the year turns and the world yearns 

frankly, i am amazed that i have been able to stick with this blog for as long as i have. two years ago, when i first registered on blogger and started blabbering all over the web, i didn’t really know or think that i would have kept up with it for any extended length of time. at the moment it had just seemed like something cool to do, since a bunch of my pals already had blogs in some form online, and i had experimented with online journaling a few years prior.

so, yeah. today marks the two year anniversary of the very first time i posted on here.

one year ago, i was typing out a post in monica’s apartment, looking after her cat macy while she was off at work. craig and i didn’t have any film production going on that day, and after monica had left for coronado that morning, i fell back asleep and rested as much as one can when a psychotic cat is roaming about, knocking shit over in a feeble attempt to draw attention to herself. around noon, i slithered out of bed, made my way over to the computer, and relished in the fact that i had recently gotten sex as i began contemplating that my stay in albuquerque would be coming to an end relatively soon (a bit later than originally planned, but nonetheless very close on the horizon).

two years ago, i scribbled a post on blogger just before heading to work. i was scheduled for the night shift in the a/v office at the hotel, and at this point in time i was deep into hating my job. the cool boss had been fired (in a very *uncool* way) and replaced with this lanky creep who looked kinda like a dopey bird from an old warner brothers cartoon. it was a slow night at work, just myself in the office, so i spent the better part of the evening making another blog post and farting around the property listening to various tunes on my iPod.

a lot of shit has managed to happen in the last twenty four months. hell, in the last twelve, even. since getting back from albuquerque, i managed to completely ruin my credit rating and sit in debt for five months, watched as the church i used to belong to self-destructed and began wasting away, taken up a new job serving coffee to yuppies and hot looking jailbait, realized i was in love with a woman, declared this love to said woman, been rejected over such love for said woman, gotten over said woman, had two computers die on me at round about the same time, write a screenplay that is in bad need of major editing, and through it all, continue to post online with more or less the same amount of zany insight i typically have when it comes to the bizarre cloud that is reality.

there has actually been some amount of good over the span of the last year, albeit sparse and infrequent. i guess the world is just having an off year for now. murphy would be most proud of how things are going.

mostly, this site has brought me a lot of good since i started it seven hundred thirty days ago. i have met tons of good people through this blog; friends like becca, spring, k-bear, hajra/naranca, CheR, cogent, jen, wyntir, alispain, phil, katriana, kelly, sean, mandy, lois, and many many others. some of them are no longer posting or even online, a lot of them continue to post regularly. all of them have made a significant difference, and their friendships have been greatly valued.

usually, i am quite known for starting grandiose projects, dedicating extreme devotional concentration to them for a short period of time, and then walk away as my interest in the completion greatly wanes to the point where i have no further ambition to see my work through. for some reason, this blog has been different. importantly, it is quite possibly the first major piece of work that i have started and remained more or less faithfully committed to. just about every day, i check in to see who has commented and what they had to say, as i absolutely live for comments as a means of validating what i do. while that may be the wrong reason, nonetheless it continues to draw me back and force my brain to come up with something to proclaim to the world via this digital medium.

hell, even in my darkest moments where i feel there is absolutely no hope left in the universe (see the post entitled ragged lines of ragged gray), the one thing that does keep me going, corny though it may seem, has been this blog. it has been my refuge and sounding board for when i needed to get something off my chest, or felt that the world would somehow benefit from digesting my mental diarrhea.

my condolences if the above sounded cheesy in any way.

for now, my plan is to pretty much sally forth and carry on with this thing. perhaps someday in the future, i may decide that this blog no longer benefits me or anybody else in any way, and will abandon it like so many of the other projects i started that now waste away in unrealized potential.

but let’s all hope that is a long time from now. ;-)

  • 8.27.2005


    fucking bloody hell.

    i'm telling you, this is the year of SUCK.

    my good pal becca, who desperately wanted another child finally got her wish with a daughter that she delivered yesterday, but it seems there are some complications and the baby is now in the ICU with blood clots on her brain or something.... becca hasn't posted a whole lot about it, but says the situation is not good.

    i ask you strongly to go to her site, www.dasbecca.com and leave her some comment love.

    at the very least, please say some prayers for her.

