Reattaining the blog...

I'm kinda drunk and frustrated with women and the public at large.

God, I hope my writing gets better...

Or maybe that's it. Maybe I need to keep it that simple. Maybe I need a Twitter account, at least to give the condensed versions of my often verbose blog posts.

Suck it.

Recently

You know how at the end of the day, when someone asks what you did today, you can think of a million things, but thinking of what you did for the past decade usually draws a blank? Well, I just thought about the past couple of weeks and realized that I've been through everything, the entire rollercoaster that life is, save for any major accomplishments, like getting a new car or further distancing myself from my virginity.

Yep, been through a lot lately.

Too much to even know where to start, so I'll pass on the details. Sorry.

The point, I suppose, is that I've been living, which masks the scent of death creeping up. Sometimes, particular alternatives make me miss the olfactory stimulation of impending doom.

I often hate writing out what the point is. Really, I think the stuff I write gets across better if I trust you to evaluate it yourself, for better or worse. Worse than that is being asked to explain myself. Here's my pre-fabricated response to that request- Fuck you.

Sometimes I get lonely, and only want to be acknowledged. After I vent all these tiny random thoughts, then maybe I can discuss something with a point.

The swimming mouse churns the cream to butter. Then, being too stupid to climb out, he lets the Beaumont sun melt the butter. Over and over again.

Fun Factor, Leaking Like the Deepwater Horizon

There's a window that opens for a split second every twenty blue moons, and I just flew into it, right after it shut, like a sparrow, at a breakneck speed.

I think I hate strangers. Or maybe I'm just over the thrill of observing them. In a way, and I think this is based on my recent moods, I see strangers and acquaintances, hell, probably some friends too, and try to figure out how whorish they are. Everyone will trade something of themselves for some gain from another person, be it fucking for money or using whitening toothpaste so as not to look like you have real teeth like everyone else. I'm guilty of it, and so is everyone else except maybe hermits and some Zen masters.

I was recently accused of judging others, and it's true, I am not proud of it, but I have it in me to express my dissatisfaction with the actions of others. Maybe my accuser should not feel so high on his (or her) horse. My point is that everyone has an amount of shit they'll forgive, as well as an amount of gray area where some people can get away with some things for some reason. I guess I don't write enough about the wonderful things that wonderful people do around me every day. Though that sounds very sarcastic, people really are constantly making me smile.

All the reading I've done over enlightenment is fascinating, and I hope to achieve enlightenment, but I don't believe I'm there yet. I have this self-preservation mechanism attached to my ego that seeks out what not to trust in everyone. In turn, I don't have many friends that I trust whole heartedly, and I'll probably never have a girlfriend again. I have three options. I could let go of my ego and accept that, since I can't trust anyone whole heartedly, nothing should be held sacred, therefore I'll have nothing to worry about. I could become completely self-aware and focus on being a perfect man, which will leave me completely alone, but happy with my purity. My third option is to stay the way I am, which is actually a combination of the other two options.

All three options are kinda crap to me. The first option, I'll call it the Bohemian option, doesn't seem to include any self-respect, only greed and empty rewards. The second option, I'll call it the Holier than Thou option, seems to lack genuine enjoyment, and seems that it would sap me of character. I mean, whose favorite Ninja Turtle was Leonardo? Option number three, the Jake option, I suppose has got me where I am, but I'm a bit discontented. Will perseverance be fruitful, or am I the living definition of insanity, expecting a different result from the same thing, over and over again? Is my discomfort based on the fact that most people can easily pick between Jesus and the Marquis de Sade, and I can't?

Nothing that hasn't been said a godzillion times already

America pisses and moans about America being fat and lazy. America shits and cries about petroleum pricing and pollution. America farts and hollers about its people's rights, which are more often than not, privileges.

I work in a mall. Thankfully not a retail job, but my place of business is in a shopping mall. I ride a bike, so I often eat at the food court on the opposite end of the mall.

We'll sidestep a second for a question of geometry. Is it actually true that the quickest route from A to B is a straight line? Not if you're walking through an American mall, it ain't! I can follow the sidewalk outside the mall to the food court and get there far faster than through the hallway. Why? Because people loaf around at almost negative speeds, elbow to spread elbow, dragging their fucking feet down every hallway, every minute of the day.

