Monday, July 20, 2009

M. Ward is my new best friend.

So there’s this possibility that I could be M. Ward’s personal chauffeur a few days from now and I can’t pretend not to be excited. Granted, he just needs a ride to the radio station from the Gallivan Center and back and, sure, these kinds of things fall through a whole lot more than they actually pan out, but I’m still plenty jazzed about the possibility. These are those kinds of possibilities that keep me up at night. If it doesn’t happen, I’ll let it roll off. If it does, however, I’m going to see about taking the scenic route there and back. There’s even this part of my crazy brain that’s already planning ahead for our car conversation. And it’s gotta sound unplanned, so that’s preparation on top of preparation in order for that to properly take place. Some of them are questions, others are merely points of interest.

Welcome to my rough draft.

Okay, so Zooey? Seriously? Could you not have made it happen with her before Ben Gibbard lost all that weight and made his move? Did you even try? You do know that everybody thinks you are practically Mr. Deschanel anyway? Or am I the only one having to correct them? And my pop culture knowledge is only fair to middling, but even I know that.

On a related note, do you know how serious the two of those jokers are, anyway? If not, do you have her number on your cell phone? And, if that’s the case, can I borrow it for a while? Promise to give it back. I just want to ask why she never responded to my MySpace messages is all. And maybe ask to be invited to the wedding so’s I can break it up or whatever.

Relate how his song “Rollercoaster” became the song of my weekend, what, two years ago? When I seemed to hear it with new ears and pretty much have ever since? When I was sorta dating that Kiwi and we were in Vegas and sorta falling for one another, her writing songs about me and my getting lost in that accent and smile. Well, until our paths forked, she got hitched to someone else and promptly made a couple-a cute kids. Hmm, maybe I’ll leave that one out.

That David Bowie cover? The one that got all slowed down and made sexy? The one that sounds like a late night whisper? Still one of the best all-time covers out there, no contest.

I once converted my friend Brooks to your music after he heard “Chinese Translation” for the first time. And we’re talking about a guy who, up until that point, listened to nothing but Mariah Carey albums on repeat. From Top 40 to falling for your entire catalog, hook, line, sinker. Even called it the greatest song of its kind ever written. Went on and on about how you’d flat-out reinvented the way an acoustic song should be written. So, um, how do you respond to that?

Why the M. and not the Matt? What do you have against your first name anyway?

Your set at Sasquatch this year was one of the best flowing of all the acts there. When I say that, I mean that your songs were timed so well and your band was so on point, it practically sounded like one all-too-brief medley of M. Ward songs. You were more of a pro and doing it better than others who’ve been in the game years and years longer than you have. Consider this your pat on the back.

Hey, can we take a photo where it looks more like we’re best friends and less like I’m just the one volunteering to be your Utah taxi? Wait … are we best friends? For real?

Okay, so it’s a work in progress. And, should I run out of appropriate questions, I’ll revert to talking s’more about Zooey because, come on, can anyone get tired of finding out more about her? That’s rhetorical. Naturally.


Melanie said...

You're going to have to take him to the radio station by way of Provo to get all of that in, but I think that's a good list to start with.

cropstar said...

you have a cool life.

The Soviet said...

what's wrong with listening to mariah albums on repeat?

i wish i could make this up but i've been listening to mariah for the past two hours. on repeat.

Cindy said...

You forgot to write about the part where you offer to wipe his bum for him.

Lee said...

My friend chauffered Gene Siskel around for a few days. Less than a year later, Siskel was gone.

Think about it, and be gentle.