The walk seems short despite my solitude. As I walk, my breathing is burdened; the warm summer air sinks to the bottom of my lungs to rest, lazy and leaden. I half-heartedly wonder about my own suffocation. As I enter an empty soccer field plagued with the pale corpses of once green grass, I'm reminded of why I'm walking: my brother, who has a "real job" at a sandwich shop, gets to use the 1989 Ford Tempo we share. But the concession stand is within walking distance, so I don't mind the walk, even when it's [...]
It's hard being in a band during the beginning of winter. Even harder is being in a ska band. What's worse: the van didn't have heat. I had been in the band almost two months, and already pretty confident in my trumpet abilities. The band had some faith in me, especially after the first show I played. It seemed right to be in a ska band at the time, despite our choice to fight the traditional sense of the genre. What didn't seem right was that I couldn't feel my toes. And that I didn't [...]
Winter is quiet. Soundlessly, family and friends descend wooden stairs turned grey from the cold. The men wear long coats over their tuxedos to keep out the cold; the women shiver beneath shawls. I think they're talking. They must be; clouds of air climb from their moving mouths. When the bride tiptoes down the stairs, the hem of her expensive dress crumpled in both fists, these men and women become warmer beneath their coats and shawls; they gasp and sigh and say sweet things as snowflakes start to fall. Still, their compliments are captured [...]
It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust. A dull, red light burrows through the darkness first and, soon, I see its reflection sliding up and down the sides of the enlarging machines that rise like tiny towers from the countertops on which they wait. These machines climb against the white walls, stained red by the room's sole light source. Abandoned prints lie lifeless on a drying rack—overexposed, underexposed, cropped incorrectly, afflicted with white spots or dark corners. Others do the dead man's float in the wash beside it, suspended in the swirling water. I try [...]
My vacation to Tampa was reasonably fulfilling. Everything went without a catch, which was strange for me. I expected something had to come along to make things difficult. After all, using my grandmother's frequent flyer miles was especially convenient. My transfer in Chicago allowed me to not only stay over night at my parents', but also catch the same flight out to Tampa as my dad—in first class! It seemed too easy. In case you think my pessimism is unwarranted, let's flash-forward to the end of the trip. The raging 3PM thunderstorm transformed the bay from [...]
"Kevin, life is funny... so infuriatingly funny." That's what I said a few years ago after a particularly rough bump in my love life. It was one of those things you only see in cheesy TV dramas; the girl likes the guy, the guy is oblivious, the girl moves on, the guy realizes what happens, and then the guy has to win the girl back. Unfortunately, my life doesn't always have happy TV endings. It's not often I move to a new city, less often that I spend an evening flirting with a girl I've never [...]
"Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear. No one comes near." Right now the song "Eleanor Rigby" from The Beatles' 1962-1966 cassette is playing in my tape player. "Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there. What does he care?" I feel like I've been awake for what seems like hours. Side two of the tape is almost over. With this tape, I am prepared for the long nights in Michigan. I know that I won't be able to sleep in that dark, [...]
The irritated autumn sun rises straight ahead of me, as if he resides wherever this road ends. Climbing the cream-colored sky, he stares at me with a blank, blaming face, as if I was the one who roused him; I squint and scramble for my sunglasses. My morning commute takes me westward for eighty minutes, forty of which I spend crawling through construction zones and all of which I spend hiding behind a sun visor, avoiding that star's seething stare. I accept these stressors like an unpleasant pill one must take each morning. I also reluctantly accept [...]
A window on my iBook pops open, but I don't see it. Hunched over my desk, my head rests in my hands; I feel each finger entangled in the exhausted, sweaty strands that hang from my head. My eyelids occasionally open, briefly, before they slowly close again. There, they rest for several seconds until I can convince my muscles to pull them open again. Today was a good day; my students at least tried to write. I've spent three months as East Middle School, my first three months in a classroom as an education major. [...]
There was a time in my life where I felt as if every song I enjoyed was written just for me. I needed that feeling though; it was my first year at college in a city that I wasn't ready to explore quite yet. It was my first time away from the girl I was extremely fond of, and it was the first time I was given the opportunity to really find myself. This independence inspired me to listen to music almost always. I was in love with my high school sweetheart, who was only two hours away. [...]
