Depression & the Tao of Kenny Powers

[Note: the events of this story took place a week ago on Desperation Day weekend; I've just been busy all week with the move to post this]

I woke up Sunday morning depressed. Not sure why or when exactly it happened seeing as how the last thing I remembered on Saturday night was trying to steal a painting at Zanzibar and subsequently expressing my hatred for the bar through facebook at 11:18 p.m. (yes, both classic Dawson). But something happened between then and me waking up at noon that caused a seismic shift between my outlook and the person I've always strived to be.

Like everyone, I have good days and bad. However, they're mostly good days (bad days to me being solely caused by there being no new How I Met Your Mother on Mondays, wanting Chick-fil-A on Sunday, and when UK gets another good basketball recruit). This may come as a surprise to the many people who think I'm an asshole but when I wake up I'm actually very excited. Even if I have a typical day with nothing new or exciting I still like it because even mundane days are exciting for me.

Sunday was different. Even though it was almost comically warm and sunny outside, I felt detached and grey. I felt both imprisoned by the empty house and averse to leave it, sensing something bad would happen to me. As I lay curled up on the couch watching two douchebag teams (Celtics and Heat) play, I racked my brain for the source of this depression. I was definitely at Zanzibar at 11:20, knew from a receipt found in my jeans that I had been to Molly Malone's, and I sent some texts at 4:15 a.m. about yelling at people for fun and watching Sex and the City (yeah, that text confused me, too***). What happened in that 12 hours between Zanzibar and waking up that caused me to feel so depressed (and no that is not some Dashboard Confessional/Conor Oberst liberal usage of the word depression, this was legit sadness like the video below....except I wasn't crying and Robin Williams wasn't there)

It was if during my blackout stupor, I had discovered a long lost abyss, somewhere in the Highlands (hell it could have been in Ohio, Tennessee or Virginia because we all know I tend to wander while drunk...I'm like an Uruk-hai the way I can cover ground). And in front of this abyss, I sat and stared until every ounce of good will leaked out of my body and all that was left was loneliness, confusion, and alcohol.

Is that overdramatic? Without a doubt. Also vaguely douchey with a smattering of self-importance. But that shouldn't delude the very real fact that Sunday I was the lowest I'd been in a long long time. Even worse I didn't really know the source of this melancholy. During my bender I had unwittingly revealed a long hidden pain that had been buried and pushed to some deep recess of my mind.

And in this gloom I suddenly remembered when one of my role models was at the lowest point in his life.

No, it wasn't Han Solo while frozen in carbonite.

Or Hank Moody after being arrested at the end of season three.

Nor was it Bruce Wayne after the Joker blows up Rachel.

No, not even Barney Stinson after he had the "yips" and couldn't hit on girls.

Or James Bond after Vesper drowns herself.


Nope....it was Kenny Fucking Powers....and he inspired me in ways that would make God blush.




To be continued in "Chapter Two: The Next Chapter"


***So I sent this text out saying "we" so I assumed JC crashed at our house, too, seeing as how he and I had gone drink-for-drink. Turns out he got a ride home earlier that night, so what should I make of the plural? Was someone else with me? Even more odd there was a pair of earrings on the coffee table the next morning that I assumed belonged to AM; however, upon talking to her recently I found out she doesn't even have pierced ears. On top of that, my bed was supremely messed up. When I woke up the next day I just assumed that was from drunk sleep and/or Inception dreams. So either I stole a girl's earrings, pulled a Gollum and started referring to myself as two people and then slept on both sides of my bed...or brought a girl home while being legit blackout drunk for at least four hours. And people say love is dead.

Top 10 Songs of 2010

So I'm not what you call a music blogger, per se (but if you're into that shit check out http://sussudio-oh-oh.blogspot.com/ ). And for most of the year I just listened to Smile:the Best of Nat King Cole (old), Exile on Main Street (older), and Stadium Arcadium (2006)...but occasionally I get the new music bug and 2011 had some amazing music.

(10) "Sometimes" by Miami Horror

Aside from having the best band name ever, Miami Horror just makes solid summer dance music. It's like Daft Punk and the Avalanches had a kid...and that kid wasn't nearly as cool as his parents but will still a solid dude.

