Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Jessie, Bad Boy

Simplicity never meant very much to me. It was like I absolutely overlooked everything that was perfectly normal because it was just mundane and didn't derserve further inquiry. Passing by something small and insignificant. Something small small meaningless. You never realize how many things take on these properties while you jaunt around the places your world has become. We just pass pass leave them behind. It's not really something that you have to worry about right? It's so simple. It's common sense.

You really have to sit back now and open up an ear an eye a brain and just witness momentarily how I began to view all this simple and mundane as an incredibly insightful discovery around every turn. My mind begun to dull, and not quite enjoy all those complex and scary things that they have to teach you in school about quantum this quantum that and derivatives, so I started to turn to simple little things that I could just convince myself I knew more about then everyone else, because everyone else doesn't pay attention. This became some what of an interesting science. I was a preteen theorist and I was discovering already discovered things around every turn. Perfectly normal things that most people would just pass by.

It was in peoples actions faces movements voices. All those tiny and insignificant things that no one ever takes notice of. It was a personality embodied in action. I could fully distinguish individual behavioral patterns in teenaged girls by the age of twelve. It was quite simple. After people started confiding in me (obviously because they'd heard about my prestigious study) I began to notice many tendencies. One was implied, girls always seemed to want to date a hundred different guys, but they only stayed with the one their friends really wanted them too, because what was a boy to then but a kissing post at the end of the day. Well, for many that actually did stay more than a week became incredibly attatched and started to get broken hearted all over the place. This new epidemic of broken hearts led me to believe what all of these heart broken girls were telling me. That was BOYS SUCK.

Well you're wrong, not all boys suck. A lot of the time you just have to tell us what to do and we'll go merrily along with it and some times get enough gusto to throw in some flare and surprise you. That's just the reason that all of us BOYS SUCK. There are some other cases however, where it is not gender specific, and the male counterpart in the relationship just so happens to have some mental imbalance.

I also discovered something else that was incredibly vital to my research in past years. There seems to be a like charge shared between girls and Xbox/Playstation controls, and likewise with D'n'D minatures ect. This is because the two objects seem to repel each other with quite a shocking force. I was never completely sure why, because all I could ever think about was how the BOYS SUCK label would never be applied to any of the people who I spent my weekends with crashing away on a control and no doubt developing some deep seated carpal tunnel. So, this magnetic occurance was of course very unfortunate, as girls didn't seem to grow out of it until they were well beyond the age of fifteen. (source: myself)

Middle school was the most confusing time of my entire life because I tried to understand girls because my dad told me I would never understand girls. Now, I still don't understand girls and the BOYS SUCK, and controller magnet theories are still patent pending, so until I really get some good hard concrete evidence, I'm stuck where I am, just watching the normal mundane simple things closely, and that'll keep me happy.

On another not quite similiar note, possibly from the minor key, I can't wait for this week to come and go and come back again because my parents will finally not be here and I'll get some rest and relaxation. Then I can start back again with mom. I see how angry I've been about her, and it's honestly incredibly stupid. All the things she's over looked for me, and I don't even let her get away with asking me to do things that most people would be morally obliged to do anyway. She's only out to get the best out of me that I have to offer, and I love her for that, so I can't really so much be mad at her any more, because that is stupid.

- "With a Phrase to Cut these Lips... I love you"

(sorry I stole the lyrics at the end of it from you Ben, I just thought it was super nifty)

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Wait, Listen, Crumble

You can't watch the frail syrup drip off the lip of a harlequin's manequin that wears a dress down to her knees. You can't watch it knowing that you're going to have to sweep up the remains of a shattered glass in the end. Fourteen different things could be flying through the air at the time but when you're focusing on it, that one trouble, there's not a whole lot else that can catch your attention. It's beautiful and it's strange and there's nothing in the world that could bother you more. It's something that you've thought about for oh-so-long and it's getting closer closer closer gone. Now you've got something to think about.

