Does it cease to be defined as lonliness if it's all you know?

Tonight's encounter was with a sweet, pretty girl named Jessica that I relieved at the Periodicals desk because it was time for her to go home for the night. I've only talked to her once before and she seemed warm and magnetic, but it wasn't like we had hit it off from the beginning or anything like that.  I say hello and smile and ask how she has been. Tame enough. While talking to her, I see that there is a coffee mug on the desk. Naturally, I ask if it is hers, in case she had forgotten it.

"NO, it's my boyfriend's"

Well, to the outsider, this may not seem like much, in fact, it may seem like nothing. And taken by itself at face value, perhaps it isn't. But it is significant to me because it happens without fail that every single freaking time that I meet a girl, they must pontificate the fact that they are spoken for romantically, regardless of the fact that I never asked or cared to know. EVERY TIME. This has happened to me at least three times in the last month. It's like they have to cut me off at the pass that I haven't even attempted to approach. The only thing that seemingly varies is the location. The sheer repetition of this process leads me to assume that they are trying at once to reaffirm and make abundantly clear that any conversation or greeting or any sort of communication between myself and them is and always will be completely platonic. And every single time, it makes me feel like the annoying, preadatory, stereotypical nerd trying to get in there with any girl that will acknowledge his presence. And it never fails to make me feel even more frustrated and discouraged than before. It's been more than three years since I had any sort of relationship, much less a meaningful one. I've tried my best to figure out what is so offputting and unappealing about myself, apparently to no avail. And every passing day, I feel more removed from that world, and it gets nigh impossible to even conjure up one memory of what it was like to be something that a girl looked at and didn't offer up some sort of disclaimer. And despite my effort, that sort of feeling is nowhere to be found on the horizion. There is something in me that sends their eyes elsewhere. And at some point one can't help but wonder if this may never change.

I'm sorry, I hate whining about things on here, especially things pertaining to the topic discussed above. Nobody wants to read that. And I'm sorry I don't post in here more, it's just been a long time since I've written anything that I am happy with. Someday I will learn how to properly complete a thought.

I promise the next post will be better. Have a good night.    

There is a world that exists apart from this one. I tend to enter this world somewhere between the hours of 12-3am every night, if I'm lucky. In my 22 years of travels into this area of subconscious (19 of which I can somewhat recall), I have experienced some of the greatest feelings, the most gruesome traumas, highest highs and lowest lows. It is a world that can be at once exhilirating and frightening and subtle. The landscapes vary, but mostly include slight variations of the world I live in, as if a mirror is reflecting the images that I  process and digest in a day's time, causing the arcitecture of my vision to be somewhat skewed yet fascinating, as if a slight adjustment to the apature of my eyesockets is being made. Things that are impossibly, hopelessly silly and complicated on this side of the spectrum make perfect sense there. Buildings, towns, situations and circumstances that are not present in the world I share with you are not only present, but commonplace in the world I experience alone. And, truth be told, I sometimes wish that I could stay in this utopia. Sure, fear and depression and pain exist here, but the tradeoff to experience a prolonged stay in a world where all the sentiment, passion, love, excitement and wit that I can muster up is clear as day rather than hazy and indecipherable as with this world is well worth it. A world where I could actually talk to the girl and have her respond without reservation, where I could jump off the cliff, where I could survive driving off of a bridge, where I could subsequently host a cookout under said bridge, where the potential exists for greatness and sensory overload and love and fear and all of the other things that remind you that have a pulse....who wouldn't want to live there. Am I to assume that this world is nonexistent just because it cannot be found on any map? Should I realize how silly and idealilstic these following ramblings are? Am I to believe that there is no substance or merit to a destination that can only be reached by closing one's eyes?

Disregard the last post if you please....

So, during the course of doing my show at WRFL, I came upon an album that presently owns me. The album is "Lunatic Harness" by Mu-ziq, and it has singlehandedly reminded me why I love electronic music. I cannot recommend this album enough if you are looking for something completely different, new, and exciting. And what blows my mind is, as forward thinking as this album is, it was released in 1997, SEVEN freaking years ago!
But anyway, this got me to thinking about electronic music in general, and how amazing and affecting some of the music can be if given a chance. The problem is, few people seem to want to give it a chance. I can't begin to tell how many times I have suggested an artist to someone just to have them flat out shut me down, claiming "I don't listen to that kind of stuff." Okay, fair enough, I say, although I consider their approach to be a bit narrow-minded, different strokes for different folks. However, the reasoning most frequently offered up to defend their decision to close themselves off to an entire genre of music infuriates me to no end. Most always, the next sentence to escape their vocal column after "I don't listen to that kind of stuff" is "it's not really music" or "it dosen't take any talent" or "those people aren't real musicians" or some variation of the same ilk.
To this, I say "who are you to say what is and isn't music?" Well, truth be told, I am never that ballsy or succinct in my retort, but that is pretty much where I come out on the situation. And what surprises me more than anything is that, most of the time, the response above is given to me by an individual who has either been in a band or plays gituar. Now, to be fair, I am absolutely clueless when it comes to playing gituar, so I have no basis for judging the mindset of gituarists other than what I have encountered. But some (by no means all) of these folks are about as elitist as they come when it comes to their attitudes on various types of music, especially electronic music. These guys are the originators of the attack statements above, and this always takes me aback, because I just automatically assume that an artist would, if not appreciate artistry in it's other forms, at least recognize it in a quid pro quo type of manner. But this just isn't the case.  They speak of the genre as if it is somehow less legit, less creative, and that the artists are in no way talented, just because they chose another medium with which to express themselves artistically. It's hard to imagine that Pablo Picasso would have gone up to Frank Lloyd Wright and called him out for constructing his art forms from the ground up rather than practicing the conventional method of applying paint to a canvass in order to make an artistic statement and claimed that he was a fraud because he used pre-existing materials in order to build his masterpiece. Then the question remains: why are these people so short-sighted? Is it some sort of inferiority complex, based on their inability to cope with the fact that they are finding the basic instruments such as gituar, bass, and drums are not elitist and exclusive, but actually somewhat accessable? Which begs the question: is the true essence and artistic nature of the music in the finished project or the means by which it is achieved? I would like to think it is both. 4 out of 5 gituarists don't seem to agree.

end rant
 

This is the last post on the laundry list in it's current form. I dunno, I just don't have the confidence in writing that I once had. Plus, asthetically there just isn't a whole lot going on here. I will leave this up just in the off chance that someone wishes to read it, which I seriously doubt will happen.
 
