More naked blogging

I'm sitting in front of the computer, naked. I need to shave, my face, and get ready for work. I'm not in the mood. So I am going to spend the little time I use shaving to update this little guy. I'm moving again over the next few days. Back into a house, but a house I've never lived in. I was over there earlier today and was worried there wouldn't be a window of my own, but there is, and that makes me excited. I'll show everyone when I'm settled.

That is probably the largest unspoken problem with the apartment I've lived in these last almost 12 months. I don't have a window.

Safe and Sound

I am at home. I have been for a while now. Chicago was wonderful. It made me happy. My good friend Dan got married, and it was beautiful, I am glad I know him and his beautiful wife. I am going to hang out with some friends tonight and make a mix tomorrow. I register for classes on Tuesday, I am excited. Some parts of my life are a little scary now, but they are going to work out. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow.

Vegan BBQ stick party at the TASTE

Mmmmmm, Old Style

4 wheeled cops!

p.s.

pray for turbulence.

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.

twitter and a new picture

I need a new picture, for the little one on the side.

http://twitter.com/boothis86d

Expect some good things from that!

one more for the road

Looking at old posts.

This one was about Stephanie, before anyone knew her.

http://sinkintothepacific.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-hear-that-sometimes-you-fall-into-old.html

Life is pretty intense sometimes.

the one about ripping of titles of friends episodes

Isn't that how they used to title episodes of friends? "The one about (insert thing that probably isn't very funny, or explain much about the episode, so if you were looking through an online database of Friends episodes and you wanted to watch your favorite episode, which happened entirely in the coffee shop, and looked for "the one about not leaving the coffee shop" but it was actually called "the one where Nietzsche has nothing on Ross" you would be totally fucked, which would make you hate that episode and in turn hate Friends.)"

Right?

That's how they did it, isn't it?

Is Friends secretly responsible for my inability to name song titles appropriately?

Something I was kind of thinking about. I'm working on starting this story idea I have in my head. It might be too long though. So, I don't know, I'll figure it out.


At some point when I was taking English 102 about, fuck, I don't know, 7 years ago, I was obsessed with making this little short film. All it was about was this women smoking cigarettes while this guy walked out of the bathroom in a towel, put on his clothes, and left without saying good bye. He did open to door after leaving to say "Oh, you left your lights on" and then it faded to black. I wanted the girl to be a bleach blond with lots of roots and lipstick in quantities to match. A girl who was in my English 102 class could have played the woman perfectly. She also had an extremely sexy/mostly cute Texan accent. Too bad all she did in the film was smoke a cigarette. I also wanted her to be sitting on a bed with lots of shitty wood paneling on the walls. The apartments I live in have that paneling, well, not my apartment, but most of the others, and I walked past an open window today and saw it and it suddenly reminded me of that film I wanted to make.

I'm curious as to what the story was behind that film. It showed up fully developed one day. Just shit itself into my brain. I'm sure there is some exciting back story having to do with a woman who broke my heart, but I don't know what that is, not anymore.

I'm going to get back to starting that story I have bouncing around in my head. Have a good fathers day.

P.S. - I'm going to major in creative writing at CSUN. It's is going to go swimmingly.

Good news!

ellipsis

Let the times begin

I just finished my last paper of the semester. I have a few tests still, but no more will my time in front of the computer be tied to academic pursuits, at least not for a few months.

TIME TO WRITE!

lets try this again.... AGAIN!

I Have no idea what happened with the other one, lets hope this works - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=GIBA8JZ0

The Soundtrack to Rocky 7

I made a mix, and I was trying to name it, and I thought "This would be the worst soundtrack to a Rocky movie ever". I don't know how that came together, it just sort of did. I'll post the link at the end, but no info, just gotta download it.

It took me 4 days to write a paper. Most of it was just thinking about it and putting it off, but I finished it tonight. Stephanie is hanging out in Ventura, so it is just me and the cat. I went to 7-11 and bought a 32 of High Life and a 20 of Diet Coke. I don't want to start drinking rum and diets, I wish I would have bought a larger beer. Damn shame. I'm thawing soyrizo on top of the stove and I'm going to cook it up with some potatoes o'brian. (Potatoes: In sixth grade (1993-1994) I ran for vice president of the class, and on my poster I wrote " I can spell potatoe!" and the "e" had an x through it. The kids didn't really get it. What a shame.) A friend of mine and I are exchanging texts about questionable sexual deciscions. I was listening to the mix, now the new Lilly Allen cd, which I downloaded illegally. (I bought somewhere in the neighborhood of 500+ cd's from 96 to 2006 or so, so I download music illegally, because there are a lot of those cd's I would never transfer to my computer. I gave a lot of shitty bands my 18 bucks back in the day. I am ok with it.) I am not tired at all. It is 1:10 am, and I could go 3 or 4 more hours. I make a lot of energy, naturally. It is pretty exciting.

Now I must cook and drink more. Maybe write another quick story. Funny thing about the last one, Amelia, was it was supposed to say IN the shower, but I thought it gave to much away. That is what the gentlemen is doing though.

HUGS!

http://www.mediafire.com/?yl4jhwvwmkm - The Soundtrack to ROCKY 7 - a mix

Today I tried to ruin someone's life

At one of the last tables I had today at Pepper's, I tried to ruin one of the ladies life.

It came out quickly in the server/table exchanges that she was getting married next Saturday, and that this was her last meal before her bachelorette party. She was having lunch with her mother.

So I tried, I tried to ruin her life.

I was going to be the most charming, handsome, charismatic, funny, fuckable waiter with a moustace that she had ever had wait on her. I laid it on thick. We talked about puking, and penis straws, and lemons, and wedding jitters. She was laughing, and smiling, and had a good meal, and I was 95% responsible.

Now, I still want her to get married, I just wanted her to second guess her decision a couple of more times before she follows through with it.

So, to the blonde bride-to-be with the Hello Kitty bank card: Good Luck tonightat saddleranch! Do shots, kiss your friends, where a dick candy on your shirt, grind up against some greasy club guy and ride the bull. Make sure you ride the bull.

I'm sure she will be fine.

Apartment 108

Randy is 28. He lives in apartment 108. His building is small, enough. The other residents only know his name from the mailboxes out front. His is the only one with both a first and last name. The tag is also not centered like the rest of the tags. The color is worn. It has been like that for 10 months.

Every Thursday Randy takes a late lunch. He walks around the corner from his office to his favorite pupuseria. It not his favorite for the food, the food was fine. It is his favorite because it is the closest place by his office to get the new issue of L.A.WEEKLY. He brings back whatever random thing he orders to his office and opens the L.A. WEEKLY. He goes straight to the personal ads and spends the rest of his time at work on the phone with various agencies, working out the specifics of his reservations. It is the same every week.

Friday night he gets home at 6:05. Every week, 6:05. He takes two side streets and rolls one stop sign to pull into his space at the same time. Randy carries his lunch bag and avoids contact with any neighbors that might be out.

Thursday is the only day he doesn’t bring his lunch to work.

6:25, his phone rings. “Randy?” “Yeah, let me buzz you in”.

