the dreaming tree

you see, i was minding my own business, sitting in my car, browsing through my ipod and preparing to leave the parking lot of a bar

when a girl walked to my window and asked if i had a phone, and could she call someone to get her, because her friend (this guy), was acting weird and she didn’t want to be with him, etc.

so i said, ok, here’s my phone.

and she talked to someone; meanwhile, he became agitated

and came up and yelled a little, then went off

then he parked his truck behind me

she asked, hey, can i sit with you while i wait for someone to get me?

i said, yes

so she was sitting there and i was trying to get her to tell me what kind of music she liked so we could listen to something fun on the ipod

but she was like, no, no, just listen to whatever you want, i don’t care

i persisted and she said carrie underwood

whatever

then the guy came back and opened the door and started yelling at her, and then was like, hey man, what are you doing?

what are you doing?

and then he shoved a gun into my face (a silver .38 automatic)

and shouted, hey, what are you doing?

blah blah blah (anger anger anger) (gun-waving) (gun pointed at head)

and then i was holding my ipod and he said, give me that phone, and i hesitated and almost said, but this isn’t a phone, but he grabbed it from me, so i couldn’t

then he saw my phone sitting there and grabbed that

he asked if i had anything else, and i said, here’s my wallet

and that’s all i have

(but that was a lie because i had a bass and my violin, too)

anyway, it took him a minute to be convinced that that was all i had, then he took my driver’s license, saying, if you try anything, i know where you live

i thought that was amusing

then he demanded the girl get out and come with him, so she did, and silently begged me to call someone, but i had to say, i can’t, he took my phone

away he sped

so i went into the bar and called 911 (except i accidentally dialed the 1 three times)

i really don’t have the capacity to write much now, but i wanted to be sure to put a sentence or two that i could come back to later. this is my last night in fayetteville as a college student. i’m done. i’m leaving here 100% done with my degree. i’m also leaving behind some of my most memorable college experiences, the majority of which have happened within the last year and a half. i want to cry and laugh at the same time. i’m excited about where i’ll meet these people again. i’m planning to meet up with one of my closest fayetteville friends in argentina a few months from now. hopefully i’ll see a couple of the others along the way. and the adventure will be grand. but as for now, this moment is enveloping me.

and this is the line that is ringing in my ears:

27 years of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn’t keep

that’s from a ryan adams song, if you don’t know (“let it ride”). i’ve been waiting till i turned 27 so i could use it for another fun-filled blog post. pretty sad, i know, but if you know me at all, then you know that i am sad. i don’t want to write another depressive post about how i’m a failure and my life is worthless, but i’m struggling to come up with something more traditionally fitting to the occasion of my birth. maybe later. maybe never.

i finished a book the other night, which was very satisfying. the book was the time traveler’s wife, by audrey niffenegger, and it was an immensely beautiful and moving book. here is a brief summary:

It is an unconventional love story that centers on a man with a strange genetic disorder that causes him to unpredictably time-travel and his wife, an artist, who has to cope with his frequent absences and dangerous experiences.

some of my favorite books appear to be love stories. maybe i’m a lost romantic. i just bought another book that happens to be a love story. it’s called how to kill a rockstar, by tiffanie debartolo. the reason i bought it is kinda bizarre, so i’ll tell you that real quick.

i was on the way home from texas, where i was visiting family for christmas, and, as tends to happen when i drive, lots of thoughts work their way through my head, prodding and poking at my imagination. i was wondering how many of my so-called original thoughts were not original at all. i’m not really talking about thoughts that were disseminated from other sources, or that i can at least trace to a couple of places for the inspiration. i mean just random things that i came up with out of the blue. the reason i thought this was because i was trying to think of clever titles for, say, an album or something. one that i came up with was dreams for insomniacs. and then i had the aforementioned rumination on originality.

fast-forward to that night at the bookstore. the title how to kill a rockstar catches my attention, so i take it off the shelf to peruse. i glance at the author’s bio and read:

tiffanie debartolo is the author of god-shaped hole, a san francisco chronicle bestseller and book sense top 10 selection. she also wrote the feature film dream for an insomniac.

i mean, i almost dropped the book. and then i started laughing (i caught myself from becoming too loud). i pretty much immediately decided i had to buy the book. haven’t started reading it yet, but at least there’s an interesting story for you.

i came here to write about the time traveler’s wife, but i’m not sure i know what i want to say. it was a really well-done book, and i was captivated with the characters. i found myself able to relate to the main character, henry, in a profound way…i think. i’m actually not too sure how exactly i related to him, but there seemed to be a very real connection there, and one that i was not too keen of letting go of as the novel neared its conclusion. i’m certainly going to have to read it again in hopes of finding more clues about that strange association i had with henry.

