Weeknotes: December 16-20, 2024
I guess I felt like writing this week. Happy Solstice!
Monday, December 16
My Christmas lights shine weakly against the gloom. After such a crisp start, December has retreated into rainy drear. At the supermarket I stand in the baking aisle looking for cardamom pods. The woman next to me is coming up short in her own spice search and we exchange friendly smalltalk about holiday busyness. A few minutes later she finds me in the next aisle waving in victory a small jar of ground cardamom. Such a sweet gesture, but I really want the pods. I thank her anyway.
After work I head back out into the drizzle on a longer set of evening errands. Just over a week until Christmas, but I'm thwarted on most of my stops. I do find the cardamom, though. I walk around Ann Arbor feeling dispirited, carrying only one of the several gifts I'd sought. I catch the last ten minutes of happy hour at Conor O'Neill's. I remember when this Irish bar opened in the late-'90s. It felt like an overly-commercial upstart on Main Street, but tonight I'm drawn to its well-established and unpretentious vibe. Some type of Harry Potter party must have recently happened; there are "Wanted" posters for Fenrir Greyback and "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" signs are tacked over several booths. I work on a pint of Smithwick's and write in my notebook, replenishing my cheer sip by sip.
A father with his young son approaches the bar asking if the North Pole mailbox has been taken down. The boy has a letter for Santa. The bartender disappears for a bit, then comes back to confirm said box is presently in the store room being prepped for delivery to the North Pole. He accepts the envelope on Santa's behalf, and moves off stage with a smile, ferrying away the kid’s hopes and dreams.
Year in Review: Music
I think Weeknotes might go on vacation for a little bit while I enjoy some holiday downtime. But it’s the end of the year and I do love a good wrap-up list. Featured below are a handful of records I had the privilege of reviewing in 2024 along with some I love, but didn’t review. I’ve included links to my AllMusic reviews along with buying/streaming links to support these artists.
Weeknotes: December 2-6, 2024
A condensed edition this week. Yet again, I’ve borrowed a format idea from my hero, Walknotes (thank you, Denise!).
STRAY THOUGHTS & OBSERVATIONS
I take Islay to the pet store to have her nails trimmed by a professional. She trembles, but tolerates it, giving me a wounded look through the grooming salon window. Afterward, I reward her with a walk at County Farm Park. We're behind a Ford Escape with the shaft of its rear wiper missing. I don't think the driver realizes it's on. Its little black stump wags back and forth every few seconds like a shy, sweet dog.
Weeknotes: November 25-29, 2024
It’s the start of the holidays. I’ll likely take a break from Weeknotes sometime in the next month, but for now, here’s a little Thanksgiving four-parter and some notes on the joy of running.
Monday, November 25
PART 1: I hang my evergreen wreath on the high eave of the porch. No ladder needed; I balance its fulcrum on the tip of my walking stick which I keep in a blue bucket next to the coat rack, and gently lift it up to the waiting nail placed there three years ago.
Weeknotes: November 18-22, 2024
Monday, November 18
It's mid-afternoon and I'm standing at the end of my block with Islay who is examining a hedge. Across the street a band loads out of an upstairs apartment. The first guy has a freshly-sculpted mohawk and a guitar case and is followed single file by two mismatched bandmates with amps and drum gear.
At work we are assembling our year-end lists, both for the company and as individual editors. I have some focused listening to do. At dusk I head out on foot and find myself wandering though Highland Cemetery, listening to Arooj Aftab's Night Reign on my headphones. It's a good cemetery album, more seductive than spooky. As night falls, I see a woman walking a dog in my direction down the dark wooded lane and turn around so as not to scare her. On my way out I pause at the gate which is eerily lit by a high purple streetlight. Now I'm listening to the Shovel Dance Collective, a U.K. folk group who sound a bit like Ireland's Lankum. Their slow, brooding version of the old maritime ballad "The Merry Golden Tree" is a bit of a masterpiece. I love these new dark trad bands.
Weeknotes: November 11-15, 2024
On WCBN the DJ plays four Alvvays songs in a row. I think about driving to Cleveland with Serge this past spring to see them play the Agora Ballroom. We had a fun night. Ever since, I've wanted to title a song "Alvvays in Cleveland." My brother and his girlfriend went to Cleveland a couple weeks ago to see the Mongolian folk metal band the Hu and visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the first time. I told him to give my regards to Colin Blunstone's sweater. He sent me a picture with the caption "I am changed."
Last Known Address
No Weeknotes this week. My heart wears the black armband of mourning, yet it’s for a tragedy shared by less than half of my country. I don’t really know how to process that, so that’s all I’m going to say for now. Instead, please allow me to direct you to something that brings me a great sense of pride.
