the torch is lit
I'm giving up an indierock forum for Lent this year (or maybe forever, who can tell?) My problem is that Mason & I are passionate about music in which none of our friends are interested. So when I look for a peer group, I have to take what's available. It's…not been a positive experience. There are some nice, funny, smart people but it's the Internet. You know what that means.
This week we've been squabbling over the press release for the new BSS album, specifically whether or not Lisa Lobsinger "deserves" to be on it. There's been a lot of Caps Lock and insults and patronizing in the space of arguing, and I figure I'm through before I get really mad. We've been given this wonderful art, and all we can do is squabble over it. It's a feast of infinite variety, and I don't want to be in the position of defending the cook's choice to serve lamb rather than veal. Can't we just go back to feeling superior to everyone else rather than each other?
I mean, I'm starting to resent Emily Haines, simply because my antagonists worship her, and I don't want to be maneuvered into that space. "It's not the band I hate, it's their fans."
Speaking of peer groups…
Friday was not only the opening of the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics, it was also the Return of The Knitting Olympics! Four years ago, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee had a dream. It was a dream of excellence. It was a dream of community. It was a dream of going full-out and committing ourselves to a massive undertaking that most people would not recognize, understand or care about.
And, like many improbable ideas hatched in that marvelous head, it caught on. I was not a part of the first KO, though I watched it from afar. When the first one convened, I was barely a year into the craft. I had never been at a knitting circle, let alone a pub full of nutty crafters. I was pretty sure that Stephanie was far too famous and talented to really want to include everyone in the call. So I watched. It wasn't until the month after, when a regular pub night had been established, that I jumped in and never looked back.
This Friday, then, was not only the return of the Knitting Olympics, it was several people's anniversary. And it was the actual Olympics, so there was a lot of energy bouncing around. I have never had so much fun watching a sporting event, and it had nothing to do with the one beer I allowed myself. We stood for the anthem, but did not put down the needles. We heckled Bryan Adams and Wayne Gretzky mercilessly. We cheered for countries we liked, and sometimes at random because we liked their outfits. We were overwhelmed by the beauty of kd lang singing Leonard Cohen. And we howled with derision as the cauldron lighting turned into an epic fail.
The only thing missing was a t-shirt. I want a t-shirt, organizers. Don't make me ruin an undershirt with a laundry marker.
And my final note on peer groups: I seem to have become a Nerdfighter, or rather, I finally have a name for what I've been all along.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*