I don't know where to start. It has been too long. Life has been chaotic, stressful, and disapointing. Writing has been neglected and now my fingers find it hard to translate the muck that is impeding a necessary level of functionality. Such a sloppy sentence.

The Oliver Future album "Pax Futura" came in today. A gorgeous blend of progressive rock, soulful lyrics, dancy bass lines, all wrapped with a retrospective tone. Lovely.

Started reading Tuesdays with Morrie. I hope it gets better, the writing is bland. A good story deserves excellent writing, never vice versa.

I need, want, and will be doing a blog about this whole internet radio- royalty rates hike- crap fest currently playing out in the music industry. I am quite pissed about it all. I fear it will, if it hasn't already, spill over into traditional radio waves. Since when has it been okay to control what I do with my speakers? Never, and it needs to stay that way. If a business or person wants to play WKNC 88.1 FM, or any other radio station, for all to hear then they should be able to do so. Radio stations should not have to pay ridiculous amounts of money to play songs. The music industry needs to fix their broken business model and find another form of income. Radio is a public service and a form of press. Heard of the first amendment? I guess not, freedom to hear wasn't included.

Oliver Future---- "I'm not afraid of my head anymore."

There is a meeting I should have been at thirty minutes ago. I need to leave soon, but I am still in my bathing suit- it's cold, damp, and another reason why I don't want to go.

Definitely check out "Pax Futura." It would be injustice to pick three tracks worth listening to. The whole album is worth listening to, a rarity these days.

my philosophy is that if I work enough, and stay extremely busy, then there is not enough time to think about shit

which is why i am working on the fourth of july

Playlist for 6/21 while the server was down

3:08 Tenement Teeth/ Pela
3:13 Hide Another Mistake/ The 88
3:16 Make It with chu / Queens of the stoneage
3:20 The Chair / Greenskeepers
3:24 I used to dance with my daddy/ Datarock
3:30 Rainbow Warriors / Coco Rosie
3:33 You don't know what love is/ White Stripes
3:37 Brother/Sister / Hymns
3:47 Sufidrop / Sean Hayes
3:44 why did i drink so much last night?/ Fourth of July
3:45 Cascade Range/ The Strugglers
3:51 101 Miles and Runnin/ Je Suis France
3:54 Summer Snow/ Honored Guests
3:57 Conventional Wisdom/ Built to Spill
4:03 The A-bomb Woke Me Up/ Swimming Pool Q's
4:07 Crumble/ Dinosaur Jr.
4:11 Waiting Room/ Fugazi
4:17 Threshold Apprehension / Frank Black
4:22 Short Memory / Midnight Oil
4:25 14th St. Break / Beastie Boys
4:31 Nothin' No / David Vandervelde
4:34 In Each Thursh, A Finch / Heads On Sticks
4:38 Mr. Violin and Dancing Bear / Page France
4:40 John Harper's Heartbreak / Hearts and Daggers
4:46 Breathless / Jerry Lee Lewis
4:52 Summertime Bossa Nova / Seth Kauffman
4:56 Under The Moonlight / Travis
4:58 Buttoned Down Pt. 2 / The Patsys

why do i drink?
- to dampen reality

why do i pick at my cuticles?
-because i am nervous

why did i meet him?
-because i went to the pool hall to drink

what can i do to make this week better than the last?
-exercise, clean, listen to new music

why am i nervous?
-the upredicability of life can be fearful

i need something new, fresh
something

Accepting Donations

I could use a set of speakers. Tuesday I drove out to Carboro and bought a turntable. It's sitting on top of the early 70's-era stereo receiver that my dad gave me, which is perched on top of a small orange-plastic cooler.

[I just got very distracted. Check out a blog I did about the White Stripes on my myspace blog. myspace.com/kellyreid Who's the immigrant now? ]

DUNCE for the week goes to KELLY REID
self nomination, self-awarded

I won't even try to defend myself. I deserve the award, plain and simple. The following email will explain my situation.

~~~
TO: [my teacher]
SUBJECT: class at 10:20

Professor Warren

So it is 9:50 and I do not know if I will make it to class on time, or at
all.

Last night I came home to find my petunia infested with whiteflys, which
were beginning to take over my gardenia, which is right next to my jade
plant and on the same ledge as my pineapple sage. My indoor garden ledge
on my third floor apartment.

So I went to home depot, got some nasty pesticide for the flowers and then
took care of the jade plant and sage by washing them with a biodegradable
all natural soap, which I did in the shower. Which caused my drain to
clog up.

Not my smartest move, letting dirt run down the drain. But I was not
about to let my mature jade plant and thriving pineapple sage to become the
victims of whiteflys.

I have been up since 8 AM and the maintenance guy is still working on my
drain. I have not taken a shower. And I cannot leave my dog here in the
apartment with him working on the drain. She's not to kind of weird guys
here when I am not.

Hopefully my drain will be fixed very soon and I will come to class as
soon as possible. I really want to talk about fuel sources.

Thanks,
Kelly Reid

~~~

Currently, the shower is fixed but the kitchen sink is now broken. I can shower and get ready for class but he has to come back and fix the kitchen drain. Apparently, the two are connected.