You can sleep on it sit on it think on it but not give a fuck. Just all day, thinking watching waiting for some amazing inuendo that fits perfectly in the puzzle of how all of this means anything to you in this big black place. Where did you go wrong? What did you finally do to fuck everything up again? You couldn't possibly be perfect. There's always something wrong wrong wrong. It's all your fault because you just couldn't fucking look away. That frail syrup dripping off the lap dance lapel of the rich man "GOD" calling out names to be pleased. You watched, and you waited, and you lost. You can't fix everything, and you'd be stupid to try to. Did I mention that you've never been too bright. You're not that smart, not smart at all, you always manage to FUCK UP. Y'know I don't blame your parents. They love you, they're spectacular, but you deserve the shit you get and there's no reason you should be complaining so much.

This is your pilot speaking. Please remove your left hand from your forehead, as this is merely an illusion. You're head doesn't hurt on account of a headache, and massaging it won't make anything feel better. Your head hurts because you can't stop worrying and it just keeps turning in circles and is gradualing boring yet another hole in your psyche. Don't worry, it'll go nicely with the hole she left. yes yes yes. You remember that hole she left, the one that made you a "good person" that one that made you start worrying about every little thing? That's the hole I'm talking about, and that's the one that's gonna be hurting. Your psyche, not your head. This is your pilot speaking, and I would please ask you to remove your hand from your forehead, you look like a fucking tool.

Do I think I'm a big man because I bear down on some  one like this. Well, I guess I'm doing something counterproductive, because the more I tear into you, the more you barret yourself and the more I have to pick on. This is just fantastic, being the man in the back of your head, kicking your cortex until you've got nothing left to think about but all the shit you've done wrong. Do you want me to come clean clean crystal clear with you right now? You should not be with her. What is she doing with a insolent little fuck like you? You're fat, you've got no idea when to shut up, and you're stupid trying to please everyone is just taking time away from her. Seriously, you have to give up on her old friends, they're not here for you anyway, they're just silhouettes of the former you. I liked him better regardless, he used to yell at people and call them out when they were nervous. I liked him.

You've gotta give it up kid. Just straight up off the edge and let me help you push because quite frankly you're a waste of space. Even I can see that to be completely honest and crystley-crystal clear with you. Yes yes yes oh yes you're just a filthy waste of space, and I hope everyone lets you know just how much they hate you in the next coming days. Honestly!! You can't expect so much from people. They're all going to call you out on how unreal you are. Oh but I have to stop pissing you off now, looks like you're off to work, and then to work. Work work work, do you ever stop?

Sunday, January 18, 2009

What can I say

Fourteen no eighteen no all of the bodies got gathered up in one little pile in the middle of a black black feild. The ashes took weeks to clean and they all had stories written on them all had a story written on them but no one knew so much as a name. It was all they asked, all of them. all of the bodies. To be known because of their little bit of flourish and their little bit of death dancing to get them well known and famous while their burned in their black black field. All of their life stories drifting up and up and up into the sky where no one is going to catch them each and every piece and read them because the birds don't give a fuck and they'll be talking with god personally. 

How could you have been so stupid.

You could have had every little shred of whatever you wanted to take here here home on the planet and yet you leaped with so much grace into a big old puddle of gasoline. Keep breathing keep breathing but listen. When you hear the strike of the match you just so graciously wet yourself because of god knows what. I don't know what, I wasn't there, I can't gather your ashes and read your story. Point is. You pissed yourself, out of fear, out of excitement, out of the backlash of that severe opium trip you fell through equally as gracefully earlier. Stop being so thick, but it's too late to be mad now. No no not yet. No one can bring you back from the dead because a body can't breath or talk or tell you how to bring them back after gaining infinite knowledge in the afterlife. No one's bringing you back stop complaining you're a corpse.

Where where where did I put it. Where did I put it now I can't find it. You've been scratching around and searching around for the one thing the last thing the only thing to bring you out of this stupid little state and you can't find it. Can't find release from all of these little inconviniences, can't stop saying the wrong thing. Do you really want to go back in time and fix every little thing that you every did wrong? Kill yourself. Do you want a time machine? Jump off a cliff. Do you want to love your mother more? Kill yourself. Have you ever embarassed yourself in front of thousands of people and now you feel bad about.

