I am remembering again, remembering why I love music.

It's because at the end of a stressful, argumentative, menstruating, exhaustive day there is an album that takes me away from it all. The corners of my lips curl up into a semi-smile, I quit picking at my cuticles, my mind stops racing- the music has taken me away from it all.

Calm. Enticing. Complete. Splendid. All I have to say is thank you.

It is the new relase from Two Gallants, in stores today.

I am in an exceptionally pleasant mood today and I can attribute this to hearing good music, such as

Standing at the Threshold, by Deer Tick

The song I thought of this morning, before all other songs:

Utilities, by The Weakerthans, from the album Reunion Tour

Overbooked. Overworked. Not over the edge, not yet- not ever.

Taking the time, ten minutes or so, to breathe. Write. And listen.

Emails before class, before bed, always an email to be read.

To do lists here. Sticky notes everywhere. Waking up to remeber that I forgot to wash my clothes for work. A warm wash cloth and an iron press will leave my pants almost fresh.

Need to leave the elementary ryhme skills and make phone calls.

rules for managing stress levels:

No more than one drink on Thurs, Fri, or Sat.
Do Spanish workbook before class EVERY DAY
No spending money till I have found accommodations for CMJ
Walk fat ass to school every day, no exceptions
Daily updated to-do list
Do one thing for self every day, no matter what

[Listening to Left Outlet 's advance demo. It's keeping me grounded and composed.]

cmj music marathon

its a party* of, by and for the industry


*party may be interpreted as an informal business meeting with a heavy focus on networking

The time has come. I may have to succumb to the reign of Apple.

My mp3 player is on its death bed. The screen is busted, the left headphone barely works, and the most detrimental malfunction of all- the FM tuner does not pick up WKNC. I can't listen to my radio station (Yes, MY radio station! I work there enough to call it mine. Hell I might as well call it my significant other.)

Do I get an iPODnano with a 4 or 8 GB capacity? Then I would need to buy an FM adapter. Do I buy a less expensive mp3 player and compromise space and durability?

This is not in my budget. Wait, I don't have a budget. But it definitely cuts into my trip to New York City. But I literally cannot live with out a music device. It's not so much that I have to be listening to music, in a manner of addiction, but rather I have to and need to be listening to music. Every spare moment I have to listen to a new album and check up on the DJs is crucial.

This brings me to a point that has been bothering me. When you have to listen to music and you have to listen to it critically versus listening simply for pleasure, music loses its appeal. It becomes a duty rather than recreation.

When an album can take me away from the duty, into the sound, into the art, and make my ears tingle then it is TRULY a good album.

Check out PLANE. Their album "I See Love In The Future" takes me away, makes me smile, and I even groove a lil.

I am having a hard time starting this. My mind isn't being kind, but then I am not being kind to it. My brain capacity is spread over my long list of things to do. I would like to sit down and write a wonderful entry about music but I can't right now. Not in a complacent mood. Rather, more fidgety and anxious.

This however, is a half-written piece I had to do for my creative non-fiction class. The subject was PLACE. I avoided writing this piece, and avoided developing the piece, as much as I avoid going to that place.
__________________________________

Where are you from?

It’s one of the three main questions that are asked within the first three minutes of meeting someone new while living the forever remembered, life directing, hallowed college years.

And because I’ve accumulated so many of the supposed famed college years, I have deciphered a keen translation of North Carolinian accents into their respective regions. The thick, deeply drawn southern accent places a person in the eastern part of the state. A good example would be a young man saying he is from “Whhhyt-vil.” Translation: he is from Whiteville- a small coastal area south of Wilmington. There is notable latitudial difference in coastal dialect. A person from the outer banks or northern coast of the state could be mistaken for a Yankee, and on the extreme a Bostonian. The mountains of North Carolina produce a different twist of southern twang, one that tends to be rapidly spat and slightly mumbled. And then there is the red flag- being from a county. The person has neglected the town, or community name, and rather referenced the county- in hopes that it will strike recollection of a highway sign or two.

Where am I from?

If someone were to ask me this in ten or fifteen years I would tell them Raleigh. But for right now, I am from Concord. It’s in between the two extremes of dialect, a comfortable medium. It is a large town with growing problems, and it continues to act like a small town. This creates issues, issues that are fueled by facades of a wonderful life. These facades are what hide generations of people who never left.

