hahaist011's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i had a friend named lee; he cast a spell, a spell on me. it always seems off that i never knew anyone before lee who dug Built to Spill. or, slightly less off, that i knew nothing about them before 2000. right before I Left. we had tickets to see them in the city. much like the toots and the maytals tickets for good friday that i gave away to patty connelly, that fun-as-heck hibernian girl at BT. who i wished i would be pals with after. (after i left BT and before I Left.) all i can seem to do is sit here and listen to "You Were Right" (not to be confused with the controversial "You Got No Right"), "I Would Hurt a Fly," and "Car." i wonder if others would dig it as much. (don't think i've forgotten where Low came from. [ahem, jim steiner.]) oh yeah. pretty much the same deal with mountain goats. and what else? oh, a whole bunch. let's make a list: there's more, i'm sure. what did he get from me? maybe blonde redhead. afghan whigs. maybe. i remember record shopping with lee being the most normal-seeming record shopping ever. and by "normal," i mean it was like it's supposed to be but had never _quite_ been. he was as always as scattered and excited as i was. i remember flipping through everything at Jerry's in squirrel hill, looking for The Jets (as in "rocket 2 U"), and he would be as stoked as i was when i found it, finally. or Kenny Rogers and the First Edition. he'd be across the store, holding up a roger troutman LP like it was the All-Valley Under-18 Karate Tournament Trophy, and we'd be all "yyyeeeeesssssssss!" god. where the fuck is my turntable now? (in a basement, i believe, in bloomfield.) lee's empathy was different than other people's. i understand better now that if i had been able to be record-shopping excited about other things, he would have been able to be his real self more with me. instead, i was frequently low and stupid. what was he to do? no one better: motorcycle riding, going to shows, cross country skiing, bike riding, jukebox playing, making beast noises, playing board games, watching "hard target." that particular list could go on a long, long while. but what's the use, right? i wanna see it when you get stoned on a crowded breezy desert afternoon, but you wouldn't wanna see me do it. this is not the greatest diaryland entry in the world. this is only a tribute. (nay--we be but men.) 6:02 a.m. - 2007-09-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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