Yellow Silk thing

Going to be moving soon, and I found this in my stuff. I kept a copy of it for years...maybe it's time to let it go, but I thought I'd share it.

Light stuck to your naked bodylike a fresh cut haystack after a rain. You looked just like a desert sunrise and you tastaed just like gumbo and you smelled just like the spray from the breakers at Patrick's Point...

And when I pulled your thighs apart the sky opened and God himself came thundering down wearing a pork pie hat with a press pass stuck ini t, taking a seat at the announcer's desk of some celestial sky box, surrounded on every side by bleachers full of rowdy drunken angels.

"Don't mind Me," He said into the microphone.
-Carson Reed

Bliss In Concrete

I'm listening to The National's Boxer and Pelican's City of Echoes pretty much daily now.

Right now, those two albums make sense to me in ways I can't quite articulate.

I miss my friend a lot. I don't think she misses me, though. I hope, and I think, she's finding her way to something like happiness, and perhaps the only way for her to do that was to cast me off. Certainly, she's better off finding something good in the now, instead of mining time for it.

Still.

Maybe it's time for me to quit mining time myself.

I can never get the fuckin' word verification right on the first shot. I don't know why...

City of Echoes

It is good to have friends.

I was disappointed that I could not get the new Pelican album on 5/22, when it was supposed to come out. But life goes on, right? What else is there to do but go to Spokane, as planned.

A. hears of my plight, and leaves me playing Guitar Hero for five minutes. I'm pretty sure I played 'Unsung' way too many times.

Comes back with a disc: Pelican, City of Echoes.

Oh, I'm buying the record anyway, (in one more week, yay!) but this went a long way to soothe the wounds of what has been a really fucking lame 60 days.

Thank you, man.

So Awesome

I love it when cool people get together to do something.

Deus Ex creator. Hard Boiled director.

I mean, sure, it could be a clusterfuck. But the potential is neat!

Dream 88

So, last night I had a dream I was in a car accident. Going too fast, I hit an old Beetle--it looked like my first girlfriend's car--but I managed to slow down enough that there was an impact, but it wasn't too violent. I was part of a chain accident, on Division St in Spokane, near Northtown...I don't even know if they call it Northtown anymore.

I saw the Chevy Blazer coming up behind me too fast. It's night and headlights are everywhere. I tap my break ferociously to get them to see that something is wrong, and they do, but not soon enough. My car goes crunch, and I see the front end ripple with damage.

But the car behind the Blazer has seen nothing. Hits the chain at speed. My car is mooshed, and I'm now airborn, moving in slow motion, like a car wreck from Burnout. It's frightening, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to end up in a flipped car.


This is the kind of dream that makes me a little wary about driving to Spokane tomorrow...

Misheard

Today I ran for the bus. It was about two blocks away, and I was about one, so I kicked it up a notch and made a sprint for it.

I get on the bus, and the driver looks at my pass, nods, says good morning, and then:
"Nice asshole."

I did my double blink, but kept moving.
Did she say what I thought she said? I've never seen this woman before in my life. Why would she compliment me on my asshole?
I mean. Really. That's the weirdest fucking thing...

I sit down at the back of the bus, and I ponder. Because I couldn't've heard what I heard. That just doesn't make sense.

So I replay the scene in my head.
"Nice ______"
What the fuck was it.
"Nice hustle."

Oh!
This makes me feel much, much better.

Super Awesome

Go. The link will tell all.

edit: thanks to brainforest for that link.

edit 2: linky no worky now. Sorry.

Today is different

No, I don't know why.

I just feel better.

I take it back. I do know why.

I started writing again last night.

Note to self: after you've walked the miles, it's time to do the work.

of course

If one is actually going to do the avoidance therapy, then it helps if one actually fucking avoids.

Goddamnit.

From Free Will Astrology

"I'm a big fan of facing your problems head-on and dealing forthrightly with your pain. But what if that approach isn't always best? Renowned psychologist Richard Lazarus said he wanted to "challenge the view that psychological health demands full realism." He believed that some sick people get healthy faster by refusing to admit how serious their problems are. To those in stressful situations, he recommended that they could reduce their anxiety by describing their predicament in a matter-of-fact way. "Avoiding what is painful, to a great extent, seems to serve a positive function," he concluded. Although I'm not sure this strategy is universally applicable, I do recommend it for you right now, Aries."


