Things to avoid in '09

in no particular order.....

Spending money on Magic Online
Slot Machines/video poker/video blackjack
Beer
Mope time
Facebook
Unrealistic aspirations
Anxiety
Shit talking
Haste

this will grow, I'm sure.

What nervousness is

To me it can be most accurately described as a pit. A hole somewhere beneath the center that can drag everything else down into it, shitting out whatever whenever it deems itself ready or so full that everything must go. If you are lucky you get brilliance and maybe some kind of insight to the external world. Most often times it just leads to picking and scratching. Anxious twitches. Sleepless nights in blinding darkness with a cat named Underworld Dreams. Gum chewing. At worst self and interpersonal destruction. In the gut of this pit is a little man who screams at you about wasting your time and his. He is hungry. And he can't live off what you're feeding him. If you listen closely, if you listen hard enough and pay real close attention he'll tell you what he needs. But it's never explicit. Or maybe it is but you just don't have the wherewithal to acquire that specific need - because he won't die; so you figure it's okay to keep giving him novels and records, historically accurate and socially conscious documentaries, soy products, a gym membership. He'll shut up for a little bit, doesn't talk with his mouth full. By now you've figured out you have two choices; you can keep consuming and scratching, or you can stop and listen and figure out what it is you can do for yourself to get a decent night's sleep.

convincing myself of a protective fallacy

I don't have to accomplish anything. I don't have to do anything. There are many things I could be doing. There is no should to any of them. There is an inherent perfection within us all that is poured through a prism of human imperfection and perception. It is great to be around others. It is greatest to be alone.

a sincere thank you for all the birthday wishes

Little things can be huge. This has been one of the emptiest days of my life. I'm glad we had Saturday.

This is the last poem I'll be posting on here, this and all others past, present, and future will be found by clicking on the link to the right

that says "poems"

There is no time to collect.
The gatherers won't recognize looks,
but those who hunt will. Your heart
and realization is what the wind drops
as it carries the snow across the highway.
Horses will stand in the streets
and roar as lions with their
jowls slouched toward Bethlehem,
their drivers now the fuel.
The seconds are always the same
as the first. Bringing burden home.
Slowed down you wouldn't know
the difference.

birthday bashed

This was a great weekend. Went to Iowa City Friday night, got back to Muscatine this morning. Friday I came up for a show at Public Space One. Daughters of the Sun and Sarah Johnson from Minneapolis played. It was good to see Cole and those guys again. We had nice little reunion. I don't think the Iowa City crowd was too into them and they didn't play the best show ever either, but still I wouldn't ever get too bummed out by the lack of reaction from an Iowa City crowd. Nothing against the town or the people, I love em both. But they can be a little tough to win over, I guess. Anyways, got a little drunk, tried to wrestle Jeff, became a "slimey chud" (which is apparently a compliment), gave my keys to Shawn and I crashed on his couch but not before talking about girls until 2 a.m. and the having a conference call with Kevin on speakerphone for the next hour. I guess Shawn and Kevin stayed on the phone till 4:30 a.m. after I passed out. Talking about the scene and frustrations, etc.

Was going to get breakfast with the Daughters of the Sun fellas the next morning but they took off early for Chicago to try and get ahead of the weather. Went to lunch at Masala's with Shawn and his folks, had some great buffet and then went and got my hair done by Michelle at the G-Spot. Michelle's a nice girl, an old Muscatiner. She was there for the '05 birthday fiasco. After the haircut I tried to do some shopping for xmas. Needed to get gifts for my bros kids. Did not want to drive to Coralville. Iowa City must only possess one snow plow. The roads were shit and just did not want to get involved in that mess. Michelle and random G-Spot patron recommended I check out the White Rabbit across the street from Record Collector, I could find some cute clothes for the kids there they said. I was going to Record Collector anyhow so I popped in to check it out. Ended up getting a tiny shirt for Eva, the newest niece; it's blue and has a cassette tape on it. I wanted to get this vintage checkered coat for Alexandra but it was too much money for something she probably wouldn't like anyways, and I know her parents wouldn't have liked it. But the coolest thing about the White Rabbit is that it has this homing beacon that signals every cute 22 year old girl in town towards it. The only bad part is they bring their parents to help them buy all those cool vintage clothes and scarves. Can't ever have too many scarves, I guess. Don't they know I have a job now and can buy them all the scarves they need? Oh well. So xmas shopping was kind of a failure.

Birthday shopping for myself, however, at the Record Collector was a great success! Here's a list of the LP presents I picked out for me:

Night Wounds on Woodsist, artwork by Shawn

Jack Rose - Kensington Blues

Om - Live at Jerusalem

Smashing Pumpkins - Gish

My Bloody Valentine - Loveless

A pretty stellar haul, if I do say so myself. Much thanks to me for having great taste. After that I walked back to Shawn's. We sorta bummed around for a while till about 5 and then decided to brave the cold and go out to Mormon Trek to get some coffee and hang with Kevin. Kevin and I talked about drafting Tempest while Shawn got bored and talked to some girl on the phone for a while, trying to arrange a quick hang before the party. Kevin ended up getting off an hour early and we gave him a ride back since he thought it was an awesome idea to walk to work. By this time it was excruciatingly cold so it was fortuitous that he got off when he did. We drop off Shawn at the girl's place, go back to Kevin's so he can change and then we go back and pick up Shawn. It was really only about a 20 minute hang he had with this girl. They dated for a few months and broke up once he got back from tour. Not quite sure what the point of the hang was. Apparently Shawn's a stud.

