Ranting Details

GUEST POST: You Must Be My Lucky Star

In addition to being my house guest for the past week, the wonderful writer (and sort of okay friend) Nick McCarvel has written a wonderful guest post for the RANT!  Enjoy! 

As I darted between shoppers on a crowded Chinatown sidewalk last week, I was sad to be leaving Matt just 24 hours after I had arrived in New York. But I was looking forward to seeing four good friends in Boston and knew my weekend would come and go quickly and before I knew it I would find myself back on the island I have come to love.

I called up my Dad to chat and give him the 411 on my latest adventures and he filled me in on what was going on at home in Montana. They were baking loaves of bread for Easter weekend and my sister had just left for school. “School?” I asked. “On a Saturday morning.” “It’s Friday, Nick,” my Dad replied. “Good Friday.”

I haven’t been a practicing Catholic (or a Catholic in any sense) for almost two years now, so to forget Good Friday is one thing. But, for a boy that holds his daily planner as dear to him as many nuns do their Bibles, it was rather odd for me to have no idea what day it was. But I blamed it on the red-eye flight from Seattle two nights prior, and my trip to Boston had come so soon that I had no idea if it were Tuesday or what month we were in, for that matter.

All of this confusion had come from one thing: The Lucky Star Bus. The Lucky Star bus is famously known to many East Coasters as the “Chinatown bus” along with its counterpart, the Fung Wah. They get their names from their locations: they run from Manhattan’s Chinatown to Chinatown in Boston, just off of the financial district.

I stepped with some hesitancy toward the Lucky Star, a line that has a rather infamous past . I had heard horror stories of buses bursting into flames and being so jam-packed that people had to stand for four hours while an un-cleaned bathroom odor seeped through the passenger cabin.

But for the price of $31 (round-trip, that is), how could I resist?

As I boarded the bus, along with other Boston-goers for the weekend, I was rather surprised to find it clean and lacking any rats scurrying on the floor or crabby Chinese women pushing people to the back to fill the bus to its “Chinatown” capacity. Sure, there were some pushy Chinese women, but they mostly barked at each other while 55 of us filed in and took our seats for the ride.

As we inched our way out of Manhattan, I dozed in and out of a much-needed nap while the couple in front of me argued then made up (a pattern which would continue for all four hours) and the man next to me snored loudly. If anything, the Chinatown bus reminded me of any middle-class travel experience in the U.S. The driver might have been a bit crazy (taking an off-ramp short cut at one point that put us way ahead those stuck on the interstate), I stepped off the bus mostly unscathed in Boston, though a bit motion-sick.

While Matt was off at Dia with Carson and Timur, I re-connected with friends in Boston and found that East Coast traveling can be an adventure, but not necessarily one that has to include explosions or steep price tags. And don’t forget your trashy magazines for reading materials; they’re a must on a day spent on the Chinatown.

(My educational reading materials for the day.)

Lazy Post of the Day: I Want A Christmas Tree

Everyone's favorite Seattlitte Nicholas has delivered a dose of holiday cheer  to Ranting Details!  Anyone familiar with the Britney Spears disaster song "Piece of Me," will recognize the tune, but who knew that Nick had such songwriting skills inside of him?!   He and his roommate Lauren spent lots of (possibly ridiculous amounts of) time reworking the lyrics to Spears' latest single and even choreographed some dance moves to go along with the festivities.  In need of a holiday laugh?  Look no further than Nick's committed performance of "I Want A Christmas Tree," which just may beat out Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas" on the pop charts this season. 

GUEST POST TIME! Third Time Around: Kelly's "My December" An Icy-Hot Experience

Unless you are just coming to the blog, you are well aware of the presence of the fantastic Nick McCarvel in my life.  Friends for almost four years now, our relationship was solidified this summer as he spent a few months in the city working for Tennis Magazine.  Nick is a journalism major at Seattle University and he is an absolutely fantastic writer.  When he emailed me about posting a review of the Kelly Clarkson concert he attended this past Monday, I jumped at the chance.  Regardless of what you think of Clarkson, take a minute to read Nick's wonderfully written review!  Enjoy! 