I think I'm going to give this a shot for a little while. Fuck confronting those things that hurt.

Weekend

It was a slightly odd weekend. Very few plans worked as intended. This is OK, but it is the kind of thing that can throw a body off.

Sunday was a recovery day. I'm glad April is almost over. I'm goddamn tired of this month.

After playing God of War 2 for a few hours, I let my thumbs rest and just watched TV, because I couldn't be troubled to write at that moment.

So, drearily, I watch Die Another Day. I really have to learn that I have movies I can watch...

The point being twofold here. 1) Samantha Bond is a hot Moneypenny.
2) Halle Berry cannot act. Maybe ever. But certainly, if ever I wanted to see bad acting, this would be the performance I would point to. Holy fuck does she suck as an actress.

Morning Ritual

Taken from Modern Shadows' LJ, and she, of course, got it from someone else (who I've linked to) but! the question put to the audience is: what is your perfect morning ritual?

I'm not a morning person, really, but the wakeup ritual that I enjoy goes thusly:

8-10am, realize I'm gaining consciousness. Enjoy sleeping if the heat is on-the low roar the heater makes in our house has a soothing effect on me. Either way, some kind of lucid dreaming happens.

Lay in bed, stretching. Get up.

Shower. Shave as needed.

Breakfast.

Turn on whatever loud music I feel is good; begin to destroy the universe.

Read at Salon

and you have to learn how to admit failure and walk away from it and not torment yourself. Sometimes the remorse is worse than the offense.

That's something that struck me particularly strong today. In a way, that's my life, right there. I am more than willing to beat the fuck out of myself for something I did wrong, even if there was no wrongdoing, merely failure. As the song says: 'It's a shame when the parts fit, but the machine won't work'.

Sometimes, the goddamn machine won't work. It's not my fault that it won't. But still, I go back and rethink, relive every moment of embarassment or failure, searching for the moment that I blew it, the thing I could've or should've done differently. Sometimes there is something. Sometimes, there's nothing, but I still feel responsible.

Perhaps this is the burden I place on people who I call friend. I will do anything, damn near, for someone who I've called friend. This means something to me; it is a binder, a statement of love that holds up so long as I'm not mistreated-although sometimes long after I am. But my friends know this; they know that I will stand by them, will do things like get on the next flight to wherever they are and help them, should they ask. Will offer succor regardless of my own situation.

I will do things that are potentially risky or stupid or unwise, because they ask. This is cannot be an easy thing to know. And when they see me go off to do something potentially unwise...well, that's got to be a bitch, since someone in love can rarely be told they shouldn't act. Action is what love is all about. (Although I'm thinking more and more that it's about the small actions)

Keillor is talking about politicians, but the lessons of politicians are just as applicable to life anywhere, you know? Maybe that's why I spend so much time thinking about everything I could or might do. I understand that the consequences haunt me, personally, for a long time when things go wrong. And things always, always go wrong, you know? That's life. That's what happens to us.

It's hard for me, though, to admit failure and walk away. There's always that 'if only' key that seems to keep the door locked from being happy. However, we don't live in the alternate Earths. We live in this one. In this one, the failures I have are ones I have to own up to, but maybe I don't have to carry them around all the goddamn time. There really is no reason to inflict suffering on myself, there's plenty to go around, and as Fuz as pointed out to me; love is not about who can suffer more.

Dream #2341

Or something.

Anyway, on Saturday I had a dream I was wandering through New York. I ended up going down an alleyway that turned into a library. As the library narrowed, I came across the naked ghost of Marilyn Monroe, who was passionately lecturing on the loss of civil liberties in this country. She was using a Powerpoint presentation, and it all looked very slick. She kept popping in and out, though, at one point slyly playing a game with me, where she moved objects without being seen.

Eventually, she finished and went into another part of the library. By now, I was in a strange place with lots of pools in it--but still part of the library. Then I looked up, and there were very large clear tubes running along the ceiling, very high up. Klaxons went off, and, I and some other patrons waited while they flooded the room-the room I was in. The pools lit up, and the room flooded, and everything took on a teal tint.

Then white tubes descended upon the clear ones, and the water floated up and the room was drained.

Somehow, turtles are connected to this. Especially sea turtles, and the way they move. And I've now been inspired to build a machine to help...something. My flight for home from NYC is something I'm going to miss.

