Barcelona

A long, long time ago, in February, Laura and I watched "Vicky Christina Barcelona". Like everyone else, we left the theater longing to visit Barcelona. It was admittedly a silly and fleeting romantic desire. However, a couple weeks later I got wind of the Primavera Sound music festival in Barcelona. Two impossible bands to see live, My Bloody Valentine AND Aphex Twin, on the first day for 60 euro. Laura and I were sold on this excuse to visit Spain and booked a five day excursion.

It's worth noting that the weather in Manchester in the spring is absolutely horrid. It's still relatively cold and it rains most days. When it rains really hard, it hails. But only for a bit. Then the clouds will clear and the sun will come out and you'll think I should take this opportunity to take a walk. An hour later you're sprinting through a downpour cursing the baby Jesus. Needless to say I was overly excited just to feel Barcelona.

My plane left Manchester on Monday around noon. A girl behind me was playing her ipod unnecessarily loud and I eventually stopped my own ipod. Through my headphones, I recognized what she was playing and it was driving me crazy trying to think of the artist. Groove Armada. Now I wasn't annoyed with her loud ipod, which is hard for me to accept in retrospect. A couple in the row beside me ordered several Stellas and chips to enjoy with their DVD player, which they watched in full volume without headphones. It looked and sounded like MASH. Their son played a PSP. A guy a couple rows in front of me stood up in the isle for about half of the two-hour flight. He had a strange body shape: his chest was like a trunk but his arms and head were proportionately smaller. I'm convinced he was The Tick.

I met up with Laura in the Barcelona airport and we made our way by train to the city centre. We had an ensuite double room at the Mediterranean Hostel. We were told when we got there that the room would be ready in an hour. Being that neither of us had slept much the night before (I am always incredibly restless nights before traveling), we desperately wanted to nap and we told the lady we'd be back in an hour. "So eager to get to your room!" she replied. Laura blushed. The palm of my hand hit my forehead.

We went to eat at a small cafe a few blocks from the hostel. A menu outside showed a sandwich resembling grilled ham and cheese called a "bikini". We sat down and a man came over to take our order. Laura told him that we only speak "Anglais" and he threw up his hands and replied "No! No! No!". Every head in the place turned towards us. "This is going to be interesting," Laura said to me.

Our room was on the 7th floor, or the "attic". It had a great view of the city. We could see Torre Agbar (the egg looking building in the picture) and Temple de La Sagrada Familia from our room. That night we took a walk around the beautiful Gothic district.

The next day was our "Gaudi day". We first saw the Casa Battlo (right), which was designed, with it's broken ceramic tiles, to look like a dragon. It's an astonishing building, but even more so when placed conspicuously on Barcelona's busiest, most commercial street, Passeig de Gracia.

A block away is the Casa Mila (below), or what was referred to as "La Pedrera" or "The Quarry", which is somewhat offensive. The nickname must have been granted to the design of the roof, one of the more creative architectural feats I've witnessed. Each floor of the building was individually designed to structurally hold it's own, like a cake. As a result there are very few straight walls inside and no obtrusive framework, giving the rooms greater freedom of space and window arrangements. The building was redesigned several times for the tenets living there, causing the roof to have an uneven, wavy appearance. Also the chimneys were inspiration for the design of Darth Vader's helmet.

Next we saw the futuristic Temple de La Sagrada Familia (below), which is still under construction and optimistically scheduled to be finished in 2026. The scale and design are like no church I have ever seen. Gaudi spent the last 15 years of his life dedicated to it's design and even lived in the church's crypt. We then took a lengthy walk north to the Parc de Guell (further below), named after Gaudi's patron.






























