st. daniel

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 17:02:43 GMT

I've been updating dansolomon.com a bit lately. Right now I'm going through my 100 favorite albums in chunks of twenty. 80-61 went live last night. Look for more later this week.

[hi, again]

Mon, 11 May 2009 00:12:53 GMT

Dear Livejournal,

I won’t apologize for the fact that I’ve not updated this thing in six weeks (two months, for a post with any substance) because that implies that I’ve learned my lesson and won’t do it again, and, hell – who knows? I still read all y’all’s, though. I haven’t even set up filters so I’m just reading the cool people or anything.

Anyway.

I’m at the cafe for the theatre at which Kat is performing tonight, but I won’t be staying. I just had a bunch of emails to send, and we’ve not yet paid our Internet bill, and the free wifi I leech was down for most of the afternoon, so I needed to be somewhere. These were all emails to Chicago sports media types, many of whom have graciously agreed to participate in the piece I’m writing about the Bears for the Chicago Decider site. That’s finished now, and the mosquitos are going for my feet (I’m wearing flip-flops) so I won’t be here long at all. Dio – the dog, have I posted anything about my dog here? My damn Twitter account is nothing but the dog, it seems – is sitting on the deck, looking a little bored. I’ll take him to the park soon, but if the mosquitos are biting there, it’ll be a short trip there for both our sakes.

This is mostly it right now. I turned twenty-nine a few days ago, and my life involves more writing than it has in what feels like many years, but probably isn’t; spending as much time as possible with my dog, who’s named after the second singer in Black Sabbath; and not much else. Kat has had rehearsal for this play 5-7 nights a week since March, and I am still working at the law firm (three and a half days a week now). Tomorrow she starts a job in the cafe. I’m learning to fill my days up with as many projects as possible again, the way I tried to in London, the way I did when I first quit working retail and had too many hours on my hands, the way I did when I was twenty-one and living in San Antonio. I am twenty-nine years old, but I haven’t learned any better ways to deal with it when I have more time than I do friends. All that’s changed is the dog.

But it’s a good change, so what the hell? We play ball nearly every day, at the tennis courts down the block from the house. He’d been sick last week, but we spent $140 at the vet and that made him well, and he chases it incessantly when I throw it, especially if it’s after seven and cooled off again. He could go on and on, chasing the ball for an hour or more, if I wanted to throw it for that long. A lot of nights, I do.

Mostly I think all of this means I’m growing up again, in some ways. I’m filling my life in the same old ways, for the most part – with words again – and the new ways I’m using are totally different, and don’t require any words at all, except for the occasionally that’s a good boy.

Tonight, it’s not so bad.

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:09:08 GMT

Oh, incidentally, I've been updated dansolomon.com again a bit, if you're interested. S

help!

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 06:03:44 GMT

If you've ever worked at a big retailer on Black Friday, or if you're about to do so, and you're online right now, post a reply to this real quick, I need your help.

--d

For the Onion.

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 23:55:25 GMT

Austin people, please pick up a copy of The Onion this week for my first feature in the print edition- Faking Your Way Through The East Austin Studio Tour. It is only slightly mean-spirited and actually does promote talented people.

Internet people, I've got another bit up at decider.com, if you were wondering what went down at the Murs show on Tuesday.

Next week has another print edition feature and at least one more for decider.com, maybe two.

--d

[and now, the onion]

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 07:09:08 GMT

My first piece for decider.com, the new Austin-specific site from The Onion, is live. It's an interview with playwright Raul Garza about the premiere of his new play, Fantasmaville, as well as gentrification and raccoons.

elsewhere writing:

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 23:48:10 GMT

Week six of my football column, Down and Distance, is up at Troubl.org, and it goes something like this:

I spent Saturday at the Three Points Ranch, just outside of Marble Falls, TX, for a wedding ceremony. Evan, a college friend of my wife’s, was getting married to his boyfriend, Addison. They’re both Manhattanites, upwardly-mobile members of a social class I rarely spend time with. The ceremony was conducted in Texas, as that’s where both of their families hail from, but the actual wedding papers, by law, were to be filed in Massachusetts–except the day before the wedding, Connecticut ruled that gay folks could get married in their state, saving them a trip further north.

