Still W.A.S.T.E.ing Away

I'm still here. It's ten after 8 am and I'm still waiting for Radiohead tickets to start presale. This is really sad. I could have gotten up at a regular time and not missed a thing. I could have slept in my own bed. I am determined to make it all worth it. I'm so dedicated right now.

The last North American presale went up at 8:51 am, so here we go. 40 mins left, maybe. Maybe not.

This Is An Obsession

I am completely ridiculous. It's just after 4am and I've been up for the last hour with Firefox tabs on Radiohead's ticket sale page set to auto-refresh ever 5 seconds. So that I can spend money I don't have on tickets for the greatest band on Earth.

I need a bigger life. I have a life. It just doesn't keep me from doing stupid stuff like this. You know, sleeping on the futon in the living room because my every-half-hour alarms were driving my wife insane. I'm a sad strange little man.

I have all my personal information and credit card details on a notepad at the bottom of the screen so I can copy and paste with lightning speed. I'm a little worried that I might not have a w.a.s.t.e. account for tickets but... hell you don't care.

I figured out why they call it waste.

I have clocks set to three different timezones. I hope this works. This could be my last or only chance to see my favorite band ever. And one day I'll die a happier man knowing I got to see them.

Let's Get Known

So hey, let's get known. If we keep it up, we can show the haters. It's gotta be soon, not later.

So begins the song Let's Get Known by the unbeatable Unicorns. Man, I wish I could write so honestly. When I try I just come off as a 14 year old brat trying to write shit poetry in his notebook before bed. Unfortunately I'm running right out of external problems to write about with any conviction.

Hmmm, how to draw the line between macro-generalized problems and the micro-specified mundane? Who knows.

Most of my favorite songs don't make a lick of sense. I can't even figure out what much of them means. Like Radiohead, Will Oldham, they leave out the full descriptions, but still provide such tedious details as to give vivid imagery.

Vivid images of who knows what. How do you write towards that?

I'm more worried that they don't even try and that the effort I use spells my failure with its very presence.

Motivation

Young Jeezy stays motivated. No doubt. He's got two full albums devoted to motivating thugs. "Because the thugs need motivation, a lawyer team a good case and some dedication."

These last few days I've found that some activities (or the anticipation of them) bring me a semblance of satisfaction. But it smacks of contentment in an animal. Like the horse that feels fulfillment in the pulling of a load and the meal at the end of the day, or the ant that finally gets that bit of breadcrumb back to the hill. It doesn't point towards anything but survival. And why survival?

I make music. I enjoy it. I don't know what I'm making it for. Oh yeah, I want to release a full album in a month or so. The problem is that the last few days I can't find motivation... okay, that's not true. I work on it, and I accomplish things, but I feel like I'm doing it to convince myself of something. I want to believe that it's enough. I'm trying doubly hard (and getting exhausted) in efforts to win me over to my side again.

I love my wife. Very much. I would never leave her, cheat her, or do anything else to willfully cause her hurt. Lately I'm even preoccupied with showing her more affection than usual. I send her cutesy messages throughout the day, I remember to mention all the positive details about her, I do chores and give her anything I can figure out she wants.

I'm just afraid that I'm doing it to convince her. When we're together, finally, I feel distracted, harsh, distant, nitpicky, irritated. I spend all day wishing she was around and then make her feel unwanted when we're finally together. Which is my true self? Can one self be truer?

I'm chalking some of it up to the exhaustion of doing so much. And for what? To convince myself to keep doing so much. Time to sleep. I have no conclusions.

I probably just need motivation like Young Jeezy

Silence as a Holster

Well, I ended up using those possible lyrics from an previous post and used a snappy title inspired by an even previouser (not a word) post. It came out in the form of a terrible recording in about twenty minutes. You can get the general idea here:

Silence as a Holster

Margot at the Wedding

Just finished Margot at the Wedding. Similar to the feeling I had after I finished The Squid and the Whale, I am frustrated that I took no notes. And I realize that if I'd taken notes I would have been frustrated that I hadn't just enjoyed the movie. These films really fall like a tree on the fence that divides comedic entertainment and uncomfortable revelation. There's so much to take in. It's really no wonder that Margot has such a low IMDB rating. Who would go to the movies and leave happy after they were subjected to such appallingly accurate representations of family? There's little to say about the films themselves, except to recollect what has been seen. You can't comment; the commentary is the entire film.

