You can't win

I've been playing a lot of Scrabble lately. A friend of mine is on Facebook, and she's gotten me onto it, so we can play Scrabble.

I hate Scrabble. I like my friend, though. So I go.

I suck at Scrabble. Seriously. Just. Suck. My brain doesn't wrap around these puzzles. It's OK; not ever game is for every person. My head just doesn't get this game.
And of course, I'm playing someone who's good.

Perpetually losing at a game though, means that the game ceases to be entertaining. This is why it's so hard to keep people interested in a game like Magic; the learning curve is really high, and you lose a lot, frequently at random for reasons you don't understand. Even if you have a good teacher, (and while there might be schools for Scrabble, I haven't heard of them. Yes, I know there is a league and people who play seriously.) Magic can be a real bear to learn, because there are just so many decisions to make, and often so many ways to lose, instead of paths to win.

So if you can't win, what do you do?

You change the rules. My youngest sister is actually a genius at this kind of thing; playing Scrabble with her is irreverent and a hell of a lot more entertaining, although it does become a bit easier. But who cares? You get to play. Playing is a lot more fun than losing.

I'm now going to try and play my own game within a game. Winning the outer game is now irrelevant, because I already know it cannot be done. What the point of trying to win that game?

But the inner game. Ah; now this I might be able to win.

For example; I'm now going to have all my words equal a point value of 10. If I cannot devise a word with a 10 point value, I will either pass the turn, or trade in tiles.

Any other suggestions?

Just wanted to let anyone reading who I haven't told: my Dad's OK. He's tired, but he's been released from the hospital, and seems to be in pretty good spirits.

Ticket to immortality

So, with my Dad undergoing triple bypass surgery in T-4 hours, 45 minutes, I'm a little nervous.

Dad's had some real challenges in the past 10 years, and he's weathered them pretty well, but...I think he's lonely, and he's stuck in a job he loves in a city he absolutely hates. He knows he's getting older, too, in that way that people just know things about themselves, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

I don't want him to die. I just don't want him to have to keep suffering, either. I know that sounds a bit fucked up. I know that there are people who endure much more, and go on. But I don't want to see my Dad be sad all the goddamn time, and I don't want him to undergo this shit and just be miserable afterward.

He deserves a break. More than that; some good times, even. I'd like it if this turned things around in a really good way. Even if that good way isn't so awesome for me, if that makes sense.

Bring the pain, yo

I'd say I can't believe it, but I'm too jaded now.

Found out today Dad's going to have bypass surgery. This is not good.

Another stone to throw

I am aware that last night was not a disaster. But it sure fucked with me, personally.
I've been taking swing dance classes because the girlfriend loves to dance, and I'm old enough now that going into a room and doing something that won't kill me isn't so embarrassing and fucked up. I could do this, you know?

But as it turns out, I am not a very good dancer. I mean this from as detached a place as I can get; my body just doesn't like to bend or flex in ways that are helpful to dancing. I can manage it with a certain level of adequacy; I don't step on anyone's toes, I can find the beat-or re-find it, if I lose it (which is often)-and generally keep time.

I'm really not so good at leading, though. When you dance, as the guy you're expected to take charge, to decide what gets done next, etc, etc. I am not so good at these things in a social sense, and dancing is entirely social. Yes, yes, I'm still learning all of this stuff, but I'm generally wracked with various forms of indecision, and in the meantime just keeping a beat. Which is boring-eventually my partner is going to wonder why she hasn't been turned, or something'd, you know?

But, I took the classes. They went pretty well, and I thought I had a handle on some stuff. I haven't been in class for a month, but last night was the first chance we had to go out dancing socially, instead of in a class. I was nervous, but I always am when I go into a new situation. It didn't help that I was a little grouchy beforehand, but I was trying to throw that off before we went in, because what's the fucking point in being grouchy?

Ugh. I just...I felt awful out there. My legs were stiff, I couldn't remember the moves, I actually bumped into the girlfriend during a move-something I'd never done before- and nothing seemed to flow.

Worse, everyone, and I mean this, everyone from the 60+yo man on down, was better than I was. Not just better as in; oh, this person is new but improving, that one has a few years under their belt, wow.

No. Everyone was like: I've been doing this since birth, and I'm insanely good at it. They were fast, they were smooth, they were well versed. Every man, every woman; good at it. I tried to follow some couples, to see if I could pick up on some of the moves, or just learn something, but it was really fast, and a lot more complex than what I'd learned.

