Continuity

Wow, what a weekend we had with MME this last week. We played to a pretty big crowd at the breezeway and our most faitful fans from the campus stopped into see how we were doing. The next night we went over to an underground producers house to play (His name's nathan day but he also goes by badger). I think it's the most fun I've had playing a show in what seems like a lifetime. I didn't know a lot of the people in the crowd personally but I felt like they were really into what we were doing. Some of them even heeded to my request and danced as much as possible during the songs.

It's the rush I live for, standing up there playing those songs, and I appreciate it to no end when some one is willing to give up any small amount of time and money to listen to us play. I never want to be a celebrity, but I don't know that I could live without the rush of performance. Looking into some one's eyes, or finding that one person you really hoped made it to the show can make the biggest difference in the world.

Despite this little quarter-life crises I seem to be trying to wedge myself through I'm finding a lot of help along the way. As always my incredible parents are still supporting me in my confusion, and I've been wanting to give back to them more and more lately. I guess it's all part of this getting older thing, learning how I can show them my appreciation without buying things. I have to get over some of the things I thought were entirely institutionalized when I was a kid.

Like I said, I'm having brief existential moments daily for some reason but I'm still planning on going ahead with my RPM. It's looking to be in the same style as last year's, with synth style drums, bass and rhythms but plastered with electric guitar and raw vocals to give it that actual wall of sound effect. I'm debating as to whether or not I'm going to try to feature a lot of people this year, but I suppose I'll figure that out as time progresses. Twinkee and Pricey are going head long into an RPM of their own, but I'll most definitely be recruiting their help when it comes to the sometimes tedious recording process.

If anyone was hoping for some of my usual beat down angst stuff you may be disappointed, I've been writing most of my lyrics during the day, and I'm specifically trying to counteract the predominant winter blues. Hopefully I'll get a couple of video blogs put together soon so some of you can hear some samples, but I'm definitely a lot more comfortable writing about it, so everyone make sure to keep stopping in to read the update!

I'll be seeing you soon,
Jeff

Shows/n/Such

I just got contacted by Gene Brown at the Levee here in St. john's, he asked me to put on a solo set next saturday night. I'm really excited to pull out some of the stuff I wrote a little while ago and haven't been playing with a band at all. There's a lot more than just that going on this week though!

Today Braeden, RG and I sat down to start putting together some new songs and talking about what we're doing with Make Mean Everything. This week alone we're doing our first real studio recording (With Bryce Smith from the band RocketRocketShip) and playing an acoustic set at MUN for a Sociology Mixer, going to be a blast. We've also got a few shows booked into february that we're collecting details on right now!

The RPM season is coming up and that means I'll have to go into full production mode, hopefully putting out my own compilation of acoustic material while helping out my buddy Michael-Price put out his first hip-hop album. Each of us are commiting to 10 organic unreleased songs to be released on the last day of February, so everybody keep your heads up for the recordings and video blogs as they come out! You've gotta keep up!

Working this weekend and a full week of school to begin tomorrow, time to put on my Economics hat for a little while and try to be an analyst!

-J

Ableton song list is getting long

I'm so excited that I got to sit down and sort out the pictures I got to take last week, and the songs I've had piling up in my .MIDI folder for ages. For a little while there I was losing confidence in my songwriting ability, just getting through the song-writing process.

It was around Christmas time that I started remembering all those times I would sit for a couple of hours with Adam Dincorn and try to find that one perfect harmony for something. It inspired me to start taking a couple of extra minutes with everything I've been writing so that every song will be concrete and flawless before I put it to record.

As much as I love Herman Li , I'm not going to improvise anymore.

I can't believe Make Mean booked two shows already, just small gigs, but gigs none the less. I'm really hoping we can all balance school and our favorite form of creation appropriately. February is RPM season, and I'm going to try to go into full production mode.

Complete efficiency. Pound for pound.

As long as I can keep up a good spirit and a normal diet I'll be up and running alright. Just running, and running and running and

The Rebirth

I've been writing music like crazy, lyrics and guitar, and I'll hopefully be releasing all of that with a few guest instruments, for purchase at some point in the next two months! Abby Cook has been gracious enough to provide me with some album art for my solo releases, so anyone eager to get their hands on some personal Abby Art will be able to do so by February.

I'm finding the writing process filled with positive emotions and energy so hopefully that will come through on the release. I've been dabbling in photography more and more every day, so maybe I'll arrange some sort of a photo shoot soon to get this blog looking a little more positive and modern like the approach I'm going to try to take for the release.

