The Last Drink

Today I finished my undergraduate classes and am one step closer to graduation in two weeks. It's been a long four years trying to finish a degree in science and then at the last minute changing my mind and completing a major in a year in a half. When I was asked during a scholarship interview at the end of high school where I would see myself in five years I gave them what I felt they wanted to hear. I told them that I would be similar to the person I was then, but with an advanced degree in physics. In high school I bought into my fabricated life and even believed that my life would be exactly as I planned it. I never imagined the situations that I have experienced and put myself through over the past four years. I never planned on sleeping in train stations, running with the homeless, ROTC, meeting my most consistent and dearest friend at a minimum wage barista job, teaching girls to play ice hockey, or spending summer nights playing drunken baseball behind a train station.

Tonight I spent the evening with friends from jobs past and more present. It was small gathering to celebrate the end of classes and a chance to let lose before finals next week. Most of my work friends came out to drink and have an evening remembering the good times and trying to forget the thankless job many of us shared in a low grade Italian restaurant on the Main Line. I spent a good deal of the night catching up with E and discussing the different directions ours lives have taken since working together two years ago. Even the Hebro stopped by and though he has been totally awesome it's getting harder and harder to see him and know that I'll be leaving him behind in two weeks. Eventually after all the chatter and a few beers my contacts kicked in and I had to leave. Instead of being the dutiful friend and coworker by saying a heartfelt goodbye to everyone, I snuck out of the bar in typical Sidney fashion. It's hard to say goodbye to the motley crew that has been a makeshift family and close-knit group of friends down here in Philadelphia and sometimes I find it to just slip away like I wasn't there in the first place at all.

Led Zeppelin - Going to California

Salsa Shark Live at The Grape Room

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing jam band Salsa Shark perform to an intimate crowd at The Grape Room in Manayunk. The band played a late night set for the venue's STOP Bullying Me! fundraiser with rousing success. It was my last chance to see the funkadelic band play while I'm still in Philadelphia and I wouldn't have missed lead bassist/vocalist Mykk Hoffman's gently bobbing blond afro for the world.

The band has come light years from open mic nights at the now closed Village coffee house on 63rd in West Philadelphia. It's been a rough road for the young band. Going through drummers like I go through books, the band has finally settled on St. Joe's freshman, Tom Dominguez. With his dark scruffy beard and ferocious energy Tom kept the beats going even improvising after a string snafu forced guitarist, Curt Zimpher, from the stage. Playing in his own little corner of the stage, guitarist Bert Weaver kept background rhythms strong and even while grooving in his own personal zone. The interaction between Mykk and Curt shows the synergy and trust this close-knit group has developed over the years.

An evening of jam band music reminiscent of the Allman Brothers, Disco Biscuits, and The Grateful Dead all rolled into one with a little Jimkata on the side, Salsa Shark kept their audience captivated and begging for more. With most of their members still finishing up courses in college the band is creating a growing fan base in Philadelphia, but I hope to see them on tour up in Vermont sometime soon.

You can like Salsa Shark on Facebook and stay up to date on their latest on-goings and show dates.

He's acting dumb, that's what you've come to expect.

I'm lying in bed on this cold, cold April night trying to decide if I want to watch last night's episode of Game of Thrones now or wait until tomorrow or just wait until the Hebro falls asleep on his couch after a rousing game of Scrabble and just watch it On Demand at his house. Decisions, decisions. In the meantime I'm listening to Elliott Smith on Spotify and hiding under my comforter with my laptop and fuzzy. I resemble one of those forlorn and wayward kids in a Wes Anderson film. It's kind of fun actually, like being in a tent in the middle of my high rise apartment on the edge of Fairmount Park, the complete opposite of my old, but new again home-to-be in three weeks.

