2005-01-05
I've been hearing the word "no" more often than I'd like to lately.ME: "Rockwood School District, would you please fix my paycheck error that you caused so that I might pay my rent on time this month?"
ROCKWOOD SCHOOL DISTRICT: "No."ME: "Hey friends, are you back in St. Louis from Christmas break yet?"
FRIENDS: "No."ME: "Lord, please put an end to the rain that is simultaneously flooding our streets and our souls. Amen."
GOD: "No."ME: "Please?"
THE WORLD: "No."
But oh, that rain. New Year's Day, we all rose fresh at the crack of noon and looked outside to see the good Lord taking his "good-morning." And what a good-morning it was. It hasn't stopped since then. Must've been quite a New Year's, eh God?
So take the rain and toss it on top of the no's, and toss that on top of the money problems, the end of New Year's weekend, the end of the holidays, the unfinished business, and the stuff I just plain old don't feel like talking about. Give it a half-assed stir and you, kids, have got a classic recipe for a bender.
What, you may ask, is a bender?
Well, Dictionary.com calls a bender a spree - more specifically a drinking spree. But I didn't like that definition seeing as I had no alcohol and still wanted to tell people that I was on a bender. So Char's boyfriend, Mike, offered a more inclusive, egalitarian definition - something the under-21 crowd can get in on. He called it simply, "giving into vice."
(SIDENOTE: Char just came in and looked over my shoulder as I was writing this. She said, "I'm almost bendering today, but I'm sick so I have an excuse.")
So I've given into vice. After I dropped Kelly off at the train station and Leigh hit the road for KC, I changed into my flannel pants and my "CO-ED NAKED: PEACEKEEPING BOSNIA" t-shirt. This has been my bender Class A for the last three days. I have only taken it off once to put on normal clothes and go get a job application for Weber's, a neighborhood bar and grill. But after I took care of the business of my impending employment, it was back to Flanneltown, USA.
I've been spending hours in front of the TV, been profoundly anti-social, catching up on the early high school pleasures of "Goldeneye" on Nintendo 64, scrounging for food around the place, and other such stuffs not becoming of a college graduate.
But I've been nursing my way back to civilization by finding little ways around the house to take control. Truthfully, one of the most unexpectedly therapeutic exercises of my free will has been customizing my personal Launchcast station on Yahoo! music. I can't believe that I've lived as long as I had without knowing about this until a few weeks ago. You say what artists you like, they play you those artists and songs that you should like, based on your artist selections. Along the way, you rate songs and albums to refine the quality of your station.
The ratings system is what really has me hooked, though. Songs, artists, and albums can be rated thusly: from five stars ("Can't Get Enough") to my favorite: NO stars ("Never Play Again.."). I like nothing more than the no-star rating. For now it is Andy's turn to say NO. I'm no longer a slave to FM radio, being forced to retune the dial every time a song is played that displeases me. Oh no. Now I am the motherfucking program director.
Linkin Park? No! Kelis? To the curb you go! Maroon 5? Get out of this HOOUUUSE!
Mario Winans? ALL! ARE! BANISH-ED!
I even called my roommates into the room so they could see me put a pox on the house of No Doubt. What a damn rush. And now I'm left with a nearly perfect mix of Ryan Adams, Jill Scott, Lyle Lovette, The Black Crowes, Damien Rice, Bruce Springsteen, John Mayer, Pink Floyd, Maxwell, Dave Matthews, and Lucinda Williams.
Give it a half-assed stir and you, kids, have got a classic recipe for relief. Or at least a healthy step in that direction.
-Andy