Regrets, I've Not Had That Many

Today is the 40th anniversary of the date of my birth. Otherwise known as my 40th birthday. Naturally, I've been reflecting (though only a little, as I try to look forward as much as possible) on regrets and whatnot. Basically, I don't have any major regrets. Minor ones, that's another story. Topping the list is the amount of money I wasted in my twenties and early thirties, mostly on alcohol and parking tickets. Oh, and I also drove drunk way too often in those days. I'm fortunate to be alive, really.

The other real regret I have is that my "career" (quotes denoting that it's a joke to call it that) is so undefined and unsatisfying. Tempering my woe is that I've always taken jobs for personal reasons rather than professional reasons, and this has resulted in happenstances like meeting my wife and finally moving back home to Chicago. So, it's impossible to truly regret this lack-of-career path. However, when you dislike your job so intensely, it's tough sometimes not to think, "What if I'd done that instead?" But those feelings pass pretty quickly.

And hell, I'm off to Wrigley today, and how can I be upset about being in that position? Exactly.

Mack Daddy

Wacky album covers are always a good time-waster.

This one is my current favorite. Not only is this young lady naked, she's trying to look enthralled with this middle-aged hack while on her knees on a piano. Comfortable, I'm sure.

And I love where this album was recorded. Sounds like a first-class joint.

Said It Too Late

You may have heard about this, a tragic car accident in the Chicago 'burbs last week. Three guys go out to lunch and die when someone trying to off herself slams her car into theirs. Think about it...you say to someone, "Have a good lunch, Michael," and you don't see them alive again. Not to get all touchy-feely -- especially since I fail to do this almost every day -- but this story is a reminder to cherish each and every day you're able to live and interact with your friends and loved ones.

Dig deeper into the story, and you'll find one of the guys killed was the drummer in Silkworm, a fine, underrated band. Not that it's important in this or any other context, but I never got around to seeing Silkworm, and now I never will. (Some nice memories are posted on the band's message board at the site above.)

Making the story even more bizarre, the girl responsible for the deaths is a model. I post this here not for prurient reasons, but just because it adds an odd layer to the whole thing. Here's an attractive woman who would seem to have a lot going for her, yet she felt compelled to try to kill herself. Instead, she kills three innocent bystanders, irrevocably altering so many lives other than her own. I can't even put how I feel about all of this into words, other than to marvel at how fucked up the world almost always is.

Bamboozled

Turns out the visit from my old friend Hannan was all part of an elaborate ruse, as my wife threw me a surprise 40th birthday party Saturday night. Considering it was held 12 days before my actual birthday, the element of surprise was in full effect. Fun was had by all, especially yours truly, though I'm still nursing this upper respiratory nonsense.

Catching a Coldplay

Good news: My old (and I do mean old, like 47) friend Hannan is coming in today to help me get an early start on my 40th birthday celebration, such as it is. Bad news: I've come down with my first illness since August 2003, a nicely timed upper respiratory infection. I'll have to fight through it.

Good news: Nada Surf, one of my favorite bands, will be in Chicago October 14. Bad news: I will be in Louisville at a rehearsal dinner.

Additional music content: I don't have any Coldplay albums, but I am loving "Speed of Sound." Possibly the best single of the year, along with Beck's "E-Pro."

That's all I've got. "Enjoy."

Life Affirmed

There's really only this two-word phrase to describe Sloan's gig last night at the Double Door: fuckin' fun. These Canucks really know how to put on a rock 'n' roll show. I'll go as far to say that bassist/guitarist/drummer (the dude's multi-talented, eh?) Chris Murphy is the most entertaining live performer I've seen since prime-era Bob Pollard. Heady praise, to be sure. But, damn, that was a blast, even better than the top-notch show we saw last year at Metro. What was really encouraging/heartwarming was that the crowd was at least 75 percent Sloan diehards who were singing along to every word and clapping along with gusto. Special night.

The one bum note was that Murphy did the old "lick the mic stand" thing (which Sloan freak Jeff has a photo of on his blog), and that's schtick that's as unnecessary as it is gross.

Speaking of music, which I really haven't lately, I'm enjoying new records by Longwave, Portastatic and Idlewild. Check them out (not sure if they're all released yet; yes, I get promos, I'm so cool). All three records are on a par with, or better than, previous stuff in their catalogs.

Given that the Sloan show was on a school night, I don't have the energy to discuss this in depth, but after yesterday's Cubs debacle, the team is done. Corey Patterson (he doesn't even deserve a link) has been farmed out, a couple of young bucks have been called up, and the Fire Dusty talk is at its peak. There's no joy in Wrigleyville, but would we expect there to be?