(9) "Time" by Hans Zimmer from the Inception Soundtrack

Obviously the most iconic part of the soundtrack is the "BWaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmm" sound when the road all of a sudden curves up but I'm a big fan of the ending song, when Jack Dawson is getting off the airplane and going through the airport. Starting at the 2:30 mark the song gets really good. I also like playing this song while I clean the house or cook; it makes mopping the floors or cutting vegetables seem like an epic and dangerous task.

(8)"Diplomat's Son" by Vampire Weekend

Easily my favorite song from VW's second album and probably tied with "Walcott" and "M79" as my favorite VW song. I drove around Oldham county with sun roof open and windows down listening to this song on repeat. Definitely makes me want to be a fucked up rich kid who vacations in the Northeast on the summer AKA a Kennedy.

(7) "Tell 'Em" by Sleigh Bells

How can you not get pumped after hearing this song!? If Tom Brady had listened to this before the Pats playoff game we would have a Patriots/Bears Super Bowl (yeah Brady getting pumped for that game has no effect on the Bears beating the Packers but a guy can dream, right?"

(6) "I Just Had Sex" by the Lonely Island --

"i think she was a racist / doesnt matter i had sex" enough said

(5) "Dancing On My Own" by Robyn

As anyone that has ever lived with me knows, I am a sucker for poppy dance music and Robyn is replacing Lady Gaga and Madonna as my favorite. She is pretty big everywhere aside from the U.S. but that will change this year. Also this is the first time I have seen the music video...not the biggest fan but I am totally stealing her drum move at the 2:42 mark as my go-to dance move.

(4) "Derezzed" by Daft Punk

I was a big fan of the movie but the music made it a million times better. Listen to this album the next time you're on an elliptical or treadmill and it transforms your workout into something amazing. Running to this soundtrack is better than most sex [side note: not really sure if this poorly reflects my love life/sexual prowess or just makes me sound like a nerd....leaning towards both]

(3) "Sorrow" by the National

Tim insisted we see the National while at Bonnaroo and I've been absolutely hooked since then. They're like the Smiths except the the singer is actually good and he has a last name. Just kidding. Not really, the Smiths are about as overrated as the American version of the Office. But back to the Nationals. This song has slowly replaced "Mr. November" as my favorite National song...I don't know if it is because I completely relate to it or because it slowly crescendos but the payoff is more emotional than a giant sonic climax or what. But beautiful and haunting and oddly upbeat if you are a hopeless romantic.

(2) "All Of The Lights" by Kanye West

I love everything about this song. And the first time I heard it I thought MJ referred to Michael Jordan...yeah, I'm dumb.

(1) "Lost In The World" by Kanye West and Bon Iver

Yes I can have the top two songs be from the same album. Especially when it's the best album of the year (even the twats at pitchforkmedia thought so, too). When I first read that Bon Iver was going to be on the new Kanye album I was intrigued, confused, and excited. But the result is better than I could have imagined. I think starting at 2:22 is so beautiful and reflective and that's something you can't often say about Kanye's music. During the snow storms I'd drive around the Highlands listening to this song on repeat and the imagery outside mixed with the narrative of the story was...well...cool for lack of a better word. And to think our president called him a jackass.

First Stream of Consciousness of 2011

I'm 26! good fucking lord. 25 gave some comfort, knowing you were still in the first quarter of your life. the first season. spring? although who the hell wants to live until 100? but 26....its like that time of the night when you realize the bar closes in three hours. knowing that sense of finality makes the drinks weaker, the music louder and the girls less appealing.

speaking of girls, is it possible that a guy can have daddy's issues over a girl? like when a girl never feels love and affection from a father, that sense of inadequacy manifests itself into a rigorous desire to prove themselves to the father and gain his love...or the attention of other guys (daddy issues, along with alcohol and the notebook DVD do account for 92% of all hookups) to compensate for the lack of love and attention that they truly crave and believe they need to feel in order to be complete. but is it possible for a guy to have daddy issues over an old lover? having the desire and need to feel loved by the person that never did love you. i've been hurt worse before but this need to prove myself to a girl is infinitely more frustrating...i can't tell if it's pathetic or romantically competitive.

inception is one of those movies that is only good on even numbered viewings. i didn't like it the first time i saw it, loved it the second time i saw it, didnt like it the third time i saw it, liked it the forth time. so its basically like sex in the shower.

