Mary Jean Wall

Go Back to Rockville

Rockville, Maryland is a lot of fun, despite the song from REM.  There is a very lively social scene here, with lots of arts and leisure attractions for visitors and for locals alike.  For lovely  hotels, Rockville certainly has plenty to keep every discerning taste satisfied and rather pleased.  It’s a place where the sweet life is possible, and vacations here help you to remember all of the important things that the world has to offer.  For fans of the group from Athens, Georgia, however, it’s an interesting way to find out more about the song.
Don’t Go Back to Rockville is an REM song by Michael Mills, who was one of the four founding members of the band.  He grew up in Macon, and met the rest of them in Athen’s Georgia, the place where it all came together.  They were each attending the University there, and before they could graduate, they had formed one of the most influential bands in recent history.  The rest of that story is a fairly sweet one.  The song, however, is based on Mills’ relationship with a girl, and her parents lived in Rockville.  All of the references, then, are ostensibly about the song.
It needs to be remembered, however, that this is REM, after all, and this was the only group at the time that could absorb and reflect the same hipness it was giving out.  Irony and exaggeration, not to mention simple abstract babble, is a part of their songwriting aesthetic, and it’s not just Michael Stipe who can write a confusing lyric that has multiple meanings.  Mills proves himself just as adept here, and even though the overall arc of the song is a plain story of love gone wrong, there are lots of side twists and turns that move it from sweet to deliciously bitter.

Drummer Returns Home to Washington

Jeremy had played the drums for as long as he could remember. He also wanted to play in a rock band for about the same length of time. When he was just three years old he remembered being allowed to sit at his uncle’s throne, which is what the stool that drummers sit on is called, and take a whack with his uncle’s sticks. Jeremy swears he can remember this experience though his family has told him that it is virtually impossible for him to do so. The one detail that he uses to prove his memory is that he fell off the throne and into the high hat cymbal while he was trying to get to the foot pedal for the floor bass drum. Of course his relatives claim that he must have heard this story while growing up and has incorporated it into his memory. Jeremy however, claims with no uncertainty that he actually remembers the incident.

He thought about that day and the many times it has been brought up in various circumstances through the years as he looked through the glass window of the American Music store in Seattle. He was home for the weekend and wanted to visit the same store he bought his first real kit in. It was raining but he tried to look in at the drums. He decided he needed a new pair of sticks and walked it. Memories came flooding back to him of the first band he joined coming here for his first drums.

Jeremy had spent the last two years in Southern California studying music at the University of San Diego. He walked back to his parents house and passed the old row of buildings and the charming luxury hotel Washington that he passed many times while growing up and thought about all of the guests that would one day be staying there to see him perform. Jeremy loved his hometown and was happy to be there. He also found himself in an interesting transition from the dreams of youth to the realities of life. In that moment he was happy with both.

Biking it in Capetown

I thought long and hard about purchasing a motorbike here in Cape Town, but the reality of it is that I don’t think it will clear customs until next week. There was a public holiday the other day, and the Customs officers have just come off a 2 week strike. So, I eight sit and wait in Cape Town for another week or hire a car or a bike. The latter option, I think is the best one, cause I didn’t come to South Africa to sit in a car. I have a friend here who has a friend the owns a  bike rental business, BMW‘s, which will cost me 1000 rands a day, approximately $200 U.S., so, with with a bit of negotiating, mentioning we have a mutual friend, and treating the owner to one of the best Capetown restaurants, I got an F650 for only 550 rand and I’ll be picking her up tomorrow morning.

I’ll take the bike on a day trip up the coastline to meet up with Rob, the 3rd rider tomorrow morning. Then, the next day, ride along the southern route on the rental, so when my motorbike clears customs, we can head north to Namibia on the motorway. This will take us a full day of solid riding, and hopefully, I won’t pull a Robbie (crash a brand new R 1200 GS rental) as the excess is $2500. At least if I do crash it, I have another one waiting for me at customs. So, all is good.

The next morning, I pulled into Jeff’s (2nd rider) shed with my 600 ks on the BMW rental. We took off and boy did I make that bike work. Mountain passes, traffic jams, shingle roads, unimaginable conditioned roads and motorways. At times, I could’nt stop laughing, the ride was unbelievable. I listened to U2 and Metallica blasting in my Ipod.

Good news! The bike is in Capetown and the shipping agent has already done a pre-customs clearance. Bad news! The bike is sitting in the middle of the bay waiting to be unloaded. Could take a whole other week. Glad I got the great deal on the BMW. Cape Town is a very cool town, but seen enough of it, so I really need my bike riding.