Breaking Bad

The Avett Brothers—the ‘Breaking Bad’ of Live Music

Formal Opening: This esteemed, academic discussion will argue that The Avett Brothers are to live music as Breaking Bad is to television drama: elevating the craft and challenging the accepted paradigm through optimal songwriting and storytelling, employing a diverse range of genres, effectively executing dynamically positioned theatricality.

Relaxed Opening: I saw The Avett Brothers for the first time last night, and they were freakin’ awesome!

And It Spread

The Avett Brothers made a stop here in Rochester to promote their new album, Magpie and the Dandelion; however, brothers and co. primarily performed older material from Emotionalism and I and Love and You. (more…)

That One Time I Married Special Agent Dana Scully

My favorite X-File comes from Season 10. It’s called “Marriage.” In this freaky episode, two harmless citizens dedicate the rest of their lives to each other until they die. The man and woman follow one another all across the world, leaving friends and family behind, and even if they aren’t always happy, they stick together and see through it. Quickly dispatched are Agents Mulder and Scully who investigate this unexplained phenomena.

Scully, the scientist, suggests brain trauma. Mulder, the dreamer, hypothesizes anew.

MULDER: What if they’re in love, Scully?

SCULLY: In love?

MULDER: Ancient Irish folklore suggests the idea of ‘love’ as early…

I Want to Believe

I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I’m a huge X-Files fan. Right? That little outdated show from the ‘90s is my TV bread and butter. It’s on Netflix now, which means I get to drag my wife through the entire series.

The X-Files means a lot to me. It’s the salient reason I ever started writing. As a child, I loved the idea of exploring different pockets of the country and each week discovering a different monster. Pushing boundaries and all. I began writing short stories in elementary school because of it.

My wife, she’s an awesome wife, got me a book for my birthday called The Philosophy of The X-Files. Nerdy? A little. You know your wife loves you when she encourages you to nerd-out.

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Breaking Sad

I’ve been feeling a lot of emotions lately. This moving across country thing, ya know? I’ve been all over the place. Like a good episode of Breaking Bad, I start content but end my day sweaty and angry.

All the packing and repacking and selling and goodbye parties and hugs. After awhile—no matter how much you want to go, now matter how easy it’s been to leave in the past—moving across country, away from everyone you know and love, just sucks. And I’ve been feeling it.

The other day, I nearly broke down in tears after hearing the main theme song from Home Alone 2 in a local toy shop.

HE GAVE THE TURTLE DOVE TO THE PIGEON LADY!!!

Saved by the Bail

We’ve been selling stuff, as mentioned, on Craigslist. The selection is getting thinner which is good. We’re down to the big ticket items like guitar amps and record players. These need to sell, NEED to sell. If they do then we can afford hotel rooms on the way to Rochester. If not, we’ll buy drugs and drive straight through. Well, no.

Craigslist has been affecting my emotional state more than I probably realize.

Every time a potential buyer bails on me (which is often, thank you Craigslist community), I shrug my shoulders; on the inside, though, I’m screaming, “DON”T THEY KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS?”

“I hate you,” is a text message I also fantasize about sending.

They’re not all bad though. Yesterday, we met a guy at outside a Cabelas to sell an old motorcycle (uhem… moped) helmet. This guy’s head, and that helmet? Match made in Heaven. He looked stout. I could’ve hugged him.

It seemed best to let the stranger leave without a warm embrace.

As he left, I noticed the last link to my scooter was gone. I’ve never talked about my scooter on here before, but let me tell you, I loved it. The scoot was a beast. The Lance Venice, my Lance Venice. 150ccs of pure power. Silver color, 2007 model. 0 to 60 in… well it never quite got to 60, but you get the point. I sold it last year, and God I miss that thing.

I sat there in the parking lot, drunk with emotion, caught between the misery of selling my scooter and the beauty of that stranger’s head wearing my helmet.

Not-so Sweet Emotions

You see what I mean? All these emotions. What’s going on here? This isn’t normal. I’ve been so damn emotional lately! Is this, maybe, the softer side of Kevin, breaking, bursting through the surface like Free Willy?

I’d argue and say that I’ve always had a softer side, in the movies especially. Play me the end of Homeward Bound and I’ll cry my way into puddles. “SHADOW!!!”

Maybe moving across country is just hard. Maybe it was never meant to be easy. Maybe I’m referencing old 90’s movies because I’m afraid of getting older and, right now, looking to the past is easier. Maybe I should’ve talked about my scooter sooner…

Maybe, I’m just breaking sad.

Scooter_Fotor

What’s your response? Any advice? How about a good Craigslist story?