I think my computer is slowly dying. The blogs I read are all a day or two behind and I'm pretty sure I wrote something for this site the other day that isn't here. I don't know. Maybe it's in my head. I feel like a zombie, still, which is appropriate considering I'm begrudgingly going to zombie prom tonight. Well, begrudgingly in a passive aggressive way. Which is to say, only me and a select few know it's begrudgingly.
So that girl is more or less off my mind, which is good. I guess that's what it feels like to be led on. Huh. It's strange, though. I mean, I haven't seen her in nearly a week, and she still occupies a good portion of the thinking I do, but the issue just seems less pressing as my chances sink farther and farther down into the, uh, abyss. Or something. I'd still drop whatever I'm doing to go pick her up if she needed me to, or I'd ditch my present company to meet her for a beer, or I'd pretend I'm not sleeping if she wants to come over at 4 in the morning to pass out but needs me to pick her up from the train station. That's fucked, isn't it? I mean, I'm 99% certain she would do none of that for me. Hell, allowing me to pick her up at 2 in the morning from home last Friday night seemed overly generous of her.
I guess it's like that guy in San Francisco said, that after a few bad relationships you start to crave someone who puts you through hell. It's an addictive tension, I guess, and it's no more pleasant than fiending for cocaine, probably, and the payoff is definitely up to speed, for sure.
Well, sometimes.
I keep getting these little highs where everything's all right. They don't last long, so maybe what I'm really experiencing are the vast lows where everything is depressing and it doesn't matter where anything goes because every end is irrelevant and the only memory that matters is your own because nobody else can be expected to care (rightfully so) and the best you can do is hope to die alone or around people who don't irritate you too much.
I'm a lot weaker than I used to think of myself as being. Actually, I partially take that back. A lot of my perceived strengths and weaknesses are merely proclivities of which value judgments should not be placed upon. I'm not sure that makes sense on here like it does in my head. For instance, I was talking to Danny last night about various topics. Of particular importance to this paragraph, I mentioned that I couldn't have sex with someone I don't care about. I have-- and it wasn't particularly entertaining or awful-- but now I feel incapable. To some, this would be considered a strength because it's slightly more honorable to fornicate in the presence of strong emotions (this is a generalization of no particular set of moral guidelines. Whatever), and to others this would be a weakness in the same way that being biologically intolerant of gluten would suck because it would severely limit one's beer choices and, thus, make it a pain in the ass to go out and get loaded on a whim. But I don't know. I mean, to me (and, remember, this top of random banging is just an example) this whole thing is about as irrelevant as having a tree in my backyard. I mean, it's a tree, man. It's just there. It rarely serves me a particular purpose yet eradicating it from the premises would be unnecessary because it's not really in the way of anything. It's just there.
So yeah, that's that. All these things I have are just qualities and their utility or appropriateness is relative to whomever decides to judge me. So who cares? The person judging will probably stop caring almost immediately upon making the judgment. And I don't really care.
But should I care? Maybe that's my problem. It all goes back to this quote that's always been stuck in my head: "pride is nothing to be proud of." I hate it so much but I can't help but agree.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
I Will Atone
Life is fucking hard, man. Well, no, I take that back. Not entirely, though. Life can be hard, but mine isn't particularly. "Life is tricky," is what I meant. Sometimes you have to try your hardest, and other times you have to exude some kind of I-Don't-Give-a-Damn aura-- and all for the same ends! It's hard to care when I'm in the haze of a second-wind exhaustion, yet it's hard not to care when I'm bright-eyed and bushy tailed and my endorphins are in fifth gear.
It's easy to throw in the towel when you genuinely don't care or are through with whatever it is that you were using a towel for, but it's considerably harder to pretend that giving up is by choice and not by default or defeat.
Anyways, I'm on the verge of doing something very, very drastic: staying put. Ha! Well, what Whitney posted on my wall kind of makes me feel like a deadbeat, but that's what I am, right? Here's the option I'm considering-- but wait! First, some back-story kind of details that may or may not be necessary:
-I love music. Ever since John gave me Less Than Jake's Hello Rockview when I was in 3rd grade, I was hooked. Granted, all the songs were about drinking, and I was under the impression that getting drunk was a side effect that rarely affected people, and most of the songs I was listening to were about drinking, but... meh. The point is, there was Less Than Jake and Blink 182 and all the punk/ska compilations I could get my hands on at Tower Records on Clark Street. And then there was the Lawrence Arms at the Fireside in 8th grade, and people mistaking my reaction to a severe lack of oxygen as being the effects of too much alcohol. I had a blast. Until then, I kind of assumed that people made bands, the bands either made it or didn't, and the ones that made it played giant venues and the musicians who didn't make it became teachers or deadbeats or something. The Lawrence Arms showed me that I can do it, too.