 

So, as the title page would suggest, I am going to be re-working this site in the next few days. I hope to have it done by Thanksgiving. I'm not sure how far I am going with this, it could involve anything from putting some new backgrounds on to completely obliterating the site and starting again from scratch. It all depends on how much time I have and whether or not I am inspired to do so. And I think we can all agree that this site in it's current form is anything but inspired. Actually, this part of the site is the only part I may leave alone, I just need to post more. I apologize for neglecting to update, but the last month has included so much forced writing on my part that the last thing in the world that I have had the urge to do is sit down and collect my thoughts.

Can anyone ever truly collect their thoughts? I know I can't. Sometimes I wonder how people do it; how they recall feelings and emotions and situations that they have experienced down to the most minute detail. I absolutely cannot do this. I don't know if it's just that I have a million different thoughts racing through my cortex per second, and I never seem to be able to organize these in a concsise, legible manner suitable for consumption en masse. I have trouble even rememebering what I have been through each day. Also, I just don't have the sort of life that provides adaquate fodder for daily posts, or at least daily posts that would be worth anyone's time to read. I can't help thinking that my brain, my personality, and my future is just one gigantic jigsaw puzzle and that I will spend my allotted time on this earth struggling to find the corner pieces to this puzzle, so that I might be able to begin to decipher what lies within, what the puzzle represents, all the time hoping that an image bewildering in it's sheer significance will be revealed at the end of my days, and that somehow this menagarie of jumbled impulses will have brought some sort of understanding that made the time spent in heavy analysis worthwile. Knowing my luck though, it will probably just end up being some beingn pop culture reference, just some hackneyed advertisement for Ovaltine.

the stars have been beautiful lately. go out and look for yourself if you don't believe me.

It's always going to be that way, I guess.

And in the broad view, I suppose it's a small price to pay. At least that's what I like to tell myself. But it's a choice, one that I made many years ago and have stuck to, even though many times I feel like I am just taking up their space until such time that they grow tired of my presence. The truth is that I guess I'm just not fun enough to be around. That's okay, that much I can get over. I'm better, clearer, more productive, more likely to succeed, what have you. However, those sentiments, appealing as they may be when in the context of one's description of self, do little to quell the thirst, the longing for just someone, anyone, anything with which I speak the same language. Past and present experiences don't point to a promising future in that respect.
But I'll get over it, I always manage to.
The feelings will pass, they always do.
Yet as certain as they are to pass, they are just as sure to eventually return.
Even as I type these words I harbor doubt as to their contniuity.

It is on this note that a week I shall not soon forget comes to a merciful end.
Godspeed to all.

Elliott Smith killed himself this week.

Sadly enough, I was preparing to go back home to go to a high school friend's funeral when I heard this.

Two other people I knew have died in the last month.

The truth is that I wan't incredibly close to any of these people. As sad as I am that they are gone, I don't know how to process all of this.

All I can think of is that I don't know how I would have made it through the isolation and lonliness I went through last winter without Elliott Smith's album "Either/Or." My friend Casey has a very similar experience with his album "XO."

And every time I think about Seth's incredibly cynical sense of humor and the "basket weaving" incident, it brings a smile to my face.

And how the back and forth banter between Jack and my dad made working every day this summer just a little bit more bearable.

And how happy Brian seemed to make Mary.

And that is how I choose to remember this month.

Well, my car decided to break down on me, so I missed the Pedro the Lion show tonight. Just like I missed the Yo La Tengo and Mogwai shows last week. Which is just like how I missed the Built to Spill and My Morning Jacket shows the week before that. Maybe someday I will get to go to a show again, but by that time I'm sure my taste in music will have gone to crap like it inevitably does as one enters their 50's.

Baseball offically rules again. Both the Braves and the Giants are out of the playoffs, and if the Yankees, by some minute chance, are eliminated as well, it will make me very happy. Stock up on your canned goods and bottled water, though, because if the Cubs and Red Sox are in the world series, we will see armageddon regardless of who wins. And as a Reds fan, it pains me to say this, but Mark Prior may be the best pure pitcher the league has seen in 20 years.

I'm getting a bit better at this whole photography thing, and I think I'm going to start posting pictures on this site again. The output will not be as frequent as in the past, because I am shooting on film rather than in digital, but it's better than nothing I suppose.

I seem to have finally gotten over my crippling 2 week long addiction to Sonic The Hedgehog. It's funny, I have a big, shiny X Box sitting adjacent to my television, with it's ballyhooed power and amazing graphics and sound, yet I find myself coming back to the old, dusty Sega Genesis and it's 16 bits of goodness. But at least the Sonic infatuation is over.

So if you'll excuse me, I need my Street Fighter II fix. HA-DO-KEN!!!!!

Still alive...

The last month has been pretty crazy, culminating in last week which mentally, emotionally, and physically beat me into the ground. That is why there haven't been any updates in a month. I usually update this at night, and lately I've needed the sleep. So I'm sorry this thing has been ignored, and I'm sorry to the people I've lost touch with in the last month. We'll catch up, I promise.

The radio show is going as well as I could hope. The girls who deliver the news now on my show are actually a big help to me with affecting my state of mind and my mood that early in the morning. Big ups to Lily and Ally and the rest (I promise I will remember your names soon). It still kind of sucks that I have less time now, but whatever, I often doubt anyone listens anyway.

