Microstory 923: Manchester Orchestra and Others

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When I was in eighth grade, I found one of my sister’s CDs, and decided it to play it. It was a band called The Offspring, and they immediately became my favorite. Not long after, my birthday came up, and I was surprised by two tickets for a concert, which included Fenix TX, and Sum 41 as openers. I didn’t like them, because they were taking up time I felt I should have used to hear the music I came for. I later warmed up to Sum 41, but I never listened to that other one. As you might have ascertained, this was my first rock concert. My father went with me, presumably to protect me, which I need. I was a tiny little thing with undiagnosed autism, and I don’t think I would have been able to handle the mosh pit. And I think that because I only lasted long enough to hear one song from The Offspring before I couldn’t take any more of the jostling. The bouncer—who was really cool, and gave me a bottle of water, and a genuine Offspring guitar pick—lifted us both over the barrier, and let us walk around to the back to finish the show. I loved it, though I wish I had learned more the songs. I’m not sure in what capacity Napster existed back then, but we almost certainly didn’t have it yet. Acquiring music was a difficult process that required thought. And money. Flash forward six or seven years, and The Offspring are toppled as my favorite in an upset by contender Muse. They only lasted for a few years before a stray tweet led me to this Vancouver-based group called Mother Mother. I even spent about $800 on a trip to a film festival in the middle of nowhere Ontario to see them live. I wasn’t meant to spend that much, but the cheaper rental car company required a credit card, which I did not have, because I only ever buy things when I have the money for it in my account. Seriously, I once owned a car, and even though I made payments, I could have technically bought the whole thing in cash. Anyway, jump once more to 2017 when my radio station introduces me to Manchester Orchestra, which changed my favorite band list for a third time. I guess liking bands with the letters “M” and “O” is just my M.O. I do like lots other music, too. Here’s a quick list (in no particular order): Imagine Dragons, ABBA, Eminem, Vanessa Hudgens, AWOLNATION, Carla Sendino, Alt-J, Caroline Rose (even her country-rock album), Joywave, Selena Gomez, Misterwives, Brie Larson, Dredg, and almost any disco. My tastes are pretty eclectic, and I still love all my former favorites. I wonder whether there will be a fifth favorite, and what that is.

Microstory 58: New Car Smell

My car is two years older than I am.  The most advanced thing in it is the radio. Despite having been manufactured in 1985, it only had 40,000 miles on it when I bought it a couple years back. The woman who owned it before had other vehicles, and didn’t drive it much. I have some errands to run after work, and my last stop is at a client’s house. I park it on the street but don’t even turn it off since I’m just dropping off some papers. A moment later, I step back into my car and notice something different. There’s a tape deck and a CD player. As I look closer, I notice an auxiliary port, power windows, and cup holders. I haven’t had cup holders since college when I drove my dad’s old truck. My first thought is that it’s a prank, but it would be logistically impossible to pull off. Even though this strange new vehicle is clean of dust and grime, the fast food trash, my books, and other such things are all in the exact same places as before. Even the towel I keep draped over the passenger seat hasn’t budged. My defroster stopped working a few weeks after buying it, so I use the towel to wipe off the inside of the windshield when it’s raining. I start the car, and find that the defroster now does work. I step back out and look at the exterior. It looks like a slightly newer model, but the bird droppings and tree sap on the hood are still there. I take out my phone and do some research. I find one theory that says reality is fluctuating all the time but that we just don’t reme