I'm pretty sure that's the first Eyehategod reference on this blog. I've still got the magic.
This month marks ten years in Atlanta, and predictably that's provoked lots of soul-searching, contemplation of my failures, and wistful looks at the heavens. Considering that I didn't expect to stay here for two years, Atlanta hasn't done too badly. I still can't handle the drivers or the summers, but it's got good food and I've got a fantastic girlfriend, so things aren't bad. I could live in Macon, after all.
But I've been in a poignant mood (can you be in a poignant mood? Must check) lately. Autumn does that to me no matter what the year. After months of giggling teenager weather it's turning soulful and brooding. The sunsets get more pregnant with meaning. You start contemplating everything you failed to do in the past year.
I've also been listening to a lot of Slobberbone lately. This is nothing new -- they're a favorite band -- but they evoke more nostalgia. First of all -- they make me nostalgic for about 2004, when I was young and excited (and when I was nostalgic for 2001, when I was young and excited and nostalgic for 1998), when every night was a party, when we had a world to win. Second of all, even their most fun party songs are tinged with a note of regret, so that when they turn the regret up to 10 (I'm thinking especially "Bright Eyes Darkened" here, but "Lazy Guy" does it in a jovial manner, and a few others), well, holy crap, you wish that Slobberbone had stayed together so that they could take all of our regrets and broken dreams onto their shoulders and write songs about it, so that we could all live happy and carefree dreams.
But they broke up and left us to deal with the change of seasons and sad sunsets on our own, so I guess I'm shit out of luck. I'd like to someday appreciate the here and now; that probably involves some sort of spirituality, for which I'm singularly ill equipped. I'd like to enjoy the days and feel them in the same way I'll feel them in three years.
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Last week at football (sorry, Anonymous LP, I mentioned it) a friend reacted to the Pittsburgh Steelers' loss thusly: jumping on to the couch, burying his head in the cushions, then punching it over and over while joyfully shrieking "I hate the fucking Steelers" in a cartoon voice. I thought it was kind of immature until I got home today and saw that St. Louis had beaten the Red Wings (when I left work, the Wings were up) and I wanted to punch the couch and shriek "I hate the fucking Red Wings." I'm such a small, small man.
Also, revisiting the discussion about great hockey blogs out there -- St. Louis Game Time establishes itself as, at the very least, the Petr Cajanek of blogs with this post. So awesome. Just for that, they get added to the links as soon as I stop being lazy.