-I hate school. Don't get me wrong-- I love learning. I couldn't begin to count the amount of books I've read, or the conversations I've had with people where I've come away with good knowledge. But, for the same reason that I don't enjoy or appreciate lectures, I can't stand sitting idly by while someone tells me stuff. I need engagement, like a good conversation. Healthy discourse, y'know? I need to be able to constantly ask questions, which I don't feel comfortable doing in a classroom.
-I like to be in control. Now, I don't consider myself a "control freak," by any means. But, if something is going to be produced with my name on it, I need to be the final arbiter over what works and what doesn't. I don't think I could ever write a book or a song with anybody because that's not how I work.
-I love to write. See what I'm doing right now? I need this. Well, that's not true. I can live without writing, but it would be very dull. I can't properly express myself with a paint brush or a hammer or a camera, so I use words.
-My attention span is on the shorter side, relatively speaking. At this point in my life, I don't have it in me to write a book or a short story because I'd have a radical change of mind half way through and decide that I have a better idea that can't be incorporated into what I already have written.
So here's the decision (which isn't yet final, but it's getting there): I'm going to put my entire mind into this band. If it doesn't work out then at least I'll be that much closer with my next band. And, if it doesn't work out, then I can always move to Denver. I'm in no hurry to move, but man! am I in a hurry to leave. With a band, I can tour (ideally) without entirely picking up sticks.
Next is the decision of whether or not to go to school. If I don't go to school, I need a second job. Paying rent and eating is great, but I need to save some money for potential adventures.
Works almost over.
It's easy to throw in the towel when you genuinely don't care or are through with whatever it is that you were using a towel for, but it's considerably harder to pretend that giving up is by choice and not by default or defeat.
Anyways, I'm on the verge of doing something very, very drastic: staying put. Ha! Well, what Whitney posted on my wall kind of makes me feel like a deadbeat, but that's what I am, right? Here's the option I'm considering-- but wait! First, some back-story kind of details that may or may not be necessary:
-I love music. Ever since John gave me Less Than Jake's Hello Rockview when I was in 3rd grade, I was hooked. Granted, all the songs were about drinking, and I was under the impression that getting drunk was a side effect that rarely affected people, and most of the songs I was listening to were about drinking, but... meh. The point is, there was Less Than Jake and Blink 182 and all the punk/ska compilations I could get my hands on at Tower Records on Clark Street. And then there was the Lawrence Arms at the Fireside in 8th grade, and people mistaking my reaction to a severe lack of oxygen as being the effects of too much alcohol. I had a blast. Until then, I kind of assumed that people made bands, the bands either made it or didn't, and the ones that made it played giant venues and the musicians who didn't make it became teachers or deadbeats or something. The Lawrence Arms showed me that I can do it, too.
-I hate school. Don't get me wrong-- I love learning. I couldn't begin to count the amount of books I've read, or the conversations I've had with people where I've come away with good knowledge. But, for the same reason that I don't enjoy or appreciate lectures, I can't stand sitting idly by while someone tells me stuff. I need engagement, like a good conversation. Healthy discourse, y'know? I need to be able to constantly ask questions, which I don't feel comfortable doing in a classroom.
-I like to be in control. Now, I don't consider myself a "control freak," by any means. But, if something is going to be produced with my name on it, I need to be the final arbiter over what works and what doesn't. I don't think I could ever write a book or a song with anybody because that's not how I work.
-I love to write. See what I'm doing right now? I need this. Well, that's not true. I can live without writing, but it would be very dull. I can't properly express myself with a paint brush or a hammer or a camera, so I use words.
-My attention span is on the shorter side, relatively speaking. At this point in my life, I don't have it in me to write a book or a short story because I'd have a radical change of mind half way through and decide that I have a better idea that can't be incorporated into what I already have written.
So here's the decision (which isn't yet final, but it's getting there): I'm going to put my entire mind into this band. If it doesn't work out then at least I'll be that much closer with my next band. And, if it doesn't work out, then I can always move to Denver. I'm in no hurry to move, but man! am I in a hurry to leave. With a band, I can tour (ideally) without entirely picking up sticks.
Next is the decision of whether or not to go to school. If I don't go to school, I need a second job. Paying rent and eating is great, but I need to save some money for potential adventures.