It made for some interesting table-talk at the reception, let me tell you. My wife and I sat with six well-dressed, well-coifed men, all couples, as well as an elderly uncle, a widower who wore his cowboy hat, boots, and belt buckle emblazoned with the words right to bear arms without a trace of irony.
So, where are you from? I asked the dude sitting next to me.
Memphis, he said. Originally, Memphis. I live in New York now.
Ooh, Tennessee? a young fella across the table said. Have you been to Dollywood?
The rest of the table looked at him with stark interest, and he nodded profusely. Only four times! He laughed.
Oh, god, I want to go so bad, the man seated next to my wife said, his voice thick with an Australian accent. I just love her.
I kicked my wife under the table, delighted to have a stereotype as innocuous as a group of gay men’s devotion to Dolly Parton validated, when the old cowboy spoke. That woman is a national treasure, he said with a thick West Texas drawl, something like Couch Taylor on Friday Night Lights mixed with a hint of Sam Elliott.
I turned to the guy who started this, the one from Tennessee, aware that the novelty of this conversation would quickly wear off. Enough about Dolly Parton, I implored, what do you think of the Titans this year?
(read the rest here)

When the column first went live this morning, that picture up there was attached to it, but it was quickly replaced with one a bit more tasteful- unless you're a Cowboys fan. This week's column is about gay marriage, the Tennessee Titans, and how awful week six was for everybody (except for my wife's friend, who got married).

There's also one at dansolomon.com on Austin's proposition 2 ballot initiative, which would cause the city to renege on its promise to grant tax subsidies to a giant outdoor mall from 2003.

And another quickie about tonight's debate, which will probably be past its freshness date in two or three hours.

--d

question.

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 03:52:16 GMT

Does anyone know why dansolomon.com would go from the first site you find when you google "dan solomon" to suddenly not showing up in the first twenty pages?

writing elsewhere:

Wed, 08 Oct 2008 15:06:13 GMT

[october mixtape] |Ben Folds, Jack White & Alicia Keys, Tricky, Murs, Chris Cornell & Timbaland, Darius Rucker, Conor Oberst, The Roots - 90's rock lives on!

[down and distance: week five] | football talk, but mostly about the debates. Five weeks of sports-and-politics without a hail mary reference!

[i have had a livejournal for six years...]

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 19:22:44 GMT

...and I have never done an entry in bullet format before. Let us begin!

Today's reasons I love Austin include:

Sometimes the really weird middle-aged dude in line at Half-Price Books while his elderly father helps him pick out boxes and boxes of old videotapes is actually Daniel Johnston.

Jimmie Dale Gilmore is apparently playing a free debate-watching party on Tuesday.

In other news:

The new used bookstore that just opened across the street from Half-Price on N Lamar is an even bigger scam than ol' HPB- which is also totally bullshit, but at least they're up-front about it. Frugal Media insists that their complex computer algorithm allows for them to pay heaps above Half-Price, using the power of science, but when I brought in my huge stack of relatively new books and graphic novels, they offered me $4 less than Half-Price Books. The owner is really frantic and awkward, clearly not prepared for the difference in job function between operating an online used bookstore (which is what the company had previously been) and a traditional one; his explanation to me was that, at Half-Price, your offer fluctuates based on who you talk to. Which is actually true, but having a computer that makes you a consistently crappy offer doesn't endear you to one's customers.

Oh, Cubs. Why do I watch sports, again? All they seem to do is break my fucking heart. Tonight is the third (and final?) game against the Dodgers, and then everyone sulks home, unable to even pretend that next year, or any other, will ever be any different. I shall watch it from a bar somewhere, wishing that I drank.

Why do I not have a group of people with whom to watch football on Sunday (or Monday) nights? I caught the Cowboys/Packers game two weeks ago at Dirty's with Donner, but I had more people to watch NFL games with in London than I do here right now. If you like sports, get at me. This must change.