My photojournalism class is injecting 20cc's of unnecessary stress into my life right now. I am so far behind that it is making me feel a sort of helplessness that I had previously reserved only for math classes. Taking pictures used to be fun, but now the process always seems to be mired in a sea of despair and mediocrity.

Other than that, my classes are going fine, so much so that I have been able to pick up a job for the first time in a year. As much as work sucks, I feel like this job will take up some of the dead time that I have had an abundance of lately. Dead time gives me more time to think. More thinking tends to put me on edge and make me depressed at times, which is no good at all. Not to diminish the importance of thought, because I think some of my best understanding of life (or at least my life) has been achieved in the last year, much of which I have spent alone and idle. However, sometimes it's just good to merely go out and feel and leave the personal scrutiny of every situation at home. Besides, consant analysis only serves to make one constantly anal.

So until I can collect and organize my thoughts a little better, I bid you a pleasant night.

Between watching the VMA's (a. 50 Cent is playing, screw you for judging me....and b. it's trainwreck TV, baby) and seeing a number of the "hip" guys (and girls) around campus, something occured to me that I thought I should clear up. So indulge me for a second..

Hey you, yeah, the kid in the mesh trucker hat. Yeah, that hat rules, dosen't it? Well,  I hate to break it to you, but that hat dosen't quite make you as unique and edgy as you think. In fact, do you know that us skateboarders have been rocking the mesh hesh caps for about ten years now? It's okay, it's not the first time you've taken a belated fashion nod to those guys who you only like when it's cool to like them, and of course, whey they fall and break something. Remember raver gear? Chain Wallets? Dickies work pants? Independent truck co. clothing? Jackass? It's quite alright, really. The skateboarding population has already moved on, and should have something new for you whenever you're ready. Besides, trucker chic was so 30 minutes ago, right?

I should have some pics up in the near future. Stay tuned.

greatest song ever at the moment: "Atmosphere" by Joy Division

Wow, it's been a month to the day since I last posted, funny how things like that work.

So I turned 22 on Sunday, although my knees feel like I just turned 52. I dunno, birthdays all the sudden have some sort of introspective significance to me. I find myself looking at various people and wondering things about their lives, like what they were doing when they were my age, what their aspirations were, wether or not their dreams have been fulfilled, or even pursued.

I rented Bowling For Columbine, but have yet to watch it. Even though I am a registered Democrat, I am expecting to be annoyed by it for some reason. All of the press I have seen has made it out to seem overly preachy and self serving. However, like anything else, I will save my judgement until after seeing it. Maybe I'll post it here or something, even though I like to stay away from political discourse on this site.

I can't think of anything else to write tonight, but now that I am back at school, the updates will be much more frequent. Cross my heart.

goodnight

Yeah, that happened, didn't it?

Whatever though, I am going to update quite a bit more, it's just hard to do when you don't have a whole lot to say. Besides living in Lincoln County, I have absoultely nothing to complain about in my life right now when it comes right down to it. And even Lincoln, as dull as it is, isn't without it's own little colloquial charm.

And around that time, it hits me: if I have nothing to complain about, does that mean I have nothing to say? Is my ability to communicate my thoughts and ideas predicated on having the proverbial chip on my shoulder? Am I really that shallow?

Yikes, methinks that methinks entirely too much.

So Mandy and I went up to see the Dismemberment Plan a couple of weeks ago, and, not surprisingly, they rocked every bone in my body. If you have never seen the Plan live, then that means you probably never will; they are breaking up after this tour. If you have, consider yourself lucky to have seen one of the best live acts ever. I will elaborate more on this with a review of the show, as well as bring you some pictures. At this point, I will urge, nag, implore of, everything short of demand that you go out and purchase their album "Emergency and 1" immediately, it is easily one of my favorite records of all time ( a distinction I do not throw around lightly) and may possibly be the most innovative pop record of the last 15 years. Buy it now.

And while you are at it, if you want to expand your musical horizons, I suggest you check out some stuff by Boards of Canada, Manitoba, Sigur Ros, Dntel, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Mogwai, Tortoise, or The Microphones. It may just change the way you look at the world. .
And that can never be a bad thing.

later folx

p.s. her name is Andrea

I'ts been two weeks and I still have absolutely no idea what to write in here. Lately, I've been analyzing the value of these types of sites, these e-journals that people make for themselves. What I have noticed, quite disturbingly, is that for every one of these journals that is well written, clever or original (looking at you, Mandy), there are a plethora of these sites that are absolutely contrived. It seems like the theoretical purpose of the "personal web site" would be to describe yourself. Yet too often, I find that these sites are used only as a vessel in which someone can carefully construct an image for themselves in a way that conversations just do not allow (a.k.a. proofreading). In other words, people write to describe who they desperately want to be rather than who they are. How simple is it to say "war sucks, Bush and his war cabinet have to go, if you don't support America then you can GIT' OUT, abortion is murder, abortion is great, The Strokes are great, The Strokes are gay, females are superior, males are superior, et.al, and have people really convinced that this is the way you feel and that you really have something to say and are amazingly deep. I realize that 90% of the internet is built around feelings of social elitisim and personal vitriol, but one must admit that even the most sincere web rant seems just a tad shallow.

    Having said this, I must add that I am calling out this very website first and foremost. I'm sure I am guilty of this on many occasions, and it has to stop.

okay, i'm rambling.... on to other things.

So the sad state of my romantic life (or lack therof) seemed to hit home sometime around Wednesday, and I found myself, as I am usually acustom, devaluing my self worth and become very depressed, or in other words, feeling sorry for myself. So what did I do?

I decided: screw it, I quit

I went to a little league baseball game, and reminiced about my times on the diamond. I remembered how much simple joy I took out of playing baseball, and how all little league coaches are total pricks. Most of all, it took me back to a time in my life when nothing mattered but having fun.

Next stop was the video store, Title Wave, where I discussed the movie "Laybrinth" with one of the employees, who claimed that David Bowie scared her to this day. Very cute girl, I might add. Too bad I don't know her name, but what else is new.

