Author Archive

10/16/2022

Sunday, October 16th, 2022

I’m blogging…OUTSIDE. The weather here has been bearable, even though snow is scheduled for Tuesday. I’m sitting in this chair outside the Honors College that has “fuck you” faintly carved into one of the armrests. There’s a name also craved underneath, but it’s too hard to make out. An extremely yellow leaf just blew off the tree a few feet away from me and smacked me in the face. It’s quite a rainbow looking at all the nature around here. They don’t call it Tree City for no reason, unless they decide to make everything Esplanade flat and perfectly mowed and boring.

Taylor Hall is a glance away. I was sitting on Blanket Hill facing the old victory bell a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t concentrate on blogging just sitting on the ground. Quite a few people have been walking by looking at the unfinished memorial and the May 4 informational signs today. It’s pretty much always older people, no matter which side of Taylor you’re facing.

I think about that a lot, and the more I see how this campus functions, the more I feel that urge to enact some change. Things feel frozen in time here, and to be frank, it’s not in a good way. The weather might be okay for a cardigan, but I feel like too many people here are frozen in ice cube trays of apathy and acceptance. When people are encouraged to take action, they rarely do. On a general level, depending on the world view of whoever you’re asking, the only way to make change is to either vote for someone who doesn’t truly represent you or risk your life marching in the street and relying on buzzwords. They rarely tell you that there’s room for sneaky introverts in that process. And that sneaky, introverted work, the subversive work, the work that fits my style the most, is often the hardest.

Hell, half of the time the people who are rallying the most for change seem dismissive of the prospect of change actually occurring. There’s an exhibition of letterpress prints in Taylor right now, and some of them are truly amazing. There’s something so satisfying about a good letterpress design, with the jumbled remixed letters and strong colors. There’s just nothing better. But when I was walking through the exhibit the other day, one of the posters on display, frankly, made me angry. It was very post-Roe hopeless. All the text was about how women have the “freedom” to die of an ectopic pregnancy and be incubators and the like, topped off by the declaration, “so much freedom!” Like I’m going to let anyone tell me what I can do with my body. You make change by just not letting people do nefarious things to you. Or, alternatively, you make it by letting yourself do the things that you know are the best, even if they are unpopular. Both of these types of defiance can be very hard, especially the last one, and neither get you many political brownie points. You get those points by beginning and ending at complaining. That changes nothing. Speaking, writing, creating art and music, holding events, educating others, proving other people wrong is how you change things. You have to show that you own them when they try to own you.

With this in mind, no matter how hard it is to accomplish, I’m really hoping to skew the ratio.

Tuesday, October 4th, 2022

Kent State’s bible thumpers are really leveling up their pamphlet game. A whole little book! That takes some amount of coin. And crazy.

As evidenced by this morning, their battle plan can also be best described as “divide and conquer.” And boy, did they conquer.

I had heard from some not-so-religious friends that they were handing them out by the MAC center, so I had to see what they were up to. Two of them were in front of the aforementioned building while another one was further closer to the Student Center.

I saw the former two chatting with each other in the moment right before the one closest to where I was walking reached out to me with a book, so I can only assume they were noting which one would be responsible for helping save my bleach-blonde soul.

After a brief stop in the Student Center, I took a semi-sneaky way around the Move The Gym annex in an attempt to avoid them on my way back to my dorm.

Ran into another one. A kid in a hoodie was seemingly denying his offer, but my iPod was turned up too loud to make out any discussion. I walked by as quickly and silently as I could.

In search of food, I was hoping the Design Innovation Hub would be a safe haven from campus creeps. Nope.

ANOTHER one of ‘em, brown suit and all, right in front of the main entrance with two others hanging out on the esplanade in the distance. Luckily the brown suit guy was too distracted trying to turn over some other chicks and I slipped by. He was still there when I took the long way out after my coffee and Rice Krispies.

We really do need a secular club on campus.

DEVOtion, Day Two

Tuesday, September 27th, 2022

And then the nerds re-congregated, and DEVOtional Saturday happened.

And what a de-evolved time it was.

The Jimmy Psycho Experiment, who have been DEVOtional openers for a few years now, set a relaxed mood well with their tiki-loungey versions of everyone’s favorite DEVO hits. Attention soon shifted towards the many special guests, whose Q&A sessions took up a good chunk of the night. Good old Mark was back for round 2, though he was slightly more subdued when compared to his misdemeanor on Friday. DEVOtional old timer Jerry Casale, who almost always comes out to support the fans, brought with him the music video premier of his next single, “The Invisible Man.” Without spoiling too much for everyone who wasn’t there, it was hands-down one of the most amusing things I’ve ever witnessed, and it only makes me more fascinated about what exactly goes on within Jerry’s mind that could make him conjure up something so perfectly, undeniably wack. But you’ll all see it in a few months.

