Arena rock no more...

Sonja and I spent a most enjoyable evening together on Tuesday. We traveled down to Boston, as I'd bought us a pair of tickets to see Colin Meloy, frontman for The Decemberists, on his solo tour as a big thank-you for being so patient with me during the thesis-writing process. The past few months have been semi date-free and I was trying to make up for it.

Previously:
S - "Can we go on a date and spend quality time together in a time symbolic of our eternal and undying connection?"
M - "Aieeee! I have 20 more pages due and I haven't started yet! I need to lock myself in, duct tape myself to a chair, stop showering, shun all human contact and subsist on popcorn and beer until I get this done."
(repeat every weekend for four months)

May it be known that, not once, did Sonja complain about me ignoring her. She rocks. I suck.

Anyways, Meloy is out on tour and promoting a new solo album while the band takes a break in between its last tour and next release. The show in Boston was at the Somerville Theater, which is a terrific venue. It's small without being crowded, atmospheric without being contrived and old without being smelly. They also serve beer for $5, so they've got that going for them, too.

It was a terrific concert. I always go into solo shows wondering if the artist can pull it off without a band to interact with, but Meloy is a consummate performer. Any worries I had were laid to rest after the first song when he held the following banter with the audience:

"Freebird!" screamed some annoying high schooler who no doubt has never heard that song in her life.
"Sorry, not going to play Freebird," replied a wry Meloy. "You see, I'm a charter member of MACOF - Musicians Against the Calling Out of Freebird... Incidentally, there's also a committee in MACOF that promotes the writing of more songs about gypsies, which I chair."

The whole night was like that - Meloy playing songs, joking with the crowd and interrupting his own train of thought to tell stories or recall forgotten words/chords to songs. Hands down, it was a blast - particularly his performances of "Perfect Crime" and "Shankill Butchers." It was a low-key, intimate and fun concert.

The show highlighted a realization that I've been coming to for a while now. I don't know if it's out of snobbery or that I'm getting old (or a combination of the two), but I can't do arena shows anymore. I'm just not into getting sweaty with big crowds, being a mile away from the stage, waiting in line for hours to get in and paying hundreds of dollars for tickets the way I used to be. That's ceased to be fun.

In the past five years, I can only think of one, maybe two, bands that I would see again in an arena. The first is Tool, because it's a band that needs to be seen to be fully appreciated and they put an enormous amount effort into putting on a show and not just a concert. The other band would be U2, just for the experience - but the amount of annoying people there and the prohibitive cost of tickets probably would discount me from every seeing them again.

The other bands I've seen in arenas over that span include Death Cab for Cutie (one of my favorites, but I am never, ever going to see them in a place that holds more than 800), Franz Ferdinand (you can't dance in bleachers), Stone Temple Pilots (uh, don't ask), P.O.D. (again, don't ask), the Darkness, Dashboard Confessional (from days as a 15-year-old girl), Incubus (several times - it was a phase), Wilco (awesome group), Kings of Leon (opened for U2 and were terrific, but no one cared because it was a 40,000-seat arena), the Flaming Lips (great performance, but again, not an arena band) and Justin Timberlake (eeeeeeeeeeek! Justin! marry me!).

Live music is meant to be soaked in and appreciated. At its best, it's a deep emotional connection and a touching experience that feels as if it's potentially life-altering (Although, it's not, but for an evening, you think it might be). It's hard to sense that, however, if the periphery of your mind and senses are being bombarded by a huge crowd and an echoing venue. In thinking back to the 15 best live performances I've seen, only two were in arenas (the aforementioned U2 and Paul McCartney playing 95% Beatles songs for 3 hours).

So, unless something huge rolls around, I think I'm calling off all future arena shows. If the venue is bigger than 1,000 people, I'm not going - unless it's a festival, and then I may reconsider.

I want the intimacy. I want the lead guitarist to sweat on me. I want to have the bar and the stage no more than 15 feet from me at all times. Is that too much to ask? I don't think it is.

Going to China with a banjo on my knee...