a large part of it no doubt has to do with the struggle i’ve had lately to really latch on to notions of love and relationship. i’ve found myself in a constant, questioning struggle to really define what it means to be in a loving relationship. i think the real issue, actually, is that i’m not entirely sure i’ll ever be able to handle a relationship like marriage. i work in a place where i encounter brokenness in marriage everyday, mostly from people i’ve never met and never will meet. all i have are these brief nuggets, snapshots from marriage, the majority of which seem to have major troubles. i don’t know that i do well with major troubles.

i came close once to committing my entire life to one girl, and that crashed and was very painful. it still is very painful. i’m not sure how much healing has taken place, or how much healing will take place in coming years. i continue to try to move on, hope another girl will come to take her place, but so far, no one has. i think that would be ok, but more of a concern, i think, is the way my brain has handled opportunities to move on. sometimes i have a sense that my sub-conscious is quietly sabotaging relationships, perhaps trying to protect me from being hurt again. (i’m not sure how accurate a statement like that can be, referring to my sub-conscious. after all, if it’s sub-conscious, how would i know about it?)

i think i am on the verge of writing a lot more than i intended with this, so i’m going to stop spewing forth these sad thoughts.

but i can’t quit thinking them.

so i was hanging out with my friend heather last night, eating dinner at her apartment, when i decided to take a bite of chicken that ended up being a little bigger than manageable. as i was trying to swallow this piece, i began having a little trouble with it, so i decided to drink some water. well, the water wouldn’t go down because my throat was clogged, so that, i think, triggered my gag reflex and i spit up all the water. and that’s when i realized i couldn’t breathe. i also decided at that moment that i might need the heimlich maneuver, so i stood up and turned my back to heather (that sounds more straightforward and undramatic than it actually was, because, well, i was choking, but it was how i was thinking) so she could administer the manuever. i guess until then she still wasn’t sure that i was choking, so she asked me, rather frantically, are you choking? i nodded emphatically yes, then wondered if i needed to do the whole international sign for choking, but she understood, so i didn’t have to. so she climbed up on a chair, because i’m about 15 inches taller than her, and did the heimlich for what seemed like a minute or something, but it still wouldn’t come out. then i realized i was still holding my plate, at which point i just walked away from her and set it down, cause i didn’t want to spill the food everywhere. then i came back so she could keep going. i was really hoping to see a large bit of food fly across the room, but instead it just sort of worked its way down, i guess. felt like it took a few minutes, but i really don’t know. it was pretty exhilirating experience, though. i think i freaked her out more than i got freaked out. and she’s a nurse. but she saved my life, so thank God for her and her nursing skills. and also thank God for heimlich and his maneuver-designing skills.

a few weeks ago, i drove down to dallas to see ryan adams and the cardinals with michael, zach, caleb, daniel and scott. and also 1500 other people who i don’t really know.

michael and i arrived at the venue, which was on SMU’s campus, around 8:00. zach, caleb and daniel got there around the same time. scott didn’t arrive until 9:00 or so. read about his adventure on his blog. it was in a very nice old auditorium, and i think it was a pretty great venue for the show. taking our seats, we were pretty stoked about the upcoming madness. with no idea what exactly to expect, we were quite excited about the possibilities, while at the same time weary of adams’ reputation for having mid-show meltdowns. as we would soon experience, basically the entire crowd had the same thought and treaded softly between songs. and i think the band, and more importantly ryan adams, responded to the audience in a pretty positive way. and by positive, i mean playing one of the best shows i’ve ever experienced. the reason i have not written this post until now is because i didn’t feel like i could offer a truly accurate depiction of my experience. so this is basically just storytelling. in fact, if you so desire, you can listen to the concert streaming on archive.org. pretty good quality, too.

i guess what i can tell you is that i don’t remember the last concert i attended that absolutely screamed at me, “you have to do this…you have to make music!” that was the biggest thing i walked away with, a pressing need to produce the kind and quality of music i heard at SMU that night. i walked away feeling jealous, while at the same time awed, of the masterful work the band had done on stage. while some may be intimidated by an artist of that magnitude, it only makes me want to drop everything and work to get to that level. as michael declared, “emergency rehearsal!”

after the show we drove around hoping to find some beer. unfortunately, texas sucks and there is no beer sold after 12:00. so we journeyed a little more to find an open bar near my grandmother’s house, where we would be staying, and ate some dinner and drank some beer. on the way out, michael and i decided to do some tequila shots. so we went to the bar and stood there while the bartender was talking to a friend or something, with his back turned to us. no problem, i can wait a minute or two…until he turned, saw us, and then turned back around, making no motion to indicate he’d be with us in a moment. then he did the same thing a second time. that irked me, so i rattled an ashtray on the bar just a little bit, just to let him know i did, in fact, want to order something. he responded by walking over and calling us dics, and telling us that he was going to be a dic to us. i was like, look, i just want some tequila, do you think you can do that? so he gave us our stuff, but wouldn’t look at us while angrily counting out change on the counter. it was ridiculous, but i still gave him a dollar tip.