Kill yourself

Kill yourself

Kill yourself 

Why bother moving on when you could always just bloop of the face of the earth. Is there something holding you back? Put your face on the ground with all the bodies, smell the gasoline, take a deep breath. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. There it is, the strike of a match and you're just another cider in the flame taking you to a better place. How could you be so stupid so naive so stupid stupid wrong. But it's too late to be mad. Not time not time yet. I can't be mad while you're laying there with your face down because it's hard to break something already so clearly so incredibly broken. But wait, when you meet god, find out how to make a time machine and go back before everything went downhill. There's the answer.

Kill yourself.

Oh please please please please please please just get it over with so I can stop stop stop wait. I don't want to stop. Here I am match book in hand and I can give you all over to what you want to be given to but I won't. Don't kill yourself. How can you be so stupid stupid stupid. This black field's your life so get up and play fucking ball. Now that you're all soiled and feeling quite down hearted you're going to have to get up and do something with yourselves because I'm not about to honestly and truly be the one to end it for you. You've done it again, all of you, just gone and made yourselves look stupid stupid stupid.

Such a sin really that I'm so insensitive and that I'm out to seriously hurt everyone and everything because I just want to feel pain, I just want to see pain I just want you to know that I want to see your anguish. Tell me all about and please let me bring you to my black black field. Lay face down while I make you realize some things and I push you over the edge of your own cliff and the bring you back. I'll pull the trigger, I'll push you, I'll hang the nuse, I'll call the squad to attention, I'll spike the drink with cyanide so why wait and JUST KILL YOUSELF.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Cross multiply and Carry

Cold and dark is the way it is outside with a hint of glory to bask in. I just got home and I'm feeling like a not so drunk. I can't believe it's been so long since I've been in a wrong state, and honestly I miss the out of control I get. Could I do this again? I know I could and I want to I need to I can't. I think I have a moral obligation to no do it anymore because of something something something I lost it. But that's not important. What's on my mind is that I'm suddenly not good enough for my own mother my own family my own friends it seems. Can I remedy this with some suddenly tenacious bursts of compassion for them? Am I really that selfish?

I was home all day cozy and warm playing a game I really like. Quinn Jordan Twinkee Adam got it for me. I play it all the time. That's besides the point though I suppose because I promised to let you know what it is that is bothering me. I may not have promised before, but I certainly am now, so listen close close. It was mom. Of course. Have you heard me complain about her before? I'm about to again so don't get to excited. What happened was she told me that I was selfish and not good enough and not five minutes went by that she wasn't angry about me for something.

Selfish Selfish Dramatic

These words keep popping up every time I talk to her and I can't find it possible to stand it much longer. Can I leave leave get out? I wish I could but I can't find the strength in my legs and my lungs and my heart to just throw myself out the door. It's a to be or not to be crisis that I can't fix because I don't know what it'd be like out there in the big scary lonely world. Can I ask some one? Does any one know? Just tell me because I'm not scared to hear it. If it's not so bad harsh real I might actually try it for awhile and chronicle my journey into the outside world. The big harsh scary real outside world.

Tell me tell me please.

Not to digress but we were talking about sweet dear mother bear. She's not so much terrible to me as unbearable. We can't talk anymore and I don't think she knows that she hurts. Like the picture of young and innocent me that reminds her of me reminds her of hugs reminds her of innocence. I can't be him anymore and for that I'm terribly sorry. But you cried. You cried cried sobbed on it and told me how you did so. It hurts to know I'm not making you feel like a loved mother. I'm a loving son. But moving on moving on keeping going. She's yelling a lot now. Calling me selfish but I don't know where this comes from. It's because I go out I think. Like Liz's parents did. It's because I'm having fun like a never used to. And don't blame yourself for this because no one else will because it's not your fault because I like being with you.

I think it might be the abandon

Why do I always refer to it as abandon? It's not abandoning anything but actually seeing my friends more. I have one free night a week give me it. And then there's family family family. It's not my fault that he doesn't fit in with them that they don't necessarily like him that he can awkward. Now my fault not his fault don't blame anyone. I worry about it though a lot. I worry a lot. Worry. You used to worry, is that why I worry? who cares don't listen who's listening. I try to be close to my family. It's not like it's my fault that I don't have the same interests of you of them of my relatives. It's not my fault. Blame blame selfishness. Is this where it all adds up?

