raaa!

Whoa. Emily and I went to the show at Javajazz last night. It was incredible. The sheer brilliance of Bojones made my pointless but xhardcorex (underscore underscore) existence briefly worthwhile. Their sticker is on my boots.

But yeah, to be less transcendentalist or whatever, it kicked ass. We actually saw good bands. Towards the end of the night the groups became more heavy metalish but they weren't near as, um, xhardcorexunderscoreunderscore as Fyend (learn to spell, dipshits). Bojones was the coolest amateur band I have ever witnessed. The keyboardist/vocalist was a total badass; his contribution to the band was just beating the shit out of this KORG Triton synthesizer and lending some in-tune (thank you, O God of Israel) vocals. Looking at the way he played, jumping around and swinging on the roof and hitting the keys with the microphone, you'd think he had no idea what the hell he was doing, but all three of the band members each had a solo during their set, and he's pretty freakin good. Their sound is so unique. While he was fixing his keyboard the guitarist broke out into a blues solo. The drummer was like, Jesus. With drums. DrumsJesus the sequel.

So yeah, I got a free sticker. Emily got a shirt for free from the Miss the Mark vocalist, who was a pretty cool guy. The Bojones guitarist gave her a cd at a reduced price; he seemed kind of laid back. They're, like, from the South Side. We were easily the coolest people there, especially after all the Paris Hilton lookalikes showed up to watch the Creedesque Christian rock band.

Ever walk so much that the floor acts as kind of a baseball bat, bombarding your feet with painful pain each time you take a step? I'm passing out doorhangers for Jackpot Pizza now, and, well, I did that a lot today. I did roughly half of Oakwood Glen. I almost got eaten by some guy's giant Doberman, but luckily, the guy decided to tell it not to eat me. I thanked him.

It's a great gig for me because the boss of the place says he can keep me doing this about every week if I'm willing to distribute to my neighborhood, Oakwood Glen, and Spring Creek Oaks. I get paid 80 bucks in cash per thousand doorhangers (tax-fucking-free!), rather than being paid hourly. So, in other words, I actually get paid more if I work faster, rather than getting paid more for slacking off. It makes actually speaking with people worth it, because I know that for each crazy old man I give coupons to, I'm rewarded with eight precious cents. I like money. I think I'm going to use some of the extra dough to get a subscription to Ironcity gym so that I can really work out instead of bench-pressing on a slanted patio while breathing smoke from a barbecue grill. Not cool. Manly and rugged in a way, but not really much fun.

I need to get my hair cut, but I have to wait until March 17th because my hairstylistperson is moving out of the joint she used to work in and is getting her own place, supposedly because they paid her less and less. Meh.

I'm talkin downtown

Went downtown today to see the guys at Neal Hamil. Missed poetry club but managed to deliver my little star-shaped cookies. More pictures taken. Asked if I would have a problem being an underwear model. I said not really. I'm going to get myself into a great lot of fun and trouble one of these days. I can't wait.

I bought a wedge of Leyden cheese today. I've never had it, nor heard of it, but, I dunno, it's some kind of cheese made with cumin. I'm about to go and try some. Food rocks, yo.

~pounce?

Man, shit. Tomorrow I've got to go home reg'lar time with everyone else. That's total bullshit; I didn't take early release to be released early most of the time. I took early release so I could get the fuck out of school at 1:30. Not only that, I have to go downtown tomorrow to see crazy modeling agency, so I can't stay for poetry club. Sad. I made little strawberry-frosted star-shaped cookies though for everyone, so it'll be kind of like I'm there.

I think that, once I catch up on the sleep I will definitely lose tonight, this could be an interesting week. I feel like doing something outrageous.

ha!

I am marvelously content with existence right now; or at least enraptured by its spontaneity. I think that as long as we breathe, love, and feel, life will never be boring because it never tires of putting the next course in front of you, and I am merely picking at the appetizer. I suppose that you could analagously say that the best way to judge an existence is by its calamari, and mine is never overcooked.

