(I promise this blog isn't a lie like the last one. I'm an unreliable narrator by nature, but I'm not usually that bad.)
I know what you're thinking. "It was only a matter of time before Tim's rampant egocentrism and constant self deprecation led to inevitably referring to himself in the third person."
And while you're probably right, it hasn't happened just yet. (Talk to me in five months and let's see where we are.)
So here's why this blog is titled as it is: Remember a few blogs back when I got paranoid that a major premium cable channel had been stealing my identity for a cartoon? Towards the end of that entry, I mentioned that another guy has already snagged the TimKaran.com domain name.
Funny thing happened last week.
The other Tim Karan e-mailed me.
I was a little reluctant to open it since, well, the guy is mayor pro tempore of an entire town, and I'm a snotty kid (more or less) who was whining on a national level (even though only 14 people read this blog, they're spread out all over this great country).
But, actually, he had no idea I'd even mentioned him. It was just a crazy coincidence. Chick it out [sic]:
Tim, Well hello, So I'm at a meeting last week in DC and I have on my name tag "TIM KARAN" and this guy stops me and says, "I love your work with Altpress." Guess he thought I was you. I went back to the room and googled myself and learned I am not the only tim karan. I thought that was only a problem for j. smith. Any way thought I'd pass on you have a big fan in the DC area. Take Care. Tim
Timothy Karan Mayor Pro-Tempore City of Creedmoor
First of all, what this clearly means is that I'm famous as hell. But it sucks that the first time I was recognized just for my name on a name tag, it wasn't actually me at all. I coulda signed an autograph, but instead I was 371 miles northwest, probably playing Madden in my undies.
So I wrote my respectable alter-ego back and he returned the favor, and I'm pretty sure we're best friends forever now (hmm...if only there were a way to abbreviate 'best friends forever'...).
The moral of this story, I guess, is that if you Google yourself and find out that there's another person with your name, don't automatically get territorial. They may be pretty rad. Plus, you never know when you're gonna need to fake your own death, and having someone else with your name has probably gotta have some advantage.
So apparently it's mandatory today for us AP staffers to blog about our experience at the Gaslight Anthem/Thrice/Alkaline Trio/Rise Against show last night.
Scott posted pretty extensive set lists and Thrice's cover of "Helter Skelter." Jen showed some iPhone pics mixed with some Palin bashing.
So here we go:
I've lived in Cleveland for a little more than two years now, but I'm still fairly incapable of getting from Point A to Point Anywhere. Sometimes when there's construction and I have to deviate from my routine path to work, five hours later I realize I'm somewhere outside of Wabash, Indiana. (The weird thing is that I always end up in Wabash.)
So getting from work to the Time Warner Amphitheater often leads to chain smoking and broken dreams.
I was already about 35 minutes late when I realized I was nowhere near the venue. It was around that time that I also noticed that my "Check Gauges" light was flashing (which is my car's polite way of saying, "You forgot to get gas again, you ridiculous douche.")
By the time this all became clear, however, it was too late, and my car stalled out somewhere in the Cleveland Flats. Considering that there's pretty much nowhere to park downtown, and I had come to rest in what looked to be a relatively legal space in an alley outside an abandoned restaurant, I figured I'd just get my power-walk on.
I wasn't sure which direction to go, but I was confident I could handle it. I was a cub scout for three months. I figured if I got lost, I could sustain myself on pine cones filled with peanut butter.
The Flats at this time of evening aren't exactly the type of place respectable, God-fearing people want to be. So, as I passed random derelicts shouting to themselves, I did my best to pretend like I was talking on my cell phone. One man, however, who I would come to know as "Belligerent Theo" saw through my ruse. He began walking next to me and asked, "Say man, wanna buy a fax machine?" I thought to myself, either this guy sees me as the sort of cat who could use a fax machine or slang for black tar heroin has gotten very abstract."
I informed him that I was all set on the fax front, but he insisted on guiding me to the venue because he was supposed to meet "his boy 'Skee'" around there anyway. We talked a lot about government spy brain implants and before we knew it, we were around back of the amphitheater. I could hear the last of the Gaslight set and I assumed this was where Theo and I would part. Theo, however, insisted I hang out to meet 'Skee.' I was just about to fake another cell phone call and dash until a figure approached from down the road. "Yo SKEE!," yelled Theo and I thought for certain I only had 14 seconds to live. "What's up, Theo?," the figure replied, in a voice that sounded eerily familiar to me. I turned and saw Matt Skiba (of Alkaline Trio, and apparently, surreal situations). It took me a second, but I put together that Skee = Skiba.