Third Time Around: Kelly’s My December an Icy-Hot Experience
Nick McCarvel

Junior year in high school was when I finally hit my stride: I left the pimples behind (mostly), started thinking about college (constantly) and finally came out to my family (gradually).

It was the same year in college that I felt like I knew what I was about: a journalism student (read “writer”), advocate of communal living (read “cheap”) and lover of poppy beats (read “Kelly Clarkson”).

So last night, when I attended my third Kelly concert – my junior experience in the School of Kelly – it was no surprise that I finally felt at home with the pop diva.

For those of you who have never experienced a Kelly Clarkson concert, they are a sight to be seen. Forget the screaming teenagers who you see on TRL, or the gay queens that indulge in the techno re-mixes of Kelly’s stuff; Kelly attracts a fan base diverse in sex, age, race, scene and style.

Though Clarkson has taken a recent beating in the media for her not-so-successful junior album, My December, the petite Texan was stunning as usual in her live on-stage performance at the comfy Paramount Theatre in Seattle.

Her opening number “One Minute,” with its elementary, but angry lyrics certainly got me hooked. I was partly expecting a half-full auditorium full of the Kelly crazies, people like Stefani, who liken Kelly to a goddess.

Much the contrary: the Kelly Trains were out in force. The packed place stood the entire concert, waving cell phone, glow sticks and cameras toward the original American Idol. Here’s a sample of the Kelly Trains of the night:

“We Made Shirts With Numbers on the Back!” Kelly Train

"My Girlfriend Made Me Come...I Don't Even Know Who Kelly Clarkson Is" Kelly Train

"I Can't Wait to Tell My Homeroom Friends About the Concert!" Kelly Train

"Kelly Is Therapeutic for My Unborn Baby" Kelly Train

The Paramount crowd jammed with Kelly from the first beat, and though the rocker got louder and larger cheers for her hits like “Since You Been Gone” and “Behind These Hazel Eyes,” Clarkson showed her voice hasn’t slipped a step with incredible acoustic ballads like “Sober” and “Maybe.”

Perhaps it was the two rum and cokes in my system, or the fact that I just was loving my Kelly too much, but Clarkson seemed more on her game than I had ever seen her. Perhaps she feels more at home in the smaller, more intimate venues like the Paramount than she did when she performed to crowds of over 10,000 on her last nationwide tour.

My friend and I Cassie took turns providing the microphone for one another as the couple to the right of us (think “Yuppie Suburban Couple Kelly Train”) rolled their eyes at our antics. I rotated between taking pictures, recording video, sending “OMG I’M AT KELLY!” texts and leaving obnoxious I-know-you-can’t-actually-hear-this-but-I-called-anyway voicemails for the entire set. While Kelly bounced around every inch of the stage in a shiny, purple top, Cassie and I couldn’t help but wonder a little: has our girl gained weight?

Regardless of any weight gain – Kelly always looks good – the concert was a smashing success. Though Kelly was on stage for only an hour or so, the crowd left energized and upbeat. There’s no doubt that the various Kelly Trains look forward to Kelly’s fourth album, rumored to be due out sometime in 2008. I, however, might argue that like me, Kelly’s third effort was just as good as any – especially live.

Room For Roomies: A Goodbye to Seattle

(A delicious treat from a Seattle coffee shop.)

Until my week in Seattle, I had forgotten the pleasure of having roommates.  From the time I was sixteen, until I moved into my current apartment when I was nineteen, I dealt with my fair share of characters.  High school was my first test, living in a small room with a sink, bunk beds, and enough drama to fill a few seasons of an MTV reality show.  Then came the year I lived in an East Village apartment with six teenage boys.  The mice outnumbered the humans, nachos were the closest we ever got to a balanced meal, and scheduling shower time was as difficult as getting into the posh bars that surrounded us. 

When I got my contract to join the main company, I thought I was finally free to have a normal apartment with only one roommate.  Little did I know it was to be the worst experience yet.  Between a dog that mistook my furniture for the sidewalk, mice that decided our kitchen was the hottest nesting spot in town, and a roommate that in the end was schizophrenic (not a joke) it left a bad taste in my mouth.  By the time my roommate threatened me, I skipped work, hauled my stuff piece by piece to the storage facility and swore off roommates for good.