I really don't think I give a damn what happens to me in the future as long as I continue to be alive; as long as I can laugh. I don't even know what I'm trying to say here--I rarely do. I have no private diary in the shadow of this one, friends, nor any entries that go unpublished. I give forth my best efforts to this dusty looking-glass in recording what I experience, and it is no match for the sensations evoked by such simple pleasures as nutmeg in coffee, a smile, or an unrealistically beautiful person whom you are sure you will never see again. I baked bread today and felt it with my flour-dusted hands. I brushed the autumn-colored crust with olive oil like I was painting some kind of edible canvas, and gave a piece of the artwork to a friend (DeGouy is absolutely fucking brilliant because he acknowledges the fact that cooking's purpose is clearly and unmistakably to improve the quality of human life and nothing else).

I'd better go to bed.

we drift deeper, and life goes on. as the rush comes.

You know, it's kind of fun to sit back and put your keyboard on your lap and type. I think they should design a keyboard that's all ergonomical and fits on your lap perfectly so I can do this all the time.

Haven't been able to write any kind of decent song in awhile. Thinking I may need more samples to inspire me. I might look on the intarweb. Whoa. But yeah. Really want to make another lounge track, something that I'd actually feel good about sharing with people, like my Bloop track. And god, that one is perfect now that I've remastered it and stuff. I dunno. Whenever I want to write a song, my inspiration often comes to me after I hear a certain drum break on my winamp playlist, so I rush into fruityloops to see if I can make something similar, and then winamp will switch to one of those things that I have no idea as to why I own (like, from Dzihan & Kamien - Homebase to Tai Mai Shu - Freestyle Rap) and my sense of tempo and beat and shit explooooooodes.

Holy shit, Love is the Message by Ciacomix just came on digitally imported!

I'm pretty sure I'm not going to school tomorrow. Who wants to join me and try to lose the school some money on attendance? Fucking TAKS test! They'll have me come for an hour and a half of English and leave, will they? Ha!

Saw a Texans for Kerry sticker on this beat up old pickup truck with some lawnmowers in it yesterday. Kicked ass. Wish I could've taken a picture, because that guy's a soljuh.

I don't know what I'm going on about. Just passing the time because I'm anxious to get out of my house to Barnes and Noble tonight.

Update: Our ensemble made a 1. We kick ass.

Secrets! Intrigue! I ate an apple fritter!

Stuff is going great right now. I'm really happy. I don't even think I'm going to go to school on Tuesday, because I would just be going to English for an hour or so and then back home.

Solo and Ensemble today. I think my ensemble (Alex, Kathy, Meaghan, and myself) did pretty well considering all the problems we had on our road to utter musical perfection. Yeah.
Mr.Horton: Why don't we try it about two dynamic levels softer?
Us: Because it would be harder.

Allison is a fun person. Went to Barnes and Noble tonight and got along really well. I regret not getting to know her better earlier; we've only been in school together for, um, a lot of years. Hanging out again on Monday. Yay!

Tomorrow is the empty schedule... hmm. I'm going to have to figure out what to do.

~gather ye rosebuds before the onrushing river of lava devours our fragile bodies in a searing wave of molten iron

Okay, I have instructions for you guys.

1. Go to www.modellover.com .
2. Try to ignore that really not-so-good-looking male model on the cover of the site. No, that exposed nipple is not a secret button leading to some sort of minigame. I've tried it, so don't click it.
3. Click on Model Search.
4. Hit the little white arrow that comes up.

Whoaaaa, whoa! It's me and some chick! Whoa!.

Yeah, that's the second look we did at the photo shoot I was at awhile back. Personally I like the first one better because in the second one, I think you can tell I'm very tired of holding that pose for 30 minutes, I'm developing tendonitis in my lower back, and I'm very, very nervous about not touching the diamond-studded straps on whatsherface's 2600$ dress. But I won't be a typical model and be dissatisfied with everything I do. Meh.

I wrote "Todd likes sex" on the crayon box at Starbucks

Today is truly a day of days. My chief thought all day had to do with what to drink when I got to Starbucks after school. In choir my ensemble had to sing in front of the class. Very embarrassing as my voice kind of ran out of gas on a big sustained high note, which took a bit out of the harmony we were going for. There were worse ensembles than us though, which is good, but we have to perform tomorrow in front of the judges. Craaazy.

