is it september yet?

dear j j

you rock my world.

p.s. i hate you.

love
sara.

sorry, glenn

concert-going is a unique hobby. most people choose where and when and for how long they will participate in their extra-curriculars. but with concert-going you go where and when and for how long pollstar tells you to. most of the time sarah and i are more than willing to make the necessary sacrifices that our hobby of choice requires. sleep deprivation, extra mileage on our vehicles, not to mention the strain on our budgets. it's all worth it in the end. but there are those rare times when this hobby can feel more like a burden than a release.

last night we had tickets to see glenn hansard, lead singer of the frames, play an acoustic set at martyr's pub in downtown chicago. there is no doubt about it, this would have been an excellent show. the frames have become on of our favorite bands over the past year and glenn's stage presence is both commanding and endearing. hearing him play acoustic versions of this band's powerful rock songs would have been a treat, indeed. would have been...

we decided not to go to the concert last night. various factors contributed to this good, albeit difficult, decision. the tickets were non-refundable, so glenn got our financial support even without our physical displays of admiration at the show. and we both got a decent night's sleep instead of the short 3 hours we would have been promised had we made the journey to the windy city.

i don't ever want to resent the things that i love. last night we just weren't feeling it. and sometimes you just have to make the call. the call to get off the highway, turn around and go back home. or, in our case, get off the highway, go to rivertown crossings mall and buy stuff on sale at the gap.

LSI Financial 5-20-05 

saabwatch 2005

when i was in elementary school my parents bought a maroon saab 900. this was during my dad's buyandsellanewusedcareveryweek phase. we never knew what was going to be in the garage from one day to the next. but this car i fell in love with immediately. and i was hoping that unlike it's predecessors, this one would stick around.

in fifth grade our class went on a 2-day excursion to camp tall turf with our favorite teacher mr. hoo. after braving the swamp walk and haunted cabin folklore, we were rewarded on the second day by a trip up from our parents. since my parents never missed an opportunity to be involved in their children's education, they drove up bright and early. it was around the picnic table of doom that they told me of the most recent casualty of the dekoster used car lot. the saab. had been sold. but not only that. it had been replaced with the most detestable of all family vehicles. a minivan. and i didn't even get to say good-bye.

well, needless to say, i never fully recovered and i held that minivan in contempt for as long as we kept it. thankfully, my dad appreciates the value of a good used saab 900 as much as i do and we eventually came to own a couple more. one of which i would go on to drive from my 16th birthday until i graduated from college. his name was bing. may he rest in peace.

. . .

i first saw my dreamsaab in the parking lot after a whitecaps game in high school. there it was. in all its yellow convertible glory. i'd never seen its equal. turns out, there were very few of these cars even produced back in the mid-nineties. and there is only one in grand rapids. i've been stalking its owner for as long as i can remember. and now, i've decided, with the help of my trusty camera phone, to start saabwatch 2005 right here on this blog. aren't you excited? well, i am. and that's really all that matters here at saradk23.blogspot.com.

the decemberists concert

how can you not be in love with a band made up of phd's with instruments that includes an accordian player and writes lyrics like three volume novels and lists this bio on their website and during their concerts gives the audience a cue to howl like they're being eaten alive by a giant whale in order to augment the climax of their epic song about a lonley mariner seeking revenge on the man who destroyed his mother's life and also don't you hate it when you go to a concert/club/bar and they write on your hand with permanant marker?

star wars episode III: a haiku

we played hookie
to see wookiees and vader transformed
research is fun

practice makes better.

there was a time in the not-so-distant past when i fancied myself a writer. after graduating from calvin and subsequently acquiring my first real job, i decided to invest the first fruits of my labor in a new laptop. i had planned to put this pricey asset to use by writing screenplays and articles and poems and short stories in my spare time. i had the best of intentions. but i soon learned that when you spend your entire workday staring at a computer screen, the last thing you want to do when you get home is stare at one some more. and so my lonely laptop sits submissively on my desk every day while my writing skills diminish in spite of it. [and no thanks to the style of composition i must observe at my job.]

that is part of why i started this blog. for practice. and so i could have a more formal and somewhat official place to publish my leisure writing, heretofore contained only in my yahoo mail outbox.

i realize, however, that some of my posts [while dexterously composed] might not be all that entertaining for the general public [sarah koeze] to read. and since i also fancy myself an entertainer, i would like to commit to confining the remainder of my posts this week to one sentence apiece. starting now.

