Pour Me A Story: Vol. 46
feat. the return of Adam Jacobi, lining up in the rain for things, and more!
well, well, well. look what the cat dragged in! (note: the cat didn’t have anything to do with this. she’s more of a visual artist.)
we’re back, finally, with Vol. 46 of Pour Me A Story after an extended hiatus. I won’t mince words: the last few weeks have been physically and mentally tough ones, and I’ve been burning the candles at both ends with work and some freelance stuff that has left me entirely unable to squeeze any creativity out of the dry sponge that has been my brain.
but in great news for you, my long-suffering subscribers (and bad news for my bank account), the freelance work dried up as of Wednesday this week. I’m bummed on the financial front of course, but it gives me back 10 hours a week of my precious free time, which can now be mostly squandered again making tweets and watching scary movies (and also writing newsletters.)
Anyway, We Have Company
in honor of last week’s official anniversary of Pour Me A Story, I reached out to my pal Adam Jacobi. if you’ve been here since the early days you’ll remember him as the special guest from the very first edition. I’ve been thinking about a little anniversary tour for a few weeks in the build-up to the newsletter’s first birthday, and on Wednesday once I realized I now had some free time on my hands again, I hit Adam up at short notice and was stoked when he agreed to come back for his encore.
AC: I can’t believe it’s already been a year since you helped me debut this newsletter. first of all, how’s everything going in your world?
AJ: Well hot damn my good man! Such a pleasant surprise to be called back onto the stage. All is well here: I'm vaxxed and boosted, Pfizer Pfamilia all the way, and I'll be taking my armor-clad immune system to Madison this weekend to watch Iowa play Wisconsin. This'll be the fourth Iowa game in a row I've attended up there, and while the football usually doesn't go Iowa's way at Camp Randall, the town and the people and the food are so genuinely enjoyable that what happens on the field ends up being a minor detail on my trips there.
And naturally, since it's Halloween weekend, if any of your readers happen to be in that area on Saturday and they see a certain mayor of Flavortown... please come say hi to me.
AC: last time we spoke on the record you mentioned finding community in the neighbors in your apartment building was one upside amid all the downsides of 2020. has that continued to grow as time has passed?
AJ: I'm happy to report that the camaraderie has continued — the neighbors now have their own house a couple miles away, but we stay in touch and visit every now and then, it's a group chat now, it's a whole thing. In fact — actually I'll answer your questions out of order here — one big thing I've learned about myself is how much I need personal interaction. Zoom or social media isn't it — harsh words from someone who only came to know you through social media, yes, but like... when we spent that evening at your bar in Denver, at no point was I ever thinking "gosh I wish this was all online instead," y'know?
I've always fancied myself an introvert, and I don't think that has changed per se, but even if I'm 80/20 on the introversion spectrum, that 20% of having other people around is something I need every bit as much as the battery-recharging moments of solitude. I love the buzz of a diner at lunch rush, hugs from friends and relatives, asking a well-placed question and then listening to someone discover things about themselves in real time, cracking wise about bad television with a partner. You can get those sorts of things (to varying degrees) online or whatever, but it's not the same.
We're social animals. We interact. And that's why it's so vitally important for my mental health and wellbeing, as much as my physical, to be up on my vaccinations and ensuring I can safely share space with the people I want to see.
AC: now I follow you on instagram so I might be able to answer this myself anyway, but: what's the best thing you've done Outside this year post-vax?
AJ: The best thing I've done outside? In terms of singular events, being at #4 Penn State vs. #3 Iowa a few weeks ago was the closest I've come to a religious experience at a football game. You know I had to mention that. BUT! I will say that the post-vax thing I'm happiest about is getting a new barber who knows how to make a beard look good. I'm about a week overdue so no current photos to be attached, but even for us baldos, there is nothing like the confidence boost of walking out of the barbershop with a fresh cut, done by someone who knows what they're doing. Nothing.
AC: you’ve now pivoted to video, which was terrible for news organizations circa 2016 but is very exciting stuff when I see my online friends do it. how did the Iowa Sports Review come to fruition and how has it developed since you kicked it off?