So it's cold as fuck out. Not sure if I mentioned that. But we weren't going to drive because it's Iowa City and there's point. Prior to the bar we were meeting up with a few folks at the Sanctuary for dinner. Shawn, Kevin, and I walk/wrestle our way to dinner, meet up with Sarah, Tama, and a few others to eat. Everyone's still complaining about having to go to One Eyed Jake's and some are refusing to go if there's a cover. So it was probably for the best anyhow, we end up going to the Deadwood. It was an excellent time, drank lots of beer, didn't get too out of hand, saw a lot of people, further developed my crush on blonde Deadwood waitress, maintained my birthday promise of not blacking out or going to jail, a straight up success. We ended up going to a house party after bar. Don't know whose house but that was cool. Saw a few more people I knew, put some drunk kid to bed who had passed out in the upstairs hallway (see facebook for picture of said kid), creeped out some girls by sitting uncomfortably close to them on the couch much to the delight of my friends, tried to leave with some furniture, continued success. Except for the Matt Francis part. I could kinda worried that we left him at the party but he made it back to Shawn's just fine. Then I passed out on Shawn's couch again. Didn't even have much of a hangover this morning.

So I'm pretty happy with the way the evenings turned out. It's funny, I saw that kid in the hallway and I couldn't help but think about how that used to be me, all the time at every party. Probably why I helped him out, even though I'm sure whosever bed that was was probably pissed.

whittling

I didn't wake up until almost 2 p.m. today. Was up till about 4 or 5 a.m. last night. Today has been an absolute waste. Part of me is saying there's no such thing. A waste of a day. At least not in these times. Part of the reason I came home was to lick my wounds. Sometimes that means doing absolutely fucking nothing at all on a Sunday. I've basically been on the couch with my dad, on the computer, while he watches old westerns on t.v. We don't say a whole lot. He'll make a comment, I'll nod in agreement, he'll crack wise, I'll give out a chuckle. I continue to sit with him and the computer.

Kevin and I went to a show on Friday night. Shawn was back from tour and playing at this house over on Van Buren in Iowa City. Turned out to be Alison's old house from when we dated. It wasn't as strange as I thought it'd be. I used to be able to tie significance to just about anything. I used to do a lot of things. Kevin and I didn't seem to have much fun. We kinda sat in the corner and ignored everyone, Shawn was in the requisite coming-back-from-tour-and-I-don't-want-to-be-in-Iowa foul mood, and the atmosphere was just off for the whole thing. I felt like we had just crashed a slumber party we weren't invited to. I mean, I had a lot of friends there - but vibe of the night was not mine, it was full of boredom and cock sucking. Kevin and I got out of there before the last "band" played, right after Shawn's band, Wet Hair, finished. Apparently as Kevin and I were leaving Shawn was getting dumped. Awesome night all around.

What we DO counts.

I'm starting to second guess my move home. It's not a Muscatine vs. Minneapolis thing. It's not about working from home. It's not about my dad. I love my dad. I'll tell you why: He lined the birdcage with Blogojevich newspaper pictures and didn't say a thing about it. Not because he forgot or didn't want me to notice. He did it because he believes that the bird shitting on an image of his face actually has cosmic repercussions. Now, anyone that knows Gary, and Gary himself, would cry ultimate "bullshit" to that statement. I like to think that it's his intrinsically instilled commitment to the knowledge of empiricism; that all actions, no matter how small have some kind of consequence in the universe.

Echo says "whatever"

I was reading over a post a few entries back where I was talking about shame. Shame in the morning or sometimes the lack thereof. Defined by its absence I can create and experience new perspectives. Defined by the the stifling presence I retire to the fear-bricked hut of self-loathing and despair. That's kinda common knowledge though. What strikes me now is this guy who has to give up what he doesn't need to, what he shouldn't most often times, in order to have a night out. It's either dignity or money isn't it? There's a price to every interaction. Or maybe just the ones worth talking about the next day. What a sad, little guy. Little buddy.

Finished up Season 3 of Lost and watched the very last episode of The Wire. After four beers I've suddenly lost the desire to gush over television.

I thought I heard my dad crying in bed from the basement where I have my desk and turntable. I checked. It was just the wind. He'd never let me hear him cry. Not now, not as we're trying to make things normal. I'm so glad he talks about her to me because I can't bring myself to do it yet.

Only working till 6 tomorrow. I'll try and get to the Y. Picked up more overtime for next week. You'll probably be hearing much of the same next week as this week in this thing.

Now is probably a good time to go and re-tool the poem all in red.

I need to own things

Work wasn't so bad today. It went by fairly quickly. I really shouldn't be complaining at all about working overtime in my pajamas while watching The Daily Show and Biggest Loser. I probably only got about 4 hours of sleep last night. I didn't get into bed until 2 a.m., fell asleep around 3 or 4, I think. I had this awful dream about a demon fetus in a jar screaming out all these real and unreal secrets my family has. I ended up smashing it with a Donatello-like staff. I've been trying to do those sit-ups in the morning right as I roll out of bed but I'm so tired I lose count by about 20 and probably fall asleep somewhere in the 30's. Probably the only exercise where it's possible to do that. Ya know, since you're on your back and all.