(sigh)

right now in michigan we are experiencing a rather long bout of what i like to call sweatshirt weather. sweatshirt weather is different from just cold weather. cold weather happens during the 9 months in michigan when the trees are bare and the sun is absent and the roads are slippery. sweatshirt weather occurs during those other 3 months. the months when it's [usually] warm. the trees are green, the pavement is dry, the sun may even be shining, but there's just a bit of chill in the air. the perfect amount of chill that only a soft hooded sweatshirt with a kangaroo pocket can counter. i love it.

sweatshirts are like comfort food for me. they make me feel home-y and cozy and content. thinking about sweatshirt weather has inspired me to make a list of other things that bring this kind of comfort to my life.

and here it is.

comfort smell: motor oil and any other kind of car grease. my dad is a mechanic/teacher of mechanics. when i was younger he would always come home from a hard days work smelling like an old car. his finger nails were eternally black and every evening he'd spend several minutes at the sink with a hefty bar of industrial strength soap trying to get them clean enough to make us dinner. i love eating at the schnitz deli on fulton because often the mechanics from the body shop across the street will come in there for lunch. they smell like my dad.

comfort music: the dave matthews band. i store this band's albums on my shelf and their music in my soul. there's so little time and so much music to listen to in the world that the DMB doesn't even get that much actual play time in my day anymore. but if there's ever been a band that could literally "cure" what ailed me it would be this one. put one of their cds on and instantly my cares melt away and a smile covers my face.

comfort food: kraft american cheese slices. individually wrapped goodness. they melt the best on a grilled cheese sandwich. they taste the best with oscar mayer bologna. they are shaped in a perfect square. they may or may not be made of real cheese.

comfort shoes: birkenstock sandals. there's nothing quite like slipping your bare feet into a pair of broken in worn out old birks at the end of a long cold [9 month] winter in michigan.

comfort movie: the princess bride. say it with me... "hello, my name is inigo montoya. you killed my father. prepare to die." movies don't really get any better than this one. it's wuvvvv, twooo wuvvv.

comfort car: saab 900. i made a promise to myself when i was in 5th grade that as soon as i was old enough to drive i would vow to only drive saabs for the rest of my natural life. they smell different and drive different and look different than any other car on the market. plus, people who own them wave to each other on the roads. it's like a club. only we'd never be so lame as to make up stickers that pronounce "it's a saab thing, you wouldn't understand." saab owners are not pretentious. they're too laid back.

comfort place: grand haven state park. playing racko inside my parents' trailer [read: portable beachfront condo.] curling up on the couch after a long day on the sunny beach. walking into town for ice cream at temptations. flying kites while the sun sets behind the pier. watching the huge boats go in and out of the channel. hoping the showers with the good water pressure are open when you need one. roasting marshmallows by the campfire at night under the stars.

. . .

wow, i've never been more depressed to be sitting in this office than i am right now. i don't even think i can go on listing things. this post is over. but rest assured i'll be spending the rest of my day dreaming about wearing a hooded sweatshirt and birkenstock sandals while sitting in my parent's trailer in grand haven state park watching the princess bride on dvd and eating a bologna and cheese sandwich next to my dad who'd just come from fixing my broke down saab.

pinot

i finally saw the movie sideways on saturday night. i'll avoid going into great detail and just say. there were parts i appreciated. and there were parts that i didn't appreciate. but there was one particular scene that i think is worth noting here.

about halfway through the film two of the main characters, miles (paul giamatti) and maya (virginia madsen), sit on a porch and discuss why they love wine. both of their monologues on the subject were beautifully written and expertly performed.

listening to people articulate their passions like this is intoxicating. at first glance, one might wonder why a woman like maya would be attracted to a man like miles. this is why.

