3:33 are you kidding me?

There was a band once, that I played bass in. The singer wrote this song that shared the title of this entry. He was up at some apartment that was either full of women, men, or both. He looked at the clock and couldn't believe the time.

This was almost 10 years ago.

I look at the time now and don't even think twice. I'm drunk or high or both. I'm working on finding a bed, finding a couch, or finding my own. Or either. I'm telling stories of lost friends, him, lost ways, mine, and lost hopes, ours.

The clock on the bookshelf is counting away my heartbeats; it's inching me closer to death. I leave and the counting stops. It moves to the next one in the room. Or the bookcase goes to a new apartment, a new room, a new hall. And that things holds books I've never read, from people I will never know, but leaves spots for the books that you gave back.

Those books sit on my counter and I have no space for them; I have no bookcase. But I'll keep them, and find a spot for them.

I got a new bookcase today.

I hope she has room for my books, my life, my shit, and me.

Going Back

I'm going back to Chicago.

Less than 12 hours I will be there.

I'll send picture updates. Maybe a written update.

I am totally excited. Stephanie is going with me.

I am at home, coming out of a drunken haze, waiting for here to show up. Our flight leaves at 6:52. If she isn't here in time, I'm taking the flyaway.

Someone who means a lot to me told me one time you have to make a decision, and give someone else the opportunity to come along. If they don't come, well, they don't.

They better.

For the girls in the photographs and the songs that don't remind me of them.

I've heard them talk about heartstrings. Apparently, they get pulled. I'm not sure if they have any other function, or if they even exist, but for the sake of the thoughts I am having, there are heartstrings, and they only get pulled.

I've lived on the edge of a lake once, for a couple of months. It was in walking distance, and I visited it once. It didn't occur to me that I lived so close to a huge lake until about fifteen minutes ago. This song came one that I listened to a lot when I lived in Northern California, and it talked about the lake. I thought "Wow! I used to live by that lake, and I only saw it once." It was winter, but still no excuse.

Things will pop into my life, and they blast in full speed. I will have never heard of something (i.e. the apparently shitty book/movie combo Twilight) and within a week EVERYONE I KNOW will be talking about it, telling me to listen to it, or read it, or see it, or eat it, or drink it, or fuck it. Whatever. This has happened most recently with "The Secret". I can't even spell that right, I had to fix it, so I have no idea what the secret is, but apparently it is about positive thinking and visualization and wasting money on books and movies and seminars. I think. More on this later.

I know a lot of women. I will feel good to say that a little more than half of all the people I know are women. Crazy, huh? I know! Anyways, maybe because of their personalities, or maybe because of male personality, or my broad shoulders or whatever, but a lot of my women friends and acquaintances complain to me about their lives. Friends, lovers, jobs, roommates, food allergies, and clothing. And they also are the ones who get into things like "The Secret" or "the 10 people you meet on the way to the liquor store" or whatever that one thing was called. I don't know.

The song about the lake got me thinking about someone. I'm pretty sure she hasn't graced these virtual pages. I've known her about a decade, off and on. She always seems to have some problem. Some guy, some job, no money, whatever. But she never seems to do anything about it.
She takes pin-up pictures, and shows them off to her friends, but that's all. Strange, really. She puts all this effort into something that she thinks might make her life happy, but not enough effort for it to actually change anything.

Life is pretty easy. Don't get me wrong, I've been sad. Butt-fuck-seriously sad. Moving-across-the-country-in-the-winter sad. I've been there. And I've been happy. Super-drunk-coke-party happy. Moving-across-the-country-in-the-winter-happy. I've lost jobs. I've given jobs back. I've lost friends. I've given friends back. People die. It sucks, yes. But everyday you meet someone new! Or at least you should. I don't need a book to tell me how to be happy. Or how to live my life. You can keep your Bible, and your Secret, and your Twilight, and your Harry Potter, and whatever else finally told you the obvious things about being happy in life.

If you want to be happy, do it.
If you want to fall in love, do it.
If you want to be famous, do it.
If you want to leave, do it.
If you want to write songs, do it.
If you want to die, do it.