I'm just starting this blog up again, but I hope to get it rolling like it was not so long ago. Anyone who wants to look back and see what the blog was I encourage you to take a scroll through it's pages and see if you can dredge up some teenage angst (there's probably some pretty bad stuff in there).

I'm still studying Economics at Memorial University so besides sending posts and music I'll also be providing little bits of economic commentary to keep it from being consistently all about me and the music. If anybody has any ideas for artwork or recording collaborations get in touch with me whenever you can so we can hammer out all the little details pre-release.

Thanks so much for stopping in and reading, for all those of you who signed up for Google+ or have a Gmail account, I'm going to rig up a way to get any posts I make here sent directly to your e-mail or to your phone. I'll have details on that soon!
Keep in touch

I've made a decission

I keep trying to start blogging again because I have a couple upcoming releases. I figure maybe this will give me some idea of interest so I can get motivated to put out my video blogs in February during my insane writing and recording season.

If anyone needs a recap of what may have happened since I left Saint John it went a little like this:

I became a university student

Which in all it's glory has made me feel like growing up quite and bit and trying to get on with being a person as opposed to speculating on everything and writing about it. I'm a little more skilled at economics and a little less skilled at playing guitar, but I wouldn't say to any degree that affects song writing, I'd say more on the scale of guitar solos and self-indulgent playing.

I still enjoy music, very much, and try to surround myself with it at all times. I'm playing with a band called Make Mean Everything right now, and we're trying to get as much exposure as possible.
This whole casual blogging thing is probably going to fester into a full fledged overload of material about my life that people may have no interest reading. However, consider this a reintroduction to prose and opinion, the way I write it

BLOGDUCTIVITY 2

'The week is right out our back door so it's time to start making some agendas for the week to come.
First off, you've got a,  math quiz tomorrow, you're gonna wanna get on that.
Second, your comm studies stuff is looking alright.
Third, let's look at the time based schedule.

8:30am - The wake up

Alarm, pants, alarm, pants. If I don't go directly from the alarm clock to my pants I won't stay out of bed.

8:40am - Get out of the room

Just keep walking man, no obstacles stand in the way now.

Get some Sci- Cafe, danish and a coffee, just like old times

10:30am - Stats lab

It's just a tutorial. Not to say it's just a tutorial, but there's no quiz, don't freak.

11:45-ish: Meal Hall

Grab something fast, math quiz is coming up quick, only have about three hours to get three techniques down. No facebook no facebook no facebook.

12:00 - 3:00pm

Presumably studying. Take some time off to go to the store if you can, but otherwise you'll just have to do without. Pick up a pack of sunflower seeds this time. Those other ones went bad.

3:00pm

Math Lab, wussup.

Try to get to the gym after/before supper, because you have a comm studies meeting.

7:00pm - Comm studies meeting.

Tricia, Kerri, Heather, shout out.

That's it, throw down some free time. Tea probs.

PICTURE OF THE DAY:

WEEKEND TOP TEN

WEEKEND TOP TEN

SEQUENCE OF THE WEEKEND

BIG BOOTY BITCHES.

RATTLED.

BURSEY.

KAYLA FACE.

Blogductivity

Here's this new thing I'm trying, I'm gonna plot out tomorrow right now, so I don't have to spend a bunch of time thinking about and thus preventing myself from sleeping. Daily thing? I hope so.

8:30am: Wake up

Sci Cafe, danish and a coffee

9am: Math 2000 (Multivariable Calculus)

Bring your phone, but pay attention BUD.

10am: Song Writing sesh

Listen to some songs, reflect on them, try to come up with something in an hour

11:15am: Lunch daawwwg

Dining hall, grab a coffee, probs gym after

12:00noon: return from meal hall

Stop thinking about smoking before you go inside. You’re quitting.

Juice, shorts, sneakers, gym

~1:00pm: Get some serious heat on the shit awards template

2:00pm: Be a house president, go visit/annoy your residents.

Afternoon tasks to be completed: You’re going to have to look at your math homework a little bit, so get that out of the way first, trust me, you’ll thank yourself. Touch up that course load for next semester, eyeball a couple years ahead while you’re at it.

Here’s a new thing, and make sure it happens: Take a picture to be uploaded to this blog, this should happen every day. Picture of the day’s pretty cool.

Back to the Start

It's strange how things start to fit together. You're finding yourself begging for a small moment of relaxtion while you're technically still relaxing most of the time. Talking talking talking to people never used to be an issue. You loved it, craved it, needed that attention to be around you. Now you're teaching guitar for nostalgic value as opposed to the profit. But that doesn't mean you don't have much money. It seems that centers all of it.The money you have determines the quality of life is constantly lingering in limbo.