Anyhow, I told myself that when I moved down here "a lot" of things were going to "change." I.E. I was going to purchase big ticket items that were supposed to make it easier for me to create.

Item #1 - iMac. The biggest one they got. This was going to help me record and produce music and run my tape label better. I really do think this is a must have. Maybe not the biggest and most expensive one they have but a new computer is needed. Something where I don't have to think to use it. It should be intuitive and linear. Nice looking too. Everything I'd ever want in a girl . Give it to me in a computer. Approx. $3000

Item #2 - Xbox 360/Ps3 + Rock Band 2. This was supposed to teach me how to play the drums. There is some dispute about its ability. Man, I wish I could play the drums. I should probably test one out first before making this investment. Approx. $600

Item # 3 - The Electro Harmonix Hog. This could be one of the most amazing guitar pedals I've ever seen. It's an organ simulator with pitch bending abilities. Midi capable. Approx. $500

Item # 4 - One year YMCA membership. Approx. $300

Cost to change life = $4400.

So far, I've gotten the Y membership. I think it's working. I've gone once. My basketball game needs a lot of work. Signed up for those yoga classes.

All this stuff. I gotta get this stuff. It will work for me if I give it all the proper respect. I've always been so careless with everything. That can't be the case this go around. With ownership comes responsibility. In so many ways.

it's starting to set in

The other night Matt and Kat told me it was sit-ups that I needed. Ben says it's definitely not yoga. These 12 hour days of work are something else. I'm making cartoon money but I can't tell if it's worth it. It is. But I just can't tell. Maybe if I was on the receiving end of my Lost netflix discs I wouldn't be so down - but something about today was just completely off. It's probably the approach of Christmas. Probably why I made the huge invite for my birthday party on Facebook today. Definitely should not have invited so many people from work. They're not going to come anyways and now they know that I'm a huge drunk. Like they didn't before, but you always read about people getting fired for Facebook crap. So goddamn stupid.

I always seem to turn Metalocalypse on just as it's about to end. Story of my life.

Basically, I'm feeling really sorry for myself. Every time I went upstairs today I expected to see my mom. Expected to hear her. I could feel what it felt like to be hugged by her, what it felt like just to be in the same room with her. I started to forget what it was like to take care of her every day as she was dying. I started to forget that she died in a hospital bed in the living room where I watch t.v. with my dad still. Maybe "forget" is the wrong word. I'll never be able to forget. I don't want to forget. But I definitely don't want to remember as much as I do. As often as I do. Today I started to get my wish. One could assume that this would pay off with a sense of relief or comfort. I'm blessed with the memory of her and not tormented so much by the thought of her suffering. But it's just a different kind of grief. At least for now. I do feel closer to her in a way, after today. I know full well how powerful and real memory can be. But it's opening a whole other door of realization, the terrifying aspect of eternity. More than anything I wish I could know how she's doing right now.

lost my maps

I should get back in the habit of doing this. I was reading Matt's blog and noticing how he seems to keep post quite regularly. I think it'd be helpful for me to just type and talk it out. I like posting poetry, but I can only talk in code so much and so far no one, including myself, has been able to crack it. Last night I asked Matt where our lives went wrong over beers at the Foxhead. Closest I could come to pinpointing it was that we never had a plan for ourselves. There was never anything to refine, no vision - just vague ideas and a thousand different ways we could say "wouldn't it be great if..."

I think I should give up drinking. But my birthday is coming up. There are a lot of things I need not to think about this birthday. And I'm sharing it with at least 3 friends who have birthdays in December who love to drink. I think we're starting out at One Eyed Jake's. This doesn't bode well for someone with a record of public intoxication in the drinkinest bar in the drinkinest town in Iowa.

Working a bunch more overtime this week. Right now I'm infuriating Jennie over my ability to describe the waft of strippers and how it nearly drove me mad at the casino last night. Oh yeah, Matt met up with my dad and I at the Riverside Casino last night. I lost $5. Matt won about $10 in front of some girls I told him to gamble next to. They weren't going to leave the casino with us unless we asked, I could tell. And we didn't ask.

I think this Oren Ambarchi album is affecting the way I type and think and know. They're all the same anyhow. But I still don't know why I most always awake full of shame the morning after a good night of drinking. The last time I can remember when I didn't was the morning after the adventure Andy and I had at the strip club. Maybe one of the most decadent, indulgent, and socially shameful nights of my life and I woke up feeling like a new man, proud and excited about a new world. A world where naked women will roll all over you for money the same way my cat rolls and drools on the carpet over her catnip. I woke up drunk and confident. I went to work. Andy called in sick. I was out of sick days. Probably wouldn't have mattered though. I felt great. Until I puked in the bathroom. But my coworkers were proud. And so was I. Maybe something like that will happen on my birthday. I don't want to go back to jail. And I don't want to wake up feeling like I did this morning. Alone, beat up, and full of shit - unsure of what I said amongst friends, unsure of what I gave up to the people that matter; not the ones I have to pay.

Last night at the Deadwood, towards the end of the night, as I was bemoaning the fact that not only had I missed T.I. on SNL but I had requested Whatever You Like twice on the jukebox and it had yet to come on after about half an hour of waiting, a the ringleader of a group of 3 college girls called me out for being a misogynist. It's strange what people can pick up in a short amount of time.

roller over

Whatever it is my kidneys
could catch
They are some spiritual
Sails away of my body
loneliness aspects and complete,
memories are wet and the wind.
The darkest shoulder blades
slung into my sides. These flanks
must be filled with a kind
of nutritional sweetness.