"it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. right? it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. it's not a survivor like cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and thrive even when it's neglected. no, pinot needs constant care and attention. you know? and, in fact, it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. and only the most patient and nurturing growers can do it, really. only somebody who really takes the time to understand pinot's potential can coax it into its fullest expression. then, i mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet."

i don't care much for wine and i certainly don't know anything about it, but after listening to miles express his admiration for pinot, i had this strange desire to sell all of my possessions and move to a vineyard in northern california. the truth is, it didn't really matter what he was talking about. these two characters could have had the same kind of conversation about almost anything: art, music, film, sports... it's not the subject, but the passion for it that infects and then becomes contagious.

maya follows the above quote with an equally beautiful elucidation of the life of a bottle of wine. how it grows and gains complexity and eventually reaches its peak before it begins its inevitable decline. she pauses briefly as miles contemplates this and then utters perhaps the most poignant and earnest statement in the entire film.

"and it tastes so f***ing good."

i think it's important for people to be able to explain and defend the things they choose to put their time and energy into. but even the most passionate expositions will almost always boil down to one undeniable declaration: it's just... good.

standard mix tape rules apply.

one of my most favorite things to do in all the world is make a mix cd. in fact, i think i would be completely content if that was my only job for the rest of my life.

i remember as a kid, sitting in my room after school, making mix tapes from the radio. kids these days don't know how good they have it with the internet. back then, if we wanted to hear a new song, we couldn't just download it, we had to call our local top 40 radio station and request it. but even then there was no guarantee, and we'd have to sit and wait to see if the dj on duty would ever get around to playing it. and we waited patiently, too. i remember sitting on my bedroom floor waiting for hours. every time a song would near it's completion, i'd get my hand on the buttons, ready to hit play/record simultaneously in case my song was next. we had to work for our music. but when the sweet sounds of the song you loved finally hit the airwaves, you never regretted the hours you spent waiting for it. it saddens me that young people today don't understand the agony and resulting joy of that experience. music should never be taken for granted.

making a mix cd is a task i take very seriously. a mix cd is more than just a collection of random songs. it is an experience. it is a piece of art. and there are rules that simply must be followed.

the "golden rule" in mix cd making is this: no artist may be featured more than once on a single mix cd. there are very few exceptions to this rule. in fact, i hesitate to say that there are any exceptions whatsoever. putting multiple songs by the same artist on one cd begs the question, why not just listen to an entire cd of that artist? if the purpose of the mix cd in question is to introduce its recipient to a new artist thereby encouraging the recipient to purchase said new artist's album, then an argument could be made for including more than one song by that artist on the cd. however, i would argue that you are no longer making a mix cd then, you are making a sampler cd. those are two very different things. and even in the making of a sampler cd, certain rules should be adhered to in order to enhance the listener's enjoyment. for example, picking a few artists who's music complements each other and spacing them out evenly on the cd so that there are never multiple songs in a row by the same artist.

a mix cd should have a theme. it could be a complex theme like, music to listen to while lying comatose on the floor in a dark room. or it could be something as simple as, music for my road trip this weekend. a theme helps give the mix cd its shape and style and determines what it will communicate to its listener. i've had not a few people challenge my "golden rule" on this front. they want to allow for multiple songs by the same artist as long as those songs follow the theme of the mix cd. to those people i say, expand your horizons please. certainly with all the songs in the universe at your disposal, you can find another artist besides the counting crows who's music communicates melancholy and heartache.

i agree with john cusack's character in the movie high fidelity when he says, "you gotta start off with a bang, something to grab their attention. then you gotta take it up a notch. but then you gotta take it back down a notch, cuz you don't want to blow your wad." i like my mix cd's to follow a similar path that an artist might follow in creating an LP. you want a mix cd to ebb and flow like any other cd. so you might make a punk rock mix. and you can fill the cd with only punk rock artists. but you don't want every song to have the same amount of punk rock energy. you want to take the listener on a journey. just when they get comfortable, you want to hit them with something unexpected.

i like to finish off a mix cd in a similar way a band might finish off a concert. there's a final song that leaves the listener satisfied, but wanting more. and then there's the encore. something not entirely unrelated to the theme of the cd, but slightly different. a bonus track, if you will. perhaps a live track or a rare b-side by a popular artist. maybe a unique cover of a well-known tune. maybe even a guilty pleasure by some otherwise obnoxious pop group.

