17/07/06
OK, as of my birthday. I still don't know if this is a good idea, but I need to figure out how my life would work were I to remove sex as motivation. A time limit seems to belie the purpose; I will have sex again when it is meaningful. Maybe I will search for true love. I don't know what any of those things mean. I don't even believe in them, but this is at least partially about getting cool with futility.
Also, quitting smoking, and giving myself a 4-drink limit. Break out the Minor Threat. It's weird because all these things are coming from completely different places. But I am not mentally or physically stable, and measures need to be taken. I hope you understand.
I'd say that this is going to be a difficult time, but it already is anyway. Come get shitty with me one last time tonight.
Santa Claus does exist, but he has horns, a tail, and a master's list.
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Also, quitting smoking, and giving myself a 4-drink limit. Break out the Minor Threat. It's weird because all these things are coming from completely different places. But I am not mentally or physically stable, and measures need to be taken. I hope you understand.
I'd say that this is going to be a difficult time, but it already is anyway. Come get shitty with me one last time tonight.
Santa Claus does exist, but he has horns, a tail, and a master's list.
|
12/07/06
10/07/06
...not insane in the loose sense of the term but in the strict technical sense? Let it be said that one of the first symptoms of psychosis is that the person feels perhaps he is becoming psychotic. It is another Chinese fingertrap. You cannot think about it without becoming part of it. By thinking aboput madness, Horselover Fat slipped by degrees into madness.
From Philip K. Dick's Valis.
That's the narrator referring to himself.
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From Philip K. Dick's Valis.
That's the narrator referring to himself.
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07/07/06
OK whatever, a few things:
-I started smoking again in Brooklyn. I hadn't even realized how great I felt without this shit until I started again. Now I'm hacking up a dizzy lung. But at least I didn't stab anyone. Damage control. I'm quitting again once this weekend is done with. Don't believe me? Lick my nuts.
-I had sex in an attic in Kentucky. Whoop-de-doo. I had fun. I only mention this because you'll probably hear it from someone else anyway.
I guess that's only a couple things. Those are the only "me" stories I can think of right now. Everything else might be best left to everyone else. Else else else.
I was all stoked to get back and play some Slugbait shows before Drock leaves for BC, but Jordan is being weird and prissy about it, so fuck that band.
Gimme creative pursuits.
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-I started smoking again in Brooklyn. I hadn't even realized how great I felt without this shit until I started again. Now I'm hacking up a dizzy lung. But at least I didn't stab anyone. Damage control. I'm quitting again once this weekend is done with. Don't believe me? Lick my nuts.
-I had sex in an attic in Kentucky. Whoop-de-doo. I had fun. I only mention this because you'll probably hear it from someone else anyway.
I guess that's only a couple things. Those are the only "me" stories I can think of right now. Everything else might be best left to everyone else. Else else else.
I was all stoked to get back and play some Slugbait shows before Drock leaves for BC, but Jordan is being weird and prissy about it, so fuck that band.
Gimme creative pursuits.
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06/07/06
I guess the thing is that I just haven't really known what to do with myself since I've been back. I've always thought of myself as someone who thrives on alone time, but I'm starting to question that. Maybe I'm not the best person I could be when left to my own devices. Whatever life I've crafted for myself here seems kind of hollow right now.
I feel like kind of a pussy or something because I know three weeks isn't really that long of a time to be all affected by and shit, but a lot can happen in three weeks. And to just come home and climb back into this empty grind... it doesn't even suck as much as it just feels like nothing at all. I met so many amazing people who don't just talk about doing cool shit, they fucking get out there and DO cool shit. And here I am with what feels for some reason like a blank slate and neither the means nor the ability to carve more than "Eben wuz here" on the table. The need to be doing more is a strange and spitefully self-sabotaging thing when fuelled by no specific drive.
I almost wish I'd gone to art school. Writing is a bust these days and playing guitar has only ever been a compromise; I like making music, and I'm least-bad at that instrument. I am limited to these two modes of expression. I have to cram all of my ideas into one or the other, and I'm realizing that the results are painfully scarce. And maybe not even so great. But I don't really want to think about that right now.
At least on tour I can throw myself into this martial mentality of having to load in, play, load out. Everything else is gravy. I wouldn't have known it, and it's kind of scary to think that you can still be new to that sort of thing about yrself at the age of 30, but apparently I thrive on that single-mindedness. No skill necessary; only requirement: not being a raving retard. I can mostly do that.
Now I'm back here with a too-big and full-of-junk apartment all to myself, a shitty job that's almost scary because it's not even really so bad but what I'll probably be doing for the rest of my life, and a giant nothing to do with all of the in-between. I'm lonely and bored and frustrated. I'm starting to look my age. I feel transient in my own life.
Is it silly of me to want to just go back on tour?
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I feel like kind of a pussy or something because I know three weeks isn't really that long of a time to be all affected by and shit, but a lot can happen in three weeks. And to just come home and climb back into this empty grind... it doesn't even suck as much as it just feels like nothing at all. I met so many amazing people who don't just talk about doing cool shit, they fucking get out there and DO cool shit. And here I am with what feels for some reason like a blank slate and neither the means nor the ability to carve more than "Eben wuz here" on the table. The need to be doing more is a strange and spitefully self-sabotaging thing when fuelled by no specific drive.
I almost wish I'd gone to art school. Writing is a bust these days and playing guitar has only ever been a compromise; I like making music, and I'm least-bad at that instrument. I am limited to these two modes of expression. I have to cram all of my ideas into one or the other, and I'm realizing that the results are painfully scarce. And maybe not even so great. But I don't really want to think about that right now.
At least on tour I can throw myself into this martial mentality of having to load in, play, load out. Everything else is gravy. I wouldn't have known it, and it's kind of scary to think that you can still be new to that sort of thing about yrself at the age of 30, but apparently I thrive on that single-mindedness. No skill necessary; only requirement: not being a raving retard. I can mostly do that.
Now I'm back here with a too-big and full-of-junk apartment all to myself, a shitty job that's almost scary because it's not even really so bad but what I'll probably be doing for the rest of my life, and a giant nothing to do with all of the in-between. I'm lonely and bored and frustrated. I'm starting to look my age. I feel transient in my own life.
Is it silly of me to want to just go back on tour?
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03/07/06