Much of the park looks like something out of a Dr. Suess book or a dream. Apparently Gaudi once said to Guell, "Sometimes I think we are the only people who likes this architecture." Guell replied, "I don't like your architecture, I respect it." Like alot of artists, Gaudi's work wasn't fully appreciated until the years following his death. In 1926, he was run over by a tram. Because he had little money, ragged clothing and mostly likely bleeding immensely, no cab driver would pick him up. He was eventually taken to a pauper's hospital, refused to be taken to a nicer hospital and died three days later. So it goes.

That night I enjoyed my first steak since I left the states in January, served with a delicious raspberry sauce. Laura and I drank a good bit of sangria, discussed our mutual crush on Tina Fey and debated whether or not I'm a feminist.

The next morning we had our usual croissant and coffee breakfast and explored the Gothic district by day. The massive cathedral was under construction, but did have an awesomely unnecessary garden with geese, turtles and fish. We made our way to a park with a giant Romanesque fountain (under construction), a mammoth statue and a zoo that was sadly too expensive for us. We did visit the Museu de la Xocolata which just made me very hungry.

We changed into swimsuits and took the metro to Barceloneta to hit up the beach. Turns out we didn't really need our swimsuits. As we passed a topless lady building a sandcastle, Laura declared sarcastically "You're welcome." The surprising thing to me was seeing just how casual public nudity is for Europeans. Next to where we had laid down, three topless girls took turns massaging each other and in front of us, Muscly Arms in a banana hammock and his blond topless girlfriend stood drinking beers and laughing. The water, in which I normally spend most of my time at the beach, was entirely too cold to swim. Guys walked around offering tattoos, which seemed strange, but as Laura pointed out, they wouldn't sell them if there wasn't a market for them. It was the complete opposite of the family-friendly Emerald Isle beach where I spend alot of my summers.

That night was the Championship League final between Manchester United and Barcelona. We went to dinner about the time the match started and as we left the restaurant the streets were still and eerily quiet. Assuming Man-U was winning, we walked to the city centre where the game was being played on a giant screen. There was still a large gathering in the square and looking up we noticed the game was down to stoppage time and Barca was up 2-0. Only when time had expired did the crowd erupt. From up on the Heineken building, fireworks exploded and hundreds of people trickled through the streets to join the party. We got celebratory gellato before returning to the hostel where we listened to every car honking and what sounded like cannons being shot off. There'd be a loud explosion and then the sound of glass and ceramics shattering. All of that continued late into the night. It was like a Franklin St. celebration in the middle of a medieval war.

On Thursday Laura and I went to the Museu Nacional D'art de Catalunya. It too was under construction, a prevalent theme to the city. We were disappointed to find that the Magic Fountain (foreground of picture), one of Barcelona's most iconic sites, does not operate during the day. At the entrance to the museum we were granted with fine Spanish guitar and our best view of the city. Inside, the art was impressive and inspired us to create words like "relaxative" (a stronger, more habit-forming chill pill) and "welfare eye" (the only way to describe the extent of my eye's laziness). We also found some nice gardens and the 1996 Olympics grounds.

That night was the amazing and exhausting Primavera Sound music festival, which I will detail fully in the next entry. The next morning, after a couple hour's rest, Laura and I said our goodbyes and I looked for my airline to check in. I asked an employee where Monarch's check-in was and she asked if I was going to Manchester. I said "yes" and she replied "HAHA! You lost!" That may be true, but it wasn't in vain. I think Manchester learned a little something from Barcelona. Since I got back on Friday, it's been unusually warm and sunny.

Here's the (strange) music video for Giulia y los Tellarini's "Barcelona", the song used throughout Woody Allen's film.



Giulia y los Tellarini "Barcelona" (mp3)

p.s. I just found out you can click on any of the pictures in the post for a larger view, you know, in case you wanted to see if there were naked people on the beach.

life is pretty normal today

There are some days where there's just way too much damn stuff to do, or potential stuff to do, that you can't possibly get it all done. Yesterday was one of those days and I'll get to that in the next paragraph. Today, however, was just the opposite. A totally average day. So average, in fact, that I discovered a website devoted to daily averageness called MyLifeIsAverage. It's laugh-out-loud funny and better than TextsFromLastNight and FMyLife. Accordingly, my day could be summed up as follows:

The past two days my credit card had been frozen due to a fraud alert. Today I walked a mile through the rain to ASDA to get groceries, hoping my card would magically work. Nope. MLIA.