There are two quick knocks on apartment 108. Randy lets the young women in. Her hair is long, a couple of inches below her bra strap, or where it would be, and dark. Usually he likes it longer, but this will work. He locks the door behind her, which startles the woman, but she sees the money sitting on the coffee table. Her quick counts makes out a few bills adding up to 275 dollars, a little more than what was agreed, and that makes her slightly more comfortable.

Randy leads her to the bedroom. The bed is made, the floor is clean, there are a couple framed posters hanging on the wall and one picture on the nightstand, Randy and a women with dark hair.

The conversation is short and specific. “I must have music playing”, “Your hands must be here”, “Please be quiet” and “Please don’t smile”. She follows every order, though typically that is not her specialty.

Randy pushes play on tape deck. The first song starts slow. Kick drum, then cymbals, then some bass. Funky, but not funky enough. Randy stands behind the women and spends a very short time exploring her body. The songs keep playing, he doesn’t say a word, and neither does she. Each song is getting louder, each song is picking up pace, but Randy’s mood does not change. The seventh song, she’s been counting, slows dramatically. This doesn’t affect him at all. The last song fades out and Randy gets off of the bed. He slides open closet door, puts on a yellow robe, and gives the women a twenty-dollar bill. “The rest is on the coffee table in the living room. Thank you.”

The woman says nothing. She gets off of the bed and starts to put her clothes on. She looks at Randy, but he is in the bathroom and has just turned the shower on. She finishes getting dressed and grabs her money as she leaves apartment 108.

Randy takes off his yellow robe and steps into the shower. He faces the showerhead and puts his head down, letting the water stream down his face. He holds his hands around his eyes, making a scuba mask, the way she showed him that day in the hills. A few tears mix with the water. He turns around and tries to finish his shower. He can’t. It has been 10 months.

Who wasnts some hollandaise?

I do.

I work in a couple of hours. Then I get to spend my Friday night writing a comparison paper on two works by Virgina Woolf. Why not, right?

Back to the hollandaise. A month or so ago I started going out to breakfast on Sunday mornings. It was nice, to sort of start a tradition. I had Eggs Benedict for the first time, no ham, meat is murder you know. They were very good. I drank probably six cups of coffee and got all shaky. I haven't been out for breakfast on Sundays for a while now. I miss it. Breakfast is such a good time, the more company the better.

I woke up this morning with the face of a girl I had a one night stand with in my head. I wonder how she is these days. I have no way of finding out, it is probably better that way.

The dream I had after I woke up the first time, but before I got out of bed, was about myself walking around a mall with a friend from high school. I haven't seen him since his wedding, 6 or 7 years ago. In the dream we talked about how he followed this very standard path to success, and how it was nice, to be able to afford the peacoat and scarf he had on, but that I didn't envy him. What that all means, and where it's going, I have no idea.

It was a nice coat, but it didnt fit me.

Return of the naked blog

An impromptu list of times I have either cried or been naked:

• Now
• On this couch in a beach house in Oxnard, CA
• Standing on a train platform
• At a doctors office
• Watching porno
• Watching Must Love Dogs
• Eating pizza
• Drinking wine
• While laying on top of a car
• At bill's wedding (both are possible)

Just something to think about on this wonderful Cinco De Mayo. Tonight, Coronitas!

The worst band ever...

I know one guy, he likes this band, The Verve. His taste, obviously, is almost the worst of people I know. I was thinking of him today.

I was watching some concert compilation, and at the beginning of the only song I have ever heard by them, and probably the only song you have ever heard by them, the guy pulls down his American Apparel v-neck so he can put the mic to his chest.

What?

Huh?

I guess to illustrate the importance of the song. I guess.

You don't hear anything.

Whatever.

The Verve sucks.

My First Shot

It was my junior year in high school. I was 16. It was Easter break. Not spring break. Spring break was brought into the lexicon by people who want to remove all aspects of Jesus Christ from American culture, the same people who write x-mas on their Christmas decoration boxes after the holiday is done. (See? I can totally pull off all that crazy christian school stuff I was subjected to all those years!)

My friend Nick and I were across the street from his house, at his neighbor Cade's place. We had bought weed (for the first time!) a couple of days before and we were picking it up from Cade. He was nice enough to break it all down for us, so we didn't smoke any stems or anything. He probably took some for himself, but that's what happens when you let someone else handle your drugs. We were probably going to go BBQ or something else that day, but at the moment we had nothing going on.

Cade was 18, a senior at another high school, and lived alone. Yup. He had his own little 2 bedroom house. He was artsy, dark, and a little nuts. He blew away my 16 year old mind. And he got laid ALL THE TIME. By very attractive girls, and women.

So Nick and I are standing around in his bedroom, probably listening to Dr. Octagon, hearing some story about SOMA's, fucking, and hamburger meat. (Maybe.) We decide to leave, so Cade opens his sock drawer to get our weed, and there is a bottle of liquor there too. I say "What's that?"

Goldschlager.

Cade tells us about it. I had never heard of it before. My family like their Jack Daniels. And Smirnoff. And Beefeater. And Bud Light. But not this stuff! Cade asks if we'd like some. I decline, but then, he sells it.

"That stuff floating around in there, that's real gold."

Done. I say sure.

Warm. Straight from the bottle. Goldschalger.

My shot virginity was gone.

I coughed, rub my chest and shook my head. (I still do that.) There were gold flakes on my lips.

It was wonderful.

We said our goodbye's and thank you's and I drove home, buzzed, from my first shot of liquor.

Pre-work-meditation

It gets old, being told everything is your fault.
It gets old, being told you are a mistake.
It gets old, trying to work out problems.
It gets old, trying to stay quiet.
It gets old, wanting to run away.
It gets old, wanting to not be responsible.
It gets old, the apologies.
It gets old, the revisionist.

Things are fine, or they will be when I get home from work.

Friday is MAYDAY. It will be nice to put the things that keep me up in the mornings on a different shelf then the one they reside.

A story later, ok?

The rapid onset of age and what I know about it

In a day or so a friend of mine starts his last year before 30. Another friend just started 30. I know a kid who is going to be 6 in a month. I think it is 6, I'm not sure. I can think of someone's birthday for every month except for October. There is this one guy, but I haven't seen him in years, he doesn't count. Age seems to be catching up fast. I still feel about 22. I know a lot more than I did at 22, about everything, but, inside, I'm still 22. Just to catch you up, here's 22 for me:

• November 16th, 2004 to November 15th, 2005.
• I was finishing my time at Bed Bath and Beyond, and starting my time at Pepper's.
• I was not single, then I was, then I wasn't.
• I lived in 2 different houses.
• I opened a savings account.

There is other stuff that happened, but that is what comes of the top of my head now. What is it that "they" say sometimes? The more things change, the more they stay the same? I can see that. I rememer having a conversation with my dad on his couch, telling him I was going to get married, I was going back to school, and I was moving.

See?

Details are not important. But it happened. The conversation, at least.

Oh yeah, age. My body makes funny noises now when I move at night. I don't rebound as fast as I used to. I know more things, but am forgetting how to interact with people, especially people I love. I give up sooner, even without giving up. I worry about things I didn't used to, but none of those things are houses, kids, careers or success. I have less friends, but they mean more.

