We Have No Excuse.

JHL: 21

The loves in life are always shared.

There is mostly music.  It started with early music that goofy kids would dance to – Talking Heads, Oingo Boingo, The Who.  It propelled from an interest to a passionate fuel of life.  CDs swapped and lyrics were read aloud.  Anti-Flag, Ted Leo, Golgo Bordello, Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly.  The Thermals, The Weakerthans,  Spoon, The Black Keys. Punk rock no one has ever heard of.  Modey Lemon?  Who the hell are the Dalmatians?

The Palindromes hammered out an offbeat production of “10am Automatic,” looks shot between band members as if asking who was supposed to pick up the next verse.  It wasn’t the production quality the audience was looking for anyway, it was the visual representation of a few high-schoolers’ love of music in action.  They got that.

The music was important.  It’s still important, it always will be.  Ted saved us in awkward times.  Hutz made us a part of life that demanded to be seen – it was the grace in fury and the connections between culture and youth.  The first concert isolated me from my youthful counterparts; the crowd was energy.  I retreated.  It was the first time I felt like I’d really passed the point of being young.  I don’t think I’ll forget that feeling.

My brother grasped with furious claws to the railing in the front.  We’d arrived two hours ahead to get a good spot.  He fought off the parasites behind him who wanted to weasel forward to the front who’d only just arrived.  He used elbows and knees and helped people across the front barrier who wanted to leave – who’d realized, in a state of sick panic, exactly what they’d gotten themselves into.  A riot that stood in place, merely swayed to loud gypsy punk rock, but when a full crowd sways, they sway several feet at a time.  People have been trampled to death under crowds like this, people who cannot follow the flow, fear that loses them to the energy of the movement.

It’s only one out of countless memories that I can recall.  It’s one of the more recent as well, before I drifted away from home by the tides of university and a new family life across the country.

I remember being jealous of attention.  I was the older brother and here he was, distracted.  By a girl.  The nerve!  But then again, I began being a curmudgeon when I was thirteen, so no big surprise really.  On the commercial breaks between Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I’d run outside in my footie pajamas and tell the neighbor to get off my damn lawn.  True story.

He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him.  I know this to be a good thing.  And you don’t need to see every color in the right way to have a sense of style, which he does have, and all his own.

The boy’s grown up.  For the most part, anyway.  Faster than I did, for sure.

I mostly remember just wandering around the forest, looking for things to destroy.   When you’re a developing young male, all you do is search and destroy.  The targets usually came in the form of chittering squirrels or old stumps that were the perfect height for practicing your kung fu.  I remember watching him break his clavicle in football practice, and then re-breaking it after falling off a bed.  I saw him stick his lower teeth through his bottom lip while running up the stairs.  I watched him turn white after staring at his crushed fingertip and rushed him to the hospital.  His mask was still perched on his head from theatre practice, and other patients shared looks of confusion.

Looks of confusion are commonly regarded as small trophies that are adorned proudly by me and my brother, especially in public.  Spontaneous dance breaks, shopping cart races, and “all the black tiles are lava!”  Typically, there has only been one person I have been able to do this with, and not feel completely ridiculous.  There will be two after my son is old enough.

As I squeezed my way through my awkward years as a teenager, my brother found himself on the receiving end of the occasional blast of misdirected angst.  For that, I apologize, even though I don’t think he really remembers any of it.  His payback was in full force and so passive in nature, he didn’t even realize he’d dealt any of it to me…  He simply wound up cooler than I did.  I didn’t even realize it myself until now.  Now I need to figure out some form of revenge.  I bet I have some naked baby photos somewhere.

Anyway, this post is about my brother, and how I think he’s a pretty alright guy, and I hope he does exactly whatever the hell he wants to in life.  He turns 21 today, and most people celebrate the passage of twenty-one years by drinking until passing out.  I like to think that he will instead collect a dram of magic mead and fly off on a space unicorn to slay  the fire ogres of Ganymede with his laser mind attack and save all the imprisoned slaves.  I just like to roll like that sometimes.  You don’t have to like it.  I didn’t ask you to.

I also write this post because I’m a cheap-ass who didn’t send him anything for his 21st birthday.  Not a damn thing, not even a card or some shitty Applebee’s gift card to go buy a 22-oz  of Sam Adams.  Nothing.  What the hell kind of brother does that?

