Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Liveblogging the Anthem Glow accoustic set.

8:14. In Emporia at the Inner Bean Coffee House. It's an actual house. As you can see. Jeremy and Samn of Anthem Glow pictured here. This picture was taken just before they launched into their classic soundcheck, an up-tempo and cheery version of Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues.

They then opened with The Killer's All These Things that I've Done, typically
cheesy, yet passionate, with a strong encouragement for the audience to join in on the I've got soul" bridge business. I am not a soldier, so, of course, joined in.

We're Going to Be Friends by The White Stripes started slow and then morphed into another Samn Wright that guy party song. Biggest applause of the three songs so far.

More and more people start filtering in. Going from just five or six to a bursting twenty in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, they are greeted with a sappy tale of love-to-be-lost, which is fortunately accompanied by a solid cover of Delicate by Damien Rice.

The story of the love lost continues with one of the few average songs in the Anthem Glow repertoire, What is Beautiful is God. Of course, an average Anthem Glow song is still . . . glowing. BAD-DUM-BUM.

Also, Amanda says something funny. And we all chuckle. That, or she just told me to say that. A little braggy.

8:33. The Euseys just walked in. I shook Evan's hand. Austin is reading this over my shoulder as I write, and patting my shoulder when I type something she agrees with.

8:37. Anthem Glow follows up the emo stylings of What is Beautiful is God with Wild Roses and Drowning in Faith, continuing the story of Samn's relationship with that girl, and also God at the same time, and how that worked out.

"Amanda returned with yet another witty comment," said Amanda. She also asked if this song was another song about that love triangle between Samn and that girl and God. It is.

8:41. During the Falling Slowly sing-along, I go up for that high note. And fail spectacularly. And intentionally.

Austin and Erin are conspiring next to me to dance together during Spider Web Waltz. I plan to thwart this plan. Bwa ha.

8:46. And now my absolute favorite Christmas song, Samn's Evergreen. Easily the highlight of the show so far. And so we cut trees down and dress them up in tinsel and strings. We ask you for a savior, you give us a baby. We asked you for a kingdom, and you gave us a mustard seed.

8:52. Aaand, break.


















9:03. We're back with Wake Up by the Arcade Fire. But it's not actually them. It's Anthem Glow covering it. Which is cool. But not, like, David Bowie cool.



At 9:07, an Invisible Girl walks through the Bean. No one sees her.

And then there was the time that Amanda took over the live blogging and allowed anyone and everyone to comment.

Question 1 of live blogging take over: Commentor Jacob, is that Jake Petty?

Ben is enjoying a lovely strawberry italian cream soda.

Also, Michelle is drinking mt. dew with whip cream. no lie. she just loves it so much.

Samn and Jeremy are still singing. Samn is sweaty and about to play Orpheus.

Poll: How sweaty is Samn?
"He's really sweaty."
"I would say 7.5, 10 being the most sweaty I've seen him."
"Just right."
"On a scale of 1 to 10, he's really sweaty."
"Question, why is Jeremy not sweaty?"

Also, I am Orpheus.

The Inner Bean is very nicely decorated, mostly with snow men. I find most of the snowmen unfrightening, but there is one that rather startles me. I feel that he prematurely gave up his icy world to settle into a life on top of an old radio without thinking about what that would mean for those who would have to sit facing him while listening to Anthem Glow. He freaks everyone out who passes by. And it's not doing much for his self esteem.


















Quote of the night: "Why are we both in Canada?"

Also, still singing.

2nd Poll on How Sweaty is Samn?:
"Is Samn crying?" "You can't tell because he is sweating."

Waltz Time:










































On second thought, he's not so bad.



Also, We Are Like the Stars.


Good night!

9:52. After a long conversation with the Euseys, and a bit part in Like the Stars, Timothy returns to find his liveblogging taken over and improved upon. Also good night.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Just another together-when.

This last weekend there was a Saturday. I know you may think this is a normal thing for a weekend. But you would be wrong. This was a Capital-S Saturday. You don't get those every week, let me tell you.

I got off work at three, windows down all the way home, after six hours under florescent lights, and the weather was late-May, school's out, nothing to do, call your friends, right down the list in your phone, who wants to do something, anything, outside? Some radical insurgent Spring cell got in and took down the oppressive Empire of November. If even for one day. And when oppressive empires are going' down, we are SO there.

So, I got home, and Samn and Jeremy were practicing in the basement for the acoustic set they're playing next week in Emporia. The house was getting darker, and Samn had texted me an idea that he had, a capital idea for Capital-S Saturdays in November, and so I waited with Juliet and Amanda for the rehearsal to end, hoping it wouldn't get too dark to pull this thing off.

Once they were done, Amanda left behind to sleep off a busy week, we packed up, piled in, and drove to Loose Park. Only then did we discover that we were not the only people with brilliant Saturday ideas. Some other people we didn't even know were already there, at work. And so, we doubled what they'd done, and almost fifteen of us made like it was effing Saturday, man.

This is us, after dusk, right before we left:

























I'm pretty sure Samn is standing up there on the right.

At its best, the pile was taller than me. My first jump, I dove flat out, parallel to the ground and flew.

One kid, about 4 feet tall, just ran straight at the pile and disappeared, POOF, and he had to climb out of the middle.

Juliet went it with Jeremy one time. On his shoulders.

