Hey, almost there.

It has quickly become my favorite thing on the planet, sitting on my porch at night with a drink while I blog about things I’ll probably never publish. I sit outside every night and relax while traffic and volleyball and people coming and going happens around me. I play music or the Brewers radio broadcast. Some nights the sky is clear I get an amazing view of the summer sky. It’s almost perfect.

One of the blogs I’ve been wrestling with lately has been what I decided was my favorite song of all time. I’ve worked on it for about a week, writing some then deleting it all. It’s one of those that isn’t about the song at all, but a memory I associate with it. In a lot of ways it’s similar to what happened here. The song is almost inconsequential to the story. It’s a footnote.


A few months ago my computer took a shit on me. It had been operating terribly for months but one weekend it just fell off a cliff and I had to reformat the drive. I lost everything on it but thankfully it was an upgrade. I had the original drive in a drawer, meaning that all the documents and pictures from the last ten years weren’t lost. Last week I finally plugged that drive in and went through almost a decade’s worth of stuff I’d saved. I found stuff dating back to my sophomore year college. Pictures I’d taken with disposable cameras and scanned. Blogs I’d written and chats I’d had over AIM.

Two weeks ago I wrote about Thrice’s final show. It reminded me of my last Warped Tour. They were playing but my girlfriend’s friends had come along with us that day and one of them was being a pill and we left before they (AND THE OFFSPRING! guh) ever took the stage. Remembering that day I couldn’t help but ask myself why I didn’t put up a fight to stay. Why did I just reluctantly agree to go home instead of staying, “Uh, we’re not leaving until Thrice’s set is done.” It bothered me for days.

Then I combed through all these photos I hadn’t seen in years and found these two.



I’d seen Thrice two years earlier. I loved the shit outta that show. I had visual proof. I’d seen them before they broke up and while my memory obviously isn’t what it once was, I was never going to live with the regret of not having seen my favorite band.


Tonight I ran a search on my blog. I’ve never mentioned the song at #1 before or the weekend/night/moment I’ll always remember because of it. That isn’t to say I haven’t written about it in the past. I ran that same search on the old hard drive I mentioned above and when I did about a dozen results came up. Entries I’d written a decade ago that never saw the light of day. Blogs I’d written in the mid 2000s that are no longer online.

For some reason I’ve always kept that memory as something of importance, but it wasn’t until this last week that I’ve questioned why. What is it about this particular weekend that should have any more significance than one that thousands (millions?) of college kids experience on a regular basis? Maybe it was this specific girl. Maybe it’s because it was unique to me as opposed to common by others.

Maybe I just really fucking love this song?

My goal as a writer here is to make you understand what was going through my head and heart and appreciate what was going on back then. Put you in my shoes and hopefully forget that what went down really wasn’t unique, at least to others. That’s the challenge of this post. As difficult as it’s going to be, I’d love for readers to fall in love (maybe?) the way I did.

Blog forthcoming. Eventually. I can’t end this list at #2.

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