Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Michael
I gotta go to Old Orchard after work, do you wanna go to Old Orchard with me?

Bryan
Michael, why do you have to go to Old Orchard?

Michael
Wow, are you offended?

Bryan
Yeah, it sounds like I'm really angry that you're going there.

Michael
Like it's, "Michael, I wanna go to the Pot Luck, not Old Orchard."

Bryan
Wait, is there a Pot Luck?

Michael
No.

Bryan
$*&% You.

15 Albums!

Think of 15 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world. When you finish, tag 15 others, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill...

The challenge is: do this in 15 minutes, as if nobody's judging your answers.

I left the short version on my Facebook page. This is the long version.

1. Radiohead OK Computer

I honestly didn't hear OK Computer until it had been out for a few years. In high school I was only interested in hip-hop music, and Radiohead (or anything else) simply wasn't on my radar. But when my friends came over to my house and forced me to listen to this record, everything changed. OK Computer was like my passport into a larger musical world and nearly all of my current tastes stem from this album.

1. Common Sense Resurrection (tie)

I am among the many so called "backpackers" who are of the mind that hip-hop music achieved perfection in the "golden era," which I narrowly define as 1992-1995. I was just becoming a teenager during those years, and perhaps the first album I ever loved was Resurrection by Common Sense. As an adult, I point to specific lyrics and concepts and things to support my claim that this is one of the greatest hip-hop records of all time. As a 13 year old, I loved the similes, humor, and distinct absence of pretense (although I wouldn't have called it that) that Comm' Sense brought to his unmatched classic.

3. Gang Starr Daily Operation

I got my first CD player when I was 14 years old, in the summer of 1995. Before then, I was listening to my brother's cassette collection one album at a time. When I went to Best Buy to purchase my first batch of low-cost CD's, this was among them (along with Resurrection). Gang Starr was always among my favorite groups, but my appreciation and obsession with this record has grown steadily over time.

4. The Boogie Monsters The Riders of the Storm

Of those first, identity-defining albums, Riders of the Storm holds a special place in my heart. Criminally slept-on, The Boogiemonster's debut is the record that captures the spring of 1995 in my memory.

5. The Veils The Runaway Found / Nux Vomica

I cannot separate the two records (thus far) by the Veils because my discovery and subsequent obsession with one bled into the release of the second. "The Valleys of New Orleans" was the first song I ever heard by the Veils, a story I tell in a past blog, and The Runaway Found became one of my favorite records. I was fortunate enough to discover this gem of a band a few short months before the release of Nux Vomica, a record even more powerful and beautiful than their debut. The combined effect of these two records has created a lasting obsession which has only been mildly and temporarily put on hold by releases from lesser-artists. With their third album Sun Gangs on the way, I doubt I'll be hearing many other artists for a while.

6. Spiritualized Let it Come Down

The first of my post-Radiohead obsessions, my love for Spiritualized is outmatched only by The Veils and those five ugly nerds from Oxford. There are over 100 musicians featured on this album full of grand orchestrations, blaring trumpets, and gratuitous gospel choirs, and I love every minute of it.

7. Outkast Aquemini

In the summer leading up to my senior year in high school, I was so desperate to hear a new verse from Andre Benjamin that I took a few days to search all of the used record stores in my area for copies of the Higher Learning, Money Talks, and Soul Food soundtracks because they all included songs by Outkast. "Rosa Parks" had yet to hit the radio, the video wasn't out yet, but they had performed it on some BET concert program, and I was wise enough to tape it. When school resumed, I would sit in art class going, "Ah Ha, Hush that fuss, everybody move to the back of the bus..." annoying the hell out of my friend, Big Don. When Aquemini was finally released, it was on the same day as Black Star's debut, A Tribe Called Quest's final album, and Foundation by a reunited Brand Nubian - but this is the one I listened to. To this day, I can't help thinking about my senior year of high school and the summer that followed when I hear this album.

