To those of you who read this blog on a regular basis, I have an announcement. I will not be posting in the near future because my computer was assaulted once again by Antivirus Pro spyware. And this time it doubled its efforts and I can't even use the computer for anything anymore. It's so bad, I can't even get into safe mode! That is fucked.
So I type this from Janelle's computer -- thanks, Janelle -- and have no idea when I'll be up and running again. Could be soon, could be a long, long, while.
The timing of this was exquisite. I was in a low state (this occurred Friday night) and there I was trying to download directions to a party, when, presto - change -o ! - my computer shits the bed. And then my phone started acting up again. Beautiful! Sometimes I wonder if there's a cruel design to the universe.
So, that's it for me and maybe for a while and maybe for good. We'll see.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Closing time, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here
A shitty day for the most part. I'm not going to even bother getting into it; some of it runs deep, some of it superficial, and all of it will not be repeated here because I just don't have the energy to go over it. And, also, I've gotten the hint from some close to me that I complain too much, so, even though it's my fucking blog and I can and will write whatever I want, the rest be damned, I find myself becoming self conscious about it.
Life, in slow increments, just keeps getting worse. I hate to say it, and maybe I'll feel differently later, but, despite my wishes otherwise, it just seems that way. It's tough maintaining.
By way of illustrating that, I'll relate a sample of my day, despite my pledge not to. I was on the T headed into Boston and, just as we were headed underground, I started feeling a little anxious. For those of you don't know, I've grappled with anxiety my entire adult life. I've managed it over the last several years, but it's never gone away completely. Anyway, I started feeling anxious. Most of the time, I can think of at least one positive thing in my life to combat it, but today, today there was nothing. I couldn't think of a single aspect of my life that was positive enough to quell the mounting anxiety ( For the record, even at the tail end of this shitty day, I acknowledge that there are indeed positive aspects of my life, and for those, I am thankful. What I'm trying to convey is that they seem to be dwindling). Instead, all the shitty aspects of my life -- and these days they are legion -- came to the fore. Granted, this type of thing happens with anxiety, but usually I've been able to come up with something to oppose it.
The good news is I got over it before it grew into something unstoppable. I hardly get full blown attacks anymore, but there are many close calls.
That's all I've got for you. Maybe some yoga will restore some balance. Provided the room to do it in is free. Otherwise, guess I'll go for a run. Not as therapeutic, but it's something and it'll have to do.
Life, in slow increments, just keeps getting worse. I hate to say it, and maybe I'll feel differently later, but, despite my wishes otherwise, it just seems that way. It's tough maintaining.
By way of illustrating that, I'll relate a sample of my day, despite my pledge not to. I was on the T headed into Boston and, just as we were headed underground, I started feeling a little anxious. For those of you don't know, I've grappled with anxiety my entire adult life. I've managed it over the last several years, but it's never gone away completely. Anyway, I started feeling anxious. Most of the time, I can think of at least one positive thing in my life to combat it, but today, today there was nothing. I couldn't think of a single aspect of my life that was positive enough to quell the mounting anxiety ( For the record, even at the tail end of this shitty day, I acknowledge that there are indeed positive aspects of my life, and for those, I am thankful. What I'm trying to convey is that they seem to be dwindling). Instead, all the shitty aspects of my life -- and these days they are legion -- came to the fore. Granted, this type of thing happens with anxiety, but usually I've been able to come up with something to oppose it.
The good news is I got over it before it grew into something unstoppable. I hardly get full blown attacks anymore, but there are many close calls.
That's all I've got for you. Maybe some yoga will restore some balance. Provided the room to do it in is free. Otherwise, guess I'll go for a run. Not as therapeutic, but it's something and it'll have to do.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The lunatic is in the grass
In the dream I was a passenger in a small plane my father was piloting. It was late in the day and a golden hue had settled over the landscape. We flew low over a lake that seemed more like a river. I was weary at first -- in my dreams, even flying in a commercial airliner is often terrifying -- but I soon found myself enjoying the experience immensely. I trusted my father implicitly and, judging by the way he navigated the plane, he was an expert pilot. He flew close to the water at times and rolled the plane a few times. I felt liberated.
When I woke up, I tried thinking back to the day before for any reference that might have triggered the dream. Oh yeah, I thought, I was reading from the Franklin book about how Gary Caradori, the chief investigator for the Franklin Committee, died under mysterious circumstances. Along with his boy, he had piloted a small plane to Chicago to attend the MLB Allstar game and, more importantly, to gather incriminating photos of some of the major players in the Franklin Case from a witness. On the return flight, his plane exploded mid flight, killing him and his son.
A wonder my dream was so pleasant.
--
The next few days will be busy. I'll be driving all over the place for work, visiting my parents tomorrow night, attending a Halloween party up in NH, a birthday party party for my dad, and other stuff I'm drawing a blank on.
--
Therese buys candy almost every day and puts it out in a bowl for everyone to eat. Lately, she's been rocking the candy corns. Today, she emptied an entire bag into the bowl by accident. "Don't worry, Therese", I said, "it may be overflowing now, but give it an hour and the bowl will be nearly empty."
I wasn't joking. There are some in the office who pig out on candy and, I never say this, but I think they should buy their own candy once in a while, instead of having Therese, who barely eats any, do it all the time. Anyway, the bowl was empty in less than an hour. Therese shook her head in disbelief and whispered to me, "Maureen ate almost all of the candy."
She was right. Maureen, my book buddy, went ape-shit on the candy corns. It was a big bag, too. She made several trips into our room for the sole purpose of grabbing handfuls of candy corns. Damn! If I did that, I would have gotten sick to my stomach. That shit be sweet, son!
