Us v. Them, Over and Over Again

So eMusic has just announced a partnership with Sony to host 200,000 albums from Sony's back catalogue (albums released in the last two years are not included). Sounds good, right? Well, there's a catch. As a result, subscribers have been hit with a huge price increase. My effective plan has increased the price per track by 33%, while some customers are seeing increases as high as 75%. Apparently everyone at eMusic thinks this is a great idea, despite the fact that everyone who already subscribes to eMusic thinks it's terrible. I posted a response to CEO Danny Stein's blog post here. If you don't feel like clicking through, here's what I had to say:

I admit I’m not adding anything new to the conversation, but I think it’s important that you know just how many of your current customers are disappointed with this decision. I’ve been a huge fan of your service and it’s one of the first places I go to find new music. Usually, I’ll hear a great track or two from a new band or album on one of my favorite music blogs and head right over to eMusic to see if I can get the whole album. With the emphasis on music discovery, I’ve usually found a couple more albums to fill out my monthly quota in just a few hours. It’s a great way for me to hear new music in an affordable way and to contribute to new artists.

It’s not very often that I download classic albums from this service. I don’t need this service to help me find Nebraska or Highway 61 Revisited, and I’m not happy paying a premium price so that other users have that capability.

I’ve read before that artists using your service see a profit of about 30 cents per track. I don’t have a source to cite and it doesn’t really matter to me if that number is 100% accurate. However, it makes me wonder what kind of deal Sony is getting if you’ve now pushed the basic plan cost to consumers to 50 cents per track. It was my original belief that the eMusic was looking to expand their catalogue on their own terms by having the majors agree to the established pricing structure. Keep in mind that Sony isn’t giving license to the bulk of their popular holdings, only to the long tail.

In my opinion, if Sony thinks it’s special enough that it can demand a higher price for a collection whose average quality isn’t anything special, then they continue to try to market and sell their music through traditional channels. If they concede that eMusic offers a collection of highly enthusiastic music fans who are willing to spend a lot more money on affordable music, then I’d be happy to let them play our game on our terms. It could be a lot of fun. As it stands though, I’m much happier playing without the cool kids that demand all the attention.

By the way, kudos on establishing album pricing. I was hoping for 10-track policy rather than 12, but it’s a much awaited improvement.

Dance With Me?

I suffer from a devastating ailment in that I love to dance but am both afraid to do it and quite bad at it, even for a white boy. For this reason, I tend to try to stick to more traditional partners dancing rather than trying to bust a move. After going quite a while without dancing with anyone particularly memorable, I've had three pretty good experiences in the last month or so.

About a month ago, I danced with my girlfriend (Katie P.) for the first time. My roommates weren't home and I put on a cover of one of my favorite Christmas songs ("Baby, It's Cold Outside") by one of my favorite bands (Built for the Sea). I took her by the hand and we danced around the living room. Those are the moments you just can't help being proud of for orchestrating perfectly.

Then, a couple of weeks later, I went with Tony (Toners) and Ninny (Otter) to a Christmas party thrown by Tony's family's friends. This was a pretty typical grown-up affair, done Southside-style (i.e., lots of booze). By the end of the night I had danced with Tony's mom to "Hey Ya" and with Ninny to "That's Amore" (and something similar that I can't currently recall), which was a little bit anachronistic, to say the least. Dancing with Ninny was probably the most fun I've had dancing with anyone since high school. It probably helped that we were both drunk, but it was also completely pressureless because we're close platonic friends. With other girls, I'm always worried about what boundaries are where and whether or not I'm crossing them. Dancing (at least when you're not doing it with your mother) tends to be a necessarily intimate affair and things like how close you hold each other, where your hands are, where your faces are, how you're singing, etc. are all elements of body language that are to interpret perfectly.

That last point is the cause of most of my inhibition toward dancing. First off, it's nearly impossible to ask a girl to dance without them thinking you're hitting on them. If they want that, then you're in the clear; but more often than not, they go in to a defensive mode. This is especially true if they're with their girlfriends. (This is, of course, why men need wingmen to be effective.) This was the overanalysis that paralyzed me on New Year's Eve, when I went out to The Lodge in Lisle with Joe, Katie C., and her friend Becky. I agreed to go out with the three of them to keep Becky from being a third wheel and because my alternate plans were less than spectacular. After getting our drink on for a little while, I was really itching to get out on the floor. The exact sequence of events remains hazy, but I eventually ditched the group to go get lei'd by the lead singer of Covergürl (pictured; I'm in the tie. Apologies for violating Article XV). While up by the stage, I danced and sang the night away and had a great time, but it could have been even better if I had danced with people I knew.

