, and that album cover will be with me until I follow Joe towards the outer reaches of the universe.

The Clash was hyped as "The Only Band that Matters," and this record, their magnum opus, was hailed as the "Album of the Eighties." The older I get, the more I believe that the hype men were right about the band. Nobody did more, in my opinion, for the rock and roll genre since the 1970s, to expand the sonic and idealistic palette of rock and roll, while still keeping their feet and their heads in the spirit of what rock and roll truly should be. Forget for a moment The Clash as a punk rock band, and think of them as a pure rock and roll band. There will never be a band like them again, and there never was a band like them before them. I must, however, quibble with the statement that London Calling was the album of the eighties. This is true, without a doubt. I didn't grow up then so I can't say for sure. Its influence was heard all through out the 1990s alternative rock and hearing my uncle regale me with his tales of The Clash on Christmas Day 1999, the day I got my first pair of Doc Martens, was a riveting close to the 90s. As for me, this album holds up as the album of the first decade of the new millennium. In essence, this is THE album of the past 30 years, and looking at bands like the Beatles and the Stones, I KNOW that this album will continue to shine as a beacon of brilliant art and raw guts for the next 30, and the 30 after that. I would like to take this time to thank the band for releasing this record, Joe Strummer for his role in the band and for the music he created in his lifetime. I was crushed when he died, and this album alone would be reason enough to lament the fact that this world is a little bit lamer without him. I'd like to express my gratitude and love for my friends with whom I've shared this record, and a love for this record, like Dan and Josh. Most of all I have to give recognition to the reason for the fact that I love this album so much. If my Uncle Pat did not speak of this album so highly, to a budding young punk in fresh combat boots, I don't think I would be the person that I am today. I don't know who I'd be, what I'd be doing, where I would be, if I did not trust the musical judgment of my godfather. He would later be the reason for my love of the Smiths and the Cure, and, along with my mother, the Allman Brothers Band. All of those amazing bands aside, the fact that he introduced me to London Calling by The Clash (among the other most excellent things he's done for me and my family) is the reason why I believe that I will some day make a fantastic uncle to some budding young rocker in the future. I can't thank my Uncle Pat enough, and I remain in his debt for this even AFTER buying him a London Calling t-shirt during my stay in London. I got so "rude and reckless" thanks to my Uncle Pat.

Before my brain and writing atrophies....

Yes, it has been a very long time since I've written here and for some reason I felt the need to do some more writing about music.

I have opinions, like everyone does, about a lot of things. I have opinions about politics, religion, ethics, movies, books, sports, food...basically everything you can have an opinion on, I have an opinion on it. And yet, I find that most of my opinionated brain power is dedicated to expressing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc about music in its various forms. In the grand scheme of life itself I know a lot of people will debate really how important it is to spend so much brain power diving headlong into your favorite songs, and really dissecting them from a musical, lyrical, visual, and emotional standpoint.

I can never get my head around the concept of someone who enjoys music in a purely background noise manner, or whose only connection to a favorite song is a pleasing sound or a danceable beat. There's nothing wrong with it but it's something that I can't ever bring myself to understand. For me, this stopped being the case I'd say a good 15 years ago, and it became the focal point of my life, where I would make sure that every night I would be able to listen to my little red stereo with the hope to hear my favorite songs. I suppose this all-consuming rock and roll obsession started from a desire to hear songs I thought just sounded cool- it truly became so much more than that in my life.

Thankfully I started at a young age and the music was already there when I started growing up. Growing up in white picket fence suburbia there were all sorts of expectations on everyone, and as those of you who know me already have learned I rejected those expectations, for one reason or another. Or they rejected me, I don't know. Regardless, whenever shitty things in life happen we turn to certain things for comfort or explanation or just to make sense of things. Some turn to religion, and that never made sense to me. Raised Catholic, I never got any sense of comfort from "religion" or "faith" in a "god figure"; scripture passages I don't think were written for awkward teenagers trying to navigate hostile environments like gym class, school dances, breakups, struggles with identity, etc. etc. What always made sense to me was playing, and listening to, music. Comfort came from music in so many different ways. In high school when I realized I had no interest in sports or the big popularity contest that high school was, I took comfort listening to Social Distortion. I took comfort in hearing that Mike Ness felt the same way when he was my age. When I was fed up with the sociopolitical apathy of my high school peers, I took comfort in knowing that there were artists who were just as angry and were talking about it. Joe Strummer and Zach De La Rocha validated my then-misguided anger. When I struggled with peer alienation and felt out of step with most people I knew, Dropkick Murphys gave me hope that some day, somewhere, I would find friends who would pick me up when I was down, and make me want to keep going at things full speed ahead. When I was overcome with bitterness and hurting, music by Jawbreaker told me that the same shit has happened to other people before, everywhere, and that it was normal and okay for me to feel slighted and angry, yet confused. I was able to find meaning in all of those songs that struck me in the right place at the right time, and somehow being able to relate to these musicians, I found a comfort that transformed into a strength, an inspiration. If there's one thing that ties all these artists together, named and unnamed, it's that at some point they were out of step with their peers, and struggling to find their own meaning in the events of their lives. They needed a way to make sense of what they saw and felt.

I'm fortunate in that I can make my own music, and it serves the same purpose now as all those songs in the past did, and that many of them still do.

Inspiration to write comes at the stupidest times...

Inconsistent, yes. Insignificant? Maybe.

Well, here we are again, months between entries. But that's okay. This is something I do for shits and giggles, I'm not graded on it, I'm not paid to do it. Everything is always easier when you do it because you want to do it, not because you have to, not because you're expected to. But just because.

Occasionally something in my life will happen, be it political, social, cultural, artistic, that will give me something to say. Let me get this right off the bat before I get into the reason for this dispatch from CapCity

A) Tragedy struck the DC area today, as two trains collided on the metro near Fort Totten and Takoma Park. Six people are dead, and MANY more are injured, and my heart goes out to the families of those who've lost loved ones. As far as I know, nobody that I knew was involved; time will tell. Reminds me that, hey, bad things happen and we can't let ourselves forget that things can change in a second

B) Iran, the 800 pound gorilla in the room. It is a terrible thing to read every day that more die in street clashes because of a contested election. I want to hope that a revolution happens in Iran, that will bring the country into real democracy. However, this democracy can not come from the west. What changes happen in the country must come from within; One must remember that it was the United States who installed the Shah on what was a thriving democracy in the 1950s. It was this meddling that resulted in the reactionary Islamic Revolution and the subsequent hostage crisis. Humanitarian aid would be fine should the need arise; nothing more.