(A plus side of having roommates?  They can tell you if you stink.)

Over the past seven months I’ve had extreme moments of loneliness.  My apartment is filled with incredible memories from the past two years, but also many bad ones that seem peskier than the mice of my previous experiences.  It’s hard for me to be seven months into an illness and look over to my bed where I remember sitting and reading a book when I first got diagnosed with EBV.  At that time, as the summer sun beat down on my back through the window, the worst-case scenario was that I would be out for a month.  Unfortunately, and thankfully at other times, life is unpredictable and I’ve taken a few steps forward and a few steps back in my journey so far. 

It wasn’t until I got sick that I had ever wished for a roommate again.  Privacy in New York is more cherished than a summer house in the Hamptons.  I’ve enjoyed having my own den to dance around in my boxers whenever I care to.  Over the past week in Seattle, I was reminded of the joys that come with having roommates.  Rachel, Lauren, Steve, and Natalie showed me that the bonds created by living in close quarters are much like being family.  Even in my four days there I felt like an adopted member of the clan.

(Nick and Lauren mid "Catch Phrase" on my final night.  This game is a workout.)

(Rachel shows off her gorgeous engagement ring.  No, she's not Nick's fiance.)

(Nick pours some celebratory sparkling cider.)

After my previous debacles with roomies, it’s a testament to their personalities that at this moment I’m craving a roommate of my own.  Then again, I’m sure the minute one moved in I would be setting up roommate traps just like I tried to catch the mice in my previous adventures.

(We roll with gaaaaaaaaaaangs.)

 

Boston....I Mean Seattle Market.

Even though I know about as much about cooking as I do about the lost art of custom leather (first thing that came up when I googled "the lost art of," don't ask) I was pretty excited to journey to the legendary Pike Place Market the other day.  Resting on the water at the bottom of downtown, the market is a congregation of local merchants who sell everything from crazy looking fish to elaborate mushrooms and all the produce in between.  It's a food lovers dream and there are more vibrant colors collected at a single produce stand than an entire Crayola box set.  There's also the occasional tourist stand selling Seattle shirts, princess scrunchies (the most tempting item of the day) and cigars.  Basically if you're a Space Needle loving, cigar smoking princess, this is the place for you. 

(Neon fish taste delicious.)

(A little live music to counter the craziness.)

(Disney certainly makes fish and crabs more appealing.)

(Looking out through the overcast skies.)

(The very first Starbucks ever.  I was so happy to see that local coffee shops seem to be more popular than the chains.)

I did a lot of eating while I was in Seattle, so by the time I passed this shop the thought of sugar practically sent me into a coma.  That didn't stop me from gawking a little bit at the magnificent creations.  You might as well just remove all of your teeth though if you are going to sink into one of these, enough sugar to keep you up for a year straight. 

(APPLES!)

(Kind of looks like it's been dipped in paint.)

(ET would love this one.)

(Southern Comfort=Just for Blaine.)

(A mouthful of cavities in a delicious ball.)

 

Picture of the Day: 11/10/07

(Nicky Woodenarms.  That's going to be the title of my new debut film.  I don't know exactly what I was doing with my camera when I came up with this one, but I love it.  I've gotten so used to the weight and overall incredibleness of my precious camera that now when I use my point and shoot it feels as small and useless as a penny in comparison.  And I can't make Nicky Woodenarms on my point and shoot.  That's a major problem.)

Entering the West Coast Honeycomb

For some reason when I was entering Seattle in a cab from the airport, the driver was a bit lost taking me to my destination.  I'm terrible with directions even in places that I'm familiar with, so when he was glancing in the rear-view mirror with a look of confusion it wasn't exactly the most reassuring moment of my life.  After toiling around the streets of downtown Seattle for a few uphill blocks, I looked out to my right and saw a giant building reminiscent of the Honeycomb building in NYC.  My cab driver was informed of at least a few things, including the fact that this mysterious building was the new Seattle public library.