This isn't at all about the plus minus plus minus though, this used to be about simple things. Little instances being elaborated into grandoise images of my thought process. So let's kick back and talk about some simple things.

People, it's always about people people people, the way they act and look. The way they make themselves, treat themselves. It's all an elaborate puzzle. It's those people you make up stories for though. The people who get a nod from you in public, the one's you haven't said enough to. It's almost like you want to study the way they move. Their body language, the way they choose words. A short twitch of some muscle connected to the something or other nerve. I'm sure somewhere in the bio-psychology it all makes sense, but it's not that simple for me.

There's enough wondering about the closed books, but the open ones. Spread out on the floor. The ones who I talk to in detail with. The ones I miss. The neighbors who live down the street now instead of down the hall. It's a whole different dynamic, those close lasting relationships that were built are resetting, manifesting in the faces of all the small aquaintence nods. I'm almost close enough to consider myself lonely. Throwing myself into things, trying way too hard to get into some one's head. It's the way the air doesn't taste like home anymore that makes you miss people so close. It's the way you can't drive your car down to the beach and drink milkshakes and talk things out. It's the way she probably would've loved to be here. It's still the way the air doesn't taste like home.

At least you're coming to terms with what you're going to be. Something important, more than a peace of paper important. Maybe back to engineering or maybe into teaching. It's the way you can explain calculus in thirty seconds and have the person retain it. It's the honest talent of passing on how I learn so quickly with others. Maybe that's what I crave. Being a president, teaching people to survive here, that's how I can teach people to survive mathematics, equations. Numbers and music, the only words to me.

It's getting to the point of a ramble now. Sleep on it.

President

I'm sitting in my room, enjoying another cup of green tea before I pass out. I'll be waking up tomorrow at the usual time, ten minutes before class. Not getting up at 7:15, not going to the gym before class. I guess I'll do it later. Homework:not urgent, House Events: Steadily being planned, Green Tea: In full supply. Yeah, I'll have plenty of time later.

This is such a different life than four or five weeks ago. Routine is still in limbo and trying to figure out how to fit itself in appropriately. This means you have ample time to go meet these new exciting strange individual people. They know your name because of position. They know what house they live in, and where their loyalty lies. They genuinely want to know everyone else. This is what you have plenty of time for, going around and talking conversing trading information. It's overbearing sometimes, when there's such thin ice to make assumptions. Needless to say, me and my "craving attention" complex are both quite content.

You're still friends with the friends that were friends last year, and you talk to them enough, keeping up appropriately. They've surrounded you, but there's some new fervor of social interaction. You never realize who's exactly like you until you start asking everyone. That's what one of my first years taught me, he unconditionally introduced himself to any individual he happened to be near enough. It was almost incredible to watch, the process repeating itself. A benevolent approach working every time. This allowed me to expand my horizons.

It's like I live in a tv show when it's political time. All the house executives living in this sort of drama, wrapped up in the flooding of first years. This got broken that got broken this guy put his head through a window. All stories creating the perfect setting for a television reality show. We're out here, not getting any real benefits for being the "ring - leaders", risking our rooms every day. Naturally we're the protagonists in this television plot.
We could be personified as perfect beautiful people with flawless histories. No scars to make bigger stories about.

Sorry, don't wanna go back to preaching fatalism or anything. (Chuck Palaniuk to a number on me.)

Anyway my condition of life is perfect right now. I like the chaos of it. It's like an excuse to just run frantically and stir up everything you can for at least a week or so. Then when it all settles in, no one walks away any different. Is that weird?

Construction Work

I've got about two weeks left of construction work. Of moving dirt from point a to point b in different forms. I hate to say it, but I've learned quite a bit.

THINGS I LEARNED THIS SUMMER:

-> How to shovel, rake, and sweep dirt in many different ways
-> How to attach and detach different things to a back hoe.
-> The names of several pieces of equipment required to move dirt to point b from point a.
-> That even people with degrees have to work 12 hour days, or more.

There are probably more, they just don't seem to come to mind right now. Let's look at some other things I've been thinking about, as long as I feel like a minimalist.

THINGS I'M GOING TO DO FIRST SEMESTER:

-> Gym every day
-> Pool a couple times a week
-> Quit smoking
-> Be a good house president
-> Raise my GPA 0.2 points.
-> Find a good girl to marry.