8. Doves Some Cities

I wasn't a huge fan of Doves when this album was released, but my girlfriend at the time was. When I heard "Black and White Town" for the first time I liked it, and was inspired to buy this album upon its release. I didn't listen to anything else for the next 3 or 4 months, and if I did, it was one of the Doves' other albums. This album became my theme music when I made the leap and moved to Chicago in 2005. Doves' new album, Kingdom of Rust may have a similar connotation this summer...

9. Erykah Badu Mama's Gun

I don't know what I was thinking: when I heard that the radio version of "Bag Lady" was not going to be included on Mama's Gun I was livid. Of course, at the time, I was still listening exclusively to hip-hop music, and the souled-out, jazzier version of the song wasn't as dope to me as Erykah doing her thing over the beat she jacked from Dr. Dre. But when me and my main man Lew saw Erykah from the front row in the Fox, Mama's Gun came to life for me. It was like I had never heard a single note before I saw it performed in front of me. I couldn't stop listening to this album for months after that, and it remains one of my all time favorites.

10. The National Boxer

The newest album on this list, Boxer is a record I'm still having trouble putting down, even after a year and a half. Of course, it took me months of persistent listening for it to get its claws in me, but now that they're in, I fear I'll never be rid of them, and for the rest of my life I'll hear a deep, patient voice in the back of my head singing, "brainy brainy brainy..."

11. Sigur Ros ()

Sigur Ros in 2002 was an admittidly difficult band to get into. The distinctly lighter fare of their subsequent releases was sitting a few years on the horizon. Instead, they dropped an album with no name, no lyrics, and 8 tracks distinguished only by numbers. The seemingly contradictory notion of something being so moving on an emotional level while also being meaningless on a literal level was so damn compelling to me that I couldn't do much at all without listening to this album. I think it made me crazy for a while, but you'd have to ask the people that know me whether that's true or not.

12. Outkast Southernplayalistic...

The third album on this list from 1994, Outkast's debut was one of those initial records that inspired my love for hip-hop music. That this album is at number 12 on the list should say more about the fraction of a hair's width that lies between each of these choices than it does about this record's place in my heart. In the fall of 1994, riding around in my mother's Toyota with my brother and some friends, this cassette saw more attention than any other. Just like Aquemini defined my senior year, Southernplayalistic defined 8th and 9th grade.

13. Mos Def Black on Both Sides

In October of 1999 Mos Def was one of the most hyped artists in the hip-hop world. Backpackers loved the Black Star album, he had released a few underground singles and made a couple of memorable appearances on a few albums and compilations. But none of those things prepared me for this. From the opening verse on "Hip-Hop" I knew that this was a different Mos Def from the one we had all heard before. In an age where so many artists become victims of their own ambition, Black on Both Sides is the rare example of a hip-hop artist exceeding expectations as well as his own potential. I remember the rainy Friday when Nick Speed and I drove over to Chauncey's Records on 6 Mile to buy it 4 days early, and then were tortured because my car didn't have a CD player. Few hip-hop albums since then have even come close to matching this one.

14. O.C. Jewelz

I have a lot of great memories from the summer of 1997: my brother and I arguing over games of Risk while eating Vito's pizza and drinking Faygo Moon Mist, working mornings at Hollywood Video while arguing about hip-hop music with my boss, Ramon, and listening to Jewelz. I would never venture to call O.C. my favorite rapper, but this album is a slept-on classic, and one that stayed in the deck all summer.

15. Elbow Cast of Thousands

Back in 2005 I had a subscription to Q Magazine. They included a CD in one of the later issues from that year that included a great song called "Great Expectations" by Elbow. One snowy night in November I was bored out of my mind and found myself in Best Buy, browsing for any CD or DVD that would entertain me for the next few nights or so. I decided to look for that Elbow CD with the song I liked on it, but all I found was Cast of Thousands. I played this thing to death. It was a natural progression from my Doves obsession, and introduced me to a number of songs that are among my favorites today. I would eventually purchase the album I was looking for, Leaders of the Free World, but this one holds a special place in my heart.

