Welcome to the second edition of Content Nausea. Last week, I wrote about Vampire Weekend. There is more Vampire Weekend in this week’s edition, but I promise every edition won’t be about Vampire Weekend. It’s mostly about birthdays, and this edition is long because it is time-sensitive. If you are still not sure what this is, here is the welcome post. Enjoy your stay. If someone wants to design a logo that should be 256×256, and have a transparent background for the little icon in the browser tab, please let me know.
Quinn threw me a surprise party last week for my 27th birthday, and I guess the operative word here is surprise. It worked. It took a confluence of things to really make it work. For once, I didn’t care what I was doing and was amenable to any suggestion. For once, I didn’t really pay attention in the Uber ride on where we were going and mentally critique the driver. And for once, I just let myself be unaware of what was happening.
It was a weird change of pace. There’s probably a larger significance in there in terms of how I engage with the outside world, but it’s almost 11 p.m. and I’m watching the Trail Blazers trying to hold on (for once) against the Warriors. I am reading Jenny Odell’s new book, How To Do Nothing, and maybe that will shed some light on matters down the road.
But the party was at Everybody Hits, the local DIY/BYOB batting cages, and it was there that I re-discovered a holy grail from my youth:
I can’t remember which age group this bat was most desirable in, but it feels like it was more than one. At 31 inches, 19 ounces with a narrow barrel, it was so easy to whip through the zone. The gold just added some extra mystique to it. But it was the bat you wanted in your hands in a big spot.
I hadn’t been in batting cages in eight years before last Saturday, and that time was just taking whacks at softball. I forgot what it felt like, so of course I stepped in against 70 mph pitches. Eventually, I got it dialed back to 40 or 50 mph, and that’s when the solid contact happened.
There are few feelings like it. Based on how my hands felt Sunday and Monday, it didn’t happen enough. But when the barrel of the bat connects with the ball and nothing happens, it’s bliss. It didn’t happen enough during my rec career, either, but there is one time that stands out.
It was the Bel Air Rec 11-12 playoffs, and our game had been halted in a tie because of rain a couple days earlier. So my team, the Blue Jays — this was during their heinous 2000s rebrand, so we had the weird silver hats — finished our game in the afternoon, and if we won, we would immediately start another game. We didn’t even have enough players to field a team, so we had only two outfielders, and one of them was someone’s friend named Spencer.
I don’t even remember what the score was. But I came up to bat with the bases loaded, and we were down by three runs. In some versions in my memory, it was 18-15 or 19-16. I was an overly patient hitter — my on-base percentage in my last year of baseball ever was .556, and I walked three times in my final game — but I swung at the first pitch, and I felt nothing. The ball sailed over the center fielder’s head, and I ended up on second with a three-run double to tie the game. The next batter after me swung at the first pitch he saw, and he whiffed.
We lost the game. There was a weird play at the end where Spencer, the random kid playing left field, made a diving catch with a runner on third. The runner was too far down the line, so he had to come back to third to tag. Spencer’s throw to me at third sailed into the bleachers, and we lost. I ended up with the ball and flipped it to my coach before going to the handshake line. That was one of the high points of my baseball career, and I played in the All-Star Game a couple weeks later. I don’t remember anything from that game.
But what I do remember is making that solid contact. There are few feelings like it.
A list of my birthday celebrations over the past decade or so
2019: See above
2018: Bowling; dinner at a Mexican restaurant in West Philly
2017: Shaky Knees Musical Festival in Atlanta (we saw Cloud Nothings twice that weekend)
2016: Buffalo for Anna’s graduation; dinner at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que was involved
2015: Lunch at Busboys and Poets with the Boys; covered a high school baseball game; went to The Crown
2014: Orioles game in Baltimore; went to Bentley’s
2013: Finished my media law final; went to Cornerstone in College Park
2012: Stood outside Prince George’s Hall for a couple hours after midnight with Reese and Mikey; took a poetry final; won Beach House tickets; ate Jason’s Deli and Chipotle
2011: Went to Subterranean A and wandered around D.C. with Emily; possibly took another final; stole alcohol from my roommate’s closet; watched The Big Lebowski; listened to David Comes to Life by Fucked Up a couple times
2010: Recorded two covers that are still on YouTube somewhere; senior field day; the last Antler Blood show; parking lot dance party behind the Bel Air Armory
2009: Went to dinner at P.F. Chang’s; saw The Shins at Rams Head
2008: Ran a then-PR 2:29 800 in the 4x8 at championships; worked on a chemistry lab all night
2007: ??? [Potentially working on an AP Human Geography assignment?]
