Things are a bit more rosy: shows are getting booked, started designing posters, vocals for acoustic songs are recorded, seeing vans at some point, watching House in HD. Might be in Boston longer than I had previously thought, which is OK but need to be filled with productivity.
I also got gift certificates to crappy suburb restaurants. I am more excited about this than I should be.
I think there might be something wrong with me: I can think of nothing I particularly want to do with the internet. Like, I know there ARE things to do with it, almost innumerable things (several of them nonpornography related) but I cannot for the life of me think of a damn thing I actually want to do.
Peeved at lack of responses to tour. Feeling somewhat distraught, lost: HOW THE FUCK DOES A NEW BAND PLAY IN THIS DAMNED COUNTRY? On the other hand, it is probably the hardest time to get anyone on the horn. Headaches.
When things are quiet and I’m alone, I always get nervous that I’ll never be able to write another song again. I worry it’ll suddenly just dry up because, after all, it was never really mine begin with, I was just stealthily stealing into the temple, grabbing a handful of communion wafers, then bolting out of there like the devil’s on my heels. I worry someone will realize I’m a fraud, that the the inspiration lives in my hands and my throat not my head, that I haven’t gotten the reigns on tight enough before I decide to hop on. I worry that, even though people seem to think I have it figured out, I absolutely have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
Usually, sometime amidst the worrying, I play a bit of guitar and I’ll end up writing a new song or at least starting something and it quells the fear. But one of these times, that won’t happen. And THAT’S the time I’m most afraid of.
Back at home. Going to start work on a new acoustic EP soon. I have way too much material unfinished/unrecorded/swirling in the ether. Two weeks and a half weeks of recording, eBaying, Christamasing, and Podcast downloading and I’ll be back in lovely, scenic Altoona, ready to start to finish what I started which is just starting.
I’m trying to think of some quote/lyric to express that I’m excited to be coming back to Boston, but all I could think of was that stupid Dropkick Murphys song “IM SHIPPING UP TO BOSTOOOOON WHOOOAH OH OOOOOH”.
Regardless, I will be in Boston within the hour. Call for hanging.
And frankly I just can’t help it:
I’m sick of so called “independant” culture.
Chuck Palaniuk is not (good) literature,
Requim for a Dream is not (good) film.
If there is anything this decade has given us, it’s a new breed of Philistine.
I’m over it.
I wanna go home and watch American Pie 2.
I am fucking SICK TO DEATH of this shit. I have to imagine it’s people younger/more arrogant than me (a seriously difficult feat) spending their time trying to think of ways to quantify the most banal off-shoots of pre-established genres into something that sounds unique. ALL of these genres could simply be replaced with the word “self-concious.”
I’m starting to get into ornery, washed-up rabble-rouser territory, but seriously, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ROCK AND ROLL? And believe me, this is coming from the dude who doesn’t drink, smoke, and would rather spend a Saturday night watching netflix than doing anything else.
lemme find out: I have a feeling, that if I knew you in real life, I’d probably have the biggest crush on you. You seem like you have everything I like in a guy. That’s all.
thats just cause you haven’t met me, therefore you haven’t seen me drink. i feel like you might actually be horrified. but thank you regardless.
lemme find out: I’m not hitting on you, I’m just saying that you seem like a really awesome guy and all girls should be allowed to have an awesome guy. How do I get one?
i think everyone is entitled to someone awesome, that being said, i also feel most people are truly awesome. i can list about a hundred and one people who will tell you just how awesome i’m not, luckily for me i’ve found the one girl who actually, no matter what stupid shit goes down, thinks otherwise.
listen, i feel like people need to not settle, and need to learn to feel better about themselves. don’t trade your love for anything less than triple what you think you’re worth.
lemme find out: hey, hey you. what are your tattoos of/how many do you have?
well, my first was the miller high life girl on the back of my right arm, then my brass knuckles with “boys no good” (for the band lifetime) on my bicept. on my forearm i have my zombie newbury st girl and my friday the 13th fish.
on my left arm i have my whaling sleeve which is yet to be finished. this is the piece i’m most proud of, or at least it will be when it’s done. it was drawn up without a liner, so it will look like a winslow homer painting eventually.
i’ve got my chest piece: two traditional sparrows with a banner saying “why wait” which is a family motto.
my friend sweets did the linework for an original piece (a super new school horseshoe and shamrock “luck” piece) but i’ve been too much of a baby to get it completed even though we were doing tattoos out of the house at that time.
on my thighs there are some practice pieces: my brother did a big ass mr. peanut. i’ve got my old apartment on it with some teeth and diamonds.
although by far my worst tattoo, the final one is my favorite. while drunk i let my brother put a 666 on me, and then in a tribute to camp wakanda, the summer camp i’ve worked at for 8 years i tattooed “die rotary, die” (rotary is our rival camp across the lake.)