Steve Bartek, the guitarist on Jerry’s recent music who is best known for his work with Oingo Boingo, joined Jerry in looking very smart and answering questions. I didn’t get to talk with him at all, but he seemed like a really genuine guy. The dark horse of the program, however, was one Michael Schwartz, better known as Rod Rooter, DEVO’s evil manager from way back. Throughout the night, Mike seamlessly incorporated his character into his talk-talk to the point where I initially genuinely wasn’t sure if he was joking or not when he discussed being the first white guy on King Records with a song produced by James Brown. (Spoiler alert: he WASN’T).

Sometime before DEVOtional started, Max had the brilliant idea of making Rod an entire election campaign which proceeded to snowball from a joke to people on Facebook actually buying made-to-order polo shirts emblazoned with the phrase “America’s Begging For The Barrel Room.” The virus had spread so far that Max didn’t even have to give Mark one of the campaign buttons he was handing out; he had already been given one by someone else. With Mike’s charisma and wit, I wouldn’t hesitate to vote in his favor, and I can’t help but hope he becomes a mainstay. (“The Man” did approve of Max’s effort, by the way.)

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Max signed one of his posters for him while I stood by, causing him to ask Max in character, “Is THIS your GIRLFRIEND?” Max would go on to be very fixated on the fact that Mike was a few hours early to the punch on that.

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Jerry, Mark, and the rest were signing items for hours. I heard someone say their autograph session clocked in at over three hours, which blows my mind and makes me want to pray atheist style for their dominant wrists. Max used the opportunity to gift Mark and Jerry bags containing some of his original music and hand decorated lab coats, with airbrush art for Marky and colorful tampons for Jer-Jer, while I stood by as photojournalist and emotional support.

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(Jerry sadly didn’t try it on for us in person, but the photo he uploaded later more than makes up for that.)

I wasn’t immune to the photo opportunities, either.

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All the while, Al Mothersbaugh’s band, Massive Hotdog Recall, brought the party as usual, proving that “Shout” can be a good song if you add some non-synthetic, whip-spankin’ horns to it. New Devolution, an energetic tribute band who came all the way from Chile to perform, followed by plowing through high-power early 80s DEVO tracks. The fun factor was through the roof as the spontaneously generated giant helium balls the crowd was serving around threatened to make a dent in it.

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After the raffle, which I did not win anything at, the highly anticipated Fight Milk, who were not balls, took the stage. They exemplified the fun factor just like last year, but having more than one guy on the stage again (while retaining last year’s cardboard cutouts) totally elevated their energy. Alongside Jackson, the band’s creative mastermind and sole constant, it was great having Tavi from Finland back onstage, whether he was flashing a creepy smile at the audience with down pitched vocals or scurrying around the stage wrecking his guitar strings. Those boys be DEVO.

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Max was also making his live performance debut, and he absolutely killed it. Not many other DEVOtional performances would both perform a song that hadn’t been performed since 1974 and make the live debut of Jerry’s latest single. (TAKE THAT, OLD MAN! Just kiddin’.) Max took lead on both, and it was so great seeing him in his element. It truly wouldn’t have been the same without him up there in that goddamn tampon coat hurling his Rod Rooter buttons at the crowd. I even caught a photo of one in mid air! I love blinding everyone with the flash from my camera.

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Detention finished off the night, though I sadly didn’t get to see most of their set because, deja vu, I was too busy having a conversation in the Ballroom’s bar the room over. (I got to hear their Steve-tribute cover of Oingo Boingo’s “Little Girls” in muffled format, though!) At least I did get to chat with their singer Elliott, who I’ve bumped into a few times on the Kent campus, beforehand. Us Kent chicks gotta stick together.

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And then, just like that, the night had winded down. Everyone packed up, stumbled out of the ballroom, and hit up Ubers back to their hotels. And then it was over.

Did it beat last year’s for me? No. That year was too special! But I’ll gladly let it be the first loser.

And hey, I got a boyfriend out of this one, so I guess that’s a plus.

DEVOtion, Day One

Sunday, September 25th, 2022

DEVOTIONAL. I called it “a bunch of nerds in a room” last year, and I stand by my previous classification of this excruciatingly nerdy event. Keep it wack, Cleveland.