I still like this job thing I got going on. I'm starting to find my bearings and get into the rhythm of it, which is cool. Working for a criminal defense law firm is sort of like starting to watch The Wire, but not for any of the obvious reasons. It's because, the first few times you do it, it doesn't make a lick of fucking sense. But it's not anybody's fault- not yours or theirs. Mostly it's just that these are very complex things and, in order for the proper complexity to be conveyed, you need to be immersed fully, rather than dipped in a toe at a time. I'm starting to get it now, and I really like that I was just given huge amounts of information up-front, with the expectation that I would be able to contextualize it over time. It beats being treated like a retard and being given busy work that you don't understand. In a few weeks, I expect that I'll be able to do this job properly, instead of just follow instructions blindly. It's a cool way to run a business, and I am glad to be a part of it.

And so much for that. Today is a day off, and I'm not used to distinguishing between days-off and days-on; for much of the past five years, there was just time. A day off only ever occured when I was on tour and a show got canceled or something, and it was the worst thing that could happen. This is a very different life than the ones I've lived in the past. But then, they usually are.

also.

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 18:54:35 GMT

I've had a hard time keeping up with dansolomon.com this month, what with the move and the lack of Internet access, but there's some new stuff there and that shall continue. Here are the highlights:

[kill the messenger] | some thoughts on Chris Rock's new special and the concept of misandry

[a real american hero] | a drunk Spin Doctors fan drives his truck onto his friend's roof, just for fun

[dirrty politics] | some thoughts on Mudslingers by Kerwin Swint, and why the Obama / McCain race doesn't even rank on the list of dirty campaigns

[september mixtape] | practically out-of-date now

And if you haven't been following Down and Distance, my weekly column at Troubl.org about NFL football and politics, give it a shot, why don't you? It's where I'm putting my best ideas right now.

[week one] | on team loyalty, John McCain, and Barack Obama

[week two] | on Tom Brady's knee, sexism in sports and politics, Sarah Palin, Jessica Simpson, and a lot of mistreated baby-mamas

[week three] | on the salary cap, Glenn Beck is a retard, and the current financial crisis

[week four] | on the defeated bailout, bread-and-circuses, and a bunch of predictions

[and the report]

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 18:46:27 GMT

Okay, the job's pretty neat. We'll see where it goes as I get more acclimated to the work I'll be doing and everything, but I kinda figure that yesterday was going to be the least interesting, since I'm untrained and the person who was meant to train me couldn't be there. I spent the afternoon learning the various courts and the offices within them, and got to observe a jail release, which was eye-opening and gross. Basically jail-release is when people who've been locked up for a few days, or a week, or whatever are sent to the courthouse, given the opportunity to plea to time-served and maybe probation (though circumstances vary) for whatever misdemeanor offense they committed, and then get sent home. It's very strange and procedural, and Travis County actually makes the inmates wear the striped pajamas, which seems designed specifically to humiliate.

It's hard to be seen as anything other than a criminal when you're dressed like the Hamburglar.

After that was all finished, I spent a couple hours learning more about the firm via the office Wiki, which was interesting and useful. I think I'm really going to like it, especially once I move further into the role I talked about with the partner regarding writing. Everyone there is really nice and very smart, and it's not the sort of firm a person gets involved with if they're not dedicated to it on an ideological level. I think it's going to work out just fine.

[motherfuck!]

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 01:32:55 GMT

In the past twenty-four hours, all five moving jobs I had booked for the next six days up and canceled on me. I guess I picked the right time to get a real job.

Meanwhile, a woman just came by to look at the entirely unnecessary high-end green chair/ottoman set we got from Kat's dad last month, but offered the dreaded i have to think about it which means that not making rent is suddenly a very real possibility. Would you believe that a month ago, I was sitting on £2,200? Moving internationally is fucking expensive.

I'm not out of hustles yet, and there's still a full week to go before this shit gets dire, but man, this is getting stressful.

[week two?]