They talked a little about some time four years ago that involved somebody named Olly and a little about government spy brain implants. Theo introduced us and Matt asked if we wanted to go backstage. I said, "Well, yeah."
He escorted us through the gates (the guards all said hey to Theo) and we shuffled back to the VIP area. We stepped onto his bus and I instantly recognized Dustin Kensrue from Thrice sitting in the lounge playing Super Mario Kart. If you know anything about me, you know that Dustin Kensrue is my favorite frontman and that Super Mario Kart is freaking awesome. He asked me if I wanted to play, and instead of saying something cool, I shouted, "I get Yoshi!"
He stood up and said quietly but firmly, "No, man. I'm Yoshi. I'm always Yoshi." I thought he was joking, but he just kept staring at me.
So I gingerly picked up the controller and reluctantly played as Bowser. My strategy was to find as many Bowser Shells as possible (they knock all other karts off the track), and he said something to me that I'll never forget: "You can't live your life looking for Bowser Shells, man."
After the game, he stood to leave and embraced me heartily for a good 16 seconds. "Good journey, my friend," he said. "Do you wanna watch the show from the stage?"
I said, "Uh, yeah."
So I saw everything--the greatest show arguably ever--from right next to the band.
Afterwards, the rest of the guys in Thrice and most of Rise Against asked me to go to IHOP for Strawberry Banana French Toast.*
* - None of this actually happened. I forgot that the show was last night and couldn't get on the list in time. Instead, I watched It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia and ate two S'Mores Pop Tarts. But from what Scott and Jen said, it sounded like a great show.
It was quite an emotional week in the AP Fantasy Football League (witty league name still pending). The emotions ran the gamut: Angry, frustrated, jubilant, hungry, forlorn, devastated, apathetic...
I, personally, was so enthralled with my win over Scott Heisel last week, that I almost forgot to set my lineup for this weekend.
Turned out it didn't matter, though (on account of the awesomeness).
I know our art director Christopher checks in just to get the scores, so I'll get right to 'em.
Dandy Van Slykes (101) def. Venice Marmots (78) The biggest tragedy in this win for me was that I didn't engage in any trash talk with my opponent (Rochester's own) Laura. She's big on using all of the Smack Talk message boards to their fullest extent. And I let her down. I was an absentee owner. I did spend the weekend away from my computer and in Pittsburgh. But that's no excuse. Luckily, my No. 1 pick Steven Jackson finally decided he was, in fact, ready for some football and came alive for the first time this season. The timing was great since Laura's first-rounder Adrian Peterson turned in his best numbers of the year. I'm also kinda impressed that my squad was able to pull out the W with six of my players on bye weeks. So here's some belated trash: You're starting two Buffalo Bills, huh? You do realize punters don't count in fantasy, right?
Team Exitonefiftytwo (83) def. Awesometown Unicorns (63) Cameron started Tony Romo at QB. Ben started J.T. Irrelevant or whatever his name is from the 49ers. Which team do you think won? If you're anything like me, you'll be shocked to know that Ben managed to squeak by with a 20-point win. It might have had something to do with the fact that Cam started both a kicker and defense who didn't play last week, and Ben net 26 points out of his. It also could be that Tony Romo is imposing too much pressure on himself because he realizes what his failure could eventually lead to.
San Diego Whale Vaginas (97) def. I Hate California (83) This is the game that took all my hopes and dreams, burned them and buried them in the ground. In the battle between winless teams, AP's Scott Heisel managed to eek out a victory over my girlfriend Katie. That was thanks almost entirely to Jets receiver Laveranues Coles catching 72 touchdowns in one quarter. Seriously, if Coles had posted human wide receiver numbers instead of the twenty-freaking-eight he managed, Katie would have likely won. And now she's informed me that she quits. Thanks, Scott. When I show up at your door when I'm 74 and looking for any human contact to keep me from reflecting on my lonely, loveless life, you better answer. And you better have Oreos.