--
Tonight: Dexter, music, read, other stuff.
When I woke up, I tried thinking back to the day before for any reference that might have triggered the dream. Oh yeah, I thought, I was reading from the Franklin book about how Gary Caradori, the chief investigator for the Franklin Committee, died under mysterious circumstances. Along with his boy, he had piloted a small plane to Chicago to attend the MLB Allstar game and, more importantly, to gather incriminating photos of some of the major players in the Franklin Case from a witness. On the return flight, his plane exploded mid flight, killing him and his son.
A wonder my dream was so pleasant.
--
The next few days will be busy. I'll be driving all over the place for work, visiting my parents tomorrow night, attending a Halloween party up in NH, a birthday party party for my dad, and other stuff I'm drawing a blank on.
--
Therese buys candy almost every day and puts it out in a bowl for everyone to eat. Lately, she's been rocking the candy corns. Today, she emptied an entire bag into the bowl by accident. "Don't worry, Therese", I said, "it may be overflowing now, but give it an hour and the bowl will be nearly empty."
I wasn't joking. There are some in the office who pig out on candy and, I never say this, but I think they should buy their own candy once in a while, instead of having Therese, who barely eats any, do it all the time. Anyway, the bowl was empty in less than an hour. Therese shook her head in disbelief and whispered to me, "Maureen ate almost all of the candy."
She was right. Maureen, my book buddy, went ape-shit on the candy corns. It was a big bag, too. She made several trips into our room for the sole purpose of grabbing handfuls of candy corns. Damn! If I did that, I would have gotten sick to my stomach. That shit be sweet, son!
--
Tonight: Dexter, music, read, other stuff.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I'm the one, natural one
When I came home from Mara's last night, Janelle had left out for me some paiea she had made for dinner. It was fairly late and I wasn't that hungry, but who can turn down paiea? I opted to eat a small sampling -- a few forkfuls -- and it was worth it, to be sure. Later, as I was getting ready for bed, I wondered if I was going to have some crazy dreams as a result of the paiea. The dish wasn't over the top, but it packed a wallop, at least by my standards, but I didn't have that much, so it was a crap shoot whether my dreams would be affected.
They were. All weekend, I'd read from The Franklin Scandal -- right up until I went to bed last night -- and all night I had terrible dreams about my phone being tapped, strange men in suits, child abuse, and Satanists. I woke up often, but fell back to sleep quickly. I have a distinct memory of Janelle knocking on my door and me lying in bed trying desperately to say "come in" with a parched throat and weak voice. She kept knocking, but I couldn't speak up. I recall the incident as a memory, because I'm still not exactly sure if that happened when I was asleep or awake. Actually, I am sure that it was in fact a dream, but there was at least one point in the day when I wasn't sure.
After all that, the paiea was still worth it.
--
A blur of a day at work. Tonight finds me a little tired. I think I'll watch some Dexter, play some music, read, and then go to sleep. I'm curious what my dreams will be like.
They were. All weekend, I'd read from The Franklin Scandal -- right up until I went to bed last night -- and all night I had terrible dreams about my phone being tapped, strange men in suits, child abuse, and Satanists. I woke up often, but fell back to sleep quickly. I have a distinct memory of Janelle knocking on my door and me lying in bed trying desperately to say "come in" with a parched throat and weak voice. She kept knocking, but I couldn't speak up. I recall the incident as a memory, because I'm still not exactly sure if that happened when I was asleep or awake. Actually, I am sure that it was in fact a dream, but there was at least one point in the day when I wasn't sure.
After all that, the paiea was still worth it.
--
A blur of a day at work. Tonight finds me a little tired. I think I'll watch some Dexter, play some music, read, and then go to sleep. I'm curious what my dreams will be like.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
There's something happening here, what it is aint exactly clear
Last night, a group of us walked over to the Presbyterian church near Tufts to see Audrey Ryan perform. I knew little of her, but a CD release party with beer, wine, and snacks would make it worth it even if she stunk. And, it was in a church! Always cool hearing music in a church.
Once there, we hung out before the performance in a cozy little room where the food and drink was laid out. The room filled up quickly, but it wasn't cramped. There were people of varying age ranges, but most were twenty somethings rocking the indie vibe. I was talking with Lisa and Kenny when I heard Foley, who was sitting to my right, say something in an excited tone about a woman who'd just entered the room. My curiosity piqued, I asked him what all the excitement was about. He leaned over, and in hushed tones said, "That girl in front of you, behind Lisa, is not wearing a bra and her nipples are pointing out through her shirt."
I looked at the woman in question. Based on Foley's excitement,I expected a large breasted temptress in a sexy outfit, or something along those lines, but what I saw was a thin, unassuming, woman in jeans and a blue sweater. She was talking with someone who appeared to be her boyfriend and if her nipples were on display, I couldn't tell. If Foley hadn't pointed her out, I would have thought he was talking about someone else.
"I've got to say something to her", he said.
A small red flag went up in my head. Oh, please don't ask her out in front of her boyfriend, I thought. I felt a pang of embarrassment, but shook it off. Foley is Foley and I've been friends with him for years. He is a true and loyal friend and because he is, we all put up with his outspokenness, however uncomfortable it may be. Still, you've got to do your due diligence and try to talk him out of being outspoken when it will most likely be to his detriment.
"Are you going to hit on her based on her nipples?", I asked incredulously. "You and Jennifer just broke up".
"No, I''m not going to ask her out, I just want to commend her for not wearing a bra."
