Monday, May 5, 2014

You With The Stupid Name

I've gotten to that age, that age old age, where band names piss me off. Kids these days suck at naming their band. Granted, naming band is tough and the whole convention of having a band name seems all of a sudden yet gradually revealed to be very, very lame. My band name would be the Lightning Panthers. I tried to get my soccer team to take that name, and we did for a season. But once we became semi pro, we changed to the Diner Old Boys. Soccer team names are lame too. "Real Salt Lake"? Silliest thing I ever heard.  Then again, I'd be bummed if my team was called "The Raptors". Blech. The whole naming convention is so totally embarrassing.

Anyone know whether I'm supposed to put those periods and questions marks inside the quotations or out? I'm too old for this.

Today I did something abnormal. I wore headphones or, as they call them now, buds, in my ears and listened to music while walking around Manhattan. I did that for a while once ten or twelve years ago. I did it to Strauss waltzes, which works like a magic carpet ride of inadvertent, spontaneous choreography. I gave it up though. Too many real, incidental sounds missed. But today was different. I felt the spring in the air and I wanted to hear some Gil & Ben. I was surprised at how quickly all thought was obliterated from my skull. How all self conscious worrying was pushed out the nostrils. A professional rubbernecker in the best of moments, with music ringing in my ears I was like a floundering tourist on a speedball binge. I looked up, I looked over, I looked around. I didn't look down. Weird.

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