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Kacey (see Part II of the Diary) kindly gave me copies of her photos, since I forgot my camera in the hotel every day of the trip (see the foreword to Part I of the Diary).  She's given me permission to post a few, so here's some of the "highlights."  These are all taken in the last bar of Friday night.  I'll post a few of the stadium game-day photos with Part III of the Diary.

Dave and Me (note the proud display of my Bud Light, which, unforutnately, has the Texas wrapping on it)

Kacey and Me, leading an "O-H" cheer

Me, Dave, and Kacey (note that Dave is drinking a Miller Lite)

Me, "The Coolest Brother of Any of My Friends," and "The Sister of the Coolest Brother of Any of My Friends" (evidence of the evening's rain, which our cab driver claimed kept the Texas women away, can be seen on the shirt of the guy behind me)

Posted by Renaldo at 06:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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At long last, Part II of the diary.  This covers Day 1 in Austin (Friday).

Friday, September 8th

• 12:40 p.m.: Finally, we've arrived in Austin.  We check into our hotel, which had some generic name that we could never remember (and which I still don't remember, so I'm making it a point not to look up the name).  Everyone checking in is wearing a Buckeye jersey (except for me ... I'm wearing a gray Ohio State shirt that has Brutus Buckeye on it).  While I'm waiting to check in, I scan the front page of UT's student newspaper (there's a few copies on the desk).  One of the headlines says that Austin is preparing for an OSU "invasion."  According to the article, 40,000 OSU fans are expected in Austin this weekend.
• 1:11 p.m.: While we're relaxing for a few moments before heading out, Dave turns on Tyra Banks's daytime talk show.  Tyra has this woman and her ex-husband on, and apparently the ex-husband ended up leaving because of his addiction to strip clubs.  Tyra is appalled, and so she decides to go "undercover" as a stripper to see why men like strip clubs.  She's really into it too--she's getting a Hollywood makeup artist to put a fake nose on her so no one will recognize her.  Being the true red-blooded Americans that we are, Dave and I realize that football is more important than Tyra Banks going undercover as a stripper, so we turn off the TV, call a cab, and head down to Sixth Street.  (Did I just write that sentence?)
• 1:44 p.m.: First beer of the day at Iron Cactus on Sixth Street.  Even after seeing all the Buckeye fans in San Antonio, it's still unbelievable how many OSU supporters are in Austin. There's literally a stream of people wearing scarlet and gray walking along Sixth Street, not to mention the fact that about 75% of the people in Iron Cactus are wearing Buckeye gear.
• 1:53 p.m.: A guy walks down Sixth Street with a Ted Ginn jersey.  That's cool.  The problem is, he's got his Ted Ginn jersey tucked in to his shorts.  Please, people, stop tucking in jerseys!  It doesn't look right, unless you're on the team and you're on the field.
• 2:04 p.m.: OSU fans seem to keep pouring on to Sixth Street.  There's no way Ohio State doesn't travel the best of all the Division I college football teams.  Austin is Columbus South right now.
• 2:08 p.m.: I had purposely gotten a Budweiser because the Bud Light bottles had the plastic wrapping around them with UT logos all over them.  After drinking out of the same bottle of Bud for 24 minutes, I realize that an outline of the State of Texas is emblazoned over the Budweiser seal.  This becomes a running theme for the rest of the day: I can't escape Texas intrusions on beer labels.
• 2:40 p.m.: Two sweet old ladies walk in with matching t-shirts.  On the front, the shirts say "Beat Texas."  On the back, they say, "And send Bevo back to the barn."
• 3:14 p.m.: Dave and I venture westward on Sixth Street and walk in to Shakespeare's.  It's literally packed with OSU fans.  Like, their main room is filled with Buckeye fans, and every seat in the other room and the outdoor patio are occupied by scarlet-clad visitors.  After a few minutes "Hang On Sloopy" and the OSU fight songs are played ont he stereo.  People are getting fired up.