At Starbucks today (my favorite one, the one next to the Target on 249), the sexy Tim Burton-looking Gothic barista gave me 89 cents in change in return for a ten after I bought a cup of coffee, and I didn't even notice until I was down the street with Todd and realized I had absolutely no paper money. I theorize that she used some sort of seductress ninjutsu on me and I simply took the 89 cents and grinned. She was just so nice! She even made the plate with my seven-layer bar all decorative with chocolate syrup like a pastry chef and the coffee was so good! I bet she makes so much money that way... and now I know her name, because when I went back to protest my lack of money, the manager was like, "shazbot, must've been Kelly, she left". Like, omgomgomg (I am pathetic)! On a side note, it's good to dress uniquely. I was wearing a slim suit and a white shirt today with my brown-checkered socks, so some guy remembered me coming in and I got my five bucks back. That's the best Starbucks ever (I've also never dropped any Goddamn glass bottles at that one).

I deadlifted 200 pounds the other day. My legs were supporting, like, 355 pounds! Strength! >.< I've realized recently that my patio, which is where my weights are, is not level. Therefore, one side of my body is stronger than the other because it has to push up at a less advantageous angle on the bench. I think it's my left side, which is actually good, because when you think about it, that makes my right and left side about even (so no muscle imbalances). Fuck, I'm just trying to justify having a crappy outdoor weight set that's subject to rust. I need a real job for a real gym subscription so I don't have to run to Ehrhardt with ankle weights and do pullups on the fucking monkey bars.

NARUTO GOT LICENSED! AAAARGGGGHHH. But I think Dattebayo fansubs is still doing it, so I might be in luck. The grim news is that Cartoon Network will be showing it (I think in the fall of this year), and that will be an atrocity unto mankind, because I hate almost all dubbed anime. It just sounds like ass, no matter how you do it; they usually get some girl's voice for the big deep-voiced guy and then they have someone like me speak for, like, fucking Yugi-Oh. Ugh.

I really feel like going out again tonight. Meh. Human interaction is nice; I've been playing waaay too much of the Face of Mankind beta, which does not count at all.

Ugh. Crappy day from the beginning. I woke up too late this morning, and had no time at all to make coffee or eat breakfast when I got out of the shower. My solution to this problem was to microwave the coffee from yesterday morning (something that should only happen in the areas of hell closest to Satan) and put some biscuits and this little kolache thing I baked the other day into a paper bag for later. The biscuits + kolache thing was a good idea, because it tasted like food. The coffee was a shitty idea, because it tasted like shit. Anyway, with my makeshift morning routine slapped into my Skinny Puppy bag, I rushed out the door to get to the second bus stop (if I miss the first one, the bus comes back onto my street via an intersecting street about ten minutes afterwards), and of course, when I got there, I realized that I'd left my shitcoffee back at home. I threw my stuff onto somebody's lawn and performed a feat of true athletic prowess by sprinting all the way back to my kitchen table. I really only chase after romantic endeavors and java (as both are my chief weaknesses), and one was incredibly more important than the other at that moment--I ran fucking fast. I was panting when I walked out the door with my mug and had really planned to just walk back, but Sterling shouted at me from the stop that the bus was just about there. I don't know where it came from, but I found the energy to run back there without spilling a drop of my day-old muddy Kauai.

So, yeah. I feel like shit today, due in part to the sprinting without any stretching at all, my voice being hoarse, my stomach being upset, and the fact that I had to work afterwards (though Emily really cheered me up with some kind of new-fangled white-strawberry chocolate). Passing out flyers today was an unreal experience. I couldn't really keep my eyes open very well and kind of lost my sense of alertness completely. People would be like, "Here, I'll take that" and I'd just walk past the bastards and put my stupid realty advertisement on their door anyway. I didn't bother with the hat or ponytail or anything, just threw on the Pachuca futbol jersey and shuffled away.

I even considered the vague possibility of actually participating in this holiday today, since there is a florist right across the street from Klein, but the lack of rest proved that impossible (not to mention I don't really know who I'd give flowers to), and I daresay I do not look very romantically inclined today anyway. I don't know--single people make this big deal about Valentine's Day and are all like, "OMG TEH SADNESS NO LOVE FOR MEEE". I'm not really sure if that's how I feel or not. I think I'm just kind of apathetic, but I also don't like to overdramatize things like that. You're not going to asphyxiate without receiving a gigantic talking bear and a heart-shaped cake from somebody (though nobody would be unhappy to have such a thing happen to them), so get over it. Besides, I'd rather complain about work, or something, because bitching about being single is just a horrible way to hide the fact that you want attention.