I was trying to figure out if I had gone to that lake more often in Chicago would I have been happier. The one time I went it had been snowing for a day or something crazy. It was only a couple of days before I left. I went with Allison and it was awkward, uncomfortable, fun, sad and joyous at the same time. Everyday was those last two weeks. But I wasn't happy and I did something about it. It was entirely possible that I could have failed, or that if I would have stuck it out one more month, hit that mythical/magical three month mark I would still be there. But I didn't, and I'm not, and I'm happy.

So keep your books. I'll be over here in the corner, smiling.

streets...

I just watched a video where some punk kids set fire to a bunch of buildings in Chicago.
I think...
I've been listening to this Ben Folds song because of Whit for a good portion of my night.
I've been drinking cans of beer with my cat. and VH1.
I took a quick walk, to a liquor store, and a pharmacy, and a market, and all I bought was the beer I've been drinking.

I miss the streets of Chicago. Not so much the city, or maybe the circumstances, or maybe my inability to stand up for anything at any point. Really, I'm not that sure. But I know I miss walking those streets with a hundred places to go, with fifty buses passing me by, with twenty five bars to stop in and drink. I used to pass people on the street.

Now I just pass their empty containers.

someone

someone is waiting for me to come home. someone is waiting for me to leave.
someone is waiting for me to write another song. someone is waiting for me to never write again.
someone is waiting for me to calm down. someone is waiting for me to not stop.
someone is hoping this isn't the same as all the other times before. someone is thinking they know better.

me?

I'm just waiting for the train.

5:30, millions of things to say, but how?

i participated in a small celebration for someone born on leap day. They are 24 years old. They are also six, technically. In the course of the evening I was quoted poetry, given free drinks, and harassed for my life decisions. To say to someone that you will regret a choice you made in 5 years is easy. Life changes dramatically in 5 years. But to be attacked (barely) for deciding to do something about the happiness in your life? Whatever. Live and let learn. Live and let die. The list of things that other people think I will regret in five years (or in some cases less) is a very long list. Add your entry. Thank you for your input. Your opinion will be considered. I don't want to say it, let alone think it, but that same list you are carrying around in your pocket probably makes it hard to walk upright, maybe? At least at times I try, even if I have a tendency to fail.

the noise

Its 1 in the morning. Every night the same strange tapping noise comes from the apartment above and to the left.

It excites and interests me.

the trinty of blog posts. -mix, update, video day

Three things in one day. Pretty exciting.

When I was moving out here to Chicago a friend from high school said all road trips should have The Weight by The Band as part of the soundtrack. So as I embark on another path in life, I figure I'll start it out with that. My time in Chicago has come to an end. Come sunday around 11 am I will be a California resident. I am moving back into my old room. I don't have a job. I don't have a car. I don't have a bike. These things will work themselves out when I get there.

I could probably explain why I am going back, but I also can't. It is pretty much everything. I'll get in to specifics, but till then I have this mix. It might help explain. I fly on sunday, keep your fingers crossed for turbulence.

some things in my head - mix - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=4N4007AZ
Last Songs - The Gunshy
Attention All Pickpockets - the Mountain Goats
3am Qvc Shopping Spree Hangover - The Lawrence Arms
Francie Nolan - Lifetime
Tire Swing - Kimya Dawson
Get Big - Okkervil River
The Black And The Red - One Reason
Keep The Car Running - Arcade Fire
One More Time - Joe Jackson
People II: The Reckoning - Andrew Jackson Jihad
Bring on the Dancing Horses - Echo & the Bunnymen
Wherefore Art Thou, Elvis? - The Gaslight Anthem
P.S. New York Is Burning - Jawbreaker

...