Anyway, enough of my current events opining and the time has come for me to discuss something that I have more than merely cursory knowledge of, and that is music.

Every now and then I get the cockamamie idea to listen to something that was, at one time in my life, highly influential, that I tend to have shifted away from in the ensuing years. Occasionally it holds up, occasionally it's difficult to listen to, but I never regret those albums, as they all had an effect on how I would hear music and think about music.

However, occasionally there is an album from the past that I will hear again, and realize how incredibly well it holds up. Today was one of those occasions, and that album is the 2002 Roadrunner Records debut from Massachusets-based metal/hardcore band Killswitch Engage, entitled Alive or Just Breathing. At the time this record was released, they were part of a scene that was only starting to rear its head in the American music scene, before America finally started producing quality metal bands again. Before then, the only good metal bands were European, or at least as far as I was concerned. Then I heard some music from their first album and thought KsE were Swedish.

Then came this record. I kind of expected a much more Swedish death metal sound, and was surprised when I heard riffs that were much closer to sounding a bit like hardcore bands like Hatebreed or Madball, but still had strong metal roots. This was before it became standard to combine tough-guy hardcore breakdowns and attitudes with metal riffage.

What really stuck out to me about Alive was how melodic and positive and spiritual it is. I mention the band Hatebreed; while a lot of their lyrics have a positive message hidden under lyrical bile, Killswitch's lyrics are so clearly born of a love, passion, and spiritual connection to the human race.

Original vocalist Jesse David Leach had something special that was at its best on this album, which proved to be his last with the band, as throat issues and family commitments forced him off the road. He was capable of blood-curdling shrieks, hell-hound growls, and one of the most wrenchingly beautiful singing voices ever heard in metal or hardcore. He combined all of these elements in such a way that takes this band and album far beyond anything released since, just in terms of emotional depth.

The musicianship is also astounding. From a guitarist's perspective, this album has some insanely muscular riffing that is equally galloping and stomping, savage and sweepingly melodic. This band also uses dynamics astoundingly well, opening three songs with gently strummed acoustic passages before letting loose with brutal modern riffs.

Often times, the guitars, bass and drums lock in on unison grooves that echo, to a certain extent, the machine-like precision of Fear Factory.

Now I would like to discuss one of the best-recorded heavy metal guitar tones of all time. Joel Stroetzl and Adam Dutkiewicz manage to have this GUT BUSTING guitar tone that does not fuzz out, it's not scooped out like lots of other metal bands, and it is so tight and articulate that even the fastest, lowest notes are distinguishable.

The rhythm section is also fantastic. Dutkiewicz, who I believe played most drums on the record, hits the double bass drums as well as the best death metal skinsman, and they propel the tracks into high gear.

Every song on this record is a keeper, full of chunky riffs, uplifting lyrics, and killer grooves and breakdowns. Somehow, they managed to find the perfect combination of horn-throwing metal and soul-clutching emotional hardcore. Tracks like "Numbered Days," "My Last Serenade," "Just Barely Breathing" and "Temple from Within" feel like life-affirming self-sacrifice, followed by being purified in crystal waters. It shreds the sould into sinewy strands before the ultimate healing.

The best song, by far, on the album, "The Element of One," is the culmination of everything great about this band. It begins with a gentle acoustic passage, that gives way into a hammering rhythmic chug, with a melodic yet savage lead guitar pattern, before a Tyranasaurus-sized riff and a harrowing growl from Leach gets the song going at maximum power. Meanwhile, Leach's lyrics proclaim his desire to see someone (supposedly his wife), and proclaiming his love for this entity. "This is for you," he shouts during the bridge, "Everything I am/This is for you/take it from me." Then, the band soars during the chorus as he commands, "Breathe me in, I'm forever, breathe me in, I'm eternal." Equally heart-rending and beautiful.

After a gorgeously whispered bridge behind an understated acoustic guitar pattern, a throat-shredding scream gives way to a palm-muted guitar melody that comes the closest to a guitar solo on this album that serves as the perfect crescendo to an amazing song, before an excellent bridge section that has the band channeling classic epic metal gallops of old. The song finally ends with a lone bass figure, and it would be no surprise if listeners were drenched in sweat after hearing this in their homes or their cars.

The album goes on after that, and the rest of the songs sound great. But this, in my opinion, was the song that made the album as influential on me and Dave as it was, and this was the song on the album that he and I listened to EVERY DAY as we went through Hardcore Puberty.

Needless to say, I think this album holds up incredibly well. Every song still gets me the way they did when I bought the album back in 2003, and this album stands up far beyond any of those other hardcore and "metalcore" records that I bought then and since. I feel it is safe to say that this record will always hold a place on my playlist, and may actually hold a place in my Desert Island Discs collection.

For fans of heavy, passionate and melodic metal/hardcore, this is the album that can not be beat and must be listened to.

Federal TeaBagging

Yes, the title is crude. But anyway, that's besides the point.

I watched the news today and read the news and saw that lots of people unhappy with American tax policy were throwing Tea Parties across the country in protest.

I'm all for organized protest in showing discontent for screwed up federal policies. First of all, the tea parties during the 1700s were in protest of Taxation without REPRESENTATION. Last I checked, the only place in the country that is taxed without representation is Washington DC, a part of the country that has consistently vied for active representation in Congress, and has typically been shut down by the Republicans in the government.

The irony of this is that the tea parties were overwhelmingly a Republican and conservative action.

The main issue, as far as I can glean, surrounding said parties has been the bailouts of various financial institutions (and the auto industry) using taxpayer dollars. I understand that these institutions have dropped the ball regarding the money of the public and in that sense I am behind these protests. However, the initial bailouts were authorized by the greatest Reagan wannabe of all time, Mr. W. But that's not important. What is is that taxes are necessary. I have no problem paying taxes as long as they will benefit me and the people in the long run. I don't agree with my tax dollars paying for senseless wars, but I have yet to take the appropriate actions to make sure my money doesn't go towards military spending. Moving on...

Without taxes there's no money for education or roads or other worthwhile things. But, moving back towards the bailouts...

Federal funding for corporations bothers me a great deal, especially taxpayer dollars for corporations. But, at the same time, there needs to be accountability on the part of these institutions like AIG, Goldman Sachs, GM etc. GM needs to start making quality cars that are fuel efficient and actually work. If they did that they wouldn't need the bailouts. And, while the people who took bad loans for homes they could not afford share the blame, these ridiculous loans and mortgages should not have been offered from a moral standpoint. It was a clear example of exploitation. In addition, there needed to be stronger government oversight and regulation, and my hope is that the government support of these institutions will result in stronger regulation and avoid collapses like this in the future.