• 4:03 p.m.: Word is (that's my tribute to Roger Brown), this restaurant/bar called Stubbs is supposed to be Buckeye headquarters today and tomorrow.  We venture a few blocks and find out that the Word is right--Stubbs is also packed with Buckeye fans.  We take a seat at the bar and survey the scene.  There's a dude dressed up as Woody Hayes (he really could be Woody's twin) and a few hundred other Buckeyes in the building.
• 4:30 p.m.: We discover that there's a back porch and a big open backyard at Stubbs.  It looks like a scene out of an old Western, complete with wooden saloon-looking buildings and hitching posts.  Instead of cowboys, though, all the extras in this movie are dressed as Buckeye fans.
• 4:49 p.m.: The Outback Steakhouse blimp is in sight.  It's not the Goodyear blimp, but it'll do.
• 4:57 p.m.: The TV crews are starting to arrive.  Needless to say, this is firing up the crowd even more.
• 5:01 p.m.: Our friend (and recent graduate from OSU) Ivan arrives.  He's working in Austin, and he tells us that he's just scored unbelievable seats for the game from work.  Ivan's going to be sitting in a luxury box on the 50-yard line, with free food and drinks.  The catch (there's always a catch, isn't there): since he's sitting with Texas fans and alums, he can't wear any Buckeye gear, and he has to keep cheering for OSU to an extreme minimum.  It's still worth it, though.
• 6:18 p.m.: The crowd continues to grow at Stubbs.  There's easily 1,000 people here, and there's a line out on to the street.
• 6:20 p.m.: I admit, I've been a little tired.  We were out late last night, and we really haven't had much time to catch our breath.  Dave and I are troopers, though, and we've been plowing through the minor exhaustion.  Things are starting to turn, though, and Dave and I agree that we're beginning to hit our stride.
• 7:40 p.m.: Along with a few other OSU fans we met at Stubbs, Dave and I head back over to Iron Cactus.  There's more OSU people there now, to the point that it's taking ten minutes or so just to grab a beer at the bar.  We're digging it, though.
• 7:53 p.m.: I see the first Texas jersey of the trip.  Maybe they don't like wearing jersey so much in Texas, but I still find it hard to believe that people aren't wearing their Longhorn gear.  Maybe they're scared.
• 8:20 p.m.: I see the first Michigan jersey of the trip.  Dave had insisted that we were guaranteed to see some schmuck wearing a Michigan jersey sooner rather than later in Texas.  I doubted him, but Dave was right.
• 8:27 p.m.: We walk across Sixth Street to the Blind Pig Pub, a bar that has a patio on the roof.  We grab a beer at the bar and hang out for a while, checking out the crowd and listening to the dude playing guitar.  Feeling the Buckeye fever growing within me, I decide now is the time to take the OSU dominance over Sixth Street to the next level.  I walk up to the guitarist between songs and ask, "So, are you going to play 'Hang on Sloopy'?"  He looks at me, and says into the microphone, "It depends how much you want to hear it."  He didn't even have to say it, though, because I was already getting my wallet out and pulling out a $20 bill.  He plays what can best be described as an "interpretation" of the song (in the wrong key and with the verses cut out and replaced by some gibberish in Spanish--he's probably saying the equivalent of "The Buckeyes are going to get their asses handed to them"), but the OSU people immediately start the "O-H-I-O" response to the chorus and storm the open area of the bar to dance.  The guitarist finishes the song and says, "Enjoy it now because you're gonna lose tomorrow."
• 8:46 p.m.: As we walk upstairs to the roof patio, I ask one of the OSU fans we're hanging out with, "Where are we at?"  His response?  "Austin, Ohio."
