26/02/06
I've been awake for 34 hours. I had a fantastic Japanese meal in Canada's tiniest province, and played guitar in my underwear. Tobias and I both bought Henry Miller books for some reason. Problematic set, but I think we came out on top? No idea. Maybe I've got spoiled, but I'm thinking that when one has the chance to use monitors, one really really should. Is that too pseudo-soundspeak? Ah, fuck it anyway, playing on that stage would've sucked. Megan Follows was just happy to see me come out alive:
Yeah, I still have a crush on Sara Gilbert too, wanna fight about it? I wonder if there's a Japanese take on Roseanne.
What the fuck was I even talking about? I think it's time for bed.
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Yeah, I still have a crush on Sara Gilbert too, wanna fight about it? I wonder if there's a Japanese take on Roseanne.
What the fuck was I even talking about? I think it's time for bed.
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23/02/06
It's so ingrained in me that not playing it cool will get you slaughtered. I don't even notice it until after the fact. I'm conditioned to be awkwardly reserved when by nature I'm that guy who just blurts everything out. Instead I stumble over words. How will they be recieved? I hesitate and try to tailor myself. I slip into default and turn away when I want to look straight at you. Fucking lame.
I want to walk backwards and smile at you when we part.
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I want to walk backwards and smile at you when we part.
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20/02/06
15/02/06
Well, the inevitable has finally happened: I went and double-booked myself for Friday. I've played more than one show with more than one band in the same night before--it's strenuous but doable. Exciting, even. But it's never been in two different cities before.
Now that I've got past the initial panic attack and schemed about it a bit, I'm actually pretty sure I can make this work. I do believe I'm close to mastering the art of turning idiocy into awesome. Put something about that on my tombstone, will you? Thank fuck my email finally works again anyway. punk.hfxns.org. Respect. I need to come up with a better organizational system than this. Or one at all, really. See this file cabinet full of empty file folders behind me here? See every available surface in this room littered with paper scraps and sundry other informational fragments? Yeah, I smell a little revolution brewing. And no, my dog didn't just fart. Unless you happen to smell something, in which case WTF Java I'm never giving you cheese again. Burp.
Oh and I'm joining a gym tomorrow. This is a pre-emptive measure against porking out when I quit smoking, and also, y'know, apainfulearlydeath and all that shit. Shut up, I'm serious. I'm 30 and I have high blood pressure. I'm tempted to say something like "I'm not 18 and immortal anymore," but: a) that statement is idiotic, and b) I didn't feel immortal when I was 18 anyway. I just didn't care. I remember saying stuff about how I'd "transcended the existential nausea" and a lot of other hilarious crap that I think I mostly made up out of Marvel comics and the back-page blurbs on dollar-bin philosophy lit. I still don't really care, but the development of having lived to be this age seems to throw a bit of a wrench into that. I care about really stupid, intangible things, but it seems like... if I've made it this far on that, well, I might as well do what I can to keep the game in motion. And very mostly, I don't ever want to become a burden on anyone else. This is more an issue of personal pride than one of humanism or whatever you might properly call it. I want to be a self-sustaining ecosystem. I want to need as little of the external as possible to function optimally. I want to be in a position to give, because that is the right kind of reciprocal relationship. Those built on needs are doomed to fail in that whole "categorical imperative" sorta way. I would make a very inconsistent philosopher.
I've also decided to actually bother calling myself a vegetarian in my head. Not a huge departure, considering that pretty much the only meat I eat is fish, and that I plan to keep doing so. As a maritimer, it is my birthright. It is also very delicious and good for you. Most super-old-timer vegetarians I know have realized the same, and I think the terminology is something like "ovo-lacto-pisce," but that is possibly the most ridiculous nomenclature I've ever seen. I'm also most likely some sort of libertarian, but it's not like I'm ever gonna say it out loud. Maybe I should finally go read that Mill guy. I'm told he's inconsistent too.
And that is the storey off how I spent my summer vacasiun.