I am existential crisis. I sit in a leather chair at a bookstore and talk with my mother. I want to make sure she is sober. I want to make sure she is ok. I just talk about myself instead. I tell her what I'm thinking, almost. SO i say goodbye and I walk down the street. The sun is down. It is cold. Cars drive past and their headlights bloom. It might be tears. It might be my eyes quiting on me. Strangers and their children look at me. They know. They can see it. I got rid of most of my stuff. I left some of it in the care of others. I took plains and buses to get 2,011 miles away, the long way. And what do I do? I still ask if you would like a PRESIDENTE margarita. I don't play guitar. I play it less, which I didn't think was possible. I don't write. I barely even think. Except for tonight. This light won't change. I don't change either. I have to cross the street. I have to make money. I have to pay rent. I have to be an adult. I am existential crisis. I can't change my mind. I can't give up. I cant retreat. I can't deem the whole experiment a failure. I can't try a different trajectory. I can't try a different location. I can second guess. And I do. And I will, no matter what happens. I'm standing on a corner waiting for a light to change, but I'm also riding in a car in the dark of the desert with a song playing, and I'm sitting in the back of a van on a nameless highway, and I'm looking out the window of an suv at some homes I'll never own and wondering why people kill and thinking I could never feel that way. Till I do. I am existential crisis. It shows on my face. My tables and coworkers think I'm tired. They ask if I'm sad. They ask if I'm drunk. They ask if I'm hungover. And I am. But not the way they get hung over. I forget to ask people how they want there meat cooked. Instead I standing on a balcony in the hills or lying naked in a car or screaming with all my heart or being screamed at. 365 days ago. I am a year older, a year of difference. But it feels like I just read a book about it. I get an extra day this year. I'll fuck it up like the rest. Not the rest of the world, but the rest of my days. I am existential crisis.

the outside is creeping inside

It's 6 degrees outside. Apparently it feels like -12. I want to be Dana Jacobsen.

a shitty day gets better

Yesterday I woke up and went to a job interview. It is to bartend at a gay sports bar. I figure guys always try to impress ladies with the tips they give them, so why not take advantage of it. SO at the interview they told me they didn't like my (literal) beard and that I would have to shave it off. Also through out the whole thing they talked down to me like I was 14 and have never been inside a bar before. I had felt good about the whole thing going into it, but this just made me feel like shit. It piled on the shrinking bank account and random pains of loneliness and made the day start to feel long and shitty. So what did I do?

I got a job at Pepper's.

Yup, I'm back slanging margaritas and hopefully corndogs for the man. I'm not excited, but my wallet and bank account are, and that will make my belly happy when I fill it with Old Style and tater tots. (Apparently tater tots are a hot bar food out here, I haven't partaken yet, but I'm excited to.) The up side to the whole thing is I don't have to learn anything new, I'll start bartending instead of having to work my way up at another restaurant. And it is a franchise, and Whit used to fascinate me with tales weaved of a glorious Pepper's in the northwest that was a franchise and pretty much kicked ass. So hopefully that's how it is here. I didn't hate the Pepper's in Sacramento, so I could like this one.

Then the day got better.

I hung out at a dance club with a guy who was a rep for BUSHMILLS, so I drank a bunch of it for free then I ate the largest slice of pizza ever. IT WAS HUGE!

And on the train ride home, my car was the happiest place on earth. There was a girl getting escorted most of the way home by a date/stranger. As soon as he got up another guy sat next to her and tried to pick her up. Two sisters sat next to each other and tried to crush the other one and laughed loud and hard. 4 guys argued about sports and tried to get a sing along started. A girl with afropuffs and he super tall company smiled and talked something very interesting I only caught glimpses of. And I sat there, drunk, being embraced by my new home. A nice hug it was.

how to get to Chicago while trying very hard

I made it to Chicago. It is a wonderful city. I am using someone else's computer, so no pictures or anything fun. Here is a summary of my trip pulled from myspace bulletins I was able to post while on the road. My shitty phone could access myspace, but not blogger. Strange. Enjoy. (I was going to clean up the spelling and everything, but this is more exciting.)

Dec 26, 2007 11:37 PM - i'm in bosie!
it is 1230 bosie time and i am sitting in a bus terminal. Bosie doesn't seem to be very awesome, but at least i'm not one of the poor folks waiting. there is no room on our bus and greyhound apparently likes to over sell. i don't know if it's the awesome lighting or what, but the world looks sad here. the buses are running about two hours behind, so i'll probably miss my transfer in denver tomorrow at 6pm. if you live there send me your number, i might need someone to drink with.