Yes, I'm a socialist from a practical standpoint. But I believe that in this day in age regulation is required in order to stem this profiteering bloodsucking that has plunged us into economic collapse.

Scattered, yes, but I'd like to think that my opinion and a buck fifty can get you a cup of coffee, whatever that means.

Happy tax day everyone in internetland!

New Posting!!!!

So as all of you know by now I'm back in the US from my journey. I'm living in DC and looking for real work living with friends. Right now I have a job at Philadelphia Water Ice Factory, which sucks, but it allows me to make some money while I live rent-free with my friends. It's an easy job, even though my boss is an ass.

Anyway, this is a posting about my life, about music, about my life as a fan of punk rock music. It was inspired by two things. Number one was seeing a band play at the Red and the Black tonight, the other was watching the DVD of Instrument, the Fugazi documentary.

Seeing the show was a nice, unexpected event tonight. I was working and I sold some ice to a few dudes, one of which complimented my Social Distortion t-shirt. I decided to talk to them, and I saw a bunch of people moving music equipment into the bar a few doors down. Turns out the guys who bought my ice are a band from Boston called the Main Drag, and they were playing at the Red and the Black. They were cool and they put me on the guestlist for the show because they had no one to put on it. We talked about music and whatnot, and I told them I'd check out the show.

So, after my shift I went back to the house, showered and ate, and I went over to the show. They were really good, loud indie rock that actually managed to rock, which is a rarity in the genre these days. I talked to them after the show, all cool guys and whatnot and I came back here.

Then I watched the Fugazi DVD and it was just really inspiring that these four guys in Fugazi have managed to have a career spanning fifteen years, a great deal of influence, a fantastic ethic within their work, and more importantly, an incredible musical legacy.

My point is, I'm a musican and a music fan, and those two things will always define me more than where I am or what my job is or how I vote or my beliefs about religion or politics or anything. But I ask myself a lot of questions regarding my musical taste.

I've been a fan of punk music, I suppose, since I first heard the word and started hearing bands like Nirvana and Green Day. The years went by since those discoveries and I got into a little bit of everything, music-wise, and I started to discover the most important bands in punk rock, from the Clash's London Calling record to my recent days as a vinyl snob, listening to the New Day Rising LP by the great Husker Du. I've been listening to music like this since I was around 8 years old and I'm now 23.

I've noticed something about a lot of people who spent a great deal of time listening to punk rock. A lot of them start to move away from that style of music and start listening to indie rock or indie pop or post rock or something that just sounds pretentious and sounds like they're thinking way too hard about what they're doing. I'm friends with lots of people who were into punk rock but have moved on to Radiohead. And while most people here would say "Nothing against Radiohead but..." I'm going to go right ahead and say that I don't give half a flying shit about Thom Yorke or his crew of douchebags. That music bores me.

Having gone to a prestigious institution of higher learning filled with hyperintelligent people who listen to this seemingly hyperintelligent independent music I feel like I'm supposed to feel inferior for liking something as "base" or "simple" as punk rock, that the music is in some way the music of 16-year-old kids living in the suburbs and they can't possibly be mature or smart enough to understand the deeper meaning behind Sufjan Stevens' compositions. What, because I went to college I automatically have to start listening to some boring overthought crap? Or because I listen to punk rock I am not a thinking, intelligent person? Piss off, go wash your girls' jeans and white belt.

Greg Ginn from Black Flag has a degree in Economics, Greg Graffin from Bad Religion has a Ph.D. and teaches at Cornell (I think), and Dan Yemin from Lifetime/Kid Dynamite/Paint it Black is a child psychologist. This isn't about a pissing contest between the brains of punks vs. indie kids. Actually I'm totally sidetracked now.

The truth is that I'm always going to be into punk rock. For me it's rock and roll stripped down to just writing good songs and playing what you feel in the most direct way possible. Music for me, regardless of how much I think about it individually, is not about thinking. It's about feeling, and connecting to a song based on gut reaction. Rock and roll is a dirty thing, it appeals to the visceral, not the cerebral. Punk rock, more than any subgenre, hits me in the gut, musically and lyrically. There is something about the sound of Bob Mould's guitar playing on "Chartered Trips" that manages to raise me from a negative state of mind, and the singing of Blake Schwarzenbach appeals to me BECAUSE it is imperfect, scratchy and ugly. More importantly, his voice is honest. He is not covering it up with a fake pretty voice or digitally processing it. I hear a vocal line and immediately know that it's Blake.

Lyrically, punk rock is about as direct as it gets. It's storytelling, it's gut-level poetry and there's no ambiguity about the content. This is important to me, because it shows that whoever writes those lyrics knows that life doesn't need to be dressed up in metaphors about floating in space.

Even when it comes to music I'm hearing for the firs time, I almost always find myself shaken by a good punk band than a good post-rock band or a good indie-pop band or a good indie-rock band. I'm always going to be open to hearing new, different music, but I can almost guarantee that punk rock, in any form, is going to be what I go back to. I was never the punk with the tall mohawk or green hair and I never will be, and that's not what's important. I define my life based on the true tenets of punk rock, and that is doing my thing how I see fit and being true to who I am and how I feel. When it comes to music I will not be declared less "punk" because I prefer Fugazi to Minor Threat (related bands) or Jawbreaker to Oxymoron. They can judge me for those beliefs, but I know that the truth is that by sticking to MY ideals as opposed to the ideals of some jackass in a Casualties t-shirt, I will forever be more of a punk than that person. As long as I am still moved to the core by four distorted chords and an honest, unaffected shout, I consider myself a punk rocker, and I have never attempted nor do I plan on forcing myself to listen to any other music to conform to any hipster trend that says that it's cool to put a Moog on a record or write a series of albums named after places and record an overblown symphony fit for overly educated college kids who shop at American Apparel.

A lot of the stuff in question I haven't listened to, and I don't care if I ever do or not. I've listened to the Postal Service, Death Cab for Cutie, Bright Eyes, Pavement, the Mars Volta, Rilo Kiley, lots of bands like that. Those bands are not the bands I turn to when I'm feeling down, those bands didn't get me through high school and college. I got through my times, good and bad, with bands like Jawbreaker, Husker Du, Hot Water Music, Face to Face and others. They're the bands I listened to years ago, they're the bands I listen to now, and they're the bands I WILL listen to. And there are bands I've recently discovered that are still vital, like the Gaslight Anthem, Against Me! (less recently discovered), Smoke Or Fire, the Lawrence Arms, Dillinger Four, the Loved Ones, Thorns of Life and a whole mess of others, and these bands make me feel the same way that Jawbreaker and Husker Du make me feel.

