Theme Park Experience

Even though I never publicly stated this, I was very hesitant to get a Twitter account. Matter of fact, I told some friends I didn't want to get one. I just had several reasons to stay off of it. I have a Facebook page, and I don't have any character limits with its status updates. If I have a Twitter page, would I be happy being confined to 140 characters? Unlike Fall Out Boy, I've never hated Twitter. But I've never been a fan of a status update on Facebook filled with Twitter language. There's something not so appealing about reading "RT @username Hahaha!! FTW" without hyperlinks or context. Besides, is that really language? Anyway, since I'm not a fan of abbreviations (I rarely abbreviate anything in a text message, by the way), Twitter just didn't seem like the place for me. The change of heart started when I saw how people like used Richard Kelly, Conan O'Brien, and Damon Lindelof used the page. No flowery puff pieces. No press releases t...

There was a time that I absolutely hated everything about Fall Out Boy. In the archives of this blog, you will find a few pointed rants about the alleged merits and allure of this band. But you will also find some nice words about the band's 2007 album, Infinity On High . Yes, as surprising as Seth Petruzelli's win over Kimbo Slice, I really liked what the Young FOB had come out with. Yet I thought this was a fluke and didn't further investigate their follow-up, Folie a Deux . Well, last week's edition AV Club Q&A got me thinking about the kind of pop culture that makes me feel old. Right off the top of my head, it's "greatest hits" compilations from bands that I still think are young. Young in the sense that these artists have nothing guaranteed about their legacy other than selling a lot of records. Young in the sense that their record label is trying to get the most out of a band's short lifespan. And young in the sense that I still ...

The bug is back. Over the weekend, I reviewed the Alkaline Trio show and I also got the chance to take some pictures during the first three songs. Thanks to the person at the label who set me up with a pass to the show, I also got a photo pass. I couldn't pass up an opportunity to at least try something I had not done in at least five years. There was a time when I used to photograph a lot of bands. I'd get a disposable camera from Tom Thumb, take a bunch of pics at the show, process them, and then scan them into my computer. I don't know when or why I stopped doing this, but I think I just got tired of doing that whole process along the way. Film was going out of style, and digital seemed like a lake I wasn't so sure to jump into yet. Back when I moved into the house I live in now, I blew up a picture I took of that life-changing Red Animal War show and framed it. (A portion of it is on the cover of POST .) The pic hangs in the hallway between my bedroom and Matt'...

Speaking of The Box , a song used in it is my pick for this week's edition of Staff Trax. Also, I did an interview with Alkaline Trio's Matt Skiba in regards to this weekend's show in Dallas.

I had Stephen King's Storm of the Century miniseries checked out from Netflix for almost a full month. I finally got around to watching it over a couple of nights a few weeks ago, and overall, I enjoyed its four hours. While I found some of the acting very hammy and the music just reeking of silly 1990s TV scores ("Hey, keyboards are awesome and you don't need live musicians! It sounds just like the real thing!"), I was quite taken with the final twenty minutes of it. Without spoiling anything, let's just say the final quarter deals with the decision the town makes in dealing with the evil stranger that has come to town. There are plenty of reasons as to why they should have made their decision, while there are plenty of valid reasons to have done something else. This kind of ambiguity of what the "right" thing to do is all over King's work. Frankly, I like reading books and watching movies that don't present the "right" thing to do ...

After six months of wanting (and waiting) to see Paranormal Activity , it finally arrived in my mailbox from Netflix. Ever since its late December release, the availability of a Blu-ray copy has been listed as a "long wait" until last week. And I didn't want to buy it instead of waiting since it's very, very thin on extras. And frankly, the asking price on DVD was just out of the question. Plus, I wasn't sure I wanted to own this flick on DVD. Remember, once the marketing is finished for a film, it's all in the hands of those who speak up about a flick, be it very positive or very negative. I wasn't sure which end of critical spectrum I'd be. So I used caution and waited. Overall, I was pleased with the film, but I didn't love it. I was not very sympathetic to the boyfriend and girlfriend in the leads. Their handling of the situation, especially on the guy's end, was just something I couldn't dig into. But I was genuinely creeped out by the...

