| I'll have to dance on my own... |
[13 Nov 2002|11:14pm] |
Today has been a bit of a nothing day. I've been tired and sort of in a haze as my work week generally starts on a Wednesday. I managed to walk away from my desk and run out of the building around 5pm without telling anyone that I was taking a break just because I needed some fresh air. Too tired of eye strain staring at a monitor all day long dealing with bullshit routing requests and network troubleshooting.
I managed to get an email off to Victor from Plexi Palace about the 70s Orange 4x12 cab w/ original celestion greenbacks. It's currently being lugged across the country by UPS and I needed the tracking number along with the arrival date. I'm not joking when I say 'lugging', as the thing weighs 127 lbs with packaging! I have no fucking idea how I'll be able to move it around. I'll have to sit around the house this monday waiting for it to show up and plead with the delivery guy to help me move it a couple of more feet into my living room.
I bought some records at Orpheus last night on my way back from getting a burrito at Guajillo. I walked out with some decent stuff, got an original pressing of the Balaklava "Swine Before Pearls" LP on ESP-Disk. I also managed to pick up a copy of Creedance Clearwater Revival's "Green River" and an Electric Prunes album for dirt cheap.
My roommate's band opened for Glass Candy, apparently he was really drunk. He vaguely recalls talking to Mark Jenkins who asked them how to spell his name. Either way they got a write up in the style section of yesterday's Post, last paragraph. Something about a neat combination of Depeche Mode and 'Switched On Bach'. I'm not sure where that one came from? Maybe recalling the synth styles of Yazoo while being able to play arpeggios and chords without having to cheat by using the synth's easy features. But a positive review is a positive review.
From everything else I've heard people have been habitually slagging Glass Candy. I can't really say that I'm a huge fan but apparently their fan base pretty much walked out of the show while they were playing. The same people that were ranting about how great they were three months ago are now dissing them. I hate to say it, but if your whole aesthetic is form and fashion over actual content then I have to laugh. You egg on the whole concept of jumping on a trend and then you whine when the wheels fall off the bandwagon and your latest/newest obsession fails to deliver. Go back to reading Cosmo. As they say -- more rock, less talk. We were all having much more fun having a non-bullshit time back when you were too busy shaving lines in your eyebrows and tripping out on Vanilla Ice.
Last but not least, the guy that was going to play bass with me decided that he doesn't really want to travel from Columbia, MD to Arlington, VA each Sunday to practice. I mean I can't really blame him as it kind of sucks to have to commute to anything. I'd oblige him by going out to Columbia but I don't have a car and I'm not lugging amps and guitars on my back out to the nearest metro station. My biggest problem is finding anyone that has any similar tastes or ideas to play music with. I was looking forward to bash about with someone else and see what comes out of it. I guess I'll go back to my basement and turn up my amp to ten along and plow through some more chords.
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| Karren Ablaze! |
[13 Nov 2002|06:37pm] |
I've been thinking a lot about traveling to Yorkshire lately to liberate Karren Ablaze! from her self-appointed sabbatical at the buddhist ashram. Last night I was dubbing a copy of the tape she made with the Wack Cat demos and the Coping Saw compilation tracks and other odds and ends and it only reaffirmed everything that I tried to tell her a few months ago.
The reality is there are few bands that can seemlessly take their influences and build upon them to create something new out of the old; erasing the outline until you can no longer trace the source back to the origin. I can listen to very few bands that actually inspire much of anything lately but Coping Saw continues to baffle me. There's something akin to the same feeling I got putting on "Nevermind the Bollocks" for the first time when I was 11. My jaded ears start hearing something new each time.
Eitherway, I joked about putting together all the compilation, singles and other odds and ends to create a 'complete discography' CD to complement the "Outside, Now" CD. I'm starting to take this seriously. I don't think I'd sell any, but who cares? At least the five people who'd buy it would be grateful.
"I wouldn't even give you my first rolo!" -- Karren Ablaze!
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| In love with guitar stuff... |
[27 Oct 2002|06:45am] |
So I've turned my attention towards buying guitar gear again. I've been looking at buying a nicer amp. I ended up buying a Univox Series B amplifier at a guitar show recently along with the 2x12 speaker cabinet for a whole whopping $200. It's a pretty decent amp for $200, and I think overall it's comparible to other combo amps of the early 70s era for a fuck of a lot less. I'll be parting ways with some old effects and a few guitars. I have a Danelectro reissue that I never play, along with a Univox Hi-Flyer that doesn't stay in tune, and a 70s Rogers series Guild S-100 w/ hardshell case.