"It's not quite breakfast, not quite lunch, but it comes with a slice of cantaloupe and you still get a good meal !" I always loved brunch. It's full of opportunity, choices, and individuality. It's the only meal where it is acceptable for you to eat pancakes, your friends to have BLT's, and for all of you to get drunk in the process. The tradition of Sunday brunch came and went a few times during my college years. In fact, I found myself brunching in the dorms, at an apartment, and out at Milwaukee's best brunch [...]
There isn't much between Rock Island, IL, and Iowa City, IA. In fact, along Interstate 80, the only noticeable landmark on that hour-and-something drive is a rather large truck stop. I use the term "rather large" loosely because, you see, the Iowa 80 truck stop is touted as the world's largest...and also "The Place for Chrome." I was on a drive from my home at the time, Augustana College, out to the University of Iowa to see author Khaled Hosseini speak about his book The Kite Runner . My roommate Steve and I read [...]
"Oh come on, light it," my dad pressures me as he smokes his cigarette. I held mine unlit in my hand. I have never been this close to a cigarette in my life and, honestly, I have no idea how to work the thing. My dad and I are on our way to visit my older brother at college. Fifteen minutes ago, we were talking about music, friends, and boys when my dad got the crazy idea. He pulled into the nearest gas station and told me to wait in the car while he went in. When [...]
Like all fathers, my father passed down a very specific, very specialized skill to my brother and I: making mix CDs. My dad made legendary mix tapes fifteen years ago, going as far as transferring his Cheap Trick LPs onto the spinning plastic spools. On one legendary mix, aptly titled "Crusin' Tape", he captured quotes from the earliest Simpsons episodes on his analog cassette recorder to stick between songs. I remind myself of his mastery as he maneuvers his vehicle alongside Lake Superior's saltless shore toward Duluth, Minnesota. We have run out of music and are relying on [...]
I had earned a break, or so I kept telling myself. It was my weeklong break in between finishing my second year of college and starting my first summer internship. So, I went to Kalamazoo, Michigan to stay with a friend. Kelly was from my hometown and, even though we lived 10 miles apart, knew the same people, and even had gone to some of the same shows, it took the Internet to bring us together. Thank you, Make Out Club.com. I arrived at her apartment, met her roommate, met her cat… nothing terribly exciting to [...]
It was the last night at school before Thanksgiving break. I decided to walk to the show so that I didn't have to worry about parking. Walking alone was a nice way to clear my head, too. The Canopy Club was about a mile or two away from my house, so I had plenty of time to reflect. Five years ago, I would have had a dozen friends who wanted to go to this show: Reel Big Fish and Streetlight Manifesto on a Friday night. It dawned on me as I walked out [...]
It's as mysterious as walking out of your apartment and noticing your trunk of your car is open. "Was I that drunk last night?" Black Label has a low alcohol content. "Did I hit it on the button on the way out of the car last night?" No fucking clue, but it's open. Just like that, your legs tense up so much that they start shaking. To cross the street, to get to your automobile, you wait for traffic to cease. You have nothing better to do then stare at that ajar trunk over the tops of speeding cars. [...]
On my nineteenth birthday, I was scheduled to work an eight-hour shift at Einstein Bagels. As fierce hordes of affluent, Lake Forest families bombarded me with their complex and creative bagel orders, I couldn't help but think that I'd rather be anywhere else. I spent my first years of college in plastic gloves, pulling bagels out of baskets and sliding them into an electric slicer. Beneath my khaki-colored hat, I would sweat as I carefully constructed bagel sandwiches, towers of turkey and lettuce and cream cheese that were often retuned uneaten because I put on too many tomatoes. [...]
The Music Store Memoirs is propelled by a community of music lovers and writers. Here are some of the writers that have contributed to this blog. Dane! cats • malls • coffee • silk-screened posters • Triscuits location: Mundelein, IL profession: High School English Teacher five random bands enjoyed by this writer: Ozma, The Descendents, Cougars, Nada Surf, The Blue Meanies [...]
I read an article in the Tribune a few weeks back about music blogs. The idea fascinated me--a community of musicians and music lovers who are sharing their love. I love music, but music, by itself, isn't my obsession; what I love more is talking about it, analyzing it, making sense of it, and sharing it in every imaginable manner. There's something amazing about music. It creeps into psyches and stays indefinitely; it twists itself around our present and becomes a permanent part of our pasts. It becomes imbedded into our minds, our memories, and our souls. [...]
The Music Store Memoirs
Avicii – Two Million
Beck – I Just Started Hating Some People Today
H&M Lookbook Mujer y Hombre Otoño 2012.
Amanda Mair