i just got a text saying "have you seen the new poptart commercial? bc you look like the kid in it." apparently the commercial was played during the bachelor. why doesnt ir surprise me that they advertise breakfast pastries featuring manboys that look like me during the bachelor?

i should be on the bachelor.

bukowski once said "what matters most is how well you walk through the fire" i totally agree with that but i think drowning would be a better metaphor bc you can't stop drop and roll.

i was bored at work so i signed up for okcupid....its basically facebook for lonely people. there's also a lot of fat girls. the first time i signed on it was like being in a manatee convention and all their profile pics were windows at a manatee aquarium.

that was mean. but thats honestly what i thought.

i need to write more. this is a good start.

INCEPTION: THE PORNO

So Thursday at lunch, I'm on the eliptical listening to my work-out playlist when a song from the "Inception" soundtrack comes on. Immediately (and naturally), I started thinking about what the porn version of Inception would be like. I thought about it for so long I spent ten more minutes on the eliptical than I normally would have! Who says burning calories is boring?

• Obviously the title would be "Insertion" in America and "Insemenation" abroad.


• The plot of the movie would be this: one of the most powerful CEOs in the country hires the Inception crew to turn his daughter (who is a lesbian) into a heterosexual. To do this they are going to enter her dreams, through some mix of technology and drug that is never fully explained, and implant the idea that she should like dudes. But since the mind is so tricky they have to do it in a wet dream within a wet dream within a wet dream.


• Since all the action takes place in a dream, there is no real stakes/tension to all that is going on. So to counter the fact that you don't give a damn that they can't get hurt, I'm going to add some form of emotional investment : the main character Cock, (Leo's character is named Cobb...what else would I pick) wants to get back into the US of A to see his children (just so he can say "I just want my kids back" a la Tom Jane in Arrested Development). The reason he can't enter is because the FBI thinks he killed his wife. You see, Cock and his wife kept doing it in the dream world. They did it there so much, that the dream world and the real world blurred together and the wife realized she left the oven on in the kitchen. She needed to wake up, but Cock was distracted and couldn't make her come. The only other way to wake up from a dream is to die, so she jumped out the window. Turns out she wasn't in the dream. Because of his penis' failure to deliver, Cock blames himself for his wife's death. However, the powerful CEO promises Cock that he will erase the charges against him, as long as he can turn his daughter straight....INSERTION!
  
• Rather than the subconscious being a bunch of people attacking the protagonists, the subconscious is a bunch of people trying to have sex with the protagonists!


• The dead wife keeps popping up in the dreams because she's a part of Cock's subconsious; she keeps trying to bang him but if he submits then he'll wake up and never see his kids. In the wet dream within the wet dream within the wet dream he gets rid of her by faking an orgasm.


• The gravity-free/rotating hallway fight scene becomes a gravity-free/rotating hallway sex scene.


• That annoying bitch from Juno isn't an architect but a lingerie-designer.


• One of the characters has a premature ejaculation problem so everyone on the team is like "You can't do this mission; you'll only last a second and that will jeapardize us!" and he's like "Don't worry. I got this." And to do that he get's drunk.


• The identity-forger dude turns into Rosie O'Donnel in one of the dreams, to scare the lesbian into becoming straight. That sex scene will be gratiously eliminated from the movie.


• Inception was in IMAX....so will Insertion.


• The movie ends with Cock in the wet dream within a wetdream within a wetdream. He fakes the orgasm with his wife (eliminating her as the antagonist) and then finds the CEO's daughter and gives it to her so hard and well that the idea she should be straight is incepted in her mind. Also, she comes at the same time as the car in the first wet dream hits the water and the hotel room dropping in the second dream. Try that for dramatic montage/climaxes!

Best idea ever! I know! And you're welcome.