I finally made it to Nick's house that first night, but knew that I wanted my way back downtown to the library at some point during my stay here.  Fortunately, yesterday we did just that.  I fell in love with the building which showcased incredible artistic architecture while maintaining its useful, quiet, library-ness. 

(A view from outside.  It reminds me of the Astro Crag on Guts.  Anyone?  I wonder if I climb to the top there will be a glitter shower explosion?)

(I LOVE IT!)

(Nick tries to process what is going on in the lobby.)

(All it took was a quick escalator ride on the neon expressway to take us to the stacks.)

(There were plenty of amazing books, but too much visual stimulation for me to focus on them.)

(Looking out on the other boring buildings.)

(Fancy space style air-vents.)

(Then there are of course the books.)

(I want to climb on it.)

(Nick searches out his home on an old Seattle map.)

(Beautiful light shining in.)

(At the top of the building you get the honeycomb melding with the mental institution padding.)

(My favorite picture of the day.  Encompassing all of the elements.)

It's RANT Time! Seattle Style.

Yesterday morning I walked through endless piles of leaves.  Red, green, yellow, and orange leaves gathered at my feet and with each step I was reminded of the changing season.  Being in Seattle means that I get to experience the beauty of Fall’s barren trees and the foliage practically begs for my finger to ignite the shutter on my camera.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first thought that was ignited as I walked with Nick’s roommate Rachel. 

Standing side by side, with Rachel pushing her bike and navigating through the various ruins of the summer, I remembered how wonderful it is to be around someone completely removed from the dance world for a moment.  We bounced questions back and forth about our upbringings and where we see ourselves in the future, and I was amazed at how different my track has been, and will be, from hers. 

At a young age, I made the decision that I was going to be a professional ballet dancer and would will my body into following that path.  To my friends in Montana, who at fourteen were especially driven themselves, they couldn’t fathom what it was like to not only know what I wanted to do with my life, but to have to sacrifice the life I had created and move across country to get the proper training at an arts high school.  By the time I was sixteen, I knew that I was going to move to New York and join the Studio Company.  At seventeen, I knew I was going to join the main company.  And at 18, I suddenly felt like I had plateaued. 

It wasn’t that my goals were suddenly gone, it was that I had already accomplished such a huge part of my initial plan and I felt a little lost.  When I was busy perusing apartments and negotiating a lease, most of my friends in the “real” world were just moving away to college and beginning the first steps into their future lives.  Now, four years later, I’m on the eve of their graduation and it’s a rather unsettling feeling.  I alternate between being extremely proud of them and incredibly confused by how alienated the arts world can seem from everything else. 

(Natalie and Rachel do a little studying.)

From what I’ve experienced, ballet dancers progress at a rate far accelerated from their peers until they join a company.  At that moment, after years of guidance and studying under the watchful eyes of teachers, it seems like you are let loose into a world of the unknown.  School didn’t quite set me up for the amount of self-motivation that dancing in a company required.  I feel as if it took two years for me to really process and apply that idea.  Looking back on it, I’m amazed that I survived some of what I went through when I was eighteen.  I thought I was this mature boy walking through the streets of New York and only now do I realize how truly naïve I was to some things.  I’m still very naïve to others. 

One of the things I’m most naïve to is the life of a typical college student.  Before I knew it, Rachel and I had arrived at Nick’s workplace.  Situated on a corner of a rather typical intersection, Katy’s Coffee House is one of several adorable independent coffee houses that I’ve enjoyed in the past forty-eight hours.  How is it that New York cannot manage to have anything but chains?!  Every shop that I enter here has charm and character to spare.  They showcase local artists, add life to neighborhoods, and bring together groups of people who seem much friendlier than the sometimes uptight New Yorkers who might as well order a caffeine drip at the register.  On top of that, they are an excellent alternative to the bar scene in New York. 

After pushing open the door to Katy’s, I walked in and saw Nick behind the counter working his charm on various customers as he flipped cups, whirred nozzles and prepared numerous drinks at one time.  Suddenly I saw a view not only of Nick, but of something that I would never be.  It seems strange to me that in all likelihood I will never hold a job in the service industry.  I’ve been lucky up to this point in my career in the sense that I’ve only had to do one job to support myself.  I want to make it clear that I say this without the slightest hint of condescension, it’s only a slight sense of wonder. 