When we got back to Katie C.'s house, Joe was tending to Katie because she had one too many ("It was just the last drink!"). Meanwhile, I was hanging out with Becky. I put on some music on the computer and we talked about random stuff for a while. Then I decided to put on Dino's "Sway" and took her hand and we danced around the room for half a song. I have absolutely no idea if she was enjoying it or if she just thought I was a weirdo. We got cut short when Katie's mom yelled down the stairs to wish everyone a happy new year and Becky and I were the only ones to respond. We turned off the music and Becky explained that Katie wasn't feeling too well. After that, we all settled on to the couch for Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and the dancing days were over.

So ladies, what do you think about platonic dancing?

Michael McDermott - Dance With Me (Coming Soon!)

Dean Martin - Sway (Coming Soon!)

The Comeback Kid

It's been a while. If anyone ever reads this that doesn't know me, they may wonder what happened in the last half-year of my life. I won't bother summarizing either the significant or the mundane. There were ups and downs. I simply lived.

I'm not quite sure what's drawing me back to this right now. The new year is a convenient excuse, but I don't think it has much to do with that. Particularly, I'm inspired by Sterling Hayden's Wanderer, which I recently began to read. I'm impressed with his ability to recall (or at least re-imagine) the internal dialogue that defines and reflects our true self. Sometimes, you just know that the thoughts you are having at the moment are significant and formative and most of these thoughts remain unspoken. Tonight, I feel like my thoughts are worth recording for at least my own sake. If ever these words are of any benefit or entertainment to a reader, that's all the better.

In Chapter 14 of Wanderer, Hayden writes, "There was something mysterious about certain things...What bothered you most is that you had no way of knowing if these things bothered your friends too." This is something I think about a lot. I'm troubled by the apparent taboo we have at sharing these sorts of personal feelings. I think I probably succumb to the taboo a bit more thoroughly than others, but I believe it's present in everyone's lives. I find it quite difficult to overcome and my maladroitness in this area has almost certainly fucked up my relationships with other people. As I reflected on this, I approached a somewhat disjointed idea: I miss Meghan. (For those following along chronologically, that's Aitch/H. I'm going with real first names from now on, unless someone I write about actually reads this and objects. In this case in particular, though, I'll probably stick with "H" from here on out.)

There are few people that I consider close friends, fewer that I've actually opened up to, and even fewer that seem to actually "get" me. H is certainly a member of that small subset. Unfortunately, we haven't spoken in quite a long time. Since she's off in Denver now, there are never any casual meetings. In addition, I kind of suck at having real conversations on the phone (I think that's mostly a Y-chromosome thing). Even if I learned to do that, I'm not sure how healthy it is to regularly be calling someone I used to still have a crush on. I don't know what it is I'm hoping for. The reality is that it's not very likely that we'll ever again live within 100 miles of each other and a sustained close friendship just isn't likely to flourish in those conditions. I find myself fantasizing about how things could have been different and then reflecting on regretful decisions. I wish that instead of drinking myself fat and lazy, I had instead gone to the gym or the library a few times. It's hard to say where the line of balance was, but it's pretty clear that I was well over it. The time I spent with H is probably the only consistently unblemished aspect of my college career. We worked together, bitched about work together, flirted with each other, got drunk and silly and philosophical together, got sober and silly and philosophical together, and were just happy when together. I don't know if there's a person that I would feel more comfortable talking to about anything at all. For whatever reason, just sharing my thoughts with her made me feel good.

I'm not quite done with all I've got to say, so I'll be back. As for now though, I have to be up in just over four hours for work, so I guess it's a good time to stop.

Also, I'm changing both the title and URL for this blog. I'm not sure to what yet, but I'm definitely changing it.

Slutocracy

I was trying to type the word "slut" into my phone today, but the T9 thought I meant "plutocracy". My phone thinks I'm far more refined than I am.

Don't Buy Iraqi Dinars

I had another event-filled weekend. This one started Saturday morning with the first sailing race of the season. We finished second of the six boats in our section and fourth of the thirteen in our fleet. Also, I didn't do anything stupid, so it was a good race. I think I might be better at this than I previously assumed, as I was commended for good sail trim and communication while a couple other guys who have been doing this for a couple years were making foolish mistakes. I've still got a lot to learn though.

