Don't Call It A Comeback: 8 Quick Notes On My Return To The Blogosphere

Some of you may have noticed that it has been awhile since the last time I posted anything.  Three months, to be exact.  The holidays are always a hectic time in Ruttville, as we add both my brother's and my birthdays into the mix of Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Years.   This year, I also went through a very rough patch in my constant battle with my demons (more about that in a moment), and continue to work hard at rebuilding my career and digging out of the hole that nearly five years of under/unemployment put me in.  Let's just say I didn't feel much like writing.

Now that we're on the 2014 side of the ledger, though, things are looking up! There are positives to celebrate and stories to share, plus so much good music, writing, and other assorted whatnot to tell you about.  So, here I am, posting again.  A good thing, I think.

Three months is a fair span of time, and things happened while I was away.  Here are some quick notes about my world since we last spoke:

1. I went back into therapy.
As I noted above, my demons really ganged up on me as 2013 drew to a close. The panic attacks started coming fast and furious, and a few friends and family members got to experience a full-out Bryan breakdown or two - never an enjoyable thing, for me or for anyone around me.  Decided to stop trying to fight alone and ask for help.  Actually found the same therapist I worked with over a decade ago, the one who originally diagnosed my OCD and Social Anxiety.  Getting back into regular sessions with Dr. Atkins has proven to be the right move.  She has already helped me so much, and I plan to keep working with her for the immediate future, anyway.

2. I began practicing meditation.
Ties in with my return to therapy.  Dr. Atkins also happens to run a two-part meditation workshop, which she recommended to me and I decided to go.  I am so glad I did.  I am learning how to be calmer, more mindful, and more accepting of the world around me.  I wasn't seeking any religious or spiritual guidance, and the workshop was not presented as such; rather she focused on the health and relaxation benefits of meditation.  I recommend it highly.


3. I grew a beard.  Then I shaved it off.
I'd never worn a beard before.  Well, OK, a goatee at one point for a short while, but it was the 1990s and I think it was required that everyone wear a goatee at one point.  Anyway, decided to take part in No Shave November.  Was kind of surprised to see how much grey came in with those whiskers.  I mean, I've been going bald for some time now, but never grey!  I kind of liked the look of the beard, and then I didn't.  Then it itched like all get out, and after a few more days it didn't. I liked it again at that point, and then later on I didn't like it.  I figured if I'm waffling that much, it's not meant to be kept.  I suppose I'll never be a mountain man.

4. This blog passed the five-year mark.
Yep. Half a decade.  December 13th was the anniversary, which passed unnoticed this year.  I'm proud this li'l ol' corner of the Internets is still around - five years is an eon in cyber years, you know.  With luck, it'll be here another five...

5. Briefly, I considered shutting the blog down altogether.
I wondered if, after five years, I wasn't writing because I had no more to say.  Had the blog run its course? Was it time to just say thank you and goodbye, everyone?  I came damn close to archiving everything and pulling the plug, but at the last minute decided to wait and see if the muse came back.  Glad I did!

6. Amadeus' nose changed colors.
I've written before about how my one cat, Edison, has had his coat change color as he has grown, from a snowy white Siamese kitten powder puff to a dark brown and golden tiger-stripe.  Not to be outdone, his brother has had his nose change color.  No, really.  Took the cats to the vet for their annual rabies and distemper vaccinations.  The distemper vaccine was given nasally, with an eyedropper.  Edison tolerated it well, but Amadeus developed a very severe reaction to it.  He would sneeze so hard his whole body convulsed, and he had rubbed his nose so raw it was bright red.  After he got better and his nose healed, it had gone from pink to black.  The vet says it's hyperpigmentation, much like when we get freckles or darker scars.  It may go back to pink over time, or it may not.  Either way, Amadeus is fine.  Oh, and he's not getting the nasal vaccine ever again.

7. I celebrated another lap around the sun.
47 as of January 6th.  How did I get so old?  Good celebrations with family and friends, and even had "Happy Birthday" sung to me by the CEO, President and Vice President of the company I work for.  So it was a pretty good birthday, I must say. (And I am still promised a sushi dinner or two!)

8. I'M BACK, BABY!
In the immortal words of George Costanza...

On Yet Another Cultural Snubbing Of The Adverb

I generally do not pay attention to television commercials.  I seldom watch anything when it is actually aired anyway - I live the DVR lifestyle, recording and watching programs when I want to and usually fast-forwarding through the commercials. On the occasions when I do have to sit through the ads, I am certainly not focused on them.  That is, until the other night when a commercial's tag line forced my attention, the way fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard might force your attention.  Only this was even more unpleasant to my ears.

