Sunday, October 18, 2009
The best friend for which a fella could ask: (UPDATED!)
This is Nic. The majority of those who will read this (the four or so of you) have surely not met Nic, so for your sake, below is a brief list of things you need to know about him:
1. Despite the picture, he's not a San Francisco detective circa 1974.
2. He's a silver smith that, quite literally, smiths silver. He's made rings, necklaces, and more. I hope that one day he'll make me a scimitar.
3. He's an accomplished banjo player (banjist, if you will) and can explain the difference between banjo picking styles with the same zest and verve that your favorite third grade teacher brought to her explanation of the Food Pyramid.
4. We've gone to two different Lyle Lovett concerts. We've also seen The Allman Brothers, Foo Fighters, Pete Droge, Son Volt, and more.
5. I swear that the following is 100% true:
When we were in 11th grade, our band (of course we had a band) was playing at the Provo Youth Center (not joking). We were opening for our friend James' band and some other band, and the whole place was filled with college students that knew the other two bands and the parents of our friends (our friends themselves didn't come because we had stupid friends).
We played our set, ending with a blazingly awesome (for high school kids, anyway) version of "Whole Lotta Love," and then we announced the next band. I stepped back to the microphone.
"Thanks for coming, everyone," I said to our minimal fanbase. "Stick around for the next band." I turned away from the mic and asked the singer of the next band what their name was.
"Een bletus," he mumbled over the roaring applause.
"What?" I asked.
"...Bean Fetus?" I repeated. "Your band's name is 'Bean Fetus?'"
He nodded, looking exasperated at my confusion.
"Uh," I said, back into the microphone, "Next up is a set from Bean Fetus." The guy LEAPS on to the stage, grabs the mic out of its stand, and gives me a glare that could kill a sunflower.
"Our band's name is 'Mean Phoenix,'" he glowered. Nic snatches the microphone out of the guy's hand.
"Should've stuck with 'Bean Fetus,' dude!"
The members of Mean Phoenix/Bean Fetus actually threatened to beat up a pair of smartass high school kids because they mistook and made fun of their stupid band name. And Nic, who started on the football team (the irony of a football star being my long-time best friend never escapes me) would've totally taken them both, too.
In summary, this guy is someone you should all get to know. I've never known someone with more honor, more intelligence (even though he likes Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh), more pragmatism, or more decency. When I had the stomach flu, he's the guy that took me to Target for Pedialyte and a new towel. When my guitar broke and I had a recording session, he lent me not one, but two of his. After every breakup, every layoff, every horrible thing that's ever happened, I know that this guy is there. Last Friday night, Nic gave me some really incredible advice of which I was initially skeptical, but ended up being a thousand percent grateful for, due to its accuracy and perception.
To paraphrase last night's 4 AM terminology, life would be a lot closer to unmitigated shit without Nic in it.
I love you, brother. And I'll shout it from my electronic perch.
EDITED TO ADD:
And after a 45 minute conversation this afternoon, he proved himself to be even smarter than I had thought.
The man is a role model. He's Lloyd Dobler, Jack Donaghy, and Hemingway all wrapped into one.
No, that doesn't mean you can date him. He's taken by one of the only other people that would deserve a blog shout-out of her own.