Murder Murderer Love Inc.

You And Me And The Beautiful Aerial View Of Sunset City

2008-11-25T11:04:00.005-07:00

In an attempt to connect the proverbial dots - all the things I have mentioned in past entries - I will be posting a new music selection weekly. These posts will only be available to followers of MMLI (gasp). So, I figured we'd start this off the future weeks with a bang:

Braid

Frame & Canvas

Released: 1998

Label: Polyvinyl

Wow, Braid. What to say...? Founded 1993 in Champaign, Illinois. Something I like to call "emo" - the musical energy brought forth by bands such as Rites Of Spring and Sunny Day Real Estate, NOT the mass-produced glamourization of shaggy haircuts, eyeliner on boys, and Gerard Way. Braid is considered to be one of the most influential acts of their time - a fantastic bridge between the hardcore foundations of Dischord Records (most famously Fugazi) and bands with deeper pop roots such as Jimmy Eat World. If I haven't already convinced you that you have to listen to this, would the fact that Alternative Press hailed "Frame & Canvas" as the #10 emo album of all time help? Check it.

DL: hxxp://www.mediafire.com/?yetyhyj0uit

(change xx to tt )

0;0: A Reflection On Rebirth

2008-11-24T11:58:00.001-07:00

There is nothing but dark. Dark existence - blind interference and mindless paths. Figures within a void. We crash into each other's lifeless bodies and then ricochet off into the empty space without any word. Darkness fills every pore of our bodies - blackening our blood and tunring our hearts into iron and burning clockwork. We can barely breathe let alone live - suffocation and choking lifelessness overwhelming.

There is no chance of escape; no broken cries for release. We have given up all of those futile attempts at survival. We have accepted this.

AND THEN! - in a brilliant display of unexplicable purity - small knives of light begin to pierce the dark clouds, and angels sweep away the dust from above. The brightest colors from every edge of the spectrum come alive around us and burn endless possibility into our eyes. They dance and sing and a life that one one can truly understand blankets the world and rids our lives of the endless darkness.

Light reflecting; refracting - shining, glittering dreams of crystal beauty. The warmth returns to our crippled hands and an incomprehensible machine starts slowly groaning into motion. It's progression; happiness - divinity within the simple moments that were taken for granted. The moments that lost us to darkness.

Our hands give us touch; gentleness - something long forgotten in our haphazard stumbling. Our eyes give us sight; hope. Our tongues taste the world within every color we see - taking in the air with renewed purpose.

And our feet give us the dance - to dance away our nightmares and the shadows.

History.

2008-11-05T12:52:00.010-07:00

The Early Morning Brings Ghosts To Life

2008-10-01T10:28:00.002-07:00

This morning sucked; it's hard to look over at a clock reading "3:00 AM" (knowing you will have to deal with waking up at 6:30) and not get a little frustrated. After tossing and turning for probably about four hours, I abandoned all hope for required REM and settled for the leftovers.

I feel pretty hostile - I'm finding myself just generally not okay with most of the thoughts running through my head, let alone the situtations I find myself in and the people I smile and greet. Maybe this is a slap in the face to let some things go, but that's always easier said that done. I find my mind clouded with inconsistencies and the words of invisible monsters - feeling at least two steps behind reality.

Have you ever felt like nothing is working out? Where you just feel bombarded by a list of changes that never seems to get any shorter? Maybe it's just the lack of sleep; maybe not. Maybe I'm just tired to the point that I'm ready to close myself off in my room and pretend like nothing is really happening. I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

Anyways, now that I've filled the page with a rant reminiscent of my junior year in high school, I'm happy to say that my sister got here safe and sound from Portland yesterday. The adventure begins.

This Is Not My Beautiful House, This Is Not My Beautiful Wife

2008-09-29T09:39:00.005-07:00

It's strange how dreams can really shake your reality for awhile. You can find yourself waking up - mouth open in silent scream - shaking, sweating, and cursing your memory for not being able to remember who was chasing you. You can find yourself springing out of bed and running around like a maniac because you dreamt you heard your alarm going off. You can even sometimes feel yourself "fall" back onto the matress after you were just flying around in these rapid eye induced hallucinations.

"There are several functions to dreaming. One is to give balance to the events that happen during the day. Studies have shown that if we interrupt dreaming for humans, they go crazy and psychotic and start seeing hallucinations and all kinds of strange things - even if they get the rest of their sleep. In other words, it's really a vital process. It has actually been scientifically proven in sleep lab research that dreaming increases learning or retention of new knowledge. Obviously, the more we sleep and dream, the more we integrate things that we have learned during the day. That's another valuable function," dream expert Craig Webb says.

I found myself a little shaken this morning after a particulary vivid dream, or nightmare, or both. Strange incarnations of friends, relatives, situations, and the past relived. I'm still here trying to recatch my breath; my heart is still beating to the pulse of an invisible world while my conscious mind is completely aware of the ultimate, undeniable truth:

You. Are. Awake. You. Are. Okay.

"The Nightmare", Henry Fuseli

It's strange what influences our dreams - exotic food from earlier in the evening, a song played in restlessness, or a few lines from a television programme or film. An old photograph. A prominent memory. The balance of these surrealities lies hidden in shadow; no control can be placed over these incredibly powerful visions.

"Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens." (Carl Jung)

In non-dream related trickery, myself, Walker, and The Lee have sneaked our first episode (9/26/08) of the podcast online for the lost wanderer's listening pleasure. We seem to have received a prominently positive response, so we'll definitely be back for seconds this Friday at 7 PM MST.

In other audio related news, Thursday (an old favorite of mine) has just released a split EP with Japanese...um...wow, well they're definitely some kind of band...Envy. The split was announced by Temporary Residence Ltd. a few months ago, and is only available in a CD/LP combo. I guess you just have to listen to it to understand for yourselves:

Thursday, Envy: Split 2008

DL (change xx to tt):

hxxp://www.sendspace.com/file/u7t4je

Enjoy! More soon, including: the secret adventures of Phantom Stranger, journeys to All C's, and how we all learned to stop worrying and love Obama.