Capital Blue Cross has a new ad campaign, and the slogan the are using is an example of one of my biggest grammatical pet peeves.  It is the type of lax grammar that underscores my belief that our culture is hurtling ever more quickly toward the world that Mike Judge envisioned in the movie Idiocracy; a world where "the English language [has] deteriorated into a hybrid of hillbilly, valley girl, inner city slang, and various grunts."

Capital Blue Cross' new slogan is: "Live Fearless."

"LY!" I shouted at my television, which had already moved on to the next brain-numbing commercial. "Live fearlessLY! Do you people not know what a freaking adverb is?!?"

This isn't the first time a company has completely ignored the basic grammatical construction of an adverb. Back in the '90s I was driven batty by Apple Computers and their "Think Different" campaign.  "Think different?" I'd say to anyone who would listen. "Apparently someone on Apple's advertising team didn't proofread careful!"  I wish more people would have gotten the joke than did, but that too is a comment on our language dying: if it gets said on TV, it must be right.

Yes, I know, English is notoriously one of the most difficult languages to master. It is infamous for setting up rules of grammar and then offering a never-ending string of bizarre exceptions to those rules.  Adverbs, though, are pretty simple. 99% of the time, they're going to end in -ly.

He didn't run quick; he ran quickLY. She didn't yell angry; she yelled angriLY.  You shouldn't live fearless; you should live fearlessLY.  Simple, no?

I guess I had an advantage, being of grade school age in the 1970s.  We had songs to teach us things.  We had Schoolhouse Rock and Sesame Street and The Electric Company all throwing musical lessons at us about everything.  I still can recite the entire Preamble to the Constitution after all these years by hearing the Schoolhouse Rock song in my head.  We learned to count, we learned how bills become law, and we sure learned grammar!  Anyone my age remembers "Conjunction Junction" or that it's "quite interesting, a noun's a person, place or thing." 

We had two great lessons on adverbs, both of which I still hear in my head today, and both of which strongly underscored the -ly suffix.  Schoolhouse Rock offered us "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly (Get Your Adverbs Here)," which is quite fondly remembered by my circle of friends, but to me the one that really nails it was offered up by The Electric Company, who enlisted the incomparable Tom Lehrer to write the brilliant "L-Y." Anyone who grew up with this one has no excuse for improper adverb usage (and it's quite a snappy little tune, too!):

I don't suppose the folks at Capital Blue Cross will be making any changes in their advertising campaign based on my objections.  Still, I needed to rant, lest my head explode.  I've said my piece and will say no more, except to ask that please, anyone out there who is in charge of coming up with the next big slogan for the next national ad campaign for the next big brand, please do one thing:

Proofread careful!

Back to Baltimore

Man, I did not realize how badly I needed a night like last night.

It's been a slow process, rebuilding my world over the past year or so both emotionally and financially, and I still have more hills to climb before I'm truly at ease again in either aspect of my life. Hey, it took a nearly five-year tumble to create the rubble I'm climbing out of, it's going to take some time to rebuild as well.

One of the things that has been sorely missing in my world is live music. Hadn't gone to stand in front of a band since seeing Freezepop and Lifestyle in Philly over a year ago, and I missed the live band experience. It's as if a part of my soul wasn't being properly nourished. I had the chance to go see one of my favorites, One-Eyed Doll, in Allentown a couple weeks back, but those plans fell through at the last minute. When I saw that Peelander-Z was going to be at The Ottobar in Baltimore, I knew I had to be there! Still, I almost backed out at the last minute, not sure if I could (or should) afford the evening. Only $15 to get in, sure, but figure grabbing dinner somewhere and having a few beers at the show, possibly a purchase from the merch table, and it starts to add up when you're on a tight budget. Bless my brother, he basically said "don't worry about it, we're going!"

Four bands played last night; two of them I was very psyched to see again: Peelander-Z, of course, I had been blown away by when I saw them in Washington DC in early 2012 with One-Eyed Doll - a show which ranks among the flat-out best top-to-bottom live shows I've ever seen (neither are bands you just stand in front of - both are big on audience interaction and participation). Also, a local Baltimore band, Plurals, was on the lineup. I have raved about them since seeing them open for Shonen Knife the last time I was in Baltimore. So, I went in figuring even if the other two bands weren't any good, the night would still be fun.