My review of the Dillinger Escape Plan's Dallas show is now online. After the show was over, it was snowing and extremely windy. So, the Equal and I did the logical thing: went to a bar in Fair Park and had a drink. Just a wonderful night.

My aunt recently sent me a column called, "Rules to live by for a lifetime." It was a lengthy list with many great observations on life written by someone who had lived a very long life. Some of the rules were, "However good or bad a situation is, it will change" and "Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does." I agree with many of these "rules," but one of the ones I really took was this one: "Frame every so-called disaster with these words: 'In five years, will this matter?'" I completely agree with that one, but I take that many steps further: if we had a zombie apocalypse, will this matter? Before I start sounding like Winnie the Pooh's friend Eeyore tripping on LSD, I completely agree with the original statement. Too often, I can't seem to recall what I was mad about in the past, but I can remember being mad about something or scared of a potential crisis. And I'm talking about stuff that happened w...

This week's edition of Staff Trax credits Pete in the byline as of this writing, but I'm still the dude who collects the entries and edits them. Pete still has a say in the final edit and he posts the final product. This week, I fess up to not hearing a lot of classic KISS when I was younger.

Ever since I got a black eye in 8th grade on St. Patrick's Day, I've always had a superstition about not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. If you're looking for some dramatic story where I valiantly stood up to a bully, you will be let down. The real story is that a backpack, thrown by a friend of mine, accidentally fell onto my face. While that might sound like a domestic violence incident covered up a by a fall down the stairs, this is the whole truth. I can't remember why I was lying on the floor or why the backpack was flung in my direction, but I do remember the shiner I had to show to show to my relatives in Selma, Alabama during Spring Break. Coupled with some moments of physical pain on other St. Patrick's Days where I forgot to wear green, I've always remembered to wear green on this particular day. That is, until this morning. When I wake up at 4am (yes, 4am) Monday through Friday, I have a pattern. I must first turn off my clock radio, turn off ...

Last Sunday morning, after going to sleep around 4:30 am, our house was awoken at 9am by the sounds of a band playing next door. No, this wasn't some band playing in a garage. It was a band set up on a stage at the corner of a major intersection, and they were a part of a so-called "rock 'n' roll marathon." As runners ran a half-marathon through the M streets and the Lakewood area, they were serenaded by the sounds of what a general audience considers "rock 'n' roll." As a resident on one of the streets that was closed off for the event, I'd hardly call this a serenade of rock music. Maybe this was payback for all the years I drummed in my house in Kingwood at full volume, but I never played that early in the day, even on a Sunday morning. And what didn't help was that this band played blues/funk renditions of songs you've heard enough of over the years. If hell is repetition, then hearing blues bass lines over and over for three hour...

As of noon last Friday, Platinum 96.7 is no longer on the DFW airwaves. I, being completely honest and not having a tongue anywhere near my cheek, will miss this station. Even though a friend of mine in the industry jokingly called their format "wrist-cutting music," I was quite partial to the format. For those that aren't from the DFW area, Platinum was a soft rock station. Playing stuff like America's "I Need You" to James Taylor's "Handy Man" to Carole King's "It's Too Late" to Elton John's "Daniel," this was the kind of format that I listened to as a kid while riding with my mother in our Cadillac. There was Barbra Streisand, Neil Diamond, and some Motown throw in as well as many one/two-hit wonders from the 1970s. The station featured some radio talent I had worked with in my time in the area. Some of them I've kept up with thanks to the wonders of Facebook. So it wasn't fun to hear about them losing...

I covered a couple of NX35 shows this past weekend: here is my review of Fergus and Geronimo, and here is my review of the Black Angels. Both were at Hailey's, and one just blew my head off.

This week in Staff Trax includes two tributes to Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse, while I mention the greatness that is the Jackie Brown soundtrack. Read the whole thing here .