  • 8.26.2005

    ragged lines of ragged gray 

    everybody keeps telling me lately to cheer up. just look at the bright side of things.

    to them, i pose this question: *what* bright side of things exactly am i supposed to be observing?

    if you tell me “at least you’re still alive,” i would have to call your comments into question. while it is true that i still consume oxygen and nutrients, i’ve been walking around the last several months despising all that is existence. i keep begging God to take my life because he damn well sure knows i don’t have the balls to go ahead and end it myself. so far, he hasn’t granted me any such merciful reprieve.

    at least i’m still alive? hell, the other day, i began to realize something. in a way, i already am dead. i’m beginning to think my soul died a long time ago, got trapped, and is silently rotting away inside the slagheap of bio matter that is my body. being alive is something to celebrate? in what way do you even begin to suggest? how is this something to be thankful for? really… what the FUCK are you talking ABOUT???

    there is nothing that brings me hardly any joy anymore. my year started off with my computers deciding to commit hari kari on me. nothing i could do about that but sit and watch helplessly as one exploded right in front of me, and the other began a losing battle with some form of digital cancer that tentatively threatens to take her from me any day now.

    i would naturally be quick to replace these dearest companions of mine, but i don’t even have any money to facilitate this with. nothing. nadda. instead i just wait as each machine silently is claimed by the cyber grim reaper and lament the fact that tiny snippets of pleasure are sucked ruthlessly from my life. how is this *my* fault? did i directly (or even indirectly) cause the damn power spike that fucked up my babies? i bloody don’t see how. while i will admit that there are some things that only i have control over, this dilemma fails to find a place on that list.

    it used to be that i could rely on going out for a drive in my car to bring me at least some satisfaction, but with gas prices being the way they are, i practically have to take out a mother fucking loan to afford enough fuel to make it just to work and back. never mind joy rides. there is no such thing anymore. i have to strictly regiment what i do with my vehicle in order to maintain what little savings i actually still happen to have, thanks in no part to the greedy sons of bitches oil executives that sit laughing atop their piles of money as they continue to brutally fuck the citizens of this country through any tender hole that is left. it doesn’t help matters any that my glove compartment is now stuck shut, since the fucking latch broke off the damn thing earlier today when i tried to open it to check for something. i guess in the end, i really didn’t need the extra amount of money it’s going to take to resolve *that* issue.

    this only leaves playing drums, and i have been so lacking on inspiration to sit down and play that i’m wondering why i even bother keeping my kit setup at all anymore. craig has suggested i try looking online to find bands that are seeking drummers, but i’ve been in far too many bands to ever feel there is any hope of doing anything significant with them. eventually all of them fold up or decide their hearts really aren’t geared towards pursuing some fanciful dream of fame and stardom. there is no point in trying to place stock in the false hope that one day something may change. by now i’ve been too conditioned by past experiences to ever really expect situations to end up not disappointing me on some level.

    so what is left? nothing. there is nothing that brings me joy in life. i go to bed at night hoping i die in my sleep, and in the morning when i wake, i curse God for not ending my miserable existence during the night. if there is some point to all this shit, fucking get it over with already.

    if not, then let me die so i can get on with spending the rest of eternity festering away in hell where i belong.

    other people may be able to find shit to be happy about in life, but not me. don’t think i haven’t looked, either. if i wasn’t so hyper-critical of myself and my pursuits, i might actually find pride in any of the shit i waste my time away with. the harsh fact is, anything that i do is in some way hopelessly flawed, and no matter what i do, i will consistently fail to achieve the perfection in life that i so desperately seek. instead i see only the wastefulness and futility of my efforts and reflect on the potential that i arrogantly discarded. even when I do show just the tiniest smidgen of pride in anything I have accomplished, something *always* happens to humble me beyond a point of crushing shame where I feel like the only escape I have from the embarrassment of being taken down so many notches is to wish that I would just magically cease existing altogether.