I've mentioned before that there is a really cool scene happening in Baltimore lately. That was underscored again last night when the first band, Natural Velvet, took the stage. Fronted by bassist/vocalist Corynne Ostermann, they are a moody four-piece post-punk outfit relying heavily on reverb and echoey, distant vocals. They are also fan-frickin'-tastic. Ostermann gives off a coy Hope Sandoval vibe while guitarists Spike Arreaga and Kim Te scratch and slash, creating an ethereal yet agitated wall of sound. They've got an EP up on Bandcamp - check it out. As first bands go, they are one of the better I've seen.

Plurals were simply outstanding. I am a big fan of their modern take on an old-school new-wave sound, from Rachel Warren and Elena Fox providing the faux B-52's harmonies to Michael Bowen's Mark Mothersbaugh-meets-Frank Black lead vocals, combined with angular guitars and plinka-plinka keyboards, they've got the sound circa 1980 down without making it feel dated. Played some favorites including "Manic Depressor," "Mental Illness/Sooner Or Later," and "Clap Clap" (all of which can be found on their excellent Laced With Boniva EP, another Bandcamp offering which you must hear!), along with some I hadn't heard before: about mid-set, Warren took over lead vocals for "Look At The Nerds," seeming to channel both Nina Hagen and Klaus Nomi simultaneously. Simply put, Plurals are one of my current favorites - just wish there was more recorded stuff out there! (Hint, hint...)

I'm not exactly how best to word my reaction to Christopher Nobody & The Nothing. Don't get me wrong, they were quite good, but there was something just a bit off to my ears. My brother drew a comparison immediately to bands like Saccharine Trust which, while not exactly hitting the target, is pretty good jumping off point to describe them. Christopher Nobody shout/sings neurotic, hiccuppy songs while lurching about the stage, occasionally throwing himself bodily to the floor and occasionally stalking out into the crowd. The band was solid, loud and noisy - just the right accompaniment for songs like "I Love My Executioner" and "Sick Sick Sick." But I think somehow I liked the concept behind what they were doing better than the execution. Again, I liked their set and would gladly see them play again - maybe in a different context I'd be more in sync with their performance.

Speaking of not knowing how to describe a band - I've now seen the mighty Peelander-Z twice and am still not able to describe exactly what I've seen...or experienced. You do not simply stand and watch Peelander-Z. You can't. They refuse to let you. You become part of the show, whether you're one of those chosen to come up on stage to take over instruments for the band or don a foam rhino head and pound out a beat on a tom-tom or you're simply part of a crowd-wide limbo contest or circular conga line. Before the night was out, we had been part of a drum circle, watched a human bowling match, and pounded with sticks on pie tins. This old man tends to stay out of the mosh pits these days, content to stay on the edge and help rebound folks back into the fray, but when a Peelander-Z mosh pit breaks out, you can't not be a part of it - it engulfs everyone, and everyone is having a great time. They opened at breakneck speed with "So Many Mike," and tore through crowd faves like "Mad Tiger," "Taco Taco Taco," and "Ninja High School" before ending with the standard show-closing cover of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." If you've never experienced Peelander-Z before, do yourself a favor and go see them. They are much fun.

As I said, I really needed that night. It may be awhile again until the next live show I see, but if I only get to one this year, I do believe I chose the right one.

More pics from the show will be up on the That's What I Was Going To Say Facebook page later on tonight - please stop by and, if you haven't already, "like" the page so you don't miss out on any of the fun stuff coming up on the blog!

REPOST: That Day...

(originally posted 9/11/10)

It still feels more recent than 9 years ago, doesn't it? I suppose it always will. The following is a repost of a piece I originally wrote two years ago and posted here last year in slightly updated form. I repost it because I don't think I could capture my thoughts and feelings about 9/11/01 any better than I did then:

I can tell you where I was when I watched Space Shuttle Challenger explode. I can tell you what I was doing when the news broke that President Reagan had been shot. I will never forget anything about the morning I awoke to the news that John Lennon had been killed. I remember the fear associated with Three Mile Island. Yet all of these events, terrible as they were, even taken as a combined whole do not approach that horrific day eight years ago.

