Miss Good Local Social
Do you know what I miss?
My social life.
It's a damned shame that I moved from tumbleweed, dust-bowl Tempe, Ariz., to one of the liveliest cities in the U.S., Chicago, Ill, and five months later, I can't stop feeling like there's something missing. I mean, Chicago has everything I longed for while living in Tempe. Chicago has four distinct seasons (including the most active winter weather I've ever seen) the famed and amazing "El" train, classic brownstone architecture, American history, mobsters, crooked politicians, street fairs, a free zoo(!), its own indie music fm radio station , The Museum of Contemporary Art, The Museum of Science and Industry, The Field Museum , The Chicago History Museum, a museum, a museum, a museum, the Chicago Dog, The Cubs, the Bears. The list could go on ... for a few days, but I won't do that.
With all this said, why, then, am I experiencing a sentimental pull to listen to local Phoenix bands like Reubens Accomplice and Liars Handshake? And why do the lyrics "Ninth and Ash on a Tuesday night" from pop-sensationalized Jimmy Eat World's song "If You Don't, Don't" sometimes creep into my head like a broken record, repeating over and over?
I really love Chicago and all the people in this city. There's a real blue collar working class here that cares for the city and each other, a type of culture that was no where to be found among the boozing beligerent ASU bro culture and beneath the layers of makeup, silicone, bleach and bronze of Valley club girls.
But I found a few of my own diamonds in the rough - a few real, true friends that picked me up when I was down (which was quite a bit), and looked to me for a good laugh, too. And the local music really kicked in Phoenix thanks to indie music venues like Modified and the old Nita's Hideaway. I miss Jared Christy of Liar's Handshake singing his heart out and his shirt off. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Casey Moore's on a crowded, sweaty July Friday night.
In the tradition of my blog, I know this entry doesn't quite fit, but this is a comeback entry - a catchup, if you will. And I owe it to my friends of the desert, every last one. Thanks, guys.
My social life.
It's a damned shame that I moved from tumbleweed, dust-bowl Tempe, Ariz., to one of the liveliest cities in the U.S., Chicago, Ill, and five months later, I can't stop feeling like there's something missing. I mean, Chicago has everything I longed for while living in Tempe. Chicago has four distinct seasons (including the most active winter weather I've ever seen) the famed and amazing "El" train, classic brownstone architecture, American history, mobsters, crooked politicians, street fairs, a free zoo(!), its own indie music fm radio station , The Museum of Contemporary Art, The Museum of Science and Industry, The Field Museum , The Chicago History Museum, a museum, a museum, a museum, the Chicago Dog, The Cubs, the Bears. The list could go on ... for a few days, but I won't do that.
With all this said, why, then, am I experiencing a sentimental pull to listen to local Phoenix bands like Reubens Accomplice and Liars Handshake? And why do the lyrics "Ninth and Ash on a Tuesday night" from pop-sensationalized Jimmy Eat World's song "If You Don't, Don't" sometimes creep into my head like a broken record, repeating over and over?
I really love Chicago and all the people in this city. There's a real blue collar working class here that cares for the city and each other, a type of culture that was no where to be found among the boozing beligerent ASU bro culture and beneath the layers of makeup, silicone, bleach and bronze of Valley club girls.
But I found a few of my own diamonds in the rough - a few real, true friends that picked me up when I was down (which was quite a bit), and looked to me for a good laugh, too. And the local music really kicked in Phoenix thanks to indie music venues like Modified and the old Nita's Hideaway. I miss Jared Christy of Liar's Handshake singing his heart out and his shirt off. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Casey Moore's on a crowded, sweaty July Friday night.
In the tradition of my blog, I know this entry doesn't quite fit, but this is a comeback entry - a catchup, if you will. And I owe it to my friends of the desert, every last one. Thanks, guys.
posted by Mandy G at 7:20 AM
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