cliches that don't rhyme

when reminiscing about your childhood, the key is to try to remember things you don't have pictures of--it's much more difficult, but you feel a lot better about it once you're there. true, it is fun and interesting to remember things that have some picture reminding you of the event, but all too often i feel like those memories are more of the picture than of the place--it's almost like telling a story really--once you've told a version of the experience, you remember telling the story a certain way, more so than the experience itself.

some of my strongest memories of growing up in an expanding neighborhood (no more vacant lots on my block any more) are of the huge dirt piles that were made behind the houses, when the basements were dug and the foundations were put in. these were the urban wilds my brothers and i cherished (along with the foundations and framed houses themselves). we would dig holes, make forts, play king of the mountain (and yes, i fell down more than my share of times), and even sled down the mounds if they lasted into winter. the house which shares a backyard with my own seems like it's been there forever--most of my memories of the backyard come after the house was there, most of my time playing soccer, tag, and baseball (along with the more imaginative games too involved to describe here) came after the house was there and the dirt mound cleared out.

yet a vivid memory i have, a foolish memory really, involves this dirt mound in our backyard, before it was moved back to fill and landscape the yard there. my mother's college roommate and her family were visiting (i didn't really know who they were, or what connection they had to us, but they seemed nice so i spent time hanging around with them--i've now been on the other side of this experience, spending time with kids who probably don't understand who i am or why i'm visiting their family, who i am at all really).

the former roommate had a grown son, probably as old as my older brothers, but he was a lot nicer to me than they were so i liked him. and he had this squishy watery-balloon type toy that was fun to throw and catch--it had tougher rubber skin than water balloons, but was squishy and yellow like them (my favorite color at the time). and we went out on the dirt mound and played some games--mostly king of the mountain this particular time, which i wasn't very good at, being the smallest, but i did give them trouble because i didn't care if they threw me down the mountain--i'd climb right back up. usually i never won such a game because by the time i managed to be the only one on top of the hill, the others had stopped playing and i had been left alone (i had a longer attention span i guess).

and that's most of the vivid memory--i could describe what the day looked like, the smell of the dirt, the feel on my continually-bare feet of black top soil packed into chunks i would sometimes break, pretending i was strong enough to break rocks--sometimes i would do this for hours on end (or when visiting my grandparents, i would spend hours digging up a single rock embedded in their gravel driveway because i liked rocks so much and thought this was a good one). i could describe the view of the sparsely settled neighborhood on the south side a small south dakotan town--a view from the mound, like the view from our roof one of the best views available since they weren't good climbing trees at this house, not yet--i always had to climb trees at my grandparents' farm, but there i exercised this chance wholeheartedly.

i could describe how young i felt, how willing i was to look up to older people who seemed friendly, who seemed to care because my brothers were always competing with me (and usually winning) or beating me up or making fun of me for being dumber than they were. it wasn't a bad life, and i'm pretty sure it's a pretty normal life for anyone who happens to be the third of four boys. and it was my life, and it was good.

and more than anything, i know it was never captured on any camera ever, my normal, everyday times in the backyard, my little standout moments when some little toy or person made a special guest appearance in my life for an hour or two when i was five. so i try to hold out for those memories, to fish for them in my slightly grownup head.

below is my october 2006 playlist. i admit that it isn't as unified or purposeful as some of my previous lists, i do like it for its diversity, both in terms of style and in terms of the songs' relevance at various times in my life (from we are the champions--a song i would turn on with my parents 8-track player back when i was four years old--to songs from high school, college, and the last week or so).

not an addict by k's choice
friday i'm in love by the cure
sunny road by emiliana torrini
smart went crazy by atmosphere
high hopes by pink floyd
the world's not falling apart by dar williams
to be young by ryan adams
popular mechanics for lovers by beulah
on the radio by regina spektor
long way down by guster
hubris by rebels victorious
how it should be by ben kweller
the beauty of the rain by dar williams
we are the champions by queen
sunset soon forgotten by iron & wine
because the night by 10,000 maniacs
untitled one by sigur ros
alien by bush

i admit that the playlist doesn't make as much sense as many of my past lists, but it's what i put together this month. enjoy. and if you're into love songs or beulah or the magnetic fields, you'll be interested in this song. when i'm feeling whimsical, i describe the band as post-ska, driving-cross-country music. they're fun and often have a groove/pulse to their music i like for traveling.

it also reminds me of another of my crazy, but in this case i think good, ideas--to release an album called exit 69 love songs. the reference, like the one in this song, is to the magnetic fields' album. but it's also a reference to northfield, the town where i went to college, where both saint olaf and carleton students live. i haven't quite decided how to position the album--whether it should be love songs written by bands/people living in northfield, or perhaps covers of magnetic fields songs played by people from wherever benefiting something in northfield. i haven't decided yet, but for all you people with connections to any of these topics, you should email me (or post a comment) and let me know--i might try to make it happen this spring--we'll see.

but here's the song by beulah--it's probably one of my favorite songs that references other good music in the lyrics--they don't come along all that often, but they're usually successful when they do make such references.

popular mechanics for lovers by beulah

I know he knocks you off your feet
You’re so bitter; you think he’s sweet
Well he’s wrong for you, I swear

Did you forget to read the script?
There was never a role for him
It was always you and me, just me

Popular mechanics for broken hearts could help me now

I know you never felt romance
And we always lack suspense
I can edit those parts out

I never made you feel complete
I would fall beneath your feet
I would never bring you down, so down

Popular mechanics for broken hearts could help me now

Just because he loves you too
He would never take a bullet for you
Don’t believe a word he says
He would never cut his heart out for you

I heard he wrote you a song
But so what
Some guy wrote 69
And one just ain’t enough

And there’s so sense in trying
I know cuz I’ve been
Trying all the time to find something that would make you mine
But all I ever find my love
Are clichés that don’t rhyme

Popular mechanics for broken hearts could help me now

Just because he loves you too
He would never take a bullet for you
Don’t believe a word he says
He would never cut his heart out for you