Kyle Garret's Blog, page 10

My Top 20 Albums of All Time

A few years ago, I made a list of my top 10 albums of all time.  I revisited the list recently, mostly as a way to prioritize which albums I should buy as I've just gotten a new record player.

I wonder if the same 10 albums would make the cut if I made the list now, which then led me to wonder which albums I'd include if I expanded the list.

So let's see.

The Original 10
While I'm not sure if all of these would still make the top 10 (I'll have to give it some thought), they'd certainly all still make the top 20.

R.E.M. -- "Life's Rich Pageant"

In the end, it's really my brother who's to blame for me being as odd as I am. He hooked me with "Superman" (not even written by R.E.M.) because I was into comics, and the next thing I knew I was listening to the entire album. It's cliche, I know, but "Fall On Me" is still one of my all time favorite songs.

I can remember, years later, going to see R.E.M. in concert on their "Monster" tour. My friend Brett and I had never seen them before, but had been fans for years. We met my brother there, who had seen them years earlier on their last tour. He had brought a friend who had actually seen them on the tour before THAT.



Pearl Jam -- "Ten"

Any note from any song on this album immediately takes me back to high school. I lived for this band. This was what moody teenagers listened to before emo. There were a good couple of years in there, from perhaps 1992 to 1995, when I was the Pearl Jam guy. I bought everything I could find by them -- I even bought a CD single because it had two unreleased songs on it...and I didn't even own a CD player yet! That was how obsessed I was. I even owned a box set by them at one point.

I honestly don't know where most of that stuff is now. I'm sure I sold it all.



The Afghan Whigs -- "Gentlemen"

Every man alive has wanted to be Greg Dulli at some point in his life. Don't try to deny it.

I actually got to see the Whigs live twice. The second time, Dulli threatened to come down off the stage and "beat up your Greek ass." This was funny because the guy he was talking to wasn't Greek, he was wearing a fraternity hat. The crowd ate it up.

The video below sums it up:



Jawbox -- "For Your Own Special Sweetheart"

My introduction to the world of indie music came, not surprisingly, with a major label release. Most of my college life was defined by this band. "Savory" is also up there on the list of greatest songs I've ever heard.

I could go on and on about how Jawbox changed my life. I have two CDs worth of music that I helped write that has their fingerprints all over it. They also got me to quit thinking and looking at things on the surface and to start digging a bit deeper, not just in the music world, but culturally and intellectually (they are one of the smartest bands I've ever heard). They're also the first band I ever had any personal contact with, both online and in person.



Fugazi -- "Repeater + 3 Songs"

I can remember, the summer after my freshman year of college, driving to my job at a grocery store and blasting "Merchandise" as loud as I could. "Blueprint" still gives me goosebumps.

While Jawbox opened my eyes, discovering Fugazi was like finding the Holy Grail or, rather, an alternate Bible. These were the guys who were more or less responsible for everything I'd ever listened to over the last few years. I had no idea how far ranging their influence was. It was also interesting to learn, later in life, how Fugazi's influence seemed to stop halfway across the country, how two very different definitions for "punk" were born because of this.



Sunny Day Real Estate -- "LP2"

Sure, a decent argument could be made for their first record, "Diary." But the overall tone of this album -- and the simple fact that there's not a bad song on it -- pushes this one ahead. Enigk's yelling at the end of "Rodeo Jones" is inspired.

I'll add this, too: when I got this album, I knew the band had already broken up. I can remember very distinctly hearing the end of it and thinking "that's it. That's the last SDRE song I will ever hear." Thankfully, that wasn't the case, but the band that would reform was very different.



Radiohead -- "The Bends"

I could have been cliche and gone with "OK Computer" on this one, but the fact is I never would have bought that album if it hadn't been for this one. "The Bends" is what got me into Radiohead. And every person who has ever picked up a guitar and tried to write a sad song has tried desperately to write something as good as "Fake Plastic Trees."

Radiohead is also responsible for helping me keep a job at a record store. My boss was pretty much insane, but when Radiohead hit it big, I became the in-house expert. I picked out all the singles, bootlegs, and imports to order and we constantly sold out. Sadly, a lot of those sales came from me.



Pretty Girls Make Graves -- "Good Health"

This was their masterpiece. The energy level is so high on this album, the guitar work is so insane, and the vocals are off the charts. It's pump your fist in the air math rock. And, not to be kill a theme, but I still get goosebumps during "Sad Girls Por Vida."

I got to see PGMG at the Troubadour a few years back, before their second guitarist quit. It was -- and still is -- one of the best shows I've ever seen (most shows at the Troubadour rank pretty high on my list). When they went from a two guitar attack to one guitar and keyboards, the band was never quite the same. They were still good and the songwriting was still high end, but the energy level fell off; the music was never as kinetic.