Selfishness + Family Functions - Time with friends = ____________

Figure it out

I can't do it. I'm sorry I can't love everyone with a little tiny teeeensy bit of my blood in them like you do. It's not my nature not my element not me. Can I do it for them and be part of it. I really wish I could be. I miss liam, I feel bad for how I treated him but I'm coming back to me. I taught Vanessa how to bowl tonight. I showed Ben how to inhale helium and sound like he hadn't even hit pre-pre-pre puberty yet. It was fun. Rodney laughed. Mitchell Laughed. I missed it. She took me out of that selfish state. Can I stay there?

I guess it's better now. I changed myself to get my way. But is this why I'm selfish? Because I only love my family because I want something. She'd be happy with it though. Mom. I'm not complaining.

I'm friends with all of them again. "The girls".

It's strange even being able to talk to them all just because I spent ten minutes talking to Liz on MSN. It's no big deal. I just wanted to see how things were. It's not like I'm after her again and everything's going to be willie-nillie like it was. Sorry, I love Julianna, with all my heart now. Every square centimeter millimeter the unit small than the latter. Every little tiny-est winy-est bit of it. So don't think it's going to go back to how it always was. I'm just friends friends old friends.

Can they change?

They remind me of sick sick wrong sometimes. Sometimes. Some days.

Before I go. I miss her. I left her house tonight, and on her door step with kissed and said I love you and I couldn't picture my arms without her laying there with me while i drifted into a lonely sleep. Oh oh oh I want you here right now. I read your blog. I loved it adored it read it twice thrice.


Thursday, January 15, 2009

A little black book

I hereby declare that I officially have one day off per week. It's like a crazy little black book took hold of me with a tenacious grip and held me fastidiously in place to some how create some order in the incredibly unorganized lifestyle I lead. I'm jealous of the heady misanthropist who bleeds human hate. They have no friends to speak of, no compassion in their bones to listen to the effervescing dramatics of everything around them that I feed off as though it were the plentiful tit of a mother, but they're still happy to be by themselves. Sometimes I just want to be alone. None the less, I would die without my friends, and their continual support of me, and I'm not quite sure how I'd keep moving moving moving without her near me with me around me. It wouldn't be easy to give it all up, so I just won't. Right now my little black book says I should be waking up.

What could you do with a few extra turns of that shorter hand on the clock. What could I do could I wish could I accomplish. I could create art, talk to people, have friends for more than an hour on a monday night and that would be nice. That would be good that would be nice. I can't do anything justice with ten minutes to type a love letter or a friend letter or an acquaintence letter. I get up earlier just to write this blog just to write my thoughts just to share myself. Could I play it over over over in my head with the record that took all my thoughts and melded them. Could it spin till it melts over me and lets me know the strangley comforting euphoria of memory. Oh no no no can't succomb to memory. Keep going. Right now my little black book tells me I should be out for a run.

I don't necessarily want to leave things to allow myself a little more valence because I love the things I do. I want to dialate time and make it worth more worth much worth my time. If time could just take itself and stretch it's essence upon a table of porcelain pleased. The sound of heavy breathing and the kiss of sin won't even be near me because I simply can't find the time to allow it to press itself up against me. Can't find time time time. Right now, my little black book says I should be writing this blog. I wish I could defy go against and pledge myself in protest of this terribly structur-ous thing.

I know how you felt now. The intense fear and stress that comes from rolling out of control into a routine with each and every moment of truly being. And I'm sorry.

I know what it is to miss you so much Julianna. I can't write the words that I want to in every moment of the day to you now simply because our cell phones won't allow it. I wish wish wish I could always talk to you and always hear your voice on the other end of electricity. I'd be excentric I'd be mad I'd be foolish to think you could always be directly here at my side and in my arms but how I wish it. I miss you too much to only see you, on a garunteed basis, once a week. Once a week. that's not nearly enough to do anything is it? Right now my little black book says I should be getting ready for school.

So my clock come to your feet. Twist yourself around this crutch and let me cripple you so that you move with a limp. So that you move with such a terribly injured gait that I may have two extra three extra any extra hours in my short and unfulfilling day. I'll keep moving at the same pace to clear the path ahead of you but let me be ahead of you. Time time time just let me keep infront of your hands. Let me stay out of your reach and I'll reward you I'll give to you I'll let you be all you want for just two more hours precious time. Dialate now or forever will something rotten keep me from eluding the clutching hands of a thousand routines eager to set it. Right now my little black book says I should be in a torrent of events bleeding me into nothing but a maleable shell. Right now my little black book is burning.