My pack-a-day smoking ass could make it from one end to the other in about 6 minutes, halls clear. The people that drive tanks to every destination further than the end of the driveway take weeks to walk past a single shop. These are most likely the people who complained enough to have my smoking PRIVILEGE taken away because they have a "RIGHT" to be fat, slow, stinky, and defensive in the "PUBLIC PLACE" that is the mall in which I work and often spend my lunch breaks. ("Public place" is in quotes because the mall is actually private property, which is why if some drunk teenager wrecks your car, the cops can't do anything about it. Since it is private property, we have no right to be there, but a privilege, and the city's smoking ban should not be enforced unless it is the will of the mall's owners, which it is, but it is not the will of several local business owners, but I digress...)

I'm not the most cultured, healthy person in America, Texas, Beaumont, even my own house, and maybe it's my awareness of that which has sparked some changes in my habits lately. My message to everyone is one word- Move. Walk a hair faster, ride a bike, run, just quit being a goddamn slug, congesting massive hallways with your goddamn slug friends and families, marveling at cheap shit made out of petroleum byproducts that are raising gas prices even more.

Or don't. I enjoy the exercise and fresh air I get when I take the outside route. When every parking spot in America requires a handicap parking tag because our population is too weak and feeble, the bike rack is still closer to the door.

Sorry, I go through this thought process many times a day. Now I've addressed it, hopefully it won't haunt me anymore.

I'd like to note that Jared Hinson fueled my knowledge of the difference between what is a right and a privilege, and the difference between public and private, when it comes to property.

NOLA

Just got back from Brotha John's wedding! It was amazing!

Here are some of the facts to which I became aware over the past 3 days.

I can meditate and focus on enlightenment 'til the cows come home, but knowing I'll be passing through certain parts of the universe, especially on the way to my brother's wedding, will become intensely destructive, in an emotional sense. I in turn learned that I can zone out in the back of my dad's car for a VERY long time, completely missing entire towns and related conversations.

My tendency to speak sarcastically has got many people to laugh and shrug off some of the most serious and important things I say.

I am rarely, if ever, interested at all in tourist attractions. I am far more inclined to enjoy the gnarled root system of a tree desperately growing through the cracks in a sidewalk, or stopping to appreciate a single brick in a huge wall, without which the wall may be considered flawed to the point of being worthless.

New Orleans is a deeply charming place. It never ceased to hold its charm, which was slightly problematic, as that charm has a particular weight for me.

Unrequited love leads to nihilism.

John and Jill really, really love each other so much that nothing bothered me when they gave their vows. That was amazing. They'll be together forever, and that restores some hope for me.

It is awkward to be one of the only single people at a wedding, especially when people ask why.

Absinthe is a great father/son bonding device.

Done with a car

Tomorrow, or more literally today, I'm going to shop for new transportation. I'm trying to decide between a cruiser/commuter bike or a Honda Ruckus.

I'd like the bike for exercise, but to be honest, I don't always feel like exerting that much energy. The only real downfall to the Ruckus is that I'd have to get insurance and a class M driver's license. That, and it will cost 2 to 3 times as much for the purchase. Hmmm...

So Here It Is

The Facebook page does still exist, but only so I can promote shows and other band stuff. I deleted all my friends, as my big problem was with always getting my communication and updates and whatnot through this fucked virtual friendship with everyone. I missed out on things because I wasn't constantly devoting my attention to the news feed. I'm such a bastard.

I've spent a lot of time reflecting and thinking about my relationships with people. Goddammit, out of nearly 700 "friends", I think I'd get more interaction and fewer lonely nights! So no more aggrandizing acquaintances. Hell, I had a couple of "friends" that I really don't even like. They're just people I know that have never directly accosted me. There's even one that I might consider my enemy, as his every action sends me reeling in disgust, and several of his actions have severely soiled my opinion of a couple of local girls I had previously spent long hours musing over.

I think my constant shutting down of social networking profiles gives people the impression that I'm a hateful asshole or something of the sort. On the contrary, I like all the people too much to rely on vague public conversations, which lack inflection, to be the medium on which to sustain friendship.

A message to many of you, the pretty girls- Your sweet words and pretty pictures tie up my brain on lonely nights. I lose sleep thinking about how you put yourselves on such a display, but for me to voice my undying appreciation just feels inappropriate, as does not voicing my appreciation. I'm too old for this shit.

So step out of the pixels and plasma screens. Be real. Let's go have tea sometime, as drunkenly trying to read myself to sleep sucks, and as it is in life and movies, so it is in a day- how it ends is every bit as important as everything else.