But indulging in nerdy activities also allows one to see some impressive musical acts, engage in fascinating conversation, and see friends old and new that you’ve been waiting the whole year to get all in their faces calling them what they are: “NERRRRDS.” In short, it’s one of the most weekends of the year.

Fridays at DEVOtional are usually held in the tavern of the Beachland Ballroom, yet so many tickets sold this year that they had to move it to the main room. It was truly surreal. Yet it worked like a charm, and if anything, it just extends the excitement of Saturday, so if it’s what we gotta do to get all those nerds in that goddamn room, I’m good with it.

A good pal of mine, Malcolm Tent, truly opened this year’s installation with a set of “unwanted DEVO songs.” He’d been advertising it on Facebook for at least a week leading up to the event, and it definitely lived up to the hype. While I expected an acoustic set from the times he’s previously played DEVOtional, he instead unleashed a slew of mind-crushing electronic loops straight out of the rubber factory as he gestured the lyrics to “I Desire” like twisted spoken word. David Kendrick, who drummed for DEVO, frankly obliterated the skins for the last half of the set as Malcolm shredded his yowling electric guitar with a loose drumstick. It was beautiful, and dare I say it was the best set of the weekend. But we’ll get to Fight Milk in a bit.

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Malcolm was also the one who recruited me to create the art for the back of an album exclusive to this DEVOtional, DEVOted. It’s an intentionally bootleggy compilation of live tracks from past years, and it’s pretty damn DEVO all around. I’m proud of how my back cover turned out, and I’m glad I was able to lend a hand.

The BIG news was this year’s most esteemed first-time attendee, Mark Mothersbaugh himself. I remember the state of disbelief I was in when I saw his name on the DEVOtional flyer when it was first made public. Just about everyone who has ever gone to a DEVOtional had been going back and forth about Mark’s not being there for years, and he finally decided to give it a shot. There he was on Friday night, taking videos of bands on his phone and excitedly talking with his loyal followers. When I reminded him that I fake-punched him in New York last May by waving my fist at him, he took my wrist and yanked it at his chin and made me actually sock him. I could actually feel it in my fingers for a few minutes afterwards. During one of the bands I looked across the room and saw him take a giant bite out of the sleeve someone’s copy of oh, no! it’s DEVO. After the weekend was over I got to see photos on Facebook of him with other people’s phones in his mouth. He. Got. CRUUUUUNK. And it was glorious.

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Max got to nerd out to him about Mark’s brother Jim’s old school electronic drum kit from the seventies, and Mark filmed him doing it, so that footage exists on Mark’s phone. Ah, technology.

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Very serious.

The Akronauts, who mixed energetic DEVO covers with originals, followed Malcolm. They brought the fun and the funky basslines. Poopy Necroponde, who turned my brain inside out last year, followed, though this year they probably got closer to blowing my ears out! I’m glad my ears got the break they deserved after this weekend, especially from Morgan PC’s hardcore de-vo squelches and voiceboxes! Both bands really bought the fashion, with white jumpsuits and neon blue berets respectively. The latter’s bass player remains one of the coolest women in existence with her stage presence alone.

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I completely missed Weird Paul Petroskey’s closing set, which I’d been highly anticipating, because I was too busy having a conversation with an old school University of Akron alum outside, so I bought some of Paul’s CDs to make up for it. That was a reoccurring theme of the weekend: missing things because I was too busy being engaged in gripping talk with cool elders.

For such a shakeup, it ran smoothly as ever. Every act was energized to the max, and there was really was plenty of great conversation to have, whether it was with old friends, new friends, or Mark Mothersbaugh hopped up on Bloody Marys. It was a pretty damn great prelude to the jam packed Saturday that followed.

Also, look at how cute we are!

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Kent Let It Go

Sunday, September 25th, 2022

In the past week, I became the subject of numerous jokes about how I was going to need four blog entries for that past weekend alone—it later multiplied to six—because of all the events that got jam-packed into three and a half weary, weary days. Three days that contained my personal favorite nerd gathering, the DEVOtional, and would go on to comprise possibly the most roller coaster-like weekend of my life thus far.

Welp, after over a week, here it comes.

The aforementioned weekend really kicked off on Thursday (though I had a class the next morning). The members of DEVOtional veteran act Fight Milk, having come in early for rehearsals, found time in their schedule to come down to good ol’ Kent State so I could show them around.