Yesterday had potential to be significantly less average as I had a difficult decision to make in terms of evening entertainment. A) I could see an early Deerhunter show, playing at the Deaf Institute around 6:00. B) I could see Sharon Van Etten (who I praised earlier this week) opening for a Canadian band at a bar around 8:00. C) I could possibly see both live shows or D) I could read a book and eat Easter candy.

I debated this decision all day. The reason Deerhunter was playing an earlier show was because the late show sold out, so they scheduled to play twice in one evening. I got to thinking what great incentive does the band have to perform well for the first show for the lazy casual fans that didn't buy tickets soon enough? To me it'd just be a warm up for the later performance. I also wasn't really in the mood for a wall of sound, which is what Deerhunter's psychedelic studio work translates into live. My one great incentive to going would have been to grab one of their Rainwater Cassette Exchange EPs which is actually a cassette. I imagine holding one would instantly bring back some 90s memories and when I returned from the flashback I'd have neon splashed clothes and a boombox and I'd say something like, "Whoooooooa."

I read up on the bar that Sharon was playing at and it really turned me off. No stage. Right next to the toilets. This sour review I was reading was for a Badly Drawn Boy show, and he's from Manchester! I've got a really good memory of Sharon Van Etten live and I didn't want it ruined by seeing her again in a crappy location. Therefore I didn't do either. MLIA. Turns out it was my friend Alicia's last night in Manchester so a few of us went out for drinks and karaoke and I spent about as much as I would have if I had picked one of those concerts. FML.

On another note, I did finally finish a book I've started a dozen or so times, Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s Slaughterhouse Five. Vonnegut has a way of writing that explores deeply depressing subjects and characters in a darkly humorous manner. It's like every character Bill Murray's played since the Royal Tenebaums. There's something immensely attractive about that ability.

I particularly liked the bit at the beginning when the narrator's telling a movie-maker that he's writing an anti-war book to which the movie-maker replies, "Why don't you write an anti-glacier book instead?". In other words, that there would always be wars and they're as easy to stop as glaciers. I agree with that statement, to some extent. It's hard to put it into perspective now that since 1969 when the book was written, glaciers are melting and "war" has at multiple times been titled before any real declaration (for example no one has ever officially declared war on drugs, terror or Iraq). In the brilliant television show The Wire, detectives Greggs, Carver and Hauk are discussing one of many drug cases in the Baltimore projects:

Greggs: Fighting the war on drugs, one brutality case at a time
Carver: You can't even call this shit a war.
Hauk: Why not?
Carver: Wars end.

And hence the aptly-titled Israeli-Palestine "Conflict". It's true that wars and glaciers are difficult to stop, but as we know, they melt eventually.

Since I made fun of Everclear yesterday, here's a song that goes along with this post's post-modern theme:

Everclear "Normal Like You" (mp3)

Hardest Trophy To Win In Sports

ESPN's NHL expert Barry Melrose likes to remind audiences that he thinks the Stanley Cup is the hardest trophy to win in all of sports. My typical response to this varies. Eye-rolling. Laughter. Changing the channel. I'm from North Carolina, where we like our basketball and will root for the 'Canes when they're in the playoffs. Much like the NBA and MLB there are just way too many regular season games for me to care until the playoffs arrive. Now that the Hurricanes are in the East Finals, my interest is peaked. Maybe I'm just championship hungry, spoiled with the successes of the UNC women's soccer and men's basketball seasons.

Very few sporting events have lived up to the excitement of watching the Hurricanes win the Stanley Cup in 2006. Now I have that same feeling. I'm staying up until 4:30 a.m. watching bad streams online and screaming at my computer. I love it. I've also gained a new respect for the game. I actually think Melrose is right on this.

