I recently had a stroke of bad luck with my otherwise marvelous Macbook. It was acting funny, so I tried to restart. It stalled out and I tried doing a hard reboot.
Oops.
I found myself staring at a grey screen, the fan whirring out of control. Fun!
Now I’m trying to figure out whether I should take it to an Apple store, or just visit a repair service now that my Applecare term has ended.
Feel free to offer your two cents in the comments!
I was at a wedding when I got word that Jack had died. It felt like a punch in the gut. I didn’t know him particularly well, but well enough to say hi when I saw him around town. He lived around the corner from me here in Port Fishington, and I’d often see him smoking a cigarette outside his house on Cedar Street. I named this blog for the song he’s playing in the video above. Watch it and let it soak in.
Jack’s music continues to amaze me. His genius was revered within a small group of fans here, grew somewhat when Kensington Blues was released, and then shrank again. Seeing him play was always a treat and I saw him pretty often, most memorably in the First Unitarian Church sanctuary when he opened for Sunn O))). I saw him play with Pelt when they opened for Earth in the church basement. Jack was the sort of artist who had his bonafides and didn’t need critical praise from Pitchfork to grow a committed following.
I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s one of the saddest stories in music for me in 2009. I sometimes imagine him still playing at 60, dazzling a new generation with his singular style. I wanted to see where he’d take his music. It’s a shame that we won’t all get to see that happen. I’m hopeful that Thrill Jockey can release his final album and that Jack gets the recognition he so richly deserves.
Rest in peace, Jack. Your music lives on eternally.
The past ten years were host to the greatest challenges and joys of my life. I started the decade as a tough-minded grad student at the New School for Social Research. Somewhere along the way I turned an unpaid hobby into a career. Crazy, huh?
In between times, I made the best out of underemployment, teaching myself about movies during a stretch as a video store clerk. I fell in love with film at TLA Video’s store at 4th and South Sts. The store closed earlier this month. Needless to say, it was a Philly institution that will be sorely missed by anyone who set foot in it.
I feel fortunate to have worked with the people who made TLA Video a safe haven for cinephiles here in Philly. I can’t tell you how many customers thanked us for simply being the loyal opposition to Blockbuster. We knew who Wim Wenders was when the big box stores barely carried foreign titles. Sure, it was a low-paying retail job, but at least it had a mission and a clear identity. We were going to offer the sort of movies Blockbuster edited out of existence, whether that was foreign or adult or whatever. TLA was everything Blockbuster wasn’t.
The road got rockier when Netflix started to bully brick and mortar. When I think back to my time there between 2003-05, I swore I’d never go to Netflix. It lacked immediate gratification, I thought, disregarding all those times I went into the store only to discover the movie I so desperately wanted to see was currently rented. I thought the mail was just a clunky way to deliver movies. How wrong I was. Customers loved it and we watched our business dwindle even in Netflix’s early days.
I think the people who worked at TLA made it the institution it was. I was introduced to more off-the-wall movies by my co-workers than I have been in 3+ years as a Netflix customer. Everyone had their area of expertise and our regular customers sought out those of us they trusted most when they needed to see something, but weren’t sure what to rent. It was a joy to help people find new and interesting movies to watch, and a greater pleasure to discuss them when they returned. It was the only thing we could offer that the computer and it’s Amazon.com-esque recommendations couldn’t.
Ultimately, consumers chose convenience over that level of customer service. Onerous late fees and the hassle that came with them were enough to kill off the brick and mortar biz. Trust me: we hated those arguments as much as you did! The brick and mortar business tried to accommodate this customer with terrible results. There was no price point that would work for a company with the sort of overhead TLA had. What made TLA Video special will ultimately kill it off. The video store will not die with dignity, but rather a slow, lingering death at the hands of Netflix, Redbox, and the motley offering from your cable provider.
When TLA laid me off in 2006, I was hurt most because I really believed in what they hoped to accomplish. It still hurts. I’ve watched helplessly as they’ve laid off many of the people who made the company great. I’ve since moved on and am very happy where I am, but I still miss the ideal TLA represented, even if it set a standard no business could live up to in today’s economy.
I think what’s strangest of all is how I will struggle to explain what a video store was to my son when he asks about the jobs I’ve held. Are knowledge workers at the shallow end of the jobs pool destined to go the way of the milk man?
I’m looking over the resolutions I made last year. Hilarious! Apart from finally finding a theme I could live with and a couple easy plug-ins for the right rail, I’ve done nothing that even resembles my goals for the year. In light of this I’m going to take some advice from Paul Rudd’s character ‘Kunu’ in Forgetting Sarah Marshall and try to ‘do less.’
What does that mean exactly? It means making resolutions that make sense to someone who’s started a family. I spend hardly any time on the computer at home now. I stay connected via my beloved iPhone, but it’s hardly an ideal tool for trying out new things on Wordpress. No, I need to set real goals for 2010 that aren’t in any way connected to my life online.
For example, I need to pack my lunch more often. Glamorous, right? I figure I could save about $50 a week if I just took the delicious leftovers in the fridge rather than getting yet another roast pork with sharp at Tony Luke Jr.’s during my lunch hour.
A corollary to packing my lunch: take coffee to the office! I usually drink a small French press every morning before I head into the office in the morning, only to find myself in line at the Tir Na Nog branch of Starbucks with my co-workers almost every morning. That has to stop. I’ve cut back to a tall coffee there, but it’s still about $10 a week on something I have readily available at home. I think one of these new Klean Kanteen travel cups should do the trick!
One thing that’s a constant in my life is the desire to read and write more. Since Charlie was born, I’ve spent more hours in front of a TV than ever. It’s the perfect antidote to being shut-in, but it establishes bad habits that I didn’t have as a child. I don’t want Charlie to develop those habits either. Keep in mind, it’s very difficult to do much reading when you’re tending to a baby, but doing some would be better than what I’ve been doing. The days of reading 1200 pages per week during grad school seem impossible now. If I could read even just a book a month I’d be happy.
The writing’s important, too. As my job changes, I find myself less inclined to write about music. The time it takes to do it right, plus the lack of interest from the general public in reading music content have discouraged me from writing. I still love reading great music writing and I’m inspired by folks who’ve really had to overcome setbacks in their careers as music critics, namely my old boss Christopher R. Weingarten and someone who became a dear colleague and music crit confidant for me this year, Maura Johnston. Their work continues to amaze me, even as we’re told that the audience for such writing approaches nil.
On a personal note, I need to do a better job of getting my house in order. Literally. I can’t hang a shelf in this place without something going haywire, which might explain why there are so few shelves. I’m calling on my old high school friend Kevin Derrick to help us sort out how to make life with a baby in a modest Kensington rowhome a little more beautiful.
I’m not sure what awaits me next year. My wonderful, supportive wife and lovely baby son amaze me every day. I’m excited for the challenges that lie ahead in my professional life. I’m excited to focus on the practical rather than the perfect. I feel the future bursting with possibility. Bring it on!
One of the things I’ve been seeing recently are people saying that music has lost its mystique. I couldn’t agree more. There’s a great line in Guy Debord’s Society of the Spectacle that applies here I think; to paraphrase, the things that separate celebrities from the rest of us are power and vacations. That was true for musicians, once upon a time, but now that the rock star is dead, how can we still be awestruck by musicians and the music they create? Continue reading →