Cycles

It's really getting to me again, being aware of all the life going on in the outside world.

I check my facebook, only to see that everyone in the know had a blast, this rad girl is now dating this douchebag, that perfect girl is still happy with that douchebag, and that guy who fucked every girl I've ever liked is one of the 6 people that facebook wants to announce is my friend. No, he isn't. I added him because I know him, which is probably information he uses to woo the girl I daydream about. Fucker.

So I'm taking the ostrich route. Turning up the "Jake" knob, and turning down the "Everything Else" knob.

I don't need a friends list. Most of them are acquaintances anyway.

Burn Before Reading

So, drunkenly, I decided the other night to write a pretty long message to a girl through facebook, telling her how she makes me feel, how I appreciate everything about her, and all that stuff that keeps me hoping she'll call or show up somewhere. I spent a long time wording everything perfectly and trying to make sure that even if she wasn't interested, she would still take it as a compliment. Then I deleted it. It is a hard lesson to learn and make a practice of, but it seems the only way to keep something you really like is to never, ever show any appreciation.

A statement of satisfaction is a kiss of death.

I have an idea. I'm going to make a motivational/instructional film to help everyone with workplace survival. The title- How to Exercise Power You Don't Have

Example scenario- Your boss comes into your work area and starts to criticize your work ethic. You learn to interrupt him, show him how he's being counter-productive, and finish by forcefully ejecting him from your work area.

It'll be riddled with catch phrases to motivate, like "Put your balls where your mouth is, and you'll never have to use your hands" meaning that speaking confidently will help dominate and resolve situations without resorting to physical action.

God, I hope I don't get too lazy to do this!

A Summarized Conversation

J- He would probably bail on her, were it not for a guilt complex, where I would blow up the world just to float in space alone with her.

V- Holy shit, I know exactly what you mean!

J (to himself)- Why you, and not her?

V (presumably to himself)- Why you, and not her?

About to take a shower and go test drive (and hopefully buy) a 1972 Super Beetle!

Think good thoughts... Think good thoughts...

We Were Wolves at SxSW Schedule!

For those who can make it-

March 18th at 9:00pm Club Primos for the Connect the DotsSXSW Party!!!!!
March 19th (time tba) at Creekside Lounge
March 20th at 2:30pm Trophy's (outside)
March 20th at 8:00pm Moose Lodge

And we have cds and new t-shirts!

Fuck a Title, I'll Use One When I Feel I Should

The Invasion was pretty darn good, and different enough from the other two to make it worth a watch. As far as the hope of all humanity resting in a wee little dingleberry, eh, sorta. They did an okay job of that kinda being the case. I have a feeling Legion is going to be far more idiotic about it, but it looks like a cool action flick.

For an awesome experience in music, go here and listen to "My Ass" by Ger Men.

Enjoy.

I never thought you were perfect, which is exactly how I knew you were perfect.

Social Disease Networking

Imagine this...

A cold sore signs on to his Facebook account and learns that AIDS and The Common Cold are now friends. Out of jealousy, he bypasses the "Like" button. He then notices that Chlamydia and Scabies are now fans of Strep A. He likes to shred, so he becomes a fan. He then ignores a second friend request from Val T. Rex, and leaves his mark on someone's wall.

I don't know. I had an idea, lost it, and continued anyway. I'm here to ramble...

Invasion of the Tired Cliche

So Netflix sent The Invasion, which is the third telling, or second expansion, depending on how you look at it, of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The original, starring Kevin McCarthy, and the 197(8?) remake(?), starring Donald Sutherland are both great movies, but I've heard less than great reviews of this one. Kinda piqued my interest, as it tends to be the case that bad sci-fi (or syfy, as the idiot box so stupidly decided to spell it, because it decided a drop in its intelligence quotient would earn it some street cred. For an explanation, read some graffiti.) is the best sci-fi.

So I'm about to celebrate a lonely night at home with a cold by watching this movie, and I read the synopsis on the envelope. "...her son may be the planet's only hope for survival." God H. Dammit! (Thanks for that one, Brother John). Legion looked cool until the gun-wielding angel mention that a girl's unborn child was humanity's only hope for survival. John Conner in the Terminator series is okay, as is the baby in Children of Men, I don't know why yet, but that is not what I'm writing about anyway.