~I saw a turtle bumblebee today
she stung me slowly

LUGOUT

Uhoh, my internal clock's mainspring is bent all outta wack. So, like, I'm still awake, which means tomorrow will be a sleepy day. Oh well, it could be worse. Besides, I managed to get something done; I filled out my application to PCI wrong and said I didn't need on-campus housing, but, like, I do. And stuff. So I told em about it. That may have been the most productive thing I've done in weeks.

Fucking FAFSA number!

The government hasn't sent me my damn FAFSA pin# yet. Stupid government. I need to apply for financial aid, loans and federal aid and shit, and I need a number. I want to go to Pittsburgh and live there and be a Yankee bastard. I'm going to beat the shit out of them when I get to Washington.

Been feeling sick, but I think I'm better now. My voice has been about an octave too low and sounds like I've been smoking a lot of menthol for awhile now (it's kind of cool). Weird sickness though. Just throat congestion, no weakness or fever or anything. Worked out like fucking crazy yesterday. Everything hurts, and I couldn't get out of bed today because I did 30 pound incline situps yesterday. 20 of them in a row (yeah, I'm a badass). I'll be like Carl from Love, Actually in no time if my dad quits deglazing our iron skillets with quarter-sticks of butter.

I revamped the general sound of my old lounge track--bloop--tonight. The original had painfully overwhelming bass, a fact I realized when I actually played it in a car stereo. Unfortunately, I've lost the original Fruityloops project, but I was able to tone down the bass by converting my existing version to .wav, importing it into a new project, and applying a parametric EQ and a clipper to it. Sounds a lot better, some of the instruments have more clarity, and my droplet instrument doesn't scratch when it hits high notes anymore. I only wish I had the original so I could make remixes (can anybody say FM distortion, or DJ Johann vs. DaRude?). I'm such a geek.

Poetry club this Wednesday. Anybody have any suggestions of what I should bake?

I think I'm going to go walk in the rain.

~G, R, double-E N
leaves.

It's 2 AM. I've been playing Face of Mankind, a new MMORPG which is in an open beta stage. It's okay but not the kind of thing I could play for a long time. Tribes is better. At least I got the goddamn thing to work; turns out to fix my Direct3d problem, I had to install an old set of drivers. Yeah, fucked up, huh? Don't upgrade your drivers for better performance--get the older ones.

Mardi Gras party yesterday, which in itself kind of sucked, but our group got first place in the costume contest and I drank some really black coffee at Starbucks afterwords. They've acquired more big soft chairs at that location--a definite plus.

Damnit! I think sleep is a waste of time. I mean, I'll spend such a huge amount of my life sleeping. It's depressing. I need to do that right now but there are precious hours ahead of me that will simply slip past my unconscious mind. I'll miss the sunrise, and hot coffee, and muffins, or something. My mom bakes stuff Sundays. It's like, how I go to church. I eat muffins.

Yay. Valentine's Day is Monday.

~if I see you again I'll have to fire

You Have A Type B+ Personality

B+ You're a pro at going with the flow You love to kick back and take in everything life has to offer A total joy to be around, people crave your stability. While you're totally laid back, you can have bouts of hyperactivity. Get into a project you love, and you won't stop until it's done You're passionate - just selective about your passions

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

downtempo house beats

Musical tonight. Gonna be awesome; leaving soon.

I hate timed writing. I can never think of anything to write. One of the available topics today was liberals vs. conservatives (compare and contrast papers) and I didn't even really bother to take that one. I just don't write on command, I guess; something really profound has to hit me like a boat paddle and I have to remember it, and those two essential steps rarely take place together, if at all. I don't stand for mediocrity which is why you don't see much of my writing.

Today, Mr.Rice told us that he has something hidden under the rainbow umbrella that's on the wall. I must know what that something is. My first guess was that it's one of those giant .50 cal Smith and Wesson Specials, you know, in case some kid really makes a big deal out of his tardies being counted every Goddamn day, but I could be wrong. It could be a multitude of things, like a severed human hand or a small interdimensional window to a higher plane that he just got stuck with when he was assigned a classroom. I could've hit a nerve when I asked Mr.Rice what the world would look like in fractional dimensions; my answer could be behind that damn umbrella. The very umbrella itself could be some kind of weapon; a futuristic Final Fantasy-esque Gunbrella. Blade. Saber.

time for a drum break

~bass and several car

I wouldn't read this, it's about c0/\/\p|_|734z

I am fairly certain it will rain this entire week. I have acquired this surity not from the weatherman, who chuckles menacingly in his Thunder Fortress above the clouds, but from a realtor. I am absolutely sure it will rain every day this week, mostly when I get home from school, because I have to work, passing out flyers. I do like money, I suppose. The feeling of joy I am experiencing is nearly unbearable.