Call me unhip if you want, but I never said I was hip.

A glaring omission

I was thinking recently about my occasional, music-related blog entries and why they belong on the only iPod that remains between me and the Noodle. Then I noticed that there was a musician, not just a band or anything like that, but a musician who is conspicuously absent. Those of you that know me and my obsessions in my musical taste should have noticed by now the lack of any mention of the punk rock Kerouac, Blake Schwarzenbach.

The trouble is, it´s nearly impossible to pick just ONE record that features this musical genius. Almost as hard, though not really, is deciding which of his bands from which to choose in album.

For those of you that don´t know, he was the guitarist/vocalist/songwriter for two very amazing bands, the seminal emocore/pop punk band Jawbreaker, and the more mature yet still rocking indie rockers Jets to Brazil. Which band I prefer kind of depends on the mood but I still find both bands very influential on my playing, and an album from each has made it to the Emergency iPod.

So, let´s discuss both of those records today.

First and foremost, and my preferred of the two, is Jawbreaker´s major label debut and swansong, Dear You. Yes, they were on a major label, and in fact, they have the distinction of touring with both Nirvana and the Foo Fighters, and they were close friends with the boys in Green Day in the heyday of the Bay Area scene in the late 80s and early 90s.

Each Jawbreaker album was a bit different. Unfun, their first, was full of fast, screamy, bitter pop punk with occasional experimentation within the punk confines. Bivouac, their second, was more progressive and a lot of songs slowed down the tempo. Yet somehow they don´t degenerate into hippie cheese, and also managed to write one of the best punk rock love songs of all time "The Chesterfield King". 24 Hour Revenge Therapy saw the band chase a much more conventional, yet still unique, strain of pop punk, even including a bit of humor in the song "Boxcar," where Schwarzenbach sings "You´re not punk/and I´m telling everyone/Save your breath/I never was one!" Brilliant.



MOving on to Dear You and why I think it´s their best record. To me, this combines everything that was great about all of their previous albums. It has the catchy, no-frills punk energy of 24 Hour, the borderlined experimentation of Bivouac, and the cutting lyrics of Unfun, but Dear You takes all of those elements to the next level.



It´s on this album where I think Schwarzenbach wrote lyrics that weren´t just cutting but also some of the most intelligent he wrote with Jawbreaker. Not to mention this record found him grafting the unconventional riffs of Bivouac to the pop of 24 Hour, as I said before. Take, for example, one of my favorite tracks "Accident Prone." It starts off with a moody, minor key riff that did NOT exist in most punk rock beforehand, and features Blake singing in a smoke-scarred croon, or the closes to a croon he had up to this point. But there are times when the song breaks into an almost doomy chorus, segueing at one point into a long interlude that goes into the stinging chorus one more time before the song ends. The whole album is kind of a roller coaster. There are songs liek "Bad Scene" that rock up and down with fun, catchy lyrics about a party, the bitter "Fireman" which goes from the moody, dark verses to the super catchy melodies and abrasive lyrics to the chorus, the absolutely livid, bitter "Sluttering" which features some of his best written yet most bitter lyrics throughout Jawbreaker´s catalogue, and the morose, beautiful "Basilica." it´s an amazing record, and there was no better way that hte band could have gone out. It wound up being their swansong, but as is the case with so many bands, it´s often because there´s no way to follow up something so great.

I think one day of Schwarzenbach fanboying is enough for you, loyal readers. Maybe an other day I will talk about Jets to Brazil, but for now...ta ta!

News is getting better

So, after two straight updates of angry political vitriol inspired by coffee and Hunter S. Thompson, I feel it is time for an update of much better news.

The good news is that I´m starting my work with Habitat for Humanity this week. I´m really excited, despite the fact that it will keep me away from my friends and family for just a little bit longer. Sometimes the spirit is moved to stay away and do things I can´t do anywhere else, and it seems that now is that time.

Anyway, outside of that, I recently started working as an English teacher. I started out with one student, but since things are picking up with my work I can´t continue with him. I do, however, have students on the weekends- Today I gave a lesson to a young brother-sister combo, which went better than I ever could have expected, and yesterday I gave a lesson to a man who is, for all intents and purposes, fluent and just needs vocab help- he´s reading The Lost World, by the late Michael Crichton, and just wants some help with some of the words. I like teaching English- it´s a challenge I had yet to experience.

In addition, this week I´m starting work at a local hostel. It sounds pretty easy and I get hooked up in terms of food and drink and laundry and internet, which is pretty awesome. I also get tipped, so that may take my wages a little bit higher. Plus it sounds like a fun job, so w00t to that.

Anyway, my first visits for Habitat start this Wednesday, with a bunch of houses around Xela. In addition, I´m stil volunteering at the weaving collective doing random stuff there.

Things are going well for the most part, and I´m looking forward to whatever fate holds for me next.


Though, I´ll add one more thing, and one more item to the Desert Island Discs (WHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!)

I came to this conclusion, that it was necessary to add another disc, the other day. It was a weekday morning on a day I didn´t have to teach English, and I was scrolling through my backup iPod at what we had put on there just in case, and after selecting this particular disc, I was reminded why it was there.

While very verbose in title, Right Now, You´re in the Best of Hands, but if something is Wrong, Your Doctor Will Know in a Hurry by Bear vs. Shark is one of those records that, in my opinion, came out of nowhere and changed everything.

I have a friend, who, when we were seniors in High School discovering all subgenres of hardcore and post hardcore music, would get almost anything that came out on particular labels, such as Victory, Equal Vision, Ferrett, Trustkill, etc. He picked up a CD one day by a band with a weird ass name, and I heard a little bit of it and thought it was cool, but didn´t think much of it.

Fast-forward to freshman year of college when another friend (who unfortunately I haven´t been friends with in a few years) was raving about Bear vs. Shark. So I finally decided to check it out in earnest.

WOW. It starts out with "Ma Jolie," a loud, midtempo, triumphant introduction, that segues into a quiet, melodic verse that supports intelligent, if not off-kilter lyrics and clean guitars. IT builds and builds when the distorted guitar comes in, and explodes into what one expects to be a chorus, that sees the lead singer go from melodic singing to the best post-hardcore scream this side of Hot Water Music, a band that merely suggested at what Bear vs. Shark was capable of.

