Tag Archives: confessional

Tumblr Rededication

Some­times I read my posts here and I think I come across as hav­ing my head up in the clouds or some­where else. If you know me, you know that’s not me, at least not com­pletely. But what am I to do? I’m blog­ging with a pur­pose (“Pur­pose Dri­ven Blog­ging”). I ago­nize over pop cul­ture

Rebels All!

I was angry when I down­loaded Kevin Mattson’s Rebels All!: A Short His­tory of the Con­ser­v­a­tive Mind to my Kin­dle. That’s why I bought the book; I was mad, sick of the nev­erend­ing onslaught of hate­ful email for­wards from loved ones, the nasty sta­tus updates by Face­book friends, the bumper stick­ers, the t-shirts, the cable

baptism & making lists

I pushed “Pub­lish” and the second-guessing began. I feel this dread­ful sense of regret every year when I put my top ten list out there, an angsty anx­i­ety, an inse­cu­rity, as if it mat­tered. I react as if it mat­ters because I guess I believe it does, in a way. I did say that a

on list making

For most Amer­i­cans, Decem­ber means Christ­mas shop­ping, hol­i­day plan­ning, snow shov­el­ing (curses!), fam­ily vis­it­ing, and so forth. For the musi­cally snob­bish among us, there is some­thing else that adds to our Decem­ber stress/S.A.D.: list mak­ing. With every­thing else going on, maybe there’s some relief in point­ing one’s stress toward the issue of deter­min­ing the sev­enth

A Manifesto, Pt. 2

…or, Why Do We Take This So Per­son­ally?… Nor­mally, I’ll be writ­ing about music (although I’ll write about other stuff, like books, TV, what­ever, etc.) and I’ll be writ­ing about it with regard to some album, artist, song, or con­cert in par­tic­u­lar.  But today I want to take a more gen­eral look at why we

Pavement Live/A Manifesto, Pt. 1

Pave­ment broke up 11 years ago.  I’d never seen them live, and, in fact, I was pretty late to the party, hav­ing only dis­cov­ered them in ’98, six years and four albums into their career.  It was 1998 when I bought Slanted and Enchanted, but it may as well have been ’92, and I may