Okay, so with less than four months to go before the Olympic flame is lit in Beijing (assuming protesters aren't able to steal/extinguish/smother/light bowls from it) it's time to start talking China.

Notice I say China and not Chinese. My Mandarin is woeful at this point, but I have learned how to ask for food, the toilet and tell a taxi driver he's an idiot, so I've got that going for me.

The big news is... well, I'm going.

I know I posted about this before, but there actually was no final confirmation from BOCOG until a couple weeks ago. However, we've received the go-ahead and their processing our visas now.

(Excuse me while I do a huge fist-pump and rip off my shirt, FIFA-style.)

This blog's going to China! Fo' realsies.

Along with receiving my "yes-you're-coming-and-we-realize-we've-told-you-that-before" final invitation, I also now know where I'm going to be stationed...

*drum roll*

The National Stadium - more commonly known as The Birds' Nest (See above: It looks like a nest).

In addition hosting all of the track & field events, the Nest also will be the home of the Opening and Closing ceremonies. I've received some communication that seems to indicate that possibly I could be invited to potentially watch one or both of those events (ie: believe it when it happens). While, I'm not getting excited about being able to streak across the field wearing naught but an American flag when the U.S. team marches in, it could happen. And that rocks.

My role as a member of the Olympic News Service will be at the bottom rung of the ladder - Flash Quotes Reporter. It'll be my job to interview the athletes after their events, grab a few sound bites, write them down and send them to the central office. Not a glamorous job by any means, but I really could care less about that. I'll get to be practically on the sidelines at the Games, that's what counts.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Now that I know it's happening for real, I don't know what to think really. Guess it's time for another fist pump...

*FIST PUMP*

Googlegängers (your umlauted word of the day)

I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but this article in last Thursday's Times spurred me to do it.

We've all Google-stalked someone. Don't deny it. You've plugged the name of a friend (or enemy) into a search engine, hit enter and clicked through the first few pages of search returns. It's kind of fun, kind of creepy and a common occurrence in today's wired world.

Have you ever plugged your own name in to see what turns up? If so, you've undoubtedly stumbled upon one or more of your Googlegängers - people with the same name that pop up in a search engine query.

The Times article was about the psychological reasons behind why we feel drawn to folks of our same name. There are Facebook groups out there for people with like names and more than one author has written a book or article about setting out to find others with identical monikers. It's more than a passing fascination with some.

For me, however, it provides more annoyance than camaraderie. Why? Because of my massive ego, of course.

Ha, no I'm kidding. Well sort of... Let's talk about my Googlegängers.

I am proud to at least be featured twice on the front page of Google when you search for "Mike Nagel." One is for my Facebook page and the other is for this blog, which is exciting, since I've only been running this page for nine months or so. I don't think it's too bad, overall: I'm at positions 7 and 8, respectively.

Here's the thing... it doesn't really seem like anyone relevant is above me. The top overall hit is a press release announcing Michael P. Nagel as VP of Sales and Marketing for some company called Incisive Surgery, Inc. Then, in 2nd place, there's another presser for a different Mike Nagel.

Finally, on the third hit, we get a Mike Nagel of some importance. Here's his Flickr site. He's a amateur photographer from Munich, Germany and seems like a nice guy. His shots are pretty cool, too. I guess I'm not too upset about falling behind him. Especially since he's had his page up since '05.

The other miscellaneous entries are for some randoms with ZoomInfo and LinkedIn entries that aren't updated. Bollocks! I should be further up, Google!

I know the main way to increase your Google page rank is to be linked to from a bunch of other sites, so thanks to everyone who's linking to me, I appreciate it. Eventually, I'll be the world's greatest Mike Nagel, at least in the eyes of the almighty Google.

However, here's the most annoying thing about having Googlegängers - registering domain names. I'm looking to start my own website, either tying this blog to it or just setting it up as a professional-looking site that I can use to help further my career. However, both mikenagel.com and michaelnagel.com are taken.

mikenagel.com is occupied by someone who bought the domain name, linked it to a blog and then just left it. How obnoxious! I'd actually use it... If you read this, other Mike Nagel, I want that site.

michaelnagel.com is just disturbing. It's the homepage for a German actor who looks like he's trying to break into Hollywood. Judging by his physique and D-list level of international appearances, he appears destined to occupy a recurring role on a low-level network soap, at best. If that's my alternate online personality, I'm a little frightened.