From Blackest

The spirit world is real. We are tied of it by a rope of white. You can feel on the back of your neck the proof our extension. Echoes are part of its complexion but not its complexity. Motive matters little. How, when, and where we re-materialize depends completely on the choices we make before we turn black. Please, try and live a good life - and not just the life you deem good.

Only until you realize you will remain who you are for eternity will you know who you are. There is much to know besides who you are, but acceptance of the self is the first step to take.

Wagering a Build for the Reminder of a Scent

Going on a great January
soon after the coldest fog lifts
and I catch its drag,
an orb of sensed muscles
tight and blue from an emotional
hibernation. They say you see one
in a photograph and that's a ghost. "She"

is the most beautiful
word I can think
of and it is as far as

anything. I could kill
To have your place for a weekend
without you

but give of me
a house of toil,

Lord: it is past our time,
our space is the illusion of long letters & leafy pokes,
what distant falls -- shuffling companions
to the way.

Your confusion brings us,
makes us a town; much movement. Just heard all over,
like a warm bath, stepping out the shower.
Suddenly, I am
with expansion and fantasies
of girls without much brains, curled
up, content, thin, and happy with old, rotten
me, my stink, and the boredom of my tastes.
Year round it gets like this, watching music
become a periphery.

hello

Hi. I live in Muscatine again. It's been a shitty fucking year. But I'm glad and thankful to be back. I planned on writing a whole bunch with this first post in a long time, because there's a lot to say - but I just realized I can't do it right now. There's so much to say. It makes me realize I should be reading instead. But I'm listening to the new Boris LP. It is excellent - so much so I'll forgive them for needlessly putting it on two LP's. I look forward to seeing them and my friends Monday night. Instead of unpacking I'm going to read and listen to this thing again. Peace.

index of buzzards

it is a dead egg,
a lantern, no moths inside
just deafness
comes easy.
Though I hear the wave
of their wings panting in sky.

goddammit

She is her own
Great opium den
Passing vials of child
And the first ever notion
Of what life would be like
Without the idea of loss,
Of cancer, of the assumption
Of everything until now
When you're giving up and hoping
For a quick end.
The bank I washed
Up on to my arms clung
With the denial
Of every path I have
Taken - each road delivering
Some hut of this -
If I could get no more.

If I could crawl inside a name

What little light
I find myself in,
the great sun and her
butcher's sleeves
dangling the purple
of a candle's warmth,
given to burning dirt,
it is proper to praise her.

finally, a loss at home

My sister says she can
SEES THE SHADOW
cats, promises enough
of the window and gets
with the way like a blister
or black hole. Both whisker promise.

hop, get ready

Shadow cats,
I got a brand new messenger
bag. Let's go to Mount
Rushmore and other
geographic centers,
compounds. Mass,
smelling salad, literally 2
minutes. Wisconsin
for booze.

Happy Birthday Torgerson

the sun is coming down on the strip
of park that ran for a block between
Stone and Fulliam. The seven-toed
cat has plenty of water. There are
crawdads out back where your Father
was going to build the fall and stream.
Golf balls on the porch, your neighbor
John's shit is all over the yard, his bikes
are in the lane. Remember always
switching rooms with your sisters?
And the Packard Bell
with two c.d. rom drives.

This weekend is over

Apeshit paranoia -
what's done is done -
we're never leaving
when there's work.
Gotta hear what's
gonna be heard.
Sit tight, we'll see up
until you sleep.

Welcome to Heaven, full of wins and frozen pizza

Agreeing to be denizens
must be burning all
we can see together,
empty out your old circles
and climb into the carriers
lining your mouth with carpet.
Exit wounds lead some
where they always needed
to be. From here the entire
world looks like a wild pair
of open legs, blinding
and as global as the sea.
Midway through the kill
you realized you held
the sword.

goodnight everyone

looking into an apoplectic breeze
as the sycamores drop their leaves,
everything is starting to stare
and the whole world likes a pair
of spread legs
leaking diesel.

Enjoy your stay

business bikes
and out of control shirts,
fingers dancing
with impatience.
come sit down
on my face with
the rats from
the crawl space.

Welcome to Hell, we have books and cigars

she told us a romance
over the better part
of a decade. Once
it was over we raised
4 children.
It was classic depictions
versus old fashioned,
mutual self denial.
Here there is no end
to the world just proper
courting rituals.

by remote instinct

she screamed
so many ways
to listen,
listen to us
against the break
in the ground,
it says die.

burning over phono

Not the town,
your powers
she said
walking around Lake Calhoun,
the water's young take sleep
in their ears
taking store of memory,
even the deceptions,
would ripen
their perceptions.

return of the to-do

for Saturday and Sunday

1. bicycle
2. clean room
3. do some laundry before it gets out of control
4. write songs with Ian and Adam
5. attend Austin's graduation party
6. sit on the porch and listen to music, enjoying this nice weather
7. talk to Mom and Dad
8. talk to Susan
9. learn how to use MS Frontpage to update Never Ender website.

Just got back from Iowa. So many tapes.

Who had a picnic
in the tub
all full of shit
over cakes and super sand?