Now another red flag went up in my head, this one much larger than the first. Oh, this was bad. He must be kidding; as unedited as he can be, he wouldn't go this far. I looked up at the woman -- she was soft spoken and appeared to be a sweet, kind person. For that matter, so did her boyfriend.
"I don't know if you need to commend her on her nipples showing", I said.
Foley grinned. "Yes, I think I do."
"Actually, no you don't. This isn't the type of thing you commend."
"I think it is", he said. "I've got to do this!"
"Please don't", I said weakly, but I knew his mind was made up and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
He leaned forward, extended the arm that held his beer toward the woman and said, " I want to give you a toast."
She obliged, albeit a little cautiously, and clanked her bottle to his.
"I think it's awesome that you're rocking the no bra", he said as I tried to fold in on myself.
"W-what?"
"I think it's great that you're willing to show off your breasts like that, you know, not wearing a bra."
Her expression darkened. "Actually, I am wearing a bra, if you must know."
She said something else, but I couldn't hear it, which was strange, because most of the room had gone silent at that point. I looked up at Kenny and Lisa and they wore the same expression of mute horror that I must have been wearing. I peered over at Travis and Aaron; they too sat with mouths agape, shocked at what they just heard.
Once the dust settled, Foley leaned over to me and asked me if what he did was wrong.
"Yes", I said.
"Did I embarrass her?"
"Yes. And the boyfriend. But, listen, I know you weren't trying to be cruel. You were just following the muse, so to speak. Still..."
He smiled. "Yeah, I embarrassed her. I had to say something, though."
"Let me ask you something. Were you impressed at the no bra because it turned you on or because you saw it as symbol of liberation?"
"Oh, it was all about the liberation. I always love seeing women express themselves."
I believed him, but there was no doubt there was a sexual component to the matter.
" I guess I should have kept my mouth shut", he said, though I could tell he didn't really believe it.
"You've got to pick your spots, my friend."
After the nipple incident, someone came in the room and announced that Audrey was about to perform. We finished our beverages and flocked into the church proper. The lights were dimmed and there were yellow lights strung like vines about the room.
Audrey sounded great. She played electric guitar, accordion, tom and kick drum. With the aid of digital looping, she was able to play multiple parts at once. There were times when she had so much going, you would have thought she was playing with a full band and choir. There was something transcendent about the performance, due in part because of its location, but also because of the nature of the songs themselves. I was very impressed.
After she played, she showed a film about The Loft, a place in Somerville where musicians congregate from all over and play DIY shows. We didn't stay for the whole film. As we were leaving, Aaron remarked how bad he felt for the nipple girl. "Every time I've seen her tonight, she's had her arms crossed."
"No kidding", I said.
"Look, she's doing it now."
There she was, standing a few feet back from the pews, arms crossed tightly, like an Egyptian mummy. "Christ!", I said. "You're right. And in a dark room."
Aaron shook his head." I don't know why he couldn't keep his mouth shut."
On the walk home, Foley and Kenny were carrying trash bags filled with empty cans and bottles across their backs. We were all caught up in the nipple incident to inquire as to why they were doing this, but when we were several blocks away from the church, and the clanking sound of the bottles became too much, Lisa asked them why they were carrying the bags.
"The pastor asked us to", Foley said.
Aaron started cracking up. "He asked you to take the bags with you on your way out. He meant for you to leave them on the curb, not take them home with you!"
"Well, what should we do with them?", Foley asked amidst the laughter.
"Just leave them here on the curb", Lisa said. "The trash pickers will love you for it."
So they did, and we commenced razzing Foley, who took his medicine like a champ and laughed along with us, about the nipple incident.
Good times.
--
It's a lousy day. I have plans with Mara later, and until I see her, I will probably read voraciously from Nick Bryant's The Franklin Scandal, which I had trouble separating myself from yesterday because it was so riveting. In a future post, I plan on elaborating on the book and its topic. This is one of those books everyone who has an ounce of humanity should read. It's terrifying, all this evil afoot, but for it to be conquered it must be faced.
Once there, we hung out before the performance in a cozy little room where the food and drink was laid out. The room filled up quickly, but it wasn't cramped. There were people of varying age ranges, but most were twenty somethings rocking the indie vibe. I was talking with Lisa and Kenny when I heard Foley, who was sitting to my right, say something in an excited tone about a woman who'd just entered the room. My curiosity piqued, I asked him what all the excitement was about. He leaned over, and in hushed tones said, "That girl in front of you, behind Lisa, is not wearing a bra and her nipples are pointing out through her shirt."
I looked at the woman in question. Based on Foley's excitement,I expected a large breasted temptress in a sexy outfit, or something along those lines, but what I saw was a thin, unassuming, woman in jeans and a blue sweater. She was talking with someone who appeared to be her boyfriend and if her nipples were on display, I couldn't tell. If Foley hadn't pointed her out, I would have thought he was talking about someone else.
"I've got to say something to her", he said.
A small red flag went up in my head. Oh, please don't ask her out in front of her boyfriend, I thought. I felt a pang of embarrassment, but shook it off. Foley is Foley and I've been friends with him for years. He is a true and loyal friend and because he is, we all put up with his outspokenness, however uncomfortable it may be. Still, you've got to do your due diligence and try to talk him out of being outspoken when it will most likely be to his detriment.
"Are you going to hit on her based on her nipples?", I asked incredulously. "You and Jennifer just broke up".
"No, I''m not going to ask her out, I just want to commend her for not wearing a bra."