This album falls somewhere between the meaty, two-guitar punk/post-hardcore and gruff vocals of Hot Water Music and the brainy, no-boundaries but still aggressive rock of the legendary Fugazi. Songs like "Campfire," and "Buses/No Buses" push and pull in that in-between space where hardcore, indie, emo and pop-punk inexplicably intersect. Other songs come off as the unholy spawn of classic 90s emo like The Promise Ring and the harsh, gruff aggression of bands like At the Drive-In, while "Kylie" begins with a jazzy chord progression and a vocal delivery that falls between spoken and sung, yet still giving away that smoky, raspy punk rock edge. And, when you least expect it, the 2nd guitar comes in, merely hinting at its potential fury. when it can no longer be held back, the song explodes into what, thanks to the initial dynamic, seems to be the loudest ending of a song ever written.

There´s a diversity in this album that few punk bands (or hardcore bands) this side of the Clash or Candiria has ever been able to convey. Where Bear vs. Shark succeeds where others fail is that they were able to maintain their undeniably punk rock energy. In addition, there was a forward thinking, progressive mindset that kept them firmly ahead of any other mere "punk" band. This energy, volume, progressive mindset, and ability to write fantastically melodic, almost pop songs, put Bear vs. Shark ahead of the post-hardcore pack at a time where the term came to mean screamy bands who all sounded the same or overly technical bands that lost their energy in trying too hard to be Fugazi. This album is impossible to become boring, and was unfortunately followed by one other album and tour that was ended midway through. Sometimes there is a band that exists for such a short time and puts out such a small catalog, but in terms of quality, puts catalogs 4 times that particularly large to shame.

In closing...

Dear Bear vs. Shark,

Please reunite. Perhaps so called alternative, hardcore or independent rock bands will learn what it truly means to combine such disparate elements and still be undeniably punk, progressive, and independent. Please....the world needs you.

I am really, really upset that I had to write this, but unfortunately there are people in the US, in 2008, who force me to...

Whoever wrote this rant at the bottom, which I urge ALL of you to read, is a bigot. I feel sorry for the gross level of ignorance that still pervades so many people in this country, and am ashamed to call myself an American as long as people like this author call themselves Americans. Especially considering the gross jingoistic tendencies that would cause poor souls like this author to proclaim himself to be the only true American.


In response to this author, the reason that African Americans and Hispanics didn..t vote beforehand is the same reason that ignorant racists like this author don..t vote: if neither of the candidates who actually stand a chance of getting elected do not represent what you truly believe in and who you believe truly has your interests in mind, there is little to know reason to participate. I understand this, and I understand the anger and disilusionment that comes with having a 2 party system where both parties are more or less the same. Obviously this author is disillusioned; George Wallace (I hope to christ readers know who he is) is dead, and the KKK and the United States National Socialist Workers Party (once again if you have any grasp of history past an 8th grade level you should know what the National Socialist Workers Party is) do not run viable candidates, if they..ve gotten their heads out of their bigoted asses long enough to organize politically.


Mr. Author..s assertion that African Americans still feel they are owed somethign is more or less astute. They do still feel they are owed something from white Amerikkka, and in all honesty, I am with them. The fact that they were freed from slavery, given the right to vote, and released from de jure (state sponsored) segregation means little if the power structure is still firmly controlled by rich white men who put policies into place that serve only to reinforce their economic, social and political power. You can change the laws all you want, but as long as we still live in a society that favors being rich, white and male above all other possibilities, we have a long fucking way to go before you can even talk about equality in the US with a straight face. What we owe to ALL people, including ourselves, is a dismantling of such an unfair power structure, and the casting off of every ugly, hateful stereotype that exists in bigoted rants like the one below.


For those of you who care, look around your neighborhood and try to tell me that it is not segregated. There may be no laws saying that they are segregated, but this will be the reality until A) Banks stop denying loans to African Americans and Hispanics based on racial stereotypes and B) People stop moving out as soon as nonwhites move in. I am ashamed, and will be, as long as such blatant, immature, outdated bigotry exists.


If you want a society where such things are accepted, please, move to India. The bigotry based on skin color and blatant classism is codified into law. Or, invent a time machine and go back to Alabama pre-1960s or Germany in the 1930s. Since you are white and obviously superior, I..m sure you can figure out a way to invent one. Or, if not, just leave. And, since you didn..t vote, and didn..t try to stop it, your argument is about as backward as the ideals you espouse.


There is no place in this country that has the potential to be so great for a close-minded ingoramus like this author. More importantly, I hope someday this author realizes that people like him have been making the United States of America an international disgrace and embarass the good people of this country. Good bye, and I hope you enjoy wherever you wind up.




This is my opinion, and if you dont like it, fuck you, I dont care. After all, I have this right. The only reason why Obama is even close to winning, is because all the black people finally decided to use the right they were GIVEN, the right to vote. Why does it take a black man to run for president to get you black people off your asses and vote. Every fuckin channel has the news interviewing black people, who are SO EXCITED to vote finally...HELLO JACKASS, you could have been voting this whole time, but no, you decided to wait til a half breed black man runs to exercise that right you "have fought to get for years". I didnt vote, if I did vote I would vote for Mac, however, that is irrelevant. The theme of this bulletin is point out how blacks still feel society owes them something, get over this shit. Our society dont owe you anything, or your parents, you werent a slave, no one in your immediate family was a slave. So in the words of my main man Arnold, STOP WHINING! About god forsaken time you decided to vote, because the next time there are two white men running, Im sure you will stay your ass home, drink your gin n juice playing domino's.


And one last thing, what was with the Black Panther members outside a polling site, one of which was carrying a night stick? Are you for real? We all know that they didnt get arrested to save the police the shame of it being racial profiling, god forbid the KKK stood at a polling site with a night stick. Fuckin nigs.

Update from the Guatemala Gonzo...