I just feel that the brakes should be thrown on movies where the future of humanity relies on one little brat, songs with the words "walking down the street", and religion and politics altogether. Instead, just let me enjoy the creepy monsters, sing about hot girls on escalators, and let the guys behind the curtains keep us blissfully ignorant so I can watch a movie with a new idea and listen to songs that inspire me to imagine something happening somewhere other than the street.

Here's a paragraph for those who want to see me get what I'm asking for. Not this paragraph, the one with the indention.

Greetings, readers! Today, I went to the movies, as did several of the people I see everywhere I go. What a coincidence! Not just that we were all at the movies, but they all happened to show up in the same make and model of car! Anyway, in this movie, the fate of humanity rested comfortably in the girthy arms of a sweet old lady who sang these songs with the lyrics- "I saw my baby strutting through the tundra" and "there I was, just maneuvering along the monkey bars, as I often do". It was great! Afterwards, I looked up at the sky, which was a beautiful blue with gentle wisps of cloudmatter. As the mild breeze caressed my face, I smiled, appreciated the moment for what it was, and felt no guilt whatsoever that I had made no sacrifice to feel such a pleasant feeling. Whoever runs this place sure does a great job! I'd sure be sore if someone took away my easy, happy way of life. To have a purpose just seems like so much work! I'm glad life isn't like the movies, except for the songs old ladies sing!

I actually tried to make that paragraph seem like life would wind up stupid and unenjoyable, but please, reader, take notice of all the exclamation marks. The sarcasm kinda melts away when I imagine life that way. I think I could enjoy life a lot more easily if I weren't constantly made aware of how shitty life can be, or is.

Anyway, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was fine as a paranoia flick, and even if this one is sucked all to Hell by some cliched mystical young butthole, I can always go enjoy the other two. Hopefully, in the future they'll find a new way to make us feel fucked with a 10 per cent chance of hope, which is how I feel about a future free of movies where the planet's only chance of survival is a child. Walking down the street. Campaigning for Jesus W. Obama.

Transparency

I ran into a series of past and present crushes/loves tonight. Each was as beautiful and horrible as I could imagine. I am now more certain than ever that I am not supposed to have that brand of happiness, which sucks because I really want it.

Yeah

I miss her.

Fuzzhugger (FX)

Just wanted to share some love for Fuzzhugger (FX), run by Tom Dalton, who makes and sells damn fine effect pedals! Tom made my AlgRoar. I threw the idea his way, and he worked magic with it! Now he's working with me on another something special...

Vids soon, I hope!

Blast from the Past

When things were good, just before they hit the highest point ever, then took a shit straight to Hell, I enjoyed The Velvet Underground and this.

Happy Valentine's Day

It All Makes Sense! Thank You, Bible!

My Mama asked me "Do you know how the Bible begins?".

I say "In the beginning".

She says (and ah, fuck! I feel like I'm leaving something out) "In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was 'God'. And that is what all creation came from, the word 'God". We were discussing the metaphysical importance of sound.

This is how it all makes sense-

In my mind, in an alternate existence, some guy was given yet another bit of information that made his miserable existence even more miserable, to which he said to himself in a desperate, somewhat whiny manner, as though he were pissing, moaning, and about to ask for some form of relief, be it death or a coma, or whatever- "God".

This seemingly harmless statement spawned a brand new existence, somewhere entirely separate from the Speaker's universe. Had his tone been more joyous, our universe would be far more harmonious, and things would only feel good, and we wouldn't be bogged with discontent about why we exist or what we need to do to be our perfect selves, as deemed by a higher power who hasn't the decency to equip us with the slightest hint of knowledge of our purpose, but no, the entire basis of all we are, all we know, and all we will ever experience, is a mildly vulgar groan.

No wonder we're all filled to the brim with negativity. No wonder we're blinded with frustration and stupidity.

So how many billions of universes have we created that we'll likely never be accounted for? Maybe that's why PMA is a good thing. Who wants the weight of multiple universes* subliminally crushing them?

*Since spellcheck didn't have a problem with the pluralization of the word "universe", I'm no longer convinced that there is only one of them. Being that the definition of the word doesn't really leave room for anything to exist outside the universe, including another universe, and two things, supposedly, can't occupy the same space at the same time, the Fabric of Reality has entirely unravelled, and the purest form of chaos has kept everything as we have always perceived it to be, which is why you didn't notice when the Goose Down Vest of Reality became Nothing. Basically, we don't exist, but no one noticed.

