Dinosaurs

Just a slow Sunday trying to figure out what food stuffs to prepare and have at the ready for the week to come.  I sometimes miss the care-free days of my youth when giant packages of frozen processed food substitutes--say, chimichangas or maybe a deep dish lasagna--still seemed both delicious and like a good idea.  The entire meal was probably fabricated from corn, but that didn't used to matter.  Ah well.  Now we're stuck trying to figure out convenient and delicious ways of combining real ingredients into meals.  And this is progress?

Speaking of progress, or at least progression, I still have vivid memories of a summer night in Virginia as a high school student.  I am alone behind the wheel of a massive, yellow Oldsmobile, slicing through the night in western Albemarle on county roads.  The windows are down and the air is thick, sticky, and sweet.  The sky is dark, moonless, with stars draped horizon to horizon but only occasionally visible through the tree canopy.  I'm a teenager, so I'm probably not paying much attention to the road, but rather focus on the nasal drawl of J. Mascis singing atop a wall of noise and feedback on Dinosaur Jr.'s "Living All Over You" album.  Dinosaur Jr. put out albums with catchy melody matched in equal parts by sonic chaos.  A perfect teen moment, that I had the opportunity to recapture some 20+ years later in Girdwood, Alaska.

J. Mascis, sans Dinosaur Jr. but with his band the Fog, came and played two nights at the Alyeska day lodge.  God knows why.  Word in the paper is that he likes to ski and someone in his band is a friend of someone at Alyeska.  Whatever the reasons, C and I took the drive down and attended the first legitimate rock show I've been to in a long time.  There were maybe 50 people in attendance on the second night.  The band did almost solely old Dinosaur Jr. songs.  Looking around, I fit right in with a healthy number of forty-something men in the audience, each of us singing along to all of the songs.  We seemed to define a demographic that hadn't progressed from the late-eighties.  But we enjoyed ourselves, so what the hell?  Primary difference between now and then: ear-plugs.  Photo of the show:

Since it isn't clear, I'll narrate for you.  That is me in the foreground, probably grinning.  J. Mascis is the one with the guitar in front of the small wall of Marshalls.  And that is it; end of story.

Onward into May.