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.