Rain Down The Magic

2008-09-25T16:28:00.011-07:00

Well, I have revised the blog again - a little more to my liking. I really like being able to have all the information anyone would need available on one page; I don't know. A little chaotic, but also a little neat freak - a little scattered, but surprisingly well organized. Am I describing the blog now or myself?

Sigh. So much to do.

Yesterday, Marble and I swung back by 8 Houses Down to finish up the final master of Jane Lane's upcoming EP, Stories. After experiencing a little trouble with MySpace revamping their music player, we got four new songs up for your listening pleasure. The new songs include "A Real Live Girl", "She Was The East River", "This Is The Story", and "Vacant" (an acoustic version). I think MySpace is still experiencing a few problems with it's new "featured playlist" option, so if you can't see the songs immediately when the page loads, click the dropdown menu in the music player and select "Stories EP" from the list.

LISTEN TO THE NEW SONGS HERE!

We should have it available digitally from iTunes in the next week. I'll keep you all updated.

The Creature, circa 1954

In other audio related news, Benecio, Walker, and The Lee will present BENECIO & WALKER'S MOST EXCELLENT PODCAST OF DEATH, DOOM, AND DESTRUCTION tomorrow at 7 PM MST. This is the first episode in a weekly podcast - a collection of reflections, ideas, and plans for the zombie apocalypse (to say the least). In future episodes: Creature (TM) hunting tips, Hampshire 3.0, Jake Fairly, and guest appearances from The Baron (from The Thrill Of The Hunt). Exclusive music, scattered thought, and utter chaos for all! Every Friday a new episode will be available for download at HERE.

Elise got terribly sick this last week, and I ended up getting it too - I'm downing liquids and Airborne like there is no tomorrow so I can hopefully beat the germs and get better by the time my sister gets here. I haven't been able to go to work for a week now, so I still have to figure out what I am going to do about that situation. Really. I have just been so busy trying to work out the next few weeks - getting things going with the CD, getting promotion done, making enough money to survive on, etc. - that I haven't been able to get my head straight long enough to form a short-term plan. I need to figure this all out fast.

So many things happening/happened at once. This week was a drag. Hopefully this weekend will be better.

...A Beautiful Moment, Trapped, Glowed Under The Water.

2008-09-18T10:40:00.005-07:00

Some exciting things being brought to us by lady Music this month. Not only are we (Jane Lane) preparing to release our debut EP, Stories, at the end of this month, but we ourselves are expecting a bucketload of amazing releases. I thought that I'd mention some in this blog; I've considered before turning MMLI into a music blog, so let's both just consider this the first real step in that direction.

Eluvium - "Genius And The Thieves" (from An Accidental Memory InThe Case Of Death)

Just learned that Eluvium, aka Matthew Robert Cooper, will be releasing a 7-LP vinyl box set with hardbound, cloth cover book. The release itself contains every single Eluvium release. The might be the most beautiful designed and well planned vinyl release I've seen this year - maybe even since Sigur Ros' "In A Frozen Sea".

I consider Eluvium's "Talk Amongst The Trees" my 'desert island' album. I could listen to that ambient masterpiece a million times and never get bored of it. Every single time I hear it, I discover new, hidden (or simply, waiting?) pieces in the music. New things. Exciting things. Eluvium is something special to me.

It was this music that really pushed me towards exploring the ambient realm - new artists such as Hammock and Helios, as well as "legendaries" (if you can call artists of the 80s and early 90s onwards "legendaries") such as Brian Eno, Tim Hecker, and Christian Fennesz. It really opened new doors.

Eluvium Live: "Under The Water It Glowed"

The Eluvium box set will be available for preorder from Temporary Residence Ltd. on October 1st. They estimated the price at $100 plus shipping.

Matthew Cooper has been very busy as of late - he also just released a self-titled album available exclusively on vinyl entitled "Miniatures". I offer a track for you all to enjoy from that release.

Matthew Robert Cooper - Miniatures 7

That's all for now. Next time: Thursday, Envy, And How They Learned To Play Nice.

Open The Pod Bay Doors, Hal!

2008-09-15T10:14:00.002-07:00

Ugh. The inevitable pain in the ass that is reformatting my computer. After my computer pulled some ridiculous shenanigans - including an ever-freezing start menu, a lack of free space, and not recognizing a Win XP native DVD - I decided to blow a hole in this PC's chest and take my revenge. Armed with "the perfect XP" (a slimmed-down, performance-oriented SP3 build) and everything backed up to the externals (oh, and complications with my hard drive playing "now you see me, now you don't"), I'm currently 52% into deleting all its precious files that made my life so hard up until this point.

So many problems! First, it won't let me reformat my Leopard partition because the Mac filesystem differs so from the Windows'. Then (with a little help from PartitionMagic - thank you god!) after deleting Leopard entirely and extending my Windows partition to the full capacity of my hard drive - Windows Setup does not "believe" that there are any hard drives installed on the computer. Oh, fuck you too.

Open the god damn pod bay doors, Hal!

Now I'm sitting here on Elise's MacBook once again typing this blog entry as my computer whimpers. It should be happy - I'm probably ridding it of hundreds of unseen malware files and trojan horses (Avast Anti-Virus? Yeah. Right.). I'm prepared to turn it into an open-source fueled fighting machine. I couldn't bring myself to dual boot Linux again - past experiences with RedHat have left me a little weary. Maybe Ubuntu could do the trick.

Otherwise, I'm trying to get a lot of work hours in extra at home because my sister, Robyn, will be visiting me from Oregon at the end of September. Between having to pay rent, pay for the "Shards Of Alara" prerelease tournament, and getting food, I certainly hope I have a bit of money left over to have fun with my sister...

Well, just a little rant about the 1s and 0s - I'll be off now. Tune in next week for stories of mad beats from the world of Magic: The Gathering, and a little thing called love. Ciao.

Oh, By The Way, Which One's Pink?

2008-09-04T17:00:00.003-07:00

Had a very interesting conversation with the two Marbles last night; after discussing everything from the subtleties of lyrical voicings to the wonder years of Stevie Nicks, we settled on the nebulousness of "rock and roll lifestyles" - drugs, booze, and abundant women and how each one can change people. Not usually for the better.