It's been a long while since I've listened to Elliott Smith consistently. I think the last time was in high school when he was an extra-credit question on a biology test (I went to a small school in the woods with good musical taste) and I rushed home to look up everything I could find on him. Even then I was too late to get on the Elliott Smith bandwagon as he had passed away two years before I took my biology test. My first introduction to Mr. Smith was during a screening of The Royal Tenenbaums with my dad. His song Needle in the Hay plays during the scene were Richie takes a razor blade to his wrists and the entire dysfunctional family reunites at the hospital after hearing about Royal's fake cancer and Margot's extreme personal secrets.

Can't wait to see Moonrise Kingdom next month. 

Remember it is only April...

I was going to write with a more serious tone or at least a less sarcastic and grating one, but with the weather being cold and rainy all day and in between watching countless episodes of Magnum P.I. (ladies of the 80s you know where I'm coming from) and what will probably be my last all-nighter in a very, very long time I decided that I would discuss an issue that is getting out of hand, especially since it is only April: someecards featuring Mayans and 2012.

Seriously people. Since the end of 2011 people have been coming up with various end of the world scenarios for the popular ecard website. Now don't get me wrong, I love those biting, snarky cards with their vintage etchings as much as the next person. In fact if I find a particular nasty one I'll even get around to posting it to my facebook wall until I get phone calls from one of my parents who find my humor too lowbrow for their refined tastes. It's the ecards with 2012, end of the world implications that I find so annoying, especially since so many people are taking this whole thing seriously. I mean if I survived May 21, 2011 (good call Harold Camping) then we will all be waking up January 1, 2013 mostly alive, but with epic hangovers. Besides if the world is going to end at the end of this year, technically I would be going out sometime on the 30th because of where I am situated with the International Dateline. So suck on that Mayan people.

Anyways... with the advent of global warming and the recent invasion of boy bands from across the pond, I can see how these ecards are gaining momentum so early in the year. In fact some of them are even funny, like the ones below:

Okay that one was pretty awesome. 

Aww man I want a dog.

For a while now I've wanted a dog. Not just any dog, a snow dog. Preferably a Siberian husky or a Malamute, but anything along those would suffice for me. Ginger Dan and I used to talk our love of dogs of the husky variety and how he would name his after the Tank Girl character Booga and I would name mine Captain Ahab or Penny Lane after the cat my roommate and I illegal housed in our dorm room for two weeks during our sophomore year. As a child I was denied the opportunity of have a dog. My parents could barely keep up with two screaming small children who fought like animals themselves let alone adding a real animal into the mix. My mom would have liked a dog, a small one like a Yorkie. I think when my dad gets weak enough in his old age to not care she'll finally get herself one. Lance on the other hand is adamantly against all animals that aren't someone else's or goldfish. Growing up, we went through A LOT of goldfish. Never in a million years would I have been allowed a dog, especially a shedding snow dog like a husky. Though with their anti-social natures a husky would have fit right in with my family. Unfortunately until I officially move out of my parent's house and into a home with a backyard I will not be getting the puppy of my dreams.

Instead I cope with my doglessness by reading the Text From Dog tumblr. In a ridiculously mysterious way some person in the United Kingdom is screen saving the precocious texts he receives from his dog while he's out of the house. The relationship between owner and dog is very reminiscent of the TV show Wilfred. In fact is I had to put a face to the "dog" on the other line it would be Wilfred's.

Seriously I'd hang out with this dog.

Anyways here are a few of the dog texts from Texts From Dog:

You can see the rest of Text From Dog here>>>

IT'S BATDOG!!!

It's the colors you have, no need to be sad. It really ain't that bad.

Honestly is there anything more cooler than Mill Murray not giving a fuck while steals a bike with a pair of bolt cutters? I really don't think so. Mill Murray just oozes je ne sais quois and a suaveness that only Mr. Murray seems capable of pulling off. I mean really how many of us can just hijack a bicycle and just walk away with the bike of our shoulder, not even caring if we were to get caught with it. It really is just such a baller picture. I almost wish that I could feel cool enough to do something like that or just not give a fuck to walk away with a bike. Unfortunately I have a stress issue when it comes to police authority and recently found two gray hairs on my head.