I like having regular routines, especially when it comes to exercising. But in the last few weeks, having any kind of routine has been problematic. The weather has been the main culprit, but there are others. You see, when I run with Victory, it's not just a simple run of three miles; it's a turbocharged race. As much as I love my dog, her hunting instincts can make her want to fly. Be it a cat, squirrel, or dog, if she senses one of them, she wants to see what's up. She doesn't want to throw down, but she does want to be seen on the radar. And that makes running/jogging into a thirty-minute test to keep up with her. I do plenty of stretching beforehand, but I have some tightness in my shins from time to time. Couple that with weak knees the following day while I'm at work. With the weather being rainy and cold one day and sunny and warm a few days later, I've had to schedule a few things around the non-sunny days. Now that band practice is back in session, I...

The stitches came off yesterday afternoon, hence why there was no blog post. Unfortunately, I don't have complete control of my right hand just yet. I got a call last week from the dermatologist telling me that all three of the moles removed were benign. No further surgery was required, and I just had to let these heal. Well, the one on my left leg is taking a little longer to heal, so I'm taking an oral medicine to help. Yes, healing moles through pills is possible. I must admit that I can be a crabby bitch when it comes to medical procedures. Since I really don't know much about why certain procedures must be done (like stitches for one mole removed), I get as fussy as one of my three-year-old nieces get when it's bedtime and she doesn't want to go to bed. I don't scream bloody murder, but I do squirm and panic a little. That's natural, right? Well, I don't think it is for someone who lists himself as an adult on tax returns. Until Friday, I have to ha...

This week's edition is available here . My pick this week was a happy accident on the way to finding Lifetime's self-titled record.

One week ago, I couldn't use my right hand for twenty-four hours. As of this writing, I still don't have full control over my right hand. But I should be back to normal by next week. And I should be able to play drums again by then as well. So, what happened? I got a mole removed from the back of my hand. Yes, one mole has sidelined me for almost two whole weeks. I've gone through mole removal before, but I never had to get sutures for them to heal. Since this certain mole required a deep removal, these were needed to fully heal. Just thinking about stitches makes me squirm and makes me feel panicky about having to deal with them. But I wanted to address why I would agree to go through such a frustrating and slightly physically-painful, but incredibly mentally-painful procedure. I've had moles all over my body for most of my life. There have been times that one will scab and fall off, but that's been the extent of things. I've thankfully never had one that grew ...

I'm not one to gloat and I'm very hesitant to quote a certain cheesy pop country song, but I thought it would be fun to do share a little dating stuff after I read this article. Since the article looks at seven types of guys girls date, I wanted to describe some of the girls that I dated before I dated the lady I'm currently (very, very happily) with. The Whiner Hey, I seem like a confident person on the outside, but inside, I whine a lot. I also sigh a lot. Especially when it comes to talking about how hard my job is. No one will ever understand how hard my job is and how unfair people treat me there. And on top of that, any offers of getting feedback or receiving consolation will be made light of because you don't work at my job. I also think getting excited about an airing of the Blade Runner theatrical cut on cable TV is soooo lame. The Partygoer I want you to meet this guy; he's one of my best friends. And this guy too. He's really, really cool. We'r...

I don't know if this a blessing or a curse, but years of listening to music and trying to play the notes on a guitar have led to something rather interesting. I do not claim to have Perfect Pitch, but it can be easy to pick out an open G chord by hearing it strummed on a guitar. But I can also claim to hear the opening note of a song when I hear a pitch coming from a non-musical instrument. For example, I recently heard a fart that sounded like the opening note of Iron & Wine's version of "Such Great Heights" and the song got stuck in my head. Yes, it's come to that: a single fart can cue up a song in my brain's jukebox. Recently, while at band practice, I was playing a few rolls on my snare drum as we prepared to rehearse a song. Somehow, hearing this certain roll made me think of Cheap Trick's "Surrender." I still don't know the "proper" way to tune a snare drum sound, other than trying to avoid the snare sound John Stanier ha...