• 9:03 p.m.: The Miller Light girls show up.  They go up to my companions and start asking them questions, dutifully taking down their responses on their electronic notepads, and then handing them free bottles of Miller Light.  I've been drinking Miller Light since we first got to Stubbs, but for some reason I ended up with a can of Bud Light from the last round.  The Miller Light girls are all very, very, very hot:  they're all blonde, with rolled-up white shirts on and those hot librarian glasses.  For some reason, I feel that a great injustice has been done, in that these gorgeous ladies are pushing a beer that I'm not presently drinking, and I'm in a mixing kind of mood.  I walk up to one of the Girls and say, "Ok, what is your deal?"  She looks at me puzzlingly and asks, "What do you mean what is my deal?"  I say, "What's your deal?"  She asks me what I mean again.  I tell her that I don't understand why they're doing what they're doing.  She tells me that they're trying to get people to drink Miller Light.  I say no kidding, but I'm a Bud Light man.  She then goes on and on about how Miller Light is less watered down, Miller Light has fewer calories, and on and on.  I tell her I want more water in my beer, and that I'm not counting calories (or carbs).  Besides, I tell her I stopped drinking Miller Light because there's a Texas logo on the bottle, and even though there's a Texas logo on the Bud Light can, it's smaller.  We go back and forth, with her delivering what normally would be persuasive arguments for drinking Miller Light, but given my current state and my purposely ridiculous steadfastness, I end up contradicting myself left and right in attempt to shoot down everything she throws at me.  This goes on for about 15 minutes, and about halfway through a second Miller Light girl joins in.  Eventually, they wisely realize that I'm not even paying any attention to anything they're saying, and they leave.  As she walks away, the first girl yells back at me, "Have a good night with your watered down beer!"
• 9:30 p.m.: We decide to leave the Blind Pig and find another bar.  As we walk out to Sixth Street, the entire street is like a mob of scarlet.
• 9:34 p.m.: We see a line of about 30 scarlet-clad people waiting to get in to a bar across the street.  Guess where we're headed.
• 9:48 p.m.: Finally inside the bar across the street (at this point, names are getting hazy), we're enjoying rounds of beers and shots.  My friend Kacey texts me to ask where we're at.  I text back to tell her, and she responds with, "Are you a member of the Real World cast?"
• 10:02 p.m.: Kacey and her brother show up.  After only a few minutes, I give Kacey's brother the title of, "Coolest Brother of Any of My Friends."  I don't really know why, but it probably has something to do with him going to school in Austin to learn how to design video games.  Maybe I'm making that up.
• 11:04 p.m.: We decide it's time to leave the Real World bar.  Dave and I haven't eaten since lunch, so we get in line to grab some slices of pizza.  I tell Dave to get me two slices of cheese, then I jump out of line to tell Kacey how cool her brother is.  A few minutes later, Dave hands me one slice of cheese.  I ask where the other slice is, and Dave asks the lady at the counter.  She says Dave gave it to some random dude.  After a few minutes of back and forth, Dave works out a deal where we'll get another slice of cheese if Dave runs into the middle of Sixth Street, dressed in his Ted Ginn jersey, and yells out, "Hook 'em Horns!"  If you know Dave, you know he'll do almost anything for late-night food.  It's a matter of moments before the second slice of cheese is in my hands.
• 11:55 p.m.:  While we're waiting for a cab, a Texas fan begins to heckle me.  Basically, he keeps saying over and over that OSU's run defense is horrible and will cost us the game (I'm making his argument a bit more cogently than he did, because he was incredibly wasted, and, really, I think he was just trying to impress his girlfriend).  I tell him that sure, we gave up a ridiculous amount of rushing yards to Northern Illinois, but Garrett Wolfe is the nation's leading returning rusher, so you can't really put so much stock in that stat.  Besides, I ask him, is North Texas even in Division I?  (For the record, Wolfe is currently averaging 207 rushing yards per game--36 more than the 171 he got against Ohio State--and, yes, North Texas is in the Division I Sunbelt Conference.)  My Longhorn friend refuses to hear my arguments.  He retorts back with, "But your defense got run over last week."  He walks away telling me to "have fun waiting for a cab in the rain."