Works almost over.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Waking Life
I think it's more being hooked on taking a break every few hours, stepping outside, sitting in my head and wandering about. I know it's a bad habit but it's made me a few friends and it's kept me up past my bedtime more than once. The end could come, as it has before, but my bed always gets tired of me, and I'd rather live out my dreams and take part instead of watching the wires sparking in my head. 'Cause when I wake up in the morning and I feel like hell, I know a second wind will come rushing in, so I might as well. Yeah, I might as well wake up and wait for that cold breeze to blow in and freeze over hell.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Banana Bread-Pastrami-Cottage Cheese Sandwich.
the key to my door
won't turn anymore
but i'm not trying to get out
'cause i can't bring myself to care
anymore.
won't turn anymore
but i'm not trying to get out
'cause i can't bring myself to care
anymore.
Maybe Every Day is Saturday Morning
What contrast, huh? I lied my way out of one bad situation only to have a hopeful circumstance go sour. Who spends the night chasing wild geese? Me, apparently, while she dreamt next to me after insisting on staying above the covers. So I wrapped the blanket around her like a taco so she wouldn't go cold, but it didn't quite reach over my second shoulder. I was shivering and trying
to seek refuge in the thought that I was sleeping next to the one person I wanted to, but when I kissed her she wasn't having it.
She's not stupid. She's like me and she knows what she's doing.
But why do I care? And why does that hurt my chances? I mean, I know why it does: I'm afraid to hurt my chances by saying something stupid, yet my careful calculations come out cold and rash and unsteady. If I could manage to act natural, maybe I'd be fine.
I'm trying out for some band tomorrow, which I will use as the crux for my decision of whether or not to stay in Chicago.
to seek refuge in the thought that I was sleeping next to the one person I wanted to, but when I kissed her she wasn't having it.
She's not stupid. She's like me and she knows what she's doing.
But why do I care? And why does that hurt my chances? I mean, I know why it does: I'm afraid to hurt my chances by saying something stupid, yet my careful calculations come out cold and rash and unsteady. If I could manage to act natural, maybe I'd be fine.
I'm trying out for some band tomorrow, which I will use as the crux for my decision of whether or not to stay in Chicago.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Work is kind of boring. Last night I got 400 cigarettes. The Cobra Skulls are great. I have a bad case of tunnelvision. It's been going on for a few weeks.
So this girl I'm into, she slept over last night. It was... well, really nice. No, no. I mean, it was really nice, but that doesn't quite cut it. "Beautiful" kind of belabors the point. I don't know. But I don't see her often, so the thought occurred to me: "I have four hours to genuinely express how I feel as she (probably begrudgingly) tries to say awake." So, I did what any awkward dude would do: I kept my mouth shut. Well, I let out a few I'm-really-glad-you-came-outs and I-think-you're-really-cutes, but tried to limit those as not to, y'know, belabor the point.
It was funny: last time she slept over she complimented me on not snoring. But! I caught her snoring this morning. Thing is-- and I suppose this is a common feature amongst cute people that are being observed by people who have a crush on them-- it was the cutest snore I've ever heard. It was so slight, almost dainty (if that word can be used to describe snoring).
I've probably discussed this here before, but my whole "game" is offset by this persistent girl who's into me. As Bella said, I should just man up and tell her I'm not interested. But it's tough, right? I mean, for me it's tough. I don't like letting people down, though I guess it'd be much more of a let-down to carry on as if we're on the same page. But there's something about having a few beers that makes me really hesitant to discuss important matters.
This whole Girl A and Girl B thing is very disenchanting. Well, no, not disenchanting. Ego shattering? That's more like it. Yeah. Ego shattering. I mean, I'd like to be more forward and properly court this girl to the extent that she's willing to take it, but I don't want to put her in the uncomfortable position that I'm in.
It's not too bad, right? I mean, I've never kissed this girl who's into me, and the girl who's into me doesn't seem to mind kissing me. That's comforting. But the words "fuck having a boyfriend" have come out of both of their mouths on numerous occasions, which brings me to my next point: on paper, these girls are very similar. They both smoke cigarettes and stay up late drinking and listening to music with me. Is one's desperation versus the other's cool confidence the only distinguishing feature? Well, maybe "desperation" isn't a fair word. "Persistence" works, though. Well, and one's noticeably cuter than the other.
I'm just perplexed at how my inability to tell this girl that I'm not interested is directly effecting my judgment and self-awareness. I really don't want to be that guy.
Here's a to-do list for tonight. Hopefully it will be carried out, but that's all on me. Duh.
-set things straight with Em and stop vilifying her.
-limit myself to two beers with Em.
-walk Em home and leave under the pretense that I'm heading to my mom's house to eat left-overs and sleep there in order to be on time for brunch in the morning (this one is completely fabricated, aside from the bold part).