Finally, I ended up stopping at Food Lion to skate in the parking lot. Just a really random, spontenous thing (and those are often the absolute most fun as far as skating goes). Then it hit me, I have been beating myself over the head with these thoughts of "why do girls hate me, what do these people think of me" and other questions of social structure that, in a true epiphany, I realized have no value whatsoever. For God's sake, I am in college and in my early 20's, it's high time I started to cultivate some of my interests further.

Well, that is all, and quite enough, I'm sure.

GOOD NIGHT NOW

The show "I'm With Busey" premired tonight on comedy central. The show basically follows actor Gary Busey around. True, I am as disenfranchised with "reality TV" as many others are, but this is the sort of show that the airwaves have needed for the longest time.

Having said that, let it be known right now that my friends and I had this very idea more than two years ago. If you don't know who Gary Busey is, God help you. Even so, it is quite hilarious.

I'm sorry about the lack of updates lately, I have been pretty busy, and Lincoln County isn't exactly conducive to inspiration by any means.

Speaking of which, I can't say I am very inspired right now.

Go rent "24 Hour Party People"

out

06-06-03

So I guess the purpose of having one's own website would ideally be to describe that individual's take on life, specifically their own, and as a place to occasionally vent, to occasionally complain, and to whine.
Problem is, in my case, I just haven't quite gotten comfortable doing any of the above. I don't know why, but I have always had this aprehension about writing things that are really going on with me. I guess it is the thought of someone being troubled with my problems, even with the off chance that they might see this site. I still feel this sort of patheticness whenever I describe things that are wrong with my life, thinking that I have no reason to complain. There are 10 year old children that are sold as sex slaves in Thailand, and I have the gall to whine about my crappy life. Truth is, I have it pretty good, all things considered.

So bear in mind, I don't do this very often.

But, for today, I have to vent. Vent about the fact that for a good seven years now, I have struggled with this fluctuating feeling of self-worth. I say fluctuating because it changes from week to week. I have up and down times. What sucks is that this adversely affects the way I approach some situations. For example, I am socially crippled. Because my confidence seems to be in the crapper 75% of the time, I can't do certain things. I have a difficult time with making friends, meeting people, finding girls, and the like. I have a bad tendency to analyze every word that comes out of my mouth when talking to someone and it seems like I never like what I hear. Therefore, whenever I talk to someone, I feel that they think I am total BS, that I am an idiot, that they don't like me anymore. I also look in the mirror constantly only to feel dissapointed and depressed towards the person that I see. For the longest time, I have written this off as being psychosomatic, but I am beginning to feel that there is something more behind this.

And I hate it. God do I hate it. I am so tired of this layer of self-deprocation that I have built up in order to protect me from what is, at it's core, a fear of unacceptance, a fear of rejection.

This really gets to me, because outside my family and friends , I could genuinely care less what people think of me, which makes my struggles with this even more inexplicable

.Please don't think that the last two paragraphs were written in an attempt to complain about the way I am treated or to make a plea for constant reassurance. I promise you that I am not that needy. This problem is all my own, and in the times where my mind is clear, I am fully aware of this.

And I'm not suicidal or anything, it isn't nearly that bad. I don't say this to gain sympathy or anything like that, because there are people and things that are far more deserving. I'm not going to start wearing all black clothing and write "Hurt Me" in permanent marker all over my belongings. Nothing like that.

Things just build up sometimes, and I feel like this is a worthy outlet for at least some of what I feel.

And I'm tired of feeling this way.

Sorry, I promise I won't do this again.

Hello folks.

At one point in my life not so long ago, I felt like I had a somewhat eclectic taste in music. In the past two weeks that I have been reviewing cd's for the radio station, I found that this just isn't the case. Some of this stuff is out there. So now I am trying to cleanse the palate a bit with the album "Perfect From Now On" by Built to Spill. I forgot how freaking beautiful this album is, and how amazing of a songwriter Doug Marstch is. If you have some spare dollars and you want to hear something that dosen't suck, pick up the aforementioned album, or "Keep It Like A Secret", which is equally good but a little more accessable.

Speaking of all things radio, on the first day that I may have actually had people listening to my show, I go on and have the worst program in the recent history of the station. It seemed like every cd I put into the player managed to skip, and I couldn't get my sequencing right on the buffer music for the life of me. It's time to seriously look into vinyl.

So I went to the skatepark this morning. This is noteworthy because it is the first time in about a month that I have even felt up to skating. What is funny to me, though, is how much differently I approach skating now than I did 2 years ago. In the past, I would have a definite idea of what I wanted to do on my board before I even went out to skate, and if I accomplished that, then I had fun, but if not, I felt like a failure. This is no longer the case. Nowadays, I feel content just to get a song in my head and just push around, maybe popping an ollie here or there, but mainly just feeling the air pass by my head and enjoying the fact that I still have the ability to do this, that I can still experience and appreciate something that is pure, that I am still somewhat alive. I'm sure I look like a total kook to those kids at the skatepark who are stressing over improving and learning some trick that  has been done much more and much better than they will ever be able to do it. That's okay though, someday maybe they'll figure it out as well.

Okay, I just saw a commercial a week ago for some NBC drama set in 1950's/60's suburbia, I can't remember the name but the name isn't really important when the whole concept is rehashed and contrived to begin with. But that's beside the point. I heard something about one of the charachters going to see a Kinks concert, which piqued my attention. However, what horrified me was hearing that The Kinks would be portrayed by.... Third Eye Blind. That's right, Third Eye Freaking Blind.  This is absolutely unacceptable for obvious reasons, the main one being this: Ray Daives would be played by Stephen Jenkins. Let's get one thing straight: Ray Daives is an incredible genius and Stephen Jenkins is a douchebag. What's next, Matchbox 20 as the Velvet Underground with Michelle Branch playing Nico? Justin Timberlake as David Bowie? Please, stop celebrating mediocrity. Third Eye Blind belongs in the roles of The Kinks about as much as they belong on the radio.

that's my musical vitriol for the day...go listen to some Tortoise

Wow, it has been way too long since my last update. After two weeks of seemingly constant moving and shuffling, I finally feel like I have some sense of organization. At least for another two months, after which I will have to go through this whole ordeal yet again.

