Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Built to Spill. I’ve loved that band for years but for some reason recently their sound fits neatly into my life in ways it did when I first really got into them. I used to steal all kinds of their lyrics for blog post titles back in 2003 or so. There is something about their music and Doug Martsch’s voice that will always remind me of my…
So I’m rifling through every single thing I own, trying to toss what’s expendable and pack what’s not. I came upon my stack of Collages, dating back to the mid-’90s (working in what used to be the Student Publications office had many perks, one of which was access to back issues), and instantly remembered these two poems from the Fall 1997 edition that I’d fallen in love with when I encountered them back in 2001…
Old and busted: Sitting in my parents’ office in the squeaky desk chair, craning my neck upward to look at the monitor, cussing heartily at the plodding pace of their ancient Dell. The new hotness: Doing my nightly websurfing ritual sitting cross-legged on their couch with a laptop warming my crotch and a sleeping Daschund next to me. I made a whirlwind trip to Murfreesboro yesterday to celebrate an old friend’s emancipation from the ‘Boro…
[for Saturday, Sept. 1] Coxynoodlenose (okay, where did that nickname come from?) came back to the ‘Boro for some face time over the weekend. We whooped it up at the Campus Pub, which is a seedy little joint on Greenland that offers dollar beers and a foosball table lit by a billiard lamp shaped like a NASCAR car. I don’t remember too much, except for being my usual obnoxious drunk self, and finding someone’s phone…
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