Saturday, September 9th

• 12:02 a.m.: During our cab ride home, Dave complains to the driver that we hardly saw any of the highly-touted beautiful Texas ladies out and about on Sixth Street.  The cab driver responds with wisdom only a cab driver can give:  "That's because it rained.  They don't like to come out in the rain."
• 12:05 a.m.: Back at the hotel, Dave puts on ESPN and I fall asleep.  We've got a big day ahead of us, so it's best to crash now.

COMING SOON: THE BIG FINALE: GAMETIME IN TEXAS

Posted by Renaldo at 07:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

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When I read a few months ago that Sonic Youth would be making a guest appearance on Gilmore Girls, I was impressed.  Not impressed with Sonic Youth, but impressed that Gilmore Girls would have Sonic Youth on the show.  I immediately e-mailed my sister to say, "I can now officially never make fun of you again for watching Gilmore Girls," because anything Sonic Youth does is intrinsically cool, and their appearance on the show at least makes it immune to me making fun of it.

Flash forward to last week, when my friend Shannon, who had been keeping an eye out for when the episode was going to re-air, let me know that it would be on Tuesday.  I DVR'ed it and watched it last night.  Needless, to say, I was quickly reminded why I don't watch Gilmore Girls.

Really, my main complaint is that they talk too fast--the dialogue is so rapid, that I can't keep up with it.  Who talks like that?  And every retort back and forth is so smarmily witty.  I dunno, I just can't keep up with it.

And the guest appearances (Yo La Tengo was on as well, to boot), were really nothing to write home about.  Yo La Tengo was on for about 10-15 seconds, and Sonic Youth had about 20-25 seconds.  They both appeared as part of a secondary story-line about some coffee shop owner guy being upset about an invasion of "East Coast Troubadours" that really made no sense within the other plotlines.  The bands were cast as "troubadours" who were playing on various streetcorners.

Sonic Youth's appearance, though, was at least somewhat interesting.  Thurston Moore was on guitar, with Kim Gordon on vocals and their daughter on bass for a verse of "What A Waste" from their new album.  It was kind of cool seeing Thurston and Kim's daughter sitting in on bass.  I think she's in her early teens, and she's already taller than Kim.  A lot of people waste time by asking stuff like, "How awesome will Andre Agassi and Steffi Graff's children be at tennis?"  I waste time by asking stuff like, "How cool will Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon's daughter be?"  Really, if there is a coolness gene, she has it.

Anyway, I just really felt robbed that I only got 45 seconds or so of rock in exchange for the 40 minutes of drama that I wasn't interested in.  I can't make fun of my sister for watching Gilmore Girls, but that doesn't mean I will ever watch it again (sorry Melissa and Shannon).

Posted by Renaldo at 03:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

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I finally got with the times today and got a cell phone that lets me download snippets of real songs as ring tones.  So what's the first song I get?  Simple--the first song off Pavement's best album (Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain: one of my top five albums of all time).

By the way, I'm totally digging the fact that Matador Records announced today that the delux reissue of Pavement's Wowee Zowee, due out on November 7, will include the standard smattering of previously unreleased outtakes, as well as the first CD release (that I know of) of the classic Pacific Trip EP, track, "I Love Perth."  The reissue's also going to include the version of "No More Kings" that I spoke so highly of a few days ago.

Posted by Renaldo at 09:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

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Ok, I promised it, so here it is:  My Bill Simmons-esque diary of my trip to Texas last weekend to witness the Ohio State-University of Texas football game.  My friend Dave and I ventured down to the Lone Star State to see our #1 ranked Buckeyes take on the #2 ranked National Champion Longhorns.  No, we didn't run into Lance Armstrong or Matthew McConaughey, but we did have some adventures.  I'll post Part I today and Parts II and III in the next few days.  Oh yeah, and don't expect any pictures.  Every day, about ten minutes after leaving the hotel, I would say something to the effect of "Geez, I forgot my camera again."  Anyway, without further adieu, here's the diary:

Thursday, September 7th

• 9:40 a.m.: I run into my friend Tom, a UT alum.  We had originally planned on having a whole contingent ride down to the game from Columbus on an RV, but Tom was the point guy, and he had to go to Egypt for a while, so that plan kinda fell apart.  Tom's not able to make it to Texas, so he tells me to have a good trip.  "I'd give you some good places to go in Austin," Tom says, "But you'll figure it out."
• 10:31 a.m.: I meet up with Dave.  He says our friend Pete, who was supposed to give us a ride for the airport, is a no-show.  I don't really mind, but I tell Dave that Pete will get called out in the diary.
• 10:38 a.m.: Since we decided that we have to wear Buckeye gear every day we're in Texas, Dave needs to make a last-minute stop at the OSU Bookstore to grab one more shirt.  As we make our way from campus to the Bookstore, we run into a couple of friends.  We're like Wayne and Garth walking backstage at the Alice Cooper concert: Every time we see someone we know, we tell them right away that we're about to head down to Texas for the game.  Sure, we're annoying, but we don't care--we're going to Austin.
• 10:49 a.m.: Finally, we head out of the Gateway Garage and leave the campus area.  It ends up being o.k. that Pete didn't make it--we figure it'll be better to drive ourselves, and we don't mind shelling out the $5 a day to park.
• 11:21 a.m.: After parking (in Red Lot row 23 no less--I figure it's a good sign for OSU that we parked in LeBron James's row), catching the shuttle, checking in, and making our way through security (I stupidly put my boarding pass in the plastic container with my keys and change, so they have to reverse the conveyor belt just for me), we're hungry.  We stop at Damon's Gateway Express just past the security checkpoint, but all they have are hot dogs.  Dave gets two and I get one.  They're not that good.  And the woman gave me diet Coke instead of regular.  "If this is the worst thing that happens all weekend, I'll be happy," I say.
• 11:39 a.m.: We board the 737 for Houston.  I note that we're in the Official Peter Swire Row of the plane: the emergency exit row in the middle (he likes the extra leg room you get because there's a seat missing by the emergency exit).  The guy next to me (Dave's on one side of the aisle, and I'm on the other) says he paid $325 for his ticket.  He got a good deal (although Dave and I truly got a good deal--$90 a piece for student tickets).
• 11:43 a.m.: The pilot, who's obviously from Texas (I wish accents weren't slowly fading away in the U.S.), gives us the weather for Houston.  He goes on to tell us, "For those of you heading to the big game in Austin tomorrow, you're going to have beautiful weather."  The guys in front of me can't believe that the pilot doesn't realize that we're still two days away from the game, so they spend about five minutes ripping on him.
• 11:49 a.m.: A member of the ground crew appears in the front of the plane, grabs the intercom microphone, and says, "It's ironic that a plane full of Buckeye fans is being flown by a Texan.  I just have one thing to say: O-H!"  The plane, which really is full of Buckeye fans, erupts with "I-O!"  By the way, the ground crew guy has his camcorder and is videotaping the scene.
• 1:39 p.m.: We arrive in Houston.  There's about half an hour until we're supposed to board our connecting flight to San Antonio (where we're spending Thursday night), so we head to the bar.  The only one we see near our gate is Bubba's Bar & Grill (really, is it run by some guy named Bubba?).  We go in.  Dave orders a Foster's and I get a Dos Equis.  The bartender says, "That will be $7.50 a piece."  Later, we realize there was a bar called Time Out serving beer right next to our gate.  Either way, we probably would've ended up paying the same price, though.
• 2:50 p.m.: We're a few minutes into our flight to San Antonio.  I begin the inflight magazine crossword puzzle.  I tell Dave that Peter Swire is anti-inflight magazines.
• 3:04 p.m.: I give up on the crossword.  I only do crosswords if I'm getting paid.
• 3:30 p.m.: We're in the middle of our descent, moments away from San Antonio.  Dave can't finish his beer because of the turbulence.  I rip on him relentlessly.
• 3:31 p.m.: Dave sucks it up and finishes the beer.
• 3:35 p.m.: We've touched down in San Antonio.  A guy in the row behind us turns on his cell phone and plays the OSU fight song.  It's going to be a good weekend.
• 3:45 p.m.: Dave tells me he's bringing his #7 OSU jersey to the Bier Stube next week.  Don't ask.