Lady Gaga at Lolla / Bonnaroo Flashbacks

So last Friday I went to Lollapalooza. While walking around Grant Park I experienced two Bonnaroo flashbacks:

• There's nothing scarier than being drunk at night and trying to walk through drug-induced girls who are dancing via the use of hula hoops. I remember Tim and I having two manuever through some during Stevie Wonder and I was positively terrified; it was like when Sean Connery had to go through the boiler in "The Rock"...except the stakes were higher at Bonnaroo.
• Chris was blown away by how many girls were at Lolla. I agreed and pointed out that at Bonnaroo they were less clothed (sometimes even naked) and actually of age. Which made assimilating back into real life even more difficult becuase I would walk down Bardstown Road and pass girls and think "why aren't they in bikinis and slurring their words?!" It also lead to constant cleavage withdrawal.

Speaking of Lollapalooza, Lady Gaga performed. To say he/she was awful would be an understatement. I could go into detail about the set list, the long breaks between songs, the "skits" that would make most mentally-challenged people read like Shakespeare, and her attempt to inspire the crowd, but I think I can summarize all that by saying this: Lady Gaga was so bad, her live performance should replace baseball as the thing that guys think of when they don't want to come yet. Just typing that has probably delayed my orgasms for the next decade. Gaga is many things, but boring as hell shouldn't be one of them

Also, apparently she is celibate because she thinks if she sleeps with a man he will steal her creativity through her vagina. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Everyone knows only men can be creative. And the real reason is because she doesn't want anyone to discover her penis.

Tim and Me VS. Bonnaroo

Alternate titles: : Pilgrims in an Unholy Land and What I remember.

We woke up in Nashville at 6:00. It was the fastest I've seen Tim gone from sleepy/confused to excited back to sleepy/confused, although I'm sure it happens quite often when he has female company over.

All the gas stations were crowded with hippies except (shocker!) BP. It sucks what happens in the gulf...but not as much as it sucks being behind a bunch of hippies at a gas station. We pull into BP, fill up, get coffee and 8 bags of ice, and leave before the hippies at the Shell can even pull their cards out of their hemp wallets.

We hit Bonnaroo traffic around 7:20 or so. To establish myself as Alpha male, I throw on my Lakers/Fletch jersey (despite being warned by a Miss Abbe Wright that wearing jerseys at Bonnaroo is silly and unbecoming). The guys behind us notice my jersey and say they love Fletch. They are not hippies; they have a super hot blonde friend with them. I decide Bonnaroo is going to be alright after all.

Tim: "The girl driver in front of us is kinda hot." I look ahead to see the back of a brunette's head as she looks out the window. In my mind she looks like Alanis Morisette without the Canadianess. She turns around and has a soul patch. She is a he, and he looks like a mixture between Milhouse from the Simpsons and Anthoney Keidis (the RHCP singer) I immediately make fun of Tim and refer to the guy as "Tim's girlfriend" despite the fact I had thought it was a girl, too. In hindsight, the fact that their car had "boobs" written across the back should have been a giveaway that there would not be many females in the car.

Me: "There needs to be a word to describe guys that look like girls from the back"

Tim: "There is, it's called being a hipster."

It was around this time that we ran into a group that would terrorize us throughout the weekend...a despicable group that we would refer to as our "nemesises."

You see, Tim's girlfriend had a few friends in his/her car and they were with the group in the car in front of them. While stuck in traffic, one guy from the boobs car walks out and tries to haul one of those giant orange parking things into the car. He has a Jay Leno chin and a Bob Marley shirt on. I hate Jay Leno and reggae. I decide he must accidentally get hit by my car.

Then I remember all the advice I received about Bonnaroo...and by all the advice I mean everyone basically saying "Dawson, as a hippy-hating Republican with a Darcy-like social superiority you can't be rude to the dumb liberals just because all the weed they've smoked has destroyed their brains and turned them into smelly, anti-corporationy sycophants who'd fellate Obama if giving the chance." (At least that's what I assume people told me....I was too busy thinking about cleavage, speedboats, rum and/or when the lightsaber will finally be invented). To fight the urge to be myself (i.e. awesome!) I decided to embrace my inner-Matthew McConaughey: relaxed, chill, and not likely to bitchslap a white guy who likes reggae.

[Side Note 1: Tim recommended I should just act like Paul Rudd's character Kunu in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" and to drive that recommendation home we did a shit ton of Kunu-quoting; the most frequent being "the more you do, the less you do" , "aw man you've got coral in your leg" , "hey look man if you get your leg bitten off by a shark are you gonna quit surfing?" and the mother of all Kunu quotes "Okay Monster Man!" No lie..."monster man" was said an average of 28 times a day. And that's a true statistic.]