once at my grandmother’s house, which i love visiting and showing to new people, we stood outside, marvelling at what we had seen that night. he played a pretty intense set, which included favorites like “wonderwall,” “come pick me up,” “let it ride,” “o my sweet carolina,” “the sun also sets,” and a startling rendition of “i see monsters,” which almost sounded like a grateful dead song. we also had some great conversation about music in general, and i think politics or something, too, which was weird. all-in-all, it was such a fantastic experience. one day i hope to help create something just as amazing for someone else.

maybe it’s a rainy day. maybe it’s less sleep. maybe it’s the job. maybe it’s life in general. maybe it’s girls. maybe it’s me.

i only write on this stupid thing when i’m at the either end of the emotional spectrum. only elation or depression can prompt me to type a few words. right now it’s depression. i don’t feel better. my mind is blank. whatever.

so last friday father maple (my band) played at wild river country (a water park) for a citywide youth group-type event of some sort. of course i was super excited about playing in the water and on the slides for free. and so there i was, feeling pretty confident because, well, i was one of the attending rockstars, which always feels great. i was waiting in line for one of the slides and there was a high school kid next to me. a little ways down the line was a group of high school girls who, upon seeing this guy, all waved and did that high school girl thing. now i’m pretty sure this guy was not one of the recognized awesome cool guys at school. he was a little overweight, pretty reserved…all that kind of thing, but still a cool guy. our conversation was as follows:

david: dude, that’s awesome, girls never waved to me like that in high school.

chris (the kid): yeah, well, it’s nothing special…they always do that when they see me.

david: but still, they’re waving at you and being glad to see you…would you rather them not?

chris: i don’t know…

david: maybe it’d be more special if they gave you a hug or a kiss or something…

chris: yeah, especially the one in the black…

david: (high five) alright, man, you need to start talking to her!

chris: yeah, i asked her if she wanted to hang out sometime, and she said sure, but i didn’t say when…

david: (interrupting) DUDE! you have to tell her when!

chris: well, the next time i did…i said, do you want to do something on tuesday. she couldn’t, but she told me to ask her again the next day, but when i did, she said she was sick, so i haven’t asked her since then…

(at this point he is kind of dejected)

david: ok, dude, listen…she told you to ask her again, not to get away from her. you have to keep after her. ask her again…she wants to know that you care enough. you have to pay attention to all her little hints…she’s not going to come right out and tell you she likes you, that’s not how they roll. you’re going to regret it if you don’t get a definitive answer from her…you just have to be confident.

chris: yeah, that makes sense.

david: in fact, my band is about to play…go ask her to dance, she’ll love that.

chris: maybe…

david: ok dude, good luck…wwhhhheeeeee!! (because at that point it was my turn to slide down the slide)

anyway…i thought it was hilarious that i offered any kind of girl advice/encouragement to him, because i was totally the shy reserved guy until about two months ago. and that’s that story.

http://dmiessler.com/blogarchive/the-nice-guy-paradox-solved

this is a pretty interesting take on nice guys’ frustrations with girls, something that i’ve been thinking about and trying to deal with a lot recently…read it and see what you think. i might have some comments of my own later.

i recently watched almost famous (the director’s cut, which is really fantastic). i think one of my favorite quotes, from a movie full of good ones, is the following, spoken by lester bangs (played by the always brilliant philip seymour hoffman):

“the only true currency in this bankrupt world… is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.”

i’m pretty much always uncool. but i try to act like i am, which probably completely negates that true currency thing. i think the only times i feel like i’m not completely bullshitting everyone around me is when music is involved. and even then i feel like i put on a front, consistently doing my best to shroud shortcomings until i feel safe enough to fully expose what i consider to be the most privileged information about myself. but at the same time, i treat that shroud as something that can allow a little light inside, revealing shadows of what is beneath. i dangle carrots, hoping they’ll be pursued and i can talk about myself, reveal myself fully to another human, longing to make a connection that is deeper than the idle words we speak. i want to be cool…or do i want to remain uncool? i want them to know that i’m not trying to impress them, i’m not trying to win them over anymore. i merely want them to grapple with my uncoolness–and then decide they’re not too cool to stay with me for a little while. maybe a long while. of course, this is what everyone wants, and what everyone finds so difficult to truly grasp.