Five men and a little malady
As a means of exaggeration, you may hear me say "I almost passed out!" from time to time. This is often in reference to something I find particularly astonishing, such as when Natalie Portman shaved her head (and suddenly became attractive), or my first contact with the new, longer trailer for "The Corpse Bride." But Sunday, helping Aaron and John move from Berwyn to Oak Park in ridiculous heat, I truly did almost pass out. Pouring sweat, sprouting goosebumps, heart pumping so fast it felt like it was going to explode... you'd think I was in love. No, I am just out of shape. Somehow Ray and Chris remained upright, but after my vision started to blur I was down for the count. I can't believe those guys kept going after they sent me home out of concern for my safety.
Yesterday night, Goad and I went to a talk by Greg Behrendt, the guy who co-wrote the bestselling Oprah favorite "He's Just Not That Into You." She was getting extra credit for a class; I hoped it might give me some insight on avoiding one-sided relationships without having to read the damned thing. As I suspected, the book seems mainly comprised of horse-sense aphorisms about knowing and respecting oneself, but the sense of empowerment in that room was incredible. I was shocked at how many women came forward and recounted incredibly personal sagas of inconsideration and neglect in front of all those strangers. Whenever the room seemed about to ponder the notion that this sort of thing can happen with the genders reversed, or between the same gender, or between platonic friends or family or in any interpersonal relationship, someone always came back with a "So, I was dating this jerk..." story. It was interesting, but I instantly wanted beer by the time it was over.
I did leave with a decent nugget, although it's something that you probably already understand. My observations and experience tell me the primary barrier in a "s/he's just not that into you" situation is not that people don't know what those signs are, but rather they don't want to admit when it's happening to them. The reasons for this can be numerous, but ultimately you can't convince someone that they're being trod upon if they won't consider the possibility. In fact, that goes for the person doing the treading, too, since they don't want to think of themselves as a bad lover/friend/brother or whatever. It's always there, though, in those small, subtle ways we unconsciously hurt each other every day. But jeez, who would want to read a book about that?
Last Friday: a review of the new Dropkick Murphys album. Tomorrow: a sampling of recent viewings. Today: the teaser site for "Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny" and Primordial's beautiful recent album opener "The Golden Spheres". Bless the Irish!
Yesterday night, Goad and I went to a talk by Greg Behrendt, the guy who co-wrote the bestselling Oprah favorite "He's Just Not That Into You." She was getting extra credit for a class; I hoped it might give me some insight on avoiding one-sided relationships without having to read the damned thing. As I suspected, the book seems mainly comprised of horse-sense aphorisms about knowing and respecting oneself, but the sense of empowerment in that room was incredible. I was shocked at how many women came forward and recounted incredibly personal sagas of inconsideration and neglect in front of all those strangers. Whenever the room seemed about to ponder the notion that this sort of thing can happen with the genders reversed, or between the same gender, or between platonic friends or family or in any interpersonal relationship, someone always came back with a "So, I was dating this jerk..." story. It was interesting, but I instantly wanted beer by the time it was over.
I did leave with a decent nugget, although it's something that you probably already understand. My observations and experience tell me the primary barrier in a "s/he's just not that into you" situation is not that people don't know what those signs are, but rather they don't want to admit when it's happening to them. The reasons for this can be numerous, but ultimately you can't convince someone that they're being trod upon if they won't consider the possibility. In fact, that goes for the person doing the treading, too, since they don't want to think of themselves as a bad lover/friend/brother or whatever. It's always there, though, in those small, subtle ways we unconsciously hurt each other every day. But jeez, who would want to read a book about that?
Last Friday: a review of the new Dropkick Murphys album. Tomorrow: a sampling of recent viewings. Today: the teaser site for "Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny" and Primordial's beautiful recent album opener "The Golden Spheres". Bless the Irish!
posted by SoulReaper at 7:55 PM
3 Comments:
You can watch the trailer for "V for Vendetta" - the movie for which Natalie Portman shaved her head - here: http://vforvendetta.warnerbros.com/cmp/trailer_lrg.html
It's written by the Wachowski Brothers. It looks okay.
"But jeez, who would want to read a book about that?"
Masochists?
Dropkick Murphys, "The Warrior's Code" (Hellcat) ¤ ¤ ¤
There's not a subject too masculine nor a melody too Celtic for Boston's venerable Dropkick Murphys. They're clean-cut, domestic-drinking chaps who champion working class values like determination and loyalty, the sort of punks more likely to organize a police fundraiser than spit on a passing cop car.
Just because they're getting on in years ("Code" is the band's fifth full-length), that doesn't mean their anthemic, Irish-flavored street punk has lost its bite. In fact, this is their best record in years, brimming with rowdy barroom sing-alongs like "Your Spirit's Alive" and the traditional "Captain Kelly's Kitchen."
Ever so manly, the band pokes fun at the rising legion of touchy-feely emo punks in "Wicked Sensitive Crew." The title track salutes Massachusetts boxer "Irish" Micky Ward, while "Tessie" celebrates the Boston Red Sox's 2004 World Series win with a joyous, stick-in-the-brain chorus, its backing shouts courtesy of players such as slugger Johnny Damon.
"The Green Fields of France," a moving ballad by Scottish folk singer Eric Bogle, helps avoid the "Fighting Irish" stereotype the Murphys' style invites. As does the faster "Last Letter Home," it pays tribute to fallen soldiers as noble individuals - without grandstanding patriotism or political agenda.
"The Burden" and "Take It and Run" place typical gutter punk lyrics about young folks trying to make it in the plainer, Rancid-esque punk rock style which has always been part of the band's repertoire. However, the Dropkick Murphys' greatest strength is heard in tunes like "The Auld Triangle," where they kick more life into Brendan Behan's Celtic jail tale than even the Pogues ever did.
• Dropkick Murphys perform as part of Warped Tour '05, beginning at noon Saturday at Tweeter Center, 19100 S. Ridgeland Ave., Tinley Park. Tickets are $29.75. (312) 559-1212.
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