So where am I? Canoga Park? Yea. In love? Yes. Sleeping on the couch? Sometimes. Lonely? Sad? Bored? Cold? Excited? Lost? Emotional? Old? Happy? Check, check and check, infinity!

There is no impending doom. There are bad days, but more good days. There are lost nights, but more found days. I like to think I have it figured out, a least part of it, but I say the worng thing, or let the wrong thing hurt me, or let the right thing keep me occupied, and then I realize it is all gone.

It is hard, most days, but it is worth it, and it feels good.

Too happy? Too sad? I don't know.

I've been thinking of friends I've lost, and what my friends have lost, and what I need, and what I miss, and the holes aren't as big as they used to be, but I don't know how to tell anyone.

So, here's this: Thank you. For the snowy walks, for the glimmer you gave to a friends eye, for the tears we had, for the laughs we will have, and for every day to come.

We will get it right, I promise.

Live blog from the rattling the honea gowing away party

Bikes and bridges

The thing I truly learned from Chicago

Was to not use toliet seat protectors in public restrooms. No place
ever had them, and now I don't use them.

Sent from my iPhone while pooping at work. Happy 300th post.

In 13 minutes and 45 seconds: PIZZA

Spring break has started. I worked a little and left early. I spent some time with Stephanie, and made a great burrito. (Yes, you can put fake chicken nuggets, boiled potatoes, nacho cheese, black beans, jalapenos and hot sauce in a huge tortilla and not be disappointed.) Rode my bike, walked to the store and now am drinking a 40 and waiting for pizza.

I've got a bunch of exciting things running through my head. There is a definite short story, a couple more songs, maybe a picture idea or two. I am definitely excited for this new, fresh bout of creativity.

Even if I am starting to swim in a sea of self doubt. I'm getting closer to thirty faster than I feel is necessary. I don't see the people I care about enough if at all (that's you, Whit, and parents). I'm feeling more lonely in the city. I'm doubting the possibility of creating a family, including my desire to. School is kicking my ass, but only because I don't care. Things are getting rough.

But my good friends are getting married, my cat sit next to me when I blog (and wakes me up at 6:45 for food, which is ok lately), I have my health, I have music, and I am getting more comfortable with the fact that that things like family, my future, my friends and my own marriage don't have to happen or work out the way I thought they would for them to still work out.

This is post 299. Post 300 will be a picture from the early stages of my road trip to San Francisco. I would give you more, but, sometimes, that is all I have.

Spring break starts soon.

I'm not as prepared for this women in literature midterm as I could
be. Spring break starts when it's done, I'm going to San Francisco. I
have a hard time maintaining my desire to finish school. So I'll take
this test and then reevaluate it in a week.

I told you...

non vegan delights and punk rock

I have had this window open for a couple of hours. Inspiration has been zapped. I am going to cook a grilled cheese club and listen to Propagandhi.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Back at the airport

Imaging chasing the dragon in a fancy bathroom

The joy of anonimity...

Most of the people

I found the drum circle

On the yellow bridge

Standing in a dirt lot

Anarchists ?

Landed

Inflight turbulance

Going to Sacramento

to march against budget cuts to the community college system in California.

I'll put some pictures up as things happen!

A couple of thoughts as I drink tea this morning.

Octomom makes me sick to my stomach. Pretty much everything about her. The babies, new and old. The media frenzy. The reality show. (I'm not sure if there is one, but there has to be, right?) And the fact that I know about her to begin with.

Nostradamus was a genius. I doubt he is right, but man that guy was in the right place at the right now. Writing a bunch of stuff, and, as I am finding out today, drawing a bunch of stuff that is vague enough to convince most people he could see the future? Pure Genius.

Tea is done. I am done. Time for school.

Birthdays for babies

This girl I know is having a birthday. It's a strange mix of people
who are younger than me. It's par for the course at this point. There
are songs playing that have no bearing over my life, but these kids
love them. But this isn't about that, it's about this.

This guy named Anthony is getting left, and it's not me.

Tonight was, apparently, a do or die night. And he died. That's his
fault, not mine. I used to worry about that stuff, but now I concern
myself with myself.

It's been interesting to watch though, because he's been fucking up
every chance he's had. He's dozed off next to me for about 26
minutes. Poor bastard.

At least he is spared from the Sublime sing-a-long, no one deserves
this.

Sent from my iPhone

Shopping is hell, punk is dead

Taken at Forever 21, in Woodland Hills. I was very hungover.

Test

This totally a test to see if I can blog mobile.

Dear Miss Backer,

Your two items that were the entirety of your purchase are as follows:

1. Ground Turkey (probably for burgers)
2. Cat Litter (probably for a littler box)

The original color of your hair was peaking out of your scalp, most likely to be taken care of before the next night you took those two well manufactured mounds more commonly called breasts out on the town. (My teachers would call that a run on sentence; it would be hell to diagram.) Your purse was large enough to fit 6 gold bars and probably cost 3. I saw you drive away in your H3, with its H3 license plate frame, just in case some one didn't notice the H3 symbol above the other H3 symbol. You drove over two double yellow lines to go about your business, I did too.

I imagine you at home now, yoga pants and sports bra. Your hair is up in a bun, your cat is curled up next to a fireplace, or a wall heater. Turkey, uncooked. Cat box, unfilled. Text messages on an Iphone plan some future night of possible infidelity, for someone. A throw pulled over your feet and a bottle of smartwater sits on the end table. Are you smarter than a 5th grader? Yes. Yes, you are.

this time last year

Last year, this day, the 8th day of February, I was freaking out. Freezing on the inside and outside. I'm still freaking out, but in different ways. I want to write more, but I got wrapped up in archives and have to go to work. School starts tomorrow, its been raining.

Lately when I get upset (read: wanting to punch or cry) I clean. The kitchen gets it first, then the living room. I leave the bedroom alone. Strange.

I found some lost minutes

and filled them with shots of Jack Daniels and nice shirts. Must get started dancing. Pictures tomorrow. Maybe.

twenty days...

A friend of mine started a blog the other day. He told me about it. I like it. It reminds me of those days a couple of years ago, I wouldn't say they were better, or more exciting, but they were different. There are routines, and they change. There are constant faces, and they change. There are pets, kitchens, jobs, loves, fears, desires, destinations and dream vacations, and they all change.

This lack of writing is really frustrating, and I'm the only one to blame. There are hundreds of unused minutes in every day. If I string them together I can find all the time in the world to do anything.

In honor of my friends list, a list of things that have happened to me in the last twenty days.

1. I smashed my finger.
2. I saw mostly naked pictures of a co-worker.
3. I won a party.
4. I celebrated a birthday for someone I couldn't pick out of a lineup.
5. I rode bicycles to a bar, and back.
6. I cooked Falafel.
7. I got Noam Chomskitty high.
8. I wrote a song.
9. I made a mix.
10. I slow danced in the kitchen.
11. I received a large tip from a man with a leprechaun voice.
12. I surprised a friend in Long Beach.
13. I went back to SDSU.
14. I got into a shouting match.
15. I made pigs-in-a-blanket.
16. I saw a new band comprised of 2 people I really respect and a third I should.
17. I saw Andrew Jackson Jihad at a punk house, for the second year in a row, and made new friends.
18. I have a new President.
19. I hung out with a wonderful dog named pancakes.
20. I failed at making Magic Rocks. Sorry Imperceptible.