CAFFEINE FREE MOUNTAIN DEW

CAFFEINE FREE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW

for everyday for all I care

this familiar
grint
found friends
because the tie

kevin had no idea that he and i were blogging

grant: so, it all comes back together
grant: when my pet robot broke up it became hugs and MLIW
kevin: That first band was better.
grant: my pet robot?
grant: i know!
grant: nothing tops mpr
kevin: Exceop MHP.
kevin: *Except
drunkenboat93: MHoP?
kevin: Yup.
grant: are you forgetting vine and the archer?
grant: the correct answer is "nope"
grant: i need a chorus peddle and a wah
kevin: You have all that you need.
grant: are you telling me, that when i'm ready, i can dodge bullets?
kevin: I don't have to.
grant: dodge bullets?
kevin: Exactly.
kevin: What would you do if I learned a martial art?
grant: learn a better one
kevin: Good answer.

could be finding a spot

So all these goings on. New places to rest.
Familiar people becoming the first point
of contact and reintroductions are the song.
Get smiling, fuck the weekend.
Perfect pockets lack the summer
without a breezy night.

this blog, as a whole, is needlessly dramatic because I am a really bored dude.

I've just been floating around and viewing some of you all's blogs and I noticed how much less depressing and whiny they are than mine. And I also noticed how much more you people do. Or at least maybe you blog about it more. And that's great. I just must seem like a big bag of no-fun. Which, truth be told, is one of my biggest fears - not being fun. Kinda stupid, huh? Anyways, I'm just killing time while making tapes. I'll probably end up posting three or so blogs tonight. This shit is gonna take a while.

I had to take a nap

I slept from 7 to 9 tonight. After I got home from the bike shop I sat at my desk for a few minutes, turned the Celtics game on the radio, and stared at the wall. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I got into bed and slept to and through the game. Boston won. Regular season ends, playoffs start this weekend. When I woke up I played Kevin at chess on facebook while chatting with him and Alison. She really wants me to go to her drunken prom event in a few weeks. She said "we'll get you laid." Not quite sure what she means by that. I assume she means that I'll end up having sex with someone I meet there. But part of me wonders if when she says "we'll get you laid" that that really means "you and I are going to have sex." I mean, she's my ex girlfriend? But whatever. I probably won't end up going. So it's moot. I spent the rest of the night watching the 1981 Eastern Conference Finals and the 1984 Finals on Youtube and looking for a Larry Bird jersey, size M on ebay. Found one, but they only accept paypal and the funds won't be available there for 3-5 days (just made the transfer). It's a home jersey, would rather have the away jersey anyhow. Going to sleep to the movie Conspiracy here in about 15 seconds. It's about the Wansee Conference in 1942. Ask Torgerson about the movie. He used to own it.

oh no

Sid brings home a girl and Cahak goes to the store.
I start to play guitar.
What an affecting situation they can be.

There's rain, there's thunder

Tonight I did fuck all. I drank a lot of vitamin water, put things on repeat. Alkaline Trio will always have a place in my heart. Showers don't take so long anymore. As a result I'm staying up later and sleeping in for a few more snoozes. Mom is a bit under the weather. I keep making plans with my parents to go home for the weekend. But it never ends up panning out. They're going to be taking a bus up to Mystic Lake soon. I'll go up there and hang out at the casino with them. At first I was skeptical, but now that I think about it it sure beats the hell out of Muscatine. I told you all and myself a few posts back that I was going to post more like Ben.


cahak: alkaline trio?

cahak: oh dip

cahak: i am moving to baltimore

me: gross

cahak: have you ever been there?

cahak: p.s. kate knives on the dope board is from yankton

me: ha

me: i shall call her yankton

cahak: me too

me: i want 80% of all my t.v./movie quotes/associations to be deadwood related

cahak: no doubt

cahak: or the wire

Doc Rivers is making some of the most blatant attempts at coach of the year

I fucking love it. Get up by 25 against the Bucks. Take all your starters out. Play the second string for the whole half as they squander the lead, miss crucial free throws down the stretch, and then fucking win in overtime. With Brian Scalabrine on the floor the whole time?? Are you kidding me? The man who will do whatever he can NOT to shoot the ball unless he's in Boston, has been standing at the 3 point line for a minimum 30 seconds until the crowd starts cheering him on so he can hoist a brick over his shoulders - is he really the guy you want in clutch moments?

Fuck it, who gives a shit?

You've clinched a playoff birth, division title, conference title, and home court advantage with 6 games left to go in the season. Single greatest one season turnaround of an NBA team ever.

Let Scalabrine pass up open jumpers he can't hit. Home crowd LOVES him. He's the big, red haired, mascot for the team. I think he's the only white guy, too. And by the way, fuck anyone who thinks the Celtics are a racist organization. Go crucify Isiah Thomas some more. At least he actually deserves it.

But it was such a brilliant move by Rivers. This game doesn't matter as far as standings go. This is like the inverse pre-season for the Celtics. Sort of a post-season pre-season.

Like that house in House of Leaves.

So he rests his starters and then basically dares the bench to lose the game that's just been handed to them. Think if they had lost? Their confidence would be destroyed. And Boston's second string is what's going to carry them through the playoffs. But it's not their talent, it's their confidence. Confidence not a single one of them ever had until this season.

But I mean, they should've fucking won anyhow. Rivers rested KG, Pierce, and Ray Allen for a whole game against the Bobcats and they won.

Whoa, I just grossed myself out on sports.

driven by spite, boredom, and guilt.