Dec 27, 2007 7:20 AM - salt lake city - homeless lady on the bus!
Someone gave a homeless lady a ticket, maybe. She has too much stuff to be homeless, so i think she just talks outloud a lot! We're supposed to be out of here at 730, and i think its 8 right now. There has been rumours about wyoming being fucked by snow, so we might be here a while. Greyhound is like the government, it doesn't tell you much, and he it does it's probably a lie. Anyone live here? I need a beer!

Dec 28, 2007 12:42 AM - and with that, the hero's journey changes suddenly
Apparently it snows in december. So much so that the entity known as greyhound has decided to send no busses east or north for at least 24 hours. From denver i still have 22 hours left on a bus. So instead of staying with the pigs in the sty and possibly missing the bears game sunday, i bought a plane ticket. Yup, the bus journey is over. It was better and worse than i had hoped. Expect a full recap when i can use a real keyboard and not my phone. I now must kill 5 hours in an airport. Easy!

Dec 28, 2007 9:19 AM - 36 HOURS, 3 TIME ZONES
i typed that and got that lip gloss song stuck in my head. strange. anyways, i'm in columbus ohio. they tried to land in chicago, but it was too awesome. so here i am. pretty much my life has turned into a holiday travel movie. the guy sitting next to me right now is big like john candy ;)

a little request

I don't know who still reads this. I had a punk rock principles attack a few months ago and took off all the tracking information. "you don't blog for other people, you blog for yourself." I don't know how many visitors I get, I don't know where they come from, and I don't know where they go after. It's ok. The traffic and my quality of posts were both on a steady decline.

So to the few people who read this, I would like to ask a favor...

a mix.

I'm going to be spending two days on a bus to Chicago. I am talking a discman, because I am old school.

So if you could make me a mix and email it or post it or just send me the list of songs, that would be awesome.

And in return I'll promise not to die and I'll put more stuff up.

Deal?

Deal.

things are falling into place

As of today, december 6th, at 2:06, I have a plane ticket to oregon, a bus ticket to chicago, and an apartment to move into in logan square. To say I am happy is an understatement.

And my crazy 85 year old grandmother thinks I am gay.

Good thing she doesn't know how to use the internet, she might think I love machines!

the neverending battle of will and want

the want: a pile of my possessions in the desert catching fire.
the will: a dirty bedroom floor.

the want: a single-finger salute to my bosses.
the will: a reverse goatee.

the want: writing new songs and singing them in circles with friends.
the will: practice? are we talking about practice?

the want: a family dinner.
the will: fake chicken, plastic plates, dr pepper.

the want: more life moments from john cusack movies.
the will: more life moments from a bootlegged movie.

the want: more.
the will: less.

on your last night in town

So tonight is your last night in town. You'll spend it in a house with ugly blue carpet with friends and drinks and your dog. You'll probably be doing some last minute packing. There will be some tears. Part of me wants to be there, but most of me knows it is better if I am not.

We spent some horrible times together these last few years. And we have spent just as many wonderful ones. There's been nights I wish I could never forget, but I will, and nights I want to throw away, but I will never be able to.

I've known of your existence for probably 15 years. We were friends for close to 10. We were more for 5. And now I don't know what we are. It is sad, but it is reality. For every mean thing I ever said I thought two sweet things. And for every time I broke your heart I broke my own too.

I've heard that you have said I am no longer the person you fell in love with. I agree. I haven't been that person in a couple of years. You are no longer the girl I feel in love with either. But you can't be nineteen forever, right? If there is anything I have realized in these recent months is that we constantly reinvent little parts of ourselves, and if you are too close to the fire you don't notice it getting stronger or dying out. Piece after piece, thought after thought, love after love, they all add up and before we know it we are different.

In 24 hours you'll be on the road with your now ex-roommates, in another state, on your way to another one, and more after that. You'll see things you have never seen before, and things that are familiar. Days will pass. Then weeks, then months, and years. And we will forget the things we said that we meant, and the things we didn't. We'll forget the sunsets and the trips and the fights and the songs. And one day you'll wake up to realize you haven't thought of me in a long time, and you will smile, and you will be happy.

Or you won't.

I don't want to tell you to be safe, I want to tell you to be strong. I don't want to tell you to be careful, I want to tell you to be consistent. I don't want to tell you to forget me, but you should. I don't want to tell you good bye, but I will.

Goodbye.