[Side Note 2: Speaking of the deity known as McConaughey, I promise to finally put in writing my Tao of McConaughey that I've been bragging about for two years. Unless I got tired of this blog, and then you all have to wait for the book.]

I took a deep breath and ignored Leno chin....then two other guys exited the car. One was the size of a VW Bug (which explained why the car was so low to the ground), wore a purple t-shirt that probaly could have clothed a family of six, and gym shorts (not because he went to the gym frequently but because elastic is the only way he can get those torso-sized legs through a pair of shorts). He walks past and cordially (to his only defense) offers us a toke (I think that's how you spell that word, I don't speak pothead) of his joint. I don't smoke but even if I did I wouldn't have taken a hit, because anything coming from his mouth probably reeked of KFC. With the purple shirt on this guy looked like the offspring of Barney the Dinosaur fucking Harry Knowles (google his image for a laugh/fright).

Jabba's friend was roughly half his weight...so he was still really fat. Also, he was topless and had dreadlocks....a trifecta of pure awfulness. He, too, was smoking weed in public. You could probably take a picture of these two guys and it would be an effective anti-drug poster. If there was a God he (yes, in my world God is a he...he's also asian) would have thrown a boulder on the car. The only good thing about them was watching them try to run and catch up with the car when traffic moved quickly.

Anyway, Tim and I spent a good three hours ripping these people from the privacy of our car. We kept bumping into them throughout the weekend; seeing them in a crowd was awful...it was like being the Jews in the basement at the beginning of "Inglorious Basterds" (am I going to hell for that comment? What? I'm already going? Okay). The best part is, Tim and I freaked out everytime we saw them and I'm sure everytime they saw us they were like "Hey, it's those guys that were in traffic behind us. They seem pretty nice."

After miles and miles of country back roads we finally got to the entrance. Pulling up, one of the Bonnaroo staff asked us if we had any illegal materials in our car. We both said no and realized we were probably the only people there that could have honestly said "no" to that question (who says being an alcoholic isn't honorable?).

Once we arrived at our parking/camping spot we sent up the tent (which I'm proud to say covered our area, a good portion of the people to our left's area and almost 3/4 of the people to our right's area; that may sound bad but I read in prison you need to immediately display your dominance....that and my tent is badass).

With our Four Seasons of a tent set up, Tim and I sat out on our front porch (yes, the tent has a front porch...also the tent's name is Cougar! Ha! I should probably set it up outside of Jimmy Porter's one night) and had a beer. Then we had another beer. Had another beer. Had a Long Island Iced Tea. Had another beer. Debated between another beer or a road beer, before settling on both, and then headed out into the wild world of Bonnaroo.

And this is what I recall.

• Lots of girls walked around topless the whole time. But none of them were attractive. That is so not Raven.
  
• Best live act: Jay-Z. I don't like rap and I was sober and it was freaking amazing. His two hour set went by in what felt like half an hour.
  
• 2nd best live acts : Local Natives, the National, Stevie Wonder.


• Best song: Weezer did a combination cover of MGMT's "Kids" and "Poker Face" by Gaga; it shouldn't have worked but it did.


• I discovered that one of my superpowers [the others being drunk-speed and Wolverine-style fast-healing (as displayed by my speedy recovery from the body injuries sustained as a result of Free Vodka Hour at Rock Bar)] is the ability to get through any crowd to the front of the stage. I'm the Michael Jordon of crowd-navigating. And I'm not a one weekend wonder in this department; I've showcased it at Downs after Dark and Forecastle Fest....hire me...it will cost you one beer an hour.
  
• I also discovered Tim has a slight fear of horses, which (in addition to being flat out hilarious) lead to this conversation

Me: "I wonder what it was like when the first human being decided to get on top of a horse."

Tim: "Yeah. 'Hey, there's a wild animal....let's go jump on it."

Me: "I kinda want a time machine just so I can go back in time and see that."

• Which led to this conversation, and by conversation I mean I talked out loud and Tim may or may not have been paying attention.

Me: "That would be a kickass show. Me going back in time and seeing stuff for the first time. Me going back and seeing the first time someone got on a horse. Or me going back and finding the first white guy to put his hair into dreadlocks."