Technically, I am from Cabarrus County. It is very easy to get to ‘my house’. Simply take the exit for Dale Earnhardt Boulevard from Interstate 85, follow this till it intersects with Highway 3, head east bound till you pass the Food Lion and then take a left at the Sun-Drop bottling plant. Go north on Old Concord-Salisbury Road, passing over Rocky River Creek into Cabarrus County. ‘My house’ is in the measely- excuse-for-a-neighborhood on the right.

But I don’t need to say Cabarrus County; all I need to say is Concord. This gets the immediate response of: “Oh yeah, Concord Mills.” As deceiving as it may sound, Concord Mills is not a preserved historic site that represents the great wealth of textiles that flourished in the area. Rather, it is a 1.32 million square foot shopping mall. It is widely known for the giant Bass Pro fishing and hunting mega-store and is located a convenient five minutes from Lowe’s Motor Speedway. It reigns as the most visited attraction in North Carolina; beating the outer banks and Blue Ridge Parkway. Yes, more people rather go to a mall then experience the outdoors.

But the mall, the Nascar, the four-lane renamed highways with too much traffic are characteristics of what Concord is now. It’s not what I am familiar with. Its not what I choose to remember. My Concord is different. And those directions are not how I get ‘home’.

I take the back roads to get home- I don’t go inside the city limits. From Highway 73 I take Irish Potato to Gold Hill road. I wind down the turns of Neisler, passing the Bosts’ small farm, and hit Old Concord-Salisbury Road north of where my house is. This route gives me time to prepare. The air is clean, the traffic is light, and the grass is green. I can smell the earth.

And I still go to the diner where I worked during High School. The name is different now. It’s no longer Ted’s Family Restaurant. It was sold to the brother of the Greek family who owned it. The food is the same at the newly named Parkway Diner- country style steak with rice, baked chicken that is somehow as greasy as fried chicken, and pinto beans remain exclusive to only Sunday.

You see, I make Concord what I want it to be. It depends on how long I stay there as to what it will become. A few hours, one day, maybe two, but never more than three. Concord is why I remained in Raleigh the summer after my first year in college. It has sticky tricks to it, a capability of dulling a personlity, and a way of sucking all motivation or ambition from someone’s spirit. It is a trap.

Exhausted.

23 hours at the comedy club this weekend, classes began on Wednesday, and radio work was busy as the industry prepares for Rock-tober. All I want to do right now is sleep, and cry. I am verry worried about my foot. I hyper-extended my left foot in May and it is bothering me quite badly. I went to the health center in June. The x-rays revealed no fractures or chips. I apparently just bruised the ball of my foot, which now hurts 85% of the day. I get upset when I think about it. It's a mixture of fear and confusion.

I don't have health insurance so I can't afford to see and orthopedist, the best I get is Ibuprofen and the student health center. And so I cry. Because all I want is to see a doctor. I want to know what is wrong with my foot. I want to continue to live an active, happy life. I want my dad to know how upset I am with him for failing to provide health insurance on a regular basis. I want ReFuel America to know how their pitiful and unsuccessful attempt at distributing biodiesel has effected my father, and me. I want "President" Bush to know that the health care system in the Land of the Free is fucked. I want my wisdom teeth out. I want to see the neurologist for my annual check up. I want to see my psychiatrist.

I guess I want too much.

So, rather, I listen to Una and read Emerson's poetry for class in the morning.

Quote of the day, coming from the AP story "Surf's Up in Gaza; good will, too" written by Aron Heller, extracted from the News & Observer, picked up outside the mini-mart on the corner of Hillsbourgh St. and Ashe Ave.

"God will surf with the devil if the waves are good."

Dorian Paskowitz, a retired doctor who has been surfing for 75 years

~~~
New records are arriving in waves, high tide on Mondays and Tuesdays. Excited about the new Aseop Rock, not excited about the new Talib Kweli.

The new Liars album is on point, accessible, and rock-orgasmic. Rilo Kiley is good, in a new-commercial-for another overpriced electronic device- kind of way; its just a matter of time. New Josh Ritter release: eh, it's alright, but it's like someone is pushing him in the wrong direction. Josh, it's okay to follow up an album with one of a similar sound, don't over produce what isn't there.

I'm out. Another English class to be attended.

Its coming.


The entries will return soon. I've been busy lately, on purpose. Staying busy is my therapy.

~
Reflections on five years in Raleigh.

Diving into the INDUSTRY.

Revisiting, "Fault Lines"

Worth A Listen

~

It's all coming. Soon. And I am not taking any chemistry classes this semester so maybe my writing will finally come to life, until then go check out Oliver Future. You will not be disappointed. I have tables to wait on and money to make. Oh yes, and a haircut tomorrow.

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~