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Now that I've got past the initial panic attack and schemed about it a bit, I'm actually pretty sure I can make this work. I do believe I'm close to mastering the art of turning idiocy into awesome. Put something about that on my tombstone, will you? Thank fuck my email finally works again anyway. punk.hfxns.org. Respect. I need to come up with a better organizational system than this. Or one at all, really. See this file cabinet full of empty file folders behind me here? See every available surface in this room littered with paper scraps and sundry other informational fragments? Yeah, I smell a little revolution brewing. And no, my dog didn't just fart. Unless you happen to smell something, in which case WTF Java I'm never giving you cheese again. Burp.
Oh and I'm joining a gym tomorrow. This is a pre-emptive measure against porking out when I quit smoking, and also, y'know, apainfulearlydeath and all that shit. Shut up, I'm serious. I'm 30 and I have high blood pressure. I'm tempted to say something like "I'm not 18 and immortal anymore," but: a) that statement is idiotic, and b) I didn't feel immortal when I was 18 anyway. I just didn't care. I remember saying stuff about how I'd "transcended the existential nausea" and a lot of other hilarious crap that I think I mostly made up out of Marvel comics and the back-page blurbs on dollar-bin philosophy lit. I still don't really care, but the development of having lived to be this age seems to throw a bit of a wrench into that. I care about really stupid, intangible things, but it seems like... if I've made it this far on that, well, I might as well do what I can to keep the game in motion. And very mostly, I don't ever want to become a burden on anyone else. This is more an issue of personal pride than one of humanism or whatever you might properly call it. I want to be a self-sustaining ecosystem. I want to need as little of the external as possible to function optimally. I want to be in a position to give, because that is the right kind of reciprocal relationship. Those built on needs are doomed to fail in that whole "categorical imperative" sorta way. I would make a very inconsistent philosopher.
I've also decided to actually bother calling myself a vegetarian in my head. Not a huge departure, considering that pretty much the only meat I eat is fish, and that I plan to keep doing so. As a maritimer, it is my birthright. It is also very delicious and good for you. Most super-old-timer vegetarians I know have realized the same, and I think the terminology is something like "ovo-lacto-pisce," but that is possibly the most ridiculous nomenclature I've ever seen. I'm also most likely some sort of libertarian, but it's not like I'm ever gonna say it out loud. Maybe I should finally go read that Mill guy. I'm told he's inconsistent too.
And that is the storey off how I spent my summer vacasiun.
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10/02/06
I once had a conversation with a girl that went something like this:
Her: I've wanted all my life to be special, to stand out.
Me: That's kind of funny because I've wanted all my life to be normal and to blend in.
I know that sounds awfully dramatic, but we'd just done it and were most likely on PCP, so it had that kind of mood. Plus she was an actor, and I guess drama is pretty much the gig there. She thought I was grandstanding, but I really did mean it. Being an oddball was pretty much forced on me from day one if even only because of my name. But I grew into it, and I'll do the same to any kids I ever might have. My name is Sue, how do you do? I think it's important to figure out how "normal" works from the outside.
I've grown much more comfortable in my own skin these past few years, and I'm proud of that, but I don't know if I'll ever get past that useless feeling of just wanting to shrink into the woodwork. Yes, this is a retarded way to feel for someone whose life revolves around public performance.
My email doesn't work right now, and that really sucks.
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Her: I've wanted all my life to be special, to stand out.
Me: That's kind of funny because I've wanted all my life to be normal and to blend in.
I know that sounds awfully dramatic, but we'd just done it and were most likely on PCP, so it had that kind of mood. Plus she was an actor, and I guess drama is pretty much the gig there. She thought I was grandstanding, but I really did mean it. Being an oddball was pretty much forced on me from day one if even only because of my name. But I grew into it, and I'll do the same to any kids I ever might have. My name is Sue, how do you do? I think it's important to figure out how "normal" works from the outside.
I've grown much more comfortable in my own skin these past few years, and I'm proud of that, but I don't know if I'll ever get past that useless feeling of just wanting to shrink into the woodwork. Yes, this is a retarded way to feel for someone whose life revolves around public performance.
My email doesn't work right now, and that really sucks.
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