From the armpit of America

Dear Lovers of Loving Love and Online Reunions:

So New Haven isn't nearly as bad as people say. In fact, I'm kind of loving it. I went to a Flogging Molly concert last week, and it was pretty much the best thing ever. Reel Big Fish, The Fiery Furnaces and Del tha Funky Homosapien are all coming this and next month, so I'm basically about to pass out from excitement. I saw the movie The Departed on Friday, and it AMAZING. You are all hereby instructed to see it. The Illusionist, too, was great; it was the kind of escape that I haven't found in a long time. I've discovered that I'm a partier at heart, something I never saw coming. Concerts, dances, scuzzy parties in the basement of frats: I'm at all of them every weekend. I've misplaced my sensible shoes somewhere.

The marching band followed the football team to Dartmouth last weekend. I was wistful for the great state of New Hampshire, except when I woke up in the morning to rehearse and it was 35 degrees. Ugh. My friends and I checked out the Darmouth frat scene. They have a nice frat row, unlike the dirty tenement-like street that we have. All of the parties were in basements and all anyone did was play Beer Pong. It's like the official campus sport or something. No dancing, just Beer Pong, which is possibly the dumbest game ever. I don't believe in drinking to get drunk. You dance and get drunk and return home when the police come, the speakers start smoking (see last night) or your feet feel like they're going to fall off. On the way back I rode "The Fo'ty Bus," on which everyone is provided with forty ounces of malt liquor to drink as we ride for 4 hours back to "The Have." So much drunken singing.

We have amazing, crazy times together in the band. Last night was "The Dirty Dance," which I won't even talk about, it would take too long. One of the best features is the Singing Bus on the way back from home football games. We sing dirty songs at the top of our lungs. One of my favorites goes like this: "My father is a *blank*" The band responds: "A *blank* a *blank*, and a mighty fine *blank* is he!"
You say: "All day he *verb* (he verbs, he verbs)"
Band responds: "And when he comes home he *same verb*s me! Oh dance with me fuck with me, follow the band! Follow the band all the way!" And then the next person goes.
My contribution this week was "My father's a food critic!" "All day he eats out, he outs out, he eats out!" The response is...."And when he comes home he eats me!"
It's really the best use of our minds to come up with dirty double uses for verbs. My father's an elevator, all day he goes down... People occasionally bring their parents on the Singing Bus, and the lesson is this: parents are dirtier than you think.

In short, college is more promiscuous and drunken than I'd anticipated. The guys downstairs are so funny. We can always smell the weed and booze from their room, and Thursday-Saturday, there's bound to be some bass pumping. One of them raps, and he's got this amazing set-up with the speakers, microphones, etc. He writes these absolutely hilarious songs. But anyway...

I have my first midterm tomorrow, for Cognitive Science. I'm hoping it goes well, because I'm considering it as a major. I'm going to try to work in the infant cognition lab or the monkey lab next semester I was determined to never take a math or science course again, but things change. Suddenly I'm interested in neuroscience and secretly dreaming of being an archaeologist, even though I know now that it won't be like Indiana Jones. Or maybe I'll be a psychology major, or anthropology. Anway, the humanities that I was so wed to pursuing are taking a hit.

The water polo coach from my high school said, "The trick is to find something you love doing and get someone to pay you for it." In honor of that, I'm on the path to becoming one of the music review regulars for the newspaper. We get reimbursed for the albums, so I'm building up a collection of really excellent (and not so excellent) free stuff. If you're interested, I've got an article up on the website (from Friday): http://www.yaledailynews.com/Article.aspx?ArticleID=33712
The review I'm writing this week is for this guy called Dosh. He was instrumental and hard to describe beyond being indie, but he's introducing vocals this album. He's got a lot of guest artists, some of whom I like, like Andrew Bird, so I have high hopes.

Volume, formerly gunslinger., the only undergraduate music magazine, is being released on a quarterly basis. I've written a profile piece for Ted Leo of Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, among other things. There's also some song reviews. I'm doing some work on subscriptions, too, because I wanted to see the business side. It's cool because it's only been around for a couple years, and there's still an opportunity to really influence how it's run, as opposed to, say, the Yale Daily News. I LOVE MUSIC. The end.

So, Yale's hard. But as they say, if Yale were easy, it would be your mom. It's definitely worth it, though, and life is good.

Love,
Meredith, Girl of Many Words