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 23:55:39 GMT

I ate lunch today at Hoa Hoa, the Chinese restaurant in the Dobie building by the UT campus. I've been eating lunch there for six years, on and off, and the couple who own the place still recognize me when I come in even though I'll sometimes take a year or so off to live in Chicago or London.

daniel! (they always call me "Daniel", because they learned my name from my debit card) you haven't been here in a long time. sweet and sour chicken, steamed rice? and a fanta?

It's nice to be remembered.

I'm at Spiderhouse now, another place I've been coming to for six years. This place sure has changed, though. It used to be a coffee shop, now it's something of a mix of a coffee shop, a bar, and a restaurant. They do table service now, make their waiters wear goofy t-shirts. In terms of the atmosphere of the place, it feels very much like what the point of a British pub is to someone who had no idea what they were supposed to be like. And then attached a patio. The crowd's still students and hipsters. And me. Still me, too.

Everything else is weird, but it's just getting my footing that's tripping me up. It's really strange to no longer be waiting for something to happen. I've spent so much time waiting, and I feel like that's still what I'm doing. There's nothing left to wait for, though. Not really. There are only things to do. Man of action, and all of that.

I've got my Craigslist moving company back up, though it's slow right now. It's supposed to be- it's mid-September, and in Austin that's about as slow a season as you're liable to find. It'll pick up a lot at the end of the month, almost certainly, and I just need to be cautious and patient until then. Don't panic, it's just a matter of waiting it out. I only need about eighteen hours of work in the next two weeks to make rent. It's been a while since I thought in terms of making rent, too.

I very briefly took a job canvassing for the Larry Joe Doherty for Congress campaign, but boy, was I naive about that one. I live in TX-10, one of those fucked-up Texas Congressional districts that takes a sliver of Austin and stretches it into a district that's mostly Houston suburbs, and Larry Joe is the Democrat running for the seat. I've been wanting to get more involved first-hand in campaigns for a while now, and I thought this would be a good place to start. Going door-to-door, I figured, wouldn't be so bad. At least I wasn't asking for money.

All I got out of the experience was the chance to make people who were too polite to slam it in my face vaguely uncomfortable while they answered a couple of questions that they had no real opinion about. I can say for certain that I didn't change anyone's mind, or influence anyone's decision. Everybody I talked to was going to vote for whoever they were going to vote for, if they showed up at all. No one was interested, and a lot of people saw the fact that someone came to their house as a chance to vent the frustrations in their life at the dude at the door. It wasn't worth it. I wasn't helping anybody, and the money wasn't good enough for the shittiness of the work.

So much for that.

But I did apply for a position at the Camp Obama training session, because I still do want to participate in electoral politics right now. Camp Obama is a two-day training session for political organizers, after which participants are expected to phone bank in Austin for two weeks, then head off to New Mexico or Colorado or another swing state to use their new organizational skills mobilizing volunteers and doing get-out-the-vote work. You're expected to commit to working in the swing state for five weeks, from the end of September until election day.

It sounded kind of nice, even though I just got back. I've got lots of time and I spent so much time in London isolated that the idea of being a part of something for five weeks really appealed to me. But the rub is they don't pay you anything. They don't even cover your travel costs to the swing state. All they guarantee you is a couch to sleep on.

Which is really frustrating, because, you know, if I can't do this, then who can? I have no day job and no pressing responsibilities. I haven't got family obligations, school obligations, or work obligations, but I certainly can't afford to take on five weeks of not making a dime. It's not even five weeks of volunteering in Austin, where I could at least rustle up my cash by working extra long hours.

So I want to do the training session, because it sounds really interesting and valuable, but I think it'd probably be shitty of me to go with it. They're pretty clear about wanting volunteers who can commit to the full five weeks, and that's not me. A part of me just wants to go just to see who can commit to that. I'm guessing it'll be nothing but retirees, the independently wealthy, the homeless, and unemployed people whose lease on their furnished apartment runs out September 30th. I don't know how anyone else can sign up.