Man, what I would give to be able to capture so many lives with a piece of art. I feel like I am, in some way, a part of every character. My wife says, "Why does this guy make movies about my family?" The mental struggles portrayed are so lifelike that they make you really want to take notes so that you can recognize and avoid their perils in your own life. Or they make you want to go into complete denial. After all, nobody I know is as extremely messed up as the assholes on TV right?

Right?

New Keyboard Amp

Yeah, so I got one of these today. It's a Peavey KB 3 (click the pic to find out more.) It has three inputs for a vocal mic, keyboards, whatever. A massive 12" speaker with a tweeter. I almost bought one a couple years ago when I was first starting out with my old band, Rococo. Instead we went with a Roland KC-150. Never regretted it, seriously, that baby rocks. But we need another amp to run the drum machine through, and this is it.

Funny thing is, although these usually go for $300, I snagged it for $50. My brother-in-law Rob, who lives below me, had a friend bring it over and try and sell it to him. Doesn't use it anymore, or never did. So anyways, they're tough to sell online due to weight and dimensions (weight packed=60 lbs.) and he wanted cash instead of an amp. Happy to oblige.

Possible Lyrics

Silence can betray your thoughts

I know that you have things to say to me

Your words are claiming you don’t know

But all the things you’d convey

Are rolling down your cheeks

Pouring from your eyes

They’re pooling on your chin

Escaping in your sighs

Hurt my precious feelings

Call me rotten names

Scream aloud and cry and shout and

Make audacious claims

Just tell me what you’re thinking

For chrissake please say anything at all

Silence is no cover for

The brief moments [frustration] your anger gets your best

Deep inside your conscious

All those moments sit

Like throwing stones in fists

Swung but not released

Trapped inside your hands

Like idle threats they tease

Well toss them at me please

Hurt my precious feelings

Call me rotten names

Scream aloud and cry and shout and

Make audacious claims

Just tell me what you’re thinking

Just say something at all

Just tell me what my sorry ass

Can do to fix it all

Jaime Stewart Wrote Me A Haiku

Click here to see the haiku that Jaime Stewart from Xiu Xiu wrote specifically for me. I was one of the first few hundred folks to send in a picture of myself holding their new album, "Women As Lovers" (you can hear a song on the ghetto blaster up there.) This was the picture:


I know; it's disgusting. But it was the most Xiu Xiu thing I could think to do.

Devil's Haircut

I got my hair cut at Countours today by my friend Eric. He is amazingly good at his job. Totally amazing. He makes hair look like hot sex on my head. How? It begins with a miraculous double shampooing and conditioning, then a trim, then a thin, then a styling.



Now I have to improve the rest of my body to match my haircut.

This is the lyric that won't leave my head:

"Death to everyone, is gonna come,
And it makes Jose much more fun."

I have to wear my fancy suit tonight to play a concert at school with my classical Guitar Ensemble which we've decided to name Ride or Die at the encouragement of the "brutal" metal kid who plays with us. This isn't us, but we're playing this song:



Really poppy, but catchy and kind of fun. I play one of the idiot parts, but the other guys get to improv some blazing solos at the end.

Don't Have My Phone

Hey Babe,

I don't have my phone on me today, and I don't have time to run home and get it, so I won't get to talk to you till after 3:00. This is what I would say if I could call you right now:

I am so bummed. I dozed off twice during theory this morning, but I just got done practicing and I feel pretty good about my lesson. I'm very confused about the Socrates/Plato text we're analyzing in philosophy. It's brilliant, I've figured out that much, but it's basically a conversation between two guys, so the structure is hard to find. Anyway, I hope you're not feeling too tired today. Hope you're still up for going out with Cassie and whoever tonight.

I love you.
--
I've Seen This Happen In Other People's Lives
And Now It's Happening In Mine

David Bazan, Here I Come

I'm going to see David Bazan (from the band Pedro the Lion) tonight at Taylor University, Upland. I hope it lives up to my hopes and dreams. I saw Pedro the Lion a few years ago, but it was kind of disappointing. The band played well, and they covered a wide range of their material. It was just kind of a let down from what might have been if I'd seen them a year or two earlier previous.

