The Promised Monster II: The Landing in the Summer

Before I get into the second part of this post I need to address something. Last night after I published the first part I was looking at some older entries of mine and I noticed that there were comments from other human beings at the end of the last two ones I wrote. This was a shock to me because I never realized that this feature even exsisted, plus it was proof (though not much) that people outside of my house read this thing. The comments can be read by all, but I think you can only make comments if you have a blog on blogspot.com. Now don't get the wrong idea that I'm going to start expecting that you people leave comments. Since you people can't count on me to give you material, it wouldn't be fair if I looked to you for some feedback. There is a comment worth mentioning, though, which was after the one about the NBA Draft, by someone called M. Bell. M. Bell, for those who don't know, is obviously Martin Bell, a friend of mine originally through my roommates from college. They knew him since high school and they invited me into their fantasy baseball and football leagues with him and we've gotten to know each other better partially because of the wonders of fantasy sports. Martin was at the Draft with us and is one of the original, trailblazing core who started going in the first place. In the mix of the post I forgot to mention him by name, but I'm making up for it now by giving you a link to his blog, MBonline. I read a wholelotta his site last night and I must say that it's hilarious (not a shock) and informative (also not a shock) with the added fact that it's updated every day (lousy non-slacker/guy-who-cares-about-his-readers), thus making it worthy of your eyes. So check it out if you know how to operate links and can read.

Now, onto the second part.

PART TWO: Philco

June 23rd of this very year was a day that Brother and I were looking forward to (and this time, not just because it was a Thursday) for a couple of months. For not only did we have tickets to the My Morning Jacket/Wilco concert at night, but we also had tickets to the Phillies/Mets game that afternoon. These Phillies tickets were special ones too because they were in the Hall of Fame Club section of Citizen's Bank Park, where you could only afford season tickets if you own a yacht , a PSP, or a super car of the future. Somehow a friend of my dad's got tickets and the two of us met him and my dad there for afternoon baseball in the shade (which is so very key if your whiteness can blind others). Anyway, you can only even hope to go inside this Club (which is the level right above the field level) if you have a ticket. It's been a dream of mine to go inside just to see the wall that is made entirely of baseballs, and really for nothing else at all. Well, let me tell you, the Ball Wall lived up to my expectations, and is now officially the greatest wall of all-time in my eyes, moving just ever-so-slightly ahead of Berlin. Drumroll:


The Ball Wall is not as blurry in real life. 

Also while in the Hall of Fame Club, Brother ran into Hall of Famers, Mike Schmidt, Robin Roberts, a deceased Richie Ashburn (wow, science!), and Steve Carlton, all who moved so fast that I was barely able to get them in frame:


Once again, Brother left his giant autograph halo at home. Awkward. 

After the game ended with a Phillies loss, Brother and I headed off for the concert down at Penn's Landing, which is the perfect summer concert venue (take that, Tweeter Center!). We got there pretty early and met up with three of Brother's Fordham friends who made the trip. Shortly after, one of the top five concerts I've ever attended began with a slightly trimmed My Morning Jacket:


This is the clearest picture you'll see in this post. 


"Drink Aspen Edge!" 


The drummer may or may not have a face. I'm still not sure. 

After a rockin', shredtastic set, Wilco came out and killed consistently for nearly two hours. Since it was pretty dark for most of their set, the pictures are blurry because I was afraid to use the flash. As a result, the colored lighting is really cool, even though the band is blurry. In my opinion, the colors and the blurriness in the following pictures represents the music itself because just like you can't see the air, or wind, you can't see music, you can only see it being performed. It might not make sense for you people, but these pictures capture the essence of the awesome music that was played, at least for me. Wow, deep.

First, two clear ones:


This picture is here to give you a sense of what the band actually looks like. 


In this final clear picture, Jeff Tweedy pauses to show the audience how to play a C chord. 

and the rest:


So good you won't ever know. 


Take off you band-aid cause I don't believe in touchdowns. 


I'd like to thank you all for nothin', nothin', nothin', . . . 


Maybe all I need is a shot in the arm 


Jesus don't cry . . .  


Spinning out webs of deductions and melodies on a private beach in Michigan. 

Good times. Good times indeed.

Well this concludes Part Two of this monster. Look for Part Three on the annual Phillies Photo Day coming sometime this evening after I get my hair cut. I don't know exactly how many parts I'll have, but I guarantee that by the time I leave tomorrow afternoon I'll be all done. So stay tuned, you know, if you want.

To be continued . . . . . !