After the race I headed over to Palermo's for Twinkie's graduation party. The open bar provided some much needed social lubricant and things turned out to be pretty fun. Twinkie announced she'll be working as the vault coordinator for Harry Winston's Chicago location, a job she was pretty much born to do. It turns out that it's still sometimes awkward to be friends with both Toners and Twinkie. Since that group hasn't really kept in touch with Toners, they were asking about what he was up to. I told them about his plan to move in with Otter and talked a little bit about her as well. She was somewhat dismissed with the requisite "yellow fever" jokes and things moved on. It was surprising to hear. It happened in almost the exact same way Carroll guys dismiss Twinkie, but it still somewhat shocked me and suddenly I was playing defense. The whole thing is made even more poignant by the fact that I was defending Twinkie to Otter only a week before. In the end, it was nice to see everyone, but it also became apparent that these people that I used to be good friends with have become merely acquaintances.

Sunday morning I drove down to Toners' lake house in Bloomington. I suppose a consequence of our man-dating is that I now have man-in-laws (That term doesn't work like I want it to, buy you get the idea.). It was a very relaxing weekend filled with boat rides, Cuba libres, cigars, music, and tons of delicious food. While sitting on the dock with P-dawg, he nicely expressed his appreciation for having me as a part of the family. I graciously agreed and said I felt as comfortable there as I did at home, but then he said he hoped it was even more so. I keep getting the feeling that he has very little respect for my parents and that he's supportive because he thinks I get no support at home. I don't like the way he plays this game and I find him to be inappropriately presumptuous. Sometimes I think he's far too used to be right and just assumes he's right all the time. I know all parents (and all people) have some flaws. My parents are humble enough to admit that of themselves; I don't know if P-dawg is.

This whole mess gets way more fun across generations. Toners does the same thing his dad does in some cases: spout bullshit. I don't really mind it when Toners does it and I often call him out on it. He's not nearly as much of a lawyer as his dad is, but something has definitely rubbed off. Far more interesting is the relationship between Grandpa Bob (Toners' mom's father; P-dawg's father-in-law) and P-dawg. From what I gathered in listening to Bob for thirty minutes, he's an arrogant asshole in love with his money. I admit I might be wrong, but that's at least the personality he wears on his sleeve. Funny enough, P-dawg doesn't buy the bullshit that Bob spouts anymore than I buy Toners'. After Bob and P-dawg volley back and forth with underhanded insults, P-dawg starts to tell his story of being an Iraqi millionaire. As he explains, he bought several million Iraqi dinars for about $5000 US with the presumption that when the US installs a stable government, the exchange value of the dinar will shoot up and be worth far more than $5000 US. At worst, he's out $5000. Any degree of research on the internet will reveal that the dinar is not an internationally regulated and traded currency and as such does not have a dynamic value. The value is currently set at 1197 dinar per US dollar and this is unlikely to change anytime soon. The only way to get the currency is through black market exchange as international banks will not trade unregulated currency. Typical black market rates charge up to a 30% mark up, so it's possible that his $5000 US instantly turned into $3500 the day he bought the currency. It is unlikely that the currency will significantly deflate anytime soon. Even with an established government, Iraq's economy will stay be based on oil. They have no significant industrial development that would allow them to export anything else. Thus, their international economy will go through very little change even with a massive regime overhaul. If a legitimate regulated economy is installed in Iraq, it is much more likely that the currency will undergo dollarization and P-dawg will have to buy back his American money at a loss.

Wiggleston and Jenny McCarthy

Friday and Saturday were full of extremes for me. Everywhere I went, I felt like family and I felt like a stranger. I felt supported and condemned. Excited and depressed. Among friends and alone.

I spent Friday prepping the house for the next day. I mowed the lawn, cleaned up the house, and unloaded the rented tables and chairs while Toners and co. were at his recognition ceremony. Upon their return, we all prepped egg casserole for the next morning. It was a simple task, but it occurred to me that it seemed like something my family is incapable of. We seldom seem able to work together without somebody/everybody getting pissed off. I wish that weren't the case. Teamwork prevailed again the next morning for the final clean up and set up. Again, I was amazed.