I just threw down for a Crowther Hotcake overdrive pedal, which happens to be one of Ken Fischer's favorite pedals. It allegedly doesn't color the tone of your amp and is handmade in New Zealand by Paul Crowther, former drummer for The Split Enz. Kind of odd, but he's working as an audio engineer and made this pedal for the fellow members of The Split Enz. Some requests later and he started manufacturing and selling them. In addition I also bought a new Black Cat Superfuzz which is apparently a complete clone of the original Univox Superfuzz pedal. I'll see how this one holds up.
I'm experiencing one problem with my Univox amp, that is one of the speakers makes a pretty 'gnarly' rattling sound when I crank the volume up on the amp to ten. Originally I was just going to get a 4x12 cabinet and was thinking along the lines of an original Hiwatt 70s cabinet with Fanes or an original 70s Orange with vintage greenbacks. I ended up doing more digging around and thought "Why the fuck not just get an Orange." Orange originally partnered with Matamp for awhile, yielding the Orange/Matamps. I believe they parted ways in '72 and thus the 'Orange' amplifiers as we know them today. The 'graphic' amplifiers are marked by the lack of text on the front panel, only consisting of little images above each of the knobs. These are considered the quintessential Orange amps. In '74 they made revisions to the phase inverter which altered the tone for the worst, these are typically spotted by text used on the control panel to dileneate what the knobs are. Furthermore they made more revisions in '76 and came out with a master volume amp. These are considered the amps with the shittiest circuit revisions yet. Either way there's some simple mods available and apparently you can rewire the phase inverter in the later models back to the original specs vastly improving the tone of those models.
The end result is that the new Oranges are not the same circuit as the original Oranges. I'm not sure about the OR80/120 models a few years back (graphic heads) or the OTR80/120s (new Overdrives). But the newer AD models have nothing to do with the original Orange amplifiers as far as the circuitry.
The other amp I've been looking at is a Laney Supergroup or 60s plexi. This is the exact same amplifier that Tony Iommi used on all the early Sabbath records of yore. The circuits on these are the same as the Marshall era Superleads and plexi amps, except they used the much more powerful Partridge transformers. These are the same transformers that were used in Hiwatts of the same era. Nifty amp, and if you want that vintage Marshall overdrive tone, you can get it for much less than paying the big $$$ for a Marshall of that same era.
Basically what I'm looking for is an amp with a good overdriven tone and then a clean amp. For the latter I've been thinking a silverface Fender Twin Reverb or a Selmer Zodiac amp. The Zodiacs were made by the same Selmer that manufactures trumpets and whatnot that you played back in band in high school. These are akin to a Vox AC30 of that era...for a fuck of a lot less. Not as pretty as the Vox aesthetically.
I'm just terribly tired of people using all the same equipment that everyone else is using, basically Marshall, Mesa Boogie Triple Rectos and Peavy 5150s. If people did their research they could end up affording something akin to a vintage Marshall without the really steep pricetag that vintage Marshalls fetch. I'm more inclined to go for something a bit different with a slightly unique tone. I've just figured out that most master volume amps sound like shit with their preamp gain at low volumes and that if you want that overdriven tube amps sound you basically reach for the volume knob. You can't 'simulate' the sound of an overdriven tube amp turned up to ten pushing a 4x12 cabinet, without actually having a tube amp pushing a 4x12 tube amp with the volume turned upto ten. So all the little new school Limp Bizkit kids can keep being sheep and jumping all over the piece of shit Line 6 modelling amps.
The end result is that I'll be starting another band again, hopefully with better results this time. There's a guy named Josh who I've talked to online a bit that plays bass who lives in Columbia, MD. We're supposed to be meeting up today to hangout, listen to records, and try jamming and see what comes out of the situation. I think if we actually click and don't annoy eachother we can have something going. He also has a guy named Andy that he's been playing with that is a drummer. So it looks like we have a workable band with a guitarist, bass player and drummer.
