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.