Now another red flag went up in my head, this one much larger than the first. Oh, this was bad. He must be kidding; as unedited as he can be, he wouldn't go this far. I looked up at the woman -- she was soft spoken and appeared to be a sweet, kind person. For that matter, so did her boyfriend.
"I don't know if you need to commend her on her nipples showing", I said.
Foley grinned. "Yes, I think I do."
"Actually, no you don't. This isn't the type of thing you commend."
"I think it is", he said. "I've got to do this!"
"Please don't", I said weakly, but I knew his mind was made up and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
He leaned forward, extended the arm that held his beer toward the woman and said, " I want to give you a toast."
She obliged, albeit a little cautiously, and clanked her bottle to his.
"I think it's awesome that you're rocking the no bra", he said as I tried to fold in on myself.
"W-what?"
"I think it's great that you're willing to show off your breasts like that, you know, not wearing a bra."
Her expression darkened. "Actually, I am wearing a bra, if you must know."
She said something else, but I couldn't hear it, which was strange, because most of the room had gone silent at that point. I looked up at Kenny and Lisa and they wore the same expression of mute horror that I must have been wearing. I peered over at Travis and Aaron; they too sat with mouths agape, shocked at what they just heard.
Once the dust settled, Foley leaned over to me and asked me if what he did was wrong.
"Yes", I said.
"Did I embarrass her?"
"Yes. And the boyfriend. But, listen, I know you weren't trying to be cruel. You were just following the muse, so to speak. Still..."
He smiled. "Yeah, I embarrassed her. I had to say something, though."
"Let me ask you something. Were you impressed at the no bra because it turned you on or because you saw it as symbol of liberation?"
"Oh, it was all about the liberation. I always love seeing women express themselves."
I believed him, but there was no doubt there was a sexual component to the matter.
" I guess I should have kept my mouth shut", he said, though I could tell he didn't really believe it.
"You've got to pick your spots, my friend."
After the nipple incident, someone came in the room and announced that Audrey was about to perform. We finished our beverages and flocked into the church proper. The lights were dimmed and there were yellow lights strung like vines about the room.
Audrey sounded great. She played electric guitar, accordion, tom and kick drum. With the aid of digital looping, she was able to play multiple parts at once. There were times when she had so much going, you would have thought she was playing with a full band and choir. There was something transcendent about the performance, due in part because of its location, but also because of the nature of the songs themselves. I was very impressed.
After she played, she showed a film about The Loft, a place in Somerville where musicians congregate from all over and play DIY shows. We didn't stay for the whole film. As we were leaving, Aaron remarked how bad he felt for the nipple girl. "Every time I've seen her tonight, she's had her arms crossed."
"No kidding", I said.
"Look, she's doing it now."
There she was, standing a few feet back from the pews, arms crossed tightly, like an Egyptian mummy. "Christ!", I said. "You're right. And in a dark room."
Aaron shook his head." I don't know why he couldn't keep his mouth shut."
On the walk home, Foley and Kenny were carrying trash bags filled with empty cans and bottles across their backs. We were all caught up in the nipple incident to inquire as to why they were doing this, but when we were several blocks away from the church, and the clanking sound of the bottles became too much, Lisa asked them why they were carrying the bags.
"The pastor asked us to", Foley said.
Aaron started cracking up. "He asked you to take the bags with you on your way out. He meant for you to leave them on the curb, not take them home with you!"
"Well, what should we do with them?", Foley asked amidst the laughter.
"Just leave them here on the curb", Lisa said. "The trash pickers will love you for it."
So they did, and we commenced razzing Foley, who took his medicine like a champ and laughed along with us, about the nipple incident.
Good times.
--
It's a lousy day. I have plans with Mara later, and until I see her, I will probably read voraciously from Nick Bryant's The Franklin Scandal, which I had trouble separating myself from yesterday because it was so riveting. In a future post, I plan on elaborating on the book and its topic. This is one of those books everyone who has an ounce of humanity should read. It's terrifying, all this evil afoot, but for it to be conquered it must be faced.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Ho Sanna, Hey Sanna, Sanna, Sanna, Ho
Earlier in the week, I called Barnes & Noble in Burlington and special ordered a book (The Franklin Scandal). I went this route, rather than through Amazon, because A) I have a gift card I want to use up and B) I save on shipping this way. This was on Monday. Today, when I got home from work, I saw a package from Barnes & Noble addressed to me on the table.
I was perplexed. Why? Well, first of all, the only information I gave the clerk when I placed the order was my email address. I didn't even give her my name. And how did I pay for it? I didn't give them any method of payment, either. Even if they screwed up and gave me a freebie, how did they get my address? What the fuck was going on?
Maybe, I thought, because of the nature of the book I ordered, the Government was fucking with me somehow. "We're on to you, buddy. Oh, yes, we're on to you, and we're going to screw with your head!" I quickly erased that line of thinking from my head. Nothing good was going to come from it. I opened the package and became even more perplexed. Inside was not the book I ordered, but Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett.
Finally, after staring at the book for a minute or two, I figured it out. Kim had asked me for my address the other day. At the time, I figured she was going to send me an invitation or something similar, but maybe she sent me a book. I checked the receipt to see if I was correct. I was.
Weird, how it played out like that. I never order books through B&N and I also never receive unsolicited books in the mail from my friends. Weird. Anyway, Kim you rock! That was very thoughtful and much appreciated. I can't say when exactly I'll read the book, but rest assured, I will. I've wanted to read books by each author, so this will be a good primer, I'm sure. Thank you so much. Very sweet of you.
