Showing posts from September 16, 2012

Puma Passion

Matthew Golia Branch Manager 514 Bridgeport Ave  Shelton, CT 06484 Dear Puma, My name is Matthew Golia and I have been a fan of your product line since 1995 when I was a young boy playing basketball in your Puma Super Baskets Mid in Navy Blue. At the age of 15, with my peers gracing the court with Pump Action sneakers, Air Bubbled souls, and mounds of leather, plastic and suede weighing them down, I graced the hardwood, sans sock, with my foot and ankle wrapped in an Ace Bandage sporting my Pumas; I felt as if I was harkening back to the days of the mid 1900's, when an Athlete's style sprung from their moves made on the court, which in turn brought attention to their feet, not the other way around. It is that minimalist, yet timeless style that I feel has helped Puma to endure, while cultivating a mass following with unique takes on the color palette, turning heads with it's brimming style. As I have grown into adulthood, shifting further from da


With these words I ignite fires, recited to majesties and sires by jesters in their courts required to incite riots, their humor, anger thwarts tends to smolder funeral pires But its my desire to perspire, in this lyrical attire like a top hat, and my pumas the statics hectic now sinking in the mire I shock like I'm electric stammer like I'm wired, perpetually inspired like a groove that requires, a little hi hat but no driver by the likes of the mainliners that shoot through my desires like blood coursing through the veins of the those that sit higher floods forcing their stream through the levies and the bayous but my label is not dated and I will never expire. this Philosophical misfit, gets mis-fit, and mis-hits attempts a quick fix he uses bandaids on liquid, like insider trading for stock tips, he gets dismissed as a lyrical conniption fit, unfit for this gig, is mis-judged and blows his lid bliss follows en suite and leads to him quitting his e


DC(ARE)U KIDDING ME! by  mgolia6 , June 09, 2012 12:16 pm       Opening day for sports fans pales in comparison to any organized religion. So for those of us that covet Phish's music with the intensity equivalent to sacrilege, Tour Opener couples the excitement of gorging after a long and spiritually cleansing fast, with the pit of the stomach excitement of the Christmas Day!             My mind's cogs and sprockets, wound to precision, become a proving ground, and I lurk these battle grounds for memories of past tour openers. I hold the Island Tour Opener as the first of life stand of shows, and while I try to not compare 1.0 with it's ladder day brethren, I will employ the same Logic that helped me "wrassle" my way through a Philosophy Degree: use similar data to compare (so that your thesis can be summed up in less than 100 pages)             Bethel Woods set the stage for a weekend of improvisation that, we thought, would be a new beginnin


BETHEL WOODS: PRE-APOCALYPTIC GAMEHENDGE by  mgolia6 , June 15, 2012 12:42 pm       It wasn't until Memorial day of 2011 that I first encountered Bethel Woods. Built on the historic original site of Woodstock, I was introduced to this venue as the opening run of Phish Shows 2011. One week before the shows I scored a room at a bed and breakfast, the Lazy Pond, in nearby Liberty NY. This review begins with the back roads winding entrance to the back side of the venue, veering through the roads of Upstate New York that fell in love with during college many years ago.             As this was a three show run, and allowed us to really settle into our temporary home, we revelled in the beauty of the campus the bed and breakfast was built upon. Strolling around the multi layered facility, we interacted with other fans, fraught with anticipation of Phish's opening run for the summer 2011.             Arriving at the back entrance of the venue, we were forced to tra


SKIN IT BACK, AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE, A WARM GUN... by  mgolia6 , July 03, 2012 9:52 pm       Phish began their east coast return in style and much of what is conjured of Little Feat is that gritty primal urging instinct to something that feels wrong yet so right. (Heroin comes to mind, or just the act of shooting up- sorry for the buzz kill) But when Happiness dropped, presenting the same theme as Kin it Back, just in a completely different platform, I was all smiles. I had to skin back (yup, i went there) my expectations after what seemed like, and was a four minute Tube, hoping, like the Halleys that dropped later, we were in for a loop session and start stop jamming that lingers on the forefront of my mind as soon as the opening lyrics of that song are sent hurling from the stage. But with Trey working off effects alla Camden 2009, that jaded sound that lulls one in and makes them feel invincible and vulnerable all at once, we were certainly in for a fully formed ent


