I've explained before that, during each of the four seasons of the year, I listen to a handful of specific, loyal albums that are only dusted off and played for a few select months. I find that this (a) simplifies my decision of what to listen to out of my entire album collection and (b) preserves a "seasonable" listening connotation in each album that acts as a kind of filing system for my memories. For example, if I wanted to recall that cold, sunny feeling of being out of school between Christmas and New Year of 2002 and all the worries and expectations that time held, I would pull out Badly Drawn Boy's The Hour of Bewliderbeast. Eventually, if my system remains consistent, that album will hold a decade of Christmas to New Years memories. Not to say that winter is the only time I'll listen to Badly Drawn Boy; but it is decidedly the peak season, like how some people choose certain fine wines for choice occasions. Which I'm not they do.
Anyway, in accordance with tradition, I pulled out Elton John's Honky Chateau and The Who's Tommy and the Almost Famous soundtrack to listen to while I sat on my bed doing homework. And about halfway into "Rocket Man" I felt on the verge of tears, because the damn thing made me half-believe that it was October 1st in Alpharetta and I was doing homework on my bed in my own room. I find that my autumn albums are all especially potent because they were all consistently birthday presents that I received on Sept. 24, which happens to be the second day of autumn and my favorite time of year. And so the weight of about 6 Alpharetta autumns just fell onto me, and I thought of going to birthday dinners with my family at Rafter's, and going to Beanie's with John before marching band practice in 9th grade, and then walking across the street to buy a corsage for Homecoming, and being nervous about whoever I was taking as my date, and seeing the trees on the corner of Academy St. and Haynes Bridge just starting to change.
I'm so fucking nostalgic and sentimental that I'm almost a caricature. I swear, I have a career at Hallmark. And I'm really very happy at Chicago, despite the fact that classes are hard like Mr. Caswell's bones are brittle and my distance from Kristen scares me. I love the people and the excitement here. It's just that listening to Elton John is making me wish more than ever that I was back home again.
I really miss all of you, and I don't talk to any of you half as much as I want to. I'm finding that the blogs aren't doing it for me anymore; I need to be more than a passive reader of your lifes' exploits. For some of you, a year ago marked the second or third week in Breakfast Club rehearsal, and I'd like to believe that I'm going to be starting something as exciting and rewarding here (though I don't see that as possible). Incidentally, it was your stupid birthday mix, Bethany, that got me thinking about B-Club. Damn you.
Anyway, I'm really not as mopey as this blog makes me sound. I have callbacks tonight for Henry V and The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail, which gives me the chills in all kinds of ways.
A couple people on my floor have also gotten around to watching my new MUPPET SHOW DVD's (!!!) in the lounge. We just watched the Paul Simon episode, which opens with a Muppet-styol "Scarborough Fair" number which would've made Daniel flip. As for Paul's acting ability, let's just say if he can't look good in front of an early 90's SNL cast, let's not expect too much out of him when he's interacting with talking felt in 1978.
Anyway, in accordance with tradition, I pulled out Elton John's Honky Chateau and The Who's Tommy and the Almost Famous soundtrack to listen to while I sat on my bed doing homework. And about halfway into "Rocket Man" I felt on the verge of tears, because the damn thing made me half-believe that it was October 1st in Alpharetta and I was doing homework on my bed in my own room. I find that my autumn albums are all especially potent because they were all consistently birthday presents that I received on Sept. 24, which happens to be the second day of autumn and my favorite time of year. And so the weight of about 6 Alpharetta autumns just fell onto me, and I thought of going to birthday dinners with my family at Rafter's, and going to Beanie's with John before marching band practice in 9th grade, and then walking across the street to buy a corsage for Homecoming, and being nervous about whoever I was taking as my date, and seeing the trees on the corner of Academy St. and Haynes Bridge just starting to change.
I'm so fucking nostalgic and sentimental that I'm almost a caricature. I swear, I have a career at Hallmark. And I'm really very happy at Chicago, despite the fact that classes are hard like Mr. Caswell's bones are brittle and my distance from Kristen scares me. I love the people and the excitement here. It's just that listening to Elton John is making me wish more than ever that I was back home again.
I really miss all of you, and I don't talk to any of you half as much as I want to. I'm finding that the blogs aren't doing it for me anymore; I need to be more than a passive reader of your lifes' exploits. For some of you, a year ago marked the second or third week in Breakfast Club rehearsal, and I'd like to believe that I'm going to be starting something as exciting and rewarding here (though I don't see that as possible). Incidentally, it was your stupid birthday mix, Bethany, that got me thinking about B-Club. Damn you.
Anyway, I'm really not as mopey as this blog makes me sound. I have callbacks tonight for Henry V and The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail, which gives me the chills in all kinds of ways.
A couple people on my floor have also gotten around to watching my new MUPPET SHOW DVD's (!!!) in the lounge. We just watched the Paul Simon episode, which opens with a Muppet-styol "Scarborough Fair" number which would've made Daniel flip. As for Paul's acting ability, let's just say if he can't look good in front of an early 90's SNL cast, let's not expect too much out of him when he's interacting with talking felt in 1978.
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