Jared has a pink eye. I guess I might have it soon then, as well. I can only think of Knocked Up at this moment. Great movie. Made me realize I shouldn't have been with my girlfriend at the time. She dumped me the next morning. It was surreal, not just infuriating.

I just got back from a covert operation. It wasn't without casualties. Tapes were heisted from Cole's. I rang the doorbell twice and Tara let me in. My stop-on-a-dime charm got me through the door. The musk of my new deodorant got me the tapes.

Just kidding. She just let me in and went back to her room. I hope Cole and Christina don't see me taking the tapes as passive aggressive. It wasn't. By any means. Well, mostly not. But if the same happened to me, I would see it that way. But I gotta get these out. It literally drives me crazy every day they sit on the shelf when they could be out for review. It doesn't do the music or the people who made it any good, either. I don't know if they know my feelings on this. I doubt we're doing this for the same reasons.

It's a slow, slow process trying to get over who you've been your whole life. Expect a few more awkward text messages, a few drunken episodes of me being mopey, random expressions of love and affection, one or two catatonic weekends, and the occasional short fuse. I'll make it up to you.

I yelled at Cahak on the way back from Cole's. Then my car got dinged in the parking lot of Subway. I got the dude's insurance information. I felt like a heel. It's just a small scratch. I bought Cahak's sandwich for him.

it's 6:47 a.m. and I'm just waiting my turn for the shower

Went to bed last night at 8 p.m. Woke up at 4 a.m. I got a very nice text message from Alison around 1:15 a.m. I responded back around 5 a.m. I went down to put the whites through another drying cycle. They were a damp mound on a table. Someone must've taken them out of the dryer last night. No big deal. They should be dry before I leave for work at 7:30 a.m. I got to see Cahak come home from work not too long ago. He had a bag of snacks, pockets full of change, and mentioned that he was going to do that sleep thing. Jared's in the shower, coughing, and I'm just waiting my turn, getting movies ready to put in the mail. We're having a party on April 18th. You should check it out.

I'll make something out of it

I have a voice mail saved from Kevin that I'm a little nervous to listen to. I called him but no answer. Called Kat too. Shawn for good measure also. No answers. Makes sense, it's Saturday afternoon. I'm going to go pay rent and buy a bike! It's time to start over.

That's all

I love noise jams because it's like listening to your friends practice in the basement. They've been going for about a good hour and a half, ran through the set maybe 2, 2 and a half, times and they took a break, passed the bong around, turned on the four track and thought intensely about the potential awkwardness of every possible social situation while just wailing eternally on all the notes they were playing. And only if they were your friends would you enjoy it. Otherwise you'd immediately call it dog shit. To like this kind of music you have to feel like you know these people. Otherwise you're alienated by the intimacy of the whole thing. It's like if your parents were to act out King Lear to you and your new girlfriend, naked and drunk on Mad Dog. You have to feel like you want to know these people after living inside their awful, stupid skin for at least an hour and a half.

the first these arms are snakes e.p. will put your skull on the wall

This is the time of year
for punching in passwords,
verifying advisor i.d.s,
and plain getting down
in the south of our minds -
giving the big OK to everyone
without thinking
twice or at all the next day
or year.

I feel like a thousand buttholes

A car alarm keeps going off outside every 3 minutes. I've been sick for the last couple of days. There's a lot of pressure on my chest and head at the moment. In about 15 minutes I'm downing a quantity of nyquil and climbing into bed with an improving d.v.d. This week and next week I'm working 10 hours days at work. I probably won't be doing a whole lot after work. I paid my taxes tonight. Yeah, paid. WTF. Friends, I miss you.

This was going to be my voicemail to Ben

So you know that scene in Two Towers at the battle for Helms Deep where that one elven dude is dying and it gets all serious and sad and stuff? Well, that would always piss Ben off so much. I remember after the movie came out he railed on and on about it, how it was super insulting because we just freakin met the character and then all the sudden we're supposed to feel a bunch of grief for him when he dies?

I'm watching Two Towers and I think I figured it out. We aren't supposed to be sad because he's an elf and he died when he didn't have to. We're sad because he's white. All the elves are white. All the good guys in the movie are white. There are no non-white actors in these movies. Except for maybe the bad guys. You never know. But it seems the orcs and goblins are the only beings with dark skin in middle earth. Or then the bad guys on giant elephants, wearing turbans.

An evil lives in the East.

Even more ironic it's called Two Towers. Kinda Hardee's, man.

Fuck, I wish I was playing Flux right now. I can't go back to Iowa this weekend.

three twenty-six

• Make Bouncer Fighter tapes
• Call Cole
• Smoke
• Lay out clothes/shine shoes
• Clean cat boxes
• Wash coffee mug
• Sweep
• Blog

42 minutes ahead of schedule

Top of tonight's to do list: Get in bed before 9 p.m.

The rest is a mystery to all of you.

This is the time of year I start to watch Lord of the Rings almost every night. It's the time of year when being outside doesn't feel so loud. This is the time of year when it doesn't hurt to talk to my parents more often.

This is the time of year when the sun likes to hang out more and Rainer Maria Rilke doesn't make as much sense. This is the time of year one of my companions stopped being a kitten. This time of year more than any I wished I played drums.

And I've always wanted to play drums. Same time last year I was making poor decisions.
Around these days each year I tend to think about a Pagan ex girlfriend.
This is the type of weather where I'll sometimes answer unknown phone calls.