Now there's new material, multiple monikers, but still the same old Q&A. I can't hide it, I'm pretty excited.

Now back to reading Socrates. Summary: two things are known for certain.

(1) I don't know shit, and
(2) neither do you.

Anna Vogelzang and Tiger Saw Review

Dylan assumed the space at the front of the Dragon's Keep with a quiet but confident demeanor. He rang the bell hanging from the headstock of his ancient and beaten guitar, calling attention to the presentation we had in store. Anna Vogelzang called an "A-huh-heh-hem" and captured the moment. Dylan spelled out his full name, (which I misunderstood,) and assured us that he and Anna would make up the Tiger Saw lineup for the evening.

He began with a stomp of his black shoe and a strum of the guitar, Anna's harmonies meshing with the first melody of the night. He held his head high, and marched through the song with steady resolve while she held a coffee cup in two hands and climbed vocal steps to meet the song's wistfully beautiful mood.

After the opener he asked if anybody had any questions. I asked from midway back if his name was Dillinger abbreviated Dillin, only to receive the reply that it was in fact Dylan Jeremiah. My mistake. As further reply the Tiger Saw came closer to my section of the room to stand before the coffee bar and present to us in a more personal space. Much appreciated.

Short explanations, such as the feeling of being beside somebody and finding your emotions too complex to express, or anecdotes of seeing fully dressed prostitutes in the red-light district of Hamburg (what queer advertising.) A few songs featured Anna adding solo melodies with accompaniment by Dylan. Each song stuck pretty close to the formula, (a working formula,) but one standout included statements about certain ghosts always being near to our hearts. That particular cut also featured travel buddy Joe Arnold adding pizzicato string accompaniment and short bowing on the violin.

Dylan finished with thanks and recollections of friends in Massachusetts. He then launched into a final melody which faded into accappella choruses imploring listeners to keep a song with them to remind of home. A chime of the bell ended the set.

Anna Vogelzang took our attention next, with little announcement save for a request that steamed and blended drinks be saved for after the set. God, that really bothers me. The drinks I mean. Oh well.

Percussive blasts from the guitar were the true heralding of Anna's first "up, up and away-hey-eh" joint, complimented by climbing violin strains from Joe. Rapid lyricism cascaded finally into a fading chorus and formal introduction. Various and sundry names for the tour were thrown about as jokes before the next song was introduced as being penned for Paris Hilton during her "tough" stay behind bars. Indeed, "we love to watch you suffer" rings true, at least for me, not so much the "I love your hair" echoed into infinity towards the end, but the bright charisma carried me to the climax nevertheless.

The following ballad, a finger-picker, was a definite example of Joe's flourishing violin skills. Swirling trills at the refrain gave the old slow-burner the added heat to convince of us of the intended warmth spoken of in the lyrics. However it was "Philly", Anna's recollections of her one time of home in Philadelphia that rang out more magnificently still, bursting forth through crisp falsetto resolving to diminished chords and an instrumental bridge showcasing a charming solo ending in a quiet verse of burning memories.

A rousing rendition of The Beatles' "Your Mother Should Know" came next, with violin harmonizing vocals on the spiraling "sing it again" pre-choruses. An anecdote about actually stopping in Cleveland for the previous night's show preceded "Family Band," a song that begins with the line "how about we move to Cleveland." For the record, apparently Anna would never want to actually move there.

A little cowboy ditty completed the set, a self-proclaimed "quiet version of an already quiet song" that was enhanced by the pleasantly surprised smiles exchanged between the players as correct notes blended together in this new rendition. Dylan stepped up to join Anna on a duet where they played mock lovers. Joe spotlighted once more with quiet plucks of the guts at the start of the evening's closer, "Hymn for a Parents." What a hero, that Joe.