Winning the NHL playoffs demands a certain amount of luck and skill. Unlike the one-and-done, single-elimination style of the NFL and NCAA basketball playoffs, the NHL uses the best-of-five bracket. This helps forgive fluke, uncharacteristic days by one team or another and generally rewards the better team of the two. It's set up so that there are less upsets and a deserving, "true" champion is crowned. NHL, MLB and NBA teams and fans aren't going to go through a 100 game season only to be given one shot to move on.

Unlike the MLB and NBA, the hockey games are much less consistent. Given that games are often decided by one goal, the chance of that difference-maker being pure luck is extremely high. Say a goaltender misreads one puck, or a defenseman loses the handle in the crease or a ref gives a bogus powerplay under two minutes. And this can happen in more than one game. It's possible for a team to advance on more happenstance in the NHL than any other sport.

On the other hand, the skill and effort that is required by NHL players is unparalleled. They must have speed and agility. They must be durable and strong enough to take and deliver hits. And they must be able to locate and handle a frozen puck with a stick. All while skating on ice! I can barely stop at the local rink, so to see these guys zooming around is unbelievable. Most of the guys are missing teeth and have several stitches covering their head. Hockey players demand so much from their bodies and yet it is the one sport you never hear about steroid use.

I think Carolina's got a shot against the Penguins. Granted Pittsburgh's got speed and a dynamic front line with Crosby, Malkin and Staal. But I've seen the 'Canes in this position before and I feel like they might ride this giant-killer, we-don't-get-respect status for years (much like the Spurs have this decade). They are at their best when nothing is expected of them. Cam Ward is playing stellar in the net, Rod Brind'Amour led the NHL in face-off win percentage and Staal and Jokinen have been clutch. The Pen's best defender is hurt. Plus Sergei Samsonov is the best hockey name EVER. Yes I know the 'Canes lost the first one, but I think if they take care of business at the deafening RBC Center and make it to game seven, they'll steal another one. Then it's off to a rematch of the 2002 finals where the 'Canes again will get clobbered by the Red Wings.

[Here comes a really pathetic lead-in...wait for it...] Speaking of hockey, I feel it's appropriate to mention the band everyone will inevitably be talking about after their first record drops on August 24th...Hockey. Yup, the most un-googleable band name since Women. I saw these guys open for the band that everyone will start talking about after their first record drops today, Passion Pit. They out-performed Passion Pit and have recently toured with Friendly Fires to raving reviews. Although they've already released a couple songs that are about as perfect as pop goes, critics have claimed they don't have enough material to be as big as their hype predicts. Hell if the Black Lips and BYOP can have success, Hockey will be just fine. Plus they have the advantage of being the best band out of Oregon since...um...Everclear?

Here's a song that's good for dancing, with or without clothes/friends. Also do yourself a favor and check out their myspace.

Hockey "Too Fake" (mp3)

Futuresonic

This past weekend in Manchester was Futuresonic, which is described as an "Urban Festival of Art, Music & Ideas". The four-day event showcased some of the best music in the world and it brought companies together for a conference exploring the latest advancements of today's digital culture. Not that I really care about the latter, but I think I'd be a pretty nice excuse for a businessman to hit up a music festival.

The first day opened with a showcase of contemporary classical and minimalist electronica at the Royal Northern College of Music, not more than five minutes walk from my hall. I've walked past the building many times, watching students train in sound studios onlooking the street. Inside was super posh, as expected. Patrons drank wine and bought expensive deserts before the show started. The concert took place in an opera theater and my seat was in the second row, even though when I bought my ticket, the website warned "Buy quick, selling out fast!" Everyone around me seemed to be laughing at that nifty marketing trick.

