| XX | March 29, 2006, 5:46 pm |
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Final birthday drink list (as best as I can figgure) 1 shot J&B scotch (4:30 pm) 8+ bottles of Guinness 1 bottle of Corona orange juice + vodka 1 vodka martini 1 shot 60% czech absinthe 1 Manhattan cocktail (2 am) + 1 1/2 joints 2 Colt rum & wine cigars |
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| What My Guitar Amplifier Picked Up Tonight | February 5, 2006, 12:12 am |
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Very intermittant, modulated sounds, so I could only make out one sentence at a time, and when typing I missed the whole conversation. Sounds like someone talking over a walkie talkie to me, possibly a city worker, but I found it realy interesting and creepy, especially out of context. More to be posted if this goes on through the night. "where was it that you said that you heard it?" "oh" "south down 40 metres" and uh looks pretty interesting pretty interesting but uh video in there, with the brick i wont say it's the only one, but at this particular point... the majority of them are bright green realy interesting peice of ??? over uh, just a minute, x-ray 24, over his whole face the ivory coast, there m-o-i-r-o-n, moiron end of the road video of us in the beaver brook, over absolutly guerenteed every year they've recorded over 40 mph wind in that location over *laughter* and uh it's a green ??? and there's a different name for it some people ... over i can still... *more laughter* |
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| What do you do for money, honey? | January 15, 2006, 3:57 am |
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It's almost 3 am, and I can't sleep. My #1 man and his roommate have forsaken me in favour of a girl who inexplicably doesn't like me, despite all her roommates objections. Fuck You, Charlene, I don't need you! And Amanda, you owe me $20! The neck on my strat is cracking again, this will be the 3rd time i've had to have it repaired. I'd best take off the strings so the tension doesn't snap it in two. I made a chicken stir fry from scratch tonight for dinner. Rice, grilled chicken, sweet & sour sauce, with fried red bell pepper, onions, and garlic. I cook dinner alot, but when I invite her over for dinner, she always declines. Dating a narcoleptic is hard, and i'm feeling alot of apathy between us. My latest audio project is "627", named after an old address where I grew up. There's a slide guitar part i'm hoping to add tomorrow, which should close it up nicely. |
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| the long wait. | December 17, 2005, 8:35 pm |
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17 days. She's in Fort McMurray for the holidays, and I'm missing her already. I miss the way she offers me a cigarette every time I see her. I miss the way we talk about the strangest things, like her russian family, her saxophone, or dimentions for a TV Flat made of 1x3 with a door and 2 windows. I miss the way she agrees with me by saying "exactly" in a happy half-sigh, and I miss staring into her deep brown eyes for as long as I can. But I don't know if she misses me or not. Does she think I'm a stalking creep? An immature jerk who wants to get her in the sack (not yet)? A leech of her smokes? An autistic dumbass who talks about his stupid music and his irrelevant problems? I'm realy not any of those things, but I worry alot about objective perceptions of myself due to past relationships. It's easy to tell people to "be themselves" as advice, but when what you are isn't exactly secure or attractive, you worry. Everything was wrong the last time I saw her. I should've walked her home, I should've had some mistletoe or something. I should've bought her dinner. She's so nice to me now, but I don't know if it's caring, or pity, or or just her being herself. Do you miss me, too? just say you miss me that's all I need to hear |
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| She's got me spending | December 6, 2005, 11:41 pm |
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spending all my money on her, and spending time on her. We're going to see Narnia this weekend. I hope it's as good as the books were when I was a kid. spoiler: aslan dies. Also, I got this great new hat that makes me look half decent. An early christmas present, it's a Hackett tweed flat cap. |
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| Plotting & Scheming | November 17, 2005, 5:34 am |