The writing should be on the wall for the GOP at this point. As if eight years of an inbread bigoted ape wasn´t enough, we have witnessed the conviction of Ted Stevens, the defection of heavy GOP hitters like Colin Powell et. al., the beating of Democratic staffers by goons of a Virginia congressman, and the rise of a politician so psychotic and so god damn clueless that it makes me foam at the mouth just to think about her. Not to mention, we have witnessed the rise of a politician who challenges the status quo of politics as usual in most tangible ways. First of all, at this point, it has become almost novel to hear a presidential candidate who not only speaks English PROPERLY, but doesn´t sound like some limp-dick recorded version of a high school graduation speech, written and performed by someone too disgraced to show up at the ceremony. There´s that, but there´s also the idea that he wants to do something for the PEOPLE of the United States (for the most part) as opposed to the corporate snakes who´ve sucked it dry, and have engineered, intentionally or otherwise, this gross economic collapse that may keep me down here in Guatemala indefinately, or until the coup that will inevitably follow any victory of the far right bloodsuckers of our country. The (mostly) good guys also have a plan to not only end a war that has cost nearly 5000 lives more than it ever should have, but also do everything it can not to erase this from the memory of the rest of the world, but to engineer some degree of a new leaf in a story that has witnessed the United States of America fall from world power to world embarassment and disgrace, strangled by the fascist reins of the Christian Right.

John McCain, I feel, is too senile to realize that his ship should be sinking, and I fear that the shock of winning at this point in his campaign would immediately induce a fatal heart attack, and elevate this wretched brainless redneck to the highest position of power in the world.

I used to have little to any problems with John McCain, thinking he was one of the few Republicans who wasn´t a slave to the far right fascists that have come to dominate the Republican party. He appeared to have his head on straight, and despite my disagreement with his policies, I was able to respect him for his balls to call psychopaths like Pat Robertson and the late, un-lamented Jerry Falwell "agents of intolerance," as that is the best way to sum up their psychoses.

Alas, McCain has fallen victim to the caveat that sucks in and traps all politicians- Pandering to those with Influence. Unfortunately, those with influence in the Republican party are those who profess hatred and intolerance about anyoen who does not conform to what they view as the coming Christian empire, an empire which can only be achieved through governmental regulation bordering on moral fascism and a program of extermination of all those in the world through war and economic strangulation of those who will not satisfy the far right´s bloodlust.

John McCain has been forced to succumb to this, and it breaks my heart that a man who was once a uniter will continue to fuel the fissures of our ravaged political landscape if he is elected.

Even more frightening than John McCain in power is Sarah Palin, and the only thing more frightening than Sarah Palin herself is the extraordinarily real possibility that she will become President if McCain drops dead of a heart attack as I expect.

Sarah Palin is the essence of everything I hate in this world. She is the worst example of a feminist since Mattel unveiled the Barbi doll in the 1950s. Her religious brain damage is only rivaled by her sickening "nice" front, which is only rivaled by her sheer ignorance of literally everything in the world.

I have never, in my admittedly short career as a genuinely politically aware and intelligent being, witnessed someone as clueless and inexperienced and generally angering. I say this despite living through 8 years of George W. Bush. Why doesn´t he bother me as much? Mainly because we all KNOW that he always had Dick Cheney and Karl Rove´s hands up his ass, guiding his every move, calculating every serpentine syllable, crooked smile, and every psychotic, maddening thought. He was too dumb to speak for himself, yet vaguely smart enough to recognize this aphasia in his frontal lobe. Sarah Palin is not so smart. On top of that, the Republican party has been so taken over by these Reaganites on Crack that they seem to be directly in line with her outstanding level of retardation. Her level of ignorance of foreign policy and close-minded living is a gross affront to the globalised, localised world that is our reality. As far as I have seen and read in fantastically mindblowing interviews, there is no world outside of Alaska. I fear that the cold has gotten to her head, and issues as complex as alternative energy and global warming have become as simple as to sum it up as "Obama´s going to bankrupt all coal plants." It is far more complex than that; you know it, I know it and I hope to Rahoul Duke the rest of the American People know it.

She has managed to avoid and over simplify every issue that actually means something, and it outrages me that she has been able to get away with it by simply smiling and charming the somafied idiots of the world with her grating Minnesota Nice voice, to make a reference to Frances McDormand, who, in all honesty, I feel is smarter and more likely to make good decisions for the country.

I hope to whatever god is out there that the 10% of my gut instinct is wrong, in thinking that institutionalized, under the surface racism will overshadow the exhaustion, hilarity, and utter outrage that has been caused by the Bush administration. I want, more than anything in the world, that the people of These United States will say that it IS time for a black president, and will actually shed off the final shell of structural bigotry that still continues to dominate the country. I fear, unfortunately, that despite polls saying that people will vote for a black president, they only want to appear non-racist. This fear comprises only 10percent of my gut instincts, but it is such a fear that I have decided that such a turn of events will lead to one of two things.

Option 1 is that I remain here in Guatemala until the wolves have proceeded to devour the final survivors of those that fought the good fight for free speech, freedom from psychochristian oppression, overt institutionalized racism and setting the women´s movement back about 75 years. Not to mention the economic toilet that a McCain/Palin administration will ultimately flush us down.

Option 2 is I come back to the US immediately before inauguration day and take part in the final days of the human race, or the final days of a public that submits to this sort of psychostupidity.

Whoever wins decides once and for all in my mind what kind of god exists- is this god kind and loving, or at least benevolent to the human race, or is this god vengeful and wrathful as the Christian Right tells us, and that a totalitarian world theocracy is coming, and will only end with the Rapture?

I pray for the former. The religious Book of Revelations implications of this election demand nothing less than quaking, fearful prayer that the Forces of Evil mobilized by Falwell, Reagan, Gingrich and Limbaugh will be defeated by sanity and humanity. I pray that the good people of the US will rise up and beat back the bestial bloodsuckers we have seen ravage the world the past 8 years and prevent them for at the very least another 4.

For the love of all things good in this world, please let intelligence and reason beat back dimentia, hate, fundamentalism, ignorance, and superficiality, or we must all move to Canada....or actually make our Founding Fathers proud and do what they felt was right....

So, a week´s gone by

So far, things are going pretty well. I started volunteering today with a women´s weaving collective called Trama, which was started after the civil war, when countless indigenous women were left alone (thanks to the systematic violence of the government troops) and impoverished because of the violence. WHat they did in response was form a weaving collective and school as a means of economic and social support. We´ll be seeing what things they need me to do.

In addition, this Saturday I will start tutoring a local with his English. He´s fluent, he just needs help with vocabulary and whathaveyou. Sounds fun.

Currently we´re trying out a local apartment with one American roommate, and the rest are all Guatemalan. That swhould hopefully mean some degree of authenticity. So far it´s alright, everyone seems nice for the most part, and they tend to be quite social, it appears. There are a few problems, however. Everyone seems to be allergic to washing their dishes, and the sink is therfore rendered absolutely disgusting. On top of that, on occasion the water goes out, and, as has been the case in the rest of Xela, we lose power pretty much every day for some time. Apparently the government of Xela is trying to fix shit and that means some parts of the city lose power at different parts of the day. Who knows what they´re up to...

