Thursday, November 02, 2006

Thirty-three and a third

Somewhere around now, I am thirty-three and a third years old. I originally wanted to have a party to celebrate this fact, maybe a vinyl-themed costume party (due to Halloween proximity) or something along those lines, a joint production with my good friend Ian, who was born the day after I was.

Young'uns may be interested to learn that 33 1/3 was the standard speed of revolution for record albums back in the day.

Ian said recently that he thought I got the idea from our mutual friend (and former map of july drummer) Kerry. I don't know if this means he had a party like this, or maybe talked about it once or something. I honestly can't recall anything along those lines coming from him. Due respect to Kerry, but I'm pretty sure I got the idea from a George Harrison album, released at this point in his life, with the same title as this post.

We eventually scrapped the party idea when we realized that between us, we didn't know enough people to populate a party. It's doubtful we could have come up with even 33 people. Plus Ian is back in school and has a lot going on right now.

I continue to spin slowly through life. Feels like I've only lived an EP so far, but I hope that I'm still somewhere in the middle of side one of a bona-fide, long-playing album: one with a whole bunch of good tracks left. And that you can expect similar posts on my 45th and 78th birthdays, when I'll undoubtedly be single and quite old-fashioned, respectively.

4 comments:

Fred said...

I'll be right here, in the same chair,same job, when you are 78, reading your one millionth post, listening to the scratchiness of your words, your sense of humor warped from being in the attic too damned long.

Anonymous said...

Hey Hey!

Happy 33 1/3!

I doubt you got the idea from me, but its' true that I was planning most of my life to celebrate 33 1/3 , 45 and 78. It was unfortunately interupted by a serious illness in the family and a sort of emergency trip to Russia. Priorities is Priorities. In fact in all that I totally forgot about it. I suppose that's actually a good sign and I'm not as much of a lost cause as I sometimes think I am.

Now, as 45 is just plain old 45 without having done anything special for 33 1/3 (and likewise for 78 - although 78 stands pretty tall on it's own) I'm forced to consider settling for 44.1. Maybe I'll try to throw a party for just $2.00 or ask for gifts costing $2.00.

Such is my life, warm analog quality out the window and digital compromise around every corner.

Of course we still have hope of going really old school and celebrating 120, 125, 144, 160, 170 and 180, the speeds of good ol' wax cylinders.

While I'm enough of a geek to know... I'm nevertheless unsure of when to celebrate based on the 24 inches per second of a wire recording.

One of my students by the way, asked me the other day if the song she picked for her project might be a bad idea because she's found "that guys of my generation don't like Blood Sweat and Tears". She really wasn't trying to insult me, it's just that she "learned in a job she worked that - you know - guys who sell guitars don't like Blood Sweat and Tears"... She's a strange one.

And a Happy 33 1/3 to Ian too if he's tuning in here...

Haps

the moon topples said...

OK, Kerry: I'm confused.

What's the deal with Blood, Sweat and Tears? Are they a bigger deal for you that I thought? Because the last time I checked, guys (and girls) of most generations don't exactly go apeshit for that particular band.

Plus, you're not much older than me, so you were maybe just born when they were big. So how would slamming Blood, Sweat and Tears be insulting you?

My big hope for my 45 is the inevitability that I will be single when it occurs. Single, and a single. That way I can overlook missing the 33 1/3.

So you still have some time left to get a divorce, if you want that birthday to mean anything at all. Your call, really.

Anonymous said...

Hey Hey!

I can barely remember what BS&T did...

I just found it bizzare that this girl basically had this generalization in her head that guys my age hate Blood Sweat and Tears, and that we were also associated with selling guitars.

And if you're single at 45... then you've got a plan. Me? I'm sticking with my singularly amazing wife, who I just left at the airport, on her way to one of her month long business trips to Moscow. Oy...

Hey... Have you read Jen Trynin's book? I almost picked it up for you the other night...

Haps