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Bryan and Naheed are having a conversation. Michael works, as he should be.

Michael
Wait, wait. Are you guys saying he likes to be "late," or "laid?"

Bryan
GOD! Michael! That's the worst thing you've said in weeks!

Bryan laughs. Naheed continues to talk.

Michael
Well, hold on, which is it?

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Michael sits alone at his desk, surrounded by a mountain of invoices.


Michael
Bryan?

He waits, there is no response.

Michael
Bryan? Naheed?

Again, there is nothing. Michael is alone.

Michael
Damnit.

Michael looks around, digesting the silence.

Michael
That bastard forgot his briefcase.

A Step in Progress.

My grandfather's used to smolder in a tray beside him while he sat on a plastic chair in the garage watching heavy rains fall. He would clutch it in his teeth while he read the paper to choose his "winners," the horses that never won. Now that cigar haunts me, its dirty smell permeating the air around me, bringing me back here, cementing my feet in that place that would see me drown.


He is ahead of me. I barely see him in the dark, but he is there, walking unaffected by the cold, cigar smoke dragging in the air behind him. His hair is gray, his coat is red. He reaches the corner and turns. I reach the corner and follow.


Does he know I am here? Is he frightened by me? Am I threatening? These thoughts pass as he pauses to look at the sky. He takes a drag from his cigar and the odor swells in the wind. I keep my distance, following unintentionally, or perhaps dragged by sentimentality.


The old man leads until I cannot see him anymore. He does not turn a corner. He does not step into the street or walk up a path. He becomes invisible. Or perhaps I lose track of him, or fail to notice when he does deviate from the sidewalk that we both follow religiously. He is gone now, and with him his confounding cigar.


Here, I come upon an elegant house, bathed in warmth and stolen from children's stories. It glows with conviction and the ensigns of forking paths hang in the windows.


Were it not for common etiquette I would enter without a moment's pause. The porch wood creaking beneath my steps, the door knob chilling my palm, the heavy door announcing my arrival with an ancient cry; the scene would seem familiar. Things from my pockets would slide across the table. I would leave my shoes to dry near the rack where I hang my coat. I would casually venture deeper into this mysterious place, passing photos and porceline plates and strange artwork hanging on the walls.

Passing through the kitchen, I would discover once again the smell of smoke hanging in the air. The sweet, leathery scent of burning tobacco creeping slowly from the basement would beckon my curious steps into the den below. I would not take these stairs with caution nor haste, but with the distinct ease of habit. The room that would be waiting would not be new to my eyes, like the spaces above, instead it would be clothed in memory.

The old man would be sitting there, rocking in that same wooden chair. He would be quiet at first, as he was known to be at times like this. His cigar would bleed its smoke. The wrinkles would fail to conceal those sharp, distinct eyes. He would turn to me at last, and with the smile of recognition passing briefly across his face he'd say, "what took you so long?"

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Bahhaj stands while Michael and Bryan remain seated.

Bahhaj
You ever notice how small Michael's hands are?

Bryan
No.

Their eyes move to Michael's hands. They spend a few moments in palpable, awkward silence.

Michael
That's what I get for avoiding manual labor my whole life.

Bahhaj
Is that what it does?

Michael
Well-

Bahhaj
Is that how you think it works? Do you believe construction workers go into work with hands like that?

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Bryan and Ariana stand, putting on their coats. Naheed walks in.

Naheed
Where are you going?

Bryan
We've gotta take someone out.

Ariana
Me and Bryan just have to go say goodbye to someone.

Bryan
"Say goodbye" to their knee caps.

Ariana laughs.

Bryan
I keep more than condoms in that briefcase.

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Michael and Naheed stand near Bryan as he sits at his desk with a defensive posture.

Michael continues his rant.