I got to watch my girlfriend dance with a couple other people, and she got to actually dance, you know? Not clod around while your lead tries to figure his shit out. She looked like she was having a great time--and I don't begrudge her that at all. In addition to my lack of jealousy about these sorts of things, I'm really glad she got to dance, dance, if you take my meaning.

Didn't help so much on the shame factor, though. All I could think about was how much I sucked at all this, and pretty much sucked at life (I've been having to look for a new job-or at least prepare for one, write resume, look at ads, etc-and so we could cheerfully describe my general mood lately as blackhearted.) And, of course, then when I would go out there to dance again, all these terrible mindfucks are not helping me do any better...

Most awkward? I actually had to ask the girlfriend to dance. I don't mean this in a negative way; we'd take breaks between songs and such, but then she'd look at me like: are you going to ask me to dance? Then I have this panic moment; oh shit. I have to ask her to dance? Can't we just go out there and do it? I didn't come here to just hang out, right?

I avoided asking her to dance, pretty much the whole evening. I mean, we did it-but she would nudge me and I'd be noncommittal about it, and then we'd go.

So the whole thing probably felt to her like she was burdening me with this-which makes us less likely to go out and do it again.

But I don't want that! There's no way I'm ever going to be good at this, but I'd like to at least be decent enough (and not ashamed of my ability) to do this and have it work out OK. She likes to dance; I don't want to be the stick in the mud that keeps her from going and having fun.

When we left, she asked me how I was, because I looked, "really bummed out," which was the truth. But I didn't quite have the wherewithal to explain all this then; I just tried to put a good spin on it and say that things will be better next time. I don't actually feel like that, but they certainly can't feel any worse, because I had a good 40 minutes afterward of doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself and wishing I was dead. Then getting into bed and trying to curl up and dissolve into nothing. Then waking up at 3am and feeling depressed. Then wake up this morning and feel glum.

Now I finally am writing this all down-in public no less, and again, really, after last night's journaling-and it's still depressing. Not as bad as it was 12 hours ago, but not good, either. I don't know. I'm just trying to work it out.

I was wrong.

There's also going into a room full of experts as a beginner to rail on the ol' self esteem.

There is nothing like looking for work to make you feel worthless.

My brain hurts now

There's...there's just nothing to be said there.

Strange visions

Had a dream last night that I was in a cabin on a mountain, during an earthquake. Large red stones tumbled downhill as I too refuge in a doorway, and then thing seemed to slow as an enormous rock slowly moved, end over end, toward the house, with me waiting until the last moment to move out of the way. Possibly closest thing to a nightmare as I get.

Find out this morning that there was an earthquake in Cali. How about that?

I'm not afraid of a panda, I know karate!

That there should've been some last words.

Memory's Garden

There are times when it's not easy to remember that I've got it pretty good. That what I've been asked to let go of this year will not cripple me, and someone else needed it more.

There are times when it's hard to get out of my own head. To remember to do the (art) work because it seems to be the thing that keeps me from splitting my head open on the steering wheel. Blood stays inside. INSIDE.

Damn. I forgot my yogurt today.

What's also difficult to not fucking whine. Because who wants to hear it? I don't really want to put the effort out there to make my shit entertaining or interesting. I just want to be depressed, have a couple beers and a really good hamburger and fries somewhere semi-gloomy. I also want to rewind life to a situation that seemed happy, even if it wasn't entirely.

I thought it was. Then again, what I'm asking for there is self-deceit, and that way lies madness for certain.

I guess that it's good to realize that since happiness comes and goes, enjoy what is there, and don't set up camp in gloomyville.


All that said: I need to start taking some steps. I know, I know.

Kyöpelinvuori

For some reason, I'm glad I learned this today.

City Livin'

Saturday night, I was driving to the store to get meat. I like meat, it's tasty.

Anyway, I'm driving down Division to get to the store, passing by a porn theater. The theater is bland; a forest green everywhere except for the yellow sign with red lettering, telling you it's Oregon's Adult Theater, and then a pair of mirrored doors (think bad '90's highschool van) for accessibility. There are no posters outside, nor anything, really, to give the place personality, and as a result there is a vague sense of creepy about it. (I want to go in and check it out, though.) That Portland still has these anachronistic haunts pleases me to no end. I doubt they will last much longer, but that they're still here in the age of internet and DVD, this makes me smile.

Today, however, I was to get an Icing on the cake moment.