-meet up with Bella -or- go home and practice guitar (I'm auditioning for a shitty punk band on Tuesday. Hopefully I'm good enough with power chords and bad lyrics).
-eat something. This one should go without saying, but coffee and cigarettes bestow on me the need to coordinate things to eat so as to avoid withering away.
I feel like hell. Work is boring because the stream of customers is weak. That's so say, every 20 minutes or so, someone will come in and buy a cup of coffee. This requires no skill and inspires no motivation to get stuff done.
Life is so boring
when you feel really smart
like the learning is over
'cause you mastered all the arts
but you make me feel stupid
so beautifully useless
like life is so full
of possible choices
So this girl I'm into, she slept over last night. It was... well, really nice. No, no. I mean, it was really nice, but that doesn't quite cut it. "Beautiful" kind of belabors the point. I don't know. But I don't see her often, so the thought occurred to me: "I have four hours to genuinely express how I feel as she (probably begrudgingly) tries to say awake." So, I did what any awkward dude would do: I kept my mouth shut. Well, I let out a few I'm-really-glad-you-came-outs and I-think-you're-really-cutes, but tried to limit those as not to, y'know, belabor the point.
It was funny: last time she slept over she complimented me on not snoring. But! I caught her snoring this morning. Thing is-- and I suppose this is a common feature amongst cute people that are being observed by people who have a crush on them-- it was the cutest snore I've ever heard. It was so slight, almost dainty (if that word can be used to describe snoring).
I've probably discussed this here before, but my whole "game" is offset by this persistent girl who's into me. As Bella said, I should just man up and tell her I'm not interested. But it's tough, right? I mean, for me it's tough. I don't like letting people down, though I guess it'd be much more of a let-down to carry on as if we're on the same page. But there's something about having a few beers that makes me really hesitant to discuss important matters.
This whole Girl A and Girl B thing is very disenchanting. Well, no, not disenchanting. Ego shattering? That's more like it. Yeah. Ego shattering. I mean, I'd like to be more forward and properly court this girl to the extent that she's willing to take it, but I don't want to put her in the uncomfortable position that I'm in.
It's not too bad, right? I mean, I've never kissed this girl who's into me, and the girl who's into me doesn't seem to mind kissing me. That's comforting. But the words "fuck having a boyfriend" have come out of both of their mouths on numerous occasions, which brings me to my next point: on paper, these girls are very similar. They both smoke cigarettes and stay up late drinking and listening to music with me. Is one's desperation versus the other's cool confidence the only distinguishing feature? Well, maybe "desperation" isn't a fair word. "Persistence" works, though. Well, and one's noticeably cuter than the other.
I'm just perplexed at how my inability to tell this girl that I'm not interested is directly effecting my judgment and self-awareness. I really don't want to be that guy.
Here's a to-do list for tonight. Hopefully it will be carried out, but that's all on me. Duh.
-set things straight with Em and stop vilifying her.
-limit myself to two beers with Em.
-walk Em home and leave under the pretense that I'm heading to my mom's house to eat left-overs and sleep there in order to be on time for brunch in the morning (this one is completely fabricated, aside from the bold part).
-meet up with Bella -or- go home and practice guitar (I'm auditioning for a shitty punk band on Tuesday. Hopefully I'm good enough with power chords and bad lyrics).
-eat something. This one should go without saying, but coffee and cigarettes bestow on me the need to coordinate things to eat so as to avoid withering away.
I feel like hell. Work is boring because the stream of customers is weak. That's so say, every 20 minutes or so, someone will come in and buy a cup of coffee. This requires no skill and inspires no motivation to get stuff done.
Life is so boring
when you feel really smart
like the learning is over
'cause you mastered all the arts
but you make me feel stupid
so beautifully useless
like life is so full
of possible choices
Friday, May 6, 2011
No, They Don't Mean a Thing.
what once was a prize
on your lone city street
decayed
and just wanted to die,
yeah, decayed
and just waited to die.
But it burned down
from the roof to the ground
and there's grass in the attic
and it's spreading to town
and the cans in the basement?
they're still underground
your prized coin collection:
stolen before it was found
the duct tape on the couches
shriveled up in the flames
yeah, all those lazy quick-fixes
now they don't mean a thing.
No, they don't mean a thing.
on your lone city street
decayed
and just wanted to die,
yeah, decayed
and just waited to die.
But it burned down
from the roof to the ground
and there's grass in the attic
and it's spreading to town
and the cans in the basement?
they're still underground
your prized coin collection:
stolen before it was found
the duct tape on the couches
shriveled up in the flames
yeah, all those lazy quick-fixes
now they don't mean a thing.
No, they don't mean a thing.
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