    despite it being totally illogical and foolish, i tend to draw strength from other people. ultimately, the only meaning my life can possibly have is the impact that i leave on others, and lately all i have been able to do is lament how horrible i feel. i haven’t even been able to take a few moments and shift my selfish focus onto the needs or concerns of others. all i do anymore is complain, and yet any attempt i make to find an out is easily thwarted. my heart puts so much effort into fostering relationships with other people, in the hopes of filling that acceptance and companionship I so desperately crave, and yet consistently I end up being disappointed at how often my affection goes unreturned or under appreciated. there is very little physical contact in my life anymore, and what little I do get seems to disappear faster than it materialized.

    which brings me to another point. it seems that not only am i meeting all the women who are married, or otherwise unavailable for some reason or other (be they because of physical distance or mental crisis), but i am also meeting all the women who are desperately horny yet sexually unfulfilled. this has to be some goddamn joke. sure. just introduce me to all the women who have a problem that i could more than easily help them solve, were there no mitigating circumstances that prevented such assistance on my part. so it’s not really so much that i’m not meeting anybody. oh sure, i meet tons of women every day. are any of them a possible option for me?


    you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. when does the torture end already?!

    this is essentially the reality that i know. everybody else seems to be able to find some kind of silver lining amongst the mess that is their own pitiful fucked up lives, but i seem to have lost my sight for that kinda stuff a long time ago. even on the days that go well and i manage to smile once or twice, deep down a part of me cries out in resentment because i know all too well that the suckage will soon commence and what little happiness there is will be all but a pleasant memory.

    i really wish that i had better, happier stuff to post on here.

    but i don’t.

  • 8.23.2005

    a dizzying lifetime reeling by on celluloid 

    lately my thoughts have begun dwelling on just what fate might potentially mean. while i don’t doubt that there is some end purpose to which all of reality serves, i’m beginning to think that there exists the strong possibility that the events that eventually lead to destiny aren’t quite as important as the actual destination itself. this would be a unique reversal of the popular mindset that the journey is sometimes the better part of the deal, but nonetheless i have my reasons.

    one of the most dreadful of fears that i cower from on a nearly daily basis is the fact that i very well could be fucking up my own fate. that life/God/the universe/whatever you hold stock in that makes the world go round keeps sending me different nuggets of opportunity that i surreptitiously blow with the greatest of ease. some of them i likely don’t even realize, and so obscure could they be that i am just far too close-minded to ever recognize them for what they are. this could prove to be greatly aggravating, as it means that i naively shoot myself in the foot without ever realizing i was pulling the trigger, or that i even had a weapon in my hand to begin with.

    there are several ways to look at it. the clearest explanation i can come up with is how water flows down a hill made of dirt. both the origin of the water and the destination are irrefutably defined: the top of the hill is where the water starts, and the bottom is where the water will end up (or the lowest point of the hill, and this all takes into account that you assume gravity is naturally included in the equation).

    however, the path that the water takes has yet to be established until it actually begins traveling downward towards its final resting point. any number of obstacles can be placed in the path, and yet the water (if there is enough force behind it) will continue downward even though it has been slightly detoured. eventually, it reaches the end of the journey. that it will travel from ‘point a’ to ‘point b’ is basically a given. the answer as to what route it takes however can not be discovered until it has already happened.

    i’m beginning to think that life is very similar to this. it certainly would help to explain a lot. there are limitless possibilities for one person during their own lifetime, but the overall destination basically remains the same. obviously, the ultimate destination is the conclusion of our mortal existence, but if there is some higher purpose for the motions that we go through, it would help to solve the dilemma of how both free will and pre-determination can peacefully co-exist at the same time.

