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july 30, 2002 and is it really so, really so strange? secret : i have always wished to front a smiths cover band. i know, it's silly -- but that's exactly why i would love to do it! yeah -- we could start with louder than bombs, move into meat is murder, pull a little strange ways here we come out of the fire, and top it all off with a nice little the queen is dead medley!!! better yet, we could perform a single album, start to finish, at each show!!! i was looking for some direction -- baby, this is it. at least, fun times ahead. each performance would be accompanied by cheap, shoddy booze + hankies. er, anyway. so i've been carefully monitoring my ebb/flow this month to gauge whether or not my moods are erratic as i some times fear. i'm going to do it again this month, as well. it's a bit peculiar to keep track of my wavelengths, but i suppose if anyone's going to do it, it might as well be me. overall, i only seemed to have a couple of lows this month -- a few near the beginning of the month, a couple in the middle, and some near the end. the beginning/end of month blues can be almost completely attributed to biology's wicked sense of humor, so i guess having only a couple of semi-down days this month is pretty damn good, considering this past winter/spring. assisting in this are a few major mindbenders, based mainly in perspective & awareness. i believe i previously discussed my endeavor to do the exact opposite of my sometimes lethargic point of view, which has actually been semi-successful. getting some perspective in regard to my occupation, my goals, and my ability to juggle several at once has been helpful as well. but, finally, it's just the drive to be happy, and to be part of something larger than myself. oh yeah, and the fucking sun is out. could be a factor. . . . one of my favorite albums of all time -- reminds me of when i was 15/16 years old, driving down west kingston road. this evening, it moved residence from a run down tape in my dusty collection to a digitized version, thanks to my good friends at listen.com. i love them. they are my favorites. i would have all of their children if they would only let me -- er, but they'd have to take care of 'em. a particular fave on this album is the title track, umbrella. this creeps me out. a friend stumbled upon it when running a search for stanislaw lem. yeah, i know that this shit goes on all the time, regimes have been famous for just such behavior throughout recorded history -- it just gets under my skin that we're such warmongering motherfuckers. quit it, already! where are they now? i bleed for this?!?!?!?! might just be my favorite online rag of all time -- the tall tales of two incredibly jaded teens, haunting cambridge in the mid-90's. i had initially read this archive about 5 years ago, when a friend sent it to me, and for some reason i just got a bug in my ass about a week ago & was able to sleuth the archive out again. i love them -- but they most certainly hate me. kickass! do you like cute? oh, c'mon. you know you do -- why else are you reading this bullshit? just fucking do it, already oh, a lickle potpourri entry. how spicy. an event i failed to record, due, primarily, to the infamous afflictions most commonly known as "fucking busy" and "cranky-assed p.m.s.-ing bitch," is yet another speakeasy company party (held at e.m.p. this year), which fortunately devolved into a late night sashaying at the lovely gothic/industrial club, the mercury. i had blisters for several days, it was exquisite. i've also been giving some thought to my general relationships, mostly in regard to how i definitely need to take more care with them. |
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july 29, 2002 they were born to set the spirit free -- all i can find is live copies time = space = continuum. i just need to make the break, ya know? what is artistry? what is my sentiment? who am i meant to be & represent? of course, the journey is indicative of the lust/dust injected. it is clear to me that i must begin investing my time in that which is truly important to me -- it feels like this scrapbook reality is just a pale shadow of what i really could be. but i'm stuck in it -- when you come to visit, could you bring a paring knife along? |
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july 16, 2002 simple chord structure {now} {then} {now} {then} {now} {then} |
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july 15, 2002 come rain or come shine
sun shimmying down the window frame. mmmmhhhhmmm. so i was writing recently about a tiny realization. i'm fairly certain you have come across this before, but it's in regard to the idea of faith. throughout all of my hemming/hawing, it has been rather thoroughly implied that i desperately need something to believe in. perhaps it is an emptiness left by a childhood involvement in the mormon religion that leaves me craving for some sense of order, of discipline, of a "yep-this-is-what-it's-all-about-hang-your-coat-up-n-have-a-seat" mythology -- searching for that sense of rightness, of seeming logic, of everything-in-its-right-placeness that i experienced as a young child, shattered (no doubt for the best) on the brink of adolescence. it would be nice to blame this continuous curiosity on some finite influence, but i'm certain my mother would chime in here to the contrary, recounting as evidence of my genetic inquisitiveness the years of "but why's?" and "but who made god's?" rearing their questioning heads long before we stopped attending regular church gatherings. but i digress -- on to this tiny revelation. so, thus far i have been unable to satisfy my sense of logic with any ideology, and have come to the chilling conclusion that the only thing to believe in is myself & those that i love/care about. we all know what a shitty job i do at putting faith & trust in myself, but when i look at the people in my life for whom i truly care & wish to provide with love/support/acceptance, i notice that the list is quite lengthy, and i'm betting this is a good thing. on the bus ride home this evening, i began to count. of course, it's an ever-expanding list, but i do believe i'm upwards of 75 folks in whom i believe -- meaning, i have a (supposed) limitless faith in their talents & abilities to love, create, learn, share, and teach. there's something to be said about removing the sense of self in relation to the actions & needs of another, ultimately providing a certain freedom in acceptance & expression. i think it was medgar evers that made the statement that (this is not a direct quote): it does no good to hate because you're the only one who feels it -- most people won't ever know you hate them, and the rest of them won't care. a similar sentiment could be expressed in regard to hope & trust -- most people won't know how much you essentially believe in their abilities, but perhaps you can become exceptional by merely harboring the confidence. |
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july 8, 2002 dear god, life & kind it is actually tuesday, time stemming itself before bedtime. i feel complete/replete/naked. wearing all of my clothes, of course -- just looking for a little bit of . . . . ultimate description. when love is love, it knocks your socks off. and, again -- do you mind that i feel so? because it must be stated, continuously. |
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july 7, 2002 kamikaze milkshake.