Do you remember how crystal clear the sky was that morning? It was the kind of day when you secretly began formulating some sort of excuse to cut out of work early so that you might drink in some of the beauty, knowing that there would not be many more of these days left before the weather turned too cold.

I went to work that morning as any other, and had just gotten my morning coffee and sat down to read my emails when a coworker began calling everyone in the building to say that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Wow - that's kind of weird...how bad of a pilot do you have to be to not see the Twin Towers, especially on day like this? The image in my mind was that of a small private plane, and I thought that the damage to that plane would have to have been much greater than any damage to the building. I made a mental note to check the news when I got home that evening, and went about my morning routine.

Then the second plane hit.

It's funny how your sense of scope can sometimes be so very far off. I remember immediately thinking "terrorists," but, having no knowledge of what had happened other than being told that two planes had hit the World Trade Center, in my mind's eye I still saw only two small private planes, piloted by crazed terrorist kamikazes. How could anyone have imagined the breadth and depth of this attack, much less that it wasn't over yet?

By now, some coworkers had foregone their morning assignments to start following what was happening online. We had no TV in the building, but a few more radios were rustled up. Do you recall the misinformation that began to flow as everyone tried to make sense of what was going on? When the third plane crashed into the Pentagon, it was not originally reported as such, at least not on the broadcast I was listening to. Instead, it was reported that a bomb of some sort had gone off "near" the Pentagon. Now, panic was starting to rush in. What the hell was happening?

I remember one coworker who reported for her scheduled shift later that morning in tears. She was the first person I saw reacting emotionally to the attack. The only words she could muster were, "They're gone. The towers are gone." Footage of the collapses was showing up online, and panic turned to outright fear. Word came that Lancaster was closing our courthouse and other public buildings. We, too, closed for the day.

The real impact of it all did not hit me until I got home and turned on the television. It's at about this point in the day where that "where were you when" clarity of memory fades into a cloud of rushing images, sounds, and emotions for me. Watching the footage of the planes as it was being found and thrown on air, raw and unedited. Seeing the pictures of people standing almost zombie-like, caked with dust and tears and blood and fear, unable even to move much less understand what had happened to them. Realizing how many innocent people had lost their lives without ever knowing what happened; and then realizing how many more lost theirs with full knowledge of what was happening. And further - realizing how many voluntarily ran towards the disaster as everyone else was running away, knowing that they were likely to lose their lives but doing so to help others. As clichéd as it sounds, there is no better definition of "hero".

Then, the panic and fear I felt was joined by an emotion I did not expect: anger. Outright, unfettered anger. HOW DARE THEY?!? I've never been what you would call a war-monger. I'm not of the "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out" school of thought. I abhor violence as a means to resolve dispute or exact revenge. But, as the saying goes, in this case I made an exception. I was full of patriotic anger, and to this day I make no apology for it. I wanted us to find out who did this and blow the fuckers off the face of the Earth - period!

I started to write this wanting only to share my "where were you" story and ask others for theirs. Amazingly, all these years later, writing this is causing many of those same emotions I felt that day to well up in me again, just as they had resurfaced three years after the attacks, when I had the opportunity to see Ground Zero with my own eyes. To be there, where those towers once stood, where the attacks began, where so many lost their lives for no reason and so many more for the most heroic of reasons, brought it all rushing back in a way that again surprised and, frankly, frightened me.

Despite that surprise and fear, I do pray that there never comes the day that thinking about the events of 9/11 doesn't cause so strong an emotional response in me. Although I was not physically there that day, I am forever grateful to those men and women who gave the greatest sacrifice in the effort to save people whom they had never met, and will forever think of those who did not survive. May this day be one where your thoughts and, if you offer them, prayers go to those folks, and not a moment of your time be given to those who committed the atrocity that made this day so painful.

I encourage you to share your thoughts, stories, etc., as well.

Let's Go Surfing!

Those of you who are regular readers and who assiduously study the Blog Roll over in the left-hand column (scroll down, you'll find it) will notice a few new additions.  You know what that means! Time once again to help you break up the boredom with another collection of some of the niftiest stuff I've found out there in my travels across the big, wide Internets.  When you're not spending your time here, take a moment and drop by these sites.  In no particular order...