Tonight, I will listen to a friends radio show, drink beer, cook spinach enchiladas and kiss a beautiful women.

I am busy, and happy.

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.

12 months of 2008, plus one - mix

It's almost 6pm, New Years Eve. I have no plans. I'm waiting to figure out what I'm doing, so I made a mix. One song for each month of 2008, plus a bonus one for next year. I hope this finds you happy, safe and excited for what 2009 will bring you.

12 months of 2008, plus one - http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?wqxjgem5gmg
January - Over And Out - Alkaline Trio
February - This Is A Fire Door Never Leave Open - The Weakerthans
March - Channel The Boss - Deepshit, Arkansas
April - This Year - The Mountain Goats
May - The Radiator Hums - Cursive
June - Humble Narrator - Two Cow Garage
July - Big Casino - Jimmy Eat World
August - Moab - Conor Oberst
September - Jinx Removing - Jawbreaker
October - The Swiss Army Romance - Dashboard Confessional
November -Caleb's Grave - Drag the River
December - I Gave Too Much Time To The Wine - The Gunshy
2009 - 100 Resolutions - The Lawrence Arms

filling the silent apartment

with the sounds of the Pogues the day after Christmas. filling my empty belly with a too strong hot chocolate/peppermint schnapps drink that is cold now. I've switched to the postal service for some inspiration if I start messing around with a synth tonight. Christmas went well. I couldn't get full, and I couldn't get drunk, and I tried all day. This time last year I was sitting on a bus. Remeber that? I think my seat mate had prison ozzy tattoos on his hand. My nose is peeling and I don't know why. It seems to be that time where I am running into people I haven't seen in a few years. It is all starting to feel very strange. 2009 will be a banner year, much like 2007 I imagine.

2008, you've let me down and made me feel like a prom queen. Seriously.

A series of thoughts as I sit around pre-gaming.

Pre-Gaming.

That is what I am doing.

What is it?

Well, its the drinking you do before you go out drinking.

• I'm not sure if buttered toast is a bar snack anywhere, but it going really well with my beer right now.
• Christmas came really fast this year. Last year it was an afterthought with the big move and everything, but wow, it got here fast. I was at a store 5 days ago and they were selling discount Christmas lights. I guess if you put them up in October you don't need them 12 days before like I did.
• I'm going to an Ugly Christmas Sweater party tonight. Does this mean office ladies get together and have Tight T-Shirt/Tight Pants parties? Do they stand around dress like I do and drink beer from cans with koozies and laugh at how ridiculous they look? When I walk into their place of business do they almost want to ask me where I got my Tight T-Shirt like I do when they wear their ugly sweaters into Peppers?
• Did I mention I'm working at Pepper's again? It's way better than the glory days, that's for sure.
• I finished my first semester of school since I think before I was able to drink legally. I feel very proud, but I could have done better.
• Noam Chomskitty doesn't like it when I pet his FUPA. I am making him fat.
• Canoga Park can get really cold. Not Chicago cold, not even close. But wearing a tshirt and shorts in November will make your body forget how cold it once was.

Well, time to go party. Maybe a picture tomorrow?

Best of 2008 - mix

I know some people, and they know some people, and those two groups have been making Top Ten Albums of 2008 Lists. I thought about doing it, and in listening to some of the albums that came out this year I realized there were a bunch I liked a lot, and a bunch I sort of liked with a couple really kick ass songs. So I decided to make a mix of my favorite songs from 2008. They are in no particular order, and they are all over the place. Its too long for a cd, sorry. 26 songs to listen to that week between Christmas and New Years when you either don't drink enough or you drink too much. Plus, as Bill pointed out when I told him about it, this way people can hear some new stuff. So, enjoy.

Best of 2008 - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=BI9PCTH0
1. My Year In Lists - Los Campesinos
2. Stay Positive - The Hold Steady
3. Sleep With No Bad Dreams - Good Luck
4. Drunkasauras Rex - Madison Bloodbath
5. Let's Dance To Joy Division - The Wombats
6. 5 Twenty 5 - Tim Barry
7. Ten Years Trouble - Off With Their Heads
8. First Song - Gordon Gano's Army
9. Cappuccino - The Knux
10. The Dirt Whispered - Rise Against
11. In The Craters On The Moon - The Mountain Goats
12. Drunk By Noon - The Measure [SA]
13. The Darling Days - The Gunshy
14. Shell Game - Banner Pilot
15. We Are Wild Stallions - The Riot Before
16. Juno - Tokyo Police Club
17. You - Atmosphere
18. Anna Is A Stool Pigeon - Tom Gabel
19. Walcott - Vampire Weekend
20. Little Brother - Dead To Me
21. Cath... - Death Cab For Cutie
22. Calling And Not Calling My Ex - Okkervil River
23. A Little Bit Cooler - The Cool Kids
24. Dear Sir - Bridge And Tunnel
25. A Jingle for the Product - Dillinger Four
26. Candle In The Wind (Ben's Song) - Andrew Jackson Jihad

Its good to know you're doing fine...

...with no reason to call.

I am bad at calling people. I'm bad at calling them when I think of them, or calling them back.

I blog more often than I talk on the phone.

Weird, huh?

I'm not sure what it is.

But for christmas, everyone is going to get a phone call. So if you want one, email me.

wordless wednesday. the first blogger to show up in geography class.

this year it is is this one, last year it was that...

The last two years, more than the years before, I have had a specific song play over and over in situations that would later become important.

Last year it was the song at the end of this post. Those times are another story entirely. This post is for the moments so far concerning the video above...

There is a radio station out here that considers itself indie, and apparently that just means they don't come in very well. (I'm kidding, they are really good, but their reception is shit.) I heard the song one night driving my car, or Stephanie's car, I don't remember. A few days later the video was on the "on demand" part of our cable box and I watched it 10-12 times. (It is on repeat as I type this, to put me in the mood.)

I've had some rough spots the last 2 months. I don't document them even though I would like to. Long story short, I am where I want to be, and a good portion of the people I surround myself with are not. Believe me, I wish I could, but I can't. I feel like Island Girl.

My loneliest nights and days have had this song attached. Some of the worst thing said to me have had this song attached.

I am both sides of this song. I am neither. I am this song. I am not.

and the bath came back, the very next day...

I took a bath today. It was my first since turning 26. It was nice. My body is sore. A bunch of friends got together yesterday to play flag football. Apparently there are muscles in my chest and around my "core" that don't get any work. Those muscles don't like me today. I don't like them either. But as a gift to mend our rift I offered them a bath. They accepted and seem to be more comfortable. I'm going to walk to the store and buy some stuff to cook.

I have 2 days to apply to a university. I have no idea where to go.

Any ideas?

slouching towards 30...

If there was a hill, and i was my twenties, well, now I am on the back side of said hill. Sunday I turned 26. Monday I recovered. I'm closer to 30 now than 20. That's what happens, right?