JONES'N FOR THE FUNKY BITCH by  mgolia6 , July 03, 2012 11:55 pm       I wasn't surprised when I got to JB, all wide eyed and mind staring at the phallic symbol that rises from the atlantic coast. Beyond the second lots rising dune, and brush, Shakedown blossoms with gnarly characters that, in my day to day life, I would most likely reject, like myself, from my own store front sure that they would "shake me down" for the keys to my chalice! Quite the adventurer, I wandered to the female dominated port-o-let, line where I was met by hostility. Boys can do it outside according to these female centerpieces. Cordially I wandered to the ocean, intent on baptizing myself with the Atlantic's sperm laden rip curl. Mass bulk chronicles of the ocean's capturings, having risen from the murky depths, flooded the shore, and page's key work could do nothing to keep them from blogging the scene with their tweets, face book status changes, my space update


THE BAND WHO STEPPED INTO YESTERDAY...AND BEYOND by  mgolia6 , July 04, 2012 11:29 pm       Tonight, honestly, I wasn't sure what was going a good way! My girlfriend and I had two songs apiece we allowed ourselves as wanting to hear at JB. (we haven't done the SPAC choices yet) and mine were Tube and Alumni. I don't know what it is about the song, maybe the connection to school (pretty sure Trey exclaimed in muted fashion "...from Goddard!") So when I thought my sun-burned viasge would need to sideline himself for most of this show, having expended more energy from my body the evening before, then in the last few weeks, and meandered the boardwalk of Long Beach, then sizzling under the mid day sun for the afternoon, and my dancing legs showed up again, I knew this evening would be special.              Let me preface, yours truly did not bring cash to Long Beach, walked the boardwalk from its beginning, to the Alegra Hotel, whose ATM was o


JONES BEACH VIP by  mgolia6 , July 04, 2012 11:51 pm       My girlfriend and I got in to the show on the 3rd early, so there was no line in that congested culling of attendees that first night, just smooth sailing, and ease of use entrance going. So after peeling ourselves away from the bed of our Pick Up Truck Tour vehicle, complete with beach chairs, roller cooler, and a cool 10 knot southerly wind, we meandered the lot, climbed the sky bridge, deftly tackled the port-o-lets (females still angry at the male usage) and approached the Bovine-like culling of humans into a gated threshold we needed to avoid.              This is where the VIP tent tickets ($50) comes into play. We asked a laniard adorned woman what our tickets could do prior to getting into the Venue and she points to the VIP overhanging walkway over to the left of the venue, away from the herding of cattle into frisking lines. We sauntered on over to the smiling crew of worker, wished them a happy quatr


PRESSURE COOKER by  mgolia6 , July 07, 2012 12:15 pm       JIm started off with that old school feel, and while the jam that ensues mid way, typically type one, didn't sprout much past that, Ocelot took that type one jam and extended it with that bluesy saunter that this song exudes bellowing through the amphitheater, or Sonic Sauna, as it were last evening. The heat was turned up once Tube dropped, and thinking, after JB I that I wasn't gonna here this song again, until maybe Dick's, I was thrilled. the groove started early, and with Trey bending those notes into a growl, the band hooked into a four minded onslaught that immediately catapulted into Psycho Killer. With flashbacks of Hartford 09, I knew that this was special, and that the night was early. Bringing the song to fruition and letting it drip into the ether, Tube cam back swiftly, and the band really growled this one out to it's close.              Set one fire continued to burn through the o