Learning to Scream

Thanks, Poison Idea, for writing such a killer song.

Anyway, they say that patience is a virtue. That is one of those "other virtues" that Maximus can do without. I've always been the patient one, giving everyone else all the time in the world to find their comfort zone, but it's all lead me nowhere. All this patience has me living at my dad's house, single, broke, and working a shit job to validate my existence to who? My band mates? Girls? My folks? What does it say that I'm working my ass off, and squeezing in an hour or two every other day to be who I am? What does it say that when a woman is everything I ever hope to have, I'll drop everything to be with her only to have her dash into the arms of some fratboy butthole?

It kills me to be so calm and understanding, ready to stand on the sidelines while everyone else fingers their asses until they wake up and realize that they might only get one shot at life, and though there's no guarantee of success with every try, there is absolute guarantee of failure if you don't try.

I feel like I'm in many people's future, but goddammit, the future is never here, only the present, where I am miserably waiting for someone to catch up. Or at least try.

Acme Double-Edged Swords

I understand corporations. I appreciate them in ways, and despise them in others. I work for a corporate company which touts itself as being run by artists. Hah!

Corporations brainwash like this- They bring you in to work at "competitive wages" and offer various discounts and "benefits". I guess minimum wage is competing with all other forms of payment, beating all the cockroaches you can eat, and being beaten by almost tolerably low wages. Discounts are often nice, if you can find anything you want and can afford, which is often, in the Vinn diagram, found etched into one of the few fibers that connect the two circles, merely by coincidence. Then the discounts are often not worth the hassle of filing a 1040 Pain in the Ass edition, which can only be approved by a higher up whose plate is overflowing with menial rhetoric as it is. So why not just spend the full amount at the nice Mom and Pop? Benefits are the big one. Okay, I dig vision insurance. I've been wearing the same pair of 30 day contacts for around 4 years now. But you have to have medical insurance. I had medical insurance once. Got hooked on anxiety medication and nearly killed someone when I missed a dose. Found out that clinical anxiety is actually a side effect of being a human, especially one who is following a path in life toward something for which said human has never had, and will never have, any passion nor interest at all.

They also give you responsibility and rank (more work and a placebo-fashioned ego boost) which make your job seem more valuable, but some of us eventually realize that 90 per cent of our waking hours are spent existing as a convenience who can quickly become an annoyance if we aren't efficient enough.

So yeah, I'm seriously quitting my job.

Gonna Live!

I think I'm actually about to quit the employment game. I have a couple of active music projects now, both of which need much attention. Also, I need to go to NYC for awhile. I have a few financial goals to reach, then I'll be very much free to fix my life, as in make it something I want to be a part of.

Only I can make myself happy, so I'm gonna do that by being me as much as I can.

Maybe the 30 year mark is playing a part in all this. Who cares? I'm doing it!

30

Whoopty shit.

Goddammit, Organization!

Now that my pedalboard is all set up and put together all nice, I can't find my old 9 volt, center-negative adapter, so I can't fuck around with the AlgRoar! Not at home anyway, and I've got laundry going...

Losing My Shit

My face is burning. I've been fighting off the urge to blow up all day. Two and a half years I've felt completely awful, save for a few exceptional blinks. Why can't I find any peace? Why does everyone keep insisting I choose to feel this way?

Everything people tell me is virtuous about me makes me hate myself. I am about ready to join the uncaring medicated masses.

This is my problem. Apparently, no one can fix it but me. If that's true, I don't know how.

I May Be a Bastard...

...But I'm not a fuckin' bastard. To finish the quote properly. But really, maybe I am a fuckin' bastard. Who gives a shit?

She got upset when she decided to read my blog. She talked to me about it, I still don't understand why, but I made her the offer that I'd never make an allusion to her again. Turns out my offer holds as much water as hers does.

I don't wish any harm on her. I don't hate her, and I don't want anyone else to either. This is the only venue where I feel okay talking about the big deal shit in my life and how it affects me. This is where I vent. I'm sure it's far harder for me to bottle everything up than it is for her to not take the time to navigate to this page and read up on the thoughts of a guy that isn't worth her time.

Reader, I don't give a shit if you think I'm sick or pathetic, obsessive, a true romantic, retarded, whatever. This is the end of my every day. This is what I go to bed with every night. This is running through my brain every minute of every day, so if the few minutes it takes for you to inform or entertain yourself makes you uncomfortable, good. If it makes you unhappy with who I am, then fist yourself in the ass, up to the shoulder. When you choke on your knuckles, it won't make a goddamned shit to me. I already have enough on my mind.

