I wasn't a drinker back then, and neither were the people I hung out with most. What with computer lab work and my extended circle of friends, my time was directed where I had space in my schedule. Sometimes he and I wouldn't hang out for a few days, but that was par for the course. Erik and I weren't what I'd call "best of friends", but we were certainly close, or at least as close as anyone in our goofy group could be. Erik and I were part of a fluid group of miscreants who would hang out in the dining hall, or go creeping around campus in the wee hours of the morning looking for stuff to steal, or hang out in the dorm's basement and playfully hurl insults at each other. And by the transitive property of Alexander friendship, me being friends with Simon who was friends with Erik, meant that I was destined to be friends with Erik. Around that same time, Simon must have rubbed shoulders with Erik at some dorm function, despite his room being on the second floor. it just sort of happened.Īt some point in the first couple of weeks of my freshman year, I befriended Simon, who, like me, lived on the first floor. I wasn't aware of this incredible personal chemical reaction at the time.
If you bumped into someone on Monday, there was a good chance that by Thursday you'd both be tooling around campus late at night doing stupid stuff. Once you met a resident and spent a little time with them, any of the people in their general sphere of influence that you clicked with, slowly settled into orbit around you. When the nonstop hijinks of my daily life were accompanied by a soundtrack provided by.Īs I explained in a previous column, Alexander, my beloved college dorm, was the kind of place where you sort of picked up friends through osmosis. When the goofy kid that was me matured into a goofier young man. The "hook" I could hang a few hundred words of musical "me" on: Simple, carefree, dumb fun.Īnd that means traveling back to a period of my life when I had zero responsibilities.
#Lend me your ears album movie
The cinderblock wall in my brain exploded outward like a Jerry Bruckheimer movie logo. Simple, carefree, dumb fun."Īs my friend Rob would text: BOOM. "Self", I said to myself, "why are you being so serious about all this? This column is supposed to be fun. Because the other day, while I was in the shower, it hit me. It shouldn't be so hard!īut that break was just what I needed, I guess. It got so aggravating that I just walked away for the last month completely. The more I pushed myself to come up with the perfect throughline, the more cut off from my Muse I became. I can't tell you how many times I've typed an opening line into this very electronic document, only to backspace over it in frustration.
#Lend me your ears album series
For the last several weeks, I've been agonizing over finding themes for my next series of columns. Warts and all, they're my literary babies, and I adore them.Īnd that "professional guarantee of quality" is the reason why it's taken me so long to get back in the writing saddle. Regardless of my perceived levels of success, I can honestly say that every installment that's been published so far, I'm proud to have my name on. But then sometimes I'm afraid I've been too blunt and heavy-handed, like my attempt to reclaim some happiness in today's chaotic world.
Sometimes I think I've nailed it, like the story about falling in love with my favorite album of all time. I don't know if any of my loyal readers have noticed, but over this first year of “Lend Me Your Ears” (happy anniversary to me!), I've tried to wrap each tale of musical discovery around a life lesson, or a realization, or a momentous occurrence. But me, I'm trying to elevate my screeds into something a little more entertaining. No, I'm lamenting the amount of effort I put into crafting these increasingly irregularly published egomaniacal columns.Īny hack with a computer and an Internet connection can string together a half-assed "I like this album 'cause it's cool" blog, or worse yet, a pointless "I hate this band because they suck" rant. I'm not dealing in double entendres right now. I'll give you a moment to quiet the litany of Michael Scott's "That's what she said!" comebacks that are ringing in your head, so we can continue with this serious discussion.
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