AJ: Thank you for asking! The origin story here is pretty simple: a friend of mine saw a Broncos show doing major numbers on YouTube, figured that looked easy enough, and then asked if I wanted to host a show. It's a natural bolt-on for the work we've been doing at Go Iowa Awesome for several years now, and why not get that direct line of communication with our audience? It's a work in progress, certainly, but that progress part includes having former Heisman runner-up Chuck Long on our show tonight, so we're super stoked about that.
POST-STREAM UPDATE: that ruled, Chuck Long is great.
AC: one of the learnings I’ve undertaken in the past year on this newsletter is that it’s WAY better for my guests to choose the song of the week rather than do it myself (presumably because there’s only so many times I can put the MTV Unplugged version of Pennyroyal Tea in there before folks get suspicious.) so this is where you get to choose YOUR song of the week!
AJ: Heyyyy MY song of the week! I'll offer this from what I would consider one of the quintessential yacht rock bands: Ambrosia. Yes, the band photo makes it look like this was a vanity project of Papa John and Jeff Daniels 40 years ago, but the vibes are immaculate even before the sax comes in.
AC: this final softball question may not have come to fruition until several episodes in, but: this is where you get to plug something important to you. have at it, the sky’s the limit!
AJ: Iowa Sports Review, check. Go Iowa Awesome, check. As for things I don't have a stake in, shouts out to Melbourne's own* Tory Taylor, a current All-American candidate for the Iowa Hawkeyes at punter. I don't just say that for the cheap pop from you the author re: Oz expats, but as part of the Name/Image/Likeness rights granted to NCAA athletes for the first time this year, Taylor has his very own official "Punting Is Winning" shirt. And while I would still be delighted if the proceeds from those shirts just went straight into his pockets, they instead benefit the Count The Kicks foundation, which is an evidence-based educational foundation for expecting mothers and health care providers intended to reduce the amount of stillborn births. It's a clever tie-in, as most good promotions are, but it's also refreshing to see a male athlete — especially a college football player — use his fame to draw attention to reproductive health causes. You and I and many millions of people already understand that reproductive health should be everybody's concern, of course, but usually that gets left to female athletes. Good on you Tory.
*You're from Brisbane as I recall, right? Is there any Melbourne-Brisbane cultural friction the way you see it between, like, Chicago and New York, or are y'all friends down there?
(Editor’s note: Yes to Brisbane. The cultural friction probably isn’t too pronounced in any way other than “Melburnians think they’re the greatest version of Australians, while Brisbanites have a generational hangover of small-man syndrome, even as the River City comes into its own.)
And most importantly, CONGRATULATIONS on a year of keeping the stories and good vibes going in my inbox — I've enjoyed them all. Let's circle back in another year and hopefully we'll be talking about those previous 12 months in more of a "there aren't hundreds of thousands of people dying of the same thing anymore" way. Cheers brother, proud to know you.
You Lined Up In The Rain For What?
I’ve written a couple of times (relatively) recently about my origin story as a sneaker enthusiast and its steeper trajectory over the past few years during my employment with Finish Line.
but while I admired the sneaker world from afar for a long time, it was only recently that I was in a financial position to be able to pursue and build a collection (and obviously access by way of the job doesn’t hurt.) this, in a way, makes me a relative newcomer to the pursuit, having really only experienced the “online-only” world of purchasing kicks.
those who’ve been doing it for longer, however, know a different part of the culture: one where sneakerheads would frequently line up outside retail stores hours before opening time — sometimes even camping out overnight — to get their hands on (or feet in) whatever pair was releasing that day.
while the online shopping world has grown exponentially over the past 10 years or so, brick-and-mortar sneaker shopping hasn’t wavered as much as business publications might have you believe. the pandemic obviously hurt retail sales and drove more consumers online for product releases, but there’s still no slowing down folks who like to buy their kicks in a store. that’s something I had never experienced until last week.
in Denver there was only one small independent sneaker store close by us, and since they never stocked anything that Finish Line wasn’t carrying, I never had much incentive to go. but when we moved to Cincinnati, our new apartment just happened to be less than a mile away from one of the city’s most respected and established sneaker spots, Corporate. I’d followed the store on Instagram for a while but hadn’t had the chance to visit until we moved here.