Nada Surf -- "Let Go"

An argument could be made that if any single band could be referred to as "Kyle's favorite band," it would be Nada Surf. Known by most as a one hit wonder, this band writes songs that constantly amaze me. I've seen them more times than I can count and I will continue to see them every time they come my way, because I just love their music that much.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Nada Surf are mostly known as a one hit wonder because of their song "Popular," which, frankly, isn't even the best song on that album (probably the second best). It's weird to think that my favorite band is dismissed by so many people in such a way. It almost makes me wonder if there are some other one hit wonders out there that deserve a second chance. Almost.



Wilco -- "A Ghost Is Born"

Sad and hopeful at the same time, this is (I will admit, arguably) Wilco's best album. There's only one song on this entire album that I'm not in love with, and that's saying a lot. There's an amazing combination of songwriting and flat out weirdness on this album that Wilco will probably never duplicate, but I'm fine with that. This is enough.

Wilco happened to play one of the most serendipitous shows I've ever seen. It was at the Coachella Music Festival in 2005. Each act was given 45 minutes to play. Wilco had approximately 10 minutes left (after having played 35 minutes of every song I liked) and I though to myself "well, I guess I won't get to hear 'Kidsmoke,' since they barely have enough time for it and, besides, it's a music festival, they're probably trying to win over new fans." And just then, as the sun was setting behind them, out there in the desert, they started playing "Kidsmoke." It totally blew me away and solidified their spot on this list.



 If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Pretty Girls Make Graves, Fugazi, and the Afghan Whigs might have dropped down on this list.  Honestly, I don't think they did, but they're the least secure of the ten I listed above.  Most of that comes from the fact that I just don't listen to those albums as much as I used to.

The New, Additional 10
Jimmy Eat World -- "Clarity"

You know, I own every Jimmy Eat World album, but I can't say that I would listen them as one of my favorite bands.  At a certain point, their stuff became redundant.  I keep waiting for the album that will show them growing as a band, trying new things.  Because here's the thing: they got it right with Clarity.  Sure, there are some great songs on their later albums, but they nailed it with this one.  Achievement unlocked.  Time to move to the next level.



Weezer -- Weezer

Choosing a Weezer album was hard.  My favorite is "Maladroit," which is full of giant rock riffs and was probably the last time Weezer was really inventive.  It's hard to argue with the impact that "Pinkerton" had on the legend that is Weezer.  But, in the end, it's their debut that set the table for everything to follow.  I was also fortunate enough to get in on these guys on the ground floor, so I was able to enjoy this record without all the fanfare.



Metallica -- Ride the Lightning

I only listened to Metallica in bits and pieces when I was growing up, so I often knew individual songs, but not entire albums.  It was only later that I was able to appreciate each record as its own entity.  And while there are some great songs on other Metallica albums, for me, "Ride the Lightning" is the strongest as a whole.  Maybe that's because Cliff Burton was still around or maybe it's because of the amazing evolution from "Kill 'Em All," but if I had to take one Metallica album with me to a desert island, it would be this one.  Besides, it's hard to argue with "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and "Fade to Black" back to back.



Minus the Bear -- Highly Refined Pirates

 I've probably said this before, but Minus the Bear makes me think of college.  Something about the lyrics just strikes me as the college experience, even though the band is far removed from that time (I'm not sure if any of them were ever even students).  Up until "Menos El Oso," their albums were somewhat choppy.  So why pick "Highly Refined Pirates" over "Oso" or what could be their best album in years, "Infinity Overheard?"  Simple: it has the best individual songs.  It's everything that makes Minus the Bear great, from the math rock guitar and drums, to the triumphant loud quiet loud, to the extremely sing-able vocals.



Rival Schools -- United by Fate

There's a decent argument to be made that if I were to ever be in a band again, they would sound like a (bad) version of Rival Schools.  They are the perfect mix of heavy riffs and melodic hooks, with lyrics that never get too sappy.  They can give you the big, loud, guitar rock you want, but there's intricate songwriting going on beneath that.  Their debut album was on repeat for a solid six months before I made myself listen to something else.



Nirvana -- In Utero

It would be disingenuous for me to make a Top 20 list and not include a Nirvana album.  The 90's were such an influential period of my life that a case could be made that this entire list should feature grunge bands (or alternative rocks bands, if you will).  Nirvana's commercial breakthrough meant a lot to me, but it pales in comparison with their fourth (and final) release (assuming you count "Incesticide").  The sound is less produced and the songs are more inventive.