For God's sake, people, it's summer.

Now that school is squared away for the time being and I have achieved some semblance of balance, I have to go through my list of things I want to accomplish this summer. Why not share it with you?

1. Get my car repaired.
2. Upon accomplishing above, sell said car for as much as I can possibly get (probably somewhere around $50), and try to procure a car that is actually reliable and not asthetically disturbing.
3. Get in better shape: Up until 2 weeks ago I had been running about 3 miles a day. Then, out of the blue I wake up and my ankle has swollen to the size of a baseball. I'm just now getting over that, so hopefully I will be able to heal up the lower half of my body enough that I can run and actually (gasp) skateboard. Also, it wouldn't hurt to work out a bit, it must be nice to take off your shirt and not be ashamed.
4. Actually go on a date: of course, this is contingent on actually finding a girl. Tricky stuff, considering that noone has been on my radar for a good year and a half. I'm sure my friends will attest to the fact that I desperately need something like that with which to devote some time. It's sort of tough to meet girls when you have no discernable social skills and mediocre looks at best.  Perhaps I should take care of #3 first.
5. Purchase a record player: this one is a must. Someday I will score 80 bucks and high tail it over to Pop's.
 

I'm sure there are some more things I need to do, and I highly doubt that I will get this all, or even partly accomplished.
 

To anyone who cares: I will have a radio show this summer. Starting next week, I am going to be on WRFL (88.1 for those not in the know) from 6am to 9am. In addition, I will be on Thursday night (or Friday morning depending on how you look at it) from 3am to 6 am. I'm sure everyone will be staying up for that one. Anyway, I am going to keep a log of my playlists on the .02 section of this site. Just for my own amusement.

So I have two more days left until I have to make the trek back to Lincoln County for an exciting three months of factory work and no social interaction. The solitude of my room here on campus will be traded in for the joys of living in a increasingly dilapidated house with three people, two of whom are incredibly prone to temper tantrums. But it is summer, and a summer in purgatory beats a winter in paradise.

Saturday is the Jim Rome tour stop in Cincinnati, and for one weekend I will shed off this sensitive indie music guy facade that I have been putting on and show myself for who I really am, a certifiable sports junkie. If you haven't heard Jim Rome, listen to him sometime (12-3pm on 1580am in Lexington) or catch his TV show which premires on ESPN tonight. The man is a genius.

During my usual daily run around campus, I encountered the usual shouts and insults from the kids in their cars and SUV's for which they likely never paid a dime out of their own pocket. Don't misunderstand, I'm not holding it against them that their parents are successful enough to afford to buy them a nice car, but most of them seem very unappreciative of their good fortune. I usually brush off their insults  as drunken rants, but there was one particular person who struck me funny. As I ran along the sidewalk, the guy, obviously quite inebriated, shouted in a cynizal tone "you're gonna die anyway" and sped off. This got me to thinking (which is never a bad thing). I realize that a majority of college students make it a point to drink and party and practice total indulgence. But has this gotten to the point where it has become a philosophy rather than a means of entertainment? Is it a type of nhilisim against all forms of physical self-improvement, writing off all exercise as pointless in the face of the eminent death that awaits us all? Have they arrived at some sort of roman-esque self actualization, in that all means of  enrichment are futile in the grand scheme of the frailty of life and the inevitability of death? And as he pulled farther over the dark horizion, I thought to myself, who is he trying to convince, me, or himself?

"this cigarrette it could seduce the nation with it's smoke, crawling down my tired throat, scratches part of me that's purring, softly stirring"   blake schwarzenbach
 

one quote says it all for today:
"The Dixie Chicks should leave the opinion-giving to the professionals. Like that guy with the 'boot up your ass' song."
from The Onion

about that last post...i generally get incredibly depressed at least once a week, and for some reason it all builds up until it gets to the point where I have to put it somewhere...

Right now I am listening to "Hate" by The Delgados and I have to say that this is the best album I have heard in a while. The only way I can explain their sound right now is to say "epic". I dare you to find me a more affecting first track on any album than "The Night Before We Land". Purchase is mandatory.

So right now I am experiencing my first real debt. I'm only about 5 months behind on my computer payments (just sent a check out today), so I am dealing with bill collectors for the first time in my life. In this short time, I have realized that these people have absolutely no tact. For the last three Saturdays, the bill collector from Dell (who barely speaks passable english, by the way) at exactly breakfast, lunch, and dinner time. Our family generally eats dinner around 7-8, and all three Saturdays I have recieved a call during this time. Could this be the reasons that bill collectors are so hated?

I apologize for emailing some of you about my shhour of radio time that didn't end up happening. I'm sure if you tuned in it only took you about 3 seconds to figure out that I wasn't the one on air. Hopefully that will go down sometime this week. I'll keep you posted.

There are some points when I wish my life were a television show. I think the viewer would really be entertained by situations such as the one that happened to me last Wednesday, when the guy across the hall from me burst into my room at 2am, and proceded to give me his drunken synopsis of the 3 Doors Down show that took place earlier that night:

"an then man, dude it was sofukenawesome, they like blew out a generator anshit, and they like said "it aint a show unless somethin catches on fire" an then they played that song with the army men in the video, an like the army guys came to the front and they had that american flag anshit', and then they all left the stage and I figerred the show was over right cause' they had been playin for almost an hour and I left, and then Paul came an told me that they came back on stage an played "Loser" and I was like AH FECK 'cause thats my song anshit..."

"BEST FUGGEN CONCERT EVER!!!!!"