Michael
Any time a man makes a sudden acquisition of clothing and accessories that means he's interested in a lady. I mean, look at me, the last time I bought any clothes was before Pilgrimage, where I was going to meet all sorts of women.

Michael looks at Naheed.

Michael (quietly)
That's not really why I was there.

Bryan
Oh yes it was! The first thing Michael says is always the truth. It's like he's got a truth Tourette's.

Michael
Come on!

Bryan
The second thing he says is always socially acceptable, but the first thing is where he's at.

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Naheed stands, talking to Michael and Bryan.

Naheed
You should get the Turkey Club. It's so good, and it's so big, I always get it but without the bacon.

Bryan
What? No bacon?

Naheed
I don't like it. I have them take it out.

Bryan's mouth hangs agape in disbelief.

Bryan
How you gonna have a club with no bacon?

Naheed
I just don't like it. I don't like most pork meats.

Bryan
Girl, you ain't right.

Minutes pass. Michael and Bryan busy themselves with their work, and then -

Bryan
I mean, it's like the bedrock of a club.

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Bryan, dressed in a new, tailored suit, sits at his desk. Michael looks at his computer while Naheed stands in their cubicle.

Bryan
It's Valentine's day. Every place is going to be "romantic."

Michael
Not Hot Doug's Gourmet Encased Meats.

Bryan laughs.

Bryan
Did you just make that up?

Michael
No. Of course not.

Naheed changes the subject.

Naheed
The only thing your outfit needs now is a briefcase.

Bryan
Yes, a briefcase. I can bring it on my "romantic dinner."

Before Michael can respond to Bryan's patronizing sarcasm-

Bryan
I can keep my condoms in it.

25 Things About Me (Facebook Tag)

I don't know that I'll be able to think of 25 things about myself that are very interesting, and I'm afraid I'll disappoint those of you that tagged me. My hope is that I was tagged out of a necessity, as if you thought, "oh, who can I tag? I'll just tag Mike."

One thing that jumped to mind is that (1) I've always wanted to see a blue whale. They're the biggest animals on earth! Why wouldn't I want to see one? Of course, maybe giant squids are bigger, but those things are disgusting. Whales are mammals that live underwater. That in itself is cool. So far (2) the closest I've ever come to seeing a blue whale is seeing a manatee at the Dallas aquarium, but as you can tell, that's not very close at all. The manatees were cool though, and it was a fun day. I kept chuckling as I thought back to the fake manatee-themed-porn from Conan O'Brien's website.

I can't exactly place where my fascination with the blue whale comes from. As I think now, it may have to do with my (3) childhood obsession with dinosaurs. (Sorry for including that one, by the way, I guess most boys were obsessed with dinosaurs when they were kids.) But the only way that blue whales are related to dinosaurs are that they are big, so I guess I think the size of these creatures is what makes them compelling. I mean, how many kids do you know would call compsognathus their favorite dinosaur? That's right, none!

When I was a kid, (4) my favorite dinosaur was always the one they hadn't discovered yet, and were only theorizing about. You know, the one that was spectacularly huge and fantastic but always turned out to be a hoax to disappoint impressionable minds like mine and make them give up their dreams and settle for whatever job pays the bills with the least amount of effort or responsibility. You know, like what Santa Claus is to Christian kids. 

(5) While I was obsessed with dinosaurs, I was also obsessed with knights and armor. One of my favorite books was the "visual dictionary" about old weapons and stuff. I loved dreaming of my own stories, and drawing my own characters with strange armor that was really just me trying to copy the old samurai images and then call them my own. I think I liked dinosaurs more because they were more mysterious, so they allowed me more space to convince myself that my own fantasies were true. (6) When I was a kid, I would always tell stories (lies) and convince my sister that they were real. For example, I once cut the hair off of her My Little Pony doll and told her it would grow back. Beyond that, I told her that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were real, and living under the auditorium at Ray Elementary. Looking back now, I think the reason I did that was because it made our world that much more interesting. It made it one we actually wanted to be a part of. 