I’ve been seeing Fight Milk at DEVOtional since 2019, and it’s been wild seeing them morph and mutate into what they are now. Not only do they always bring the most extreme amounts of fun, they also really get what DEVO is all about in a way. They are dedicated, and they respect what those old fogies were doing while still maintaining a Gen Z flair. Add that all three of their performers this year were coming from such long distances—lone constant Jackson from Seattle, Tavi from Finland, and Max from San Diego—and it only felt fitting that they should get to see where DEVO all began.

The first up important locale was Governance Chambers, the site of both the “Jocko Homo” music video and DEVO’s second ever show, in the Student Center. Luckily, one of its sets of doors was unlocked and no one was in there, so we slipped in without even a whimper from anyone actually working in the building. URBAN EXPLORATION! It was a great joy seeing the guys be such nerds in there, ESPECIALLY Max, the guy who, you know, covered the entirety of that second show.

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They also did some obligatory Mark Mothersbaugh poses:

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Before heading into town, I got to show them the site of the shootings on May 4, 1970, which DEVO’s bassist witnessed and credits with being the catalyst of the band. You would figure that the place where DEVO was born, and a place so historical at that, would be at least somewhat noteworthy for people to visit when they’re coming up for the DEVOtional every year. At least we got to do our part.

It was a solemn experience walking down to the victory bell on the commons and looking down on the Taylor Hall parking lot from the perspective of the National Guardsmen who killed four and wounded nine that day. But it was a worthwhile and important one, and all three also enjoyed the visitors center inside Taylor Hall as well, with all its artifacts providing context.

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Here they were looking for coin offerings that matched up with 1970 at I believe Allison’s parking space.
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We also stalked through McGilvrey Hall, which has some May 4 related displays on its first floor and is generally an incredible time capsule of the mid century in terms of its hallways. We peeked into the auditorium in Cartwright Hall, where DEVO have performed—there was a recital going on!—as well.

After some aimless wandering, we headed down the esplanade into town, got handed some Get Out Of Hell Free cards by some old dude, and made our way towards Water Street, which contains a row of buildings that can be seen in the video for “Secret Agent Man.” More nerd behavior ensued.

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When that was all said and done, our next goal was sustenance. Taco Tontos was on the menu. On our way down, we ended up running into a poster for DEVOtional, the whole reason these three nerds were here in the first place. We still don’t know the culprit.

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We would then discuss all the secrets of the group’s set list while Tavi ate the best burrito he’d had in his life. Actually, we all ended up getting burritos. What weirdos. How deviant from the norm. Another important lesson realized by these friends: Taco Tontos never disappoints.

We made our way back to the campus one last time so the guys could get an Uber and rest up for Friday’s activities.

It was an absolute blast showing the guys around, and it felt like a natural way to kick off the weekend. For me, it was definitely more than satisfying getting to see Kent State finally get some acknowledgment—especially from some talented nerds who have been finding themselves on the forefront of…whatever this modern battleground is. After all, you can’t go forward without knowing your history.

Or an empty stomach.

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Thursday, September 22nd, 2022

Walking through campus with a warm cup of coffee in my hands listening to Sleater-Kinney on my iPod getting to wear my jacket for the first time here because it’s my first ever windy fall-like day on campus felt pretty RAD.

DEVO weekend report coming when my two writing assignments that are actually getting me a grade get wrapped up.

Out Here

Tuesday, August 30th, 2022

I’ve been away from the homestead for over a week now adjusting to the trials and tribulations of college. I must admit, it’s a very liberating feeling being left to my own devices, mentally mapping out routes to dining halls and wandering around campus when I have free time. I’m already getting a lay of the land pretty easily, and I can’t believe I’ll be showing some out of state (and in one case, out of country) friends around this not-so-little old place in just a few weeks. (Seriously, DEVOtional cannot come quickly enough.) Maybe someday younger students here will be asking me for their way around, intimidated by the many routes of getting to Eastway or unable to not keep dropping their school issued ID cards. For now, I’ve been socializing with other members of my class who are in the same boat as me, though they happen to have friends from high school lingering in the area. I’ll always be an introvert, but talking to these brand new people has been strangely refreshing recently. It’s a nice, liberating feeling being a blank slate to a whole bunch of people who, like me, are also baby faced, weird, and anxious as hell.