Sunday, January 11, 2009


I find it completely and utterly necessary to title this blog as it is titled. Hello. Hello Hello Hello. This is my way of saying this blog will be entirely completely most definitly personal with some one. I probably told them it was about them prior to writing it. In fact I did tell them. This does not mean, however, that you can't see something from it from me to you. So right now don't click back or spam the backspace key in the address bar to clear it for some more interesting content like redtube, just listen. Listen. No not like that, you're not listening right. Listen. Really.

To fully understand all these things all those things and many of that thing you'll have to understand the prerequisits you so amazingly and fullfill-edly met upon meeting me. Oh wait we're moving too fast already in this frenzied gait of explanation-atude. This prerequisits aren't just for me my dear my love my little shnookum-zi-poopsie-pants, they're for almost all of my friends if they'll allow me to so willing speak for them. I would have fallen deeply and utterly mostly infatuated with you even had you not met my friends prerequisits but you did so I give you no worry as to what they think of you given some small public gathering for I can assure you. They love you too.

Moving on

Not much time to be completely honest. I have to restrict myself withhold myself some how keep myself in a space of time. For if I could expel all the reasons I have found myself completely and entirely taken with you, the internet would become over loaded and much too hefty to stream pornography at the quick and perverted rate most people desire of it. Let's go back, back to the beginning to the place where we met.

Matt Porters. Matt Porter reminds me of music reminds me of singing reminds me of your head on my chest. It reminds me of the soft ''mmhmm'' you so cutely and innocently utter in the space following something a tad more guilty. Careful careful careful, remind me to not let too many people know what we do in our spare time. Still Listening?  good. 

My voice carries over a nice little friendly little jovial little thermal in the bustling air. So rushed, why not wait and hear my love story. Oh well at least some one's still listening to me. Or are there. No less, I'll keep on like a rambler ramb-ibler. Beyond Matt's house everything reminds me of the pre-pre-pre dating. We were friends and you were a doesn't do the boyfriend girlfriend thing. But you were so much cooler than me that I needed it so bad to your friend. I'm glad you were a doesn't do the boyfriend thing now, it made everything work out like it was supposed to.

The best way to get on my parents friends siblings cousins good sides is to talk. And you do it! So stop worrying silly it only makes you seem quieter. The reason they like you to talk is because the last one didn't talk. She didn't do much of anything to completely and entirely honest but I digress as this is degrading the chapter at hand.

Your house your house your house your dog. It all reminds me of you reminds me of love reminds me of the nice smelling candles that mommy used to use to cover up the pinesol. No no no not because I think you smell like pinesol but because it reminds me of that crazy carefree and innocent times when I was younger. You instill such abandon in me thank you thank you so so so so so so so so so so much. Are those enough SOs? Are you still listening?

You can stop listening now to be completely honest because I have to go eat supper and teach little kids the proper way to do doop do doop do doop through a nirvana song for the eighth week in a row. Eighth. Funny word. Meanwhile. You can read this over again. I love you :)

Friday, January 9, 2009

Syntax Error

Maybe you noticed and maybe you didn't.

I've started avoiding entirely proper grammar and it's brother entirely proper syntax. Quite frankly, following proper syntax all the time is for english class for resum├ęs for uninterested reading. Syntax is taxing. So I'm becoming a writing anomaly that fits into a mould that's already been established. Technically I'm not an anomaly any more but those are technical-ical technicalities. I want to think of myself as something entirely and incredibly original creative inspired. This is all semantics to make you think I'm all high and mighty in myself and my words. But technical-ical technicalities make this not even semantics. So I guess I'm just being cocky with words. You can call these


I worked out again last night, fell completely victim to the tedium of up down up down up down weight lifting. How satisfying to actually feel my muscles ache and yell again. I never want that feeling of pang pang in my arms to go away. It's the painful feeling of accomplishment. The best way to make a protien shake and make it taste good, is to buy vanilla whey powder, and add it to some ricotta cheese, with blueberries, yogurt, half a banana and some flax seed to make sure it comes out the right end at the right time to save you from a harsh gurgle gurgle when you want it least. So many things to do in one day and this just seems like another commitment for my body to commit to indefinitly. To be skinny.