Outside on a white sheet of paper, was printed this announcement:
Bicycle parking indoors.

I love living in this city.

Dead Eyes

You get up some mornings. The clouds in the east look a little like sky turds. The rest of the heavenly expanse is a dull orange, or a flat gray-blue. It's nearing autumn.

The whispers of Dead Eyes start up. Some kind of tape looped backwards, it upswings in a strange tone, as though it's going forward, even though you're hearing it in reverse. The whisper rises, just a bit more, and then Justin Broderick hits his first ka-chung! of a note, except instead of guitar strings, I swear he's playing the cables that hold up the Golden Gate bridge. The sound is HUGE, and he must be swinging a Thor level hammer to get that chime out.

Ka-CHUNNNNNGGGGGG

Then it hits again.
WA-CHUNNNNGGGGG
and the drums beat at the same time the bass is in there somewhere-for all I know, the guitar is the damned bass, but by now either you're in, or you don't get it at all.

The reverse loop rises, and the drummer fills in the spaces between hammerstringing, then you hear it. That faded, e-warbled voice. It's fuzzy, like a bad comb; no truly identifiable words are coming out of that mouth. It's the goodbye at the airport, Spock asking if the ship is out of danger, the breakup after all hope is lost, and you both know it. The words are vapor. The meaning still gets to you.

This is Dead Eyes. The air around you thickens, as though snow and gloom have combined to sludge your progress. The voice is your beacon, but it's not one that is telling you that things are going to be OK. The ground shudders under the weight of all that is doomed.

Hammerstrings fade, finally, the voice says his last. The reverse whisper starts to go quiet, the eye of the storm has approached...

Until a low, electronic, guttural tone is thrown from a machine surely belched from hell, and then Broderick is suddenly smashing the strings like a black door that must be opened, like the violet sun from claws of darkness, there is the rising, and FUCK YES every song should end like this, should have this Unfuckwithability, the countertone to the howling hammerstringing is almost barely noticeable, but it's SO THERE, and with the four pings upward, reaching higher the whole song makes sense. The hammer chords stop, cut as though the tone was killed. Then it fades out, the reverse whispers drifting away, a wraith on the bog.

I wonder why people listen to Coldplay. Ever. Even for a second.

Long week, no lunch break

All my predictions about the week sucking?
Very True.

And I currently want to punch the guy who created the 'Reply All' button in email. FUCK.

frustration

the pain, I feel it.

Suck

For work related reasons, today is going to suck like a black hole.

iTheology

For the last year I've been helping my girlfriend take care of her two darling/devilish children. Today the experience culminated in this thought: The fact that more parents aren't alcoholics proves, to me, the existence of God.

new sound waves

I think DM will dig this.

Awesome, if you're evil

So, I'm playing Bioshock, right? And it's rather wonderful. Really an amazing experience.

And I go to the Gamefaq boards, to see what people are talking about. I haven't gotten stuck yet and needed help, so that's good, but I like to be social about my gaming when I can.

But if you go to the linky...well. I suppose you just have to see it for yourself. I've rarely seen such ignorance buttpummeled so hard.

Wit

Today I take a stab at making the wit beer that I made last year with some fellows. The one that won our competition and was brewed at the Laurelwood Brewery and served at the Horsebrass.

So we shall see!

God Bless Us

Don't not go here.

Thinking

I've been thinking I need to 1) move my web site to a new URL and 2) redesign that bastard.
I wonder if I have enough aesthetic sensibilities to actually be a decent web designer.

Ah well.

#1 is b/c Earthlink broke me with their poor service during the move. I might be stuck with them for another year, but that will be it.

And of course, #2 is b/c it just hasn't been tweaked with in years. I may have to check and see if gentlemanvillain is taken...

All that said; that's why I haven't been doing much updates of my own site.

So here's the Xbox 360 review:

It's loud. Disturbingly so. You notice it during gameplay.

FEAR, the only game I've currently played, is atmospheric, short on story (unfortunately), and has some mild control issues, but plays well overall...and there's the constant fan whirring under it all.

The controller is a bit ooky, with the large trigger buttons and then the smaller trigger buttons. I have found it easy to slip and miss-hit a button on the trigger schemes.

I'm not too worried about the Red Ring of Death in part because I keep the machine in a well ventilated place, in the basement, which is cool (although it may move up for reasons listed later) and I lay the damn machine flat, so the huge venting ports can vent. Plus the fans that could wake Jesus. But either way, there's the RRD warranty at this point, so why get my knickers in a bunch?