Oh well, guess I'll have to either change my name or think up a more creative domain name once I start setting up my site. Any suggestions?

How about you guys? Anything fun come up when you google yourself?

LOTD...

If you check out my sidebar, I've added a bunch of new stuff.

First off, you can post blogs you like on your Facebook, Digg or del.ico.us accounts. So, that's pretty fun. I'm new at that game, so if you have any questions... ask someone else.

I've also added a few new blogs. Definitely check out LB's page here. She's a deep thinker, great writer, terrific artist and one heckuva dancer and she'll give you a daily dose of cultural commentary and feminist philosophy. Oh, and she's one of the smartest and funnest people I know. Enjoy!

Mike is like a steak...

...in that, he's well done.

That's right. I just turned in my thesis yesterday. 122 pages of earth-shattering, paradigm-shifting, bowel-quaking brilliance. And, once I reformat it to meet the department's requirements, my brilliance will probably stretch to 140 pages or so (Yes, it's spread thin).

WHEW.

Talk about a sigh of relief. I feel like I'm tasting freedom. I feel liberated. I feel like the world is my oyster, if only I would reach out and shuck it-shuck it long and shuck it hard. So, what am I doing in my first thesis-free day in four months?

Sitting in my chair, drinking a beer, watching TV out of the corner of my eye and writing to you guys. Yes, I know how to live life to the fullest. Rock 'n roll, bay-bee!

It's all good. Truth be told, I once again missed writing here, especially since my page views and comments are up (Thank you, friends, family and Internet stalkers). My new discover, courtship and long-term commitment to Twitter hasn't dissuaded me from posting posts of 140+ characters. However, when you're swilling coffee, banging at a keyboard until your fingertips bleed and questioning everything you've done for the past three years, you don't have much time for weblogging, you know?

But I'm back and it's for good. Or for now, at least.

There's a lot going on in my life right now and, of course, I feel like I need to share it online, so I'll get back to doing that. Upcoming posts can/may/will be on the following topics:

- a book deal
- new music for me to illegally share
- Banana slings
- Beijing, baby
- Mike's next blossoming career as a viral video star
- faking death to avoid school loan payments
- the Red Sox
- the worrisome feeling that I may be allergic to my apartment. Or my body hair.
- softball season starting up
- flip-flops
- Brazilian waxes

Who's excited? I'm excited. How 'bout yourself?

In the words of the immortal Jay-Z:
"When I come back like Jordan / wearing the four-five / It's not to play games with you / It's to aim at you"

BostonNow...

This is going to be quick, since I have class in a few. Right now, anything that's not a Tweet is on hold, in terms of blogging, until I finish my thesis. It's due on April 9th, but I'm hoping to have put a wrap on it after this Friday (since I have a 1/2 marathon to run and other writing to do this weekend).

I'll let you know how that lofty goal goes.

But, I was featured in last week's BostonNow. It is not, as you might assume, because of the awesomeness of my blog or because I pitched them an article. No, it's because I was in a bar at 1p.m. in the afternoon and one of their reporters interviewed me about college drunkeness. Go figure.

The link to the pdf is here. I'm on page 10 or something (first quote in the story).

Where Mike's At...

If anyone's around Southern NH this weekend, I'll be attending the Hooligans in a Darkened Theater production of Reservoir Dogs.

Apparently, it's the first time it's ever been staged (at least to the knowledge of one unnamed show member who gets to play a dead body on stage for 60 minutes). And it may be the last, since, they didn't get the rights to the script from Tarantino.

So, shhhh... don't tell anybody. I'm keeping it a secret. Which is why I posted it here. No one reads this anyway, right?

Shows are at 7 and 10pm on Friday and Saturday. There's no entry fee (they wouldn't dream of making money off of pirated material, but I bet they'd catch a few dollars if you balled up a wad of cash and threw it at them).