Some Goals

The thing is, I probably won't accomplish many, or any of these:

• Eat less
• Exercise 3-4 times a week
• Be sure to eat at least one healthy meal every day
• Spend less on food (eat out less)
• Practice guitar more regularly (weekends included)
• Bend to the whims of my spouse more often
• Go out of my way to befriend music department fags

These are all hedonistic according to my new understanding of it. I think that despite minor pain and no immediate pleasure they will yield great gain in the future and allow me to avoid further pain. All except that last one. This picture is me reacting to mdf stupidity right now.

I finally updated the media player, gave it a little more exposure. Oh well, nobody's listening anyway. Now I go to bed too late and wish I'd spent my time more productively. Maybe on a explication de texte, or songwriting, or instrumental practice, or sleeping next to my wife.

It's time to do that last one.

Anyone Who Says Differently is Selling Something

I really love my band. It's a powerful motivator. It makes me want to be better.

Tonight it also made me want to die. But not till afterwards. If only I'd just stayed home and made somebody else happy.

Possible tracklist for a new album:

01. Silence as anticipation
02. ... as assurance
03. ... as peace
04. Silence as inexpressible pain
05. ... as exclusion
06. ... as manipulation
07. ... as a weapon
08. Silence as desperation
09. ... as a resolution
10. ... as a final choice

Sounds emo as all hell, huh? Maybe a "clever" album title like Silence as the Grave would fit nicely. I guess I'll have to change my performance name to As Autumn Leaves Burn In Flames Becoming the Ashes of My Fallen Tears. I'll have to die my hair black and use a flat iron to make it hang all jagged in my face. I'll have to wear eyeliner. Actually, damn! This is starting to sound awesome!

On a more serious note, I'm studying Epicurus in philosophy. Today we redefined hedonism and it actually sounds pretty good. It's all about ultimate pleasure, not just pleasure in the moment, but making choices based on the best pleasure, which often means delaying gratification or working hard to achieve better pleasure in the future.

It's also all about avoiding pain. And in the words of Isaac Brock: "If life's not beautiful without the pain, when I guess I'd really rather never even see beauty again."

Wanted: Purpose

So much for productive blogging. I have nothing I care about enough to post anyway. Except a lame want ad.

Seeking: purpose and meaning for life that surpasses overwhelming sense of doldrum. Must be... hell, it can be anything. Must not force me to believe unprovable nonsense that I will eventually shake off as a load of shit.

Offering: hard work with great success when motivated.

Warning: difficult as hell to motivate.

Oh god, somebody I know has the most difficult disposition when she's groggy. And she's been sick for days. Sickness comes with a lot of sleep and sleeps means lots of groggy moments before, during, and after the act. That sentence was difficult to read. Oh well, nobody's reading. Anyway, I feel like the most annoying sack of rot on the planet when she's groggy. I'm incapable of pleasing (which I realize is more important to me than I'd hoped) and guilty if I try to escape.

That's all nonsense. I'm exaggerating.

But I still feel like I'm ready the way that Biggie Smalls and the Unicorns were.

Back From Florida, Despising Existence in Fort Wayne

Okay, this town isn't that bad, honestly. Nobody wants to hear me complain, especially not me. So I'll save it. I just hope that the weather turns nicer and everybody quits this sickness that's going around. And I hope I get a break from all of this catchup I'm doing at school. And I hope that this album I'm recording is the shit. I have seen the future, and there are people worshiping my music... never.

Back to class. During my break I think I'm going to post some real music reviews, change my layout, and update that music player at the bottom of the page. Should be fun. Damn, nobody's reading this. Who am I trying to convince?

Where I'm Going Tomorrow

I'm going to Florida tomorrow. No, I'm not a senior citizen with a deathwish (that's where they go to die, man.) I'm on a family vacation: one that is forcing me to work my ass off this week to finish all my schoolwork for next week by tomorrow (Friday.)

This is really sucking right now. It will be awesome after tomorrow, but then it'll probably suck again when I get home. Suck suck.

Mmmm, my neck feels so good right now...

Things I'm Afraid of Tonight:

• never being discovered
• being the kind of crazy person that knows they're crazy and can't keep from losing control
• wolves
• continuing a cycle of losing friends, gaining new ones, and losing those
• my house catching fire while I sleep
• losing a limb (especially a hand)
• going deaf
• zombies
• my libido