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Also, it was my sister's birthday on Friday. She recently moved to Phoenix, AZ from Sebastopal, CA in Sonoma County. I had some idea that this would happen as her boyfriend had been looking for a job and had a promising lead from a security firm in the Phoenix area. This was brought up when I was out in California in August visiting, so it comes as no surprise. Due to the fact that I was working late on Friday and had to be back in today, I didn't get the chance to call her on her birthday and wasn't sure if she had moved. I ended up getting my cell phone charged after leaving it off for over a month and checked my messages. There was a message from my aunt who left me a message to let me know about the move and to inform me that my sister did not have long distance yet. I left a message on my sister's answering machine wishing her a happy birthday and noting that I needed her address. I've got her present sitting at home waiting to be shipped, I just need an address.
It's weird, I really dread my birthday. My sister and I were born exactly five years and five days apart so this starts my weird mood swings every year and gets me reminiscing about what I'm not doing in life that I feel I should be doing. It's just really disconcerting. Sometimes I think I'm a bit hard on myself about situations that happened in my past that were too far out of my control.
Basically I realize that I spent two years of my life after high school stuck in a position I hadn't really chosen in as much as it was chosen for me. My grandparents held the purse strings to my college by being named the trustees of the trust fund my mother set up for my sister and I. It's pretty clear to other members of my family that I didn't have a choice, it was basically matter of going to school where they wanted me to go. The two years at college basically came to a head when I had come to the end of my ropes and felt trapped in a situation where I didn't want to be in. The whole thing sort of blew up and I made this decision to basically ditch my grandparents and my father and strike out on my own.
The whole timeframe of my life in between was really confusing, I sort of fell off the face of the planet in the eyes of many of the people around me. I was dealing with a larger lesson of what it meant to be independent and on my own and struggled with it for awhile. Add to that a lingering sense of self-doubt and insecurity that had been instilled in me by my father after living with him for 5 years that I had to dredge through and confront. I still haven't fully recovered from it. My high school life was not a happy time either, basically I ended up in Texas with my father after my mom's death from cancer. My father is not a very 'nice' person, in fact I'd classify him as a complete and total 'douche bag'. To say the least, having someone tell you that you're a worthless piece of shit makes an impression on someone. I'd often vascilate between knowing full well that my father was oftentimes full of shit and the world's biggest hypocrite and then other times I'd be worn down by his words to the point of believing everything he said.
The whole period from moving out on my own to now has been fraut with it's own series of dilemmas and mishaps. I often forgot how much has honestly happened to me in that period of time. Oftentimes I'd feel like I was staring out at a world that was moving at llight speed while I was standing still.
I realize that a lot of the opportunities that were missed that other people take for granted elluded and continue to ellude me for some very simple reasons. First and foremost, I dealt with an environment where I got very little support and large doses of criticism throughout my adolescence. The end result was I was pushed in a direction after graduating high school in which I was very unsure of what I wanted and very insecure when it came to my own abilities. I ended up butting heads with the people that were pushing me in that direction and coming to the rational decision that I needed to basically remove myself from the situation at hand and remove all restraints that were being used to manipulate me. The next 5 years were spent sorting it all out. The fact is I couldn't go off and just swan dive into school, I was too busy trying to pay rent. In the process I stumbled upon a career. The period of life where I spent in 'want' of simple comforts lead me to latching onto a career and being obsessed with the idea of comfot. I took comfort in the concept that I could go out and buy the things I wanted to pursue my interests. However, I'm struggling with the fact that a career leaves little time to pursue those interests. There just aren't enough hours in my day, or days in my week to accomplish all the things I want. I'm stuck in a 'well paying' job, but one that leaves me with meager freetime to go out and do what I want.
And so here I sit at a crossroads. The issue is, how do I go about with all the things I've learned and move forward? It's a pretty 'interesting' dilemma to be sitting here on the cusp of my 26th birthday wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do next...
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[26 Oct 2002|10:37pm] |
So it's kind of odd to have the house you live in have three whole paragraphs dedicated to it in the Weekend section of the Washington Post:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/style/weekend/A10579-2002Oct24.html
My roommate sent me the link and told me to read it. Initially I was a wee disgusted at the fact that it just appeared that some idiot writer in the Style section was writing about 'house concerts' and basically giving credit to the baby boomer generation for some new 'phenomena' but towards the end of the article some truth about the punk origins of 'house shows' is brought into the picture.
