The Story Of My Fucking Life


Posted by ilbebe on April 10, 2012

So I went and saw Jeff Mangum last night. It was about as pleasant a concert experience as I ever could have imagined, and I had a natural ball. The audience (mostly white. men bearded and flannel wearing. women very, very cute. everyone singing along. okay. maybe not everyone. but most. some fist pumping unironically. beautiful. my kind of crowd. come back soon Jeff!) was preternaturally well-behaved. I wonder if it’s because, like myself, everyone there was just amazed they were actually getting to see their favorite musician. I am not talking out of my ass when I state that LOTS of people LOVE Neutral Milk Hotel and the music of Jeff Mangum and Co. Maybe not billions, maybe not even a million, but damn plenty enough to sell out the Fox two night in a row. (That’s right! You’re playing again tonight! Maybe I’ll head downtown and see if I can weasel my way into round two…) The vibe in the room was among the most positive I’ve been involved in. Everyone was smiling. Jeff was smiling. And he killed it. I fucking love that guy. Maybe he’ll be out on OG Plaza around quitting time this afternoon. It’s raining…

This morning started about two hours ago for me. I woke up dreaming about Anne Frank (for reasons which should be obvious to the informed reader; but to clarify for NeoAmericaphiles, Jeff Mangum writes songs about Anne Frank and they are fucking amazing. Check em out! That’s an order. I can’t tell you what to do. Anne Frank is alive in the warm edge of the blanket closest to your eyes in the morning. Anne Frank is alive in quality coffee. I cannot possibly tell you what In The Aeroplane Over The Sea means to me. May it suffice to say that I just simply wouldn’t be the same person I am if that album didn’t exist or I never heard it for the first time on a rainy night in November 2000. The eleventh if I’m not mistaken. KV Day. Interesting. Stephanie put on Two-Headed Boy at a party at JennyChristinaMaryDiana’s house. ((Other people had more unkind nicknames for their place, but I’m making  a concerted effort these days not to waste anyone’s time being petty. Seriously. If you don’t like someone or something, go for the throat or let it go. It makes sense if you think about it)) Thanks, Stephanie! Love ya. See ya soon, probably the Tenth of May! ((Exactly one month?? How strange I should be thinking about such a topic, or that we are anything at all…) Coming in on the 51 Cardinal Westbound, gets in downtown around ten AM or so. I’ll call you before then.

Now, thinking about all my good old friends, and listening to Tigermilk, I gotta ruminate on the first time I saw Belle and Sebastian. It was at the Greek in Berkeley, August 2003. Good tunes, good times. Some wimp name Oberst opened up, and we fucked up and missed almost all of his set. When we walked in, he was crying into the microphone. WTF? I realized then and there that I couldn’t compete with the emerging trend of being aggressively emo. It was unsurprising to me the following month when the fucker started dating the love of my life, Winona Ryder. Sigh. Steph cried during ‘Expectations’. Good rhymes, good cries. Great crimes of the heart. Greatness.

If you are ever feeling blue, or malevolent, write a song about your dream of horses. Don’t do it. That is my message to you today. Don’t you break your heart. Torrey Pines, motherfuckers. Check it out, I mean this: look up, on youtube or wherever, “your heart breaks torrey pines”. Get it off your fucking chest.

I’ll see you downtown.

-12:05PM 4/10/12,home, sitting on the couch looking at the rips in my jeans, in my life, liking them, “Electronic Renaissance” becoming electoral reconnaissance…


One Response to “One-oh-seven”

  1. What an amazing show, so many beards, so many happy and awed people, so glad you didn’t sell my ticket! Also, Wino forever.

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