--
Last night I had a very fulfilling and educational session of yoga. I made several breakthroughs and, at times, I felt so at one with my body that it freaked me out a little. I'm not even kidding. I can't remember ever feeling that in tune, so naturally, and ironically, this new and different experience provoked a little fear. I've got a long way to go with the practice, but as long as I've been doing it, I've never reached the level I did last night.
Ok, I'm off to work on a new song that I think is pretty.
I was perplexed. Why? Well, first of all, the only information I gave the clerk when I placed the order was my email address. I didn't even give her my name. And how did I pay for it? I didn't give them any method of payment, either. Even if they screwed up and gave me a freebie, how did they get my address? What the fuck was going on?
Maybe, I thought, because of the nature of the book I ordered, the Government was fucking with me somehow. "We're on to you, buddy. Oh, yes, we're on to you, and we're going to screw with your head!" I quickly erased that line of thinking from my head. Nothing good was going to come from it. I opened the package and became even more perplexed. Inside was not the book I ordered, but Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett.
Finally, after staring at the book for a minute or two, I figured it out. Kim had asked me for my address the other day. At the time, I figured she was going to send me an invitation or something similar, but maybe she sent me a book. I checked the receipt to see if I was correct. I was.
Weird, how it played out like that. I never order books through B&N and I also never receive unsolicited books in the mail from my friends. Weird. Anyway, Kim you rock! That was very thoughtful and much appreciated. I can't say when exactly I'll read the book, but rest assured, I will. I've wanted to read books by each author, so this will be a good primer, I'm sure. Thank you so much. Very sweet of you.
--
Last night I had a very fulfilling and educational session of yoga. I made several breakthroughs and, at times, I felt so at one with my body that it freaked me out a little. I'm not even kidding. I can't remember ever feeling that in tune, so naturally, and ironically, this new and different experience provoked a little fear. I've got a long way to go with the practice, but as long as I've been doing it, I've never reached the level I did last night.
Ok, I'm off to work on a new song that I think is pretty.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Uncle Salty told me stories of the lonely
Took care of a couple of financial concerns today, which doesn't take care of it all, but goes a ways to making me feel a little more secure. I need to make more money. I think a part time job, at least in the short term, will be the way to go. When things start looking up in the job market, I will look for another full time one in earnest. Sure, being poor all the time and living paycheck to paycheck is sexy and thrilling--gratifying, even -- but I'd like to see what having money is like. And, you know, if I find I don't like it, I can always go back to being a fucking bum.
I hope to finish up some lyrics tonight. I don't expect I will, but you never know. I wish writing lyrics was as easy as writing music. It would make things so much easier. Now that Luke Warm has decided playing music with me is not up his alley, I'm starting to rethink what I want for accompaniment. So far, the people who have expressed interest have made themselves scarce. Hell, I'm fine playing with myself.... uh, I mean.... oh, forget it.
Watching as much Dexter as I can, trying to catch up to Mara, who just finished Season 2. I'm just about finished with the first. Unless she takes a break, I won't be catching up with her. I'll have fun trying, though. Such a great show!
Observations while listening to the River at work today:
1. The new Green Day song they play all the time has a chorus that steals out-right from All The Young Dudes. This had to have been intentional, obviously. How could it not be? I refuse to believe Billy Joe, or whatever the fuck his name is, had no inkling what he was doing. And, even if he didn't, someone -- one of his band mates, their engineer, or road manager -- would have pointed it out. That got me to thinking. It's considered acceptable, maybe even cool, to rip off a song that's hugely popular, like All The Young Dudes, but if you cop from some mid-level songwriter or struggling band, you're considered a thief and you will be sued. In one instance, you're paying homage, ostensibly, and in the other, you're stealing. I don't care that much either way, but it does make me cringe a little knowing that a ton of people listening to the new Green Day song will love the hook in the chorus and not realize its origins. "Dude, Billy Joe can write a fucking hook!"
2. Speaking of copping from other songs, every time I hear the beginning of U2's I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight, I think I'm in for some Journey. Nope. And, in the first verse, when Bono breaks into falsetto on ...if I don't go crazy tonight, I laugh almost every time. Now, in all fairness, and before Craig breaks my neck, I will say, upon listening to the song on a better system, the falsetto sounds less comical, and, even though at first I thought this was one of the weakest U2 songs I've heard in a while, it's actually quite good. Yeah, some parts are weak, but the difference maker is Bono and some subtle changes that separate it from the usual safe as milk fodder that the River caters to.
While I'm on the subject of U2 and The River, I'd like to flesh out my Duck Soup theory, which applies here. The Duck Soup theory goes like this: The Marx Brothers were amazing comedians on numerous levels, but when you watch a movie like Duck Soup, their masterpiece, you've seen it all before, because it's been raped so much over the last several decades that it's hard to appreciate the innovation, timing, delivery, etc. Same goes for U2, and nowhere else is it as apparent than on a station like The River -- they've been been picked apart so much over the years that when you hear them sounding like themselves, you're like "Damn, U2 is starting to sound like everyone else". Nope, other way around, son. One more thing: I'm listening to their new record as I type this. I'm enjoying it quite a bit, more than I did initially, and am surprised that it sounds good as a long player, meaning it works as a cohesive whole, not just a collection of songs. Didn't expect that. Ok, Craig, as you can see, I redeemed myself. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I will probably still chuckle when Bono does his falsetto on that song.
3. There's something redeeming about The Bare Naked Ladies-- just barely, though, and I don't know exactly what it is-- that prevents me from seeking them out and doing the world a favor and ending their lives in an extremely unpleasant way. The impulse is inevitable because they're so geeked out and corny, but at the same time I bet you could have a pretty cool conversation with them about the Beatles. Fuck it, they should die just because of that "If I Had a Million Dollars" travesty.