After quickly eliminating women from the list of "bad" things...

We came to a pretty interesting conclusion about the whole thing. In the world of independent music today - a world where most artists take out personal loans to buy equipment, and work odd jobs with even odder hours to squeeze in practice - I think the granduer and the drawing 'mystique' behind the life of "rock stars" has been given up for the hardworking, loud, and musically responsible lifestyle. I mean, seven years in the band, one full-length album, two demos, one EP, an amp (and it's three replacements), and a summer tour later - would I really want to jeopardize all of my hard work for a little fun?

I think that indie artists (and most musicians in general, minus the $25 million dollar deal pop stars and bands that originated in the 60s, 70s, 80s...) have steered their energies away from the throwing their lives away. There's a few bad apples here and there (Ms. Winehouse...?), but as a whole, I think it's getting a lot better. The air a lot cleaner. Maybe I'm just a little too hopeful about the next few coming months, and am seeing things with a slight overlay of obliviousness.

Marb and I also discussed with John how we believe marijuana and it's position in the world - among government's laws and foreign religions and modern cultures and new ideas - is not that 'bad' of a thing. I guess if you're parent with a son in a rock band, you might see this "drug" as something completely different. A slip forward into the rock and roll lifestyle? No, just a decision made; a idea formed. I feel I don't need to ramble all of personal opinions on cannabis drug culture here on this blog...

Otherwise, three new songs were put up on the Jane Lane MySpace last night. None of them are currently available for download, but I will be posting a track for download in the coming weeks. Better quality versions will be posted to the MySpace soon, so look out for a huge announcement about them then. In the meantime, this is really mostly for anyone who stumbles across my blog before the big day:

A Real Live Girl, This Calls For An Execution (Hurrah! Hurrah!), Vacant

Another day, work at home. Need to go in as many days as humanly possible in these next two weeks. Big plans require big money. Things on the shopping list:

Gorilla Glue Duct Tape. It's all I'll need.

If We Can Hold On Until The Mood Swings Are Gone

2008-09-01T09:21:00.002-07:00

...We might just have a chance.

Alright, so it's almost been another full year since I've graced my blog with any kind of thought. Bored at work, and barely alive, I set out to make my blog look a little more attractive to me. With the help some sweet CSS from JackBook and a pinch of creative engineering, I welcome you to Murder Murderer Love Inc. version...well, I lost track somewhere around 13.

So a lot of things have changed since December 31st. I don't really know where to begin, so I guess that I'll start with saying that I am sitting in my living room typing this on Elise's brand new MacBook. I live with Elise and Jean now, back in Denver, trying to move along one day at a time.

By "back in Denver" I mean that I was gone for six months - living in Oregon with my family. I needed some time to really evaluate who I was, what I wanted, and what I needed to do to get it. Some rocky moments along the way - working out the future with the band, missing my friends terribly, feeling completely alone in a brand new town - but more good than anything. From my extended "mental-health" stay, I created two albums (Borderline Angelic's third and final studio album, "From The Park To Your Apartment", and a new ambient-electronica release under pseudonym Pareidolia entitled "Untitled I"), made quite a bit of money (slaving day after day in the freezing cold and trivial rhythm of Baskin Robbins), and bought far too many vinyls.

But on May 6th, 2008 - my planes filled the sky. After spending three days on the road with Elise - traveling across Oregon, Idaho, Utah, and the endless 'state of mind' that is Wyoming - I arrived back in Denver to a new apartment, a new job, a new start.

Quite a start it has been.

After finally letting go of the opressive title of "Sudden Epidemic", we most recently changed the band name to Jane Lane (www.jane-lane.com). A few shows later (with local legends Vices I Admire and Synthetic Elements), a week spent holed away in Denver's own 8 Houses Down recording studios, and a feature in the "Who's Making Noise" collumn of the Colorado Music Buzz - things have begun to burst at the seams. Everything seems like it is happening at once, and all falling into specifically placed spaces along the timeline.

As Elise so wonderfully put it, "I can smell something amazing is going to happen".

So, when I'm not playing music, playing music, or playing music - I spend my days organizing web orders and maintaining the site for The Wizard's Chest (www.wizardschest.com) and discussing the properties of the universe with Mr. Alex Marble over a few games of Magic. I feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace - even though I know I still have plenty to stress about - and happiness. Happy to have this wonderful musical opportunity, and happy to share it with my closest friends. Happy to have returned the people I missed so much, and happy to see where both my path and their's have taken me. Happy to sleep soundly next to Elise, and happy to hear the way her voice sings in a whisper in my ear. Happy.

I think I'm okay with that.

Top 50 Albums Of 2007

2007-12-31T14:56:00.000-07:00

Real music in today's world is a quite a hard thing to come by. It's still there hiding somewhere behind the billboards and television advertisements; retreating from Zach Braff movie soundtracks and interactive 'play a dwarfish plastic guitar and feel like you're Slash' video games.

For all of those swept up in a seemingly endless sea of prepackaged pop idols, mainstream media, and records produced by Starbucks, let us now take a step back and look at what really made this year musically "worth it". Don't worry, it's all going to be okay.