And I don't mean to be snarky, but I was really looking forward to it. I wasn't expecting it to pay well or anything. Just a community organizer's salary, maybe two hundred bucks a week for forty or fifty or sixty hours of work. Enough that I'll have a house to live in after President Obama gets elected.

But, hell, so much for that.

So this is week two. It's a little disorienting, but I ate at Hoa Hoa for lunch, and I might go to Terror Thursday at the Alamo Drafthouse tonight. If it gets hot again before fall officially starts, there'll be swimming to do. Nah, I ain't complaining. I'm just dizzy.

elsewhere.

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 20:11:30 GMT

dansolomon.com | [september mixtape]
This month's mixtape finally makes an appearance.

troubl.org | [down and distance: week one]
The first of my weekly NFL column at Troubl. Written just before yesterday’s games!

loco nunca | not for hire
For a snarky Austin magazine.

[and now, life]

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 16:49:36 GMT

In the past two weeks, I've packed our London flat, sold our unwanted London possessions, flown overseas, set up new bank account and cell phone services, driven across America, attended a wedding, slept in six different beds in four different states, searched for a place to live, signed a lease on a house, loaded an entire 20'x10' storage unit into a 17' truck by myself, and unloaded it into the house.

Today I am buying a Nintendo Wii and have no plans for anything more strenuous for the next week than liberating the kingdom of Hyrule.

South Austin favor?

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 18:02:32 GMT

Does anyone who might be near Slaughter Lane and S Congress around 5:30 tonight want to do me and Kat a favor?

We have to drop off a rental truck at the big Penske at 8800 S Congress, but our car will be down in Manchaca, two exits and a real twisty road away, and it'd be real nice to have a ride back. It's only about 5 miles, and you will be rewarded with tales of the drunk Irishmen who would sing and play Pogues' songs outside of my window all summer long. Or specifically not those tales, if you prefer.

I'll be away from the computer all day, but I have a new phone number- did I mention that? It's (512) 698-0777 and you can text me or call me. They call people in America still, right? In England you just text, unless it's your mom or somebody.

Thanks!

--d

[homeless - less]

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 00:59:08 GMT

We are back in Austin. We just signed a lease on a house on Woodrow Ave, just north of North Loop. It is four times the size of our flat on Hornsey Road in London. Y’all will have to come see it.

[on the road again]

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 15:59:13 GMT

Adios, Indiana. Onward to Texas.

I expect we'll stay the night tonight somewhere between Memphis and Little Rock, watch the Obama speech at the hotel, and then finish up in Dallas early in the evening tomorrow. Kat's friend is getting married on Sunday, and my brother has a housewarming party on Monday. I'll be in Austin on Tuesday, Go go go gogo go!

dansolomon.com:
[liveblogging the new metallica single] | what a bunch of fruitcakes

[home?]

Tue, 26 Aug 2008 16:08:17 GMT

Back in America. I have never, ever been this tired. It's the kind that lives in your headbones, makes you exhausted by eight o'clock at night (really one AM) and no fun at all to be around from that point on... I've slept ten hours a night the past two nights, which is unheard of for me. It's going to take a little while before I feel like I'm actually here.

We landed in Detroit and passed through immigration and customs which went quickly for us, becase we're white and normal-looking, relatively speaking. When we got into the line for immigration, it was a short one, but I hadn't noticed that we were the only white people in it. It's fucked up and strange, realizing that that's really how they decide who to grill about whether they're really allowed in, but it would otherwise be a remarkable coincidence. Standing in a line behind six Asian and Indian people, it takes fifteen minutes to get through, while dozens of white folks blaze through the checkpoint in rapid succession. Everybody else in our line had a series of questions to answer, ours took half a minute. are you a citizen? did you have a nice trip? ...well, we were living over there, not- and we're waved through.

Retrieved and re-checked bags, landed at O'Hare. My parents picked us up, we ate Gino's East Pizza and dropped Kat off downtown to spend a couple days with her friend. Spent the night in a hotel outside the city, drove to Indianapolis the next day. Before we left, went to American Supermarket. Holy cow. I wandered around for about ten minutes with my mouth agape, feeling like Alien Visitor. Geez. When did America become foreign?