We went out to dinner Friday evening with everybody and their families. I've always found it very fun to see the families that people come from. I was particularly interested to meet Otter's family, but I ended up not talking to them very much, or any other "adults" for that matter. (On that note, I have no idea when I'll begin to think of myself as an adult. Probably not until I'm at least 30.) I was assumed to be Toners' brother by two other people. This was a fair assumption since I was there with Toners' family and Toners and I have very similar mannerisms. Still, it annoyed me on a couple of accounts. It made me feel like an ancillary character in the whole event, which was harsh considering that I knew how things could have been that weekend had I not fucked everything up for the past two years. The second problem I had with this mistaken identity was that last semester I had given my student ID to my brother to get him into a football game while I had taken Toners. The usher immediately knew the face on the card wasn't me. I don't get it.

That night, I went out to Finnie's with Yardbird, his brother, and Carita. To be honest, I didn't have much fun. There were surprisingly few people there that I knew and I guess I just wasn't in the mood. We went to Nick's Patio later and met up with Katherine and Bethany (fellow chemical engineers). I was glad to see them one last time. We aren't more than casual friends, but they are among few of my classmates that I don't feel judged by.

The next day was the big brunch. We had a bunch of friends, families, food, booze, and a clown named Wiggleston. The whole thing was rather ridiculous, in a very good way. We got our faces painted, Tay-tay got drunk and flirted with the clown , and everybody seemed to have a good time. At some point, Toners and I were talking to Yardbird's brother who expressed that his family and all sympathized when they heard I had left school and were all very happy to hear I'd be returning. To that, Tony responded that his dad (P-dawg) had told him that he "better not pull that shit." This was somewhat harsh to hear, especially considering how P-dawg had made a point of being supportive and extending a hand if I needed it. It makes me wonder what everyone really thinks of me. In the end, I don't know why I even care.

I gave Toners an autographed copy of Jenny McCarthy's Surfin' Safari for his graduation. Jenny happened to be a TA in his preschool class. I even had a little speech about her being the alpha and omega of his Catholic education. I'm pretty proud of myself for that find.

Later that evening I went to Aitch's apartment for the BP family party. Seeing the girls with their parents pretty much made my night. A particular highlight was watching Aitch and her dad walk by with the same gait and Aitch struggling to keep up with the longer-limbed man as she yelled directions to the airport. Seeing the resemblance between Bruges and her mother was also very entertaining. Not only do they look alike and sound alike, but they move their hands in the same ways when they speak, laugh at themselves in the same way, and even complain in the same way. As much fun as it was, it was also the most awkward part of the weekend. Dads talked to dads and moms talked to moms about their daughters' pasts and futures and I didn't really fit in to any of it. I was particularly uncomfortable talking to Colleen's parents. Everything started out fine, but as we talked they realized I was the "O'Malley" their daughter had talked about. Suddenly I was being told that I had been having too much fun at school and that I really had to focus when I went back. I've had people supportively tell me to keep my head on straight and stay focused, but this seemed like an all out condemnation. They were being awfully audacious and it really put me off. Once again, I don't know why I care. On a more amusing related note, just about everyone there knew me as O'Malley. I would introduce myself to parents by my first name and make small talk for a few minutes before they realized I was O'Malley and then suddenly I'd find out that they'd heard all about me. It was very strange. Finally I said my goodbyes and left. My last hugs to Aitch and Bruges were some of the hardest I've made.

Reggae Capital, USA

My extended weekend went pretty much as I expected it to. Radiohead was fantastic and completely worth the hassle of getting up before dawn to drive the three hundred miles back to Chicago. The subsequent Wrigley experience was among the most ridiculous things I've been involved in. It was hardly necessary that there was a baseball game being played; give us some bleachers and a beer vendor and we'll have a good time anywhere. After the game, we all went to the Wild Hare and Singing Armadillo Frog Sanctuary. I ran up an $80 tab (on top of the $75 I spent at Wrigley) buying the whole group (and the men's room attendant) drinks. When I'm drunk, I apparently believe that m income is ten times what it actually is. Deuces made $20 dancing with a couple of sexagenarians, though unfortunately he didn't break out the famed "pick up change" move. I spent over an hour in the men's room chatting it up with the aforementioned attendant. Recently, I've noticed myself turning into my dad. I could never figure out how he could meet some random guy and know his whole life story in a matter of half an hour, yet on a couple of occasions, I've done the exact same thing. After we'd had enough fun, we headed back to the south side to get our cars and drive to South Bend, where upon arrival I ignored my phone and promptly fell asleep.