Rambunctious Coons (123) def. 85 Mafia (72) While our copy editor Jennifer managed a few more points than her 16 (sixteen) last weekend and turned in a respectable game, she had the misfortune of playing Ronny--who scored an obscene amount of points thanks to a downright unfunny game and 6 (six) TDs from AARP member Brett Favre. That puts Ronny firmly in a tie for first in his division, and it leaves Jen with a perpetual void where her win total should be. Of course, she was a little preoccupied last weekend on account of the whole getting married thing. But the honeymoon's over, Grathwol. Get your head in the game.
Team Marcella (43) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (26) Why oh why couldn't Katie or Jen have played either of these two teams? In what turned out to be the Battle Of Futility, AP's own Zak Bristo managed to lose to a team that doesn't have an owner. If Zak hadn't started two players with bye weeks (Moss and Roy Williams) and one who was out with a bum knee (Parker), he might have had a chance against the ghost team. But, alas, he only mustered a mind-bottling (you heard me) eight points between all his running backs, receivers and tight end. The team that doesn't have an owner is now officially doing better than four teams that do. Perhaps this fantasy football thing isn't really as difficult as we make it out.
Chicago Quails (63) def. Milwaukee Milkmen (54) Just like everyone predicted the Browns/Bengals game to be a high-flying shootout (ha), this match up between first-place teams ended up being a low-scoring affair. Chris and the Quails didn't get the memo about Carson Palmer not playing but Zach and the Milkmen didn't get the memo about Jerramy Stevens and Pierre Thomas sucking. Still, neither of these guys are in any real jeopardy of losing again until they play each other again.
For as self-obsessed as I am, I'm still always completely caught off-guard when I'm confronted with the fact that people actually pay attention to the stuff I write.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe losing that election to be my 7th grade homeroom representative had lingering effects on my self-esteem. But it's pretty astounding to me when anyone gives a shit about what I think. (And I'm pretty sure the people closest to me share the same dumbfounded amazement.)
So I'm just now getting used to the fact that the musicians I write about (actually, to a much more likely extent: their publicists) will reference a quote from me on their websites or in press releases. I'm not special (don't listen to that, mom). I mean, this happens to anyone at AP--and really, to anyone in the media. You know what I'm talking about. All those ads or CD stickers that say things like:
"Exceptionally Tolerable." -- Alternative Press
It's kinda weird when something you write ends up in a place like that. Cause, most likely, you wrote it at 3:43 a.m. in your darkened apartment with a bowl of soggy Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch next to you, just praying that you're gonna make your deadline. Not that you don't mean every word you said. You just don't expect anyone to latch onto it. Especially when it's a band you grew up loving.
That's kinda how I felt late last week when Heisel told me that I needed to instantly check out the Toadies' website.
They totally posted my Listening Station write-up about the band.
So this got me to thinking about other instances where I was quoted or referenced or exploited. And since I have 96 minutes before this blog is officially past my deadline, I'm gonna use that as today's topic.
So, in no order, here's my ultra-narcissistic look back at some of my favorites:
UNKLE - War Stories press release “With UNKLE’s third proper release, the outfit veer in two directions nobody foresaw: Live…and West- to record with stoner-rock icon Chris Goss…This organic indulgence is initially disconcerting, but upon closer inspection, UNKLE’s familiar, cinematic aesthetic reveals itself…” --Tim Karan, ALTERNATIVE PRESS (September 2007)
I completely went nuts for UNKLE when Psyence Fiction came out in 1998. I was working at the now-defunct Music X in my college town and I used to subject my co-workers and innocent customers to repeated listenings for hours on end. When I got a chance to write the review for War Stories, it was kind of trippy to think that a decade earlier, I was just a disheveled record store sales assistant. And now I was a disheveled magazine editor. I was a little bummed when I saw this quote, because I don't think it's super-flattering for UNKLE. I'm can't be sure, but knowing me, I'm pretty sure there was a far more hyperbolic sentence they coulda gone with.
THRICE - MySpace page You probably know by now that Thrice are just about infallible to me. I vote for them collectively as write-ins on every regional voting ballot. So I was out of my mind stoked when they got hold of my early review of The Alchemy Index and not only posted it in full on their MySpace page, but posted a bulletin telling everyone to check it out. For a minute, I thought about turning in my resignation, because there was really nowhere to go from there but down....and down I promptly went. It was my first real taste of message board messiahs disagreeing with me. I was instantly reamed a new orifice on one website in particular that claimed that I obviously hadn't actually listened to the record (although I gave it 4 out of 5 stars), mostly because I made the apparent unforgivable sin of referencing the band Chevelle. In hindsight, I probably could've come up with a different band to compare the album to. But then I never would've had the indescribable pleasure of being lambasted publicly by kids who've never met me.