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I am an easy going guy. A neo-hippie with a shaved head, 1 week of growth. A chin beard, a regular supply of pot, vinyl records and a working turntable, Musical instruments without any knowlage of notation. I am slack; I pull my own weight, let people make their own independent decisions, do basic chores, wash my dishes when I damn well feel like it. I have altered me degree of perception to the level that I can comprehend the world around me, and manipulate it to my own bidding. I am the exploiter, the sloth, the zen master of my environment. I am become lazy. Within perfect order, chaos. Within perfect chaos, order. Perhaps the only real constant in my universe. This is the way my mind has operated sucessfully for the longest of time. And then college life came and fucked it all around. My life peaked back in March. I'm sure of it. Perfect Control, both real and hallucinatory, of my everyday life. I'd like to think that I still have that control, but things are starting to spiral out. My Opinions on Dorm life: -Being told to "Wash the dishes" should include washing them, rinsing them, drying them, and putting them away. It should NOT include washing the counter, washing the table, washing the kitchen floor, and vaccuming the carpet. If these need to be done, you say "clean the kitchen", and even then, it doesn't need to be done daily. 29 out of 30 randomly interveiwed students agreed with me on this. -You should not have to buy your roommate beer if your friends, as questionable as they might be, come over and drink it and then don't tell you about it until you have to kick them out at 2:30 am because you have class in 6 1/2 hours. You especially do not have to buy it if said roommate has alcohol abuse issues (and not just in the stereotypical college manner). -If the shoes are clean, they may go as they please. this includes the kitchen floor, the stairs, and the living room. -If a roommate washes all the dishes, including the ones you told him were yours and you'd wash on your own time, you should not be expected to wash all of theirs and the other roommates. They shouldn't have to be told twice, they know better. -"Acting like a Man" should not include shaving your chest hair with a Gilette Mach 3 Turbo, wearing clothes made for kids half your age in the largest available size, wearing 3 different colognes, talking with a lisp, watching "The O.C." habitually, and listening to crap dance music they play in popular nighclubs. Your just asking for trouble with this. -A lasso is made for roping cattle, not humans. -"Dirty Skid" is not an insult; it's something you find at a warehouse. -Just because you've been to Amsterdam doesn't make you cool. You have never smoked pot a day in your life. -You can live without a microwave. Watch me. -Manipulate your R.A., and exploit your roommates to the greatest lengths you can. and now, your opinions, please. |
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| The Campfire Headphase | October 19, 2005, 7:26 pm |
| Go out and buy this record with money | |
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| A Dream for a Requiem | October 4, 2005, 11:46 am |
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Here's the basic premise of the dream I had last night (4 hours sleep, 6 pm to 10 pm) Steve is a gay scientist. He once had an affair with Waldo, and is madly, but secretly, in love with him. He is on the Nobel Prize committee for the prize, and considers to give the prize to Waldo in an effort to win him over. Waldo is the only thing on his mind. Waldo is a brash, rude young scientist, on the short list for the Prize. He has no love for anyone other than himself, and is caught in a relationship with Janet that he depends on for sexual gratifacation. He also has issues with premature ejaculation, and regrets his decision to have had an affair with Steve. Janet is a fellow scientist who is "stuck" with Waldo. Due to Waldo's performance in bed, she wants to move on and find a meaningful relationship. She knows about Steve and Waldo's past affair, and wants to use it to get Waldo and Steve togeather. Iben is also on the shortlist for the Prize. An alcoholic, he depends on liquor as a way of defeating his perceived inadequecies in research compared to his contemporaries. Over the course of the story, Iben becomes manipulated by Steve to break up Janet and Waldo, being led on with hints that if he is successful, he will win the Prize from Steve. He also has a schoolboy crush on Janet. |
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| "I'm the greatest guitarist in Calgary, what's your name?" | September 26, 2005, 4:38 am |