I don't want to get hat-hair from this DUNCE cap. Total bummer.

On a not so DUNCE cap move, check out the article about Local Beer Local Band night that is currently in the Independent Weekly .

Today I was reminded, yet again, why I love music so much.

It's hearing a song when I need it the most.
Listening in awe as to how much it stirs the emotion.
The lyrics tell, the keys push, and the tone hurts- it is almost too real.

"Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy is what I needed the most.
With everything that has happened this week: the heartache, the tears, the pain, the frustration, the fear, and finding out the truth; this song was the hug I needed.

It may sound sappy, but I don't care. Because even the closest of friends don't always have the right advice, the dog or cat offers a limited level of comfort, therapists have a formulaic right answer for every problem, and the more drinks consumed the emptier the heart feels.

It's hearing that song that makes it a little easier to push on. It's why I love music.

Maybe I will win the lottery


Because that might be my only chance I have at finishing college.


I was talking to a friend earlier this week about college life. I had just been approved for more financial aid, a result of my father being denied a PLUS loan. My friend, thirteen years older than I, was telling me about his series of college transfers and degree changes and in the back of my mind all I could think about was my five-figure amount of debt. He continued to tell me about about being a in a fraternity, blah blah blah, and then he asked me what I thought about sororities. In one answer, it all came out, perfectly.

"You know, it's not the designer jeans and purses that I envy. I'm not jealous over the SUVs or the fancy get-togethers. I don't care about that, it's just stuff," I said. And then with one sentence, I heard myself say what I really felt about the situation,

"The only thing I envy about people like that is that when they're done with college they will be debt free and I will be twenty grand plus in the hole."

I am not angry at them. No one chooses what financial situation they are born into. What I am most upset about is the system.

Financial aid, on both federal and state levels, is determined by your parent or parents income. In my case, I am awarded financial aid based on my father's income. I am not rich enough to have my father pay for it and not challenged enough to qualify for grant (free) money. About a year ago I did receive some grant money. My father had lost his job and was unemployed for almost a year. When we filed for aid it opened the door for grant money- a whole year after he had been without health insurance. This grant money came after my grades suffered because I was working to make sure I could afford to see my doctor, eat, pay rent, and buy my prescription. And grant money is considered a source of taxable income. I had to pay taxes on the grant money--- money I received because of a financial hardship. Thanks Uncle Sam!

The bottom line is this: I am going into debt to earn more money.

Oh, but student loans, that's good debt.

Debt is debt. Interest rates, low or fixed, still create interest. You have to pay the loan plus interest back, no matter what. Declare bankruptcy and student loan debt is still there.

Now, I am facing the point where I am quickly approaching the max amount of student loan/financial aid given for obtaining an undergraduate degree. I've been in college since the Fall of 2002, withdrawn from two semesters, and struggled to make it through each semester. College hasn't been easy. I've had friends and family die, personal health issues, and financial situations hinder me from being the academically gifted student I was in middle and high school. I could write, and need to write, a separate essay about my first three years at NC State. But that shouldn't be the focal point of my financial aid evaluation. I am still in college. I've finally figured out what I want to do. I am making progress towards earning two degrees. And, I will graduate.

I will find some way to pay for college. And when I am done, out in the real world, and have my student-loan debt payed off I will start a scholarship fund. There will not be a focus on academic performance or extreme financial hardship. I want to be able to give money to those who have no other option except student loans. I want to encourage and help someone to finish their education, perhaps give them an opportunity to study abroad- something I won't be able to do. I want to help prevent their debt from reaching the twenties. So they don't have to cry, and stress, and worry about how college is going to be paid for.

"I feel like I oughta come to at least one of the thousands of concerts you've told me about"


quote of the day

~Avett Brothers at Schoolkids at noon in Raleigh NC~

I came into the office today to get the mail. I was hoping that one of the prisoners had written me back so that I could add another level to my paper. No letters from prisoners, so I dug through the overflowing box of envelopes looking for any packages that seemed suspicious. "Sky Blue Sky" was supposed to be here last week. I grabbed three cardboard envelopes that seemed too generically corporate. Checking my email I opened the first one- no luck. Steve walked in and opened one and shouted,

"WILCO!"

"What, really?!?"

"Hah, just kidding." Freaking bastard.