• 5:00 p.m.: We check into the Microtel in San Antonio.  I try to get in our hotel room by pushing the key card into the slot on the door.  It's not working.  Dave takes his key card and inserts it downward into the door, and it opens.  I swear, I've only had two beers so far.
• 5:08 p.m.: We've dropped our bags off in the hotel room, and now we're off to the world-famous San Antonio Riverwalk.  I've heard mixed reviews, but we're only here for one night, so why not check it out?
• 5:15 p.m.: A Schlitz Malt Liquor truck passes us.  I thought this was important for you to know.
• 6:06 p.m.: We complete our first "lap" around the main area of the Riverwalk.  A tour boat floats by, and we get our first "O-H!" in Texas from a couple in the boat wearing OSU shirts.  Dave and I respond accordingly with "I-O!"  We decide it's time to eat.
• 6:09 p.m.: We get an outdoor table at Casa Rio and soak in the Riverwalk scene.  Really, the whole area is great.  Sure, it's touristy, but this is a good kind of touristy.  I don't know if the river's always been there, or if it's manmade, but whoever came up with the idea to fill the area around it with restaurants and bars was pretty smart.  Right in the middle of downtown San Antonio, you can take any number of sets of stairs from street level down to the river, which winds around for I would imagine about a third of a mile or so.  There's restaurants of every kind--everything from Johnny Rockets to nice steak places to Tex-Mex joints.  Casa Rio, obviously, is a Tex-Mex place.  It's good.
• 6:55 p.m.: Old people walk by dressed in OSU attire and say, "Go Bucks!"  Dave responds with "O-H!"  The old people are silent.  They probably don't have the reaction time to respond with a timely "I-O!", but their hearts are in the right place.
• 6:59 p.m.: More old people wearing OSU stuff walk by.  It seems like Riverwalk is filled with old people, with a few middle-aged people sprinkled in.  Nevertheless, Dave and I are honestly surprised at how many OSU fans are out tonight.  Sure, it's a big game for OSU in Austin this weekend, but we're in San Antonio (about 80 miles from Austin), and it's Thursday.  At least every five minutes, a group of OSU fans walks by.  It's really cool.
• 7:25 p.m.: We head in to Mad Dog's British Pub on the Riverwalk.  They charge us $12 bucks for a Harp and a Boddington's.  I feel stupid for getting suckered in by the super-short plaid skirts the girls working here are wearing.
• 8:04 p.m.: We've left Mad Dog's and have begun asking how much drinks are before we go into a bar.  Dave walks up to a waitress standing outside of one bar on break.  He asks her where the good places to go are.  She says "here" and proceeds to tell us they're having happy hour all night.  Dave asks what happy hour entails.  She says half-priced appetizers.  We keep on walking.
• 8:13 p.m.: For the second time, we walk past this goofy old dude with sunglasses and hunting gear on and a full beard.  The first time, he yelled out, "OHIO!"  We said hi, and he told us, "Come in here!  It's happy hour!  You need to be haaaaappppppyyyyyy!  After all, you won't be happy after the game!"  We kept walking before, and we keep walking by again this time, even after he yells out "OHIO!" again.
• 8:15 p.m.: We settle for Tex's Sports Bar.  Really, Tex's Sports Bar in San Antonio, Texas.  I nominate Tex's Sports Bar for most unoriginal bar name ever.  Even calling a bar "Bar" would be more original.
• 8:19 p.m.: The bartender gives each of us two beers (even though we only ordered one a piece, of course) on what she term's a "Bartender's Error."  Who are we to protest?
• 8:44 p.m.: We're enjoying the NFL Opening Night game between the Steelers and the Dolphins.  The Dolphins are driving, and I'm rooting for them to score, if only to see Daunte Culpepper do "The Roll."
• 8:45 p.m.: Ronnie Brown scores on a rush.  Daunte doesn't do the roll.
• 8:55 p.m.: Dave and I finish ten minutes of boring law school talk.
• 9:09 p.m.: A guy walks in selling illuminated roses.  So, those guys exist in Texas, too.
• 9:38 p.m.: The Dolphins score their second TD.  Daunte still doesn't do the roll.
• 10:13 p.m.: Dave compares the Riverwalk to Gateway.  They're both preplanned.  We still dig Riverwalk, though.
• 10:19 p.m.: We realize that Tex's is the bar attached to the Hilton on Riverwalk.  We begin to discuss Paris Hilton's DUI.  Dave says, "She drinks every night of the year.  There's no way one drink puts her over the legal limit."