Anyway, she ain't coming back. She doesn't give a shit about me. The only reason she even read anything was to find out what someone else in the world thought about her. Hopefully that isn't true, but as I've said before, about having hope of being with her again- Hope is the ladder we climb, only to make the fall that much more painful. So fuck it. My hatred for life is a direct result of the irresponsibility we both had with my heart. I can't lay all the blame on her for that. But if she feels bad about what I write and won't do anything to fix it, then she can have her fucking fratboy status booster and piss herself with discontent until they both drown in discontented piss. She made her choice and left me with none.

Jay Reatard died, and Greggy Boosh was the first to introduce me to his music. It's Greggy Boosh's birthday. Sorry Greg. Happy birthday anyway.

And for good measure- the word "cunt".

Who's the girl who has it all?

The one with a guy who doesn't deserve her and a guy who would live or die for her that she doesn't have to talk to.

Congratulations.

Finished!

And shipping out Monday!

One Step Closer!

A few minor changes, including putting in the footswitches (plural!) and LEDs (also plural!), and I got me a new custom built fuzz pedal! Thanks to Emily Williams for the art and Tom Dalton at Fuzzhugger (fx) for building the damn thing!

No Good Can Come Of Some Things

Apparently Little Wayne had a shitty turn out tonight. I don't like him at all, despite some people's efforts to impress me. Okay, maybe one or two of his several hundred tracks were ok. The point is, I'm ashamed of people's laziness. As many people talk about how much they love his music, you'd think the show would be packed.

I went in to work 45 minutes early today to spend some quality time with The Missus, but I was blocked by all the freight that had come in earlier. Dang.

It's gonna freeze. Hard. No snow. Shit.

I am in one of those states where I'd like to punch myself in the mouth until I broke teeth and my face was a pulpy, bloody, unrecognizable blob. It all started with trusting someone, so I can't say I recommend it.

The One Thing I Want The Most

Yeah, I was talking about a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

I Feel Hated

I feel hated by the universe. I've been conditioned my whole life to want to do the right thing and be a good person. I've always tried to be honest and act only when my heart tells me to. I've avoided doing harm to anyone or anything as much as I can.

Every time I try to enjoy myself, the world throws it in my face in intense ways, that I cannot have the one thing in the world I want the most. Every thought is connected.

I would rather die than think anymore.

Been Sick All Day

I remember rolling over 2 or 3 times today. The rest of the time, I was dreaming of grim landscapes, made out of dried up flesh and body parts. There were beat poets in freight trailers, telling me that we were headed for a war of the mind, but anything was going to be better than what we knew before. There were beings called "Hurled Shushy", which were basically old dead bodies, thrown at you as a gift from the world around you.

One of the most dreadful part was that after the apocalypse that led to all this, the spirits of the innocent became the new race, and their initial goal was to make sacrifices of all the intellects, as they were evil and had evil powers.

There was also a cavern made of damaged plastic, which formed hideous faces. The concept of the cavern was that it was irreparable and symbolized pure despair.

There was much more to it all, but I'd have to bring up real world things I don't wanna write about.

Well...

The day turned out okay enough. I'm used to people coming into the shop and obnoxiously playing their best riffs at a high volume, and no matter how good they are, it gets old really quick. Today, there was one guy playing Chet Atkins songs at a reasonable volume. It was so nice, I told hum that he was the first customer ever to be invited to turn up the volume and play all day. My work day ended with a guy from a church utilizing his tax exemption, but being completely mild mannered and cooperative when asked to fill out the required paperwork. Nice day...

Oh yeah, best of all, I spent half of my lunch break with the missus! Still working on paying her bail...

New Year's Post

Today was beautiful, with the cool breeze and sunny skies. I put a new guitar on layaway, a Les Paul Vintage Pro. Then, I spent the turn of the year with friends. A great way to end the year.

It's 1:17 am, New Year's Day, 2010. I have work in a few hours, my cat is sick, I have a blind spot in the center of my field of vision, similar to that of a migraine, but it's been there for several days, and worst of all, well, if you know me well at all, I don't have to say it. For those who might not know me that well, think of every couple you saw kissing at midnight, and whatever feeling comes to mind, take its intensity and apply it to gut-twisting negativity.

The good news- my year can only get better.