I hate Nvidia. I have always hated them, not only before, but after they bought out 3dfx, proclaiming to preserve the flawless old-school performance of the Voodoo's visual hardware. Assholes. Now, along with ATI, who I have also always hated due to their unsavory driver bugs, Nvidia is, like, the shit. It's what you get if you play games and the games aren't seven years old, like all of mine (and my operating system).

What I'm getting to is that awhile ago, I went out and picked up a Geforce FX 5500. Believe it or not, the motherboard I may as well have found in a Goddamn Cracker Jack box supports it, being 4x AGP.

I can't run a single motherfucking piece of software that uses Direct3d. I've tried everything; BIOS settings, different monitors, different versions of DirectX, different versions of the Nvidia drivers, third party drivers, disabling my sound card because some bullshit FAQ told me to, and reinstalling windows. Twice.

Technically, my grudge lies with both the chip manufacturer and Microsoft, since anything running on OpenGL works just fine. In other words, I can play games that run on the old Unreal engine (Rune is actually quite a bit of fun), Counter-Strike, and a handful of other things. It may sound like a bit of a silly lament, but it is utterly sad that alternative renderers like Glide simply don't exist anymore. Not only did cards like the Voodoo3 run old games and the games of its time well, but it was adaptive to work with games that came in the future which ran solely on DirectX. And no bugs. No "I'm totally gonna kill the final boss if the motherFUCKER doesn't just turn itself off" crap. You could play Tribes or Total Annihilation or Half-Life for hours and nearly forget what your medium of enjoyment was.

Now, I suppose developers and programming-savvy gamers would argue, games are more complicated. Bullshit. Now we've got crap like Halo which looks fine and all, but is boring and really kind of mentally unchallenging. Come on. Did we play Nethack because we quixotically admired the aesthetics of the little "@" which represented our character? I don't know, but I sure lost sleep over it. Was System Shock 2 one of the best games of all time for its stunning, um, zombie faces? It was badass because it was made by good fucking writers--when you picked up the logs of the confused passengers of the Von Braun, it made you identify with characters that developed throughout the entire game, and actually put you in motion with a real story. Where the hell are adventure games? Where are the people that would still play EverQuest if it were a text-based MUD? Does the community that once wrote the priceless literature of the Diamond Sword and Blood Eagle just play World of Warcraft now? I've really kind of fear that computer gaming would steer carelessly into virtual-reality eye candy and nothing more than a thousand Battlefield 1942 sequals: more of the same with a few more polygons. Games like Quake 3 where the single player campaign is to battle Sarge and his friends in a conquest for... something.

Off on a tangent. What I meant to say is that

I HATE NVIDIA.

It's a day spa, you fuck

Last night I had a dinner party at my place with Nicole, Abbie, Emily, Kathy, and Rob. I think it was probably the third social gathering I've ever held at my house and easily the best. Every aspect of my meal was perfect; I pan-fried venison backstrap that I pounded out, created a new dish of my own like unto my old garlic mashed potatoes (but made more interesting with poblano peppers), made simple asparagus with lemon butter, and baked my buttermilk apple pie. I made a sort of really flavorful ciabatta bread. My stove was sputtering flaming bubbles of grease while I dashed around with my tongs and shallot/basil oil. I had Dzihan and Kamien playing. I made pumpkin spiced coffee. The company was great, as was the oppurtunity to cook for a bunch of people.

Today I sewed up the hole in my John Kerry shirt. I will be wearing it tomorrow, in order to rub it in that we're still at war with a country nobody knows anything about. What I mean is that, in 2000, I was twelve and wondering how the fuck Al Gore lost if more people actually voted for him, and now here I am, five years the wiser, wondering how/why we ended up killing people in some Fallujah desert hellhole. I have not made much progress in my research.

My brownies are cooling on the wire rack; those same brownies which I mixed today using my +5 21 inch wooden spoon of magic missile. They are chocolate frosted chocolate brownies with chocolate chips. Watch out for me tomorrow.

~eastwest
[rock together]
i've got a passion
it's called peace.