Diatribes by Joah

The Opposite of Loneliness

This isn't something I wrote, but I had to share this because it touched me in such a way that very few things I read do. This originally appeared on the Yale Daily News site.

KEEGAN: The Opposite of Loneliness

Marina Keegan '12. Photo by Facebook.

The piece below was written by Marina Keegan '12 for a special edition of the News distributed at the class of 2012's commencement exercises last week. Keegan died in a car accident on Saturday. She was 22.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life. What I’m grateful and thankful to have found at Yale, and what I’m scared of losing when we wake up tomorrow and leave this place.

It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.

Yale is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. A cappella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers — partner-less, tired, awake. We won’t have those next year. We won’t live on the same block as all our friends. We won’t have a bunch of group-texts.

This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse – I’m scared of losing this web we’re in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now.

But let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. They’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to New York and away from New York and wish we did or didn’t live in New York. I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old. Any notion of THE BEST years comes from clichéd “should haves...” “if I’d...” “wish I’d...”

Of course, there are things we wished we did: our readings, that boy across the hall. We’re our own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. Sleeping too late. Procrastinating. Cutting corners. More than once I’ve looked back on my High School self and thought: how did I do that? How did I work so hard? Our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.

But the thing is, we’re all like that. Nobody wakes up when they want to. Nobody did all of their reading (except maybe the crazy people who win the prizes…) We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay.

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

When we came to Yale, there was this sense of possibility. This immense and indefinable potential energy – and it’s easy to feel like that’s slipped away. We never had to choose and suddenly we’ve had to. Some of us have focused ourselves. Some of us know exactly what we want and are on the path to get it; already going to med school, working at the perfect NGO, doing research. To you I say both congratulations and you suck.

For most of us, however, we’re somewhat lost in this sea of liberal arts. Not quite sure what road we’re on and whether we should have taken it. If only I had majored in biology…if only I’d gotten involved in journalism as a freshman…if only I’d thought to apply for this or for that…

What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.

In the heart of a winter Friday night my freshman year, I was dazed and confused when I got a call from my friends to meet them at EST EST EST. Dazedly and confusedly, I began trudging to SSS, probably the point on campus farthest away. Remarkably, it wasn’t until I arrived at the door that I questioned how and why exactly my friends were partying in Yale’s administrative building. Of course, they weren’t. But it was cold and my ID somehow worked so I went inside SSS to pull out my phone. It was quiet, the old wood creaking and the snow barely visible outside the stained glass. And I sat down. And I looked up. At this giant room I was in. At this place where thousands of people had sat before me. And alone, at night, in the middle of a New Haven storm, I felt so remarkably, unbelievably safe.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I’d say that’s how I feel at Yale. How I feel right now. Here. With all of you. In love, impressed, humbled, scared. And we don’t have to lose that.

We’re in this together, 2012. Let’s make something happen to this world.

My Letter to Lakers GM Mitch Kupchak:

Dear Mr. Kupchak,

That final game against the Thunder, hell the whole series, was so painful. I watched Game 5 on a plane back from New York to Austin, where I live, and about cried. Another masterful season by Kobe Bryant lost. That's the short version. The long version is for another letter. But, there was hope when I finally got home at 1:30 a.m. and listened to what Kobe Bryant said in the post-game press conference. I know you probably read this or heard it in person, but it’s worth sharing again, I think.

“I’m not the most patient of people and the organization’s not extremely patient either. We want to win and win now. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. We always have and I’m sure we will again.”

“I’m not fading into the shadows, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not going anywhere…We’re not going anywhere. It’s not one of those things where the Bulls beat the Pistons and the Pistons disappeared forever. I’m not going for that shit.”

“It’s tough to really process (so soon) exactly what we need with improvements and what area we need to improve on, but that’s something that we’ll definitely think through and we’ve really been great at as an organization. Mitch has really done a phenomenal job this past decade in building title teams pretty quickly. We just have to do it again."

So here’s why I’m sharing this. Kobe is the voice of the Lakers. To that extent, his voice is my voice. Although I shouldn’t really be a Lakers fan, I am, and I’m a huge one. And, frankly, if Kobe trusts you to improve the team, I should too.