"Man, if I don't get that Wilco album today I am not going to play it at all, " I said in exaggerated frustration. "It was supposed to mail out two weeks ago, or at least that's what they told me," I complained as I began to tear open the last envelope. I pulled the CD out and removed the piece of paper wrapped around it,

"WILCO!!!! It's about damn time. Woooo-hoooo, WILCO!"

I would have played it even if it didn't come today- I just don't like being at the mercy of larger labels, especially when I could have very easily downloaded it. But I waited and it has made for a wonderful start to the week.

Time to write one hell of a term paper. It's due at 4. I guess Nonesuch Records and I do have something in common- professional procrastination.

The end is near

Two exams down and two papers left.

B- in Spanish 101, which is pretty good considering I didn't do any of the homework
C+ in Quantitative Analytical Chemistry, not my favorite class so I'll take the C

I have a paper due tomorrow by four o'clock for my journalism class. It is about the relationship between WKNC and the area prisons. The station has a dedicated listener base in correctional facilities which has provided for an interesting history of fan mail.

My last assignment is due on Tuesday at 1 o'clock for my memoir writing class. I will be reading a two page excerpt of my revised memoir. Because of this class, I now know what I want to do with my creative writing degree. Through out the course of the semester when I would run into people and talk about how classes were I would always say, "I'm loving my memoir writing class." Everyone would respond the same way- they would ask how I was writing a memoir a such a young age. You don't have to be in your fifties, or thirties for that matter, and have led a daring life to write a memoir. I am twenty-three and have enough content to fill a book, but content is only half of the equation. You have to know how to recall your memories and recreate them, bring them to life. The writing skills must be strong and there has to be a certain sense of fearless exposure. My memoir I am revising for my final assignment spans many years of my life and focuses on a feature of my skin. I am hoping to have my professor help me fine tune it and then I will send it off for publications. I will post it on either Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.

Until then, here is a quickie-playlist I threw together. Get your poolside drink on and keep one cold for me.

[Dream job- poolside DJ]

Yes, there is a Fountains of Wayne song on there, and yes, I despise Stacy's Mom, but I'll be damned if Traffic and Weather doesn't just make you want to dance. They are pretty damn good at making catchy pop songs, those bastards.

Fountains of Wayne Traffic and Weather

Muse Supermassive Black Hole

The Gossip Your Mangled Heart

The Ettes Soft Focus

The Fratellis Flathead

Elevator Action Start a War

The Majestic Twelve Condoleezza, Check My Posse

Love Of Diagrams The Pyramid

I’m From Barcelona This Boy

Honeycut Tough Kid

Just Jack Starz In Their Eyes

LCD Soundsystem North American Scum

Joakim Lonely Hearts

Lily Allen Take What You Take

Louis Armstrong I Still Get Jealous

The Love Kills Theory The Love Kills Theory

The Low Frequency Jimmy Legs

The Knife You Make Me Like Charity

I really need to be studying


But I am not. Rather, I am in the east wing of the library on one of the new Mac computers. I discovered someone's library of music on iTunes and I am fairly impressed. I found what I thought were a few old songs from Wilco that I weren't familiar with. I googled a track title and it turned out to be from their upcoming release "Sky Blue Sky." Now let me clarify, I did not download the new Wilco album. I have been waiting patiently and eagerly for it to arrive in the mail. I could have downloaded it. I've heard it's all over the web. But I haven't. Rather, I called Nonesuch records and Warner Brothers and reminded them that WKNC is one of the top 12 college radio stations in the nation, we broadcast at 25000 watts, and to please make sure that we get the new Wilco. Still no album.

Hmm, for some reason that library of music just disappeared. I guess that person logged in on another computer. Go figure. The Wilco tunes were good while they lasted. Maybe "Sky Blue Sky" will come in the mail today. It's supposed to, that's what Warner Brothers told me.

Maybe, just maybe, they will send the 12-inch. Probably not, but after listening to those songs I would love to hear it on vinyl. Ear pleasing, vintage dancing, sweet soothing summer vinyl.

Daydream of waitress

"I can't come into work today, I've got bad allegeries and my head is killing me,"

It would be perfect.

Holding onto his waist and leaning into the curves. My ponytail hanging outside the helmet, dancing in the wind. The strings from my cut-off jeans shorts whipping, tickling my thighs. The sun blaring on my shoulders. I squeeze tighter and chuckle when he drops gears and pushes the speed limit.

Drinking cold beer after a dip in the lake. A slow dance while he hums a tune from The Band or Bob Dylan. Ringing the water out of my hair. Wearing the musky, flannel shirt that was stowed away in the saddle bag. Goosebumps the whole way home.