    this also helps me to figure out several occurrences in my past. for quite some time, i instinctively believed that erin and i were supposed to be together, even though i never actually did anything to facilitate this end result. i’m wondering if at some point, the universe was aligned so that she and i would actually end up together… however since i failed to actively participate, this is where i invite the colloquialism “that ship has sailed.” another way of saying it is “when god shuts a door, he opens a window.” basically, since i didn’t take the necessary steps to allow this course of events to proceed, the divine plan thus reorganized itself to compensate for the deviation. henceforth, a new path is forged and different opportunities eventually surface – even though the eventual destination and purpose for my life remain by-and-large unchanged.

    in a way, taking this kind of approach towards life, fate and destiny seems like the only reasonable course, and to assume that there is only one set of events by which we absolutely must stringently follow is a concept that quickly renders itself as foolish.

    after all, a year ago i met monica and over time began to feel that she and i were meant to be together. in some other universe, i wholeheartedly believe that the ideal combination of circumstances did manage to coalesce and that she and i exist in a glorious state of united bliss in some alternate reality. the proper elements failed to materialize in this reality however, and as a result, she and i move onwards with our lives, no matter how painfully difficult this was for me to contemplate these last several months.

    i suppose that ultimately, i take comfort in the fact that all of this will mean absolutely squat two hundred years from now, when my earthly remains are silently decaying beneath the soil of a new tomorrow.

  • 8.20.2005

    steely-eyed outside to hide the enemy within 

    i’m beginning to suspect that the postal service has been thoroughly inspecting my mail, or at least keeping taps on what i have received lately. the only reason i say this is that anything i send to acquaintances takes damn near forever and a week to get anywhere, and vice versa; anything that is sent to me seems to encounter mysteriously unexplained delays.

    none of my mail ever appears to have been opened, so i would say that they are merely taking a record of whatever is sent to me. but it’s been shit like how playboy used to arrive way earlier towards the beginning of the month, and at this point, i’m lucky if i even get my copy before the next month’s issue hits the newsstands. it’s not just playboy, either. craig sent me a copy of the rough cut for land of entrapment on dvd a couple months ago – took a full week and half to get here. twelve days to travel three hundred miles within the same state.

    that requires some serious declarations of shenanigans.

    several things that i have shipped to associates have actually never arrived, or showed up well beyond the reasonable amount of time they should have. thankfully nothing of what was ever lost has been irreplaceably valuable, but eventually this has created a paranoia and forced me to seek insurance on articles that i send through the mail should they ever strangely evaporate without any explanation, regardless of how many postmasters i confront regarding this nonsense. perhaps this is some ploy on the part of the postal service to force their customers to spend the extra amount on buying what seems to be worthlessly crappy insurance for articles that pass through their system, since the "coverage" has yet to have compensated for any of the inconveniences i have experienced lately.

    i’m not even entirely sure why *my* parcels in particular would come under suspect to begin with. so far as i know, i haven’t engaged in any suspicious activities, nor have i ever received or sent anything of questionably dubious origin or content in the mail. quite franky, i’m amazed that they don’t scrutinize my brother’s mail, seeing as how he’s not only a member of the nra (i am lazy and simply haven’t sent in any registration just yet since i don’t actually own any firearms at the moment), but that he also receives a wide assortment of military surplus catalogues, the kind of which would make militia nut jobs in the deep south soil their shorts.

    although really, with all of the other annoying hassles that i encounter on a daily basis, this hardly surprises me at all. it takes quite a lot to actually stun me, as i have pretty much come to accept that somehow even normal physics are completely against me. i am positive you would be amazed at my uncanny ability to place a perfectly balanced object on a completely level surface, only to watch it fall over as soon as i remove my hands from it. there are some things that seem to only happen specifically when i am involved, and i still don’t understand just why they happen the way they do; most of them defy any and all reasonable and established laws of physics. perhaps i just have some kind of fucked up aura that is capable of manipulating and distorting the very fabric of existence.

    or maybe God’s just fucking with me again. he seems to enjoy that immensely.

    and no, i’m not using that as just a cheap excuse. hopefully in time, you’ll fully understand what i’m talking about.

    or maybe not. either way, i guess it’s all good.

    but if you’re going to send something to me, fedex it instead.