This Charming Charlie
I have noted before that I generally don't get Tumblr blogs, but I do know a damn brilliant concept when I see it, and This Charming Charlie is about as brilliant a concept as I've seen on the Internets.  Like most examples of genius, it's a simple proposition: mash together frames from old Peanuts cartoons with lyrics from The Smiths.  So basic, and yet each new creation has me gnashing my teeth saying "I wish I'd thought of this first!"  Whether it's Lucy sitting on a front stoop musing "Now I know how Joan of Arc felt," Snoopy and Woodstock thinking "That joke isn't funny anymore," or Charlie himself quoting "How Soon Is Now," the concept works so well because the lyrics are so perfectly matched to the personalities we know these characters to have.  Well played.

Arcane Radio Trivia
For a broadcasting history buff like me, Arcane Radio Trivia is a treasure trove of neat stuff.  You'll meet a collection of the most fascinating characters to ever take to the airwaves; you'll hear scratchy audio of early broadcasts rescued from chipped and deteriorating transcription discs; you'll learn about the technological advances that made broadcasting possible in the first place.  Recent posts have included a review of the spectrum of sounds that actually make up what you and I hear as static, a report on the finding of a stash of operating logs from Franklin & Marshall College's WFNM dating from 1976, and rescued audio of the final outs of  the second game of the 1947 World Series.  Bookmark this one!

Paracinema
"Genre Films," the flip side of the Art Film coin, are celebrated in both the blogosphere and the print world thanks to the utterly wonderful Paracinema.  The online presence both supplements the far-too-sporadically published magazine of the same name, and stands independently of it; together they gather some of the best independent writing critically assessing everything from Spaghetti Westerns to Sexploitation flicks to direct-to-video films of all stripes, and much more celluloid insanity.  If you're looking for an explanation as to why Phoebe Cates' pool scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High became such an iconic '80s moment or a history of how the non-existent Alan Smithee came to direct so many films, the folks at Paracinema are waiting for you to stop by. And at $7 an issue delivered, it's well worth supporting.

Or, As We Used To Call It: Talking To Yourself
So, a good friend I've known since eighth grade started up a blog a short while back.  Since he doesn't use his name on the blog, I won't give it away here.  I will just say you are missing out some excellent commentary on cultural current events and truly intriguing essays on assorted films (the Film Friday posts are not to be missed!) if you are not treading this one.  No frills here - no flashy images or fancy backgrounds, just damn good writing.

*stills
*stills is a fascinating commentary on our cultural history from the early-to-mid 20th century, done without words.  For many years, silent 8mm home movies were the way families documented the important events in their lives - more often than not, the annual family vacations.  Emma Hurst worked as a research intern under Rick Prelinger, scouring through thousands upon thousands of home movies as part of the creation of his 2012 film No More Road Trips?, and in this Tumblr blog she collects some of her favorite still frames from those movies.  Simultaneously nostalgic and telling, you see what was important to our parents and grandparents without having to sit through hours of clacking home projectors and bad splice jobs. Remember kids, one day this is how future generations will look at your Instagram shots...

Everything Is Terrible
Quickly becoming one of my favorite sites to visit each day, Everything Is Terrible proclaims itself to be "this world's only psychedelic found footage comedy website that tours the Earth with face-melting live shows that include puppets, Jerry Maguires stacked to the heavens, and adoring cloaked followers begging EIT! for more! And we make DVDs!" Imagine taking the contents of your local video rental shop circa 1984, pouring it all into a blender and pressing "puree." All kinds of neat things surface here, remixed and video-collaged into handy little chunks of head-shaking, jaw-dropping goofiness. An instructional tape for how to play (not necessarily how to win, but how to play) Las Vegas slot machines, a recruiting tape to try to sell you on running your own 1-900 phone line (remember those?), and Goldie Hawn and the Harlem Globetrotters singing "Short People" are just some examples of what you're in for here.  Mind-numbing fun!

Weird Universe
In a similar vein, Weird Universe is a repository for, well, damn weird stuff of all types.  Where Everything Is Terrible has a specific niche, Weird Universe casts as wide a net as possible, finding strange old advertising, unusual news items, rare clips from the early days of television, and more.  I have literally found myself spending hours digging through the site's archives. So much weirdness = so much good stuff.