4. I've been hearing a song for weeks now that has annoyed me to no end, but until today, I couldn't figure out who it was by. To my surprise, I discovered it was a new Pearl Jam song. There's more than a handful of Pearl Jam songs I haven't liked, but this is the first time I've been annoyed. Does this mean grunge is dead?
Just finished Abraham's An Autumn War last night. Really, really good. I was very impressed. Before I move on to the final novel in the series, I'll try to put a dent in Pillars Of The Earth, which found itself on the back burner, or The Warded Man, which found itself in the same predicament.
Ok, on to Dexter.
I hope to finish up some lyrics tonight. I don't expect I will, but you never know. I wish writing lyrics was as easy as writing music. It would make things so much easier. Now that Luke Warm has decided playing music with me is not up his alley, I'm starting to rethink what I want for accompaniment. So far, the people who have expressed interest have made themselves scarce. Hell, I'm fine playing with myself.... uh, I mean.... oh, forget it.
Watching as much Dexter as I can, trying to catch up to Mara, who just finished Season 2. I'm just about finished with the first. Unless she takes a break, I won't be catching up with her. I'll have fun trying, though. Such a great show!
Observations while listening to the River at work today:
1. The new Green Day song they play all the time has a chorus that steals out-right from All The Young Dudes. This had to have been intentional, obviously. How could it not be? I refuse to believe Billy Joe, or whatever the fuck his name is, had no inkling what he was doing. And, even if he didn't, someone -- one of his band mates, their engineer, or road manager -- would have pointed it out. That got me to thinking. It's considered acceptable, maybe even cool, to rip off a song that's hugely popular, like All The Young Dudes, but if you cop from some mid-level songwriter or struggling band, you're considered a thief and you will be sued. In one instance, you're paying homage, ostensibly, and in the other, you're stealing. I don't care that much either way, but it does make me cringe a little knowing that a ton of people listening to the new Green Day song will love the hook in the chorus and not realize its origins. "Dude, Billy Joe can write a fucking hook!"
2. Speaking of copping from other songs, every time I hear the beginning of U2's I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight, I think I'm in for some Journey. Nope. And, in the first verse, when Bono breaks into falsetto on ...if I don't go crazy tonight, I laugh almost every time. Now, in all fairness, and before Craig breaks my neck, I will say, upon listening to the song on a better system, the falsetto sounds less comical, and, even though at first I thought this was one of the weakest U2 songs I've heard in a while, it's actually quite good. Yeah, some parts are weak, but the difference maker is Bono and some subtle changes that separate it from the usual safe as milk fodder that the River caters to.
While I'm on the subject of U2 and The River, I'd like to flesh out my Duck Soup theory, which applies here. The Duck Soup theory goes like this: The Marx Brothers were amazing comedians on numerous levels, but when you watch a movie like Duck Soup, their masterpiece, you've seen it all before, because it's been raped so much over the last several decades that it's hard to appreciate the innovation, timing, delivery, etc. Same goes for U2, and nowhere else is it as apparent than on a station like The River -- they've been been picked apart so much over the years that when you hear them sounding like themselves, you're like "Damn, U2 is starting to sound like everyone else". Nope, other way around, son. One more thing: I'm listening to their new record as I type this. I'm enjoying it quite a bit, more than I did initially, and am surprised that it sounds good as a long player, meaning it works as a cohesive whole, not just a collection of songs. Didn't expect that. Ok, Craig, as you can see, I redeemed myself. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I will probably still chuckle when Bono does his falsetto on that song.
3. There's something redeeming about The Bare Naked Ladies-- just barely, though, and I don't know exactly what it is-- that prevents me from seeking them out and doing the world a favor and ending their lives in an extremely unpleasant way. The impulse is inevitable because they're so geeked out and corny, but at the same time I bet you could have a pretty cool conversation with them about the Beatles. Fuck it, they should die just because of that "If I Had a Million Dollars" travesty.
4. I've been hearing a song for weeks now that has annoyed me to no end, but until today, I couldn't figure out who it was by. To my surprise, I discovered it was a new Pearl Jam song. There's more than a handful of Pearl Jam songs I haven't liked, but this is the first time I've been annoyed. Does this mean grunge is dead?
Just finished Abraham's An Autumn War last night. Really, really good. I was very impressed. Before I move on to the final novel in the series, I'll try to put a dent in Pillars Of The Earth, which found itself on the back burner, or The Warded Man, which found itself in the same predicament.
Ok, on to Dexter.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
It's been a long, long, long time
Money issues - overdraft fees, bills, etc... Not a good way to end the week. I did, however, put those troubles aside and have done my best to enjoy the weekend, which, so far has been stellar. Hitched a ride with Craig up to Blake and Amanda's party in Nashua last night. Had a great time. Lots of food, drink, conversations by the fire, and a reconciliation between two friends. Probably the closest I'll get to the autumn camping trip I was hoping to go on, but that's ok, this sufficed quite well.
At one point in the evening, Blake and I made a trip into the house to grab some snacks and got to talking. We were soon joined by a few other fellas and hilarity ensued. Man, I barely remember what we were laughing at, but several times Blake had to get us to pipe down so we wouldn't wake his girl, Stella. His efforts were noble, but sadly in vain. Yes, it was a good night.
I've got to get my Netflix account squared away so I can watch some more Dexter. I'm friggin' jonesing for that show.