A list of sentences from Ezra Koenig’s Wikipedia page
(Credit to Siegs for pointing out the absurdity of this to me.)
Ezra began writing music around the age of ten, and his first song ever was titled “Bad Birthday Party”.
After graduating he taught English through Teach for America at Junior High School 258 in Brooklyn, New York.
Students recalled Koenig bringing his guitar with him to class.
In 2004, Koenig formed the rap band, L'Homme Run, notable for the comedic track, “Pizza Party”, with Andrew Kalaidjian and fellow Vampire Weekend band member Chris Tomson, played saxophone for the indie rock band Dirty Projectors and worked as an intern for The Walkmen.
In the film, Ezra portrayed the protagonist, Walcott, a man hell-bent on escaping Cape Cod as he believed vampires were coming.
The two immediately bonded over Radiohead at a party during freshman year and vowed to start a band one day.
Rounding out the group was Chris Baio, Koenig's suite-mate in his sophomore year, and they shared a love of Destiny's Child.
Each episode is two-hours in length, during that time, Koenig and company discuss relevant news topics, respond to obscure listener emails regarding 1970s rock music, explore the current terrain of U.S. politics, as well as frequently analyzing the history of corporate snack foods.
Additionally that year, he appeared on the HBO drama series Girls.
Koenig is also a self-confessed fan of bands such as The Grateful Dead and Sublime, who he believes largely influenced his musical taste.
Some things I wrote
If Ryan Bates’ 12-year-old self saw him now, he would say, “Holy shit.”
T.J. Edwards was good at Wisconsin but not good enough to get drafted, apparently, but he says he’s fine it worked out this way.
There are four Penn State rookies on the Eagles roster right now. It’s unique seeing familiar faces in this type of situation.
A casual 1,600 words on a Sunday afternoon about the Eagles defensive ends after Chris Long announced his retirement.
Something on a quarterback who isn’t Carson Wentz.
Some other things I read or listened to or watched or thought about
One of my main birthday wishes was for Jake Layman to get playoff minutes for the Portland Trail Blazers against the Golden State Warriors in the Western Conference Finals. He did, but it was because the Blazers blew a lead and lost. Sorry.
Speaking of the Blazers, this Deadspin piece is an enlightening look at the Jail Blazers era, which I obviously did not understand the context of when I was younger. My main exposure to the Blazers was a couple games a season at my grandmother’s in rural Oregon. There are some not good things about Portland.
Damian Lillard just missed a layup that would have won the game and staved off elimination for the Blazers. It’s overtime. Nic Batum went off in a losing effort in the last Blazers game I watched with my grandmother in 2012.
Another Deadspin piece from Drew Magary on, uh, almost dying.
The 052k19 playlist is coming along nicely. (I don’t know why I put the EMA song on there, but whatever).
A pleasant ESPN piece that finds a new angle on Steph Curry.
Literary journalism is a little difficult to look back on now.
“Too Much” and “Happy Not Knowing” are two of the greatest Carly Rae Jepsen songs.
I started to read two books this week: How To Do Nothing by Jenny Odell & Impossible Owls by Brian Phillips. The early returns are good. I am still slogging through Season Ticket, a New Yorker baseball anthology by Roger Angell. It is good, but it is long.
P.S. If you have a New Yorker login, please feel free to float it my way.
“UFOs” by Drawing Boards is my favorite warm weather song of the season so far.
And ending on a dark note: The New York Times on a newspaper battle in New Orleans.
Thank you for reading the second edition of Content Nausea. Please tell me if there are any typos and what you liked about this. It will get better.
I was feeling nostalgic for the days when
My thoughts dripped onto my head from the ceiling
I remember the feeling of the muse-less existence
Of the drunk, bored and listless
Endless waiting for something that I knew wasn't coming
—D.G.