Hey Ben, I just watched Fight Club last night.

I think I'm starting to feel what it must feel like to not care so much. I'm not quite there, but I can feel its inklings. Shouldn't jump the gun. Ben could be right about seasonal affective disorder. I've decided to blog more like him from time to time

So night two of the to-do lists is upon us. Each night will include five or six things I want to get done. Not much on tonight's list. Getting up early. Scored some overtime this week.

I am a working stiff. This new Cex tape is barely allowing me to think right now. At least Side A. I love tapes because they have almost nothing to do with my computer. Side B might allow for all sorts of independent thoughts.

And that seems to be where it could be leading us. I need to call Cole and find out what happened with the Daughters of the Sun mini tour. Then there'll be label business to be talked. We really gotta start sending these tapes out for review. Myspace doesn't sell too many. Because I mean, why would anyone take our words for it? Gotta have them reviews, son.

I enjoy the fact that they'll die eventually. Tapes. They have a lifespan. Just like us. Digital is the false fountain of youth. Crisp and new forever, no respite ever from the harsh ears of reality. But not with tapes. You listen to them die. And it's great. Think about what those tapes sounded like to you after you heard them a million times? They still sounded just as good as they were to you. Remember all those tapes you listened to on the bus when you were in middle school? I bet you fuckin' don't. Not really. You only have that idea. Which is always so much better than the real thing. Tapes are just an idea.

Side B is about to give me a fucking heart attack.

I may go back to Iowa this weekend.

see ya later shit

I was kinda down most of the weekend. Last night, for about an hour or so, I talked to Kevin about my addiction to sadness and how I need to learn how to let things slide. I hold onto the past, I'm terrified of not remembering what I just did, so much so that I'm even more terrified of what could happen next. I wake up in the morning and the first thing on my mind, usually, are the dreams I just had. I spend a lot of time thinking about the dreams I had. But I never do anything with any of this stuff. I just get into these long, drawn out, pointless funks. Well, they're not completely pointless. They make the not-funks seem that much brighter. But there's never any happy medium. There's never an equilibrium, never a moment of contentment.

I suppose that's something I've bred into myself. I've never been a huge go-getter, just have kinda done enough to get by. And I know that about myself. I'm sure there's lots of different reasons why. But what's important to notice at the moment is that scares the shit out of me more than anything. So much so that I spend all this time analyzing all the dumb shit about myself I dislike or beating up on myself for not doing more with my time. I worry worry worry worry.

My skin is awful. My bowels move like a fault line. I haven't had a decent sexual experience in 4 years. I couldn't write a moving line of poetry if my life depended on it. I had to close that sentence off with a cliche. In reference to poetry. I don't have fun with my friends. I'm never satisfied with anything I create musically.

It's time to let all that shit go. Seriously. Looking at all those things now in one gross paragraph, it's a lot easier to see how they ALL feed off one another. It's like the wheel of negativity up there. Blah.

I had a good day at work even though it was one of the busiest days since I've been there. I had a good work out. And I've got a to-do list for myself for tonight that I'm almost through. I talked to Kevin online earlier. I told him I'm feeling pretty decent. He didn't seem to believe me. I don't blame him. But I'm not worried about that or much else at the moment. It's ok to be busy. It's ok to not be busy.

There's really no difference.

so what's new?

I haven't posted on this thing in quite a while. I guess things have been kind of crazy and hectic so I haven't really had the time to log my thoughts. I spent a good week or so working on this tape cassette we put out on the label. It's a split between me and Foul Tip. My first release as a solo artist. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. The show itself went quite well too. There weren't a lot of people there (Sunday night) but all the bands that played were excellent and beyond cool. It really seemed like everyone was genuinely interested in what others were doing. And it was a good mix of sounds too. That doesn't happen too often anymore.

Monday I called in sick for the first time. Apparently it was a good day to be gone. Same day as the Bear Stearns crash. Fucking Jim Cramer, the Friday before, telling everyone to stay in Bear Stearns. Though I guess it wouldn't have mattered so much. If you bought it prior to or on Friday you'd still be fucked anyways. Cramer isn't on until after market close. If anything else, maybe he kept you from panicking all weekend long over something you couldn't have done anything about.

The rest of the week went pretty smooth. Went out to eat with Dori, Liz, and Ben at Mysore one night. The waiter there fucking creeps me out something awful. Thankfully they're getting a new staff soon.

Spent a few nights out at bars watching the Celtics' games. One night went out with Jared and Bjorn. The next night went to a bar by myself. They were okay times. Last night went out with Cahak and his friends whom I am acquaintances with. Left early. Tonight I watched T2 and Rushmore and decided to update this thing.

I was just feeling sorry for myself upon reflecting on how I've spent my Saturday night. But I don't have much fun hanging out with people anyhow. And I've got all day Sunday to be busy. Target took a lot out of me earlier.

Billy was wrong

The world is not a vampire.
We do cast a shadow
and it looks like fire
dancing on the moon.

Let's eat with me

each of our us
is a seminal
I can't keep
sliding in or over
just through
and green lakes of friendly
waves for the pens
I just found
and my recovering penmanship!