A think it's a humble list, considering I have four months to accomplish all of this. Now, let's look at some things, while I'm on the topic of lists, that I consider to be good practices of a good house president of a good house.

THINGS A PRESIDENT SHOULD DO:

-> Get underagers drunk
-> Get people who prefer not to drink to be included
-> Drink responsibly
-> Provide a good example
-> Lead proudly
-> Drink less than four times a week
-> Drink twice a week
-> drink...
-> drink...

Everything seems to be surrounded by alcohol to me. This isn't good, so I'm going to come right up front and admit that I believe a university house president has to be all about liquor. This is wrong wrong wrong, and this me recognizing it. I guess this means I'm going to have REALLY figure out what this is all about.

THINGS I HAVE TO DO AS A PERSON:

-> Stop obsessing over fame
-> Use Dan Mangan as an example
-> Marry Steph Pike
-> Be less self-concious
-> Work on your addictive personality.

I feel like I'm making one of those drunk phone calls to myself, reminding myself what myself did in myselve's drunker stupor. Someday I'm going to look back and this and remember how motivated I can be in my time's of strength.

I think I'm going to start writing techno drums to record acoustic guitar and vocals over. Potheads will love it.

When I die

When I die, I want my tombstone to read...

I don't know what it is about this place. It's like there's no potential to grow into anything culturally. I'm stuck in this place. I'm Saint John fodder, home grown, home eaten. I'll probably go to school, four years of learning, four years of growing. Then I'll get a job with the government. Good pension, good health care, good dental care. Denchers at 50, the kinda thing people dream about.

There aren't a lot of venues. There aren't a lot of artists that decide to put themselves out there. I've led a very dramatic and public life so far, just so I can get a tombstone with no ending on it. That's what I want.

I want my tombstone to read, Jeff Cook 1991 - ????

It's like I've tried everything. I've put some back bone into every form of expression I can, and it's almost like it doesn't matter. I just haven't found the right way to speak. I play music, I drew things when I was younger, I've written since I could hold a pencil, and I'm even thinking of making a film. This is what I do, I live publically, so that when I die, I can get something on my tombstone. Something real special, that reads like I never actually died. So that all the things I made public are still going to move on when I'm rotting in the ground.

Jeff Cook, 1991 - ????,  May he live on

He live on

He lives on

Something catchy like that. Some people passing by will think that it was a typographical error. The people at the tombstone making factory forgot to ctrl-A backspace key. That kind of thing. The people that knew me, or those that decided to read this will understand a little more clearly. It'll be like my final aspiration. It'll be like the album I never released, the film I never put out, the poem I never got published. But this time, it'll actually work. It'll live on. The one thing that time will take hundreds of years to completely wear away.

Thing about construction work is, you gain a whole new respect for how durable rocks are.

I seem to be spending less and less time on music. I seem to be spending more and more time with shovels. It's the other side of this whole dream of mine. If I want to give up on the reassurance of the put on my tie everyday and go do math in a building, then I may have to spend a lot of time with dirt and shovels. I may have to spend less time with the band I want to be in. I may have to spend less time with the people I love.

Thing about construction work is, you get a lot of face time with gravel.

There's an incredible feeling inside me that I'm meant for something bigger than all of this. Maybe it's because I talk about it so much, or try so damn hard to be the best at something. I thought that maybe if I did just like momma told me, got good grades, went to school, stayed away from hard drugs, I might be able to get my dreams to come true. There's something about that that's flawed. To make my dream come true I'd have to work work work and do less time procrastinating. To work on music, you have to have a band, and a lot of time and a lot of paper and a lot of pens pencils crayons sheet music. This means you need money. As dad said, in order to exist in this life, you need money. To get money, you work construction.

The thing about construction work is, you learn how to beat things mercilessly into the ground in all sorts of ways. You're still going to be the doormat in your next relationship.

I live in the maritimes, and I don't like hockey. I live in the maritimes and I don't particularly enjoy sports. I live in the maritimes and I was never exposed to any sort of art culture until I took it upon myself and met some people who played these things called guitars. Your parents are going to think you want to play sports, are going to think you want to be sydney crosby, are going to think you'll want to be Gretzky. Don't blame them, all the other kids want that, and not a guitar. It's still 1998, and rockband hasn't been released yet.

The thing about meeting life-time construction workers is, you start to realize that there's a balance between having nice things, and having time to appreciate those nice things.

