oh we kissed only once
in your stripped out apartment
you sold your furniture
so we kissed on the carpet
you were my fiji
oh believe me
those hours with you only expand
but i fell in love with
somebody else's sand
somebody else's dry land
-vanderslice
My playlist has recently consisted of the musical styling of John Vanderslice’s Time Travel Is Lonely album, Death by Stereo’s Death For Life, and Fall Out Boy’s From Under the Cork Tree album. The latter two not exactly being groundbreaking music, but I love both bands, and will see them live every chance I get. Vanderslice is good for after I’ve listened to a year’s worth of Mountain Goats, and need a break.
Animal Collective’s brilliant Sung Tongs have also taken a few spins on my stereo.
I’ve job hunted so relentlessly to a point where some days I considered just giving up. I was as close to honest as one can get when talking to potential employers, and while some genuine seemed to appreciate it, it was that honesty that prevented me from getting hired.
I followed up at Bass Pro/Outdoor World, which Brent originally mentioned to me. I was able to speak directly to one of the Team Leaders of the camping/hiking department, Bob. Bob seemed like a very nice old man, we had a short chat about a relative of his who’s going to Buff State next year. He mentioned to me that there was a rush right now, and that he’d try and track down my application to set me up for an interview. Now, this sounds promising, right? Possibly. Most likely. But I’ve come this close to a job before, and it doesn’t always work out. If I don’t get a call back by Tuesday afternoon, I’m leaving another voicemail for Bob. If I don’t get a job here, then I don’t know. Maybe I’ll follow Lucas’ lead and deliver pizzas. $500 a goddamn week. My parents would hate it, but damn. Order a god damn pizza.
I find myself being involved in occasional theological discussions/arguments where I act (to the best of my ability) as the Christian apologetic I consider myself to be. Even after all this, I’ve found myself the last couple months lacking the faith and devotion that originally gave me more strength. When I do mention Jesus, it’s only to defend my beliefs, and is no longer in praise of Him, or asking forgiveness for myself, or prayers for others. This is what I need to work on.
As for subtle mentions of spirituality in beautifully orchestrated guitar songs, look no further than Sufjan Stevens. Next to Darneille and Vanderslice, this guy’s my new favorite singer.
Tomorrow (well, today) is Father’s Day, and me and Pops are going to see the Orioles (hopefully) kill, main, and destroy the Colorado Rockies. He doesn’t understand everything about me, or the things I write, or the music I share with my mother – but man is he a good, honest, caring person. Moreso than I could ever hope to be. Any of you reading this who admire, respect, or envy me in ANY sort of way – you have my father to thank. He works long hours, pays his taxes, loves his family, and is one of the main reasons I still have faith in humanity. And he’s a better golfer than me.