(I wish I could remember what I was supposed to build that machine for. It was cool in the dream)

Medicine

I can't stop listening to Jesu's Medicine. It's oddly addictive. It's also got a haunting quality that seems all too appropriate for me these past few days.

Some things have gone wrong. Oh, it'll all be ok. The sky will clear, the ship will aright itself. But for now, I just want to cover my head and sigh. I don't want to be at work today. I'm on under three hours of sleep, and a gnawbone of stress, bad news, and general unhappy. I would've called in sick, but I'd committed to doing something at work today.

Fucking responsibilities. What is wrong with me that I can't take a day off when it's obvious that I could use one?

Something quite grave, it would seem. I'm just not quite human today. It would be a good day to be human, and there are a few legos missing from the structure right now.

Fuck. I have work to do. No more bitching.

I got to see Jesu and Isis last night. They were both great, but Jesu had some sound mix issues during their first song...which was 1/5th of the set. Plus, while they did play songs I liked, they didn't play anything I loved (Dead Eyes, Medicine). Isis, however, kicked all kinds of ass. A good show.

the medicine is all we need
to keep us away and hidden
we can only see the sunset
we can never see the sunrise

in our funny little homes
we're really quite alone
we're just a sitting target
for your superiority

sunrise
sunset

the medicine is all we need

Wow

It's my nephew's birthday today.

He's a year old; I'd forgotten today was the day b/c I didn't write it down.

Also: Spokane trip 5/24-28.

Skulking

There are days, of course, when I wish I had a place where I could write and not be known.

It's not that anything is wrong, of course, more like: Where can I go and scream out my lungs so I can reset and come back clear headed?

And then I remember: I have a journal. Yeesh. I think tonight might be a good night for going out into a dark place and writing and clearing my head a bit.

Clearing my head a bit = drinking.

God of War 2

Link will take you to the P-A comic.

Which pretty much nails it. I don't even know how far I am, (not very) and already my thumbs hurt. I have to take a break every 3rd save point, because my hands will ache if I don't. (So it's a good thing I've got FF12 to play in the meantime)

God of War 2 is, shall we understate, hyper-violent. I'm aware on a very basic level that I should not find the act of tearing off an arm to beat someone with it funny. Nor the act of slamming a door onto a head until the enemy dies . Nor the slicing off of griffin wings. Like buttah.

But I do.

Jesu review

From PopMatters.

Quote from the review: "The closing track “Stanlow” is the album’s single most accessible tune; even more than “Silver”, melody dominates over riffs, daring to rival the kind of sweeping stadium ballads that Coldplay excels at (in Chris Martin’s hands, this song would be a smash)."

Let me fix that.

"daring to rival the kind of sweeping stadium ballads that Coldplay excels at (in Chris Martin’s hands, this song would fucking suck donkeyballs pulled from my ass)"

I don't think that much of Coldplay, you might say. But the reviewer gets most of the rest of it right, even if he wants to insist 'Sliver's' best song was Star, when it was actually Dead Eyes.

The time change is kicking my ass, man. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've not been able to quite turn the bodyclock up as easily as I wind my watch. Part of it is; The Earth is not where it usually is when we do the timechange. It's still goddamn dark out when I get up, as opposed to the light showing up. For some reason, sunlight is equated with morning for me. Can't imagine why.

Goddamn Republicans. They're even trying to manipulate spacetime.

Things are pretty good otherwise. Lala's birthday party was last weekend, and holy crap did it rock. Work is work, but I'm gettin' paid, so no complaints. Going to Vegas next week to visit my Dad. So all is good.

The breakdown

Had a dream last night that I was being persued by people who wanted to stone me to death. I was telling them something they didn't want to hear.
It was made even odder by the fact that when I went from place to place (park to playground to hill, for example) I'd pass through these blue dotted lines, like the barriers in Final Fantasy 12, that show the transition from place to place there.

Either way it woke me up and I took a picture.
One bonus of doing the 24 hour film project is: I discovered I had a flickr account.

Who knew?

Currently listening to the new Jesu. It fucking rules. No really. You can hear a streaming version of Conqueror here.

A friend from high school as gotten back in touch with me. It's been cool, if a little strange. She's been through quite a lot...and me? Well. I'm still me, eh?

I guess that's it. Everybody stay tight.