The quoted portions by Bob Massey and Chris Richards basically comprise the portion about our house, as they are former residents. Either way, at least it still acknowledged shows still happen. Some people have been fond of claiming 'the end' for shows at the house when someone moves out. No 'dis' to the people quoted, but it's still funny that the article suffers from the typical DC media outlet habit of writing about bands/artists that have some inherent connection as employees of the periodical in which the article has been published. It just seems like a bit of lazy journalism to not go out and search for these things and instead rely on hyping and writing about things within your own backyard. In fact they don't even have to leave their office building. That's pretty classic City Paper/Washington Post entertainment writing for you.
So onto the self-promoting, there will be a show at The Kansas House on November 3rd:
The Flying Luttenbachers
Et At It (members of Metamatics, Orthrelm, & Meltdown)
Time of Orchids (from NY)
Stars of the Dogon (from Baltimore)
The show starts at 6pm, and the admission is a $5 donation which will be split amongst touring bands. And for the few people not familiar with the location of my house it's at 900 N. Kansas St. in Arlington.
In further news:
My office building has been terrorized by the deeds of the mysterious villans known as Mr. Pees On Seat and Mr. Ass Paper. Earlier in the year the Mr Pees On The Seat made his appearance, striking repeatedly in the 6th floor men's room of my office building. The end result is that someone posted signs in the stalls full of sarcastic invective aimed at Mr. Pees On Seat's manhood. This appeared to have foiled further evildoing by Mr. Pees On Seat for a period of time but he has resurfaced yet again. This time he has brought along with him his sidekick, Mr. Ass Paper.
Someone had asked why Mr. Pees on Seat doesn't use the urinal, however the bathrooms in our building are not equiped with such devices. Basically each floor has a bathroom containing two stalls with normal North American style toilets that any five year old that has been potty trained should understand how to operate. One of the bathrooms is for the ladies, the other is for the 12 year olds in business suits with down syndrome.
In response I have created a sign to post in the stalls that reads:
"Dear Mr. Pees On Seat -- No one here is impressed with your 'aim'. Lift the seat.
Dear Mr. Ass Paper -- Our hands are offended by touching your paper seat guards, even moreso than your posterior is by touching the bare seat. Please dispose of them properly once finished.
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| *YAWN* electroclash/electrowave, et. al *YAWN* |
[01 Aug 2002|05:13pm] |
Last night I treked out to Heaven and Hell in my old neighborhood to go to the opening night of Sleaze, the premier of "electroclash" in DC as I was kind of curious as to who would show up and what their take on the whole so-called new genre would be. Either way, the music was alright considering the tendencies to merge 80s electro with synth/new wave/proto-industrial tendencies which is okay with me. Actually the best tunes that were played were probably originals from the early 80s era such as DAF's "Der Mussolini" and a remix of a Peaches track at the end of the night after most people had long stopped dancing.
What bothered me is the fact that 'electroclash' as a genre seems to be an overtly forced concept that people involved behind the scenes seem to be trying to blatantly market it to a larger audience as quickly as possible. Maybe I'm being a bit romantic in my view of things like punk rock, house, disco, etc. It just seems inherently sleazy in some sense and lacking any soul of any real movement or genre with the focus on becoming as big as quickly as possible. I guess some people feel that making a small fortune is at stake in trying to pawn off a new 'concept' that's simply rehashing retro tendencies on unsuspecting souls as a new underground phenomena. There's just something inherently forced in the delivery that makes me weary, I never got the vibe of anything really mind altering, I could have just as much been at the 80s retro night that happens regularly at the same venue. Half the people that were there probably frequent that event with their bad faux 80s new wave knock off outfits bought off the racks at such 'cutting edge' stores as Commander Salamander and Hot Topic. Everyone just looked like they walked out of a drag queen's faggoty Halloween concept for a punk rock or new wave costume.
They also had a piece of butcher paper on the wall with a black felt-tip marker taped to it with the invitation to 'add your own graffiti'. That just reminded me of a really bad Student Union coffee house nights at my college. I think people should've taken the invitation further by bringing their own cans of Krylon and spray painting their own slogans on the actual walls. I added my own 'Your 80s New Wave posturing fashion eats shit!' along with a few Situationist slogans such as "They Are Buying Your Happiness, Steal It!"