Ned's Atomic Dustbin -- God Fodder

Many years ago, my wife was working on a movie and the crew decided to post their lists of their top movies of all time.  My wife's list featured a few oddball choices -- movies not generally considered to be classics.  And one of the crew members told her that, as she got older, that list would change, in theory to better reflect the traditional lists that people in the industry tend to make.  The problem with that, to me, was that a list of top anythings includes things that mean something to you.  It doesn't matter if they're great in the traditional sense if they encapsulate a particular moment in your life, a time that was and always will be important to you.  And that's how I feel about "God Fodder."



Helmet -- Meantime

I bought this on tape and I listened to it so much it broke.  Helmet was the happy medium between alternative rock/grunge and heavy metal, yet they seemed to refuse any of the trappings of either of those genres.  Were their songs redundant?  Yes, but it wasn't all that noticeable over a single album (an entire career, however, is different story).  There are a lot of great songs on this album, but let's just be honest here and say that "Unsung" is one of the greatest songs of all time.



Quicksand -- Slip

Funny enough, I'm making a point of avoiding putting multiple albums from single acts on this list, which probably ruins the whole things, as it's entirely possible a couple of the bands in my top ten would have second albums on this list.  My arbitrary rule is stretched a bit with Quicksand, which features Walter from Rival Schools.  But this album is just too great to leave off, and 3/4s of the band is different, so I'm going with it.  "Unfulfilled" will always be one of my favorite songs, a song I wish I'd written myself.



The Stills -- Logic Will Break Your Heart

I love The Stills.  Love them.  I seem to be the only person I know who loves them, which is strange even for me.  I may listen to a lot of indie bands, but come one, I still know people who listen to them, too.  I love The Still so much that it was hard to pick an album to put on this list, but in the end I went with their full length debut.  They write wonderfully simple, atmospheric songs with catchy vocal lines.  Try "Still In Love Song" for a taste.


So there you go, my expanded list of my top albums of all time.

What do you think?

Fruitful: The Nursery

If you were to ask me what I did on the last few weekends or what I'm doing on the next few, my answer would be the same: working on the nursery.

Even talking about it kind of freaks me out.

Aside from Nicole's belly, the signs of impending child aren't out in the open.  There's no sign when you walk into the house that says "Future Site of a Rampaging Child."  There are no pads on sharp corners, ticks on a corner to measure height, or permanent marker on the walls.  Sure, there might be a stack of comic books somewhere, but those are mine.

This nursery is becoming the embodiment of this kid, which is funny, given that he probably won't care about it.  It's not like we're going to bring him home and he's going to be like "Blue?  I hate blue!"

And as with every room revamping we've faced in this house, there is far more work involved than you would believe by just looking at it.  Honestly, there's going to be far more work done than you would see by just looking at it, which is part of the frustration.  I'm of the mind that if no one is going to notice, then why bother?  Nicole is of the mind that we should do things correctly.

That's one of our biggest difficulties at this point -- Nicole is type A and wants to, at the very least, be involved in all aspects of the work.  But her job is getting busier and she'll soon be working Saturdays, which means that if we want this nursery done before the kid actually arrives, she's going to have to leave some things up to me.  I know that's not easy for her.

It's even harder for me.  Aside from the fact that I'll be torn between my desire to get this stinking room done already and my desire to do it like my wife wants, there's the fact that I don't want to disappoint her.  I want her to hand the room off to me and walk away, coming back only when its finished and finding an amazing nursery.

I kind of want it to be like something on HGTV, but it would be impossible to hide it from her (particularly since the room currently lacks a door) and I don't have the time or talent that they have.

Still, Nicole and I generally have a good time when we do projects like this, and we've done quite a few of
Not our nursery, but similar colors!them since we moved in.  Finishing the nursery will take us over the halfway mark of the percentage of this house we've redone over the last year and a half.  It will also mark the last time we have the time or money to make any changes, so it better be good.

I keep wondering when this will become real for me and perhaps finishing the nursery will be the start.  I'm already periodically freaking out about the fact that we're having a kid.  I would imagine that will only increase over the next 12 weeks.

All of that rambling about Nicole being type A and how we're getting the room done and how much of the house we've redone -- it's all my round about way of avoiding the fact that this will be my son's first room.  Aside from life, which I had a very minor role in, this will be the first thing I give him.  This is going to be his space.  It's his room.

And I know that his level of realization of this fact will be limited for a while, but it's entirely possible that he's in that room for a few years, and it's entirely possible that it will imprint on him, the way that every room I've ever lived in has imprinted on me.

I hope he loves it.  I hope he feels the incredible love that went into it.

I think he will.

Week 28!

Thanksgiving: The Other Holiday

There's not a lot I miss about the life I led before I met Nicole due, in no small part, to the fact that I haven't really had to give up anything other than things like being unhappy, being alone, etc.

But if you were to ask me if, deep down inside, there was anything I missed about my single days, it would be this: Thanksgiving.  Or, rather, not having Thanksgiving.