GLOS - MySpace page Glos is the project of brother-sister duo Keeley Davis (Sparta, Engine Down) and Maura Davis (Denali, Ambulette). I legitimately loved their debut album, so I made it my Listening Station pick. Then it showed up on their MySpace. This one was awesome, not so much because I was glad they liked the write-up, but more because I may or may not daydream about a life where Maura and I live in a cozy little studio apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Portland or someplace like that. And Maura would be like, "Oh, isn't it weird how that one little paragraph led to our beautiful, beautiful life together? Let's watch NFL Gameday." This is all hypothetical, though. Remember I said, "may or may not daydream about..." (But it's true.) (Or is it?) (Probably.) (Or is it?)
(yeah.)
Evanescence - EvThreads message board So, yeah. I don't hate Evanescence. Sue me. We've already established that I like Chevelle. But when I included them in my 10 Essential list on albums I own that I should be ashamed of, that ended up becoming a topic of discussion on a fansite. I'm really glad that most of the participants seemed to get what I was going for, and realized that I was actually...kind of one of them.
I knew that my blog was rising in popularity when the guy at the bagel place recognized me and gave me a free drink. (It was actually because he thought I was someone named Seth, but I'm gonna count it.)
But I never thought my entire life and my very soul would be ripped from me and bastardized by HBO.
Please compare:
Here's what the official website for The Life & Times Of Tim--if that is its real name--says:
Who is Tim?
Tim is a young guy who always tries to do the right thing, but for some reason the world conspires against him. In many episodes, he's trying to better himself, but the harder he tries, the worse things become. Everybody makes mistakes, but for Tim--a self-conscious young guy living in New York--just getting out of bed in the morning could be the worst decision he makes all day.
I'm not sure what's more troubling about this.
The fact that HBO has obviously been secretly monitoring me for months to get my exact look, wardrobe and mannerisms down.
The fact that HBO has stolen everything that ever made me interesting, thus depriving me of mandatory blog fodder.
The fact that I'm apparently a young man going nowhere.
(Joke's on them. If you've been reading my blog, you know I'm not young at all.)
Just watch:
What the hell?
That JUST happened to me.
Now I know how Homer Simpson felt when he stumbled across the Mr. Sparkle Detergent.
This is ALMOST as traumatic as when I discovered that another guy named Tim Karan had stolen the website domain that should rightfully be mine.
Well.
I'm depressed now.
Next you're gonna tell me that somebody stole the working title of my autobiography.
After this past weekend in the AP Fantasy Football League and the results of my highly anticipated bout with music editor Scott Heisel, I took yesterday off to enjoy the ensuing parade.
It got out of hand pretty quick.
(FYI: When you do a Google image search for "parade," you get a staggering amount of porn sites. Just sayin'. It's a gross, gross thing, this inter-net of mankind's.)
So let's get right to it.
Dandy Van Slykes (104) def. San Diego Whale Vaginas (80) I'm not a scientist. I'm just a man. A man who could probably beat Scott Heisel at fantasy football without a computer, contact with the outside world and the capacity for abstract thought. (And I'm gonna write this particular description in that way that Scott hates.) My team was pretty mediocre this week, if you ask me. But Scott's was mediocre-er. He started one guy (Justin Fargas) who didn't play on Sunday and one guy (Derek Anderson) who probably shouldn't have played. So I can beat Scott at fantasy football. Is that really something to be proud of? Make-believe football?
I think so, yes.
Venice Marmots (97) def. Team Exitonefiftytwo (94) Laura and Ben are pretty much the only ones in the league to use the "Smack Board" to its full potential. Except instead of talking trash on each other, they got along famously and instead made fun of me: Ben (Sep 21 10:25 PM): at least the points will cheer Tim up, poor him... being 30. horrible. So I don't think there were any hard feelings from Ben when Laura managed to hold T.O. to 1 point and squeeze out a win. These guys are both contenders and they could each easily beat Scott Heisel with only a kicker and a tight end.
Awesometown Unicorns (97) def. I Hate California (89) This was kind of a heart breaker. Mostly for me. Cameron managed to keep my girlfriend's team at 0-3 with this tight one. I really kinda need Katie to win at least one game so that she won't become completely disinterested. She already barely remembers that she has a team. And when Ronnie Brown scored five (that's 5) touchdowns on Sunday, I'm pretty sure she didn't know he was on her team. All I want is a girlfriend who I can talk passionately about fantasy football with. That's the dream. Is it so unattainable? Apparently Cameron hates love.
