Writing Ahead Hemingway said, “write until you come to a place where you still have your juice and know what will happen next.” While I’ve always taken this advice when I write I often wonder how these words apply, if at all, to real life.
Hail Mary Don’t ever ask yourself the question: how will I survive after college? The fit of terror, anxiety, and depression that follows won’t do you any favors. Monday night, I lay in bed, wondering how the hell I was going to pay the rent
Capitol Rating: 2 out of 5 stars Paul McCartney is back with his 17th solo studio album, Egypt Station. The album does nothing groundbreaking for McCartney’s career. Instead, Egypt Station is one that could fit seamlessly into any point in his 62-year-long musical career.
Dissonance For the last two days, I’ve woken up to the sounds of hammers, nail guns, and steel-toed boots in my ceiling. The roofers come early and go hard on the roof of my apartment building. I live on the top floor and can’t help
Today I drove through the Rockies’ game-day traffic. I was barely able to merge—twice; once on I-25 and again on Sixth Avenue. I attribute the recent influx in traffic to the legalization of pot. I’m not blaming weed directly, but the recent population growth has
DIY house shows are alive and kicking Ye Olde Elk Lodge is an old Victorian house located in the Baker district where local DIY concerts sometimes take shape. On Aug. 26, the Lodge hosted out-of-state friends Salty, headed for the coast on their first interstate
Cynthia had just shown me the bathroom, and then regaled me with the ethical details of her booking gig. From what I can tell, she books about three or four shows a month. As she goes on, I glance over at my boyfriend who
I stand on the dance floor at Ophelia’s, watching the people around me—mostly guys in hip clothes trolling for girls in hip clothes and everyone bobbing to the beat. On stage a guy called Panda Say What is playing. He and my friends, who go
Is it a song or just guitar feedback? The Berlin Aliens performed to an almost empty venue on Monday night at the Ogden Theatre. The band who got their start in their friend Jordan’s garage-turned-studio in Littleton, took the stage of a venue that isn’t
I’m listening to “Astral Weeks” by Van Morrison because Lester Bangs told me to. As of four months ago (April 30th 1982), it has been 35 years since Lester died of a tantalizing yet incredibly foolish mixture of dextropropoxyphene (cough medicine), diazepam (Valium), and NyQuil.