The thing about construction work is, you're the sun's best friend. You wake up with it, you go to bed with it. You're the sun's girlfriend. You cook it breakfast, you great it with your morning cigarette. You spend lunch under it, and you're just a little bit glad when it sneaks away for an afternoon so you can beat off to the idea that you might get off early.

I'm sorry about all of this. I just want to get all of this off my chest. I just want to be famous. Anyway, when you walk by my tombstone now, you'll know why it says what it does!

Walt; the learn'd astronomer

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;	5
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars. It's when I see something like this, or hear about something like this, that my firm belief of never being a scientist of some sort really takes it's hold. I confine myself in the safe learnings of whatever whatever so I can maybe some day have a stable income for a family. Something like that. Little fence. Little feet. Painted yard. Painted house. Little house. Little neighborhood. Little dreams. It's like you watch it from afar when you think about these things. It's not something I necessarily want to settle for, but it wouldn't be so bad. Still, I'd like to keep the aspiration of being an active family man at least on the back burner so I have some inkling of believing I'll be a musician some day. I've grinded away at this for years. Honing my talents, spreading my name, keeping up a facade per say so that some day my reach might extend into the echelons of the stars. Fame doesn't even matter at this point. I know it sounds radical, but all I want is a shitty apartment and a band who'll play for me. This is all I want, yet it's too much to ask. I spend hours a day looking for new music to listen to, looking for something new and exciting to worship with my ears. It's the buzzing and the static of new music that frustrates me most. I just want to get out there, I want to hear my own music, plastered across the lobes of youth and old alike. It's all I want to do. My piece will play a part in this. I will not be forgotten that easily. I don't want to be talked about in the past tense anymore. It's all these quotes and phrases that I steal from others that embody exactly how I feel. Here I go whining about the same thing again, two blogs in a row, I'm on a roll. I think it's this city that does it to me. The wasting away music scene. The dying demographic. The wasted talent. The apathy the apathy the apathy. No one gives a fuck anymore. Everyone can feel free to show your support, yet you can't come to the shows anymore. It's too much for you to do to go see a band who doesn't have one of your personal friends in it. It's too too too much, but maybe it's our own greed causing this. Maybe we have to reach out a little bit further. Maybe that's all we have to do to get the ears of the greedy to listen, and relent. Maybe that's what I'll do. I'll start so humble I'm barely alive musically. I'll hand out CDs, won't ask any price at all. Make capital investments. It's all I want, is to be heard. I could care less about the support right now, or the financial out put. Maybe I can just throw my music and people and hope a few of them catch on, a few of them enjoy it just enough to listen again. Anyway, I'm sure I'm burning ears off at this point. BYE

"What are you doing next semester?"...

"I'm taking computer science, with a minor in pure math."

"What are you gonna do with that?"

"Probably try for a double major if I can, go to grad school for my master's in math. They pay good at google and IBM for people like that."

"As long as you're doing something that makes you happy."

"Honestly..."

Sometimes, we just wait for something to come to us. Sometimes we sit and sit and wait. We just make up little excuses, build bridges, take the other way around. I've never been good at taking risks. Sometimes we sit and and we sit and we watch. Sometimes we let other people act out the risks we'd love to take ourselves so that we can become satisfied by association. It's like watching some one fuck the celebrity you've always had a crush on. The primal grunts and thrusts, that would be you, if you had it your way, but you still get off knowing it happened at all. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we wait.

We make up excuses and never do exactly what it is we want to do because there's only the radicalists telling us we should do that. Sometimes I don't bother to spell check, because I like to think it makes me seem more "pure" in my words. Sometimes we sit and we sit and call people stupid. Then they do something, and they mess up and sometimes they sit and they sit but then they get up and try again.

"If I could take that fifty thousand dollars I'm going to invest in university, and put it into touring with a band, I think I would be a lot happier, even if I didn't make it."

"But when you've got your education, you can fall back on something. Let that debt sit there, nothing's going to happen to it."

"But that's not how the natural progression goes. You learn, and you go to school, and then you work for the rest of your life."

"Just get an education."

Sometimes we listen and we listen and we don't hear anything at all. We don't hear the few people telling us to fucking do something. They're screaming in our bleeding ears to do what you love to do, and all we can do is listen to the cut that you were forced from on that day you celebrate every year. They know best best best. They know best best best. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we fucking keel over and die. Eighty years later. This is after you get to work, and contribute to a dying economy, and be proud of what you did while you're sitting in front of your nine hundred inch LCD screen. This is you sitting.