  • 8.18.2005

    images conflicting into data overload 

    every so often i sometimes get the feeling that i have woken up in an alternate reality, or ‘parallel universe,’ for you trekkies out there. the tip-off is never usually something ultimately major, but there are little hints that perhaps i am naively slipping through various dimensions of existence ala sliders, minus the nifty cgi wormhole effect.

    the other night at work, somebody had taken out all of the giant wheeled trash cans (we’re talking the kind that you set out on the street for the sanitation department to empty out in the morning) before we locked up the store and began finishing up the closing tasks. now, you need to understand a little back story into the catch-22 that is the final moments of closing at our store. once we are closed for business (i.e., we kick out any loitering patrons and lock the exterior doors), we finish up any chores that couldn’t be attended to while customers still occupied our premises. these entail things like sweeping and mopping the floors, disassembling the espresso machines and cleaning them, and finishing all the remaining dishes and other areas of detail that require attention (bathrooms, counters, etc).

    the rub comes from the fact that we can’t take any trash cans out of the store once the doors are locked before we begin the last hour of work. after we shut our doors and set about attempting to finish up early, the only other time they can be opened is after the alarm has been set, and we shuffle off to our homes for some restful slumber. however, we are not allowed to do work related tasks after we have clocked out (but before we can open the doors and take the trash cans out). it’s a really minor catch-22 but nevertheless it is what it is, however trivial it may be.

    even though this diatribe is bordering on aimless rambling, there is in fact a point to this tale, i assure you. or maybe not. i’m not really all that sure myself.

    at any rate, the compromise is thus: we leave at least one trash can in the store to cover any remaining bags of rubbish we have (and usually there are a great many) so that we aren’t all stuck dragging garbage bags out onto the street corner after we have all washed up after finishing our tasks.

    or, at least we *used* to in some other dimension that i vaguely recall. the other night, as i frantically looked for a container to hold the accumulating mountain of refuse that sat near the front door, i was informed that we are supposed to leave all four trash cans outside before we lock the doors, and get this…. *always have* left all four trash cans outside before locking the doors.

    now, i distinctly can recall many times over the past six months having to find a spare pair of disposable gloves each night i worked closing to wheel the last trash can outside to the curb as the security system was arming and we were all rushing to get out of the store. yet, according to my co-workers, we have never left a single trash can in the store after the doors were locked.

    i’m guessing this whole thing won’t make a whole lot of sense. to be perfectly honest, it’s been confusing and annoying the hell out of me, because i hate to be a dick and tell people that they are blatantly wrong, but there have been other instances in my life where everybody in the world swore on their mother’s graves that what i strongly remember is a complete fabrication. either my imagination is completely overactive and various portions of my life have been nothing more than some fanciful dream that i made up, or God is having the time of eternity totally fucking with me.

    quite frankly, i wouldn’t put it past him.

  • 8.16.2005

    needles at your nerve ends crawl like spiders on your skin 

    the well has been rather dry lately. my mind keeps reaching down, and coming up with absolutely nothing. well, not quite nothing. there is this rather sticky gray goo that i’m pretty sure has some important function, were it not dripping from the network of synapses in my brain. but that’s a whole other story altogether. in short, it’s rather a depressing situation.

    every now and then, i get all tapped out and experience a total lack of ideas. these periods tend to last anywhere from a few days, to several years. my hope is that this current spell reaches a conclusion soon. it is rather frustrating that on top of all the other crap that annoys the living piss out of me currently that i have no possible inspiration to draw from in order to create with.