finally, there's the packaging. i take this step almost as seriously as choosing the music for the cd. if possible, give the mix cd a title. list the tracks so that the recipient knows what he/she is listening to. some people do judge a book by its cover. you want to make a good first impression so that all the time you spent selecting each song wasn't in vain.

there's much more i could say on this topic to be sure, but to reveal more would be like giving away a secret family recipe. my dad had this mix tape that we would listen to when i was growing up. it contained everything from the righteous brothers to madonna to billy joel. and yet it all somehow made sense together. the first song on side B of the tape was a one hit wonder by the band mungo jerry called "in the summertime." my dad loved that song and had been wanting a copy of it for a long time to play for us kids. one day he called in and requested it from our local oldies station. we waited and listened and eventually they not only played the song for us, they even played a recording of my dad's phone call to go along with it! man, those were the days...

me

it was all yellow.

let me tell you a story about the time gwyneth paltrow and i saw a coldplay concert in my living room.

the atmosphere was alive as we arrived at the metro for the live music event of the season. a cubs game had just let out at wrigley field. everywhere, excited people filled the streets enjoying the warmth and the extended spring daylight hours. walking into the venue we felt like movie stars at a red carpet premiere as desperate onlookers crowded around hoping to catch some of the excitement wafting off those of us lucky enough to have tickets. the show was set to begin at 7:00. maybe it was because the metro is so small that there was no possible way anyone could stand farther than 25 feet from chris martin's piano. maybe it was because there was no opening act to buffer our anticipation. maybe it was because the show started over an hour late. but the emotions in the crowd were palpable. and when queen gwyneth finally sat down in the VIP section of the balcony, we knew it was go time.

trying to contain the energy and power of a band like coldplay in a venue as small as the metro is like trying to fit a watermelon in a ziplock baggie. i was worried the whole place might just explode from the wonder of it all. because the tickets sold out in less than 60 seconds, the whole crowd was filled with people who loved coldplay enough to either make the effort to be first in line at a ticketmaster outlet or pay 500 bucks per ticket on ebay. everyone listened attentively to the new songs and went completely crazy during the more familiar tunes. chris was his usual effervescent self as he jumped around the stage and hurled the mic out into the crowd encouraging us to sing along. packed in like sardines, sweat dripping off our faces, beer spilled all over our feet. it was perfect. even chris thought so. he told us.

more on gwyneth...
i love gwyneth paltrow. and i was hoping that she would be there. just because it makes the story that much more exciting to tell. when she first sat down she just sort of set her face in her hands and gazed down at the stage, nonverbally communicating perhaps the understatement of the century, "oh there's my husband playing his piano, isn't he dreamy?" i'd hate her if i didn't think she was so cool. but, you know, we all sway our bodies to the music one beat at a time. the only difference between me and gwyneth paltrow (besides her beauty and talent and awards and cash flow and all that) is that, at the end of the show, she gets to go home with the lead singer. so. ok. she wins.

say it ain't so

i have been an avid concert goer for about ten years now. it all started on a snowy day in march when my friends caravanned to kalamazoo in our broke down cars in the middle of an ice storm to see alanis morissette. it only took a couple 'you oughta knows' and some energetic dancing and hair flipping and we were officially hooked on the live music experience. in the years following and thanks to the welcome addition of grand rapids' new sports arena we managed to see most of the big names of the late nineties. bush, no doubt, smashing pumpkins, live, oasis, the verve pipe....etc. for some reason, however, despite the fact that their self-titled 'blue album' was mandatory listening for almost all of my peers at the time, we never got around to attending a weezer concert.

sarah koeze (my concert partner in crime) and i have been lamenting recently that we're starting to feel a little 'old' at concerts these days. we've become content to stand near the back of the venue and just observe the experience as it unfolds in front of us. we breathe a sigh of relief when an event starts early to adhere to city curfew regulations. we complain that our backs hurt from standing for more than 20 minutes in the same spot and we admonish enthusiastic teens who want to get up and dance instead of remaining still in their assigned seats. we start yawning before the opening band has even completed their set and we struggle to keep our eyes open on the late night road trips home. we complain about parking costs as we drive around in a green ford taurus and wonder when it was that we stopped being cool and started becoming a bit too much like soccer moms.