Friday, September 8th

• 12:10 a.m.: After watching the Steelers win and drinking a few more beers, we head out of Tex's Sports Bar, not sure of where we'll stop next.  Our questions are answered when we walk by a bar a few buildings down and hear a pianist playing, "Hang on Sloopy."  We walk in and are surrounded by OSU fans.  After finishing "Hang on Sloopy," the pianist starts playing stuff like "Oh Happy Days."  I start complaining about the music.
• 12:20 a.m.: There's some cool people here, so I stop grumbling to myself about the pianist.  We talk to a couple of Texas fans and a bunch of OSU fans.  One guy, whose son is a walk-on with the OSU football team, is impressed that I went to the University of Dayton for undergrad.
• 1:10 a.m.: After about eight more crappy songs, with three or four more "Hang on Sloopy"s mixed in, the pianist closes his set with a decent "O Danny Boy" duet with some guy from the bar.
• 1:14 a.m.: As the pianist is gathering up his music, I walk over and thank him for playing "Hang on Sloopy."  He says, "I played that song 19 times tonight."  I tell him, "It's o.k.  I'm in a band, and we play it three times a night."
• 1:24 a.m.: Dave asks some woman from Texas where the good late night places to eat are.  She says, "Of course, there's Mi Tierra."  I walk away completely perplexed by what "Mi Tierra" is.
• 1:28 a.m.: Dave and I decide to walk back to Microtel.  Walking to Riverwalk, we had sworn we'd cab it back.  At this point though, we don't mind saving $10.
• 1:46 a.m.: We succumb to temptation and call Domino's for a pizza.  For a second, it looks like the money they spent to advertise on our room keycards paid off for them.  Perhaps luckily for us, Domino's is closed.

• 10:28 a.m.: I wake up, look to see when we're supposed to check out, and find out we've got to be out by 11 a.m.  Guess I'm not taking a shower.
• 10:30 a.m.: I check my phone and see that my man Robb in Columbus has texted me asking, "Lunch today?"  I text him back with: "Sure, meet me at Stubbs in Austin at noon."
• 10:32 a.m.: Dave, who decided to take a shower, alerts me to the fact that there's no shampoo in the hotel room.
• 10:33 a.m.: Robb texts back: "Forgot that."
• 10:45 a.m.: I'm on a texting roll.  I text my sister in Pennsylvania with: "Crocs Rule!"  She calls me and asks what I'm talking about.  I tell her it's my tribute to Steve Irwin.
• 11:00 a.m.: We check out of Microtel.  Other than the no shampoo, it was actually better than its name suggests.
• 11:14 a.m.: We drive by the Alamo.  I was really excited about getting to see it.  You grow up hearing all this stuff about the Alamo, and I had had that Frank Black song in my head for a while ("The Alamo, I've never seen it. / Maybe I'll go there but I don't know.")  It's really not that exciting though.  It's a relatively small building, right in the middle of downtown.  I had expected this huge Spanish-style mission in the middle of a dust field on the outskirts of town.  Oh well.

&

Posted by Renaldo at 03:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

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I read an article today reporting that Stephen Malkmus will appear on the soundtrack to I'm Not There, the upcoming Bob Dylan biopic.  Apparently he's recorded versions of "Maggie's Farm" and "Ballad of a Thin Man" featuring current Dylan Band bassist Tony Garnier and produced by Lee Ranaldo (!).

This has me excited--Malkmus's covers could be the best cover songs released since Pavement's version of "No More Kings" on the School House Rocks! Rocks album.  I can't even imagine what "Maggie's Farm" will sound like, but I envision a screaming keyboard-heavy "Thin Man" that will rock everyone's collective socks.  Really, I'm excited about this.  Since I've heard Guided By Voices cover the Who, Malkmus covering Dylan (twice, even) pretty much tops my list.

Posted by Renaldo at 03:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Sorry for the extended silence on the ol' blog lately.  I can't speak for Mr. Wying, but I personally have been hella busy.

Good things are on the way, though.  Coming next week(ish): the NBR Movie of the Month for September; my reviews of the Bob Dylan concert in Washington (it was really good--better than Columbus), the Sonic Youth/Flaming Lips show in Columbus (where I almost experienced sensory overload), and the new Dylan album/press musings; and--perhaps most exciting--I'm going to do a Bill Simmons-esque diary of my trip this weekend to the Ohio State-Texas showdown in Austin.  It'll all be sweet.

Until then, you can tide yourself over with the last Bill Simmons-esque diary I participated in.  Go Bucks!

Posted by Renaldo at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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