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So it wasn't neerly as hard as I was led to beleive. A year of working for the man had hardened me enough to sort out any emotional difficulties I had with moving out, although in retrospect, I was quite concerned at the time. As I sit hear, in the glow of the screen, I'm thinking back to the past 5 weeks. You know what's disgusting? When you spend over $700 dollars on a woman you've convinced yourself is the most intelligent, beautiful, clever, self-loathing crature to walk God's green earth, and knowing all along that the chances she'd do something as simple as lay her lips on yours are one in a million, and yet you drool over her like a dog with an old tennis ball and fantisize about what could be and what could have been. And then suddenly, you decide you severe her from your life like a gangrenous limb in a most pathetic and horrendus manner. Whats disgusting is that you still might feel a shread of passion for this person, and they have a few material possessions of yours that you care more about than her, and most disgusting of all is that if it comes down to it, there's a chance that you might have to consider her as a last resort. It's kept me awake all hours of the night for a week. Disgusting. My roommates are an eclectic bunch. Barrett is a fat, hairy metrosexual with a *******e alcohol abuse problem. Last night, he went to his on-and-off girlfriend's dorm, came back stinking drunk and got in a heated arguement with me, left, came back 5 minutes later talking about some strange drink a guy gave him. We thought it was a date rape drug but it turned out to be over 3 ounces of 95% Everclear. We spent the remainder of the night trying to keep him on the couch, on his side, with a bucket and blanket while I talked with the woman at the poison control center. As the effects wore off, he became more restless, getting on his cell phone and calling as many ex-girlfriends and distant relatives as he could, leaving modulated pitch and volume messages with limited coherency. My roommate next door (It's a 4 bedroom rowhouse with a common kitchen/living room in case your confused), Cory, is a decent guy. Skinny and a neat-freak, likes Mudvayne and Playstation games. I get along with him best. We considered our options of what to do with Barrett last night: hogtie him? Punch each other until we had black eyes and blame him so the RCMP would take him away? Blast him with the fire extinguisher? Justin is a cowboy, and as much as I hate using that word, no other word could describe what he is. Raised on a farm in Rocky Mountain House, the kind of guy who wears his tight jeans, rodeo belts, cowboy hats, plaid shirts tucked in, works at a western outfitter's, need I say more, or use anymore commas? he's a decent, hard working fella with a taste for jazz trumpet. Red Deer isn't as bad as I first thought. The first night I went next door and met people, drank beer, watched Van Wilder, felt comfortable. the only major landmarks are the Capri Hotel, the theatre building of the Arts Centre (where most of my classes are, I've been on the roof), the water tower in the distance, and the 4 smokestacks of the hospital downtown. It's not bad. Oh, and her name is Dana-Ray. We have alot in common. |
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| A Ghost Is Born, Part Two | August 23, 2005, 12:20 pm |
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...Got a box full of letters, think you might like to read... I cleaned out the bottom drawer of my desk last night. Alot of stuff dated in the mid 90's. Photocopied awards on coloured paper with my name on them, from my third grade class. Issue 5 of 6 in Dark Horse's "Star Wars: Dark Empire" series, in good condition except for the spine from being compressed for so long. Science fair diagrams, drama fest playbills, a shitload of star wars crap (holographic stickers, 1995 3D magic eye calender). ...There's a guitar leaning on a Marshall stack. Used to sound like the sun on the horizon, now I guess, we've been had... I have to disassemble my recording studio this week, a task i'm not looking forward to. Everything is all set up the way I like it, and with GarageBand, I've finally been able to get decent recordings of my playing (available here). I don't realy know if i'll have room to set all my equipment back up proper after I move, or if I'll have time to, or what my roommates will think, or if my stuff is likely to get stolen. ...Like a cloud, his fingers explode on the typewriter ribbon, the shadow grows... I'm just trying to document a turbulent time in my life right now. Chapters are changing, pages flipping, and I realy don't think i'm prepared for this. Furthermore, all my close friends are preoccupied, sick, or ignoring my pleas. I feel very alone, and right now, my music is keeping the fragile shell intact. |
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