Weird things have happened, mainly related to drama at the hostel where we were staying until recently. Mostly resulting in two people who are mentally unstable to begin with going completely batshit. The first guy, César, I didn´t know very well, so I will refer you to latinamericanrompings.blogspot.com to get the lowdown about this dude.

The second incident involved a whacked out old American thinking someone stole some of his food and WIGGING THE FUCK OUT at the poor little Mayan women who work at the hostel. IN response, our good friend Pablo tried to be like, "you don´t talk to them this way." So cantankerous bastard tries to start some shit with Pablo, and Pablo´s all, you´re old man, I´m not going to start with you...

I met the old guy at Vrisa books and he seemed semireasonable, but when you´re in a bookstore talking about Hunter S. Thompson and Kerouac with a bunch of old Gonzo beatniks, we´re on the same page because we´re only talking about one thing.

Old Bastard gets back to the hostel and starts screaming for Pablo, challenging him to a fight. All the guys in the hostel did what we could to prevent it, and nothing happened. They called the owner, and the curmudgeonly gringo was kicked out...but came back later that night and moved out the next morning. Good riddance....

Also, WEIRDEST thing in the world happened to me when I was looking for this place that apparently hires gringos. I walk into a tienda and asked where it was. The lady (wrongly) said that the restaurant didn´t exist. I thanked them, we did the whole "Adios/chau" thing, and there was this large Guatemalan fellow in the tienda, looked kind of like he could have been a professional wrestler, really excitedly says "chau," proceds to do the handshake/high five combo, then the handshake/highfive combo into the one armed hug, then to the full-on bear-hug that ended in being shaken up and down, before being officially welcomed to Guatemala.

It took me a few minutes to recover from that one, and after inspection, realized that he was really just a genuinely friendly guy really excited to welcome a gringo to his country. I was kind of happy.

We also said goodbye to Pablo, mainly by making a big dinner (complete with liquor filled pineapples) and a T-shirt we all signed that said "I Love Gringos". So that was fun.

As I said further up, we recently moved into an apartment. It´s alright. THey´re fun dudes and came to the Nuevos Horizontes benefit Halloween party.

Ah, yes, the Halloween party. I was sad not to be back in the states for Halloween because apparently both the Catholics AND the Evangelicals here had officially denounced the holiday. We need a pagan revival here, this religious psychosis (majority Evangelical) has got to go.

But, Halloween was fun. Nuevos Horizontes, the first battered women´s shelter in Guatemala, held a benefit party. Me and Michelle went dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, so that was lots of fun. Lots of cool costumes, met some really cool people there. Including a fantastic Fidel Castro, and an amazing Penguin, and my friend Chris as the most amazing Michael Phelps you can imagine. Also, when you put fresh fruit in a spiked fruit punch, it soaks up all the alcohol...

Anyway, we move on to Día de los Muertos. Me and Michelle, yesterday morning, went to the graveyard in Xela to dig the festivities.

First of all, there´s one graveyard for the whole bloody city. It´s HUGE, and the way they bury their dead puts ours to shame. I saw minipyramids, people, and miniature cathedrals!!!!

So, we walked around, and getting through the street to the cemetary was made difficult by the transport of every market vendor and beggar in the city to this one artery to the cemetary. Once in, however, we were rewarded by a great big field with lots of room to roam around...

And watch people sweep old stuff off of the graves (the tombs are kind of above ground), putting new stuff on to make it pretty, and just generally hanging out and keeping the graves nice-looking. Some people were actually eating at the graves, I guess, to be with family.

Another interesting part of the festivities was the presence of lots of children running around flying kites. Apparently it´s all part of the tradition. Meanwhile, on our way back to the town center, amidst nearly getting knocked over by women shorter than Michelle with baskets on their heads, we ran into our friend Julia, from the hostel. She´s a Swiss girl, who is working at a clinic, and apparently the family of people she works with gave her a full-on Mayan woman outfit, so she was walking around dressed up as a genuine Mayan Woman!!!! This tall, blonde Anglo-European person, dressed as a MAYAN! It was almost hilarious!

Then, later yesterday, my life got even weirder, as someone I recognized from AU but hadn´t met until yesterday, walked in and sat down. I´d seen him pretty consistently since my freshman year, and the introduction was appropriately awkward. Oh well, there´s a new contact in Xela that can become advantageous.

As for the rest of yesterday and today, there´s not too much that can be said. I´ve been trying to change damaged 100 Quetzal bills after I put them in my shoe to prevent theft...I´ve already changed 2, with two to go. In addition to that, I´ve been reading from Hunter S. Thompson´s The Great Shark Hunt whenever I can, which means whenver the city doesn´t kill the power, which is a collection of lots of published and unpublished pieces from the journalistic aspect of his career. I find it fantastically entertaining and interesting. It´s also long, which is good.

Anyway, that´s it for now. My Habitat for Humanity position should be starting soon, and hopefully I´ll actually teach English next week instead of getting left out of the loop by the school´s brainless, dickless director. He´s kind of a schmuck, but if he´s going to pay me, I´m okay with it. We´ll see.

Xela and the worst day of travel of all time

Well, the good news is that I made it to Xela in one piece (barely) on the scariest bus ride of my life. The bad news is that I, in my infinate supply of wonderful luck, got robbed before the bus even left Guatemala City (which is a toilet that should be burned to the ground). These bastards pulled a fantastic scam on me, playing on my understanding that Guatemalan police are ridiculous and poke through everything because they´re corrupt bastards. Long story short, the robbers (who weren´t cops, or posing as cops, but rather as ticket takers for the bus) told me that because we had to go through a police checkpoint, all of our stuff had to be stored on the inside racks. I saw no one else holding their bags, so I fell for it. Meanwhile, they had one guy handing out shit to sell or whatever as one distraction, and a guy in front of me who spoke English pretending to be real nice to me so we were talking and evidently while this was happening they rooted through my bag and took my knife, camera, and iPod. My 2nd camera and my iPod, GONE. Son of a bitch. I realized this, however, as I was about to take my malaria pill (after we passed an actual police checkpoint but they didn´t do SHIT), then, after a brief freakout, my attention was diverted by the fact that the bus I was on (the stereotypical chicken bus with NO safety features) was speeding up a mountain and overtaking EVERY vehicle on the highway and taking curves like a Formula 1 racer...holy SHIT it was terrifying.