I've been in the process of neglect. I've neglected my bike, I've neglected my reading, I've neglected my cooking and I've neglected this. So, for probably the 17th time I'm going to make this thing more regular. I spend a lot of time sitting around watching people become chefs, best friends, fashonistas, sluts and drunks in a little box, I should be able to tear myself away for 15 minutes and throw together some picture with some anecdote about Noam Chomskitty getting neutered or throwing up arm in arm with a girl on my birthday. (That's the new Booth birthday tradition, two years running!)

Imperceptible was nice enough to send me some stuff in the mail. I'll take some pictures.

Hide your VW's I'm feeling frisky...

25 and no posture

I spent the evening making the apartment a home. I cleaned, vacuumed, and cooked dinner. For a while it worked.

A recently friendly face had decided to head back to Florida. I made the 5 minute walk to the bar to say so long. I keep collecting going away parties, hoping the ones for others outweigh my own. They might all be the same, drinks and smokes and bad music. Coworkers doing their best impression of friends, saying the things you are supposed to say so in a couple days it won't hurt to realize you forgot they left. I share a couple of shots, never with the person of honor, and exchange a couple of stories about the nights before I came around and what they used to do. The bar closes it's doors and everyone piles into their cars. I walked back, this time its a little colder and I walk a little faster. I cross the street when I'm not supposed to and I see my reflection in the windows of the diner as I walk past. I realize I'm slouching, and I have been for years. I straighten up and things are better when I get home.

The hours I've been spending alone are adding up like someone else losses on the market. Me? I'm just trying to make it out alive.

stealing other people's democracy, all by myself

There is a video floating around of a bunch of people telling other people to not vote. I think they are kidding. But they also say they are going to wait around for me to register to vote. So, I'm not register, and I'm not going to. Interesting?

I'm not going to link to that video, but I'll link to this one, it doesn't talk down to me.

More on this whole election thing to come.

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.

7 things i think about while drinking beer alone in the apartment

in no particular order.

1. why does the number 7 always make me think of jesus?
2. if someone with a lot of credibility told me the things i did affected other peoples lives I didn't know, would i believe them?
3. seriously, punk rock should make everyones day better.
4. when I become a teacher, will I be able to do all the things I want to?
5. or will everyone have to read that book about the red fern growing?
6. will dan ever play music again?
7. why doesn't anyone deliver burritos?

wow, what a life.

Blogging as an existance

I would love to blog for a living. But I would get to distracted by fantasy football, death cab for cutie youtube videos and waiting for checks in the mail to get anything done.

I just wanted to post something today.

Her name was Jessica

I met her sometime during my junior year. She was a transfer to our little private school community. I remember having a science class with her. And I remember one of my good friends was trying to pick up on her. I was making out with a different girl named Jessica who I had a crush on the previous year but now decided to return the favor. I got invited to a birthday party by a girl who was a couple of years younger than me who I was kind of friends with. I wanted to buy her a present, so I asked if this new girl Jessica wanted to go to the mall with me. At this point my friend wasn't trying to pick her up anymore. After we went shopping there was a couple of hours until I had to take her home and go to this party. I half jokingly asked her if she wanted to go make out. She said sure. I took her to my mother's boss house, who was in England. We took a pad off of a pool lounge chair and put it on the ground and started making out. I got to second base as fast as I could but got stopped there. I spent the next 45 minutes or so with my hand up a shirt, sloppy kisses on my mouth and grinding my crotch into hers, jean on jean. I still remember how uncomfortable that felt. I took her home, we laughed and joked the whole way to her place. We hung out a few more times, hooked up and enjoyed each others company. Then she started dating someone, and I think I started dating someone and we just stayed friends.

About 9 months later I was keeping myself occupied with random girls and thoughts of college and everything that happens the last months of your senior year. My parents were in the process of splitting up. They still lived at the same house but spent a lot of time with the people who would become my steps. One particularly lonely afternoon I called Jessica. I invited her over. We hadn't hooked up since Christmas the year previous probably, or maybe later, or sooner, I don't remember. When she showed up at my door the first thing she said was that she wasn't going to kiss me. I hugged her and said no problem. We walked through my empty house to my bedroom. I think she had been over before, probably for a party. I put on some cd that was killing me at the time and we sat on the bed. Soon we were laying together, sort of spooning, sort of anxious, sort of distant. I think she said she had changed, that she didn't do that sort of stuff anymore. I told her again that it was ok. I told her I wasn't looking for that. She asked what I was looking for. I told here I just wanted someone there, someone to help fill the empty house, but life back into the coffin that had become my bed, my room, my house, my life. She looked shocked, a little. She hadn't signed up for this. I didn't know what she expected. Probably to repeatedly push away my advances. Maybe to give in. Maybe early afternoon sex. Maybe a bible reading. But she didn't get any of that. She just laid there next to me with a hand in my hair until she had to go home. And she left.

We didn't mention that afternoon. We rarely talked, except for school stuff and mild gossip at lunch. I think she is married now with a kid. And on that one day she did more than she will ever know for me.

Burritos!

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Dear VMA's...

No, I haven't watched them, but I'm going to. I was too busy watching the Bears beat up the Colts. Surprise, I know. I am watching the post show though, and I am confused. Is this where we are? 9 years removed from Nine Inch Nails debuting new music on live television? Say what you will about Nine Inch Nails, but at least Trent Reznor wrote music and no one from Duran Duran was in the band.

Anyways.

I'm going to TIVO this and watch it. No outside influence from blogs or anything. I'm gonna review it.

WHY?

I'm launching a new site - BOOTH REVIEW - this is gonna kick it off.

Be Prepared.

Love, Anthony

Dear Football...

Today is the beginning of football season. I don't count the Thursday game. I don't like the Giants, and I don't like football on Thursdays. I have a few wishes I want football to grant for me this year.

• Keep the Madden Curse ALIVE!
• Let Hester Break the all time returns for TD's record. Against the Colts.
• Let ESPN's Mr Fantasy Guy not convince me to start someone who will ruin my fantasy team that week.
• Have this be the last 16 game season.
• Don't let my cable go out during any games.
• And last and not least, bless Neckbeard.

Go Bears!

Let's keep the romance alive!

Apparently Christina Aguilera (?) and her man with a beard keep their relationship sexy by having Naked Sundays ALL DAY! That is what some woman with blond hair and a yellow suit told me while I was trying to watch college football,well, naked.

Being naked is pretty fucking rad. (Pardon my use of 80's terms of cool)

I'm naked a lot of the day, when I'm not in school or at work. At least the job all my friends know about. I did online philosophy and history homework today naked.

I talked to Whit on aim naked.

I'm blogging naked right now.

The only problem with all of this is if the cat is around he thinks my balls and/or penis are some sort of toy for him to bat at with his paws.

But you know what? Fuck Him!

Let's keep this blog sexy, lets keep our romance hot and heavy, lets save the whips and chains for when the kids are away at camp.

I'll blog naked.

You read naked.

All the world will be a better place! (I'd explain the benefits to the environment, but you already know that!)

***sponsored by The Secret Naturist Society***

***I'm kidding***

Anthony Sells Out...