Okay, I'm going to be a music snob here for a second. HOW IN THE WORLD can anyone find bands like 3 Doors Down entertaining? For the life of me, I will never understand how someone could hear an album as tired, contrived, and altogether cut and pasted together for mass consumption as that friggin new Linkin park and think "Yes, this freaking rocks". I am convinced that these artists such as the aformentioned 3 Doors Down, Linkin Park, Creed, and Godsmack serve the purpose of being music for people who don't like music. I realize that not everyone looks for music to answer all of the questions in life like I do, and some people just want a catchy tune, a hook, some vaugely violent/sexual lyrics, and a brooding, multiple pierced sex symbol of a lead singer who won't challenge them in any way, but will give them the quick blast of ear candy they want. At first I hated this music for it's lack of depth, but then I realized that the target audience for this music dosen't look for depth in their music. They just want to get their hits and get on with it. I guess under this line of thought, these bands, while mediocre in my opinion, earn their money.

Hope I didn't piss anyone off, that's just how I feel in a nutshell about the state of music.

That's enough for tonight.
 

no sleep
no sleep
no sleep
feeling unwelcome everywhere you turn
having no basis to relate or communicate or act out what feels normal
can you say "screw them" enough times to where the words lose all meaning
confidence is earned, not alloted from birth
so far i'm behind about 21 years
uninterpretable
the sound of words never seem to be faithful to the acoustics of the mind
abilities to comprehend all yet describe nothing
motives for everything from breath outward
who knows
no reason
no interest
no esteem
no sleep
no sleep
no sleep

How does one go about elaborating on that which does not exist? I suppose i'll give it my GFE here...

Hope everyone out there in the monitor tanning booth had a nice Easter, or Passover, or Sunday, whatever that may mean to you.

Well, I've adopted the task of re-organizing my mp3's. I'm sure that excites each and every one of you to the point of near coitis. In doing so, I have realized that I have nearly 4,000 mp3's on my harddrive. I find this staggering, and somewhat depressing, considering that I really haven't listened to a large percentage of them. This puts into focus my tendency to be compulsive and greedy. Thank God I haven't picked up a drug habit yet.

And to the undercover campus policeman who gave me a lecture for being a vandal (in other words, skateboarding back to my room from town) thank you for articulating just how wrong skateboarding is, and why it has no place on campus. I feel like a real a-hole for breaking a rule I didn't even know existed. No, seriously, thanks, and I hope that once us skaters learn our lesson, you and your esteemed, dedicated collegues can get around to solving all of those unsolved rape cases. First things first, though, it's all about priorities.

Wow, just when you thought Tony Robbins had fallen off , you turn on the TV at midnight on Sunday and there he is in all his inspirational glory. I think maybe my perpetual cold streak with girls can be solved if I just "Get The Edge" and start believing in myself.

laetr chlidern

Geez, it's been almost two weeks since the last update. Imagine if I had to pay rent or child support or something. I'd be royally screwed.

Well, I really don't like it when people give autobiographical write-ups on their sites. As egotistical and pretense-laced as having a website is in and of itself, to do nothing but give a rundown of your life and to think that it will suffice is even worse. My life simply isn't interesting enough to hold your attention for even 2 minutes. But now, watch me contradict myself and do exactly what I have maligned in this very paragraph.

So I have been doing these observations at WRFL for the last week. With any luck, I will get a show for the summer. More info on that as it becomes available. Anyway, yesterday I did my last observation with a lady who's called her show "The Estrogen Zone". To illustrate further, she flipped out when she noticed that Ani DiFranco's name was spelled wrong on a press release. Needless to say, I felt a tad alienated. I dunno, she was cool though, and she ended up being a lot more helpful than Griffin the goth guy.

Thank God April is finally here. I have literally been counting down the days since the beginning of October. Winter usually depresses the crap out of me, but this one was especially mentally grueling. But now it's springtime, and something about the sun, grass, and baseball puts me right back in the thick of things. Yeah, it's cliche. Sue me.

And if you have time, go to www.mattysimps.net , this is the site of my good friend Matt Simpson, and his site makes mine look like a horse placenta. Hope that sets your imaginations afire.

My brother finally has a job, at none other than Lowes of Danville, my former employer. Most people who know me personally know the story of my not-so-graceful dismissal from that job, but if you don't, get ahold of me and I'd be happy to share the story sometime. Anyway, I come to find out that everybody that still works there thought I was a pothead, and that I was high on the occasion of my "incident". That's funny, because: A: I have never touched the stuff in my life: and B: I took a drug test the night  it happened, which should have cleared up any misconceptions. But what sucks is that people there already had the preconcieved notition that I was a burnout. Something like that makes me take a look at how I act and how people see me. To someone who admittedly  has a pitifully low self-image, that is just more fuel on the fire of my doubt in my ability to interact with others. But whatever, I will admit to being a total idiot anyday, but I think it takes someone with even less self esteem than I posess to smoke weed in order to make their apparently miserable lives more palatable.

enough crying
if you really want to know what it's like to be me, go eat some carrots and listen to The Cure.
later

I am downloading the new Radiohead album. After a week, I will delete it, neglecting to burn it to a cd. I will not allow my ears to cross any of this material until June 7th when it is released. In this day of instant access to albums months before they come out, I kind of miss the anticipation for a big album to come out. From the tiny amout I have already heard, this one will be absolutely worth purchasing.

All facietiousness aside:

Every time I get my head shaved, I get this one comment I have never had any time for.

"Dude, that Chemo sucks, dosen't it?"

It wasn't funny then, and it isn't funny now. Now, I've always had a fairly morbid sense of humor, which I hope you could gather from my previous post.  But of all the stupid and wrong things that I find funny, cancer patients aren't on that list.

Jimmy Kimmel may be the least funny person on Earth.

There is a new 5 song ep out by one of my favorite bands, And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead. It is called "The Secret of Elena's Tomb." If you see this, you must buy it because it simply owns.

Just when it seems like there is no hope for humanity, we have baseball again. Welcome back guys. It never gets any easier to be a Reds fan, though. I can't remember the last time Cincinnati had a decent pitching staff. It looks like the motto is once again "the starting rotation is terrible, but at least the bullpen sucks."