I know you were an All-American at North Carolina and an Olympian then played with the Lakers in the ‘80s and have the rings to prove it. I know you were Jerry West’s understudy in the front office. I know you’ve been criticized and ridiculed, but have endured it all over the last decade since Mr. West’s departure. I know you pulled off the Pau Gasol trade that revitalized the franchise. I know you almost pulled off the Chris Paul trade that would’ve put another nail in the Clippers’ coffin. I know you made the decision to set Derek Fisher free. I know you care about the Lakers just as much, if not more, than anyone at the organization. I know, with the exception of your boss (the Buss’s), that only you can make good on helping Kobe Bean Bryant win that elusive 6^th NBA title.

I share this because there’s something else I know about you. I know you are going to do something to make sure next year’s team is better than this year’s team; not only because Kobe needs to win another title to tie Michael Jordan. No, that’s only part of the reason. The true reason is because the failure of this team – and last year’s team – is due to one reason, and one reason alone: too many players on the team don’t know what it means to be a Laker.

If you’re not shaking your head in agreement, then you can feel free to stop reading. But I have a feeling you agree. The funny thing is, I didn’t grow up a Lakers fan but have only recently started to understand what it means to be a Laker. I’m on the fan dome side, but it’s still about being a Laker.

So what does it mean to be a Laker? Well, before I go there, let me share a bit more about how I came to be someone rooting for your organization.

Having grown up in South Carolina – a state with no major pro sports teams – I can honestly say that I’ve come to be Lakers fan through sheer happenstance. You see, when I was six years old, I lived in Texas so it was easy to become a Dallas Cowboys fan. What six-year-old kid in Texas doesn’t have a favorite football team? When I moved to Greenville, South Carolina, two years later I became a fan of the Atlanta Braves. Why? Because their Double-A baseball team played in Greenville where I even got to see Michael Jordan play a game. I think he struck out.

But my allegiance to the Lakers is different. It’s solely because of one guy: Kobe.

Back when I was growing up in Greenville, I was exposed to high school basketball (as a fan, I never had any game) through my oldest brother Kahron who is now a Spurs fan, but I won’t talk about that. K played at the YMCA where a local kid named Kevin Garnett played. When I was 10, Ray Allen was named Mr. Basketball in South Carolina, and Garnett would’ve won a couple of years later but he transferred to a prep school in Illinois for his senior year before jumping to the pros. Obviously, him jumping to the pros helped to pave the way for Kobe to do the same the following year.

Isn’t it pretty rad that South Carolina produced two future Basketball Hall of Famers; too bad they play for the Celtics, right? Anyway, my point is that I started rooting for Kobe way back when he was a high schooler. Remember when he went to prom with singer Brandy? Yeah, he was something like a LeBron James without the Sports Illustrated cover.

Well, sort of. You see, a lot of people see this polished player today with a killer instinct and a nickname like Black Mamba and they think Kobe was destined for greatness all along. While I think that, and the Lakers certainly thought that, it wasn’t as clear-cut as it has been with LeBron. Kobe was drafted 13^th! Sure, he wasn’t as NBA-ready as LeBron, or even Kevin Durant (who even went to my alma mater, University of Texas, for a single year), but he was drastically underrated coming out of high school. If you re-drafted the last 25 years in the NBA, Kobe gets taken in the top 3 every time. Only Tim Duncan and LeBron James are clear favorites for the #1 spot ahead of Kobe. But that wasn’t the case in 1996. So Kobe started with the kind of chip on his shoulder that my favorite player John Stockton started with (Stockton was drafted 16^th in 1984, as you may remember).

The Charlotte Hornets – a logical team for me to root for, I suppose, from the other Carolina state – drafted Kobe, which seemed prudent for their squad, but I was never a Hornets fan. I was a Kobe fan. So when Mr. West and you guys in the Lakers front office made the trade – Vlade Divac for this 17-year-old string bean shooting guard from Philly with the middle name Bean – I immediately fell in love. Candidly, I rooted for the Jazz pretty hard-core to beat the Bulls because I loved the consistency and work ethic of John Stockton but I saw the writing on the wall; Kobe would soon take the mantle as the NBA icon for reliability and hard work.