The first act was Denis Jones. He looped together acoustic guitar, vocals and smooth electronica. He looked like the dude from Iron and Wine and his songs had the same folk air. It was unbelievably beautiful. He only played for half an hour but received the only standing ovation of the night. An older man behind me called him a "genius". The next performance was the one I'd be anticipating, the contemporary Icelandic composer Johann Johannsson. His 2008 album "Fordlandia" is one of the most moving works I've listened to. It's what I fall asleep to. His show with a string quartet was otherworldly. The headliner of the night was the Mexican electronica duo Murcov and AntiVJ. It was a world premiere of their audiovisual work, which was...strange. A screen separated the DJs and the audience and on it was projected linear movements of the music. Sometimes it was like watching live Fantasia but mostly it just kinda looked like the visualizations from Windows Media Player. The best part was looking back behind me at the lights shining over the audience, particularly the stars. Some people were asleep.

On Friday I went to see a free performance at the RNCM. It was a collaborative performance from RNCM and Seed Studios presenting panel-selected works that blended genres like "a country song that morphs into a Stockhausen-esque soundscape". Sounds amazing right? I convinced my friends Mark and Trent to come along. We arrived 10 minutes late, which I thought would be ok, considering most performances start at least 30 minutes after the time given. We were directed to what looked like a middle school music room at Christmas. Bleachers lined one side of the room and the bands on the other, with tacky streams of light thrown on various fixtures. It had already started and the three of us awkwardly waited for a sign to stay or leave. We sat down after the song. As it was, all the performers looked straight out of the crazy house or no house at all. An elderly black lady played a xylophone in one song, just going up and down the scales without any real purpose. Then she sang a song next, called "Hello Halo Angel", which she wrote last year when "Life was really bad" or something like that. It was an awkward spoken word gospel tune. A drunk homeless man behind me announced really loudly in the middle of it he was going out for a smoke and did so. The MC for the night (presumably the instructor) played a song he'd been "cooking up for years" about his parents and his piano playing looked like that of a muppet. The three of us left after intermission, holding in our laughter and I apologized profusely. We walked uptown and found the CUBE displaying art for Futuresonic. There was some cool stuff inside, like plants connected to audio samples that played when you touched the leaves. There was also free wine. We went further uptown to an old man pub for some cheap pints with a good view of the Manchester Wheel. And homeless men taking unfinished drinks.

Saturday I went to see a lo-fi indie mini-festival at Urbis. Times New Viking started things off loudly. Their latest album is probably the loudest I've listened to outside of Guitar Wolf. Despite the feedback and distortion, the band is surprisingly clean and pretty. It's also just the type of band I'd like to play in, given the choice. Simple guitar work? Check. Drummer and keyboardist do all the singing? Check. Keyboardist is cute? Check. The drummer dedicated each song to something or someone, which was pretty funny and after one song when NO ONE clapped he boldly mentioned that "It's cool, you don't have to clap." I felt bad, like I was a part of this. I'm like you! I'm American! Dammit. Crystal Antlers was next and they easily win the prize for "Most Homeless Looking Band". They would have been super generic except for this one dude who looked like they just picked him up off the street. His job was to play the bongo (rock bongo?) and make interpretive/sexual dance moves. It was hilarious. Marnie Stern came on after, which was a nice change of scenery. She's a rock goddess, in my book, and one of the few (only?) modern female rockers known for her guitaring. Why the guitar is so staunchly masculine is, to me, one of the greatest mysteries in rock music. A woman shredding is like finding a four-leaf clover. Why? Marnie rocked the socks off everyone expecting some Bangles shit. The sound mixing was horrible most of the show but the funny banter between Marnie and her bassist made up for it. Ariel Pink closed the night. The lead singer looked a bit like Golem and acted the part, talking to himself at various points. Their brilliant new stuff was the highlight, especially the poppy "Flashback", which sounded like a cover from a bad 80s movie theme and caught everyone completely off guard. The best part of the night was that all the bands were excited to perform with each other, so when they weren't on stage they'd mingle and dance in the crowd.