I ended up laughing my ass off after I prompted Jason and Angela to start doing the 80s aerobics bicycle move and they kept going with their own aerobics excercises
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| MOC residue |
[19 Apr 2002|12:04pm] |
dashboardracer20: go rape a duck ok?
xlaikax: oh look it's the latest MENSA applicant!
dashboardracer20: lol
xlaikax: next time your mother gets back from whoring ask her to save some of her douche to wash your mouth out
dashboardracer20: you are so gross
dashboardracer20: and mean
Man I forgot to delete that stupid MOC entry! I think I'm going to do that right away.
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| Insomnia... |
[19 Apr 2002|07:55am] |
Welp, I didn't sleep a bit last night. I'm not exactly sure why but I just couldn't. So I'll go work another 12 hour day without sleep and see how long I last before I have a nervous breakdown.
I've made a decision to eradicate certain types of entries, mainly the cliche music stuff. As much as I like music and enjoy listening to it, the only time people really respond is to talk about music. Unfortunately I'd much rather discuss other things at this point. True as it may be that my journal is mainly self indulgent, full of inside jokes that only I find funny or relevent, and basic navel gazing.
So another month until I move, which will be sort of life altering and will change a lot of things about the way I live. Primarily, I'm going to be forced out of my solitary lifestyle. I haven't really had to deal with sharing my personal space with anyone in years. I kind of enjoyed it for awhile because I had gone through enough bad living arrangements where everyone is at eachothers' throats that I just wanted to be left alone so I was overjoyed when I finally got my own fucking apartment. Now I'm giving that up.
Outside of that I'm pretty sick of people overall. Especially the pseudo intellectual types who have to make a point out of how 'intelligent' they are. These are the type of people that read books and make a point of letting you know they've read those books, regurgitate facts and lift whole paragraphs from Sartre at the drop of a hat to liven up conversation. They're the types that always try to impress by making a huge point of starting 'deep' conversations and debates making an issue out of trying to make others 'think'. The problem is most of these attributes -- their lofty notions, their intellectual critiques are rarely at all their own. Basically I'm not impressed with people who merely appropriate things for the sake of looking clever or crafty.
I remember times when I'd enjoy trying to engage in philisophical conversations while drunk, in which I'd want to turn the world on it's head and twist in inside out for the want of coming to some significant conclusion. But overall, just talking about and making a point out of your intellect serves no other point but to draw attention to oneself and look for some type of acknowledgement of your own deft intellect. It's basically the equivalent of jerking off your ego and mentally engaging in the process of staring up your own asshole -- all theory, no practice.
I guess it comes with time and experience, but in the end I've become much more pragmatic on an interpersonal level. It doesn't mean that I don't consider other opinions, that I'm 'stuck in my ways', that I see things dogmatically from the point of view of having a line drawn in the sand. Quite the contrary, I quite enjoy the process of obtaining knowledge. It's just that I feel that it's much more of a solitary issue and as long as I'm getting something out of it or some pleasure or feel that I'm somehow being challenged then that's great. I don't have to make a point out of it at every chance I get.
Ask me for an opinion, you'll get a definitive answer. If you don't like my definitive answer, then stop trying to egg me in some pitiful mental dexterity games. If you're looking into getting into some drawn out pissing contest of making me see 'some light', please go hangout with some college freshman whom you might impress with your vast 'knowledge' and 'insight'.
This goes for the same people that feel like they have to be the center of attention when they walk into the room. If anything it clearly shows that you have major issues with insecurity and you need 'attention' to rub your poor little ego so you can feel important. Basically, when do you get to the point where you evolve past acting adolescent
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| Russia 1917... |
[19 Apr 2002|05:30am] |
Sometimes I sit back and contemplate odd, highly improbable scenarios. Like today, I was playing a game of 'what if' concerning the idea of being a revolutionary leader at the brink of establishing authoritative rule over a country. Usually the first order on the agenda is to rid all opposition and exterminate all 'undesirables'. The question is who would be on my list of people to be lined against a wall and eradicated via firing squad?
Anyone have any guesses? You might win a toaster oven!
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| Another day, another alibi.. |
[18 Apr 2002|11:59am] |
So today I'm back at work after having Wednesday off. I didn't get much accomplished yesterday except getting new guitar strings for my acoustic guitar. My fingers are fucked up and sore from having to stretch strings, etc. I still have to break them in.