In London, American junk food, available but with novelty status, became a treat... Oreos and Reese's Cups and french fries from KFC, just for a little slice of home. I think I realized I was home for good for the first time when I saw things like that in the supermarket and realized that they weren't meant to be exciting anymore. It came like a flash, a thing I knew but didn't know how I knew, and continues to come and go. It's very different, being home and realizing that it's to stay. It'll be more normal when we're back in Austin.

Spent all day yesterday in Indianapolis, which is fine. Came back to strange new car problems, which were fixed by removing a bulb that wouldn't go off from the passenger door. Weird to have new problems in a car that hasn't been driven except around the block once a month in a year, but who knows? Maybe a rat ate the wire or something. It's no longer a problem, so who cares?

Kat came in to Indy last night via Greyhound. Was not killed or beheaded by fellow passenger, so nothing to report on that front. Bank of America canceled our debit cards and sent out new ones, which we failed to receive because we lived in England. That was a weird surprise, especially because they're not due to expire until 2011. Lots of little things are just a little different. Did you know that there are not Bennigan's anymore? How weird is that? You go to England and Bennigan's is a thriving crappy restaurant chain, come back a year later and they're just a bunch of empty lots... I do not miss them, but it's strange that they're gone.

Still disjointed, but getting better. Watched some of the Democratic National Convention last night, and some of the Cubs game. Played Wii Tennis. Thinking maybe we should get a Wii? Decisions are hard to make right now. I'm still kinda jetlagged, and it's days later. It still feels a little bit like the evening, even though it's barely noon. This is a long process, but there's no hurry.

Also, at dansolomon.com:
[the dumbest thing ever written?] | glenn beck embarrasses free-marketers everywhere

on dansolomon.com

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:49:38 GMT

[slowdown] ¦ just a note about the site
[previously on lost] ¦ recap rock to the rescue
[proof i'm a bad person] ¦ my greatest disappointment with leaving

[leaving]

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:46:17 GMT

I really want to try to recap this year. That's what I should be doing, right? Writing something moving and personal that puts this whole experience in perspective, summarizing the lessons I learned, the things I saw, the best and the worst of it, and what I'll be bringing home with me...

But I have nothing to say about it yet. This is bigger than that. I can't tell you the handful of things that I got from this strange year on this weird island. I hated parts of it so much, but it was one of the most positive experiences of my life. I wished every day to be back home, but not-being-home taught me so many things that I'd assumed I'd already learned. After all, this wasn't meant to be anything new. I've moved an average of- something like every other year since I was ten. I didn't realize what being away would mean, I'm still learning, and I expect I will for a long time.

I'm standing up right now in a branch of the unfortunately-named Carphone Warehouse on Oxford Street, because they have free-to-use laptops in order to draw customers in. Carphone Warehouse is sort of the UK equivalent to Best Buy, I guess? The nicer ones are. They're a lot smaller, and they usually only deal in computers and accessories, cell phones and iPods, that sort of thing. But they're the company that's affiliated with the "Geek Squad" brand here, so it's got the association.

I'll miss noticing these things, trying to explain how different it is over here in so many ways that you don't expect. That much I know I'll miss. I don't know about the rest. There's a David Foster Wallace book called <I>a supposedly fun thing i'll never do again</i>. I don't like his writing, but that title sort of sums it up. I'll be glad every day for the rest of my life that I came here and did this, that I learned how American I am in so many ways and how small my perspective is, but I can't say I'll miss it much. At least, I don't think so.

Here's one more thing: Maybe you're with somebody, you've got somebody in your life you know is going to be there a while. Your boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife, or maybe a brother or a sister or a friend who serves as one, maybe a child. Anybody whose life you're invested deeply in. Anyway. If you get to see that person change and learn and grow and develop and <I>become</i> in the ways that I've been privileged enough to watch happen with Kat, then you'll understand that how much I didn't like English food or how expensive everything was or how I missed all of my friends- all of that is so small. Just wait, America. She's coming.