This blog is up for sponsorship. Why?

Because I am broke.

Surprise, huh?

No, I am not upside-down on the home I own, well, because, I don't own a home. And my bank didn't go under so I can't get my funds because, I have 4 dollars in the bank.

Yup, broke.

32 dollars in my wallet, 31 available on a credit card, some miscellaneous change in my car, and 20 dollars in 1982 uncirculated pennies I got for my graduation from high school.

I was gonna go to the pawn shop today to pawn my guitar, but I stopped because Stephanie said she would leave me if I do, and she was already pissed off, so I didn't, I believed her.

So I need some cash. Here's how we'll do it.

You can sponsor it for one day for $10.
Or seven days for $50.
Or a month for $180.

In return you get:

• One post a day, two on weekends.
• The option of picking the topic of the post(s).
• The option of picking the style of the post(s).
• A picture of myself (and maybe Stephanie) at your favorite Canoga Park Landmark.

So go ahead and think it over. Tell your friends. Post it on your blog. Add it to your church newsletter. Whatever.

Thanks, I have to go suck dick in the alley now.

Class, classes, classless.

Sunday and Monday I saw Matt, my friend from Chicago. We stayed up ill 3 drinking and singing and recounting those cold months I spent there and the warm months I've spent here. It was another example of how both greatly and positively music has affected my life.

I sat in my first class yesterday since sometime in 2003. Different, very different. I didn't know my way around the campus, there was no one I had a class with before, no one who went to my high school, no one's younger brother or sister. On 3 hours of sleep I did well. I was excited to be there, and I'm excited to go again tomorrow.

I say things at the wrong time. I say them the wrong way. I say them to get things I want. I say them to back out of things. I say them to avoid confrontations. The worst is when it is the best thing to do but you do it at the wrong time.

I'm getting better at rebuilding bridges I've burned. I don't think I need any more practice, but I keep setting them on fire.

football and money

A year ago I was worried about where I was going to live and if I was about to loose my job.

One year later, today, I got a job working for the same company I thought was going to throw me out on my ass. And I live in Canoga Park.

Oh, how things change and how they stay the same.

Almost a whole bottle of Jack Daniels was consumed sitting on a nameless road tonight. We tried to figure out how we had even gotten things together enough in our lives to even meet. Chance encounter after chance encounter with so many people put us on that empty street.

I don't think I've ever been so amazed in my life, how things work out, come together.


You wonder where you change, or how you change. Places, people and things fall in and out of favor. Songs loose meanings, mountains don't scare you, valleys don't hold you, and you don't know why.

It feels good to do this again. The feelings are very different. But I love them.

I think if I ever were to be famous, or someone decided to document me and my life for the sake of prosperity, this last year will be the one. The one that sold the movie deal, the one that gets quoted on the sleeve, the one that people mine for ideas of how to not live their lives and how to create a character with no soul. This last year is the one that so easily folds me into a pretty little package with the ribbon and the shit-paper, my cliff note life.

But godamnit, it would be the best cliff-notes ever purchased.

Or not.

I got a lot of years left of fucking up ahead of me.

30 days (almost, not really, close. sorry.)

Stephanie sits in a restaurant waiting to be interviewed for a job. These have been tryings days lately. There's a new car that refuses to start, sitting on one of the only streets in the San Fernando Valley without streetsweeping or parking restrictions. Pure luck. Every day from before 2 to after 4 in the afternoon we drive around and Stephanie picks up, fills out, and drops off applications. We argue about money, but it is more about the insecurity. Stephanie hasn't been here before. There are some days I feel just as old as her, and other days it feels like it's more than 5 years that separates us. I've been jobless for months before, selling things on e-bay to make rent and pay utilities, riding bicycles with Bill to a bar that wouldn't charge us for our drinks. I've wandered around a city of millions in falling snow, walked a mile and a half in the dark through neighborhoods I've never heard of let alone seen before to interview for jobs that I was completely unqualified for. Returning things you bought for a buck or two so you can get drunk and sleep through the anxiety, I've done that too. It gets exciting, trying to figure out what bill you can hold off paying, which peter you can rob to pay paul. I'm in the middle of a two week interview process to serve at Pepper's again. Almost 3 years of experience at the same place and I still need multiple interviews. If things would have worked out how I wanted them to, I'd already be stockpiling cash under my mattress.

Soon.


Canoga Park is beautiful. There's graffiti, burrito places, vegetarian restaurants, a pool to swim in everyday, and an abundance of nooks and crannies to explore. A nice man named Bill runs the liquor store around the corner (Tally HO!). Our apartment manager is absent minded. Life is good.

Except the cat wants to kill me, and help me cook.

I'll unpack my camera and show you how things are.

in 15 minutes....

I'll be with Whit drinking beer.

I am moving on August 1st to Canoga Park.

I start school on September 2nd.

I got a car that drives on freeways.

I'll be quiting my job soon, but shooosh, they don't know yet.

Then I'll serve again, maybe tend bar, and read more, and write more, and blog more.

August 29th 2009. Thats the wedding day.

See you there.

girls shoes

Yesterday I bought 5 dollar lady shoes to wear to work.

They aren't very comfortable.

And they dyed my socks black.

My kitten likes the way they smell.

I am alive. I still work too much. I'm moving again soon!

Sleeping Houses at Dawn

Tender eyes and hearts close and pound,
silence deep enough to drown,
Proud words and turning ache
swearing just for swearing's sake.
Wrong turns and blinking blinkers
taking place of abandoned winters,
Shorter skirts and warmer hearts
begging for this to start.

Glasses sweat and empty out
fears and hopes and loves and doubt,
No equal level and no familiar gauge
to finally feeling one's age.
Glowing blue and yellow days
now batting, Willie Mays,
Your father's face evolves
to fit all of us involved.

Still some smoke holds on
to the horizon at dawn,
And visitors leave flowers crossed
where the innocence was lost.
We count the paper for it's worth
and pray it stretches over earth,
fills our every need today
or makes us hate to run away.

lunch break party is almost over

i'm smoking cloves, drinking beer, making a mix.

i leave to go back to work in 5 minutes.

i have no insurance, no smog, no registration.

i have 2 bucks in savings, 100 in checking, 40 in my pocket.

i'm out of gas.

i get paid in 10 days.

i work 45-50 hours a week. I don't get paid daily overtime. i get one day off every seven.

i'm in love. i'm in a great band.

i miss my families. i miss some of my friends. i miss my moustache.

i've never been happier. i've never been lonelier. i've never been so low. i've never been so high.

i love music. i love life. i love you.

have a great day.

i'm trying too.

VONS - 1 Booth - 0

A taped up 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon was purchased the other day. Last night while watching a scary movie in the dark I was drinking said beer and eating Oreo cookies. The second beer tasted strange. I thought it was the cookies. It was the beer. It was actually club soda. I was pulling the "beers" out of the box in the box and putting them in my koozie without looking. VONS, you got me!

http://crapulentjukebox.blogspot.com/

So me and Frowning Bill are making a mix blog called The Crapulent Jukebox. His first mix is up, mine is being made as we speak. So add it to your blogroll and readers and things you tell your friends about. In the mean time, my breaks don't work and a burrito purchaser heard me call a co-worker a mother-fucker.