on the way to the concert last night i was speculating about weezer's setlist. after the 'blue album' i lost touch with most of the band's studio work and am now familiar with only their few radio singles. like the kind of fan i usually despise, i secretly hoped that they'd just play a set of greatest hits so i wouldn't feel out of the loop.

ask and ye shall receive.

the minute the giant lighted trademark 'W' fell from the ceiling and they started up with the beginning chords of 'in the garage' sarah and i felt ten years younger. we re-lived our youth as we sung along with rivers' quirky and heartfelt lyrics. we felt as if we had been suddenly and momentarily transported back to a time when we waited in line for hours to get a spot near the front of the stage. a time when we would camp out for days in the freezing cold to get tickets. a time when we would buy a t-shirt at every show we went to. a time when we watched endless crowd surfers get passed up to the security guards and too many people pass out from lack of water and oxygen in the mosh pit. a time when we would live for that moment when the band turned on the house lights and let the crowd sing out the most famous lyric. a time when we tried to make friends with anyone who looked official enough to get us backstage. a time when we not only expected but looked forward to losing our voices from screaming so loud for the encore. a time when we wouldn't complain about returning home with the scent of smoke in our hair and beer spilled on our clothes by some overly intoxicated frat boys.

a time when we were cool.

oh yeah.
all right.
feels good.
inside.

grandpa dk 

i love smokestacks.

that is my grandpa. my dad's dad. this is a picture of him on his 90th birthday which he celebrated a little over a week ago. it was a big to-do for our family. we flew in cousins and uncles from around the country. and we had a nice family dinner at egypt valley country club.

my grandpa is a scholar. he owns about seventeen bijillion books. i know this because once he paid me to dust them all. it took me 5 days. he and my grandma have bookshelves on every wall of their home. even in the bathroom. it's quite impressive.

my grandpa is wise, funny, generous, and the most opinionated man you're likely to meet. turns out, i've acquired quite a few character traits from him. (i know what you're thinking. being opinionated is not one of them. it's not. stop laughing. ahem.) for example, we both squish our faces up the same way when we encounter something we don't like very much. he always reminds me of how, when i was about two years old, i had already begun displaying my distaste for insects. apparently, if i saw one, i would stop dead in my tracks, squish my face up and point at it and just grumble "buuuug." you really have to hear my grandpa's impression. i don't remember doing it myself, but i have a feeling he's got it right on the nose.

as it turns out, there is another extremely odd characteristic that my grandpa and i have in common. i've always had this very strange attraction to smokestacks. i'm not sure why, i just think they are very cool. gary, indiana. is like my mecca. well, oftentimes when my extended family gets together, my dad and his siblings will reminisce about family vacations my grandparents took them on when they were young. and not long ago they were chatting about this one particular trip out west. apparently, on this trip, my grandpa took rolls and rolls of pictures... of smokestacks! i couldn't even believe it. he actually made them drive out of their way to do this. loving smokestacks is part of my genetic makeup. awesome.

someday i would also like to do a cross-country photo documentary of smokestacks. i wonder how my pictures would compare to his.

daydreaming on the world wide web

there are altogether too many cool things on the internet. in fact, it's almost ridiculous that anyone could be expected to be productive at all at a job where the internet is not only accessible, but a necessary tool for completing work assignments.

do you ever catch yourself in a daydream somewhere thinking about something completely random and then try to retrace your mental steps to figure out exactly how you arrived there? i do this all the time. it's fascinating to me how the brain works in that way. the internet is kind of like this. i will begin, for example, on BBCi trying to find an idea for a script and end up buying concert tickets for a new band i'd never heard of until a couple of links before.

speaking of concert tickets. i'm in possession of quite a few at the moment. just this week, sarah and i will be attending a weezer/ringside concert in chicago on wednesday evening, an aqualung show in detroit on thursday evening, and then back to chicago for the live music event of the millennium on friday when we will experience coldplay at the smallest venue in which they've ever played. those tickets, incidentally, are worth a pretty penny. actually, according to ebay they're worth about fifty thousand pretty pennies. thanks to kristina at d&w, though, we only had to pay about 3000. (still pennies. but, pretty ones.)