For anyone that is interested (in other words, noone) I may very soon be getting my own radio show on Lexington's only listenable station, WRFL 88.1 .  I'll keep you posted.

good night and have a pleasant breakfast
 

OK, let's cut the crap:

Abortion is wrong and should be outlawed
as should homosexuality. I'm sorry, queers are sickening.

I am glad we are in Iraq. It's about time those sandworms got what's coming to them.

The new Linkin Park album might just be my favorite new album of the year.

I think Strom Thurmond had some great ideas.

Anyone who dosen't support this war wholeheartedly should be drug out into the
street and hung like the Benidict Arnolds they are. Love it or leave it, traitors!!!

I really believe that if we would just pass an amendment stating that Christianity is the official religion
of the US, we would have a lot less "problems".

And by God, the south will rise again.

There it is, and that's how it ought to be
 
 

Christ, that last post was whiny.

So, I am learning the cruel reality of how college works. Unless I come up with 100 bucks by tomorrow, chances are I will not get any of my classes for next semester. Perfect. Plus, the people in charge of housing here, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that now would be a good time to cut off the heat in my dorm. Thanks guys.

I got all of my hair cut off this weekend. Why? One, it reminds me of my friends that are overseas getting shot at right now. And, I was kind of bored. It's not like that belligerent ball of fuzz and noncompliance was doing me any good.

And Kentucky lost. Although I consider myself a diehard fan, I generally don't take their losses as hard as I am taking this one. I mean, they were bound to lose sometime, but this team was just so fun to watch, it sucks to see them go down like that, not being at full strength and in a hostile environment.

As far as this war goes, at this point, I refuse to comment. Someone more intelligent that you or I once said that the easiest way to lose friends is by discussing politics or religion. I find this to be true. Let's just say that I have a lot of friends on both sides of the fence and I'd like to keep it that way. If you want to know my opinion, feel free to ask, but don't expect to agree (or disagree) with me.

Here's a concept I've been kicking around: If you have a interesting picture or story you would like me to post on here, send it to me at [email protected]. I hope to get some feedback, but I doubt anyone cares...sniff

gnite folks
 

Today I went to Lexington and ended up being a nusiance to everyone I was around, especially my friends. Sorry for being a bother, folks.
I dunno, I feel like the more I try to not be annoying, the more annoying I am. My friends aren't condecending about it but they have every right to be.
Part of me seems ostracized to the rest of the world. I just can't speak anymore. Every word that comes out of my mouth seems more idiotic than the last.
Please don't misunderstand, I don't write this to garner pity at all, instead, think of it as an apology.
And the cycle begins again.

It's funny, the things you run across on the internet while putting random, arbitrarly chosen words into the search engine. Here's what comes up under a search for "fitness". Hooray for ennui.

Do's and Dont's of a Nudist Colony: Tips by the American Association of Nude Recreation

Use plenty of sunscreen, everywhere.

Always carry a towel, for sanitary reasons as well as to use as a cover-up if you go into public non-nude areas.

It's not a written rule, but generally it's polite to maintain eye contact with others.

There's no middle ground at nude resorts. You're either nude or dressed. The AANR recommends using wrist or ankle packs
to carry money and other personal items. No binoculars.

Body contact is not allowed in public areas.

For those visiting nude beaches, it's recommended to dress before leaving or arriving at nude areas.

Walk along the shoreline to avoid kicking up sand at people you pass.

Always get permission before taking scenic photographs.
 

Well, I had the best of intentions of updating this thing daily, but it hasn't quite panned out.  I promise I'll try harder.

I am the world's worst for fawning over pop stars. First it was my well-documented obsession with Nelly Furtado, then it was the "Summer of '42" syndrome I obtained for Kylie Minouge. And it seems that this time has come again, for now I am all about this Ms. Dynamite girl. That "Dy-Na-Mi-T-Ee" song is just too frigging entrancing. Completely harmless, I suppose.

Heavens to Betsy, it seems like I'm finally managing to actually meet people rather than being a social recluse. I had a nice conversation with a beautiful girl from India (I  think) named Rushda. Could I make it happen? Who knows. But I definitely feel like I'm heading in the right direction. I have no idea why I have felt so intellectually and socially isolated from nearly everyone I have encountered for the last 6 years of my life. It wasn't out of superiority, but out of fear. Fear of rejection? Perhaps. But I have found that answers are often not as painful as eternal questions.

And regarding this war, it honestly depresses me that in the year 2003, we still haven't come far enough as a society to be able to work out our differences diplomatically. Violence isn't solving anything. Neither is namecalling, for all you "anti-war" protesters. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely support anyone who disagrees with this war, but I only ask that they make the distinction between this battle and the military in general. We absolutely need a military, and a strong one at that. I'm not going to go into whether or not Bush is a warmonger or what his motivations to go after Iraq are, because that bridge has been crossed many more times and with much more philosophical insight than I could ever muster up.

Maury is da bomb.

later haters
 

In movie class today (yes, I am taking a Teen Movies class, and yes, it is full of stoners and fratboys), we watched a movie called The Last American Virgin. The story revolved around this kid named Gary, who was in love with a girl named Karen. Karen, on the other hand, starts going out with his best friend, a womanizer named Rick. As Karen falls in love with Rick, Gary's friendship with Rick naturally fades. So of course, Rick takes Karen out to the football field and does what the title of the movie suggests. Gary sees them and is, of course, devestated. Two weeks later, it turns out Karen is pregnant and Rick wants nothing to do. At this point, Gary, still lovestruck, comes to the rescue, and puts her up in his dead grandmother's house, while he pawns off his stereo to pay for her abortion (let's hold our Roe v. Wade arguements to another post). After this, he professes his love to her, and the two embrace. It turns out the next week is Karen's big birthday party, and Gary throws down 80 bucks to buy her a necklace. He gets to the party and, of course, there is Karen making out with Rick. The moral of the story: Girls love A-Holes.
I mean really, isn't it always Rick? It has been, at least for me, except Rick was never my friend. Instead, he was the meathead jock who managed to cut me down and embarrass me in front of whatever girl I found myself in love with at the time. Rick was the jerk who was the most typical of guys, who oozed testosterone and made sure that you knew it. For Rick, every day was just an orgasm away from completion. And what made matters worse, no matter how obnoxious Rick was, the girls couldn't get enough of it.  I don't know what it was Rick had, because to me and all the lonely guys like me, Rick was a total jackoff, but whatever it was, none of us had it or wanted to have it. Therefore, while Rick scored every weekend and had nothing to say to the girls he had made love to just that weekend ("but i thought he liked me!!!!"), while us sensitive, shy dudes observed the process. And trust me, the process repeated itself weekly.
Moral of the story: Girls love A-holes, and they always will. Nice guys finish last, and they always will.
 