Country Time Lemonade in a Can

Cahak needs a new job and to see a doctor. I hope Kevin is getting better. It looks like The Tanks are going to be playing at Big V's when they come through on tour. The Celtics can beat The Spurs without Kevin Garnett and Kendrick Perkins. Matt Francis is blogging and quit myspace. Welcome aboard. Don't be so sad, you live in relative close physical proximity to Ben Torgerson. I went to a show last night at a club downtown. V.I.P. room, free drinks. Somehow, I still spent forty dollars. I started out feeling quite anxious and didn't really want to talk to anyone but I felt a lot better after a couple drinks and I even managed to enjoy myself. It's really weird how a beverage can make the day brighter.

clearing the grid

Part of the reason people enjoy being responsible individuals must stem from the fact that being responsible tends to keep one's mind off things that otherwise, if you weren't being responsible, might make you sullen or irritated. Just doing stuff, relatively easy tasks like paying bills on time, doing the dishes, cleaning up, preparing for the next day the night before - all these have tangential benefits almost wholly separate from the pay off given upon completion.

I bought a lot of books last weekend. There's a lot I need to get done. And I don't feel as negative as I did a few weeks ago. I went to the gym twice this week. I plan on going again tomorrow. Walking around downtown after a good workout is quite nice. Lately it's been just cold enough that you don't hurt all over when you're outdoors.

I'm definitely bitter towards the title of Ben's link to my page. I don't find it to be true at all. It's a nice thought. But it's a shadow of a sentiment that was never really that true. Quantity don't beat quality. Usually.

barf

Not quite sure when this negativity corner is going to turn. The secret before in people's failure in communicating with me? Communicating with me.

Howabout a Grant Jackson boycott until I get some therapy?

Get this over with

Last night wasn't that bad. Not as bad as that post previous makes it sound. Honestly, I don't even remember typing it. So it was kind of fun going back and reading it. I really like its title.

Umm, so let's see........ Friday night. Not much going on. Just finished watching the Celtics limp past the Wolves by a point. That was a waste of time. Earlier my mom told me about a guy I know, his brother lost his wife and unborn child in a car accident they were in, he himself, the guy I know - his brother - is in a coma and they're contemplating pulling the plug. There's a child too, a born one, who suffered a broken wrist and a damaged spleen but she'll be o.k. I can't and probably won't imagine. It all sounds just awful and if I had an contact or connection with these people I probably would be devastated. As is it's just depressing. I hope the best for them. God knows they have experienced a taste of the worst.

Have been going over a book of Cahak's poetry. Critiquing it. Something he requested I do maybe four months ago? Who knows if my suggestions will be heeded. Or if they even should be. I haven't written or read a page of poetry in probably four months as well. I'm sure that has something to do with my delay in perusing his. I'm sure my suggestions are not the suggestions he will agree with. I could be wrong.

Earlier I said I would talk about you alls inability to communicate with me properly. Ironically, I'm not quite sure what to say about that anymore.

I put out a few tasteless personal ads on craigslist and deleted my myspace. I've never been more unsure about what I'm trying to accomplish. I got a lot of responses from the craigslist ads and have begun correspondence with a few females and have had one offer for a date this weekend. I won't go.

I found $100 at a pizza joint the other day.

I won a $50 gift certificate for Ticketmaster at work.

I'm nearly 30 years old.

These are the awful

I really didn't leave my desk all night. I drank a six pack of Mickey's. I have a bottle of Seagrams to get me through the weekend. See ya.

SARABANDE and BOURREE (from Suite No. 1 for the lute in E minor) - transcribed by Andres Segovia for classical guitar

Cahak is already giving me shit for not blogging enough in 2008. That's a good roommate right there.

Oh my, there are so many things to tell you all about. So many things to just opine on I wouldn't know where to start.

So this post is like a place holder for espousals to come. Grand thinkings on how we as a species fail so dramatically at communicating with me. I don't know how you folks do it with others. I'm guessing you do it well. They all seem so happy and charmed.

I barely accomplished anything I wanted to get done today. Tomorrow after I:

1. makes tapes
2. write music
3. read books
4. finish doing the dishes

I will get to the dark heart of all your failures. Be ready.

good times

I probably spent at least 15 hours in my car yesterday. Most of that time was spent driving to and from helping a friend. I don't know if I actually accomplished what I set out to achieve. It's difficult to help others when you barely have a grasp on reality yourself. But it's the thought that counts, right? I just hope people know I have good intentions when it comes to friends. You would think that would be a thing that would not have to be said. Because, I mean, what's the point of being friends if there's not good intentions? Sometimes there's extenuating circumstances, history, the past, if you will, that might muddy up that aphorism of intent in friendships.

I'm feeling the full weight of my actions everyday. I always have been, I think I just decided to acknowledge it. Maybe being this far from how it used to be has given me the perspective necessary to realize what life was like before I decided to fuck up.

Whatever has happened in the last 24 hours I'm safe for now from my friends and what they know about me. Tucked safely away in a frigid Minneapolis with my utterly devoted and randomly violent cat, burning dragon's blood, drinking grape soda, and listening some helpful music.

And about that cat. So dependent on me. Refuses to receive attention and affection from almost everyone else. I guess what I've always been looking for in a girl. She greets me at the door everyday and immediately wishes to play. She wakes me up in the morning purring and standing on my head. She sits on my desk and naps as I type. She always wants to be near me. And occasionally if I'm paying too much, not enough, or the wrong kind (?) of attention to her she lashes out with a hiss and a swipe. She also plays too rough and I've got the scars to prove it. I need to re-read Solaris.

I might actually get specific later.