I'm still suffering from allergies, it's a little bit less intense than it was but still enough to be bothersome and annoying. I keep taking Tavist, which isn't a 'non-drowsy' antihistimine but I'm not exactly passing out so that's good. I think I need to check into getting some Allegra as most people I know who take it say good things about it.
I ended up watching "Pink Flamingos" with Jason on Monday as he had never seen it. It was funny because his roommates would walk in on the worst scene and immediately leave the room. One roommate purposefully avoided eating dinner in the living room and sat outside on the porch. I kept on laughing because I thought it was rather funny but Jason was all paranoid about offending his roommates. I was like "it's okay because two of them are moving out in a month." It's funny that "Pink Flamingos" still manages to ellicit disgust and manages to offend people 30 years later. But then again that was John Waters' point.
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| tongue planted firmly in (ass) cheek... |
[16 Apr 2002|01:16pm] |
I'd like to see kids with down syndrome represent full on all over the place, like my pals Corky and Sam Dawson -- they were rocking the Erase Errata last nite, and the Special Olympics the week before, and they'll be rocking their band this weekend.
"Discuss!"
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| My head is about to explode... |
[16 Apr 2002|12:47pm] |
Or rather it feels that way, as I'm currently being assaulted by allergies. My sinus cavity is completely filled, my eyes are watering, my throat is scratchy which goes very well with 91 degree weather doesn't it? Either way I'm pretty much loaded up on Tylenol sinus & allergy medication. I feel like I'm staring at my screen from 20 feet away at the bottom of a swimming pool.
I ended up working another 60+ hour week last week, which I didn't want to do. I got a call from my coworker on Friday evening after he had left early at 6pm. He asked if I could come in the next day and cover for 6 hours as he had to go to his insurance agency, get a rental car, and then have his car towed. I understood his situatin but at the same time I'm currently working 4 x 12 hour shifts a week and coming in with 8 hours of overtime each week already. I kind of went off that I understood his situation and that he needed someone to cover for him as he had extraneous circumstances but at the same time I was venting because it's ridiculous that with the current workload that someone has to come in on an off day to cover for holes like this. I wasn't exactly happy about the prospect of waking up at 10am, working until 4pm and then having half my Saturday gone. I told him I'd do it but I was going to have a discussion with our director about not coming in Monday off . I did have that discussion and just said, "Look, I understand Patrick needs to be out, BUT I'm going to be hitting 54 hours worked this week and giving up half my day off which I really need because working 12 hour shifts is draining. If I don't have time away from work it's going to be detrimental to me and my ability to get any work done when I'm here. So don't expect me in on Monday."
In the end I ended up working for 12 hours anyway and just traded Patrick Monday off.
I hungout with Jason this weekend. We ended up sitting on his roof on Sunday evening, enjoying the cool evening breeze after the sweltering heat that day. As we were sitting on the roof Jason points over to the field next to his house and says, "look!" I turned and there was a car pulling away from the used car dealership two doors down hauling ass through the field, the tacky American 'window' flag flapping away. They pulled out into the street, then all of a sudden backed up quickly and stopped.
Jason said, "What the hell are they doing?"
Someone got rolled down the window and pulled the flag off the car so it would be less conspicous. We found the whole incident rather amusing and didn't even bother with calling the police.
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| violent sexual fantasies... |
[13 Apr 2002|03:55am] |
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I kind of like to keep my sex and my violence seperated, like when I punch people in the face it's usually not because they arrouse me in any sexual sense. It's usually a pretty clear indication that I find them repugnant...