7 minutes of being 23
Analytical Separations
Solvent Extractions
Gas Chromatography
High Performance Liquid Chromatography
large redeye
blueberry bagel
dEUS, "worst case scenario"

That's me. I remember dancing on the pool table. I don't remember being slouched over on the side of the pool table. And I don't know which happened first. You can read Grayson Currin's review of the last night of King's at www.indyweek.com (Image taken by Derek Anderson)

I miss King's


My birthday is on Friday and I have no where to celebrate. Well, there are plenty of places I could go. There is the Jackpot- not my crowd on the weekends, somewhere on Gleenwood Avenue- too fake, the Alibi- almost like the Jackpot but in a basement, Slim's- too smokey. I could list many more bars or clubs and I would find sufficient reasons to rule them all out because the only place I want to go to is King's. I want to dance and thrash my body to rock n' roll. I want the bartenders to tell me happy birthday. I want to drink one too many PBRs and wash my hands with terribly cold water. I want to chat with Mike D or Dave. I want to run into people and talk about music. I want to feel at home. I want my King's back- that's all I want for my birthday.

NOW
I am cranky and frustrated, and leaning towards extravagant. I want to take my blog title and have it plastered on a towering brick wall, construct a water balloon sling, and decorate. Paint-filled balloons would burst on impact and add a bit of artistic, stress relieving flare- chartreuse, electric blue, deep teal, pale pink, faded yellow, vintage orange, perhaps a light latte.

But rather, I will dive into the box of mail and search for new music.

confessions of a dj

record sales are down, file sharing is rampant, the future of internet radio is bleak, my favorite local music venue has closed--- lord please let me have a future in the music and radio industry, i really don't want to have to use my chemistry degree [insert sounds of frustration with quantitative chemical analysis lab]

This is an assignment I had to do for my English 315 class (Advanced News Article Writing). The assignment was to describe the brickyard, a central area on campus.

Kelly Reid

ENG 315 Reavis

3/1/07

It’s ten past nine o’clock and my cowboy boots are soaked. My feet feel cold and heavy inside the wet leather, but they still move. I can’t stop myself from dancing to the music. Bombadil is playing a toned down set in the breezeway of Harleson Hall. Their charming, honest folk music tries to warm the cold air but the fierce rain fights back with gusts of damp, chilled wind. It’s the last night of Shack-A-Thon and a thunderstorm has left this area of campus deserted, except for three musicians and audience of four.

Hours earlier the middle of North Carolina State’s campus was bustling with students. The large brick lain field sprawls out almost 75 feet in every direction from the center and is the plaza of central campus. This week eleven student organizations have built shacks in the middle of the brickyard to raise money and awareness for Habitat for Humanity. The shacks are in four rows; assembled like a village with brick allies running between each row. Most of the shacks resemble traditional houses, but there are two that stand out: a tee-pee and a giant rectangular prism that looks like a radio.

Two students from each organization are required to be at their hand-built, temporary housing 24 hours a day for five days straight, which entails spending the night. Three nights ago I suffered through a long night inside the radio. My dog and I spent the night in the shack for WKNC. I went to sleep on top of a four-foot long mattress with my pillow and quilt. I awoke with a backache and the cheek of my face planted on the cold bricks.

Thunder rumbles and the last notes of “Jellybean Wine” chime from the xylophone. The rain is pouring from the sky and small creeks run through the brick allies of the shack village. I clap my hands and cheer, lighting flashes. I turn to my buddy Nick,

“You ready to go see Valient Thorr?” I ask. He looks at the brickyard. Our cars are parked on Hillsbourgh Street- at the top of the hill, on the other side of the library, past the brickyard.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” hey says. We roll up our jeans, pull our jackets over our heads, and make a dash for our cars. The water has made the bricks slick. Running up the brickyard the toes of my boots cut into the streams of water and I can feel the cold liquid leak through the stitching of my boots.

MY BROTHER IS IN THE ARMY [and he is still alive]

I parallel parked perfectly, as usual. Grabbed my book-bag, cd's, and purse and made my way down the side walk. Two guys were walking towards me, both in base ball hats. The guy on the left was short and had a St. Patty's Day green t-shirt on. He was smoking a cigarette and his footsteps were wide, like a faux cowboy. The other was tall and wore a pitifully-pale yellow polo shirt. He had a lanky body that weighed his shoulders down, and the centerpiece of his face was an obnoxiously large nose. As I approached them they continued their travels and conversation,

"I didn't vote. I'm not even registered," the tall one said. I couldn't help myself. Maybe it was the PBRs, maybe it was Valient Thorr.

"That's pitiful," I blurted out.

"I serve our country, that's more than you do," the tall guy responded as I passed them. I rounded the corner of the sidewalk, turned my head and yelled back,

"My brother is in the army, and he votes. He's got two up on you."

I won't point fingers. I won't blame an elected official. But I will get mad and further the debate:

Does democracy depend on journalism, or does journalism depend on democracy?

confessions of a dj

goal- be successful in NPR
hopes- work for KCRW
dream- arrange soundtracks for movies
ambitions- all of the above