It's not that I don't like celebrating Thanksgiving, it's that I liked not celebrating it even more.

As it is, Thanksgiving is the holiday between Halloween and Christmas.  Stores can sell people things for Halloween and Christmas, but beyond food, they're stuck when it comes to Thanksgiving.  Halloween displays don't change into Thanksgiving displays on November 1st, they change into Christmas displays.

Even when I was in college, and just a few hours away from my parents' house, I remember skipping Thanksgiving, although I think I only got away with that because other relatives had been unable to attend.  I can't imagine just skipping it if my entire family was going to be there.

Once I graduated from college, though, I left the state, and coming home for Thanksgiving was no longer a realistic possibility.  And I suddenly realized how glorious Thanksgiving could be.

Holidays are strange in that they are, technically, days off from work, but they're spoken for, so they're not really.  No one does whatever they want on Christmas.  You have obligations.  Now, whether those obligations are enjoyable or not is a different story, but they're still obligations.  At least with Thanksgiving you get the day after it off, too (most of us, anyway).

When I stopped having obligations on Thanksgiving, a whole new world opened up.  Because pretty much
everything shuts down (this happened before stores got ridiculous with Black Friday deals -- and, also, I hate all that noise, so in my head they're all closed like they should be), my options were limited.  I'd also kind of feel like an ass if I went somewhere on Thanksgiving and made someone wait on me.

So with no obligations and no options to go anywhere, I was left with an amazing scenario: I had to do nothing.  "I did absolutely nothing and it was everything I thought it could be."

I know it's sounds like a contradiction, but it's liberating to be forced to do nothing, particularly for those of us who have a hard time relaxing.

And as a contrarian, I just enjoyed not doing what everyone else was doing.  Dare I say it, it felt liberating to not have to conform to traditional holiday norms.  I felt like I had fallen off the grid, like I was hidden from everyone else, unaccounted for and left alone.

Sounds great, doesn't it?

It's different for Nicole because she has a large family.  The associations she makes are different and strong.  So every Thanksgiving that we've spent together and every Thanksgiving in our future will involve some sort of family gathering.  And that's fine.

But sometimes I miss doing absolutely nothing.

Fruitful: Babies are gross.

Yeah, that's me.Up until we canceled cable a few weeks ago (I highly recommend it), Nicole had taken to watching this crazy baby show on TLC.  Each episode followed two women as they gave birth.

As it was a television show, they picked the craziest births they could find to document.  No one wants to watch boring television.  Even births that were probably run of the mill were amped up for entertainment value.  It's insane.

In one of the episodes, a woman who has just given birth (for the second time) says something along the lines of "It's a good thing women block out the pain of child birth or they'd never have more than one kid."

Why Nicole would voluntarily watch such shows is beyond me.

Anyway, the cameras are right there when these kids are born.  They come out, the cord is cut, and towel is wrapped around them, and they're put in mom's arms.  You see these babies as they are when they're first born.  This is not the Hollywood version of childbirth.

Here's the thing: these kids are disgusting.

I told Nicole that when she gave birth, she would be overjoyed, that this little, afterbirth covered alien creature will be in her arms and she will have an immediate bond with him.  He will be, after all, the culmination of nine months of her life.  Just tonight she mentioned how thinking about not being pregnant with him anymore made her a little sad.  There's a bond there that transcends the physical, which is interesting, as it stems from the physical.

I told her that she will be bursting with emotion as this baby is put in her arms and I will be by her side, marveling at what has happened, thrilled beyond words at the arrival of my son, proud beyond measure of what my wife has done, and thoroughly disgusted by what has transpired.  I told her that, no doubt, a short time later that will disappear and I will be fully on board the happiness train.

She has challenged my idea.  She doesn't think it will play out that way at all.  She thinks I will be on board
Found on the Wild Child Granola sitefrom the start.  She doesn't think the event of childbirth will influence me in anything but a positive way.

I think she's grossly underestimating my Midwesterness.  Or the relative properness of how I was raised, for that matter.

Newly born babies are gross, objectively speaking.  You cannot take a squishy little alien and cover it in human fluids and say, "look, it's beautiful!"  No, I'm sorry, that's not the way things work here in the real world, here on Earth, you little alien you.

But when I say that babies are gross, objectively speaking, I mean it.  They are objectively gross.  But there's nothing really objective about your baby, now is there?

And so I will be at war in the delivery room.  While my wife is fighting a real battle in labor, I will be fighting an internal one.  I will be fighting the part of me that thinks this kid coming out of my wife is pretty freaking gross.  I will be fighting the part of me that is not caught up in the miracle of life, that is not moved by the emotion of the moment.  I will be fighting the part of me that finds the entire process unseemly, 1800's style unseemly, when I should be somewhere else and informed of the matter after the fact.  And then I will smoke my pipe and toast my brandy and hold my monocle up to my eye as I look the child over.