50. Say Anything - "In Defense Of The Genre"
49. The Rocket Summer - "Do You Feel?"
48. The Polyphonic Spree - "The Fragile Army"
47. The Go! Team - "Proof Of Youth"
46. Coheed & Cambria - "No World For Tomorrow"
45. Pink Martini - "Hey Eugene"
44. The Chemical Brothers - "We Are The Night"
43. Straylight Run - "The Needles, The Space"
42. Amy Winehouse - "Back To Black"
41. Jens Lekman - "Night Falls Over Kortedala"
tied with...
41. Against Me! - "New Wave"
40. St. Vincent - "Marry Me"
39. The White Stripes - "Icky Thump"
38. CocoRosie - "The Adventures Of Ghosthorse And Stillborn"
37. Bjork - "Volta"
36. Deerhoof - "Friend Opportunity"
35. Justice - "†"
34. Jesu - "Conquerer"
33. Jimmy Eat World - "Chase This Light"
32. Bloc Party - "A Weekend In The City"
31. Motion City Soundtrack - "Even If It Kills Me"
30. Air - "Pocket Symphony"
29. Modest Mouse - "We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank"
28. Six Organs Of Admittance - "Shelter From The Ash"
27. Do Make Say Think - "You, You're A History In Rust"
26. Robert Plant/Allison Krauss - "Raising Sand"
25. LCD Soundsystem - "Sound Of Silver"
24. Scraps Of Tape - "This Is A Copy, Is This A Copy?"
23. The Shins - "Wincing The Night Away"
22. Blonde Redhead - "23"
21. Rilo Kiley - "Under The Blacklight"
20. El Ten Eleven - "Every Direction Is North"
19. Infected Mushroom - "Vicious Delicious"
18. The Good Life - "Help Wanted Nights"
17. August Burns Red - "Messengers"
16. 65daysofstatic - "The Destruction Of Small Ideas"
15. Caspian - "The Four Trees"
14. Feist - "The Reminder"
13. Battles - "Mirrored"
12. Explosions In The Sky - "All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone"
11. Between The Buried And Me - "Colors"

10. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog (Sub Pop)
You've probably heard Iron & Wine before. Sam Beam's finger-picked, soft-spoken acoustic folk anthems have been seemingly everywhere since "Such Great Heights" (a Postal Service cover) was featured on the soundtrack to the movie Garden State. Let me tell you this though: You've never heard Iron & Wine like this. Beam has finally produced a flawless folk record. Now featuring a full band, as well as a fair amount of experimental instrumentation, "The Shepherd's Dog" marks another step forward on the time line in Iron & Wine's successful, and hopefully long, career. To realize and appreciate the full extent of this transformation, you will need to listen to both "The Creek Drank The Cradle" and "Our Endless Numbered Days" (Iron & Wine's last two full-length releases). Actually, just buy all of his records. Really.

9. Eluvium - Copia (Temporary Residence Limited)
Portland's own Eluvium (Matthew Cooper) never ceases to amaze me. With such simple progressions and minimal instrumentation (either piano, strings, or guitar generated tape loops), Eluvium has now fully founded a rich, atmospheric type of post rock experimental (with some nods to artists such as Richard James and Brian Eno) that is, to say the least, entrancing. "Copia" is definitely the most accessible of his records; so if you haven't heard it yet, make sure to listen.

8. Gogol Bordello - Super Taranta!
The most energetic, sporadic, rambunctious, and surreal dose of 'tasteful' debauchery I've ever heard. Less punk than their breakthrough record "Gypsy Punks Underdog World Strike" but not lacking any of its predecessors energy, "Super Taranta!" will get you screaming, dancing, wailing, and making a general ruckus! I mean, come on, it's gypsy punk!

7. Stars Of The Lid - Their Refinement Of The Decline (Kranky)
Kings of drone rock and ambient experimental, Stars Of The Lid have seemed to abandoned their noisy loops and tape hiss for a cleaner approach to simple oscillating sound waves. Much like their 2001 album, "The Tired Sounds Of Stars Of The Lid", their 2007 release is comprised of lengthy passages of minimalistic strings, piano, and other classical instruments. Moving along like a soundtrack to a night drive or a Texas-based inspirational football movie (think Explosions In The Sky, but even more epic), "Their Refinement Of The Decline" is exactly what is states: finding perfect refinement in a world of music so quickly going down the drain.

6. The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible (Merge)
Oh, the indie darlings! After I first heard The Arcade Fire's "Funeral" a few years ago, I immediately spouted some comparisons to Talking Heads and Echo And The Bunnymen. No, really. It's so much MORE than that!

Easily one of the most anticipated albums of the year for the indie scene, "Neon Bible" only pushes the driving force that is The Arcade Fire closer to world dominance. This band is that good. Multiple violin players, a glockenspiel, and the use of a children's choir will do that to you. Notably life-changing tracks include "Intervention", "Windowsill", and "No Cars Go".

So, don't believe the hype. The Arcade Fire is actually BETTER than the hype.

5. Radiohead - In Rainbows (N/A)
Right when everyone thought they were going to have to wait yet another year for a new album from Radiohead, "In Rainbows" was dropped right into our laps. Let's get this out of the way first: They let you pay whatever you want for the record. Leave it to one of the greatest rock bands of our generation to pull that out of their hats. Releasing the record independently through the internet (way to embrace the digital revolution!), Radiohead kicked the record industry right in the shin.

The record is absolutely incredible. It is comprised mostly of material that has been played live before, but the best has been picked out of the crowd for us and made 'pretty' for this forty-five minute long production. "Nude" is a wonderful track to check out if you aren't already going out to buy this record because it's RADIOHEAD.

4. Bright Eyes - Cassadaga (Saddle Creek)
It's quite a hard feat to follow up a double record, especially when one of them happens to have been the turning point in your entire career. After the masterpiece that was "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning", Bright Eyes turns once again to it's more folk, blues, and country roots to produce a, well, 'concept' album like no other. "Cassadaga" preaches the importance of both life and death, and the natural cycle that both have in the world around us; Oberst continues to contribute his shaking vocal styling and remarkable poetry, and conducts a growing orchestra of musicians around him besides. Buy this record. Now.

3. Idiot Pilot - Wolves (Reprise)
Idiot Pilot has definitely taken a huge step in the right direction. Without straying from their originality and total indifference when it comes to 'logical' pop melody and 'catchy' structure, Michael Harris and Daniel Anderson have crossed into a darker, more mature soundscape that allows 'Wolves' to speak for itself (instead of having Anderson scream for it).

What "Wolves" might be lacking in tension and power (a trademark of earlier-"Strange We Should Meet Here"-era Idiot Pilot), it replaces with sonic greatness. Each track flies at the speed of light - through the night sky and across oceans - tumbling and twisting and dancing along perfectly executed electronic elements, powerful percussion, and Harris' impressive vocals.