Happy times indeed.

when in mexico...

I fold burritos for a living. I do the other stuff too. I put meat in them (yup), I put dairy in them, and rice, and beans, and sauce (yup) and good times. I also make tacos, tortas, bowls, enchiladas and the dreaded taquito.

Dreaded?

Oh Yes sir, dreaded.

Yesterday a lady asked me if the taquitos were hard or soft.

Wait, the place I work at is like subway, but mexican. Actually, it is more white-boy-mexican, but whatever. So I'm on one side of the sneeze guard and you are on the other, and we move down the line and put the things you want into the thing you ordered.

Actually, I'm a lunch lady. No hair net, but a hat, and gloves.

So this lady asks me if the taquitos are hard or soft.

I say "Umm, they're taquitos."

Pause.

Then I say "Uhh, they're hard (implied DUH)"

She let me know, angrily, that in MEXICAN FOOD taquitos can be hard or soft, and that she was MEXICAN. She also called me an asshole. Or rather implied I was an asshole.

I told her I didn't know that, and that I wasn't mexican, you know, in case there was any confusion or anything.

She might still be mad.

She had a taco instead. You know, the soft version of a taquito.

days bleeding together

Folding/rolling burritos fills my days. I spend less time with my friends. I don't stay at their houses long enough, or try hard enough, or even show up enough. I go to work while roommates sit on the couch and come home and they are still there. I smell like burritos. I feel like a burrito. I don't hate my job. I don't yell at anyone or punch boxes of frozen fries. I'm just there all of the time. I can't find time to write, I can't find time to post blogs, I can't find time to write songs. I can't give all the time stephanie wants from me or all the time I want to give to her. I don't cook. I don't read. I don't take baths. I don't walk anywhere. I don't have any money. I get on the wagon. I fall off the wagon. Everyday is a blur, but not like it used to be, when I would work 5 hours, make 20 hours worth of money, and have a great time doing it. Now I work 11 hours, make 11 (or less) hours worth of money, and don't know where it is or where it goes. I'm on my break from work right now. I'll go back in 20 minutes. More burritos. More tacos. More people not saying please. More headaches. More calculated breathing. More. More. More.

I want less. Thank you.


Tonight: Bill's birthday.

day two

Day one had breakfast in bed and ice cream at night. I forgot to mention. Day two, the way mornings should be. This certain way she smiles when wakes up and realizes where she is is saved in my head. And every morning I make sure it is still there, and today it was. There was school for her and work for me. A stolen lunch break cuddle session. As I swept and replayed the previous days events I came to a conclusion. You decide to love some one. And you decide to love them as long as you want to. It's not chemical, it's a decision. You can continue to fall into patterns or not. You can hold things against people or not. You can let your parents relationship, your grandparents relationship, or your past relationships affect what you do today, but you shouldn't. And now I won't. Day two was good, but sharing it with someone was better.

day one

Waking up at 5:30 in the morning not knowing if that is the last time you wake up next to someone you love is not something I recommend. 2 or so hours spent putting little kisses on a shoulder or cheek, trying to wake her up isn't as bad as it could be, just to long. That first conversation of day should never contain "are you staying?" or "do you still want to get married?" or "do you want to try to help me be better?. Make up sex should not have to occur, but at least it does. Hours at work should not be worn away by stomach pain and unreturned text messages. Knowing someone isn't leaving doesn't mean anything when you can't see them. But coming home to them on the couch with a smile on their face and a ring on their finger means more than you can imagine, unless you've survived a shipwreck, or been where I have, throwing away something that no matter how much you tell yourself you deserve it, you can't make yourself believe that you've earned it. That nights sleep is much less restless. To more nights sleeps like that.

memorial day redux

Every single hateful, angry, spiteful, baiting and horrible thing said by myself ran on repeat through my head. The list not as long as it could be, but still entirely too long. I sat in front of the door and watched as things got folded up, or stuffed into bags or thrown across the room. I said things that in the past may have calmed the situation down, or at least now make me feel better, but never worked. Tears and more tears. Finally it was agreed for one more night we would try. I didn't sleep alone. But I figured out that you don't have to be the person you have always been. And sometimes in the morning everything is ok.

memorial day celebration via youtube

The amount of effort I put into this is seriously lacking. Tomorrow, it will be much better, I promise. Enjoy your day bbqing, I'll be rocking out in Pomona!

That last one is my two friends Roach and Bert and me smashed on Christian Brothers in the front of my house.

going to the sea

going to spend the day and night next to the ocean with some of my best friends and some of the best company in celebration of Bill making it to 25. pictures and stories to follow.

lights of the (sort of) city

I am supposed to be asleep. I have a meeting at work in 5ish hours. I was supposed to be working tonight, but I didn't. Somedays you get sick. Somedays you pretend.

I'm looking out of my new window. There is also another window to my right. Both of them show lights. A shopping center. An intersection. A gas station. A liquor store.

It is pretty hot in my house, even now, at 1:32 in the morning. I have a bed made up in the living room, with a fan blowing on it, with a beautiful woman in it. I should be in it.

Something about all of this makes me feel really old.

The cursor sat there blinking at me. I could do nothing about it. I'm going to try to sleep. I'll get to what all this nonsense is about later.

what? welcome back? - mix

The interweb has been restored at my place of dwelling. I moved my computer into the "band" room, so now I have a new window to look out of. The house is full of new faces. Not really, they just pay rent now ;) Yesterday it was something like 100 degrees, so Bert, Stephanie and myself bought squirt guns and had an old fashioned water fight. Shits tight. In honor of the return of the internets, I made this little mix. Its for Imperceptible, because I've missed her virtual self. (p.s. the Tim Barry/Chuck Ragan/Guy from Lucero show will own everyone!) And Henri, because I like him. It has some different things on it. Enjoy.

Welcome Back - Mix - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=GC6HFFMO
Dear Chicago - Ryan Adams
Paper Planes - M.I.A.
Jackie - Scott Walker
Candle In The Wind (Ben's Song) - Andrew Jackson Jihad
We Are Wild Stallions - The Riot Before
Burn Guelph Burn - The Sainte Catherines
To Hell With Good IntentionsvMclusky
graveyard girl - m83
Drunk Mouth Kitchen Smile - The Lawrence Arms
All Alone In My Big Lonely Apartment - Bomb the Music Industry!
The Lazyboy 500 - The Falcon
$4 Pabst - The Gunshy

on the wings of a sleepy bird

I apologize for not being around. There have shows played, bikes ridden, drinks consumed, and internet shut off. All will be well soon. I hope all are saving their pennies for their flights to California next May;)

About that picture

We went walking from her parents house down to the beach. We drank some beer and some brandy. We accidentally interrupted another couple enjoying the moonlit night. We stood a few hundred feet from the spot on the beach where the picture on the top of this blog was taken.

I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a ring. I didn't have an idea what the reaction would be. But I did it anyway. I got on both knees and asked her to marry me. If one is good, then two should be better, yeah? And she said yes. It was 1:16 in the morning. And only us, the moon, and the oceans knew.