I will be trying my best not to retreat.

But it's a war I can win.  It's a war I can win because I will not be fighting it alone, even though my ally will not be aware of her involvement.

Because I know I will be there for Nicole.  I know I will be by her side, doing whatever I can to help her, even if the only thing I can do is be there.  I will be in the moment because the moment matters and I know it matters because it's about Nicole.  She will keep me there without even trying.

And I will love our son.  I will love the moment that we first see him.  I will love Nicole holding him for the first time.  I will love holding him myself for the first time.  I will be completely in love with that moment and with everyone involved in it.

But I know I'm still going to think it's gross.

Week 27!

My New Record Player

I had no idea record players were cool.

I don't remember when I got my stereo.  It consisted of a turntable, two tape decks, and a radio, so it was older than CDs, at least.  I remember having it in middle school, which means I could not have gotten it any later than 1988, which means I held on to that thing for at least 14 years.

I was late to the CD party, but that stereo had an auxiliary input, so when I got a CD player I could still keep my stereo.  The fact that there was a turntable on top of it wasn't something I ever really thought about.  I listed to tapes, mostly.

But in high school I joined the Ten Club, the fan club for Pearl Jam, and every year they released a 7" for members, and suddenly the turntable had purpose.  And then I went to college and started listening to punk rock and indie rock and discovered that records were the preferred format of the working class.  Every band with a 4 track and a few dollars could release a 7", which made it the great equalizer.

And now I had records to go with my record player.  Now the tape deck was irrelevant and the turntable got all the love.

But I was never really a collector.  Back then, a record was a record was a record.  There was no reverence for vinyl.  I knew that people claimed it was better than a CD and that was fine, but it wasn't really an issue for me.  I bought records because a lot of the bands I listened to were releasing music on records, often a week or two before the same album came out on CD, and I wasn't famous for my patience.

Plus, god bless the 7".  Before MP3s, the best way to see if you liked a band was to buy a 7" for two or
three bucks.  I have a stack of 7"s that probably seem completely random, and it's because they were cheap ways to try out a band.

In 2002, I moved to Los Angeles.  I had, at the time, been living in Atlanta, a place I was able to drive to after graduation from grad school in Athens, Ohio.  Driving to Los Angeles didn't seem to make much sense, although I'll be honest that thinking about it now, I wish I had, as that would have been a hell of a road trip.  But I suppose since I was putting so much distance between my new life and my old life, I had to cut myself down to the minimum, and the stereo was not going to go on the plane.

I would spend the next 11+ years without a record player, which wasn't really a big deal, as the MP3 had made a big splash and digital was clearly the musical format of the future.  I think I was in Los Angeles for only 2 years before I sold all my CDs.

I love digital music.  I love the freedom of it.  I love that we live in an age when a band doesn't even need a record label to get their music to the masses.  I love that I can make mixes and play lists without having to hit stop and start on two tape decks over and over again.

But let's be honest: digital music lacks something.  Call it "life" if you want, but digital music often exists in a void.  There's no context to digital music.  Even a song on an album is just an individual song that happens to be numbered a certain way, but can be listened to very easily on its own.

Records force you to listen to the entire side (fine, I guess you can skip if you want to, but given what a chore it is, why would you?).  They force you to appreciate the album as a whole which, in theory, is what the artist is going for.  While I have no doubts that your average top 40 artist looks at music as a collection of singles, your really good bands put a lot of time, thought, and creativity into what a complete album is like.  It doesn't even have to be a "concept album."  There is a flow to an album that requires real consideration.  In many ways, it's an art form on its own.

And let's not forget the packaging.  There is no packaging with digital music and I'm sure the earth is happy about that.  Hell, I'm happy about that, more or less.  I'm thrilled that we can buy music and not be forced to hold on to CD trays and cardboard inserts that will eventually end up in landfills.  I'm glad that the mediocre album by band x isn't going to take up space in my house or in a landfill.

But the packaging for vinyl is important.  It's essential.  It will never be thrown away, never add to our growing landfills.  The packaging for a record is classic.  Pulling a record out its cardboard sleeve, then pulling it out of it's paper sleeve -- there's just this wonderful, tactile feeling to it.

I guess that's what it's all about, actually.  For as much as I love digital music, it's sterile.  It removes context from music, or at least context from an album.

I love the smell of a vinyl record.  I love the smell of the record player itself.  I love the sound of pulling it out of its sleeve, and the sound of the needle hitting it.  I love the cracks and pops that tell you the music is on its way, like an usher taking you to your seat.  I love the feeling of a record in your hands, this physical thing that represents sound, that encapsulates your music and how you feel about it.  And, particularly these days, I love the look of it all.  The packaging for vinyl has become gloriously high end, because that's who is buying these albums.