Oh god, the excuses. No one wants to hear my music. I don't have the time. I don't have the money. I don't have the talent. I don't have the connections. I don't have the scene. I don't I don't I don't. I sit and sometimes I sit and I sit and I wait. Nothing is EVER going to come out of me just doing nothing but for some reason that's all I do.

My aspirations are as follows.

-> go to school

-> Work for the rest of my life

This is all I seem to have any motivation to do. And you couldn't even call it that. There's no room in there for dreams. I think I just have to face it. Face the music. Curtain's closing. My dreams would've started and ended if I'd only taken a risk. A risk I should've taken in the youthful momentum provided by graduation.

This is the gratification you get from sitting and sitting and enjoying your favorite bands more than anyone else, because they're famous, and because everyone loves them like you want to.

You work and you work and you go to school and you work and you work and the world keeps turning. This what you do when you grow up. I can now consider myself an adult, because I have come about the realization that dreams don't exist anymore because I can't stop sitting.

Goodnight.

formspring.me

Will do calculus for entertainment: http://formspring.me/g3tmoneyg3tpaid

Little Things

"Please take care of yourself, was the last thing I said, right before the operator made us disconnected"

If I could take one moment, and digest it, fully and completely, it would take away from every emotion that moment was. It's why I over analyze sometimes, it's why I talk too much sometimes, it's why we all think think think before we say something, it makes it so broken down and thought over that there's really no emotion left anymore, and we don't have to feel so different when it's gone.

It's why I pick out the small things. It's why I want to just appreciate everything for exactly what it is.

"I never want some one to become a photograph stapled to a memory."

It's all those little things that make up exactly who a person is, and what something is and where a time starts and exactly where it ends. This isn't over analyzing to get rid of emotion, this is knowing all the small things before you prepare yourself to take it all in again at once, brand new, but so familiar. It's why I love that mole on your neck. I can't really elaborate on this, or give an analogy, but think of a movie you love so much, that you want to share with everyone else. You know all the best lines, all the best parts, all the frames where something so small happens that only you've recognized it. This feels good, to see it again, with more people, because it's so familiar to you, to brand new, and different in so many ways.

This is why we like to know all the words to our favorite songs. This is why I love the way your eyes look when you say certain things.

I can't say I don't miss some things. When I say things for example, all the thoughts get so jumbled that I'll leave something out. You get pure, raw, word. It's all I can say, and it's the only linear progression I can make of the thoughts in my head. This is why sometimes I say things I don't really mean. It comes out in the wrong order, and it comes out sounding like something completely different.

I want to give  body to everything in my life. I little weight to everything that happens, so I'll really remember it. Give something a name that doesn't have a name. I want everything I do, to have a more profound purpose than the outward appearance. Use metaphors instead of analogies. I just want to have everything in brighter color. High definition. Set my corneas to 1080p, continue with my day.

This is why I love the words you use, that I've never had said to me before.

This is why foreign languages are more mysterious to me than anything else I've ever encountered. They could be beautiful, smooth syllables, rolling of the tongue of a gentle soul, but they could mean the most horrible terrible things. They could have the girth and crisp bite of a crashing sea, but the only words spoken could be a semantic hand of gratitude and kindness. You don't get to experience things like that holing yourself up, bleeding into ignorance.

This is why I like to see you out of the corner of my eye, because it's another image of you I can add to the collage.

This is why with the changing day, we as human beings change so much. In the morning you lead your silhouette, pushing yourself forward into the afternoon, when you're completely alone, making the choices to fill out your day or simply look back and wait. This is why at night your shadow follows you, and reminds you exactly how you've lived your day. Haunting or praising you for everything that's happened in the last hours of your life.

This is why I sometimes wonder if you've ever been talked about this way before.

When some one loses all the little things, they become an object. A stamp that you place on every experience you have with them, so you can mail it into the past. No return address. It makes them into the orchid on a burning coffin, cast into the effervescing mist of an ocean. It burns a single shade of waving orange, until finally it ends. This is what people become when they become objects in this way. You have to pick the small things out, watch people's eyes, or you'll miss it, all of it the next day.

This is why I wish I looked at myself. Picked out the little things with me. Picked out all the excuses I use to keep myself standing still. Out there, somewhere, in the dark, is my dream of being a musician. An author. A poet. A politician. but I keep holding myself still, with the dramatic edge of my life. The little paring knife that I keep twirling around in front of me. It's the idle threat that taking a step forward might leave me without a toe. I read something tonight, that spoke of a disaster, marking the end of our metaphysical youth. We're always sitting, waiting, and not moving forward. Preparing ourself for that disaster that'll stop us from ever moving forward at all. Maybe it'll be a relief.