I don't want to look at the sky any more. That looming depressing thing. Too many symbols spread across it trying to present themselves with some pathetic cloudy arrogance. Float on ye blasted things and don't bother me with your metaphors. Look away. So there's a forest of incredibly strong structural examples for me to follow instead of those pestilent clouds. They're strong like broad shoulders of a good viking maid and I could fall on them if I needed something to fall upon that was strong like a good viking maid. Couldn't be more wrong wrong wrong. You flock there in the forest of brick and stone to find that people have already flocked as best as flockers could in a folking of folk-titude. They want grease they want grease they want grease and some want lightning but most just want so much grease and poor quality.

no more big macs.

So you start looking for solitude-iful solace in people now instead of angry clouds and full forests of people people people. Shazam wham bam boom there's your solace that you've been searching so critically for. How much you'd find in people to keep you warm when it's cold even in the artificially heated atmosphere of your favorite sit down Big Mac Bar. Yes yes yes there's where you can find something that's truly and utterly lean-able. People can be your best friends some times next to dogs because dogs will never talk back. You can tell them your troubles and tell them your troubles and never feel bad or give anything back. Don't even bother trying to break their stoic shell that would be absolutely and entirely retarded. They don't want to have some one to lean on, they just want to have every single human being they've ever opened up to to throw problems at them like tomatoes in Italia.

Did you catch the sarcasm?

No no no people won't do either, so look for solace in a book a game a song a fake something. At least that way whatever it is your using to fake your happiness with it'll stay constant and you can never worry about it stealing your girlfriend. Except World of Warcraft which has a very shocking capability to very well steal your girlfriend, sense of style, sense of reality, sense of being, and sense of non-nerd-iness-atude. Get more and more addicted to it and you'll see but don't see because it's not the right thing to be using to try and take a break through making a fake

I like a stinkin' achin' shake
I like vanilla it's the finest of the flavors.

Come to and end come to an end be the end. I have nothing left to say about this matter any more because I have no faith left in it very much at all to lean on except a nice solid book. My dear and sweet and lovely and beloved cheloveck does give me relief most times though. Nearly every time that I tell her what's wrong she's got solution a b c and f5 right in her pocket ready to blast off for me. So not all people are hopeless.

Just most of them.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Metamorph-ing in a conflagration of

The ocean floor is hidden from my viewing lens, but you're there, the coral on the bottom, just decaying just rotting just dying. I left you there my treasure, in one peice, and here I come to view upon it. Seeing it before reminded me of sad reminded me of depression reminded me of you. Seeing it now reminds me of sick reminds me of loss reminds me of them reminds me of you. Sick sick sick, it's not easy to make sick coral any better when it's on the ocean floor. Do I pick you up? You'd wish of it. Do I watch the luxuriously tacky fish flutter next to you. You'd wish of it. You're sick now, and I'm not miracle doctor. Have fun in your reef with your disco colored fishy air about you and be sick sick sick.

The best way to play a harmonic minor scale, is to use all three of your fingers, and fret each individual note as you do doop do doop do doop up the scale. It's like a ladder, but for your hands, made from wood, certainly not safe. The best way to perform a good sweep pick is to be Jason Becker's former self when he could move. Flutterdy-doo fluttery-doo fluttery-doo. That's what it would sound like if you performed it properly. But to make that exact sound you would have to be Jason Becker's former self as he was when he could move. When you could move. Can you move? Honestly, can you move or are you just sitting there stuck in your chair trying to slooshie the last sounds of your breath escaping from your mouth as you read this. You are now breathing manually.

Come clean with me now, are you really movable. Can you honestly press your soul up against a pane glass window and leave a dark and deepened steam impression on it. Well of course you can't, your soul doesn't have weight doesn't have volume doesn't have heat. But be movable as movable can be when your soul isn't where it sould be. Don't be like giving up. Don't be like wanting everything to be so much easier. For god sakes just move. You have just become aware that your nose never actually leaves your line of sight.