(7)There's no one I look up to more than my siblings. I have had many different role models growing up: parents, relatives, teachers, friends, etc, but none have ever meant as much to me as my brother and sister. Isaac is someone who I will always have the utmost respect and admiration for, and will always look up to. I look at other people who don't have the sort of relationship with their brother that I have with mine, and I realize how blessed I am to have Isaac in my life. I admire Anna for different reasons, but easily just as much. I doubt there is anyone more universally talented and creative than Anna. She is one of the only people I know who just "gets it," perhaps nothing exemplifies this more than the fact that she's the only one who truly knows what I mean by this sentence. As I ponder her character now, I can think of countless virtues that she strives to exemplify on a daily basis. The world would be better if more people were like my siblings. 

I think I am so close with my siblings because of my parents' divorce, and the massive crater it left in our early lives. Since then, (8) my only purpose in life has been to make other people happy, and this is a significant problem for me. I remember when I was 6 my mother was crying in our kitchen. My parents had just had a fight and I don't know where my father was. But my mother was crying. To my six year old mind, the cause of this fight was that the American-brand potato chips that my mom bought were stale, and my father didn't like them. So I sat down next to my mother and I ate the chips and I told her I liked them. 

I don't know how I got the impression that the fight was over stale chips, but to a six-year-old, such a thing makes perfect sense. I don't know where I got that memory, by the way, as my recollections of my childhood are patchy at best. (9) My memory is always vivid when I'm meeting someone important. When I think back to the first time I encountered people who would become my best friends, I can always remember every detail of those moments, even down to which song I had stuck in my head or the music I was listening to. When I think about all of the people who are my best friends today, I can tell you almost every minute detail about how and where I met them. 

I'm not saying that I would hesitate to call someone whose first impression I can't recall one of my best friends, but (10) I'm usually very insightful upon first meeting someone. It doesn't take much for me to know whether or not I'll get along with someone. I would never go so far to claim anything particularly unique about this insight I claim to have, but I will say that it's derived from my sensitivity and my deductions. I notice a lot when I'm on guard, and people can't really hide the way they are. My cynicism frames this in terms of me being able to spot the people I don't like, even though I should actually be looking for the opposite. 

(11) I am severely controlled by my habits. This is one of the things I've been working on lately, but without much success. Thankfully, I don't have any habits like smoking or drinking that are related to addictive substances. Instead, I have habits like eating comfort food, or listening to the same three bands at night in order to fall asleep. Also, I recognize my relationship to my habits and am trying to create new ones that will have a positive impact on my life, like writing every night or jogging. 

(12) I often find writing and conceiving stories to be the most difficult and abhorrent activity that I could inflict upon myself, but I do it anyway. I have spent so many frustrated hours looking at half-blank documents on my computer that I feel ashamed at how much time I may have wasted. The romance, prestige, and even intellectual elitism that people associate with this common craft of writing is beyond me. To me, there is nothing special about being an artist of any kind, but (13) there is something mystical and powerful about art. The art is what connects with people, the art is what they respond to, not the artist. 

(14) The "art" that I seek to perfect is storytelling. Whether this is through prose, through film, through screenplays or smoke signals, I wish to tell stories. 

I suppose this goes back to me telling my sister lies I called stories, like the time she stepped on a flower and I told her it was covered with a lethal poison that would disintegrate her skin unless she washed it off in five minutes. Or maybe it's because my favorite thing to do as a kid was watch movies, read comic books, and draw my own comics about clearly derivative characters and plots. (15) Now, I write movies about similar themes, and am finally beginning to feel good about them. It's only taken me about 10 years to figure it out, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. I've discovered the themes that are important to me, and a multitude of avenues by which to explore them. (16) The first movie I ever wrote was about an underground rapper who becomes famous. Now I'm writing a movie about a famous rapper who returns to his underground roots. The second movie I ever wrote was a slapstick comedy about a President based on George W. Bush that I stopped writing after September 11th. It was called "Pickles," and it actually had some funny, Simpsons-inspired jokes, but as you can imagine, lacked anything remotely compelling to keep me interested in writing it. Adjacent to these ideas, (17)I have been working on the same story for the past 10 years. I have always called it "Above All Things," and have always considered this a "temporary title," but doubt that I could realistically call it anything else at this point. I still don't have names that I'm happy with, nor have I been able to devote the focus to writing it that I feel it needs to get done.