Tim: "And then you punch him."

Me: "Hahaha. Me going back in time and punching people who do things for the first time. Best show ever."

• Since it takes me a long time to get drunk my weapon of choice over that weekend was the Long Island Iced Tea, which Tim and I agreed would make another cool go back in time episode to see how the first Long Island Iced Tea was invented. Because it had to have been a guy with vodka, rum, gin, tequila, and coke, wondering what to make before saying "ah fuck it" and throwing them all into one cup. I salute that man.


• This one time...at the beer tent, Tim bought two beers for me and him and I did the same accidentally. We double fisted them and then proceeded to drink in this manner the rest of Bonnaroo.


• Kings of Leon and Flaming Lips (covering Dark Side of the Moon - hell yeah!) were playing on the same night. While pregaming for Kings, Tim and I got in an argument about who the villian should be in the next Batman. We kept arguing and drinking when, from a distance, we heard Kings starting their set. We never did make it but I don't really regret it (accept for when I heard them do the cover for that Pixies song in "Fight Club" which sounded amazing). I can see Kings live whenever I want, but the times Tim and I can bullshit about movies while drinking in Tennessee is probably limited to seven times. And yes, we made if for Flaming Lips and they were awesome (aside from Wayne Coyne's cliche political rantings which he says verbatim at every Lips show I've seen; I guess all his creativeness just went to music and not political ranting).
• One day I survived off only Long Island Iced Teas and Gyros.


• We brought a box of Franzia and then forgot about it. The week after I remembered we had it the whole time and relayed me disappointment to Tim who said "miffmurray@gmail.com: we could lose a whole day to slaping a bag of chilled wine, walking around campgrounds." Next year, Bonnaroo, next year...


• The night of the Kid Cudi concert is arguably the greatest tragedy ever. I won't repeat what happened but it involved a blonde Canadian, a puddle, Tim and I almost dying, and Gyros. It's like the Hamlet of sad music festival stories.


• Bonnaroo ended with Dave Matthews Band. How awful is that? I have nothing against Mr. Matthews, his music was awesome to make out to in the back of cars in high school, but to end Bonnaroo?! That's like ending your honeymoon with a handjob. A long....drawn out....painful....hand job.

In conclusion, Bonnaroo shouldn't have been fun for me (I hate live music, humidity, hippies, and not showering three times a day) but I had an amazing time. I think getting out of your comfort zone every now and then can be therapeutic and fun (that's why Bear Grylls is always happy). Also, having Tim Murray and a GINORMOUS (that's an actual word that means big enough to fit two dead hookers into) cooler stocked with booze helps, too.

This February when they announce the lineup for Bonnaroo 2011 I'll start recruiting more people to go because it was amazing. And because Tim and I need to use our experience from this year's to make next year's even better.

Like after Tim pointed out we could have played slap the bag with the Franzia:

me: "WHY DIDNT WE THINK TO DO THAT! be one of the top ten regrets of my life"

tim: "hahahaaaa this was our bonnaroo trial run think of it that way"

me: "bonnaroo begins"

tim: "yes"

me: "next year: the dark weekend"

tim: "thats a bingo"

2011 Bonnaroo can't come fast enough.

Blog Begins

Well I'm not one for introductions, so I'll be mercifully brief. The whole blog thing might be "so-2006" and adding yet another blog might be like opening a fast food restaurant in Texas (there's already too many, just makes people fat, makes the rest of the world hate America even more), but I digress. I have a brain (or so I've been told), a big mouth, tons of opinions and a unique perspective on life, not to mention a group of friends who have provided me with a wealth of hilarious stories full of mischief, drama, and all around epicness. So rather than repeat a story, opinion, or life lesson to my friends I can now simply point to this blog. What's the worst that can happen? People can know my stance on Avatar, Twilight, and Dave Matthews sucking. What's the best that can happen? My half serious, half silly, completely amused approach to life and love will make me the male Carrie Bradshaw....only more clever and with a face that doesn't look like Eight Belle's after she faceplanted into the turf.

Also, a head's up to my friends. This thing is definitely going to make me pull the Barney Stinson "haven't you been reading my blog?" comment an average of 2.7 times a week. Don't hate me.