Weeknotes: October 28 - November 1, 2024
Monday, October 28
I had a good hair day yesterday. Even better, I was at a party and friends witnessed it. You hate to waste a good hair day. Today, my second cup of coffee tastes like spring, though it's not even November yet. A lot of seasons still to cycle through. On WCBN it's clearly spooky season. Shriekback, Bauhaus, 45 Grave. It's a nice little commute and I pull into campus with Peter Murphy hurling Latin incantations out my windows.
Later I light a fire and start triaging which potted plants will come inside for the winter. Wearing leather work gloves, I use tweezers to carefully extract dead leaves that have blown into my mess of cacti. I like winterizing a yard, it's satisfying work. I say goodbye to RR who moves out Apt. 2 tomorrow, taking Pretzel with her. I've become very fond of that little three-legged cat.
Weeknotes: October 21-25, 2024
Monday, October 21
Battleground state fatigue. Two weeks unil the election and it's just a relentless slog of unwanted emails, texts, and TV ads. I listen to Death's classic debut Scream Bloody Gore over coffee and oatmeal. I hope it's not a harbinger of the violence we're all afraid will occur after November 5.
I remember when my brother first bought this album on cassette in the late-'80s. We were power metal guys (Iron Maiden, Helloween, Fate's Warning) and had never heard death metal. Jamie was already into punk and some thrash. He bought it because it seemed audacious and kind of funny. A band called Death with a bunch of skeletons in robes drinking wine on the cover. I was about ten or eleven and they were pretty heavy for me, but I was still rapt whenever he put them on. It was kind of scary and exciting, like when he gave me his Walkman and told me to go into the closet, turn off the lights, and listen to "In the Beginning" by Mötley Crüe. Shout at the Devil sounds lightweight now, but there was some great glam-Satanist theater to that intro that really tapped into the zeitgeist of the era.
I went to the John Williams pops concert over the weekend. I took my mom; we had a pub dinner then went to the symphony. Very classy. Honestly, it was one of the most transformative concerts I've seen in years. Even more than power metal, John Williams' film scores are the true music of my youth. They go straight into that special part of my soul where hope and green things live. My face hurt from smiling so hard and when I wasn't smiling I was crying, especially during the Superman march, Star Wars end credits, and E.T. theme. Damon Gupton was the guest conductor and proved to be an effective showman and emcee. Some of the players had costumes on; a few witch hats, a toy shark affixed to the top of the harp. We thought they were going to hold out and deny us the Raiders of the Lost Ark theme (we'd have gone all Scream Bloody Gore on them), but of course it was the encore. The joy of life was in that room.
Weeknotes: October 14-18, 2024
Monday, October 14
I feel behind on pumpkin-acquisition and other fall imperatives. Where are my decorative corn stalks and knobbly gourds? I still have hanging ferns and a potted geranium on the porch. It's going to be November in a couple weeks and I'll be removing the screens and cleaning the windows, one of my favorite pre-winter rituals, usually done after daylight savings ends.
Lunchtime is a failure. For the second day in a row I drive out to Liberty Station to check my P.O. box and do a quick photo shoot, and for the second day in a row I find the lobby closed, this time for Columbus Day. Since I'm downtown, I hit up two different running stores to try and replace my worn out shoes, but don't find what I want. It's a waste of a trip. I console myself with a new $3 gel pen from Literati's pen bar, then head back to Ypsilanti.
Weeknotes: October 7-11, 2024
Monday, October 7
I get a notice from the Ypsilanti Library that my MelCat order is ready for pickup. They've shipped Leif Enger's Peace Like a River up from the Monroe County Library for me. I finish reading Virgil Wander before bed so I can swap them out tomorrow and continue my Enger journey. The weather is turning chilly and I have a head cold — exceptional circumstances for good books. The Tigers rebound from their weekend pummeling to win Game 2 of the ALDS and now the series is coming to Detroit. I stand at the kitchen cupboards listening to the ballgame, feeling ravenous. It's feed a cold, starve a fever, right? I wind down the evening editing a series of short essays I've written about Ann Arbor for the library's bicentennial project.
Weeknotes: September 30 - October 4, 2024
Monday, September 30
On Saturday I sent Islay to spend the night with my parents while I took a day trip to Grand Rapids. When I got home to my empty house, I felt so distraught without her. Today I make sure she gets plenty of attention. Pets take up such emotional volume. I sit on the couch with her binge-watching the Americans while working on a magazine layout project for my design class.
Weeknotes: September 23-27, 2024
Monday, September 23
The second day of autumn. That's the title of a song my brother wrote in the early '90s and I always think of it on the day after the equinox. In the evening, K and I drive up into the northern suburbs to see Vampire Weekend at Meadowbrook Music Hall. I brought a blanket, but we rent lawn chairs and sit in the cool damp evening, drinking gin and tonics and listening to Ezra Koenig's keening voice pierce the hill.