    i’ve only been able to remember about half of my dreams lately. the rest of them get lost within seconds of my waking up. this bugs me to no end, since the only time that something actually happens lately in my life is when i am asleep. luckily i was able to cling to the bitter-sweet memory of this gal i met and made out with in my dreams last night…. jazelle. pretty name… i’m going to have to remember that if i ever have a daughter.

    sunday afternoon, as i stretched out across the backseat of the dark knight on the way home from a friend’s housewarming party, i drifted off into a hazy stupor. the kind of sleep where you’re not really asleep, but definitely not amongst the world of the waking. in this zone exists a state of psychological purgatory. most of the dreams or visions i have in this odd mental dimension are horribly fractured and discombobulated. hundreds of concepts merge and blend to form this almost nightmarishly frightening vista of images.

    the best comparison i can fathom is if you were to flip endlessly through thousands of television channels, movies and radio stations all at once and then amplify this distortion a billion fold. after a few moments of this barrage, my mind usually provides an escape route by either waking me up, or forcing me into a deeper realm of sleep in order to avoid the punishment.

    that my mind attempts to shield itself from this onslaught actually bothers me to a degree, because it is during these scattered moments that i feel i am brought a few steps closer to reaching some clarity into the meaning of it all. for a moment, it is as if the chaotic web of knowledge that binds all of reality together unfolds and provides me with a glimpse at part of the architecture.

    but then it’s all completely gone as i fail to resist the temptations of rest, leaving me to awaken several hours later with a puddle of drool floating on my pillow and a seriously unwelcome case of morning wood.

  • 8.11.2005

    overwhelmed by everything but wanting more so much 

    as one could fathomably expect from a degenerate such as myself, there are certain moments that crop up in my life that, regardless of eventual outcome of other mitigating circumstances surrounding such events, simply must be celebrated with the aplomb you might reserve for the finest of royalty.

    exactly one year ago today (not quite to the hour, mind you), the lovely siren monica and i erotically slaughtered the hopelessly innocent boy known as adam the loser virgin, and in turn gave welcome birth to an empowered new man... adam the seldom-sexually active... loser.


  • 8.09.2005

    an ill wind comes arising across the cities of the plain 

    maybe it is just me, and maybe i am completely stupid, but i seem to have noticed a major marketing blunder at work here. recently, there have been a string of successful superhero films that have naturally produced a wealth of action figures and other collectible accessories. what the companies producing these toys have failed to realize is that they have completely missed out on what would certainly be a sure fire strategy to guarantee an absolute bloody fortune.

    i’m talking about… the women. despite the first two spider-man films proving to be phenomenal box office powerhouses, the only action figures available are of a costumed tobey maguire and his arch nemesis’; doc ock and the green goblin. there are simply *no* kirsten dunst/mary jane watson action figures to be had. the same goes with ‘batman begins’… tons of action figures of bruce wayne as the dark knight, alfred, gordon, and the villains – none of katie holmes as rachel dawes.

    truly i ask you… what the fuck? do these toy companies even realize the kind of selling power they are so willfully neglecting?? were they to produce action figures of these insatiably fuckable young women, they would not only sell completely out of these figures in record time, they would understandably have tremendous backorders that would stretch on for months worse then when sony fucked up on playstation 2 stock earlier this year.

    am i the *only* one who sees this? i refuse to believe i am alone in this observation.

    as i am want to do (and frequently so), i have been going over the past year in my mind, and more specifically, the two months that i spent in albuquerque last summer. there are a lot of important one year anniversaries that are rapidly approaching, and i’m probably going to start posting some entries in the near future regarding memories of the days craig and i spent in the crazy pursuit of what might ultimately be a pipe dream – becoming successful filmmakers. while we certainly did spend a lot of time on our “sets” working on trying to shoot ninety minutes worth of useable screen material despite all of the numerous obstacles that more than joyously erected themselves in our path, a great deal more of my memories that stand out are of the times away from the camera.