Last night I went to a free show at Night and Day Cafe to close Futurefest: "From Japan with Love". It was the best night of the fest, by far. The themes of the night were energy and cute. While he mixed songs, De De Mouse bounced around like he was doing DDR at home. Riddim Saunter sounded like if DFA records produced a ska band. DJ Tucker played just about every instrument in the house, lit his keyboard on fire, then spun on top of it, kicking and breaking a light. 80Kidz all looked way too young to be in a bar but were super dancey and fun. Also the acts were poignant: it started right at 7:00 and ended relatively early, something they could teach western artists. It was probably the most fun I've had at a show since Monotonix or the Hold Steady.

Among the acts I couldn't see, for reasons of money and/or time, were Anti-Pop Consortion, Daedelus, Phillip Glass, and one of my favorite new artists Soap&Skin. Sorry this post was super long. As thanks for getting this far, here's a lovely song from Johann Johannsson. Y'all come back now.

Johann Johannsson "The Rocket Builder (Io Pan!)" (mp3)

Sharon Van Etten

I first heard about Sharon Van Etten last summer when she opened for the Bowerbirds. Her tiny frame emit such a sad and beautiful voice that I was paralyzed (along with the five other people lucky enough to show up early). I waited to hear more from the Brooklyn gal and a year later it looks like she's finally surfaced. Here is her new video for "For You [Language of Stone]".

naked as we came

It took months of intensive brainstorming, but I think we've finally found a fad suitable for the recession: streaking. Yup. It costs no money at all to get started and in fact if you exchange all your clothes at Wal Mart, you could actually make a profit. Girlfriend, don't even act like your broke ass ain't done that before.

The Brooklyn dance duo, Matt and Kim, seem to have answered Will Ferrell's rally for going streaking and it only took them six years. Good thing, too, because they found the perfect spot: Times Square in the dead of winter. They filmed the whole thing for their music video of "Lessons Learned". Check it out:



It's all real, except maybe the ending. Just a hunch. Apparently they told onlookers they were making a mayonnaise ad, of all things. If this is 2009's "Thank You" video from Alanis Morissette, than the French (of course) had to make a sexy version, a la D'Angelo's "Untitled (How Does It Feel?)". Here is Make The Girl Dance's video of "Baby Baby Baby":

Make The Girl Dance "Baby Baby Baby" ( official video )
Uploaded by placeblancherec - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

I think it wins for Best Children's Karaoke Toy Ad. EVER. Can't say much about the song though.

What I have learned from these two videos is that my calling is to go streaking in London. Here's why: When it comes to the biggest cities in the west, we've already covered New York and Paris. All that's left is London and I'm relatively close for another two months. The other qualification is that you have to look like you need a sandwhich REAL BAD. Check. (although I will give props to Kim, who looks like she could kick my ass). Now I just need a dancey song to groove to. I'm thinking "Totally Nude" by Talking Heads would be fun and appropriate.

If anyone else is interested, we need to jump on this bandwagon ASAP. If you want to bring a childhood toy along too, that'd be okay.

Talking Heads: "Totally Nude" (mp3)

Andrew Bird (Live at Manchester Academy)

Going into something with high expectations is often a mistake. I learned this lesson with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's live show and Indian food in England. When Andrew Bird came to town last Wednesday, my expectations were through the roof for the following reasons: A) I had been given a rousing review from Laura, who saw him a week ago in Lyon B) I've seen him before, in what was an awe-inspiring solo performance C) His new album "Noble Beast" is his best yet.

It's worth noting that Manchester Academy has three different venues. Academy 1 (the biggest) had no one playing that night. At Academy 2, Little Boots was performing. Bird got the shaft with the smallest venue, Academy 3. Being that his show was sold out, someone explain this to me.