After ten years, I have a record player again.

And all is right with the world.

Fruitful: The Quiet

Nicole has gone to sleep.  It's a Wednesday night as I write this (a "school night," as we call them) and I'm sitting here, drinking some Macallan, working on my second YA book, listening to The National, and enjoying the quiet.

These are the moments that I will no doubt miss the most after our child is born.

I'm sure there will be a million new and different moments to replace it, but even if those moments are better, they won't be the same.

I require a lot of alone time.  Nicole, god bless her, is aware of this fact and has never made it an issue.  We have an understanding, you might say.  I think I've gotten better about it over the years, but it's still there.

This alone time often comes late at night, while Nicole is in bed reading or has fallen asleep.  It comes as I described it above, sitting at my desk, attempting to write, surfing the internet, drinking whiskey, and listening to my music.  It is, in many ways, where I feel the most at peace.

So what happens when that goes away?

It's not going to be an overt problem.  The other day, Nicole mentioned how she feels like she's been crabby a lot.  I pointed out that she's pregnant and we have a lot of balls in the air right now, so it's justifiable that she should be a bit grumpy now and again.  And I told her that she's only really crabby in comparison to me, because I'm not really a crabby kind of guy.  I told her I would be crabby more often if I actually possessed the ability to process my emotions as they happened.

Perhaps it's the Midwest in me, but I don't "feel my feelings" (as JD said to Turk) until days later, at which point I explode.  Actually, that's an overstatement.  I seldom explode anymore.  I more just get annoyed by everything and pout.  Not ideal, I know, but better than exploding.

I worry that I won't realize how badly I miss the quiet until it's been gone for some time.  I worry that the
emotional toil on the newborn chaos that is coming to our lives is going to hide until the least opportune moment to pop out.

I'm not concerned about putting my child first.  I'm shockingly selfless when I want to be (emphasis on that last part).  But was with all things I go to the extreme and it's entirely possible that I will lose myself in this kid.  And that's not fair to anyone.

It's funny: my worst traits tend to come out when I have to wait for something.  I'm neurotic and impatient, which means I am not just frustrated by the waiting, but I'm also thinking of all sorts of horrible things in the meantime.  Honest to god, I can do almost anything if I'm forced to do it on the spot.  Give me any time to think about it, and I'll shit myself.

It's strange to be impatient for something, yet terrified of its arrival at the same time.

Time to go back to enjoying the quiet; I don't have many more of these nights left.

Week 26!

The Marvel/Netflix shows should take place in the 70's.

By now, most of you have probably seen the news about the deal Marvel has with Netflix to launch 4, original series featuring second tier characters, and then a mini-series that would unite all of them.  The characters in question are Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist (it's interesting to note that half of these characters aren't going by superhero names).  The mini-series will be "The Defenders."

It's a great move by Marvel (or Disney, as the case may be).  They want to expand their live action superhero universe and there simply aren't enough hours available on ABC (I also wonder how other networks feel about airing Disney shows these days, given how insulated they've become).  Besides, Netflix probably gives them a little bit more freedom, as they seem willing to "air" almost anything.

There's also the simple fact that Netflix original programming has buzz these days.  With the binge watching format that Netflix has in place, people who gave up on Agents of SHIELD after two weeks will probably give one of these new shows more of a chance, simply because they can blow through multiple episodes in one sitting instead of having to wait a week.

So, yeah, everything about the deal seems really smart.  I would like to suggest one more step that would make it even smarter: have the shows take place in the 70s.

But before I get into it, feast your eyes and ears on this beauty:

The above is the "sizzle reel" of Joe Carnahan's proposed Daredevil movie that will never happen.  It's awesome and underscores how well DD would work in a crime infested NYC of the 70s.  There's a certain dirtiness that comes with that era, particularly on film.

While Daredevil wasn't created in the 70s, you can see from the above clip that he works really well in that time period.  The same can be said for Jessica Jones, who's the most recently created of the bunch.  She's a private investigator (at least she was), so placing her in 1970s New York would also work really well for her.  They'd have to cut our her back story, but they're going to have to do that, anyway, as she couldn't have been an Avenger in the cinematic universe.

As for Luke Cage and Iron Fist, both of them made their first appearances in the 70s, and both of them were attempts to cash in on pop culture.  Cage was a blaxploitation character, with all the negative stereotypes that came with it.  Iron Fist was Marvel's attempt to mix kung-fu with their superheroes.  The two were connected so strongly by the time period that they were eventually put together in their own title.  Most people still consider them a team.