And maybe this is a summary, sort of, but not the one I meant to write. I expect that one will take a long time, maybe years, before I understand it enough to put it down. But I'm going home tomorrow, and there's no rush at all.

[sneak preview]

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 13:57:26 GMT

Here's a short excerpt from an early bit of Mystery White Boy, the almost-finished novella set in the Rio Grande Valley punk rock scene of the late 90's and early 00's. Just to air it out a little, mostly.

The venue cost a few hundred dollars to rent, but you could easily get away with charging five bucks a head at the door. There was a nice stage, good sound, and a capacity of several hundred. On a good night, a promoter could take in enough to pay for the sound guy, the venue rental, and all the beer. In the days before the collective, it seemed like most of the money that was put together went toward beer, and this meant that the next show was never a given. None of the promoters were full-time, or anything like it. They were students or waiters or maybe mechanics in garages that their uncles owned, and they would have to work their day jobs and save in order to come up with enough money to put on the next show. Gabriel's plan was to collectively fund the shows, using the profits at the door to ensure that the next one was already paid for, and using the remainder for flyers and the production costs of a compilation CD to promote all of the bands in the collective.
The show that night had been five bands, which the collective had agreed was the right number- a dollar a band at the door. Four of them were local bands who were part of the collective, selected to play on a rotating basis, and one of them had been invited to come down from Austin. I was there because I was always there for the collective's shows, and because Childhood's End was playing. I loved their music, loved to see my friends on stage. This was the point at which going to see a big concert, where somebody whose songs played on the radio, stopped being any sort of thrill to me at all. This was the point at which punk rock became mine again, the way it did for every generation who discovered it, because it was personal and powerful and the visceral energy one gets from holding a connection to the band onstage opens you up to a new kind of greatness.
Childhood's End was playing, and so were Double Trouble, Red Right Hand, and Cry Wolf. I don't remember the name of the band that came down from Austin, but they were never mine, and the captivating power of seeing them play belonged to their friends, who made the six hour drive with them and understood their greatness subjectively.
Years later, I would have the same experience in Minot, North Dakota, touring with Childhood's End. The show then would be at a VFW hall in a dilapidated downtown that had started to die out in the mid-80's and existed only as a handful of law offices and a few municipal buildings, and we would be the ones who arrived in someone else's scene, visitors playing to some who were only there for their friends, and some who were desperate to see something new and different, something that came from somewhere else, just to remind them that there was life out there that came from somewhere off of Highway 83. But at Trenton Point, the night of the collective show that ended with Gabriel and Joel from Cry Wolf beating the hell out of each other in front of all of the kids who looked up to them, the idea that I'd ever end up in another nowhere town on the other side of the country from Edinburg seemed impossible.
This is a list of things that I thought were impossible when I was twenty, before I learned that almost anything you think is impossible when you're twenty years old speaks more to the failures of your imagination than to your understanding of the world.
These are the things that I carried with me all over the world, the Texas-shaped scar I wore like a brand in every city in America, and found myself explaining to strangers throughout Europe. This is a story of the Valley and of the power of punk rock, which defies everyone's expectations by only getting stronger with each passing generation. This is a list of things that you may have already figured out for yourself.

Also, there are a couple new ones at dansolomon.com, including:
[on finding a place to live on craigslist] | why most advertising is crappy

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 16:08:09 GMT

Kat spent at least ten minutes the other night trying to show me a wrinkle in her face that she saw earlier in the day.

This is how we spend our evenings sometimes. You wish that you lived with us.

(edit: apparently the video embed was for something else entirely. I dunno why. It should be fixed now.)

Five days to go.

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 13:54:24 GMT

Going to see the Hold Steady tonight, so I'll probably write about that in a little while. In the meantime, two new ones at dansolomon.com:

[on the glory of 90's rock] | the majesty of the alt-rock power ballad, from Buffalo Tom to Jets to Brazil

[go veep yourself] | why I hope Obama picks your mom as his vice president