I know nothing of the Live situation, as of yet. I'd have to pay another $100 for a Wifi attachment, and why the fuck should I do that? The PS3 comes that way out of the box I'm told, so...

Moreover, I can just move the 360 upstairs and hardwire that fucker up via ethernet cable, and that's currently the plan.

Keep at it MS. You will get the console right someday.

In the meantime, there is Bioshock to play, and that'll do, pig. That'll do.

it's a Foo thing

Thanks to my friend Ryan I was made privy to this Foo Fighters cover of Arcade Fire's Keep the Car Running.

Check out Stereogum for the lowdown.

Best.Gadget.Ever?

The thought I'm trying to work out today.

I will forsake Truth for truth, Love for love, God for the divine, so that I can feel these things in my life, instead of the barriers that keep me from them.


I don't know where I'm going with that, but it feels right, in a way I can't quite explain.

/STILL can't get the verification to happen the firs time. What is wrong with me?

Good with the bad, maybe

So I'm forwarded this YouTube video (thanks moxie!) and it's just amazing.

I scroll down to look at some of the comments, to see if there's some additional information about it.

evaunit511
"soooooooooooo beautiful.......so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes......"
It's a great video, but damn are you gay or what?

Thank you, evaunit511. Thank you for reminding me why humanity must be destroyed.

Cool

That's a hell of a way to make books.

3x and I'm done.

You only need to fuck up once, really, to lose a customer.

The fuckup counter for Earthlink? 3.

Now I'm trying to figure out what the 'contract' is, so I can either a) get out of it, or b) remember to bail on this shit come Aug 2008.

I have my moments

Talking to someone who might have to watch the show Friends.

"Resist, man. Friends is to comedy what a punch in the balls is to your happiness. Except you're bored too.
Seinfeld is the chainsaw to the balls."

72 hours later

Moving is a lot of work. It's always good, though, when you have a bunch of friends show up and kick ass for you.

The kitchen: done. Bathroom: done. Everything else: undone. The basement, Dr Girlfriend insists, needs to be cleaned before we start storing anything down there. Ordinarily, I'd probably not care, but I'm going to be making beer down there, and we plan on setting up a TV watching arena; we should make the space as livable as possible.

By gods I'm tired, though. My thighs ache. My toes hurt. My toes. Fuck me. My forearms have clutched a whole lot of boxes these days. And it's not done. This is the real Grrrr part of things.

However, the lass and I are of same mind here; We get this shit done now, right, and then we won't ever have to do it again. (Again being as long as I can possibly manage that; 5+ years, I hope).

The stereo is up. Thankfully. The phone; works--I still don't need a cell! The internet, however, is not. I really like Earthlink 95% of the time, but for some reason this process has been a clusterfuck from them.

Within a month, though, we hope to have the place suitable for company. Anyone who wants to come; visit. We've got the space.

Crooked Little Vein

Warren Ellis' book came out yesterday. I think I'll head off to Powell's to buy it.

I'm moving in with the lass, and things are starting to get a little more tense. Not in a 'oh god won't you just die!' sort of way. More like: Hey, boyfriend, shut up and listen to me for a bit!

Which, of course, I didn't quite hear, so I'm wondering why we're talking about the same thing for 10 minutes. To me; everything is going to be fine, all we have to do is do it. So I'm trying to exude calm, but at some point I just start thinking this is all funny...which might not have been my best recourse of action. Sometimes, my charm and wit really go over better in person than over the phone.

Something to work on. Which is good; I think the sign of a good life is a few projects you just never get around to completion.

/and my inability to enter the verification letters on the first try continues

In a nutshell, what my problem will be

With the Transformers movie.

"by the director's own admission, a film designed for 9- to 15-year-olds"

Which should be read as:
We can make a total piece of shit that will insult you down to the foundations of your soul, but so long as things blow up we'll take your fucking money, thankyou.

I don't mind that the movie is made for kids.
I just see no reason why it should be shit.

Manhunt 2

Does anybody else think that the whole AO rating of Manhunt 2 is just a big PR stunt?

Because it's all I've been fuckin' reading about for the past 3 days or so, and I just can't help but feel a massive 'ho-hum' about it. It's not like the first game was all that revolutionary. Or even really good. It was Metal Gear Solid with more fucked up kill scenes and a nihilistic plot.