2. The Dear Hunter - Act II: The Meaning Of, and All Things Regarding Ms. Leading (Triple Crown)
Continuing exactly where "Act I" left off (pick that record up as well, while you're at it), "Act II" of the Ms. Leading story embarks on another journey of soaring orchestration and raw elegance. Casey Crescenzo, lead every-man and former member of The Receiving End Of Sirens, has once again amazed us. The fusion of symphonic elements, basic rock instrumentation, and vocal layering has created something outside the normal boundaries of progressive rock (as defined in modern prog by such bands as The Mars Volta). The production and performance are flawless.

The lyrics and emotions displayed for the listener seem, at some points, almost too youthful and naive, but generally the power behind Crescenzo's statements are what make the greatest impression. This is the kind of record most artists would die to make.

Let's all hope to hear an "Act III" in the near future; I recommend listening to "Act I" and "Act II" sequentially for the fullest experience.

1. Stars - In Our Bedroom After The War (Arts & Crafts)
As expected, Canadian synth-pop orchestra Stars' follow up to 2004's "Set Yourself On Fire" was, to put it lightly, spectacular. "In Our Bedroom After The War" is a beautifully crafted, brilliantly woven journey; lyrics and lush symphonies combine to create a unique world you must see (or hear) to believe.

I think a lot of people went straight into this album expecting "Set Yourself On Fire" (mind you that "Set Yourself On Fire" is one of the most brilliant pop records ever made). If you are one of these people who believe that nothing could surpass their earlier records, then think again. If you have never heard of Stars before, then shame on you. This album contains a depth and lasting resonance of hope, beauty, inspiration, and love that I can not even begin to explain. There's no way to put it into words. You just have to listen.

Moments On A Painted Landscape

2007-11-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

The first time you feel wet sand curl around your toes at the ocean.
Running towards a wave, and then running away, not understanding its power.

The fire of the earth spreading across the horizon come six o'clock on a New Mexican fall day.
Watching shafts of light dance like fingertips over the edges of a cliff.

The first time you knew you were in love, and the second, and the third.
Those eyes, those bewitching eyes, and the history preplanned to be played out on a stage.
The curve of your hand against a loved one's waist, and the shuddering thought of its loss.

Why do we fear to touch? When we get older?

The first time you went with your family to the movies; the smell of popcorn and sticky floors.
Waiting and waiting, asking 'what time is it?', waiting for the movie to begin.
Take us to a new world!

A day in July with a sky so blue you think you've never seen blue before.
Not this blue...
Firecrackers, the smell of a carnivals and fairs, and the sounds of unbridled freedom.

Crawling into your parents' bed at night after experiencing a fear you can not explain.

The smell of burning firewood, and the trails of wind the leaves make in October.
We are all so warm and loved huddled inside our shelters.
Running wild and so unlike ourselves when the moon is out.

The first time you said 'I love you', and the last time it was reciprocated with honesty.
Betrayal, and lessons learned.

These are moments on a painted landscape.

Countless Hours To Come

2007-09-22T21:14:00.000-07:00

Something is happening to the world around me
I look at how far all these people I know have come, and I wonder how far I myself have come
I see pictures of childhood friends grown to the age of marriage
It makes me feel old, It makes me feel older than I'd like to feel
There are so many people I used to know and see every day of my life for years
Now I don't know much about them
These people have amazing lives, so where does that leave me?
If someone stepped back and saw me, would they like what they see?

The people I never wanted to stop being around are gone
They have new friends, new faces, new dreams in new places
They have grown to become men and women, when I still feel like I child
I do not know where to begin
Most smiles seem more real now than they did back then
There is more life behind them, more experience, more things to smile about
That is beautiful, really.

Everyone is going towards something greater
Some people's paths fit the standard of standard living better than others
I miss that sometimes; I miss having a plan
Instead of waking up on the brink of my sanity every single day
Instead of waking up and thinking that nothing has changed
This is not real to me; this is just the most elaborate play I've ever performed

When the curtain falls, I'll meet her backstage
I'll play songs on my acoustic guitar that I wrote for her
I'll drive through windy canyons on winding roads with the friends that haunt my dreams
We'll laugh, and laugh, and laugh
And through the static of the radio, and the moment differences between our words and our smiles
I will find comfort in the silence.

I miss having days and days to express how I felt.
I miss having weeks, and weekends, and days to count.
I miss knowing that even though we could only be together for an hour today, there are countless hours to come
And I miss the wind and it's playfulness as it blows in the car window and through every part of me.

"Lately, I've been accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelops me
Each time I go out and walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus -

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees,
Peeking into her own clasped hands."

- Leroi Jones, "Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note"

Marble...

2007-05-20T09:34:00.001-07:00

That always happens when I eat the worm.

Lady Godiva's Operation.

2007-02-27T17:47:00.000-07:00

Blinded by passing seconds and the endless babble of the world around me - whether it be under the influence of some intoxicating situation or sure that the point of waking up and operating a simple, normal life has been lost in the fog - I wonder 'why'. Vague and nauseous. Sure that the end is near.

I spend no time in my house. My house is simply my house - nothing more. My home has yet to be discovered again. I sleep in my bed, I eat the occasional disgust of dry noodles or canned vegetables, and then I trek from here to work and back again. Cycling in succession - even days of randomness and unplanned activity seemed forced and unnecessary. What am I trying to say? What the fuck am I even trying to say?

Today I will force music out of my tired hands. Today I will force conversations with long distance friends. Today I will skip out on the unusual and opt for the boring world. Today I will stop doubting that things can only get better. I feel angry and trapped. I feel distant and lost. I feel labeled with angst and sick with a disease of teenage weblogging. Today I can't get away, and this, I am quite certainly tired of.

Not wanting to talk. Not wanting to communicate. Not wanting to answer the endlessly ringing phone. Not wanting to even bother. Not knowing what to even bother with. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating.

So, is there a cure for this? Is there a way to look past sleep and rub the last few seconds of dreams from my eyes? Which way to finally start living life again?

One Day I'll Fail To Breathe, And All You'll Have Is Memories

2006-12-30T23:25:00.001-07:00

So tomorrow I brave the treacherous battlefield of PDX, and hopefully return safe-and-sound at Denver International in the early afternoon with just enough time to bring in the New Year. 2007 seems like an exciting year already - dreams and aspirations fueling my perseverance and determination. The endless roads of where my life could head in the next few months is almost too much - "it's enough to make a man explode". I just have to take a deep breath, keep my eyes open, and remember to go with the Hoppus. Oh yes, 2006. You were quite the comedian.