I want to give you credit because you seem to have understood this all along. That’s why you got Phil Jackson to harness his early Jordan-like temperament and talent and matched him with Shaquille O’Neal, a guy whose offseason work ethic was often questioned. Kobe was the glue because he had the killer instinct like Jordan and the “I’m the man” streak like Shaq, but needed the massaging of the Zenmeister. I know Mr. West gets much of the credit for that first three-peat, but I know you were there behind the scenes and then proved your worth front-and-center with the back-to-back titles in 2009 and ’10, something even the Spurs have failed to do with Duncan and coach/exec Gregg Popovich.

I want to give you credit because you’ve taken a lot of criticism, but you’ve proven that the decision making authority is in a pretty good place when it’s with you. The Bynum draft, the Gasol trade, the Artest pickup, the Fisher trade, the Paul attempt. I see your work ethic and reliability too. I know us Kobe and Lakers fans can count on you to do what’s right.

Does that mean firing Mike Brown? Maybe, but I trust you. Does that mean trading Gasol and/or Bynum to go after Dwight Howard and/or Deron Williams? Maybe, but I trust you. Does that mean getting more reliable 3-point-shooters at the point guard position than Ramon Sessions and Steve Blake? Maybe, but I trust you. The most important thing is that you harken back to what made the Lakers great when you were playing with Magic and Kareem, or even earlier with Wilt and Elgin Baylor and Mr. Logo, and more recently with Shaq and Kobe and now Kobe. Great players? Yes. You’ve spent your career working with several of them. Great role players? Most definitely. You were one of them. Great Lakers? I only see one of them on the roster today. I understand your decision to cut Derek Fisher, trade Lamar Odom and so on, but I hope you realize that the Lakers didn’t lose because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of Laker-ness.

To be a Laker means to be a winner, first and foremost. To be a winner means never quitting, which we didn’t see Kobe do against the Thunder.

To be a Laker means to coach with a level of passion, creativity and leadership that guys like Pat Riley and Phil Jackson exuded. Does Mike Brown fit that description? I can’t tell.

To be a Laker also means to be entertainingly dominant, which Gasol simply isn’t. To be a Laker means to respect the game and your opponents, which Bynum seems to struggle with.

To be a Laker means to live for the brightest spotlights, which Ramon Sessions seemed fearful of. To be a Laker means to take those gutsy shots and make them as guys like Robert Horry and Rick Fox and Derek Fisher used to do. Steve Blake seems to have the guts, but not the gifts.

To be a Laker means to play with fire, even if you’re a bench guy, which I see in a guy like Jordan Hill and used to see in Shannon Brown before you let him go.

To be a Laker means to know, deep down, that you are the better team, but play the full 48+ minutes to prove it. This Lakers team we’ve seen these last two years seems to not fully grasp that last part. They gave a good show of confidence (who couldn’t with Kobe on the roster), but they didn’t back it up.

Regardless, I’m not really trying to advise you on what should happen with this Lakers team, at least not specific personnel decisions, because you seem to know exactly what to do. Maybe not today or this offseason, but I know you hear the clock on Kobe’s career ticking. He does too. He put in a gutsy performance against the Nuggets with a stomach bug and then the 43-point game, followed by his 42-point; 5-dunk game against the Thunder just to prove he’s not ready to fade away just yet, but it will eventually happen. I give it 2 maybe 3 seasons tops.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it may have been Kobe who converted me into a Lakers fan, but it’s your excellent behind the scenes work that has made it so enjoyable up until these last couple of playoff exits. I trust you to bring the Lakers back to the promised land. Kobe knows he needs you, and so do us fans.

In the utmost admiration and respect,

 

Joah Spearman

Lakers fan since ‘Kobe

This city is the bestest!

And a few things they missed: - 2006, Mohawk opens joining Stubb's as the most powerful one-two punch in the country for live music venues on the same street - 1997 Alamo Drafthouse opens - 2005 UT Football, led by Vince Young, wins college football BCS National Championship

Footwear Obsession

It started with sneakers. [My maid came by so they were all lined up in the bathroom that day.]

Then came the socks!

What Austin Music Fans & Musicians Need to Change

[The views expressed here are my own, and no one else's. I'm the only Joah you know.]

Last December, during our Austin Music Commission meeting, we came to a unanimous decision, and then re-affirmed that decision this past week, that Red River should be designated a Live Music Historic District.

