Column: How To Successfully Avoid The Imaginary Limelight

     by Graham Weber

Never Trust A Man In This Much Denim - Photo: Jessica Adie

We coaxed local musician Graham Weber off the coattails of his latest album The Door To The Morning to come over and write a column for us here at the Dic. Ever the pushover, Graham agreed, and we’re pleased to bring you the idle thoughts of one of America’s greatest singer-songwriters. You can catch Vol. 1 of How To Successfully Avoid The Imaginary Limelight on his myspace. Vol. 2 is waiting for you below.

It’s raining as the clock strikes 1am. It’s coming down hard and I’m hoping that the wall between my kitchen and the side yard doesn’t decide that it is water soluble as it has done from time to time in the past. I’m exhausted. My body hurts and I can’t seem to get caught up with the things I need to get done… so of course, I’m writing this instead. Rain in the middle of the night is one of my favorite things. I sit in my garage and smoke, and as of late I’ve been nostalgic. Unintentionally finding myself clinging to a youth that gets farther away with every bill and brutal morning after.

Shout out!

To my brotha, Leatherbag, on releasing his new album entitled “Love and Harm” tonight at the Cactus Café. It’s a solid record through and through, and LB and the boys sounded great this evening.

When I was in high school there was a radio station in Swifton Commons Mall, 100.9FM The Wiz, and you could call in and give actual shout outs to your homeys. Primarily an urban formatted station, the Wiz would kick the jams of yesterday and today, and they had a kick ass Friday night mix show. My friends and I would drive around the burbs, in my friend Marv’s Buick LaSaber, bumping the Wiz at high volumes, on factory speakers, through white bread middle America. We didn’t go to Swifton Commons. We had three other malls within twelve minutes in every direction. It had the reputation of being the rough mall, the kind of place you could get some fresh gear, a crack rock or two, and a twenty dolla holla just down the block. I had been there once with the girl I went out with the summer before my freshman year of high school. We met in summer gym. I was taking it to get it out of the way so I wouldn’t have to shower in the middle of the day during the year. She was taking it to fulfill her credit to graduate from the vocational school. I was fourteen, she was eighteen. She drove a Trans Am with “T-tops,” and all her friends were gang members. They were all very cool and welcoming to me and I have nothing bad to say about any of them. As the summer came to an end, so to did our relationship. I don’t know if the mall is still there or if the Wiz is still on the air much less doing shout outs… but if I were walking by the Blue Chip Broadcasting Company plate glass window that faced into the center corridor and looked at the Foot Locker, or in range to pick up the frequency, I would throw a shout out not only to LB, but to Marv, Rebecca, and all of her friends (on the inside and the outside). I don’t even have a radio anymore… but big ups to my people holdin’ it down all over the world…. A big Budweiser “Wazzzzzup” to the whole lot of ya.

Facebook vs. Myspace

People often come up to me on the street and ask me that eternal question that is plaguing the American public… “Facebook or MySpace.” It is the kind of question I would love to answer simply by replying, “I don’t give a flying fuck, good day sir.” Unfortunately, I do have an opinion, and since this is my column, I will give you my answer. I have accounts on both. I use them for music, but I don’t know how to work Facebook and I’ve already got MySpace figured out. I hate that I have so many accounts, and passwords, and inboxes and outboxes… and I would be truly happy to go back to rotary phones and the internet would go back into Al Gore or Pete Townsend’s head (whomever you believe came up with it). But, due to the snide looks and elitist attitudes of some Facebook loyalists, my opinion has morphed into an immeasurable disdain and disgust at the thought of logging in and associating with those people. They are all scum until someone can prove me wrong (except my friends on Facebook, to which none of this applies).

Reunions

This week I was sent a link to the Facebook page for my 10 year high school reunion. I only talk to one person from my actual high school. My friend Q, and he didn’t even go to graduation. When I was a senior, the school district had grown so big they built two high schools and split them into East and West. The combined graduating class of ’98 was well over 1000 kids. The reunion page only had 150 people listed… many of whom I do not remember. I knew it would be coming up. I had a dream about it a few months ago, and the next day was a day of screen-printing t-shirts while rattling through John Cusack movies. Gross Point Blank, High Fidelity, and 1408. The latter has nothing to do with this, but I will say it’s a good watch. I found out that my reunion is being held at a pub/restaurant, the kind that is decorated in things that you might see in a SkyMall magazine… “The Brazenhead” etched into plaques, pint glasses, paperweights, doormats, etc. The Brazenhead is not how I envisioned my reunion in my dream. Every reunion I’ve ever seen on television, or in films, are always held in the high school gymnasium. There are nametags, and overweight girls who used to be breathtaking. There are grim reminders of elapsing time, and, if you’re lucky, answers, vindication, or reconciliation and acceptance. I don’t care about high school. I didn’t care about it when I was there and I don’t care about it now. Most of you have been there; some of you graduated and learned how to turn on a computer. It would be nice though to go and put on the nametag, because I know I’m much cooler now than I was back then and I have a much cooler job than most of those people, but I’m still a dork. And I’m at a place in my life where I’m okay with that. It happens to fall on my fifth wedding anniversary, and I would so much rather spend the evening with the one person I care about, and choose to be around, than a handful of people I was forced to be around and really don’t know at all. Go Firebirds.

Vol. 2 Summary

Leatherbag’s new album “Love and Harm” 5 out of 5 stars.

Shout outs need to make a comeback if for no other reason than to give a logical cause to keep broadcast radio on the air… The Wiz wouldn’t play my music, but nobody else really does either… so my advice is to call in to a radio station, get on the air live… and break every FCC rule and regulation you can before they cut you off… and try to show yo’ love for someone important in your mothafuckin’ life.

*although a bit tacky, end your shout out with a “Biatch” ala Doggystyle. It’s only okay if you actually bought G-funk records, at the mall, when they were released.

9 out of 10 dentists, college dropouts, musicians, and insomniacs prefer MySpace over Facebook. Facebook is for people who have to wear ties. I wear one to distract from my vagabond appearance. A tie can make up for bags under your eyes, holes in your jeans, and the aroma of cigarettes and corner store wine.

John Cusack is generally a safe bet. Be weary of Pushing Tin, and Must Love Dogs.

High School Reunions should be like P.E. Everyone awkwardly huddled into the gymnasium of your alma mater… trying to size everyone else up and remember their names. If held at a makeshift pub in Suburbia, USA, it won’t require a change of clothes, but it may be more embarrassing and traumatic than it was the first time around. I’ll save you some time and frustration… the dickhead that you didn’t like then… you probably still won’t, except this time he’ll be drinking Jeagerbombs. The girls who didn’t like you probably will now, because the Jeagerbomb guy (or some other Jeagerbomb guy) messed them up pretty good… and all in all, you will come to the conclusion that getting away from where you went to high school may have been the best move of your life. Cheers class of ’98… See you in 2018. I’ll be escorted by my army of kung fu hookers that I thought I would have already assembled by now.

And always try to be around for anniversaries… but don’t rely on the back of your local entertainment newspaper or yellow pages to find that something or someone special to “spice it up”… the best way to find a third is through word of mouth. But if you are relegated to the personals… quite simply post “No Dudes and No Fat Chicks” and you’re life should be cream cheese from here on in. Hope it helps.

Buy my record,
-GW.