Since I will probably either be too tired or far too deep into the celebrations tomorrow night, I will be dedicating this double feature of a blog to old man Time and anyone who survived this last chaotic year. Imagine it now: The marquee reads "ONE NIGHT ONLY" and spotlights etch across the starry sky. Thousands upon thousands flock to the velvet red carpet to reserve their seat for the greatest show of the next year: 2007! The two-thousandth and seventh year since somebody claimed a beatific infant was brought into the world aside three wise men and an assortment of barnyard animals! This calls for some sort of celebration! We've created a holiday and stolen a calendar system from the Romans! The world is blessed!

As joking aside, the lights lower and the curtain goes up on the events of your past year. A movie clip montage from the Academy Awards of the good, bad, and terribly anarchistic moments of the past year! Mine would display as follows - using a simple list and some generic keywords:

Champagne from a paper cup, white lights over bare branches, letters from a long lost love, a mix tape and hot tea on my bedroom floor, writing beginnings but never endings, a black hat and a trip to Wendy's, linguine and passion, Topper Revue and 'Kings Of The Land Of Crunk', a state wide trip fueled by Christopher Walken and The Alan Sparhawk Project, the final days of Olions, so freed the chains of Los Alamos High School, my imminent defeat, traveling across the country, Kings at Ian's, Panic! At The Phix, playing on a run down guitar at the "Hot Monkey Love Cafe", drunk concert goers and cries of 'Maaaarrrrrbbbbbllllleeeee....', tapioca balls and strange looks, Happy Hollow and too much Katamari, Friday The 13th for the Nintendo Entertainment System, Godspeed records and doorbells on back doors, and an exhausting trip...

The Diner and the sounds of 'socials' from Miss Casey, letting go, falling victim to some sick cosmic game, a gigantic step forward into Colorado, elusive Comcast buildings and Byron, Cursive live, drunken Uno and resulting delirium, Patrick Swayze, multiple coats, Boulder and Marb at 5 AM, stuck in the snow, a fateful day, may Kasher be with you, the degradation of my sanity, Jean's tattoo, the Plus 44 show, long days and some Spicy Pickle, meeting the one-and-only Lexi, a 'sexy party', Regina Spektor and my family in Oregon, and then...

With an epic crash of cymbals, the music cuts short. And then? And then what? What will I find in this next day? What will I experience when I wake up and go on with my life as I have been doing for the last three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? Everything. Nothing has been left out. I will watch the New Year come and go with the same sweet nostalgia - the same blinding sparklers - and the same pop of champagne. This 'new beginning' will undoubtedly...begin. Just like planned. Time will continue it's endless march. I will not be different, nor the same come midnight tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will know that much more about the world. Myself. My life. I will know that much more about the people around me - the frivolities and drunken inconsistencies aside. I will know that much more about how I feel about...everything. How I feel about these new songs....how I feel about Thea...how I feel about being able to always start a Chapter One but never, ever finish.

This must be it. Welcome to the New Year.

Bailamos A Oscuras

2006-12-29T23:42:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm here in my family's apartment for another day - the continuing joke that is the Denver International Airport and the smiting of God's snowy hand upon it has left me deadlocked without point or purpose. I will probably be returning to Denver the day after next; hopefully the apartment is not/was not on fire. At least it's comforting to know that no one has released the creature. Yet.

I've had a lot of fun here in Salem, don't get me wrong. It was so unbelievably great to be with my family - spend time with everyone and get back to how I grew up. I love seeing my sisters - reciting fun movie lines, making stupid jokes, just being weird all-around - and I hope I fill my position of 'little brother' good enough for the time being. I love seeing my parents - I get to spend more time with my dad now because of his new job, and I think that now - after my senior year, graduation, band stress, and much more - my mom can relax a little bit (I'm such a fuss, I know). Also, being able to just sit alone and think to myself has been great. Just relaxing - watching movies, playing games, playing guitar and writing songs - all things I thought I could do back in Denver, but are so much different here. It's been a great time.

I do hope to return in time for a joyous celebration of the New Year, which I have decided in an off-hand sort of way is my favorite holiday. There's some aura that sparkles so slightly in that one night. The atmosphere is warm even when it's freezing. Whether it has been the somewhat crazy events of Fabry's annual get together - something about 'death sauce' and David Byrne - or champagne from a paper cup on a couch in Zac's shed - listening to Ryan produce loud, drunken sounds from his guitar and spending the last seconds of the year 2005 in the air. Whatever it is, the memory of New Years itself always compares to the mass accumulation of memories from the year before. It always sticks with me until the next year rolls around. It allows me to do what I'm doing right now - reminisce and swell with nostalgia.

Who knows where I will find myself at the end of this year? In the basement of my drummer's house discussing Freud and how humans open bananas wrong? Snowed in at my apartment with Tyler and Dustin listening to our perfectly selected soundtracks? Will I be spending the last draining seconds on the phone with someone...anyone...spilling my soul? In the immortal words of The Chemical Brothers...

"Where do I start? Where do I begin?"

Somewhere beneath a vanilla sky. Somewhere sitting on the couch between a girl I've never met and my grandfather discussing literature. I'll be back to playing croquet at lunch breaks and believing what I write. I'll find myself somewhere solving mysteries with Nancy Drew, or turning Japanese. I'll finally board those fateful clouds I spoke of in years past - the last liner to cross the starry expanse. I'll jump so high I never come down. I'll drag out the 'olde' record player and dance the twist and mamba to the sounds of The Beatles and Tim Kasher. I'll list inconsistencies and impossibilities with great ease - laugh at my own humor - and make a toast to that brand new day. I am so excited; I can't even express it.

We'll be dancing in the dark.

We'll be flying like trapeze artists.

We will not be afraid.

The History Books

2006-12-28T02:36:00.000-07:00

I spent my day in solitary confinement; all for my own good. My throat has calmed down a bit, and now all that remains is my innate case of insomnia and a piercing headache that only knocks at the edge of my skull when I stand up. The day was filled with the consumption of water, Patricia Arquette, and bell tones of a 'G' note ringing through my head (no matter how I play that back, I won't be able to find that perfect note I'm looking for). I need casette tape and a cup of coffee. Now.