MSG'S FACE LIFT...AND THEN SOME! by  mgolia6 , August 26, 2012 7:23 am       (Disclaimer, it does turn into a venue review...I promise!)       I woke up one december...and I realized I loved you! My growing suspicions rumbled to a boil, spilling their froth from the still teetering lid of the cauldron that is MSG, on their way, dousing the jerseys and banners with their wicked slippery paws. Simple words, easy to utter; I am addicted. My name is Matthew and I am addicted to Phish. Who else feels this way; a massive wave of quiet abounds and I am left pantsed and alone in a crowd (with my 13 year old naked legs; pant legs crumbled like Obi Wan on the floor!)              Night one was captured via my pen, moleskin notepad, and two rapidly fading thirty year old orbs of visual sensory; made new by curved lenses and forged plastic and metal-an archaic jerry rig if you ask me.              1. The pen captures the set list. It's ink globules trickle fro


DICK'S NIGHT TWO: I THINK I'M STILL ME by  mgolia6 , September 02, 2012 11:19 am       I don't know where to begin...Many say that you cannot yearn for the past, as you get caught up in it, missing what is right in front of you; myself, like many Phish fans argue the merits, accolades, precision, quality, etc...of "past" vs "present" Phish, even when there isn't an audience. I certainly think about 1.0 Phish and, just like one's mind, unable to quiet a rousing, tangential string of thoughts, I certainly think about past Phish, when about to experience "New Phish".              My point is: it's all that past experience, both myself, the bands, on and off stage, the mixture of music and zaniness, excitement, spontaneity, that has allowed this band to get where they are now (where I an now)and that place is somewhere between elysium and hades.              Antelope errupts from it's low volume first notes, and as


DICK’S SPORTING GOOD SPORTS COMPLEX by  mgolia6 , September 04, 2012 11:37 am       The Short: Spectacular Plane Ride, Wondrous Views, Fantastic Arena, The Band’s Atomic Grooves!              _____________________________________________              The Long:       (I am going to tell it like it is, cause that’s how it should be; it should, I say, because, who wants the run around…I’ll give it like an arrow straight to the bull’s-eye of the matter at hand: Dick’s is the greatest venue ever! )              I know, I know, you are thinking, “Greatest Ever??” Surely some of that hippie crack has seeped from it’s metallic canister’s twisted valve, and surely been inhaled by yours truly…nope, not the case. I present to you an argument, or a rationalization, or just my perception of this reality. So here goes.              First, the flight in; (of course you have to be coming from a place of much lesser altitude to appreciate this POV) it's phenomenal. As you burst thr
PHISHING THROUGH IOWA by  mgolia6 , June 07, 2012 11:15 am       Half way between the West and The East, trucking towards Erie, Phish is only a breath or two away and we might not make it!              I yearn for words to be formulated, calculus style, as a formation of thought an jargon into brief moments of genius, let these formations, much like the universe itself, still plague those trying to understand it's birth, it's construction, it's meaning. These words mumble from his mouth, at 75 miles per hour, drafting a Semi, down route 80, or 90…god knows where we are right now. Words like springingly; the delightful verbosity of the under achieved, and sleep deprived. Yakima; as in Ah, Yakima, (within it's use, the realization as the second word comes from the mouth, of it's inherent connection to the first!) These gifts brought forth by over indulgence, and under the influence of caffeine, and solely caffeine, are the gems of our trip, of this ot
HIGHWAY TO HELL by  mgolia6 , June 09, 2012 10:44 am       Whether you chase jams, a specific song, that butterfly feeling of anticipation that surges through your entire body as you here that two tone "bah-dup" of the ticket scanner; whether it is Page Side, rear of stage behind Fish, crammed to the rail and afraid to even think about anything remotely close to your bladder! All these things have one key ingredient: A ticket. This is what I didn't have.              Couple all this with an extremely vulnerable feeling of running out of time, a google map estimate of 4 hours and 46 minutes (which does not take into consideration the northern bottle neck of the Gardent State, and the odds are not in my favor. But let's not get ahead of ourselves...              Hartford's escapades, full on emersion into the greener pastures of GameHendge, planted the seed. What, on paper seemed very straightforward was certainly lacked the real world equivalents e