Red River is the heart of Austin’s live music scene today, and, with Mohawk and Stubb’s, represents some of the best our city has to offer in terms of well-established venues for touring musicians. When SXSW rolls around, when out-of-towners come to visit, when friends ask me where to go on a weeknight, I usually point them to Red River.

Of course, there are several key venues in Austin that aren’t on Red River including ACL Live at the Moody Theatre on Second Street, Continental Club on South Congress Avenue, Broken Spoke and Saxon Pub on South Lamar, The Parish on E. Sixth Street, among others. Still, I truly believe that what happens on Red River Street in the coming years with the Waller Creek Development project and its ability to weigh future (residential and day-time) ambitions with present-day (live music and nightlife) uses will be a sign of things to come in our city, good or bad.

But protecting Red River Street and supporting the continued prominence of venues like Mohawk and Stubb’s is only one part of the solution for Austin’s music future. I say solution because we do have problems, and several of them.

Unfortunately, however, not all of these problems can be addressed through my role on the Music Commission. This blog is intended to share my POV on the top 3 things that I’ve observed as things that need to happen to make sure Austin’s live music scene is protected and prosperous for many years to come.

Before I go there, though, please allow me give you a little more context on why I may be qualified to speak on the matter. Sorry, it’s not because I’m a life-long Austinite or because I’m over 40 years old. I’m a 29-year-old who calls both Killeen, Texas, and Greenville, South Carolina, my hometown.

Where to start? Well, I’ve been an Austin music person since before Austin Music People existed. Actually, I think I’ve been an Austin music person even before I was an Austin resident. In high school, while trying to escape the boredom of Killeen, I would take my newly-secured driver’s license and drive to Austin. So, no, I didn’t learn of places like Antone’s, Broken Spoke, Emo’s and Stubb’s from my parents or neighbors, but instead from venturing down I-35 on my own at 17 years old with a fake ID and later while getting my edumacation on at UT.

In the three-plus-years since I’ve been back in Austin, after a post-college stint in D.C., I’ve made it a major priority to further immerse myself into Austin’s live music community. Austin is my first love, and this city’s live music scene is something like a pair of big brown eyes that keeps me hooked. Hell, it may even be sexier than that, but I’ll keep this post PG. So along with being an avid concert- and festival-goer, a friend to countless musicians and DJs and a regular at Waterloo Records, I make a point to do more than the usual fan.

In late 2010, I was appointed by recently re-elected Mayor Pro Temp Sheryl Cole to the Austin Music Commission, and have since been appointed vice chair. Along those lines, I was honored to be the keynote speaker – after Mayor Lee Leffingwell – at this past year’s Austin Music Memorial event honoring the likes of Sims Ellison, whose namesake gives us the SIMS Foundation.

Also, over the past few years, I’ve been writing this book about Austin’s live music scene called Indisputable that is just about done. I’ve been putting the finishing touches on it, and can’t seem to call it quits because the live music scene here is so active that by the time I finish editing a chapter, I need to re-write another one, get new photos, etc. Plus, I know a lot of dirt on a lot of people in the live music community that I debate with myself on whether or not the casual Austin music fan would like to know. I’m only half kidding so watch out people!

I share these credentials because I’m going to say something that may come across to some as critical, cynical, contrite or all three: Austin’s live music scene is in dire need of a reality check.

It’s not just a lack of true business sense with some of the venues being operated in Austin, but a lack of entrepreneurial zeal in a lot of the musicians I see and, even, some piss-poor event planning with a number of live music events in the city. Let’s not name names here, but let’s be clear that these issues don’t just happen in other cities. They happen in the Live Music Capital of the World, too; you can be sure of that.

That being said, here are the top 3 things that need to happen to make sure Austin’s live music scene is protected and prosperous for many years to come:

1. Get out of the city.

Austinites like to pride themselves on the fact that the city is far better, especially when it comes to creative output and tourism benefits, than Dallas, Houston or San Antonio. Well, DUH. And New York City is a bit more interesting than Albany, Buffalo and Syracuse. Please, tell us something we don’t know.

What Austinites – especially music fans and bands – should do is draw the lines further out and think about what needs to happen to be confident about our “Live Music Capital” designation against stronger candidates like Chicago, New Orleans and Seattle. Is it the venues? The types of artists/bands? The fans? Regardless, the answer gets 10x better the more we get outside our little Texas bubble. This is one of the reasons why SXSW is a deceptive festival at times. It gives people the impression that they went to San Francisco or Brooklyn or London without having actually gone anywhere.