 

so you look
and you look and you look and you look into mirrors, hoping at some point to find something acceptable, something palatable staring at you via reflection. but it never happens, does it? and after this process repeats itself ad nauseum, you find that the image that looks you in the face is in no way representative of who you are, or what you optimally want yourself to be.

but that is all that matters, anyway. intangibles and intrinsic values are of no use in our increasingly high context society in which everyone has a soapbox but noone seems to be able to utter the very words that need to be said the most. especially not i. and the self-evaluation continues.

is there no respite for those who struggle with the least of conversation? and why is this, pray tell? are we pitifully socially inept to the point of absolute anxiety, are we afraid of the reprecussions of the truth, do we feel too vulnerable to open that door, do we have an aversion complex to rhetoric? yes, yes, yes, and yes.

telling yourself and telling yourself and telling yourself that all things come in time, that everything has a reason. that another emotional dependency is the last thing you need in your life. and in many respects, this is absolutely true. but this little spoonful of logic does little to mend the hole that just grows deeper as you look to your side and see nothing but empty space...

maybe a better cellphone will help

Well, I can't for the life of me think of anything substantial to say tonight, so I guess I will just ramble incessantly for a little while, just to let you know I'm still alive. I just got back from seeing my friend's rap group, Magnetic, play. Pretty good despite subpar sound which is the fault of the bar more than the performers. During the show, some belligerent, drunken redneck (is there any other kind?) came to the stage and started heckling the guys, throwing racial slurs and the like. I suppose the break from God-awful covers of AC/DC, Staind, and Steve Miller Band (just to name a few) was too much for the dude, but the guys on stage played it off well, giving the guy props while continuing on with their set and making him look like a total arse (which he also did very well himself). Beautiful.

I realize that I talk about music way too much, and at some times I may come off as being one elitist douchebag. This is certainly not the desired effect, as I believe that I sincerely try to look at all music with an open mind. The last thing I want to do is write off an artist or an album out of hand, just because they sell records or they are on MTV or the like. It just so happens that I have a strong opinion about music, and the inspiration for what these artists have created. I have thought about this at length, and I just can't see how people can listen to some of the stuff that they do. Does this mean that their taste in music is somehow inferior to mine? Absolutely not. There are certain opinions that I will share with anyone, if asked. For example, I am not a Billy Corgan fan. I think the man has never been able to decide whether he wants to be Frank Black or Kevin Shields. But whatever, inspiration is hardly a crime. His new project, Zwan, piqued my interest when I heard that Matt Sweeney of Chavez (a criminally underappreciated band) and David Pajo of Slint (one of the better bands Kentucky ever produced) and Tortoise were going to be in the band. From what I have heard of the album though, you wouldn't know they were there. But I digress.
I'll shut up now, sorry to bore you. Blame the Redbull.

Well, due to some screwed up stuff going on at home that I'd rather not discuss here, this will be the last post on here for the week. I'm sure all of you will notice. Whatever.
In happier news, I got an email read on the air during The Jim Rome Show today. My life is now complete.
not familiar with this show? get familiar www.jimrome.com

I know I made big promises regarding daily updates. Bear with me folks, I'm trying. Just sitting here right now, watching Sealab 3031 and listening to the new 12 Rods record which is rocking my lil' world. I was at home this weekend, and I missed a fratboy fight, which sucks because fratboy fights are the best.
Friday night, I went to see my friend Brandon's new band play, and the night was unfathomably akward. Between ex girlfriends and bad music (not Brandon's band, they were ok), I kept running into people that I graduated with, and it was startling to me how little these people had changed. People came up to me expecting me to be all chatty and social and stuff, which blows my mind because I wasn't like that in high school. But it was the fact that these people were still the same, still so stagnant after 4 years that was amazing to me. A lot of these people had enough potential to get out of Lincoln and do something, but there they sit, their addictions and lazy mannerisms intact, and it makes me feel a little better to be out of that place. I'm not saying this to come off as being mean or snooty or elitist in any way, it just really hit me like a ton of bricks for some reason.
quick thoughts:
Adult Swim is the greatest thing on TV right now
winter sucks

so today was my first day back to class after a week long battle with bronchitis that I have yet to completely win. There is a pretty big party going on in my hall, and I suppose I could go join them if I really wanted to. I mean, I realize that I can be a total anti-social jerk sometimes. I never gave these people a chance, mostly because the whole party/drinking/fraternity scene is completely repellant to me for some reason. However, in the last month, I have become friends with a lot of these people. I feel like I've been a total ass (pardon the language) to these people over the last 6 months, and that is inexcusable, no matter how little we have in common. They are (for the most part) cool, down to earth people, which makes it even more akward for me to have to keep finding ways to avoid going to their parties. I like them, but I have no interest in getting liquored up and partying every night.
well, that's all for tonight, here's a little reminder of how bored one can get when illness turns them into a shut in.

ok, I am going to go with a different approach to this part of the site. From now on, this is going to be more of a running log in which I can just spastically post whatever tickles my fancy, besides, the old posts sucked, and I could never figure out how to link the stupid things correctly. Hopefully, I will be able to update this part of the site at least once a day. I'm sure the overall readability will suffer, but it's not like any of this stuff was readable to begin with.

return to ground zero
historical lists