I’ve decided to throw a monkey wrench into the mix. Tomorrow we begin work on a brand spankin’ new song, one I wrote yesterday. It’s a bit like an industrial waltz. I’m going to (for the time being) skip the others on the list because I want to challenge myself and everyone else a bit and because I think it might fit a bit better in a set.
The lyrics aren’t too shabby. Still tweaking. Here they are for your reading pleasure.
I am not a religious person. I am the farthest thing from a religious person. My church is irreverence. I feel no real need disabuse the happy “sheep” (not my word, see previous post) of their notion that there is a heavenly father looking down on us, rewarding and punishing us for our moral tenacity. Still, no human being born of this earth gets a free ride. I see my purpose here as to be one of the few and far between who musses the hair of the faithful.
You are entitled to your beliefs and I would never think to deprive you of them, even if that were possible. You are not entitled to get off this planet (and presumably shot up into the sky via some kind of divine circus canon) without getting hassled by asshole like myself. Sorry. Be brave and turn the other cheek.
I will say that the whole thing, in the context of human history, hell, even NATURAL history, is pretty goofy. At any other time in history, some asshole might look at me like I was crazy because I didn’t believe in/worship Odin or Utu or Anansi.
There are thousands of “dead” gods, out of vogue and no longer worshiped, and probably thousands (if not millions) of others we don’t eve know about because their disciples are long dead and their temples reduced to dust by time. And just because they’re gone doesn’t mean that, in the height of their fervor they weren’t the be-all end-all to their worshipers. We are talking about some hardcore, old school gangsta deities. We’re talking about the gods who demanded blood, human sacrifice, where it was an HONOR to whet their appetites that people went to gladly.
Gods are fashion. They break on to the scene, the cool kids get into it, then the party’s over. Some fashions last longer than others, some as long as human memory, but that doesn’t make them more true, just more appealing.
And I’m supposed to think, “Well, we as humans just didn’t have it right all those thousands upon thousands of other times, but then JESUS came along and all the sudden we figured it out?” Oh, and it just so happens that the most popular god if the day has a doctrine that appeals to both a ruling class as the devine justification for their power and as a marvelous tool against the working class (“When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross,” to bite a line from Sinclair Lewis) as well as appeals to the downtrodden and oppressed, giving virtue and eventual reward to their struggle. That’s just a coincidence, that a religion like that endures because it’s ABSOLUTELY TRUE, not because people desperately want it, NEED IT to be true.
Really? You REALLY think this makes ANY sense? C’mon. Smarten up.
I will say this: this whole thing isn’t focused so much on the belief in god/gods, just in the belief that your god (or understanding of god) is true/eternal/all-powerful/not completely made-up/real. As I pointed out, there’s been no shortage of gods who made their presence felt (wether subtly or more explicitly) in the lives of the faithful, only to fade over time. However, there is something to be said for the fact that human being have, throughout recorded history, felt an obsessive need to CREATE new gods after the old ones die. Something in us NEEDS god/gods to explain something to us, something in our flawed, imperfect words but with a meaning that is indisputable. A more generous person might say this is us trying to describe our place at the hem of god’s coat, a need to quantify this feeling that, YES, a higher power exists, we just don’t know it’s name, so we’ll make one us and pretend we knew all along.
A more cynical person (me) might say that Batman was right (if a bit shortsighted): people (not just criminals) are a cowardly and superstitious lot. We make this shit up as we go along so we feel less like scared, screaming monkeys when there’s a thunderstorm.
Thinking back on myself as a youngster, I realize I’ve become more even-tempered and sedate as I age. I’m not entirely sure I think this is a good thing. I feel somewhat blunted, a safer person to be around and this seems… I don’t know. Maybe counter to what I thought I’d be. I don’t think I was ever a reckless youth, but maybe a bit more fearless and experimental, more set on challenging my world view, exploring.
I am happy that, of all the things I’ve held on to, I still have my drive and my stubborness. “Sticktoativeness” might be a better word, or at least a more charitible one, but it’s not completely accurate either. I can still get what I want done or at least drive myself to try. It’s just the things I want aren’t as brazen.
Band stuff going well, but relentlessly. Tiring even for me. Luckily (for me and Bryan at least) I get to rest and recouperate all day and focus on writing/practicing. I feel like I’m getting very pop oriented and I’m trying shift myself if possible.