At 22 it feels a little early to be growing gray hair, but with a father who began shedding his hair line at 24 and a mother who has been dyeing to hide her own hair issues at an even younger age it's not exactly a surprise. Add in all of the compounded stress of the last four years and logically I should be nearly white on top by now. Graduation should be a time of joy a celebration, I remember watching my cousin finish her course load a few years ago and walk across the stage at her own December graduation. She was excited and energetic and proud of the work she had put in over the years. I don't feel any of that. I don't even want to go pick up my cap and gown from the bookstore. Fortunately I'm not alone. My friend Andi has yet to pick up her own cap and gown and my dear friend Slolly just wants to go home now and not look back. We have no desire to sit under the big white tent next to City Ave and listen for our names to be called out. I just want to go home and go to sleep for the next few weeks.

I had a language teacher in high school who stressed the importance of being more than just a drone who was defined by what they did for work. I remember sitting in a hotel common area in Greece with her and a few other people talking about life and getting better acquainted. I had one of the local stray dogs in my lap (completely unaware of the risks of ticks at the time) and I remember listening to my teacher tell us that too many people are defined by the jobs they do and not by the things they enjoy to do. I remember having a hard time separating the differences between the two ideas. Last week marked the third anniversary of my language teacher's passing and with graduation looming only weeks away I am starting to understand more of what she meant and how I've change since having her as a teacher. In college I put myself in situations I never would have imagined for myself and met all sorts of different people. When I left high school, I left with a bad taste in my mouth and with very few people I felt connected to. When I leave Philadelphia next month I will be leaving behind a whole slew of people from different backgrounds that I never would have had the pleasure of knowing if I hadn't come to college, including my best friend.

I'm moving home when I graduate with no job perspectives and no real life goal other than to just adjust to a new lifestyle and acclimate back into small town life. This time though I'm not leaving with a bad taste in my mouth or on bad terms with people as I had back in 2008. I'm ready to leave the city and return home because I'm not the same person I was when I left.

Art class.

Stowe loves art sports. It's true  played three throughout most of high school and while I was in band as well it was on a whole different level than studio art. The sole purpose of my high school was to graduate overachievers packed with multiple science and math courses on their GPAs and send as many off to small ivies as possible. Very little emphasis was placed on painting, pottery, and photography. Even AP English was hard to come by and if it wasn't going to be offered by Mr. Curtin few people had interest in enrolling in it. There was an art requirement, but many students found ways around it with private piano lessons or a semester of chorus. The requirement was a small one and if someone missed it by graduation it was overlooked. 

The music program is an extremely strong one considering the school's small size. The students enrolled in band are particularly devoted to their playing with many starting in 4th grade and continuing on through their senior year of high school. It helps that there is always several carved out periods for the band to meet during the week, but the fact that students have the same band instructor from beginning to end also contributes to students' devotion to the class and their music. 

Studio arts on the other hand did not garner the same attention as the musical arts did and while the students that took them were just as devoted they did not receive the same attention and funding that the other courses did. My high school was quicker to subsidize and science field trip than provide advanced art students with much need supplies. Time was another issue as well. With all of the required classes that I needed to take there wasn't much space in my schedule to take a painting or practical arts class. Because of my time constraints I didn't have very many creative outlets and I burnt myself out by the end of high school. 

In college I continued my mindset of putting other courses ahead of others and by the beginning of my junior year I was tired and depressed and could barely get out of bed most days. I ended up changing my major from a science to a humanities and for the most part I've been happier though trying to complete an entire major in three semesters has had its stresses. This semester I had the opportunity to take a painting course with Dennis and without it I could easily say that I would have walked away from school without my diploma and gone into the woods where no one could find the body. College is hard enough and while I'm not the best painter being able to receive credit for painting in an old house on Lapsley Lane has made it much more bearable now that I've nearly neared the end. 

A Good Friday inspired acrylic on unstretched canvas. 

My first large scale acyclic on canvas.