Rambunctious Coons (90) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (58) Yee. Not pretty. On paper, our ad exec Zak looked like he had a shot against Ronny--who got 43 zillion points from his once-underachieving running backs like Larry Johnson (who scored more than almost all of Zak's position players combined). I'm trying to figure out a way to automatically deduct points from Ronny for owning Brett Favre when he plays Monday Night Football games. Nothing against Brett the Jet. I just can't stand to hear commentators talk about him. He's just a football player, fellas. He's not this guy.
Milwaukee Milkmen (75) def. Team Marcella (58) I'd just like to point out that the team with an absentee owner (Team Marcella) scored as many points as Zak and the Cleveland Hasselhoffs. But the Zach that was facing Marcella this week (note the different spellings of Zak and Zach), made short work of the ghost team. However, that team would have had a pretty easy time beating one of the next two teams...
Chicago Quails (97) really def. 85 Mafia (16) Our copy editor Jennifer and her 85 Mafia don't need our pity. But we're going to offer it anyway. Sixteen points? It doesn't help that every quarterback she picks up gets demoted due to poor play (Tarvaris Jackson) or being sad (Vince Young). But only two people on her team scored more than 3 points and one was her kicker. In fact, even though Jackson didn't play and got Jen zero points, he still was more productive than her defense (the Patriots) who ended up with negative seven points. Not to detract from the stellar day that Chris and the Quails turned in. If I had to speculate, I'd say he's probably the front runner this season. But to lose this game against Jen, it would've taken somebody far more clueless.
Tune in next blog, when I swear I'll talk about music. At least a little.
Things like: Disorganized, self-sabotaging, modest, devastatingly handsome, ironic, Steve, immature and really awesome at making lists about myself.
But "tidy" has never been one of them.
So when I heard on the news that fall is here, I got to thinking, "Crud. I should probably get to that spring cleaning." (Keep in mind, this is Spring Cleaning '08. I'm not getting a jump on next year. Spring Cleaning '09 is penciled in for sometime around November of 2011.)
I ventured into my hallway closet and felt the sweet agony of 73 CD cases cascading from the top shelf onto my skull. I had a few minutes while I lay stunned on the floor to look at the jewel cases a little closer.
When I came to, I decided to give most of them a shot.
So here's the best of what I somehow let slip by me in the past few months. If I'm a little off in my recommendations, it could be that I might have a mild concussion.
Lower Definition - The Greatest Of All Lost Arts
Ever wonder what Incubus would've sounded like if they'd just said, "You know, this song 'Drive' is radio-friendly and all, but don't you think it's weird that it'll probably be on Now That's What I Call Music! 9? Ferret's Lower Definition might be living out that alternate timeline.
Bloc Party - Intimacy
In 2005, I actually couldn't finish a sentence without uttering the words, "Bloc Party." It's true. It's not funny. It was a problem. I saw three speech therapists for it. Okay, none of that's completely true. (Disregard the sentence where I said, "It's true.") Still, you get the point. I loved Silent Alarm. But I was so underwhelmed and disillusioned with the follow-up A Weekend In The City, that I somehow let the online release of Intimacy sneak right past me. Now that I'm giving it a fair spin, I think I Bloc Party...
...shit...
Ed Laurie - Meanwhile In The Park
Somewhere along the line, my unnecessary teenage angst was replaced with unnecessary post-collegiate melancholy. It's true. (You can believe me when I say "It's true" this time.) I don't think I have the energy to really be angry anymore. Instead, I jump straight to forlorn. This CD, possibly the saddest effing album ever recorded by man, will be perfect for the next time I feel like the world has conspired against me. Which should happen any second now.
Metaform - Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants
All my life (or since 1996), I've been looking for an instrumental hip-hop album that could compare to DJ Shadow's Endtroducing. Apparently I'm not the only one, since every press release I receive now for any DJ of any sort contains the phrase: "For fans of DJ Shadow." After the first 642 instances of this, I kinda stopped believing and somehow this disc made its way from my desk at work to my closet without a play. Little did I know my closet housed so much awesomeness (not even including that N64 Mario Kart cartridge or those tax forms I needed last year).