Alex generously bought me a Corporate gift certificate for my birthday and, as fate would have it, the following weekend the store was releasing a particular pair of Nike Dunks. they opened at 11, and Alex texted from outside the store around 9:25 to say a line was already forming and that I should get up there. I stopped what I was doing, got dressed and raced up the street to jump in line behind 25 or so people. by the time the store opened at 11, there were more people behind me than there were in front of me, and I felt optimistic enough about my chances. but as I finally got to the door, after almost two hours of waiting, the customer ahead of me came out bemoaning the fact that they were sold out of size 12 and 13. deflated, I walked away telling myself that while I’m glad I had experienced it, waiting in line for sneakers wasn’t worth the time suck and that I wasn’t gonna do it again.
WELL. we know where this was going, huh? two weekends ago, Corporate announced on Instagram that they’d be releasing another pair of Nike Dunks, this pair a collaboration with Social Status, a sneaker boutique in Charlotte, NC, inspired by the idea that there’s “joy in the struggle.” I’d seen enough photos of the shoes to know they’re a gorgeous pair and, knowing that it’d probably be even harder to get my hands on a pair than the last ill-fated release, I still felt like I wanted to give it a shot.
Alex, bless her, encouraged me to go for it and said I’d regret it if I didn’t give it a shot. this time the store was opening at 10, and asked customers not to start lining up until 9. I showed up at 7:50, assuming I could get a spot, unfold my camp chair and at least log in and do a little work while I waited.
that didn’t eventuate, but I wasn’t disappointed about it. instead I got talking to the other people who showed up for their own opportunity to buy a pair, and for someone whose entire sneaker fandom has been centered around online discussion, talking with other enthusiasts in the flesh (particularly after 18 months of not really spending time with anybody else) was almost surreal. we admired each other’s shoes, discussed pairs we’d copped and missed out on and thought about buying at exorbitant resale prices, and bonded over our mutual contempt for the folks who showed up at 9 and cut in line in front of the rest of us who’d showed up early. it was cold and rainy but the camaraderie (and coffee that Alex and the baby dropped off) more than kept me going.
if you’re on the edge of your seat wondering: yeah, this time I managed to secure a pair. I ended up in line right behind the same guy who had broken the bad news to me on my previous visit, and this time we went in at the same time and both bagged a pair of size 12s. but it wasn’t just shoes I walked away with, but a feeling of being a part of a community a little bit more than I had up until that point. it also made me miss the hell out of going to the office, where easily the best parts of my work days were talking about sneakers with my coworkers.
I don’t know if I’ll work in the sneaker business forever, but those three (!) hours I spent hanging outside a little boutique in Hyde Park showed me that I’ve been missing out on a lot sitting behind a computer. now if that’s not a metaphor, or something, I dunno what is.
Worthy Consumables
the last time we spoke, back on October 1, I mentioned that I’d been carrying a back injury for about as long as we’ve been living in Cincinnati. I’ve now been undergoing twice-weekly physical therapy and, other than for the hour after each session, I haven’t had much relief.
it’s been bad enough that I bought a stand-up desk and have resigned myself to standing up for the entire work day because I can’t sit down without discomfort. my fuckin’ feet hurt, you guys. as a last resort, I asked the physical therapist about dry needling procedures and she agreed we could give it a whirl.
I had the first session this week and, while the discomfort is still there in spurts, I’m cautiously optimistic about the results. so if having little needles pushed into your muscles to the bone sounds like it might be more palatable than whatever injury pain you’re experiencing, maybe consider dry needling! I’ll let you know next week if it worked.
worthy consumable number two, I gotta say, is Venom 2: Let There Be Carnage. I’m sure serious Marvel moviegoers probably hate the Venom franchise, and I could barely remember the first movie, but I went and caught the sequel (and a couple of beers) on Wednesday night and you know what? it was worth exactly the $11.83 I paid for the ticket. it was entertaining enough, Tom Hardy plays a good straight man to Venom’s funny man, and Woody Harrelson is always worth the price of admission.
Parting Note
you know the drill. what the guest says is what goes!
thanks for joining me this week pals, and thanks for sticking around over the extended hiatus. it feels good to be back, and I will endeavor to keep up the pace again. but until next week, stay well!
— adrian ✌🏻