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| Refrigerators say a lot about a person... |
[12 Apr 2002|05:21pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 exhausted |
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Generally the phenomena of the refrigerator not only serves its intended purpose of preserving foodstuffs, but provides an outlet for communication and organization in a household. It can also be a clean slate which we can adorn with various mementos, drawings, photographs, newspaper clipings, etc. In my case:
-- two photos of the Ex from a show at the Black Cat
-- two postcards from the Cynthia Connoly "Punks With Cars" series
-- One postcard of a 60s era picture of the intersection of Haight & Ashbury
-- One postcard of the Empire State Building
-- A picture of Latetia Sadier of Stereolab from a show at the 9:30 Club
-- a Lungfish setlist
-- One ticket stub from the X reunion show at the 9:30 club, autographed by John Doe himself
-- One guitar pick that was handed to me by Pete Shelley from the stage at a Buzzcocks show
-- One Leeds postcard sent by Jason in December
-- 3 Peoples' Drug magnets
-- 1 Bell Atlantic magnet
-- One magnet for a Dentist
-- One California magnet with the name 'Greg' on it. I got this from my friend Greg before he moved to San Diego
-- One picture of my friend Jeremiah (frontwards) taken by Shannon (xcommunicate)
-- One picture of Shannon and Jeremiah
-- One bendable magnet figure that I received at a Cisco Powered Networks forum, currently scaling the side of my refrigerator
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| Today |
[12 Apr 2002|03:20pm] |
Is a bit overcast and cool, reminding me of January in coastal Southern California, which reminds me of my childhood in Oxnard, CA. With that I have this weird desire to listen to "Nevermind the Bollocks" just because it's ingrained with my last couple of years in CA and was my favorite album when I was in the 6th grade. I used to sit on the playground at Sierra Linda Elementary with my Sony walkman listening to the first Clash album and The Sex Pistols.
I remember spending a day on my spring break in 7th grade walking around Hollywood and Silver Strand Beaches and having them to myself, climbing up and out onto the jettyI remember riding my BMX from my house on the northside of Oxnard into the outer edges of Ventura and digging through the records and casettes at Salzer's Records in Ventura and playing games at the Golf n' Stuff arcade.
Either way it's all about sweater weather...
In addendum: My coworker just said, "I just wanted to inform you that your sweater is the ugliest I've ever seen." My response, "Like I really give a fuck what a farty little man with a mullet thinks."
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| strangeways, here we come... |
[12 Apr 2002|12:24am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 complacent |
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Tuesday evening I got out of work around 10pm or so and decided to make the trek home on foot as I didn't have to work the next day and wanted to unwind after another 12 hour work day. Either way between work in Georgetown and home in Adams Morgan I have to cross through Dupont by hook or by crook.
I was making my way up 21st St. in the rain when this car pulls upto the curb and I hear this grunt noise, so I look over and this individual had rolled down his window and motioned me over to his car holding up a pad of paper. So the thought running through my mind was, "Ah someone with a pad of paper with an address on it wanting directions!" So feeling actually kind this evening instead of yelling something like, "look buy a fucking map or go home!" I walked over to the car. This guy who was probably in his 20s, wearing some type of athletic windbreaker points to a sentence on the pad:
"Do you speak English?"
I nod and respond with, "yes."
He points to the next couple of sentences:
"Would you like to go with me for a couple of hours. We'll have fun."
I look at him and shake my head and say, "No!" and I walk away.
I'm not sure if he was deaf or some Eastern European tourist with enough bankroll for a rental car. I'm wondering what guide he was reading that they distribute to deviant slavik types giving phrases in english in order to get your dick sucked. Later on I thought that I should've written "Come back to the US when you look like you can star in a Bel Ami porn" on the pad of paper and left it upto him to diligently translate it at a later date and time.
Last night I ate a buritto with black beans, today I'm excreting little green men from my rectum. I'm shittin' leprachauns! Alas, the wonders of fiber in your diet!
Another night to retire and work on a mix tape...
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[08 Apr 2002|11:04am] |
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So, I went back and looked at my old posts and the only thing I can say is please, jesus christ, fucking put a bullet in my head for even taking that much time and effort to write out emotions about such a complete and total wheezing shit bag. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself.
Either way in good news, my sister had a shotgun wedding in Reno. So I'm officially 'Uncle Gavin'. I'll pat myself on the back and smoke a cigar later today.
I went to Luna Grill with Jason on Saturday and these two toddlers were making me laugh by being enormous pains in their parent's asses. One of them came over to our table and was trying to look at the top. He then later commenced climbing up on a chair and trying to climb up over the side of a booth when his parents were distracted by his brother and then tried to take someone's umbrella off the coat hook. I was laughing in hysterics. They were like a team working to cause their parents endless frustration.
My friend Jen gets props for sending out '91 era pictures of herself, which brought back memories involving sitting in health class doodling a picture of her with giant X's over her eyes, collapsed against a wall featuring a prominately placed Midol bottle in the foreground. The whole thing was underscored by a caption which read, "Midol...around Jen an open bottle is an empty bottle." I think I did this because she was digging her finger nails into my arm while muttering "CRAMPS!" at me under her breathe. That shit fucking hurt.
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georgemiles's journal