Which reminds me, I've got to watch the rest of the most recent Office episode.
Today may be a lazy day for me. I have a feeling this week won't be easy -- I hope I'm wrong -- and I want at least one day to be relaxing. We'll see. I started watching Miller's Crossing late last night; maybe I'll finish it up today. I also really want to watch Herzog's Heart of Glass. Maybe Janelle will watch it with me later.
This month has three books coming out that I've been looking forward to. They are as follows:
Ken Schole's Canticle, Robert Jordan's The Gathering Storm, and Bill Simmon's Book of Basketball. And that's not including The Price of Spring, the last book in Daniel Abraham's Long Price Quartet and Nick Bryant's The Franklin Scandal, the long-awaited follow up to John DeCamp's magnificent and terrifying The Franklin Cover Up. I've been waiting for this book to be published for over two years.
Ok, I better get cracking with the day. Yoga? Maybe. Run? Probably not, but who knows. Finish watching The Devil Rides Out? Good chance. NBA 2k9? You bet. At least I'm sure about one thing.
At one point in the evening, Blake and I made a trip into the house to grab some snacks and got to talking. We were soon joined by a few other fellas and hilarity ensued. Man, I barely remember what we were laughing at, but several times Blake had to get us to pipe down so we wouldn't wake his girl, Stella. His efforts were noble, but sadly in vain. Yes, it was a good night.
I've got to get my Netflix account squared away so I can watch some more Dexter. I'm friggin' jonesing for that show.
Which reminds me, I've got to watch the rest of the most recent Office episode.
Today may be a lazy day for me. I have a feeling this week won't be easy -- I hope I'm wrong -- and I want at least one day to be relaxing. We'll see. I started watching Miller's Crossing late last night; maybe I'll finish it up today. I also really want to watch Herzog's Heart of Glass. Maybe Janelle will watch it with me later.
This month has three books coming out that I've been looking forward to. They are as follows:
Ken Schole's Canticle, Robert Jordan's The Gathering Storm, and Bill Simmon's Book of Basketball. And that's not including The Price of Spring, the last book in Daniel Abraham's Long Price Quartet and Nick Bryant's The Franklin Scandal, the long-awaited follow up to John DeCamp's magnificent and terrifying The Franklin Cover Up. I've been waiting for this book to be published for over two years.
Ok, I better get cracking with the day. Yoga? Maybe. Run? Probably not, but who knows. Finish watching The Devil Rides Out? Good chance. NBA 2k9? You bet. At least I'm sure about one thing.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
It's the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends screaming let me out
Not a particularly bad day, but one that won't go down in the books, to be sure. I'm hoping to at least have a decent night. Perhaps there will be that.
I've noticed lately that most of my daily interactions with people are brief and don't get past the business at hand, if there is any, or the level of small talk. There is much about my job I enjoy, shitty pay notwithstanding, but, though everyone is cordial and generally in good spirits, there's not much interaction. The blue collar jobs I've had, most of them, at least, were much more social. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't really talk to people much anymore, whether it's at work or outside of work. I miss the art of conversation and the feeling of kinship.
Just found out a former class mate of mine just passed away. Sad, hearing that. He was a good guy. He passed too soon.
I'm slowly reaching the half way mark of The Brothers Karamazov. So far it's been a good read, though it's taken me some time getting used to the melodramatic behavior of it's characters. Everyday at lunch, I sneak down to the break room that no one but me ever frequents and read about ten or twelve pages before my break is over. At this rate, I suspect, given the girth of the book, I'll finish it around Christmas.
I finished Griffin's 9/11 Contradictions the other day and moved on to his 9/11: Debunking the Debunkers, a book I read from about a year ago and put down for one reason or another. The bookmark fell out at some point, so I decided I'd just start over. It's staggering how much evidence there is pointing to 9/11 being an inside job. Absolutely staggering.
The last book, or to be more precise, the last installment (it's being divided into three parts) of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series is being released this month. I started reading the series when I was fresh out of high school. The first several books were incredible -- aside from George RR Martin, I still haven't read anything in the genre quite as captivating -- but the quality suffered as the series progressed over the years. Sadly, Mr. Jordan passed away before he could finish the last book, the plot of which he had kept in his head from the time he began the series. Days before he died, he told his brother and his wife and editor, Harriet, how the story ended.
Brandon Sanderson, an author I haven't read, but one I've heard good things about, accepted the offer from Harriet to write the last book. Like me, Sanderson was a big fan of the series from early on. Needless to say, he was in a mild state of shock when he was asked to finish the series.
I'm looking forward to reading the first book of three when it comes out, but I'm not as excited as I would have been if the series had kept me hooked all those years. Still, I've stuck with it for well over a decade. Yeah, I guess I am a little excited, now that I think of it.
After work, I did some yoga and went for a run. I'm a little tired. Off to do some reading and what not.
I've noticed lately that most of my daily interactions with people are brief and don't get past the business at hand, if there is any, or the level of small talk. There is much about my job I enjoy, shitty pay notwithstanding, but, though everyone is cordial and generally in good spirits, there's not much interaction. The blue collar jobs I've had, most of them, at least, were much more social. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't really talk to people much anymore, whether it's at work or outside of work. I miss the art of conversation and the feeling of kinship.
Just found out a former class mate of mine just passed away. Sad, hearing that. He was a good guy. He passed too soon.
I'm slowly reaching the half way mark of The Brothers Karamazov. So far it's been a good read, though it's taken me some time getting used to the melodramatic behavior of it's characters. Everyday at lunch, I sneak down to the break room that no one but me ever frequents and read about ten or twelve pages before my break is over. At this rate, I suspect, given the girth of the book, I'll finish it around Christmas.