Even as I make connections in the real world, I’m still checking my frequented sites and social media accounts. I expected I would do less of that as I transitioned into college life, but in retrospect I feel like I’ve been going through a mental transition regarding my time on the computer all along. Ever since I began making progress towards even attending Kent in the first place, I’ve been taking the digital world less and less seriously, and I didn’t even take it too seriously to begin with. Now I look at people getting into comment section flame wars sometimes and just feel a little bit sad. I feel sad that these people, apparently, have nothing better to do than insulting people on the internet for fleeting moments of manufactured superiority. They could be learning new things, opening their minds to new experiences, and actually engaging in the real world, but they aren’t. It’s frustrating sometimes, because it feels as if so much potential is being wasted on useless, stupid arguments when the participants could have been doing something more productive in the first place. (Hey, if me being a student makes me a vital part of the conscience of America, I gotta put my honest opinion out there.)

My year-long honors English course is centered around the theme of disenfranchisement, the act of being made into an outsider. But sometimes, strangely enough, I like to feel like an outsider. I like to look at inane arguments and know that I have no place there, that there’s something much better to be doing than fighting fire with fire. I’m learning that the type of fire that actually needs to be fought can be fought with words, expression, logic, truth. I’m really grateful to have the chance to hone these skills.

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2022

“When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you.”

Five days here and the dining hall’s choice of music already makes me want to vomit.

Cope

Sunday, August 14th, 2022

I’m leaving for college Friday. All the finishing touches are being put on my departure, and the gravity is only now truly setting in. It’s overwhelming to think about sometimes. Not really terrifying, just overwhelming. Overwhelming in the way that thinking too much about something makes you feel, until you think too much some more and realize the workload is totally tolerable. It’s kind of annoying.

The Melvins have been the soundtrack to this pre-collegiate angst ever since I saw them over a month ago, and I assume they’ll still be there to help me through my post-pre-collegiate angst. Looking back, that show feels like it was the equivalent of stumbling into a church only to encounter a fire-and-brimstone preacher’s most imposing sermon and becoming a hardcore Christian on the spot out of fear and awe. To put it lightly, I’m hooked. It’s simple, really: I like things that go against things I don’t like, the list of which includes genre trappings, banality, the lack of a sense of humor, hypersensitivity, and stupidity. All of these things are incredibly overbearing, which makes it all the more satisfying to find a driving force of subversive defiance to those norms. Like the Melvins.

Looking at groups like DEVO and the Melvins feels like looking at a beacon calling forth all the boys and girls who are fed up with straight society and crave more than what it gives. Call me a moth to a flame, then—a calculated moth to a calculated flame, that is. I’m a freethinker, and I’m not into pledging blind allegiance. Following things mindlessly sets people up for failure. I say follow things that make you think. The Melvins make you think because one’s brain is constantly trying to decipher what the hell King Buzzo is singing whenever you listen to ‘em. Or sometimes I’ll find myself listening to a song (sometimes by the Melvins, sometimes by someone else) and questioning how their label let them release it in the first place or how it is even permitted to exist. Who green lights “Skin Horse”? Who? Seriously. This is no diss; I love that song. But on every listen, the perfection of its warped, tragic, alienating strain of insanity seems too good to be true. But it is true, and it’s concrete, and it feels very special to see.

Looking at the big picture, I don’t think that yesterday’s and today’s…what’s a good term…creative terrorists get the credit they deserve for their sheer bravery. Thanks to efforts like theirs, people like me get to hear things that tap into a very vital, rare, primal vein that satisfies many good, weird criteria. People are more pent up and frustrated than ever. And the things many of these people have always wanted to express but were too scared to, might just get belted into microphones by punk rock priests at sold out shows. Things like this encourage me to keep on marching. I wouldn’t be setting up for the real world with confidence without taking those influences with me.

Jump On Japoney Appoe

Wednesday, August 10th, 2022

I bought a DVD of the first season of Wonder Showzen a few months back, and I’m finally getting around to watching season two on archive.org. The show uses the schtick of a kitschy kid’s show—crude animation, puppets, smart mouthed children—to make mincemeat out of every touchy subject imaginable. The result is a show that is capable of offending everyone on earth. And sometimes that even includes me!

A few clips of it have apparently gone viral in recent times (Bush was still in office when it was originally on the air) because people just can’t tell if the show’s brutal satire is for real or not. I think there is something very powerful about something like that, something that continues to make people uncomfortable. It forces people to confront the true nature of the problems they would rather not think about, the things that even the most gung ho social commentators on all sides of the political spectrum would rather sweep under the rug. In a world where polite ignorance is more socially acceptable than actually dealing with deeply rooted problems, Wonder Showzen tackles those problems and their absurdities all at once with a shuffle and a wink at the camera. That’s what I like about it.

It’s also just really amusing seeing rando New Yorkers get egregiously pissed off at a blue hand puppet asking them stupid questions.