Hopefully this means something, anyway.  In all my years of growing up with you, Josh, I’ve always thought you were a pretty awesome dude.  Keep kicking ass, man.  You make me damn proud to be your brother, and I take some credit in considering how cool you are.  Unless you do something stupid.  Then I’ll just have to mourn about how I couldn’t be more of an influence in your life.  And I’ll write a memoir about it, and share all the memories we had, even some made up ones.  Like when the basement flooded and we pretended to be pirates on our pirate boat which was really a bed.  Yarrgh.  Pirates of the Mold Hazard.

I love ya, bro.

Happy 21st.

Google says…

I love the automatic form fill-ins on Google.  Actually, that’s not true.  I mostly hate them.  Sometimes they get in the way – especially when my cursor happens to be floating over one of the suggestions and before I know it, I’m looking at pictures of Mariah Carey when I was supposed to be finding codes for Mario Bros.

Some findings are just plain silly.  Especially when you type in the start of a question, like “Should I tell my boyfriend…?”  and Google fills in the rest with: “I cheated on him; I kissed another man; I love him; I have herpes; about my past…” and so on.

So I started this on a silly note.  “Let’s have some fun with this!” thought I.

Search for “Can I have…”

• This dance
• Your number
• A kiss

Starts innocently enough.  Okay…

Search for different countries to see what would come immediately after the name:

• French: translation
• German: translation
• Italian: translation
• Polish: translation (jokes was in the top five)
• Russian: translation

Boring so far…

• Arctic Ocean: facts
• Mexican: recipes (mmm! Rellanos!)
• Brazilian: wax (what?!)
• Irish: names (my son’s name is Jameson.  Guilty.)
• American: idol (sigh.)
• Canadian: exchange rate
• Portuguese: water dog (the hell?!)
• Sri Lankan: airlines

So, great!  That was mildly entertaining!

Search for “How come my…”

• iPod won’t show up on iTunes
• Dog won’t bark when you come around (I had to look this up.  It’s a Dr. John song.  Didn’t know that…)
• Limewire won’t connect (I gotta get my illegal Dr. John songs!)
• Speakers won’t work

This confirms that when we have a problem, it will either involve something with sound, or something with computers.  I have a masters degree in sound and I’m good with computers.  Talk about job security…

Search for “When will…”

• I die
• The world end
• I get my tax refund
• Twilight come out on DVD
• The economy get better

Proving that our deepest fears really are death, taxes, and the Twilight movies.

Then I did this:

“I desperately need:”

• Money
• A job
• To lose weight
• A loan
• To loose weight

Suddenly I realized that this Google auto form thing might be more than just goofy results.  Maybe it could also show us what we truly want and are lacking as a species!  We all want to be richer, more successful, and we want to be good-looking!  …And spelling lessons.  We could use some of those, too, apparently.

Search for “Why doesn’t…”

• He call me?
• He like me?
• He love me?

Why all the He’s? No She’s?

Search for “My husband never…”

• Touches me
• Compliments me
• Says I love you
• Talks to me
• Wants to spend time with me
• Apologizes

Well, come on guys!  Women just want to be loved and told how good they look and smell and act!  They just need time and a little bit of emotion now and then.  That’s not hard, is it?  Now how about the men?  Surely their emotional wounds can be just as easily solved.  What are their crises?

“My girlfriend never…”

• Wants to do anything
• Gives me head
• Pays for anything
• Wants to fool around

….

Oh.  Well, just as easy!  Girls!  All you gotta do is buy us a Big Mac and toss us a blow job and we’ll love you forever!  I guess.

“Will I ever…”

• Get married
• Find love
• Be good enough
• Get a boyfriend
• Get pregnant

Again, we all just want to love and be loved.  Sometimes more than you might think.

“Why does…”

• My eye twitch?
• Salt melt ice?
• Asparagus make urine smell?
• Ice float?
• My dog eat poop?
• Poop float?

See?  We’re all scientists inside!  We’re inquisitive and curious about the universe… and especially our human waste processes.

“Where is…”

• My refund
• Chuck Norris (It’s a google thing.  Search it if you haven’t already, and hit the first link.)
• My state refund
• My stimulus check
• Dubai
• Your appendix

That just sort of speaks for itself.  I think.

But what, as people,  do we really want?

“I want…”

• a baby
• a boyfriend
• a wife
• a divorce

We want love and companionship.  And then we want to be left alone.

What do we need help with?

“I need help with…”

• math
• my homework
• my math homework

Okay, okay.  Yeah.  We totally needed help with our math homework.  But our parents probably did, too.  Math is hard, kids.  Don’t worry, we all suck at it.

I’ll leave this post on one last search, and one that I’ll let you figure out what it all means…

“I need…”

• A job
• Money
• A hobby
• A hero
• You

*lifts drink*

Cheers.