    like when craig, drew and i went to go see ‘stink of flesh’ at the guild (the same theater we hope to premier our film at before this year’s end). or hanging out at drew’s gas station. or the frenzied days of running all about town while trying to secure the various items we needed.

    or most especially the fresh squeezed orange juice at the frontier… nothing less than pure heaven.

    probably the one thing i really miss the most at the moment is the feeling of late afternoon in albuquerque. when the heat wave finally breaks, and a huge bank of hand painted clouds come billowing over the sandia mountains. the way the wind would slightly pick up, and the sunlight began fading long before sunset was due as the sky was slowly blanketed by an ominous darkness. that musky smell of dirt and water – right before the storm would hit. how off on the horizon, maybe as it was just far enough in the distance to barely perceive, the flicker of lightning and the thunder that would roll endlessly across the desert as a warning of what was to come.

    and then the show would begin.

  • 8.05.2005

    a wound that will not heal; a heart that cannot feel 

    i’m fairly positive it’s never a good thing when you wish you were dead before you have even woken up.

    one week ago. just a mere seven days, and i was having the time of my life. it seems that whenever i have fun, or am even just slightly happy, it increasingly takes less and less time for the euphoria to come crashing down around me in utter ruin and reduce me to a quivering, miserable mess – regardless of how valiantly i attempt to cling to the vibe.

    why can’t i be normal? why can’t i just let all the insignificantly little, simple bullshit things that bother me pass me by, and continue on my merry way unphased? i highly doubt that after i finally get health insurance and begin medication that the drugs will magically resolve all my deepest problems; i.e. lack of friends to physically hang out with, a woman to love and be loved by, or the ambition to actually do something with my life instead of wallowing away in the squalor of my own self pity.

    every now and then i return to the screenplay i penned a couple months ago, and a notch is added to the list of items that hopelessly depress me. it is becoming progressively clearer to me that my talents don’t lie in the same bed with screenwriting. or even storytelling, for that matter. anytime i begin to relate a tale to people nearby, my audience will all quickly lose interest and discover other tasks to busy themselves with. i’ve completely lost whatever skill i used to have in being able to foster and retain people’s attentions. so, if you never get as far as the end of this paragraph, believe me… i won’t hold you at fault.

    lately i’m not even sure if filmmaking is the path i should take anymore. considering that my attempts thus far have for the most part wanked supreme, i’m guessing that i should begin seeking other avenues with which to occupy my time. there’s always writing, but i don’t honestly believe that i have enough skill with words to make something meaningful out of it. at best, i could end up as a copy-writer for the shlock that plagues the backs of video cases or milk cartons, but i doubt i would find any fulfillment in such a resignation.

    this leaves… what? yet another damned question to which there is no answer, or at least one with any reasonable degree of clarity. i struggle to maintain a definition of what i am supposed to do with this thing called life. there are individuals who from practically birth had an unquenchable drive for their ultimate life’s ambition, whereas i seemingly wander directionless and stupid. while it is true that there are a number of things i am *good* at, there isn’t a single thing that i excel at with true greatness. perhaps if i had some undeniable disposition for one solitary aptitude, my quest would be made infinitely easier, but as it stands i will have to really focus and unwillingly force the decision of which of my supposed strengths has more value than the rest (even if i have to pretend) and allow the others to fall by the wayside.

    i just don’t know. i’m tired of asking all the questions.

    it’s time for some answers.

    and there simply are none to be had it seems.