Aside from the fantastic setting, there's a logistical reason to place these shows in the 70s.  While Daredevil
doesn't have super powers per se (although neither do the Black Widow or Hawkeye), the others do, and they all live in New York.  You'd have to wonder why none of them stepped up during the battle of New York that took place at the end of the Avengers.  Even if you place these series after that, their existence is still going to create questions for future movies.  Also, SHIELD would know about them, so why wouldn't they be recruited?  It's an easy question to answer, though, if they're all in their 60's, assuming they're even still alive.

But, surely someone would mention the super heroes from the 70s, right?  Well, not necessarily.  None of these four is particularly flashy.  They all fly under the radar.  Their existence would end up being more urban legend than anything else.

And consider this gem for future stories: in the comics, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones are married and have a daughter.  She'd be an adult by the time the Avengers movies come out.  Suddenly you've got this wonderful new character that connects the current stories to the past.

Honestly, I'd be surprised if Marvel did this.  There's too much upside by having the characters take place in the present.  Period pieces don't tend to do as well as modern day fare.

But it would be fantastic and it would be different and that would mean a lot.

Fruitful: Entertainment has changed now that we're having a kid.

Last night, Nicole and I watched The Amazing Spider-man.  We saw it in the theaters, but she didn't remember it very well and I remembered liking it, so we watched it again (FYI, it didn't hold up as well the second time around).

Anyway, there's a scene when Peter and Gwen kiss.  It's their first kiss, and Peter has just told her some very big news, after spending a minute or two being something of a spazz.  And as I watched this scene I thought to myself "I'm so glad we're not having a girl...I hope our kid grows up to be like Peter Parker."

This was not unusual for me, not as of late.  Because these days I seem to view everything through the prism of an expectant parent.  And it's weird.

It's inevitable, though, isn't it?  You wonder about this kid.  You wonder what he'll be like.  Peter Parker's room is filled with character, as rooms for movies generally are (because they have set designers).  And it made me think about how relatively spartan my room was growing up.  Not that it was bad, it just lacked character.  I want my kid's room to be like Peter Parker's.  I want him unashamed of whatever he's into.

And what might that be?  I have no idea.  Will he have posters of bands?  Artists?  Cars?  Athletes?  Will have a desk covered with model trains or electronics?  Notebooks full of ideas or a corner dedicated to free weights?  Blue sheets or red sheets?  Stuff all over the place or organized into piles?  At what point will he outgrow the room we're currently getting ready for him?  When will we let him move to the bigger room with its own bathroom and, dangerously, a door to the outside?

There's a seen where Uncle Ben points out that he's not an educated man, and that he couldn't help Peter with his homework beyond the age of 10.  And, of course, that made me thinking about doing homework with my son.  I'm looking forward to that.  I'm looking forward to relearning all of those things (and learning things for the first time!) without the burden of hormones running through my system.  Going back even further, I'm looking forward to learning things while still carrying the belief that anything is possible, that the names of dinosaurs might actually be important one day.

You didn't often see teenagers in Los Angeles.  They were around, sure, but they were lost in the shuffle or relegated to certain parts of the city.  In Danville, they are everywhere.  I see teenager girls and I am ever so
grateful that we'll have nothing but boys.

I told Nicole about these thoughts during the movie and she told me that I'm going to have the harder time, as I'm going to have to teach our son how to treat women.  That is a subject for another blog post entirely, as it deserves more space.  But I'm not worried about how our son will behave towards women.  I joked that, given who his father is, our son will no doubt be too scared to talk to whichever gender he prefers.

But I know firsthand that kids learn such things from their parents indirectly.  My dad never sat me down and told me not to force myself on a woman.  Maybe that was naive of him.  He did, however, treat my mom great.  My brother and I saw this, day in and day out.  It has always been clear to me that my father would do anything for my mother and that he appreciates that she agreed to marry him all those years ago.

And my mom played a huge role in that.  My mom just wasn't one to put up with grief from anyone.  She had a full time job and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.  I respected my mom, which, I think, made it so that I automatically respected the women in my life.

I'm not worried about our son respecting women because he will see it in action every single day.

I would imagine that once our child is born, I'll start to look at movies and TV differently yet again.  This time I'll be wondering whether or not it's something that's appropriate for my son to watch.

Fortunately, I love cartoons.

Week 25!

Strays

When I was maybe 9, the other kids in the neighborhood and I unofficially adopted a stray dog that we named Scooter.  Scooter had been roaming around our neighborhood for a few days and didn't have any kind of collar on him.  What he did have was a slowly healing gash on his right front leg, so if he didn't already have our little kid hearts' sympathies, that put him over the top.  We weren't sure how Scooter had gotten hurt, but we had a pretty good idea:

Scooter liked to chase cars.

That was part of it, actually -- we started giving him food to keep him from running after cars.  Even a dog, when given a choice between a large metal object that could kill him and a bowl of food knows enough to pick the food.  Usually.

