the Olsen’s outside their house on one of those summer nights, 2013
Toothbrush is the truthbrush
On Dr. Dog, sitting around, and past summers
We were just sitting around at Emma's and every couple songs James would ask, “Is this so-and-so?” and Robby, who was running the queue, would say, “Yes!” and James would be excited he guessed it right. I said, “James, you’re 3 for 3,” and he laughed and Robby laughed and made a joke about all of this being a test. Robby was pulling out some old stuff. Some Raccoon, some old Dr. Dog––actually, I don’t remember anything but Raccoon and Dr. Dog but it blew me away because I haven’t listened to Raccoon since college. And now here I am, by my lonesome, listening to Raccoon and Dr. Dog, trying to summon some sort of feeling I don't know I have access to anymore. I’m not even sure what feeling I’m looking for, I’m just riding on a feeling about a feeling. I’m just curious what would come of revisiting an album I used to listen to in high school with the people who are still some of my best friends to this day. We don’t really listen to Dr. Dog as much as we used to but we all still respect the shit out of them and we can’t deny how obsessed we were. Just the other day, I was recalling a memory adjacent to the memories that come to mind when I think about the summer after my freshman year of college. The summer we sat around the Olsen’s parent’s garage in beach chairs, playing ping pong and smoking 27’s and listening to Dr. Dog records from newest to oldest. We drank Rolling Rock and Evan Williams. You know things were getting soupy by the time we got to Easy Beat and Toothbrush. “Toothbrush is the truthbrush,” Scott would say. Somehow he got a hold of the original Psychedelic Swamp and shared it with us. When something was the vibe we would say, “Swamp is on,” and when something wasn’t the vibe we would say, “Swamp is off.” Sometimes we went to the Wagner’s and hung out in their backyard or we went to Emma’s and hung out in the loft above the garage. It was all dependent on which house had no parents no rules. Anyways, the adjacent memory I have to these memories is not a singular experience but it’s more of how I remember Emma from that era. She was getting into gardening, which was just the beginning of her getting into farming, which is what she does for a living to this very day. That summer, we ran around barefoot and our feet got all calloused and leathery, something I can’t even fathom doing now in a city like Philly. We’d end up with glass and needles in our heels. And now I’m recalling how we were just sitting around in her apartment, 2 hours before everyone else would come over and sit around with us, before Robby would put on songs that James would remember. You know what Emma said to me? She said, “It’s funny, despite all the stupid shit that happened last summer, it reminds me of the summer after our freshman year of college.” The summer swamp was on. Nothing stupid and dramatic happened that summer but last summer was like a fucking season of the Jersey Shore. Maybe she was referring to the way we’d all gather at the Boiz house and how it was similar to the way we’d gather at the Olsen’s or the Wagner’s or in her loft. Even after all these years, we were still sitting around in people’s backyards, drinking beers in hot weather, watching ashtrays fill up and overflow. Those overflowing ashtrays are disgusting but are also kind of a beautiful work of art. I want the satisfaction of throwing it out and starting fresh but I love watching it grow. That gnarly cig sculpture is an accurate representation of time passing, the same way empty bottles on a table are like the residue of the conversations that took place there. There is always going to be something there to mark that time that reminds you of another time of another time of another time of a time adjacent to that time of a time of a time of a time of a person from that time of time of a time of a time of a feeling from that time that you need to conjure up from the corner of your mind which reminds you of another time of a time of a time of a time of a time.
July 2024