One tall guy did half a flip and went in head down, knees up, sunk right in.

Nobody told me this was what jumping in leaves was like. I would have started a long time ago.

You can't get leaves for that in the spring, and November weather is never this kind. It was like the evening was made just so for raking, like, half an acre of leaves into one pile and leaping into it.

Monday, November 2, 2009

American Beatitudes. A targum.

(I, of course, owe much to Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat in the inspiration of this.)
Edited 11/2/2009 8:00 pm


Wake up.
Become aware.
Come alive.
Because
The Republic of God,
The United States of Heaven,
The Commonwealth of Jesus
is right here in front of you,
is right here inside you.
There is another way.

Privileged are those without hope or ability to succeed in the economic and political and (especially) religious systems of the world,
those without a college degree,
those without enough capital to start a business,
those deep in debt,
those who don't have time to get all spiritual,
those who don't go to church because they have been judged by people in churches,
those who don't understand what all this fuss is about God.
And privileged are all the people who aren't American,
who come to this county legally or illegally,
those who could never even dream of coming here.
Because they are the senators and policymakers and secretaries in this other nation.

Privileged are those who are worn out from the weight of being a cog in the machine of industry,
working 9 to 5, or 6 to 8, or midnight to 6, or a rotating shift, never see the sun,
whose benefits don't cover their medical bills
whose bosses’ bosses’ bosses, people they’ve never met, made decisions to lay them off, and now they can’t feed their family.
And privileged are the people turned into a commodity by a depersonalizing and dehumanizing image-driven society,
the teenage girls who think they have to cut calories just so to stay thin,
men who buy magazines promising to teach them to lose a gut they will never lose,
reality show contestants wanting to be famous, because being famous means being loved,
prostitutes and johns,
everyone lonely or scared of being poor or addicted or lost.
Because in this nation,
they will be comforted and given a new life
they will get to start over fresh,
and start over again,
and start over again.

Privileged are the timid and the unstrong,
the bullied and the scared,
the impotent in a world of rampant false virility,
the ones who don’t test well,
the ones who never spoke up in class.
And privileged are those unwilling or unable to work,
the ones turned lazy by entertainment funneled down their throats
the ones who never learned to be motivated themselves.
Because they are the CEOs, and they will receive the bonuses at Christmas, and the options. Their parachutes are always golden.

Privileged are those who have only ever experienced pain and oppression,
those who see injustice around every corner,
on the way out of their bosses’ offices,
in their landlord’s notices,
from the fists of their fathers or pimps or lovers,
in the systems of the federal or state government
in the systems of charity that only helps those who can help themselves,
in the lack of any system at all to help them,
those who wish they could just stop hurting for one minute a day.
Because they will see the pain and the oppression and the injustice and especially the hurt
finally stop.
And as empty as the hurt ever was, they will be filled up and over.

Privileged are those who have the easy opportunity to take advantage of someone else,
to make money,
or take power
at the expense of those without it.
And instead choose to give of themselves
to cast aside their comfort,
to not fuel someone’s slavery for the own convenience
of cheaper shoes,
a bigger television,
a better vacation.
And privileged are those who were oppressed by others and forgave,
who should have risen up and fought,
who should have sued,
who were justified to kill the men who raped their daughters,
and hugged them instead.
Because they, in return,
will be let off the hook,
be found innocent in the court of law,
will go free.
They are free.

Privileged are those without eyes to see the complexities of world,
without the understanding to read the fine-print of a mortgage document,
without the vision to depersonalize someone else's body for their own pleasure,
those unfamiliar with sex in a culture that fetishizes it,
the ones who don’t get jokes,
the gullible who get socked in the arm for looking at nothing.
Because instead of all of that,
they see and understand God.

Privileged are those who reconcile
murderers and victims' families,
landmine planters and soldiers without legs,
rapists and rape-victims,
Democrats and Republicans,
Hutus and Tutsis,
the kid who lost his fingers with the person who bought the t-shirt the kid was enslaved to make.
And privileged are those who refuse to take up arms to defend themselves,
those who stand in the way of someone else's pain, making it their own,
those who have never hostilely taken over anything,
or ordered someone to do something just because they could.
Because they will be titled:
President-on-Duty, Commanders-in-Chief.

And so, you are privileged.
When people insult you,
spit on you,
exclude you,
blog about you unfavorably,
or say all kinds of evil against you,
change their Facebook status to slight you,
invade your homeland,
laugh you out of the forum,
mock you on the Daily Show,
Fox News, or 4chan,
because you recognize this other, better nation,
because you are not a patriot anymore,
your interests abroad are deeper than American ones,
when you sympathize with killers and terrorists,
when the decisions you make for this other nation
hurt the economy of America,
when you change your life for justice,
and this inconveniences others' safety and comfort,
and especially when you forgive these very people who insult you,
rejoice and be glad!
Buck up.
Throw a party.
Someone will always persecute prophets and
people who find a third way,
and you're there among them.
So, great is your reward in
The Republic of God,
the United States of Heaven,
the Commonweath of Jesus.
You are the senators and CEOs now,
landlords and bosses.
You are the free ones.
You get to start over,
start fresh.
And you will do all these things differently.
From below,
without power or the desire to control.

And, sometimes, you will give up even this privilege.
Because,
you see God.
You have seen God.
He is here.
He is in you.