I finished Griffin's 9/11 Contradictions the other day and moved on to his 9/11: Debunking the Debunkers, a book I read from about a year ago and put down for one reason or another. The bookmark fell out at some point, so I decided I'd just start over. It's staggering how much evidence there is pointing to 9/11 being an inside job. Absolutely staggering.
The last book, or to be more precise, the last installment (it's being divided into three parts) of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series is being released this month. I started reading the series when I was fresh out of high school. The first several books were incredible -- aside from George RR Martin, I still haven't read anything in the genre quite as captivating -- but the quality suffered as the series progressed over the years. Sadly, Mr. Jordan passed away before he could finish the last book, the plot of which he had kept in his head from the time he began the series. Days before he died, he told his brother and his wife and editor, Harriet, how the story ended.
Brandon Sanderson, an author I haven't read, but one I've heard good things about, accepted the offer from Harriet to write the last book. Like me, Sanderson was a big fan of the series from early on. Needless to say, he was in a mild state of shock when he was asked to finish the series.
I'm looking forward to reading the first book of three when it comes out, but I'm not as excited as I would have been if the series had kept me hooked all those years. Still, I've stuck with it for well over a decade. Yeah, I guess I am a little excited, now that I think of it.
After work, I did some yoga and went for a run. I'm a little tired. Off to do some reading and what not.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sister, say a prayer for us, one we learned from nuns and such, I won't believe not a word you speak, just make it sweet to hear
Yoga and a run this morning, both accomplished before breakfast. Yes, occasionally, my pure heart declares itself a warrior. There were stretches during the run when I felt like a single organism, rather than a collection of parts, like I do most of the time. I hope the feeling increases. It should if I keep this up.
Everyone thinks they're a good driver, but obviously that's not true, because there are many, many bad drivers. Me? I think I'm a good driver, which means, if I, say, rate myself as an eight, the reality is that I'm probably a six or seven. Be that as it may, I have a pretty solid driving record and, within the last few years, I've tried to correct my weaknesses, which, as far as I can tell, are as follows: 1. driving too fast 2. lapses in attention 3. aggressive and uncooperative.
I've never perceived these weakness as pervasive, but they've reared their ugly heads enough for me to notice them. So, I've taken measures to become a better, more thoughtful driver, partly out of necessity -- e.g. I can't drive fast because my car won't let me -- and partly because I'm calming down the older I get.
As a result of these changes, I've noticed, even more than ever, how many absolutely shitty drivers are on the road. Not a day goes by when I'm not tailgated on the highway less than five times. This happens no matter which lane I'm in and no matter how fast or slow I'm going. I've slowed down over the years, but I still go with the flow of traffic. Yet, it's as if I've got a giant magnet on my rear bumper that's attracting all these fucks.
I was in the far right, or granny lane, as I like to call it, the other day on 93 . I was going sixty five. I was tailgated several times in the span of minutes, and once by a cement truck! What the fuck? And it's not just me; I've been watching other cars get tailgated. I may have calmed down in some ways, but let me tell you, I don't respond very well to these bullies. I don't tailgate them in kind, mostly because I don't think my car would be able to catch up with them, but I either lift my arm and motion them even closer, which often works to get them to back off because they sense I must be crazy to actually encourage them to basically ram into me, or I blow them kisses. Actually, I only use this method on men, for obvious reasons.
Anyway, there are a lot of shitty drivers out there and I'm amazed I'm not seeing accidents every time I venture out. Maybe now, with the advent of driving while in-text-icated, I will.
Ok, time to get on with the day, which will not find me driving anywhere.
Everyone thinks they're a good driver, but obviously that's not true, because there are many, many bad drivers. Me? I think I'm a good driver, which means, if I, say, rate myself as an eight, the reality is that I'm probably a six or seven. Be that as it may, I have a pretty solid driving record and, within the last few years, I've tried to correct my weaknesses, which, as far as I can tell, are as follows: 1. driving too fast 2. lapses in attention 3. aggressive and uncooperative.
I've never perceived these weakness as pervasive, but they've reared their ugly heads enough for me to notice them. So, I've taken measures to become a better, more thoughtful driver, partly out of necessity -- e.g. I can't drive fast because my car won't let me -- and partly because I'm calming down the older I get.
As a result of these changes, I've noticed, even more than ever, how many absolutely shitty drivers are on the road. Not a day goes by when I'm not tailgated on the highway less than five times. This happens no matter which lane I'm in and no matter how fast or slow I'm going. I've slowed down over the years, but I still go with the flow of traffic. Yet, it's as if I've got a giant magnet on my rear bumper that's attracting all these fucks.
I was in the far right, or granny lane, as I like to call it, the other day on 93 . I was going sixty five. I was tailgated several times in the span of minutes, and once by a cement truck! What the fuck? And it's not just me; I've been watching other cars get tailgated. I may have calmed down in some ways, but let me tell you, I don't respond very well to these bullies. I don't tailgate them in kind, mostly because I don't think my car would be able to catch up with them, but I either lift my arm and motion them even closer, which often works to get them to back off because they sense I must be crazy to actually encourage them to basically ram into me, or I blow them kisses. Actually, I only use this method on men, for obvious reasons.
Anyway, there are a lot of shitty drivers out there and I'm amazed I'm not seeing accidents every time I venture out. Maybe now, with the advent of driving while in-text-icated, I will.
Ok, time to get on with the day, which will not find me driving anywhere.
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