The day began quite interesting as well. I barely caught the 6am bus out of Esquipulas, and then we were held up for about 20 minutes while the ticket taker got into a fight with some guy outside, and since he was smaller, he was struggling. He got in a few good head kicks, but unfortunately the other guy had a death grip on this poor bastard´s nuts. But, after a while, nobody got seriously hurt, and we were on our way. We got to Guate more or less when I figured, and then I took a cab to the bus station to Xela, and it was then that I got screwed. Fortunately, I got to Xela in one piece, nothing else was lost, and I´m hoping to get some shit together here. There´s a Habitat for Humanity opportunity that looks really cool- I get to travel around Guatemala and interview locals about what they want in their new habitats. They pay for my travel and give me a stipend for food and lodging when I travel, which is cool, so we´ll see what happens there. Other options include any one of a million volunteer opportunities and teaching English. We´ll see what happens.

It is nice to be back here, and the hostel is sort of a family- last night we had a communal dinner with 10 people and that´s normal at this hostel, so I¨m looking forward to some good times.

That´s it for now.

Hi Everybody

Hey everyone!

I am now in Esquipulas, Guatemala, just inside the border. I got here today after an arduous bus trip that started at 6:30 this morning in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Try pronouncing that one!

Anyway, the past few days, nothing has really happened that´s much to speak of. for one, I left Nicaragua Monday morning after a barbecue with Kevin and Marita, my Austrian friends in Leon. I decided not to go to Estelí, because, despite the fact that it sounds somewhat cool to visit, it´s 4 hours on apparently the worst road of your life, and I already lost two days in rainy San Juan Del Sur.

The traveling has been fun, I finally made it to the FSLN (Sandinista!) museum in Leon, took in a view of the whole city from the roof, have been practicing Spanish, helped Kevin and Marita and their friends make a SHIT TON of gnocchi, made the best grilled veggies ever, spent 2 whole days busing, made a travel buddy in Honduras yesterday, checked in with Kittie Fatass in Granada, and...that´s about it. I should be arriving in Xela tomorrow at around dinner time, hopefully all will go well on the way there.

The past two bus rides have been absolutely hilarious. I haven´t even been on Chicken Buses, and they have been cramming people in as if it were one. Last night I had the misfortune of being on the last bus of the day to Tegucigalpa, and they were actually cramming people underneath in the luggage hold!! I´d never seen anything like it. Today I spent the San Pedro-Santa Rosa leg of the trip standing up. No big deal though, Ryan (travel buddy from Lake Tahoe, CA) is a cool guy and has a lot to talk about a lot of things. He got off at Santa Rosa de Copan, and maybe will show up in Xela before he heads home.

Anyway, I think that´s all there is right now. I´m looking forward to Xela, and looking forward to any work that I´ll be doing there...stay tuned!

Leon

Hey everyone!

I´m back in Leon, Nicaragua. For those that don´t remember, Leon was my favorite city in one of my favorite countries, and considering what I´ve seen so far, that´s pretty big. I met up with Kittie Fat Ass in Nicaragua and finally took a picture of her and her overgrown furry self. Also, today, I met up with Kevin and Marita, and I´m looking forward to hanging out with them in the next few days. I also hope to see some of Leon that I didn´t the last time, and I'll hopefully get some pictures in.


I feel as if I´m a little behind schedule with my original goal of making it to Quetzaltenango by the 20th, but if I can get there even by the 22nd, I´ll be happy. Who knows. The absence of interesting things in Western Honduras might bring me to Xela more or less on time.

Stay tuned!

Nicaragua!

Hey everyone,

I´m currently in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. I made it here the other night, when my original plan failed thanks to the bus company in Costa Rica. First of all, the bus didn´t leave until about 40 minutes after it was supposed to. Second of all, we were held up for about 45 minutes (and even went BACKWARDS!) after the driver broke the windshield after driving into a tree branch...

We got to the border crossing by 5:30, and by this time there were no more buses anywhere. Fortunately, I had met a couple from Seattle, and they were heading to San Juan del Sur. I figured it would be safer to tag along with them, and it worked out cheaper after we split a cab. We were also traveling with a pair from Norway.

We got to the hostel, went to dinner, and then hung out for a while.

My original plan was to leave straight for Granada yesterday, but I figured that, since I haven´t been to the Pacific coast of anywhere during my travels, I would stay for the day. Unfortunately, much of the day it rained like hell, so we basically just spent the day hanging out, and when it wasn´t raining, walking around. It´s a really cool looking place. Very touristy, but this is one of those places where it´s touristy for a reason. It´s been pretty fun. The SEattle couple is very nice, and I´ve had a bunch of chances to practice my Spanish helping them out, since they don´t speak any.

Today I plan on getting some souvenirs and then heading further north. I got in contact with the Austrian couple from Leon, so I´m looking forward to meeting up with them again later this week.

Costa Rica

Hey Yonki Fans out there,

I just want to let you all know that I arrived in San Jose today, safely and a little bit wet. Next stop is Nicaragua!

Pictures!

Hey everyone,

I finally got around to posting the pictures that our good buddy Dan took for us from Mindo and Colombia. Eventually I´ll post the ones from the salt cathedral.

www.photobucket.com/ayonki

ENJOY!

Bogota!

I´m in a small village right now called Zapiquirá (I think, I´ll get back to y´all on that one) where the main attraction is a salt cathedral. Yes, a salt cathedral. What they did was dig a whole cathedral into the mountain that was and still is the source of quite the salt mine. It sounds odd, but once the pictures come up (FROM MY NEW CAMERA!!!), you´ll see why it´s so friggin´cool.

So, Bogotá is a huge city, the biggest I´ve been in since we´ve been traveling. 7.5 million people, it´s basically the same size as New York City. And so much of it makes me think I´m actually in New York. First of all, there´s a pizza place that serves pizza (vegetarian friendly, for once) by the slice, and it´s cheap as hell. Second of all, something about the streets, especially the other day when we were looking around for stores. Also, there´s a wicked public transit system that works quite well (though not an underground subway). there´s also a cool bar that makes it´s own (GOOD!!) beer. Yeah, i know, I haven´t had good beer since Guatemala.

Speaking of Guatemala, it´s almost time for me to go back. And for Michelle, it is time for her to go back to Guatemala. I leave Colombia on Tuesday, and will be traveling up to Guatemala by buses and staying in hostels like I did on the way down. This will be an experiment in Yonki Travels on his Own. It may sound scary to many of you, but honestly, since I´ve done it the other way, it shouldn´t be too much of an issue. Besides, there is always the possibility of travel buddies you meet on the road.

Next trip- OSTRICH FARMMMMM!!!!