Germy

Rush fans are now ruling the world -- just like nerds now repay school yard bullies with pinkslips and downsizing, Rush fans take solace in the fact that they're still enjoying real music being made and performed live while fans and supporters of lesser music coprohagically binge and purge on the excrement of pop music's ghost. I am a little young to be a part of the first and original Rush fan base. The band was originally formed in 1968, and since their self-titled album was released in 1974, they have maintained the same configuration of members: Neil Peart (percussionist and primary lyricist), Alex Lifeson (lead guitar and backup vocals) and Geddy Lee (bassist, keyboards and lead vocals.). These days, one doesn't have to have much rugged individuality  nor be willing to bare ridicule in order to testify as part of Rush-fandom -- but this wasn't always the case. In part, my introduction to the music of Rush was hastened by my Canadian family. Rush

I've written about skateboarding quite a bit on here, and while it occupies no real tangible part of my daily activities these days, I still, even now, find myself thinking about it -- or watching clips here or there. I constantly make note whether a given street is sufficiently smooth, or whether there is a big crack at the top of a stair set. I imagine myself tackling terrain that I probably wouldn't have even attempted while at the top of my game. The other day I came across this post: I took pause after watching several times and then began to contemplate and deliberate between an idea of cyclic or more linear patterns of existence and how humans really like to think that their era of material existence holds some significance that transcends space and time. There is an easier way to gain a glimpse into the nature of time and generations of people and what patterns can be discerned. Whether it be geo-political strife or cooperations, music and clothing stylings or c