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july 6, 2002 trouble, taking place ebb. flow. i feel so much joy, countered by equal measures of fear -- hope -- tears. always from behind this peculiar filter, functioning as smoke screen, wishing i was more, more, more. actually, no -- not more of this. just different. is it cheating to settle? if you don't like something about yourself, should you continue to rail against it, or should you just embrace/accept it and learn to like it? some folks i know utilize their journal to record events -- time, places, moments. i suppose i've always preferred the usage of mine center around feeling -- all events, themselves, just without the finite. sobriety soon. can't even drink, anymore, without crying. |
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july 6, 2002 invitation
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july 5, 2002 mirage
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july 5, 2002 tutelage
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july 4, 2002 closed or open item of note, perhaps : i am now bespectacled. this has had a most pleasant affect on my sensibility, leading me to think of myself as distinctly more clever & intelligent -- as i told my darling, something like "what was it that kierkegaard said that one time?" offered as an occupied response to late arrival in any conversation. last night was the celebration for lovely sprocket's 26th birthday :
it was splendid! we benefited from the ministrations of plastiq phantom on the dance floor, imbibed until we were wonderfully sloppy, and generally took over the top floor of the baltic room. fun was had by all. spirits have been rising, due, in no small part, to a most welcome shift in perception. could it be that i'm in love? egads! and. . . . it's actually sunny today, which is absolutely abnormal in seattle -- usually we've the clouds to contend with during patriotic firework displays. "oh no, i see, spiderweb is tangled up with me" yestereve, a friend's new boyfriend was explaining to me that although he has a knack for getting into people's head and "explaining their shit to them within the first ten minutes of meeting," i was incredibly closed to him. he had no idea how to read me, and felt that everyone in the room didn't either. it reminded me once of a friend who told me that the only reason i wasn't a "starfucker" was because i was a "star" myself. not that i had celebrity, but that my sensibility seemed to exist in a similar stratosphere. the statement had struck me odd at the time, similar to last night's excursion into "mysterio." okay, i'll give him that i don't open up to just everyone, but that doesn't mean i'm inaccessible or that i don't desire to be known. it could mean that he interpreted my own questioning & curiosity of self as an inability to understand myself, nor my real potential. that's not too far fetched. there are specific individuals with whom i am very open. . . . but, being told by someone i just met that he can't figure me out is actually quite a compliment in my book. |
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july 1, 2002 mooks from exit 12
start text here. the cat is sneezing -- chasing her own tail. little lion. caught a snapshot of a documentary on cheetahs the other day & it's always deliciously bemusing to associate the domesticated feline to their all-business relatives. "don't want to be on top of your list for not being properly kissed" it just seems like my tact, or my timing, or something is never right. it's fucked up. get to the point where i just have to talk myself into embracing this sensibility, this solitary, this coquette-on-the-line. images colliding : noticing your flaws whilst engaging in them. stuttering, or talking over other people. i know it isn't enough to just identify the bad habits. how i struggle with the identification/acceptance of my own worth and ability. fuck, can i just get through this shit? once and for all? i'm sick of seeing myself from the outside, observing this alien woman. occasionally she looks like me, although often i struggle to find any resemblance. attempting to reach out to those around me, laced with the distinct feeling that i'm only a broken record. and i am. and i am. and i am. fuck -- i'm at this point at which i thought i would have figured most of it out. at least a little bit. when i was like six, i figured, just gimme twenty years and i'll have my shit in shape. |