This is why I remember the words you say.

This is why I remember the words I say.

This is why it's so hard to sometimes come back and try again. Try to take that dive again. Because we'll always remember the little things. We all just need some one to cover that canvas again, to record that tape, and to playback something original. Something you spend so much time picking apart, only to relive again. Brand new.

Did you know?

"When I was spat onto the earth in a stream of guts, by mother nature, that green eyed slut,"

It's crazy to think how far we've come as a people. As an entire race of human beings. If we could track back to the earliest traces of DNA when no one could look at the sun without sneezing (it was mother nature's way of scolding us for burning our corneas out of our skulls) we'd see just how far we've come. Besides or resources falling out from under us, and Einstein being proven more and more wrong with each scientific advancement, we've actually turned ourselves into a very informed and cyclical society. One big society, where the executive throw missiles at each other over the board table that is the Atlantic Ocean.

Even though Newton figured out exactly how everything falls, how fast the earth pulls us back into it's core, he could've never assumed that people would be wiring their cars and speeding towards a solid brick wall.

If a suicide bomber drives east toward a small Palestinian trade shop going 50km/hr with a constant acceleration of 3.0m/s, and he has 15 meters to cover before contact, how many years will it take for the religious conflict to resolve itself?

Newton may have been incredibly intellegent, as a matter of fact, he's probably the only person that truly understood the ENTIRE physical world we live it, but he could never have created a constant, or an integration technique to hold up the failing morals of mankind. We're in a horrible downward spiral, yet at the same time, all the money works out, and no one gets hurt over here if we all behave and act like good little consumers.

Find the area bounded between the curve y = 3(lnx)^2/x and y + x = 36, from conception to the point of moral degradation.

I wish I could make more sense of all of it, but it seems like the more math and science I read about, and the more I learn about our economy, the less faith I have in us ever pulling our heads out of our asses and churning some compassion out. It takes roughly 19 years for global savings and global spending to cancel each other and bring the world economy back to equilibrium, negating inflation or recession. So long as we're well behaved little consumers.

If Johnny is walking east at 2.0m/s and Jessica is walking north at 1.8m/s, at what rate is their friendship  going from being close confidants to awkward acquaintances? Part b, solve for the rate at which the distance is increasing. Compare the ratio, have an epiphany, call your mother and tell her you love her.

It's not that I'm unhappy with my current state of life. I'm doing really well for myself, and I like that, so I bitch about the quality of life in other places in the world. Why be upset about my life when I can be upset about some one else's and make everyone else aware of it. If you massage the upper region of the heel's plantar, you can put some one into the throes of a seismic orgasm. 6 on the Richter. Who gives a fuck about potable water in Africa.

If Peter raises his fist to beat his girlfriend (Jenny), and his fist and forearm collectively weigh __kg, and a moment of 15N*m/s is applied to the joint at the base of his elbow, how long will it take Jenny's parents to discover the bruises on their daughter?

Sometimes I listen to this song, it's by The Sound of Animals Fighting, and it says, "I would write beautiful songs about horrible things." and I feel like that's how I am right now.

"No there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches"

I just want to reach out, and disturb some one with my lyrics right now. I think I'll take that to the table when I start writing for the summer. I'll write something ironic, but within a metaphor, it's chilling.

Here it goes again

The hints were true and the letters fit. It wasn't a catastrophe to ask the question. Who knows, maybe this is too soon, a lot of people will tell you that and you'll have to stand up for yourself again but that's all okay. You're young, and you want to explore all of this golden heart. There's just so much to know, so many questions, and so many answers. You've got the same background of doormats and leashes, so you know that it's not going to be the same. You hope it won't be the same.

Could this be right? It's going to be four months apart right from the beginning and you have no idea why but you're more ready for that than you've ever been. It's going to be like that little suspension period, where the smallest things will be so important. You could talk every night, and you plan to, it's natural for you. There won't be any dates, and there won't be any real personal intimate stares. It'll be hard, but that's alright, this is all worth it. You've managed to figure that much out already. K.G.'s behind you as far as you know, and that means more than any other words could.

Being home is going to be different this time. In your eyes Saint John is going to be music and shows and adventure. It's not going to be the constant pursuit of social acceptance, it's going to be a pursuit of micro-fame and slight wealth. Your band is more important to you right now than anything else in your life. If only you could get it off the ground. You're good, you're good enough to get a long long way with a little tenacity. You know this because of some of the bands you saw play this year. They're just kids with a dream, and they're seeking it out the way that you've wanted to your entire life.