Opening for Bird was an uninspiring Cortney Tidwell, who I've seen popping up on blogs recently. Her singing was of the prepubescant Regina Spektor crap that is oh so popular today. The blossoming folk singer Laura Marling had just finished touring with Bird, so to be replaced by Tidwell was a little disheartening.

Andrew Bird delivered, as expected. He came on by himself and layered instrument, voice and whistles together so beautifully that it was actually a pleasure watching those around me who were seeing this for the first time. It's hard to grasp his natural talents from his studio work, so to see him live leaves you breathless.

The addition of his full band gave Bird's songs much more depth than he could re-create himself and seeing percussionist DOSH in action was an added bonus. The highlight of the night was "Natural Disaster", an airy track from "Nobel Beast" that rocks in a chair on a porch somewhere in the southern United States. "Imitosis" best showcased all of Bird's talents as he volleyed between violin, guitar, xylophone, whistling and singing.

Beyond all his musical talents, Bird's lyrical expertize stands out in his live performances. Like a poet reciting his lines for the first time in a coffee shop, Bird delivers each phrase with dramatic concern and the audience responses as if they've never heard these words before. After reading brilliant posts he's made for the New York Times (particularly the one detailing the process of writing "Oh No"), it's safe to consider his work as a whole nothing short of genius.

It's impossible to expect too much from Andrew Bird in his live performance because his audiences will always underestimate him. At least for now. If anything, you'll be sure to leave whistling the rest of the night.

Video I recorded of "Why?" (It's a little better if you click HQ)

I'm On A Blog!

I told myself going into this study abroad experience that I would create a blog so that I might better remember some of my adventures, thoughts and friends but also gain extra practice in writing. Its the most therapeutic activity I have here without a guitar and dog who likes to fetch. How I've survived five months without writing daily is a mini-miracle.

Ten reasons for starting a blog, right now:
1. I'm done with school
2. It's spring in Manchester, which means it rains 90 percent of the day, translating into lots of time spent in my prison cell of a room.
3. Within the past week I've discovered the Deerhunter/Atlas Sound blog and consequently opened my world to a ton of music blogs. I want in.
4. Within the past week my GF/BFF made a blog, so I should too.
5. I'm spending the last two months in Manchester watching a lot of TV shows online, reading books, jumping on the bandwagon of the NBA and NHL playoffs and seeing some good live music. All of this translates into good blog material (I should hope).
6. I will also be traveling a little more, which is always good to write about.
7. At UNCG I DJ at WUAG and write for the Carolinian, two forms of media that result in no true measurement or demographic of audience. I feel like blogging is a similar media tool.
8. I can be a little more uncensored and candid here than with university-related media.
9. I would eventually like to use this as a space to share MP3s if I can figure that out.
10. Blog-style writing is the future of journalism. Writers like Bill Simmons, Chuck Klosterman and Dr. Z make a living combining proper journalistic technique with humor and pop-culture allusions. Journalism has evolved with the cell phone, which used to be single-function. Because the internet has made information more accessible, journalism's main goal is no longer to provide information, but to entertain.

The name Gathering Wool comes from my awkward days in middle school. Even though I had no interest in communicating with friends on dial-up internet, my sister insisted I get AIM instant messanger. I scanned through the dictionary looking for a clever screen name (the great thing about looking like Minkus from Boy Meets World is all the free time!). At 'W' I found "Wool Gathering" which means to daydream. I've since used in it my Life column in the Carolinian and sometimes when I make speeches after I drink too much.

My second choice for the title of this blog was "Bloggy Moutaintop" and yes, that does sound rediculous. I came up with that name as I was singing "Foggy Mountaintop" in the shower this morning. It's an old Carter Family tune but the version I really like is by the Three Pickers (Earl Scruggs, Doc Watson, Ricky Skaggs) which is about as North Carolina as you can get. Enjoy for yourself:



I hope to be consistant with this blog and as always, I'd love to hear from you.

Oh shit, get your towels ready.