My guess; Rockstar won't miss the publishing date of the game, because they already have a backup available. However, until I read reviews of it that say the game is worth playing, all the hype in the world isn't going to stir me from all those other responsibilities in my life that I have to get busy ignoring.

The Catastrophe and the Cure / So Long Lonesome

There are times, as with everyone I figure, where certain songs are associated with times/people in your life.

Right now, the last two songs of Explosions In The Sky's All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone are anchoring this time.

And by right now, I mean...since March this year.

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.

The Departed and more

So I went and saw The Departed on Saturday (good timing, eh?), and let me just say it: It shouldn't've won best picture.

It was very, very good-I was ready to say it's the best damn gangster movie since Miller's Crossing. And then, without revealing too much, they cut the emotional legs out from under the audience. I think it was done to give it that Scorsese feel, but it really was unnecessary, because of the way things were going anyway. I was left dissatisfied, because the movie fucked with what I wanted from it as a story.

Don't get me wrong: Scorsese is one of the best, and most important directors in cinema. What he's forgotten about movies is more than any 4 people know about them. But The Aviator was a much better movie, and Goodfellas is a classic.

My desire, however, to see Infernal Affairs remains unabated.

I've also started watching The Wire and while some people have said it's the best show on TV (yeesh-the hype, the HYPE) I'm not seeing it yet. I've only watched 3 episodes, though, and it is pretty good.

Sat night dream

The dream was a recast of The Breakfast Club--you can imagine which character I was playing--and what I remember is Ally Sheedy's character smiling at me, but that I wasn't going to get to interview her. She wants to be interviewed, but we're both too shy around all the other people.

Anyway, the whole thing was taking place in a white single-floor house, and I kept going into the back, though the kitchen, into a living room and then a bathroom in the back. Wash my hands, look at the backyard, it just seemed important to keep moving through there. There was this co-worker of mine standing in the living room, and I kept squeezing her butt as I walked by, and she kept laughing at me, so I figured I'm good.

I return to everyone passing around a glass of wine in a church chalice. I drink from it, but the wine spills from my mouth, leaving me parched (I have a cold, and was sleeping with my mouth open). We put a kerchief on the spilt wine and as the red is soaked up, the word 'recline' comes up in black lettering.

And so I go outside, and lay down in the grass outside. Fireworks start to go off in the sky, and I'm thinking: everyone else is missing this but me. Why is that? As the dawn breaks, the fireworks are still going off, but I can tell it's time for me to go back inside.

Floating

There are days when I hate being so far away from people I love.

Today is one of those days.

Everybody take care.

Talk to me

I went to lunch with a co-worker today, and we did our comiseration thing, talking about life the universe and everything.

Next to us at the bar, sat a woman; red, tighly curled hair that fell down just past her shoulders. She's constantly aware of her cell phone, and there's some twinkling in her eyes that isn't from joy. She's chain smoking menthol Camels.

And I ask her if she's alright. She isn't, but thanks for asking.

So the 3 of us have this conversation about relationships. The two women I'm with: in bad relationships. Me: in a pretty good one.

I fully intend on doing what I can to keep it good.

But, here are these two women, who seem to be interesting people, interested in the universe, and they have surrounded themselves with men who, for whatever reason, aren't that good.

And all I can think of now is: please, please, please, don't let me turn into 'that guy' for very long. Please, please, m'lady, talk to me, tell me what's going on, tell me what is on your mind.

If someone has given up talking. The relationship is fucked. If someone has given up sex. The relationship is fucked.

I don't want to be that person, who has just let everything wither, because he is unable to rise up and say something. I worry about this because I look at my life and I worry about that...

I know I won't be happy all the time, but I no quitting. Please. No quitting.

Title goes here

Today, I'm going to try to go the whole day without swearing.

Just to see if I can. I conceed that I might not be able to do this.

Holy shit

I mean.
I mean.
Fuck. I just. Nevermind. The linky says all.

2007

This week's lookback:

Shotgun Messiah-Violent New Breed
Eureka Farm-The View
American Girls-Fairweather Words for Four Letter Friends
Mindset-A Bullet for Cinderella
Replacements-Tim
Richmond Fontaine-Safety
Mudhoney-Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge

So let's hear it for having a cold!
Meh.

You'll have to believe me when I tell you: I'm not looking for things to bitch about. Really. Things aren't bad, to tell the truth. I'm not terribly sick, and so long as I don't rockstar out anytime in the next few days, I should be OK.

Oh, mighty A.Ho, find your password and join me again! I'm just a rather insane person out here without you.