Weeknotes: September 16-20, 2024
Monday, September 16
There's a bad smell coming from somewhere on the porch. Is it just my overripe trash can? I'm standing out there sniffing, looking over the rail for a decaying rodent when CC pulls up. I guide her up the steps to "the spot" but she doesn't smell anything out of the ordinary.
We play through a handful of songs in the living room while Islay whines, begging for treats. Her brat summer continues. Many of our rehearsal tapes have insolent dog noises on them, like ambient feedback. She eventually settles down, head on paws, and listens from the couch.
CC and I revisit songs from previous albums and scale down a newer one from its full-band arrangement to duo format. We also add a few more short pieces which preface longer songs like sympathetic key siblings. In this way, our next set will contain about 20 songs in 45 minutes.
Weeknotes: September 9-13, 2024
Monday, September 9
I'm about to go to bed and make an early night of it. As I’m switching off the lights in my studio I realize I haven't touched an instrument all day and it bothers me. I pick up my guitar and sit casually atop my desk, thinking I'll just strum through a quick song as a matter of principle. An hour later I'm still up and have the bones of a new song in place. Whenever this happens, I think what might have happened had I just skipped the exercise and not played. When a song is new, it's always your favorite one.
I take it as far as I can, then stay up past midnight reading Leif Enger's marvelous I Cheerfully Refuse. It seemed like it was going to be a special book when I read the flap and I was right.
Weeknotes: September 2-6, 2024
Monday, September 2
Over the weekend I used my bow saw and loppers to break down the big storm-loosened tree limb that fell in front of my shed. A casualty of a previous ice storm, it had been hanging by a tough woody tendon for two years before finally breaking loose last week. Very satisfying. Its logs are stacked neatly in my woodpile and its branches now crackle merrily in the firepit while I sip strong beer out of an enamel cup and listen to Duke Pearce and Bud Powell. Piano trios are the coziest of musical combos. In the winter I listen to Bill Evans Trio practically every night. It's only Labor Day, but I'm embracing the cool weather and its symbolic shift into fall.
I've pulled out my sewing kit and am mending my neoprene smartphone armband which came apart at the seams during my run today. I've bought pricey ones and generic ones and they all fail, some sooner than others. I'll occasionally mend one when I get tired of having to replace them, though it rarely buys more than a month or two of added service.
Weeknotes: August 26-30, 2024
Monday, August 26
"Do you know your way around here?"
"It's my first day!"
I'm comforted to see another older student struggling to find the right building on the directory map. I've just finished my first class and offer to walk her over to where I think it is. Her name is Norma and she's probably a few years older than me, using the GI Bill to finish up a degree of some sort.
I steer her to the incorrect building and she ends up walking back to her car to drive to the other side of campus. I was trying to be helpful, but I hope I didn't make her late.
Weeknotes: August 19-23, 2024
Monday, August 19
It's my last week of summer. One week from today, I will be one of those middle aged adults in a classroom full of teenagers at my local community college. My path of higher education ended indefinitely in April 1996 after two unfocused semesters at Central Michigan University, a school I attended mostly because my brother was already up there and it was the expected thing to do. My high school years were heavy on arts and humanities. I was a theater kid, president of my Thespian troup by senior year. I formed my first band in 7th grade and began gigging professionally at age 15. My brief college experience was half-hearted at best. I just didn’t have it in me. I wanted to make music.
Weeknotes: August 12-16, 2024
Weeknotes went on vacation last week. Weeknotes thought about becoming Campnotes for a moment, but decided that being nothing was healthier. Now Weeknotes is Weeknotes again.
Monday, August 12
After four nights of camping, it's a luxury to wake in my own bed. The morning is cool with a slight blush of autumn. I love this time of year. It’s the start of harvest season, wildflowers are are at their peak, and as summer winds down, there's a bittersweet breath of change that never fails to electrify me. I'm most activated in the calendar's borderlands. Late August, November, April, early June, these are peak awareness periods for me. When the fullness of each season has yet to come, that's when the interesting stuff happens.
Weeknotes: July 29 - August 2, 2024
Monday, July 29
It's midday and my brother and I are driving up US-23 to Fenton in a borrowed truck. He puts on a low-key electronic mix that reminds me of Ulrich Schnauss' Far Away Trains Passing By, an album we both agree is the ideal downtempo vibe. We're picking up a couch our parents bought from a local furniture store to save them the shipping cost. Simultaneously, we both get a text from our boss. I'm driving, so Jamie reads it to me. Drama at the office. Six of our co-workers have been laid off amid a larger company-wide restructuring. Somehow, we have both survived another corporate culling, though it's hard to feel secure right now.