Last weekend I traveled to my hometown to reunite with two of my very oldest friends, Tamara and Crystal. We were thick as thieves in high school (with bouts of adolescent spattiness throughout our friendships, of course), and then went our separate ways after graduation. Tamara and I — with the exception of some months of no communication because we are sometimes stubborn, foolish girls — have mostly kept in constant contact, but I lost…
Amanda Palmer + high school drama kids + Neutral Milk Hotel = Um, is that Shia LeBeouf in there as the humble emcee? (And how awesome is it that I spelled “LeBeouf” correctly on my first try?) My senior class play was Cheaper By the Dozen, I think, and I don’t remember a frigging thing about it. If I went to this high school, I would not forget this show for a long, long time.…
So it’s not quite as easy on the eardrums as the far more common fifth-of-November trope, but everyone remembers the fifth of November. Why can’t the ninth of January get a little love? Sure, it exists in that no man’s land between New Year’s Day and Valentine’s Day, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. In the sense that every day you’re not dead is important, I guess. I figure anyone’s life can be judged…
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