I tried to put my thoughts on hiatus for today - tried to hold back from letting anything disturb this serene sense of 'nothingness' that has glazed over the pain in my head - but to no avail. I found my tired mind drawn back to here (even though my words are sparse and I feel empty of things to say). My glasses sit precariously on the end of my nose, and my fingers bleed softly from the endless fiddlings of my musical obsessions. I discovered once again that twelve-string guitars are both physically and mentally exhausting.

So, what do I babble now? A senseless list of my invisible scheduling for the next few, uneventful days? I will attempt to regain my head. I will be flying back - Flight 792 - to Denver on December 30th (weather permitting; nature seems to playing a cruel game with the citizens of Colorado). I will either spend an uneventful New Years here in Salem, or I will be spending an uneventful (but probably intoxicated) New Years back home with Locke and Jean. I will attempt to finally finish writing down what's been floating around in my head. I will attempt to find a new four-track. I will wish it into existence! That is my dream!

My thoughts have wandered like jazz - playing hopscotch over the ebony and ivory keys of this seemingly silent piano. I have thought of her. I have not thought of her. I have searched my maps endlessly for the right way out, but I have failed. I have flipped the switch of every light in every room of my house - looking for some warmth or enlightenment in every corner. I have watched my phone ring away - not even bothering to pick it up let alone see who has called. I have planned my attack - placed my troops. I have perfected all the language I need. I have stumbled through the meaning I've once held, but now lost. I'm reading something about a beet.

"Somedays aren't yours at all;
They come and go as if they're someone elses days.
They come and leave you behind someone elses face."

I kept flipping on the computer today for no apparent reason. Every time - wandering with a sense of aimlessness, yet fierce with a sense of programmed action. It's like I was expecting something to happen. I was expecting something horrible - or something fantastical - to find it's way to me via this endless expanse we call the internet. My "friends" are a click away. My memories are recorded in an efficient, time-saving self-recording calendar archive. Our entire world teeters on the edges of our search engines and our news sites; every breath turned into nothing more than: "01110011 01101001 01100111 01101000".

I wanted something drastic to happen. My connections to sever - for those enticing red and blue banners (screaming 'NEW MESSAGES!' and 'NEW FRIEND REQUESTS!') to flash in seizures. I wanted some lost soul - someone living behind a name and a painted face - to sacrifice their pride for their honesty. I wanted something inside these electric light parades - these interconnected expanses of information bubbling over in an ever-boiling melting pot - to become human. To feel the way we feel. To dream the way we dream. I always wonder how I can never get across my thoughts the way I truly mean them - I wonder why the electric impulses in my brain cannot be duplicated and translated into a computer's electric impulses. I wonder how much our mechanics can differ from that which stands before me (recording my fingers and their movements, but never really getting my real message across). When will we discover the possibilities, and watch ourselves be destroyed?

That's one for the history books.
Please God, save us from our digital apocalypse.

Ghosts

2006-12-27T02:39:00.000-07:00

Alexis made a good point this evening. I'm scaring everyone away.

I've fallen into the perfect trap; a trap that allows me to be hurt in one direction, or hurt in another. It's hard enough to stay standing in this endless battle for someone who cares - someone who can share that unique connection. I'm pitted against my comrads for that feeling of completion - that missing link that holds our brittle beings to that abstract concept called 'love'. It's hard enough to raise our flags in triumph, let alone survive the violence of process.

Now, I have been all but chained - bound and gagged - an open target and a useless opponent. The dark ring that once laid around my finger hangs like a noose around my neck; that ring that once kept my heart in contract to Alexandra. I might as well give up right now - the results are in. I have no place in trying to 'feel' again - I am expected to realize my mistakes and suffer for eternity in return. Thanks for the fucking benefit. I couldn't be more thankful.

Who is plotting these chess moves against me? Who is trying harder than ever to kick the sand in my face and tell me to 'stay down'? I'm sick of not being able to actually fucking live my life because of the ghosts of my past. Whether or not they still haunt me and keep me awake at night, I am expected to tell the same spooky stories over and over again for the tourists to hear (wide-eyed and unaware). I wish these ghosts could lash out in a proper fashion I could only dream of - ghastly screams, the sound of plates and wine glasses shattering against the floor, blood running endlessly down the walls like that famous Stanley Kubrick movie - is this too much to ask? A little stage show for my suffering?

I have just realized my fate. I should've realized all of this awhile ago - wondering why I was never good enough now; getting down on myself for not being able to catch the eye of anyone in interest. It could've made a lot of this easier. It could've made me lose the useless drive I have with dignity. Now I stand cold and alone in the middle of the stage - the audience silent - waiting for the line that was never written let alone memorized. Improv. Do something.

"...I give up."

Exit stage right. Curtain drawn. Silence. My tombstone was written the day she let me go. My epitaph reads loud and clear - 'stay away'. I am not deserving of a hopeful heart; I am simply the ball and chain to faces long gone. That fateful love letter or aging photograph that the few who tried show to their grandkids - "now, he was different".

I feel like crying. And not because I'm alive.

Is It Possible That All This Magic Went Unnoticed?

2006-12-26T01:27:00.000-07:00

Happy Holidays; as said before. I hope everyone's day went better than planned - smooth sailing and the makings of great memories. That's not where I want to take this rambling of thoughts at all though - I'm not trying to disregard the present Christmastime feeling or anything, I just want to get out what's firing off in my head. That is just not where I want to take this at all.

I'm sitting here looking at frozen caricatures of so many people I grew up with - or grew into the person I am now - and am writing the next chapters in their life in my head. Some novel of their future - planned out like a diagram of acts and scenes in my mind. I see the people I used to know extremely well within their new, cinematic lives - real estate agents, housewives, lawyers, famous Broadway actresses, teachers - some of them unhappy, some of them content. I can see them living by their religions - by their ideas of 'fate' - by the sideways breath of the wind. It's a jumbling puzzle of a portrait unfinished; each piece the missing color to completing a vision of wonderment.