How would everything turn out? If you just dropped this education and played in that band that you're going to dedicate the next five months of your life to. That's half a year, that's enough time to do so many things. Some blessing would be so good, some dedication from everyone else would be wonderful. This is going to be good.

I'm sorry I've been so brief lately, but these are my thoughts of the day.

No matter how far

Sitting in English class, learning about MLA, learning about syntax that no longer interests you. You left all that behind when you read fight club. You like Paliniuk format much better. Jump around. Tell a story. Be a narrator. It was something in a clockwork orange that you liked about Alex too, he talked to you, and you liked him very much.

"Amen and all that cal."

And then Alex was gone.

It's alright to think of things like this when you're pondering syntax, but there are much more pressing matters at hand, pressing matters that you'd like a little bit of advice on. It may be a little bit vague.

See there's some one, and you don't know if it's right. See there's some one, and you're not sure if it's all there for the right reasons, or if it's all even there and tangible at all. This is what you wish you knew. Do you act on impulse and try to figure out the situation all by yourself, or do you poke little questions, and try to see if you're right at all? It would be so wrong, it would be a catastrophe if you were wrong, and you poked little questions. But if you were right, what if you were right? What may come would still be delayed, so very very delayed, but at this point you know what a wait is and more often than not a wait has put you in a very very lonely place. That's usually a different kind of wait though, let's start over.

You're a rationalist. Cup's not half empty, cup's not half full, the cup's the wrong size for the water inside of it. You read that on a shirt once, and decided it was quite fitting for the way you think. The world is changeable, and it's changeable at your finger tips. So what do you do? There are words everywhere, but there's meaning sitting at the bottom of some well somewhere twinkling up at a sky you may never be under. In part, if you're wrong, that's okay, it can be fixed, and everything can go back to being just the way it was. You both understand exactly what would happen, and neither of you know if that can happen at all.

Nothing can happen, as a matter of fact.

This is all mishmash, but god knows. We'll pick this up some other time.

He's relied on this for years

I've never considered myself to be an overly spiritual person. I don't go to church every sunday, I don't kneel down in front of my bed every night to throw my words up to my patron deity, but for some reason I expect some form of protection and respect from whatever it is lingering around up there. I'm sheltered, and I'm not ashamed to say that. My life's been coated in luck and facility.

I've never given any body to my luck, it's just sort of been there. I could throw myself into traffic with all the confidence in the world, and I could fill my body with toxins and not expect the smallest set back. Maybe this is the invincible youth that I think I have. I'm walking a tightrope and hoping that I don't some day fall off. Do you brace yourself for those things? Do you consider the consequences to your actions? Or is it more your own selfish way of living that lets you just get by being content with your present state.

I try to give things up to people. My ear, or my shoulder, or my words. I figure that might be my way of giving back to God. I know this probably sounds really weird to all of you, that I'm suddenly spitting words about Christianity, but I take so much for granted. Some day, I'll be at the bottom of the barrel, no where to go but up, and the first place I'll turn is to those subconscious thoughts of an invisible savior. Maybe that's why I believe, because I see people who have nothing left crawling on their knees and asking for forgiveness. It's almost like, they believe in Him because there's nothing else left to believe in.

It gives me reason enough to throw up my own hands. I feel I've been blessed with something. Blessed with a lot of things. I'm a fatalist, and I'm a rationalist, and I'm a scientist, but I don't know why that has to stop me believing that there's some pinky finger of a God up there jostling fate in one direction or the other. When Rutherford shot an atom at a piece of gold foil, he observed alpha particles reflected on a photo luminescent sheet. Some of the alpha particles hit the sheet infront of the gold foil, light propelled backward. This was the experiment that gave birth to some of the radical multi-verse theories that exist today. There are infinite possibilities to each given decision, and each of those possibilities give birth to another parallel universe. How could something so incredible, so perfect have ever happened, if there wasn't something pulling strings out there.

I watched Edward Norton's Leaves of Grass a couple of days ago. He talked about God in the way mathematicians talk about parallel lines. In theory, two parallel lines will continue on infinitely without ever coming into contact with each other. This is something man could never see, or create himself. A true natural parallel will never exist, yet we base our numbers and our theories off the basis that it is there, and that it is perfectly possible.

Maybe it's because the sun didn't come out today, or maybe it's because I have a lot to do and no idea when I'll find the chance to do it because of my other obligations. Maybe that's why I feel religious today.