More out-of-state exploration will bring back stronger business concepts for things like venues and studios, more innovative musical genres/sub-genres and greater perspective for our artists on what type of hustle and grit it takes to “make it” which is something 9 out of 10 Austin musicians say they don’t need, but desperately desire.

2. Do-It-Yourself needs to become Do-It-Right

Because sometimes DIY mentality is the very thing that kills your creativity by reducing your ability to create! Why? Because you don’t have the time or money to tour or record or write new material; you’re too busy subsidizing your life with a job you couldn’t imagine yourself having in 10 years.

You may think you’re staying true to yourself as a musician or whatever, but what you’re really doing is staying true to that part of you that never has been and never will be. Listen deep down and find that voice screaming for success, willing to fight for some shine and able to push through all the bullshit about “not selling out”. Listen to that voice and say, “shut the f*ck up, I’m going to win this time.” Do you think there are tech entrepreneurs, fashion designers, filmmakers or dancers saying they’re going to “keep it real” and do everything themselves? Hell to the no. They are out there trying to build a team of like-minded people willing and able to push their creativity forward. What about you Mr. or Ms. Austin musician?

Sometimes you have to do it the right way with the traditional parts of the business such as a manager, a booking agent, a publicist, hell, even a label. Not all the time, but sometimes. And if you think you’re going to sell out by doing so, then think about this: you can DIY all the way to the top and, chances are, all you did was leave a lot of money on the table because you were ignoring people well-trained to maximize your talent on your behalf. Why the hell do you think band’s like Spoon have Ben Dickey or people like Tom Windish make a living? Is it because they aren’t needed? Don’t think so.

If you want to be rubbing two nickels together when you’re 40-years-old after 10 or so years of relative Austin-only success then so be it. Just know going in that it’s all on you, your career, your talent, your attitude, your team members, your livelihood, your failure or success. It should only be DIY until you are smart enough to realize you can’t do it all yourself. The sooner you have that realization, the more time you’ll have to do what’s best instead of what seems most appropriate to say to your friends over beers on some back patio at an East Sixth bar.

3. Camaraderie leads to commercialism.

Why don’t many bands out of Austin “break”? Easy, the camaraderie is at an all-time low. I can’t tell you how many friends of mine are musicians that don’t listen to music. I mean they say they do, they go see their friends’ bands play, but they don’t really listen. It’s just a series of “oh yeah…they’re alright” statements one after the other. These people genuinely don’t want someone else to succeed!

Why? Because of fear. Fear that someone else will actually get rewarded for putting in the work and dedication that you’re not willing to put in yourself. No, I’m not a musician. Does that mean I can’t ever “get it”? Maybe. But I’ve had hundreds, literally hundreds, of conversations with friends who are Austin musicians. Not all of them are giving it their all. Most of them are uber talented, uber dedicated to their crafts, but only mildly concerning themselves with the single most important thing to making them successful: understanding people.

Unlike other creative industries, musicians don’t seem to get the people part of the business the way people in film or tech or art do. Yeah, we all know it’s all about who you know. No, you’re wrong. It’s about who knows you. And it’s not enough for them to know you from that band that one time at that one venue. Or from that friend who’s a friend of a friend who said you were good. That isn’t enough.

You have to touch people, connect with people, keep in contact with people. You have to do this constantly, consistently and comfortably. I know that may be hard for some of these creative types who aren’t exactly consistent, and damn sure aren’t pros at a) being comfortable with others or b) making others feel comfortable, but it’s a requirement.

As you can see, it’s not all about the venues. It’s not all about the business. It’s about people. At the root of this scene here in Austin are three types of people: Austin music fans, Austin musicians and people who want to be in one of those two groups.

It’s simple math, really: if you are a fan, you get to know more musicians and convince non-fan, non-musicians to become fans. If you are a musician, you get good fans to do what I just said fans should be doing.

There is no DIY in this city. There are just people trying to do it with others, and people convincing themselves they don’t need anyone after all. Austin’s live music scene needs to root out that second bunch because they’re killing this city one musician, one band, one venue, and one fan at a time.

Friday Jam: Chrissy Murderbot