Zombie Dead Blog
Blogging can be a chore.  Many, many folks start out with great intentions of creating their own little corner of the Internet where they can hold court on any number of topics.  Many, many folks find that they burn out after a short while.  A precious few continually struggle onward, sometimes going on brief hiatuses here and there, but never giving up.  And then there are those who never quite got out of the gate.  It is those bloggers whose candle burned out moments after coming up with a great blog name, or those whose debut post turned out also to be their swan song, who are celebrated at Zombie Dead Blog.  Think of it as a virtual tour of the abandoned houses and forgotten ghost towns of the blogosphere, or a brief glimpse of what could have been if so many muses hadn't gone silent.  Fascinating.

The History Of Phone Phreaking Blog
Many people think the rise of the Hacker is a relatively recent phenomenon, tied to the 21st century technology surge, computer viruses and online trolling.  In fact, hacking has been around since long before the Internets arrived in our homes, and many of today's hackers - from the amateur just curious to try to figure out how all this tech stuff works to the seasoned pro who can seem to find a way into any system and cause all sorts of havoc - can trace their lineage back to characters like Joe Engressia, the mysterious Captain Crunch, and a couple of fellas named Wozniak and Jobs who, in the 1960s and 1970s were exploring the labrynthian telephone systems of the world with a whistle and a blue box. Go, read, learn.

I'll Take Ten!
What's that? You say you need a cat hammock, a roll of glow-in-the-dark toilet paper, and some bacon lollipops, but you just don't know where to go to get them? You want to fry an egg in the shape of a handgun and open your mail with miniature samurai sword, but your stumped as to how to make that happen? Can't make it through another day without french fry lip balm and caffeinated soap?  All this and more can be yours at I'll Take Ten!  Me, I'm saving up for the $350K life-size moving triceratops...

OK, so there's my current list of neat items that I think are worth sharing with you.  If you've missed any of the previous times I've recommended blogs, books, podcasts, etc., click on the "Recommended" link at the top of the page.  Also, please check out the sites listed on my blogroll on the left-hand side of the page (keep scrolling, you'll find it).  I share these items with you because I think they are worth your time and attention - I'm not receiving any compensation from any of these folks for pointing you towards them.  Heck, most of them have no freaking clue who I am!  Still, if you find something you like, let me know in the comments below.  Similarly, if you have some recommendations to add, feel free to list them in the comments, or contact me through the blog's Facebook Page to talk about a guest post.  Let me hear from you!

Six Word Sunday

It's time to make some changes!

Reporting Live From The Eye Of The Storm

It's been awhile since I have had the need to blog about my battles with my internal demons, but here I sit on a Sunday evening finding myself in the midst of a storm inside my brain that rolled in so fast I did not have time to prepare.  Usually I can see these clouds forming and, while I can't always thwart the incoming attack, at least I am usually able to take the appropriate steps to shelter myself (and those around me) from the worst of the maelstrom.

Perhaps it's wrong to say I didn't see this one coming; a more correct assessment would be to say what I thought was a thunderstorm turned out to be hurricane.  It's been a long, tough, painful week at work.  What folks who do not suffer from the sort of anxieties and depressions many of us battle do not understand is that we also tend to guilt-sponges.  For as long as I can remember, whenever I sensed that people around me were upset or angry, my immediate assumption has always been that I must have done something wrong; that somehow this disturbance in the peace is my fault.  Now, sensible people would see that, if something were indeed their fault, they would be directly approached about it; if no one is telling them they are at fault, sensible folk deduce that they must not be at fault and move on with their lives.  Not so with me.  No, in my warped world, the very fact that I'm not being directly confronted about something only serves to make it clear that I am indeed the problem.  That Social Anxiety Demon who keeps me believing that I am forever at risk of being set up for embarrassment, humiliation, or ridicule, whispers in my ear that everyone must be talking about me behind my back.  Paranoid? Damn right you should be paranoid! They're out to get you! I hate that demon with every ounce of my soul.  That demon holds me back more than any other I battle.

That demon had me convinced this week that I was the cause of the issues that made it a difficult week, but the week seemed to end on a reasonably high enough note.  I was feeling better about things and headed into the weekend ready to begin anew.  Saturday went by uneventfully, as did this morning, but by mid-afternoon, my internal world was in shambles.

I can't tell you when it happened or even how it began.  I realized I was sitting on my sofa in the living room staring blankly out the window with neither the TV nor the stereo on (a rarity indeed!) in silence, wanting to scream, to cry, to beat my fists against the wall.  My head had begun to hurt, as if my skull were being pressurized from inside and likely to blow apart at any moment.  My stomach lurched and I felt physically weak.  Since about 2:00 this afternoon, this is how I have felt.  The physical discomfort is not constant, other than the headache, but the want to just cry and scream in some sort of primal release is very strong.  As I write this I am simultaneously holding back tears yet wanting them to flow.