I woke up in the morning, and we were both curious if we were still going to do it. We were. And we are. Phone calls were made to parents and the closest friends. Text messages and emails about the news were sent out. And now you know too.

If you read this, you are invited. We seem to be aiming for May of next year. When the official date comes, you will know. And you will get to see Whit marry people, in person!

So I'm going to start planning a wedding, you should start planning your next visit to California.

April 19th at 1:16am

not the update you were looking for....

Its really nice outside. I want to have a bbq. So I am going to. But I think everyone is at work, or doing something else. Sorry I haven't been around. I like being outside. A keg would be nice, like in this video.

I'm not trying very hard, am I?

computer attacks, I attack back!

My computer can be a bastard. It likes to make me reinstall windows. So I comply. Thats what I've been up to. Exciting crazy ridiculous news in a day or two, ok? In the meantime enjoy this video, I have burritos to fold.


The Get Up Kids - Action & Action

About Last Night...

Dear smile I see almost every morning I wake up,

I was laying in your bed last night, on top of your blankets and sheets. You were sitting next to me and we were sharing a burrito. I picked up your phone to take a picture, that technology has yet to make its way into my pocket. The picture I took of us was blurry, poorly lit, and the composition seemed off. I thought it was just the camera, so I asked to look at your other pictures. And it wasn't the camera, it was me.

There was the Statue of Liberty, and Times Square. There was me in the kitchen. There was that picture you sent me when I sat alone in that bar one night. And that was all that was familiar. There were a couple of a guy I have never seen before or met. But I think I know his name, and who he is, but I didn't want to ask, and you didn't offer any information, not like you did with the other pictures.

Now I know, personally, what you were talking about when we saw their pictures of San Francisco and the pictures of their visit to the mid-west accidentally showed up. When all you can think about is spending time with someone, missing them, wanted them to be around, and you see them enjoying their life without you, well, that is a feeling I don't care to revisit.

But you can't go back, you can't take away those smiles, those laughs, those tears or those kisses. And there is no reason to get rid of those mementos. If you do, you might forget why you don't visit those place anymore, it happened to me.

Then there were pictures of your friends. And of car rides. And babies. And pets. And you and your ex, the one I know. And that was a year ago. Or more. And you looked so happy.

I was hurt. Not for all of these pictures, but for the ones that weren't there. Of us. I thought that you didn't want pictures of us together in your phone, mingling with your past lives. And I thought that you might not take as many pictures as you used to. But I didn't say anything.

We shared a couch later, and some drinks. I remembered the flowers from mere hours before. Your surprise, and your smile.

And I wasn't hurt anymore. Who cares what pictures of who are where? Who cares if your interest in cellular photography has passed you by? At the end of the day, we share a bed, and in the morning, you wake up in my arms, smiling. And all of those hours between mean just as much, if not more. So I'm sorry for the brief cold sentences yesterday. Patterns are easy to repeat, ruts are hard to get out of, but I'm trying.

I hope you find this.

Sincerely,
Me.

the difference is in the distance

I am volatile. My highs are very high. My lows are even lower. My times in the middle are few and far between, and they are less everyday. I love so hard I want to wrap myself up with the ones I love and never see anything of them again. I hate so serious I have flashes of violent acts being committed on strangers and the closest of friends. I scream until my veins bulge and my throat bleeds. I drink to just before total blindness. And so on and so forth.

Since I have become aware of these facts, two people have been involved in my life to calm me down. The first made me boring; they stole my passion. The second, Bill, tells me things I don't want to hear. They are some of the nicest things ever said to me. At least by someone with their clothes on. ;) And he does this with out making me boring.

So I wanted to say thanks to him, he means more to me than he probably knows.

tears on my headrest

I drove my good friend Gabe to work this morning. I was hungover. The sun was out, the air was still, it was beautiful. I listened to a band I've heard 1800 times again, and it felt new. I cried. When I got home I crawled back into bed. The day has been longer than I could have ever imagined.

nothing feels as old

As I did last night. I sat on my bedroom floor drinking wine, eating fake buffalo wings and then drinking beer. When you meet someone who hasn't heard all of your stories, who wasn't there for all the heartbreak and happiness, who doesn't have all of the same friends, and spent their formative years in different parks/garages/clubs/driveways/backseats you get to learn more about yourself. Recounting losing your virginity is different when it is almost 10 years removed. Replaying soundtracks to your evenings leaves you with songs that don't carry the weight they used to. Trying to explain inside jokes, or why you can't get high, or name sections of deserts that are now empty shopping centers, or which girl it was that you last referred to as a girl, before you started dealing with women, really add the pages to the calender that had snuck on unnoticed up to this point. But being so far removed from these things and realizing that you don't have to defend those decisions anymore, that makes the transitions easy to take. It was a great night on my bedroom floor, like one I hadn't spent in almost a decade.

spraypaint

I painted this last night. I was supposed to be folding burritos, but it was slow, so they sent me home. Definitely ok with that.

Bill, myself, and some other people are going to make suicide mixes. The idea is that these are the songs you would listen to before you killed yourself, they would be your suicide note.

I'm going get started on that and wait for a plane from New York to show up. Consider me excited on all fronts.

the times we do, the times we don't

I got a digital camera for Christmas in 2005. I have taken a lot of pictures on it. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 4000. That is at least what I have saved. There are pictures from 3 going away parties, a last night in town, 6 or 7 different states, costume parties, birthdays, nights at bars, beaches, mountains, airports, trains, buses, friends, girlfriends, ex-friends, people I never see anymore, kitchens, living rooms, bedrooms, garages, yards, patios, apartments, houses, a pool, and my own blood.

I had a box, probably 14x20, full of pictures taken with traditional cameras. 35mm, 110 mm, disposable, polaroid. Sometime before I got the digital camera I threw all of those pictures away. I don't miss them, those times didn't seem familiar. I didn't long for them, I am happy they are gone. In terms of the pictures I own, I didn't exist before 2005.

It is a strange feeling, feeling like you didn't exist, when you know you did.

That might be why I take a lot of pictures now. I often forget to take pictures when something momentous is happening. The everyday stuff, I'm there for. And those pictures turn out better anyways.

A harmonica in my lungs

There is a song playing right now, that is barely longer than 2 minutes and quiet enough to play in the most somber of places. It has a harmonica in it. And that harmonica echoes out of my lungs and heart and other organs.

Today (technically yesterday, I haven't gone to bed yet, so it is the same day) I walked around the desert next to my house. The same desert from these posts. I went wood gathering. I didn't have any exact ideas for the type of wood I wanted, I just knew I needed enough to make a flower. I have the day off from burrito manufacturing, so I figured I could do something nice for someone, make some art, and start regaining some of those hands on skills we seem to be using. (I didn't notice we were loosing are ability to work with our hands, but Bill brought it up, and he is a smart guy, and he is right. He is going to learn how to weld, count me excited.) After my gathering I went to the hardware store for nails and spray paint. Then I took pizza to Whit. Awww, lunch date. After borrowing a saw from him I went to work. Here are the before, in process and after. Crystal might be mad at me for spray painting the grass. She might not.