(Nick the barista.)

Nick is just progressing to the stage of his life where he is figuring out how he’s going to take the tools and the knowledge he acquired in school and build a career path; I was going through this when I was sixteen. 

There’s no doubt that with my current health crisis I’ve been more aware than ever at how quickly a dance career can come to a halt.  At times, though, I worry that the dancers within the ballet world halt themselves with their lack of hunger for building knowledge.  Being around non-dancers only exacerbates this problem in my head. 

In many ways, it pains me to be sitting here typing this.  While I was riding the bus back to Nick’s house yesterday, I was overcome with a wave of sadness at my presence in Seattle.  Without a doubt, I’m overjoyed to see Nick, experience his world, and see a city that I’ve never been to; I just wish it were under different circumstances.  Getting this taste of the real world, and watching real college students studying and stressing (and procrastinating) wouldn’t be happening if I weren’t sick.  However, it was the first time in 48 hours that I’d been overwhelmed by EBV, which is a huge accomplishment for me and a testament to Nick. 

When I was sitting watching him interact with all of his customers I was amazed at how much I can learn from him as a person.  Not that I need to learn how to be a barista, but he and his friends seem to have a hunger and be more well rounded because of their college lives.   It should be as much of a requirement as wearing a dance belt or pointe shoes that we have friends outside of the dance world.  Unfortunately, we can be very insular.  Just like the trees are shedding their leaves, I hope that through my experiences with this virus I will be able to shed some of the parts of myself that I get frustrated by.

(The cast of characters at Katy's.)

(The coolest tea strainer ever.  You just set it on top of the cup and let it drain.)

(Surprise!)

Seattle Grace? Seattle Grey. And I'm loving it.

I'm approaching the 24 hour mark of my first stay in Seattle and I feel like I've packed a lot of excitement into the first day.  It's only half-time, as Nick is away being a busy college student and I have some rest/blog time to prepare for our evening excursions. 

So far, a few things about Seattle have appeared to be true. 

1) As popular opinion will have you believe, it is GREY and RAINY.  The landscape surrounding the city, from what I could see of Puget Sound while we were downtown this afternoon is gorgeous but Nick told me that it's often veiled in the shroud of overcast skies that are making themselves known today.  Of course, this comes immediately after my cab ride into the city where the friendly driver boasted how it had been a week of relatively clear sky and "not a drop of rain."  I'm happy to know that I am capable of delivering things back to the norm.

2) Starbucks is everywhere. 

3) The Space Needle is SUPER underwhelming (at least from a distance.)  It's much tinier than I expected it to be and seems dwarfed in the skyline by the enormous buildings surrounding it. 

After spending the evening with Nicks incredible roommates, Lauren, Rachel and Natalie, I drugged myself to sleep and awoke feeling like I'd drugged myself to sleep fresh faced and ready to explore.  A quick check of the blog and a few bowls of Peanut Butter Puffins later, I journeyed out to take the public transportation of Seattle and get a feel of what city life is like on this coast.  Somehow, even though I grew up a mere 8 hour drive from this metropolis, I've never set foot anywhere in Washington except for Spokane.  There's a first time for everything. 

I'm hesitant to bring this up, as I know it will offend a little bit but I'm always struck by how tame homeless people in New York seem compared to homeless people in other large cities.  In my experience in Detroit, Cleveland and now Seattle are any indication, they seem to be much more abrasive than they are in the city.  Of course I'm generalizing, and now I'll stop. 

Parading around the downtown area, my eyes came very close to exploding from their sockets when I spotted a See's Candy, a sugary staple of my childhood in California.  Anyone who hasn't experienced the deliciousness that is See's immediately needs to get on a plane to the West Coast.  The mall kiosks selling boxes pale in comparison to store bought See's and god forbid you think that Godiva is the best chocolate you've had.  If I could send a sample of heaven through the computer, it would come through as a See's Vanilla Buttercream chocolate. 

An ode to See's:

(Enjoying the streets of Seattle.)

(Who knew they could put your childhood in a little paper bag?!)

(As they would say in Ratatouille "Close to Godliness.")