(18) I am a passionate person, but I am also reserved with my passions. I love movies and music, generally, but these loves aren't universal, and I am easily bored by movies and music that are outside my parameters of interest. With music this is especially true. In the grand scheme of things, I don't like many artists at all, mostly because (19) I am a nerd, and that means that when I fall in love with a band I must immediately collect all of their albums, singles, imports, rare material, and essential live concerts. I used to alphabetize my DVD's according to director name. I wrote an essay about the movie Heat for fun. Hell, just a few nights ago I posted a long-winded analysis about a rap album that nobody has ever heard for fun.

Here's a big one: looking back on my life, (20) I don't think I honestly became a Baha'i until December 9th, 2008. That is the day I first stepped inside the Shrine of Baha'u'llah. It was also my 28th birthday. People often ask me "how was Pilgrimage," and this is the answer I feel like giving but never really have enough time to elaborate on. Maybe I'll tell you in person one day. 

When I was in college I did a lot of reading of philosophy and literature and all kinds of good stuff, but (21) nothing has ever resonated with me as profoundly as the following passage by Jorge Louis Borges:

It's Borges, the other one, that things happen to. I walk through Buenos Aires and I pause - mechanically now, perhaps - to gaze at the arch of an entryway and its inner door; news of Borges reaches me by mail, or I see his name on a list of academics or in some biographical dictionary. My taste runs to hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typefaces, etymologies, the taste of coffee, and the prose of Robert Louis Stevenson; Borges shares those preferences, but in a vain sort of way that turns them into the accoutrements of an actor. It would be an exaggeration to say that our relationship is hostile - I live, I allow myself to live, so that Borges can spin out his literature, and that literature is my justification. I willingly admit that he has written a number of sound pages, but those pages will not save me, perhaps because the good in them no longer belongs to an individual, not even to that other man, but rather to language itself, or to tradition. Beyond that, I am doomed -- utterly and inevitable-- to oblivion, and fleeting moments will be all of me that survives in that other man. Little by little, I have been turning everything over to him, though I know the perverse way he has of distorting and magnifying everything. Spinoza believed that all things wish to go on being what they are - stone wishes to eternally be stone, and tiger, to be tiger. I shall endure in Borges, not in myself (if, indeed, I am anybody at all), but I recognize myself less in his books than in many others', or in the tedious strumming of a guitar. Years ago I tried to free myself from him, and I moved on from the mythologies of the slums and outskirts of the city to games with time and infinity, but those games belong to Borges now, and I shall have to think up other things. So my life is a point-counterpoint, a kind of fugue, and a falling away - and everything winds up being lost to me, and everything falls into oblivion, or into the hands of the other man.

I am not sure which of us it is that's writing this page. 

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Mike sits at his desk, staring at his screen. Bryan speaks up.

Bryan
I've moved on from my fascination with the "Stuff White People Like" blog.

Mike
Oh yeah?

Bryan
I am now reading the "Stuff Korean Mothers Like" blog.

Mike
What?

Bryan
These women are brutal. And it's all true.

Mike thinks for a moment. He clicks from one invoice to the next.

Mike
Oh that reminds me, I have to drop off some dry cleaning.

Another Moment From Work (That I'll Never Get Back)

Bryan and Mike sit at their desks.

Bryan

I was asking Corinne where there's a Denny's.

Mike

What? Denny's?

Bryan

Seriously.

Mike

Why?

Bryan

It's free. 

(pause)

Bryan

I don't care how bad it is, that s&#t is free.