We stashed Scooter away in the woods behind our houses when one of our less charitable neighbors called the dog catcher.  There was no way we were going to let Scooter go to the pound.

One evening, about a week or so after this had started, I was walking down the street with my mom, Scooter trotting along beside us.  We were a few blocks away from our house, into an area where we didn't actually know every single person.  A man and a woman were out in their yard, most likely doing some kind of work on it, when we walked by.  Actually, it was Scooter who ran by first -- that dog was not shy.

Turns out these people had been thinking about getting a dog, so when we told them Scooter's story, they asked if they could adopt him.

And thus ends the uplifting story of Scooter the car chasing dog.

Living in Los Angeles made dealing with stray animals both better and worse.  It worse in the fact that there were just so damn many of them.  It was almost entirely stray cats, which was even harder for me since I had become a cat person.  I know cats are wily enough to survive on the streets, but it still breaks my heart to think of their eventual end.

If Los Angeles was more tolerable in any way regarding stray animals, it was the simple fact that there were
very real limitations on what you could do.  We lived in apartments.  It wasn't like these animals were roaming our yards.  It wasn't like we could set some food out for them at night.  Donating money to shelters and adopting pets were pretty much the only options we had, and, to a certain extent, that made it easier to deal with.

It's different in the suburbs.  Now, my heart breaks whenever I see a stray cat.  Heck, it breaks when I see an outdoor cat, because why do people do that?  Why would anyone leave their cat's fortune up to the cruel, cruel world outside their door?  We barely make due and we have opposable thumbs and higher brain functions.

So we leave some food out.  Nicole turned a box into a makeshift pet motel.  It gets cold, even here in California, and in the winter time I worry about our furry friends.  I worry about them when I see them and I worry about them when I don't.  But I can't take them all in and become crazy cat guy, because I already have two cats and my wife would never let me (also: kid on the way).

And so we give money to local shelters and we hope they'll be okay.  And we love our cats like crazy.

And I hope that the stray cats in our neighborhood can find new owners, the way that Scooter did.

Fruitful: To Do List

Nicole and I are both making "to do" lists for the impending arrival of our kid.  Nicole's list is of things that need to get done in advance of his birth.  My list is of things I won't be able to do after he's born, so I have to do them now.

On one hand, this is practical.  Nicole is pregnant, so this whole thing is very much a reality for her.  She's already made sacrifices to become pregnant and sacrifices while she is pregnant.  Aside from being denied a new television (as that money can go towards food and diapers and daycare months down the line), my daily routine hasn't changed a whole lot.  No, scratch that, it has changed, but only in that I'm trying to work my way through my to do list.

You would think that there would be some friction between Nicole and I given our differing lists.  But there is at least some compromise going on.  I'm helping Nicole with preparations when she lets me.  Nicole's a type A personality, so having the bulk of the to do list in her hands would happen no matter what.  It's not that she wouldn't trust me with it, it's that she wouldn't trust anyone other than herself with it.  I don't mind.

And Nicole, god bless her, has been very lenient with my less than constructive tendencies as of late.  I think a big part of that is the fact that my to do list isn't just made up of things like "play the new Batman video game" or "re-read every volume of Marvel Masterworks: Spider-man."  Those are pushed down the list by the big one: write.

I have been writing like crazy lately.  I write almost every day, which is something of a rarity for me, simply because I've never had the time to write every day.  That would appear to be a lie, though, as I'm finding the time these days.  I have never kept track of how much I write, but a few weeks ago I started a spreadsheet to do just that.  I want to know how much I'm producing every day so that I can regulate my output -- and then increase it.

I have been working on another YA book for nearly three years now and I feel as though I need to get the
first draft done before the boy is born.  It's taken me nearly three years because there was another YA book that needed revising, queries that needed to be sent out, and short stories that need to be written, revised, and submitted.  Oh, and there was the second and third non-fiction books, revisions to my long dormant first novel, and the very beginnings of yet another YA book.

I'm trying to draw a line through as many things on this list as possible.

There's also all the house stuff, half of which is essential (like putting together the nursery), half of which is preferred (like re-organizing the cabinets).  And don't even get me started on the garage...

Oh, and what about working out?  I've got to squeeze as much of that in as possible, too, because lord knows I won't have the time for it in four months.

Did I just type "four months?"  Good.  God.

It seems impossible for me to overestimate how my life is going to change in four months.  I can't even wrap my brain around what it's going to be like.  Even the tiny glimpses I get from my friends with kids isn't going to prepare me.

In some ways, it makes my to do list less daunting than Nicole's.  We can prepare for the birth of our child all we want, but in the end we won't be prepared for the reality.  I can, however, get the first draft of "The Caretaker's Son" done before then.

It'll be interesting to see what my to do list looks like in four months.

Week 24!