  • 8.02.2005

    are you under the illusion the path is winding your way? 

    up until a week ago, this has been the year of SUCK. in fact, who knows? after last week, this may very will still continue being the year of SUCK, but for four days at least, i had a partial week of AWESOME.

    as some of you may have noticed, i customarily dropped off the face of the earth for a few days back there. instead of wasting time away at home like i normally do however, or trudging through work while constantly being reminded of a woman i can never have, i responded to the desperate plea of a friend of mine and helped out his band by playing drums up in the sierra’s at a jr high youth camp from last wednesday until saturday.

    ever since my church went nuclear melt-down style, i haven’t really had any chance to play music with any bands. sure, my kit is setup in the living room and i can pretty much practice there whenever i please since dad says it is preferable to listening to me pound on my desk in rhythm to music, but much like sex, music is best shared with other people and not done solo. over the past six months, i have totally forgotten how therapeutic it is to just sit down with other musicians, join in harmony with the other instruments, and become carried away with the magic that is music.

    in fact, had i known beforehand that playing with a band for a couple days in a row would have helped me get over monica, i would have signed up for that action a long time ago.

    originally a buddy of mine needed a drummer to fill in for their normal drummer who is currently enrolled in summer school courses at their local community college, and my work scheduled almost lended itself towards helping him out, but i couldn’t ask for the entire week off. i already had thursday and friday off, and a late shift start on saturday night, but was scheduled to work from mon-wed. (sorry to trudge over mundane details such as this, but it’s part of how things all worked out). through a fair amount of prayer and skillful negotiation, i managed to trade my wednesday night shift with a new partner at work, so this freed me up to head off for the majority of the week to go play with the band.

    tuesday night was a closing shift at work, which meant that i was there until midnight (slightly after, actually – we got out a few minutes late). in much my typical fashion, i didn’t even pack beforehand – i left that until the next morning just before i headed out the door and hit the road. i’m very much a last minute kinda guy.

    since craig had some issues to work out online that night, i ended up chatting with him until about four in the morning. caught about four hours of sleep, then woke to pack, eat a light breakfast, load up my drums into the camry, and head off down the freeway for a three hour drive to the camp. the iPod kept me company with the windows down, an odwalla c-monster in hand (i have become an addict) and a carefree spirit as i managed to get lost four or five different times thanks to the wisdom that is the california highway naming system (there are about five different roads that are all labeled 120 at some point, and three named 108).

    after several cell phone calls to dad to make sure i wasn’t heading to reno or some other unintended destination, i finally found the camp and we all unloaded my stuff. thankfully that day was a “sleep in late day” at camp, so i managed to get there just in time for lunch. afterwards we headed up to the auditorium we were playing in, and began rehearsing.

    the next few days are all a happy blur. i became good friends with the members of the band, met tons and tons of extraordinary kids, and got the chance to try out the new double-kick pedal i bought for my drumkit earlier that week. wednesday night we played a concert (during which we completely blew the circuit breakers and ended up playing a couple acoustic songs), and throughout the week there was just tons of other wickedly cool stuff.

    sorry, i can’t really seem to do it all justice. anytime i attempt to write about the good times i have in life, they end up coming off rather dry sounding and underwritten. it’s only the negative stuff in life that i seem to be rather stellar at capturing with words… probably because i have had so much practice with it. there are so few good moments in my life that i just generally don’t know how to express them all. it’s not in my style, i suppose.

    all i can do is recount the memories – waking up on thursday morning to the sound of our bass player strumming on an acoustic guitar downstairs in our cabin, occasionally howling like a wolf every couple minutes… the electric guitarist getting the runs while he was going commando style… the twin girls that would dare each other to eat gross things…. the two girls that were die-hard waynes world fans and who along with me quoted nearly the entire film over several days… the gigantic cockroach on our cabin porch that made all of us squeal in terror as we hurriedly searched for implements to kill it with… carpet ball with a nice woman that politely listened as i ranted on about how my church had been sucked down a destructive hole… a never-ending game of uno… getting thoroughly drenched by several kids when they thought it would be funny to start water/ice cube fights… having my arms be tagged and written all over by hyper kids… playing a snare at campfire under the stars with our groupies sitting all around… aromatically realizing that leach fields are horrible, filthy, disgusting awful ideas… contemplating that the light up in the sky is billions of years older than myself…

    i could go on and on and on, but really… i dunno. suffice it to say, it was a great time.

    and i need way many more of those.

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