After doing a little shopping and gorging on chocolate we decided to check out SAM, the Seattle Art Museum.  One of my favorite things to do whenever I go to a new city is check out the local art museums.  Sometimes I'm exposed to something completely new to me while other times I find hidden gems from some of my favorite artists.  Unfortunately I was rather disappointed with SAM.

To start with, the building is beautiful and has just undergone a huge renovation.  Some of the rooms are quaint while others are cavernous with huge ceilings that make the displayed art that much more striking.  Oddly enough though, with all of this recent renovation there is no coherence to the museum at all.  One room with contain Andy Warhol's and other pop art while the next room has eighteenth century portraits and the next has Mexican artifacts.  It's a very strange sense of disconnection that I've never experienced in a museum before.  Even though some of the time periods on display were not my favorite, this was only confounded by the way that they were presented.  Nick and I also had a hard time getting over the dismal metal chairs lining the walls that look more like they belong in a Target display room than an art museum.

(Nick discovered that using a flash makes the escalators much more interesting.)

(Some cool exploding cars were lining the lobby.)

Fortunately, there was one gem that made the entire trip worth it: "Woman" by Willem de Kooning.  My love affair with this brilliant abstract expressionist (I've yet to meet another person that really enjoys him...am I truly alone on this?!) is growing increasingly passionate.  I've recently pondered reading his incredible biography again and seeing this painting today made me wish I had it in hand at the moment. 

de Kooning created many different paintings for his "Woman" series, a violent, psychological, and frantic explosion of the female form which startled the art world with its apparent intensity during the late 1940's.  I've never seen this painting of his before in any books, so it made the discovery in person that much more exciting.  Two eyes, slightly clouded but still the most clear image in the entire canvas, stare out to the viewer in an expression that almost accompanies itself by a silent blood curdling scream; I couldn't stop staring at it.   

All of the abstract expressionist 's paintings have such movement to them, they are as close to dance as I think painting comes and perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to them.  There were a few Pollacks, Rothkos, Klines and even an Arshille Gorky, de Kooning's best friend and mentor.

(Gloriously deranged.)

After the elation that came with that discovery nothing could quite match it but there were a few more things of interest, most notably...

(This incredible robe made entirely out of dog tags.  I've been wanting a new robe, I think I've found my pick.)

That brings me up to this moment, blogging on the couch.  My brain is feeling a bit foggy today, so forgive me if this post was a bit erratic.  Perhaps it was the two other things we found while on our morning excursion?

(I don't think I'll be making a trip  here.)

(But I am tempted to journey here again.  I especially love the crazy Santa on the left.  Slightly out of place?)

(Meaningless pumpkin shot.  I was going to try to connect it to the Seattle grunge scene of the early 90's, but The Smashing Pumpkins weren't exactly a part of that.  Oops.)

(The leaves are fading pretty.)

 

Where's Meridith Grey?

I spent all day flying across the country but I can assure everyone that it's completely worth it.  After a draining flight which caused my throat and stomach to flare up a bit, I am safe in my West Coast destination: SEATTLE!!!   Sorry to disappoint all of the others who guessed such exotic locations.  I'd love to hear the reasoning behind all of them!  Ms. Miriam Madry is the lucky winner of a (soon to be revealed) "RANTING DETAILS" SHIRT!

My flights were full of wonderful self help books, Alicia Keys analysis, Ann Lamott's fantastic writing book "Bird By Bird" and a little iPod viewing of "Ratatouille," which as of now is still in my top ten movies of the year.  As if that weren't enough to wear me out, I got so excited to see Nick and meet his roommates, I'm practically drooling on the keyboard at the moment.  I'm too tired to even string together thoughts but get ready for some fun Seattle posts with my partner in crime Nick!

(We're not in New York anymore.  Mt. Rainier welcomes me to the West Coast.)

(Hanging out after a wonderful dinner getting to know Nick's fantastic roommates.  Twins wearing the new BIP/BON shirts I designed for us.) 

(BIP/BON bloggers before bedtime.  QUINTUPLE aliteration.  We could be a Mac vs. PC ad.  Can we have our own commercial?)