And the worst part of it all?  I can't tell you why.  I don't know why.  I don't think there is a "why."

Sure, there are things that are wrong in my world, as there are in anyone's.  Yes, I am fighting to regain the sense of security I once had before the economy collapsed and I found myself back to living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to stay above water, but so are many people.  I have a plan for those things, a strategy to rebuild, and it is working, slowly but surely.

Sure, there are the life choices I wish I would have made differently, such as never learning to drive or never marrying and starting my own family, but those situations are what they are, and they are certainly not new issues that just arose in my mind this weekend.

So what is it? Why is it? Why do I feel like this, and why does it happen so often?  Especially when it hadn't happened for such a long stretch?

To be clear, this is not a panic attack I am experiencing.  I know those very well, unfortunately.  No, this is a depression attack, and I am smack dab in the middle of it.  Funny, though, that the "rational" part of my brain realizes this much, and is allowing me to communicate it through writing.  I just want it to stop - I want this episode to stop, and want this all to stop happening ever again.  I want to be a normal, regular person.  I just wish I were normal.

I will get through this. I always do.  Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger,  right?

Enough rambling.

Six Word Sunday

Rain will be welcome this afternoon!

New Wave for the New Week #165

The classic era of New Wave, circa 1978 - 1981, left behind several eccentric curios - bizarre one-shot bands that rode the wave briefly and wiped out hard, never to be heard from again, or eclectic experimenters who thrived on trying something beyond the traditional radio-friendly three and half minute pop song.  One band fit both descriptions during the New Wave heyday, and then managed to extend their lifespan longer than anyone thought probable by completely redefining themselves, at least finding dance club success if not chart fame and radio airplay.

When they began in 1978, the band Fàshiön (originally fully named Fàshiön Music on their first few singles) sounded like no one who had come before them - or after, for that matter.  They created a trippy, out-of-phase, almost dreamlike drone from shards of Reggae, Psychedelia, and Punk.  With frontman Luke Sky's bizarre vocal swoops tugging the melodies along, their early records at times sounded akin to Brian Eno-era Roxy Music played at the wrong speed on warped vinyl, but they remain fascinating artifacts of the era. "Steady Eddie Steady" and "Citinite" are the best examples of these early oddities, which caught the ear of Miles Copeland who quickly snapped them up for his fledgling I.R.S. Records label.

It was for I.R.S. that Fàshiön recorded their debut EP, containing my pick as their finest vinyl moment, the raucous "Sodium Pentathol Negative," which was also chosen as the band's representative cut on the essential I.R.S.'s Greatest Hits Vols. II & III compilation.  That it wasn't included on their first proper LP, 1979's Product Perfect, only goes to show how much solid material the band was pumping out. Indeed, only "Citinite" made the cut from the first several singles.  It's a truly wonderful album, highlighted by the sprawling, somewhat unsettling "Bike Boys."  Well worth seeking out.

Shortly thereafter, Sky left the band, and Fàshiön might very well have disappeared into the mists of time. Remaining band members John Mulligan (bass and synths), Dik Davis (drums), and Al James (guitar) had other ideas, however.  They brought in a new vocalist, and in 1982 suddenly bobbed back up to the surface with a new album, Fabrique (reissued many years later on CD as The Height of Fashion).  Old fans had little to celebrate, sadly, as this record bears little to no resemblance to anything done under the Fàshiön name before.  This was slick, polished New Romantic/pseudo-soul pop music, an obvious attempt to latch onto the "sound of the moment." While they scored some club hits ("You Only Left Your Picture," "Streetplayer"), they didn't find the commercial success they had hoped for.  A further reshuffling and another change in vocalists occurred, and they tried one more time. 1984's Twilight Of Idols took unapologetic aim at the dance floors, and while it is certainly danceable, it's unfortunately also generic and forgettable. 

For this week's NW4NW entry, we go back to Fàshiön's early material and remember good band they were at the start, even if they turned out to be a chameleonic curio by the end. Two audio-only clips are presented: first up, their excellent debut, "Steady Eddie Steady," and then the fantastic "Sodium Pentathol Negative." Enjoy!

Six Word Sunday

Warm, sunshiney catnap kind of day.