Dum dee dum dee dum dee dum, all down the yellow brick road on a segway with three ears of corn and a heart and a courage and a red slippers. Wait though, are you still moving? Don't forget, you're still breathing manually. Dum dee dum don't forget about the way you could be living if you could live in the spot light and live like everyone else. It's so good to have friends isn't it! It's so fabulous to be loved when you can't love back in the minutes that you spend with yourself. five minutes four minutes three minutes I'm moving again. And for god sakes don't forget to breath. The way I move the way I move the way you move. I wish I could kick back back back and relax in a few brief moments of my day and not be as truthfully and exasperatingly occupied as I am.





Don't Forget

I've got a book telling me how to move how to study when to move when to jerk off. A little bound little black book. Right now I should be sleeping. Right now I should have finished my homework. According to my book. But I can't sleep.

The Game.

Did you miss a beat, let me get you started again.




Monday, January 5, 2009

The Recording Process

We, the band, started recording our first song a few nights ago. It was something strange to actually get to this point with a group of gentlemen such as my band. We're recording with a couple of friends of ours who're already quite adequet at doing the job, it seems that the career they've chosen in this field is quite well chosen indeed. Our song sounds good, just good. My mind keeps running over the insecurities of it. I can't seem to feel comfortable about the work I've done on the project, it's as though I can't settle with the fact that i'm actually getting along well doing something musically.

I worry, as I hear the product played back to me, that I sound too much like another band. I strive to be original in all the moments I play my instrument, in all the moments I sing and create a new piece of my own art. Playing music like this reminds me of Shallow Roots reminds me of Metal reminds me of Knorm. I miss the ol' goon. He's been so adsent lately. I don't necessarily miss all the things we played, but the kinship is not nearly as present as I wish it were. We referred to each other as brothers in that time and that really keeps me on my toes. Knorms somewhat an overreaction sometimes though, which is hard to deal with sometimes.

Other than recording, lately I've been having bursts of willpower, initiative to get along and do things more than I used to. To play guitar is to be for me, so to want to keep playing rigorously as I have been is to be more rigorous than I can be. I want to keep pushing myself though, it seems much more worth it now that we've got a solid sound nailed down. Quinn agreed to be our rythm guitar player. Thank God. We needed a close friend to be in the mix with all of us. I liked Ben I like Ben I wish it could have worked out but there's too many things to do for all of our lifes to syncronize. Original Original Original keep moving.


I want to be the one on everyone's CD player someday. To be omnipresent in the world of all people. Who knows, it may be a goal within reach these days, though I feel doubtful upon that guesstimation. Keep it moving though. Keep pumping out those choons.

The Mighty Fighty Shushbugs, we are.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Bleeding me Home

It's surprising that I should be so entertained in the presence of my younger cousin. It was only three years ago, or a few days more, that I was not interested in her in even the slightest way, yet now our friendship has evolved into something more than most friendships or cousin-ships do in just the short time of a three year span. I've done more in this week, partied, shopped, galavanted if you will, than I ever have. It's like this part of my family allows me some temporary release from the monotonous routine that I always seem to fall into as part of my life. They've even made me want to try polyphasic sleep again. But maybe not....

I've decided to tell you a little bit about how my ''life changing'' is going. I've got the initiative to start running again, and it's helped, I've had a couple small jogging session lately. My family being here, and being awake until three o'clock each morning does put a slight splinter in working out, lifting weights ect. but I'm sure that that will return to me as my routine comes back together. I've also opened a new savings account. I'm chastized almost constantly about my self centered spending. It's not my fault. I have money, I spend money. SO I've decided to transfer AT LEAST 50% of each paycheck into this low interest savings account, and praying for it to build up in time to make me some money for university.

Money Saving ideas

Bring lunch to work instead of buying it.

Borrow Games from friends when I feel the urge.

Buy books from the bargain bin, stories are timeless, they'll get to the bin eventually.

Ask for things as a gift for my birthday or christmas, they're never THAT far away.

Pay for less movies, be more extreme in sneaking ability

Okay, so my plans aren't foolproof, but I think I'll have a little bit of a head start onto the wagon with all of this willpower I suddenly have. Just have to keep it rolling, keep it going, keep it up homeslice. I dunno, hopefully all this will become an unstoppable boost of will that will keep me parading through richness and good health until I graduate in four months.

I graduate in four months.

Dear god.