I examine the timeline of my twising friendships - seeing how people have moved away or grown to hate me or a million and one other things that could possibly denote 'change'. I know that most of the portrait of me left for everyone to fill in with their own brushes is strange and unfamiliar. The person I am described as - this person I supposed 'am' or 'were' - is foreign and sometimes a little too much to bear. This person treats people in ways I didn't even know could be considered. This person thinks in ways that would make any lunatic or deranged mind look like a peaceful meadow of serenity. This is not who I ever was; how could people even see that? Even through shadows and out of the corners of their eye?

What do I see through the letterboxing of my waking life? What exists for interpretation behind those black bars? Is it some hidden subtitle - explaining to everyone exactly what to see and what to think? I miss everyone thinking based off the face value of things - learning to get to know someone by asking questions and giving greetings, not by listening to endless storytelling or gossip. I cannot even begin to say I know who these people are - these very familiar faces - anymore now than I could any stranger on the streets of Denver. I wish them all the best.

"I wish I could transform my days into paint-by-number portraits

A display of simple cut and paste; Creativity without real taste
So life, like art, is just a waste; But yet we still wake up each day...

The bedroom's fresh with summer paint; a palette left to gather dust
The smell makes dreams like cheap Monet
A copy made without a frame; But it was worth is when we sang...
'A vision true will make us saved!'

And we breathe in deep vermillion, and we stain our days with gold
And the blacks and whites are chipping
We'll spend our forest green to forget what we've really lost

Fingerprints of red and blue; We taste the oils when we kiss
A cocktail made of me and you; Where everything we touch we lose
But at least I have your body still...
You recognize this poison, don't you?

Our love's unfinished canvas, and the rent's far overdue
And breathing isn't living
The songs don't sell, so I'll give them truth in a different hue."

- Borderline Angelic "Starving Artist"

Some faces I do not want to have to end the story in the middle of a sentence. Some certain people's smiles make it worth it to keep wondering. A simple keyhole into certain people's lives makes it worth it to keep writing my mental novels. I still have some hope that the story won't ever reach the last page. It keeps me close to them even though I'm now so far away. There are so many people that I want to see again - if just, for any reason, to sketch their new lines and color their hidden backgrounds.

The Christmas Cliché

2006-12-25T00:11:00.000-07:00

It's that special night - that night before Christmas that all the special songs and poems are written about. This is the night where, as a kid, I could never get much sleep at all. I'd be tired and sleepy, but my heart would keep pounding like a knocking at the door - "wake up, you idiot! wake up!". This was when I used to go to bed at nine o'clock. Now it is plainly later, and I still find myself awake - this time to the beat of the keyboard keys instead of my heart.

It's weird how many traditions have been abandoned in my family as I grow up. I don't feel disappointed or upset about it - it's just how things have progressed as I've gotten older. This year especially stands out from the rest - being in a new place completely. In years past, I would count down the days impatiently until Christmas. In newer history, I would exchange my loving remarks and gifts with Madeline. Now, Christmas just jumped upon me. Only forty minutes until that "big day". I used to yearn for Christmas break - pray for snow - wonder endlessly about those glistening boxes under the tree. Now, I pass the few days before the 25th walking around in overcast Salem, listening to music, and spilling my thoughts about love, life, and my mind onto this journal.

So many things on top of so many things. I talked to Madeline for the first time in a long time - expressing how much I missed talking to her, and remarking on how years past have definitely made a difference. I talked to Melissa for a short period of time - just called to ask her how she's been - I didn't even have the chance to wish her a happy holiday. I talked to Dustin today - just as he was waking up - but didn't get the chance to ask him how things were going and what he was thinking about. I've kind of isolated the majority of myself from the world - this about the biggest outlet I have at the moment.

I can not reveal my true nature until the time is right.

I guess all I'm trying to really get at tonight is...these holidays (whatever they are for anyone out there - Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Atheist Gift Giving Day, etc.) really have a way of changing us. In a beam of light - far from the gray cold of December days - we have opened ourselves to our friends, family, and loved ones. We allow ourselves to be molded even more in these few weeks than in most parts of our lives. I think Kyle said it best earlier tonight: "Don't just let tomorrow be your one day of celebration and giving...make every day that way!"

We don't really give ourselves the credit of celebrating our lives - we get these great (don't mistake me; they really are great) excuses to show how much everyone means to us, how much the world means to us, and how much we mean to ourselves - but we forget to even dance on the idea the other three-hundred-and sixty-some days of the year we're not celebrating one thing or another. Well I say, dance like it's already 2008! Give gifts in April! Drink to yourself for your birthday four times a year! Remember what it's like to be with a loved one - not just on February 14th - but every day you are with them! Do not take this time for granted.

We might not have a second chance.

Happy Holidays, Happy Christmas, and Love Always.

Ready For The End Of The World Special?

2006-12-23T18:07:00.000-07:00

We interrupt the regular blogging to bring along this special post from Murder Murderer Love Inc. The end of 2006 is growing near - the double digits of days are slowly growing to an end - and 2007 will be here in the wink of an eye. This can only mean one thing...

Yes, it is that time again to countdown the top fifty music releases from this past year. 2006 was an excellent year for new music - from both old favorites and completely new artists. It took me forever to compile my list right, but here is what my final fifty comes down to:

50. The Dresden Dolls - Yes, Virginia
49. The Thermals - The Body, The Blood, The Machine
48. Mastodon - Blood Mountain
47. The Dirty Dozen Brass Band - What's Going On
46. The Blood Brothers - Young Machetes
45. The Who - Endless Wire
44. Sufjan Stevens - The Avalanche
43. Xiu Xiu - The Air Force
42. Roseanne Cash - Black Cadillac
41. Wolfmother - Wolfmother

40. The Gotan Project - Lunatico
39. Now It's Overhead - Dark Light Daybreak
38. Christina Aguilera - Back To Basics
37. Copeland - Eat, Sleep, Repeat
36. The Album Leaf - Into The Blue Again
35. Placebo - Meds
34. The Black Keys - Magic Potion
33. Beck - The Information
32. TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
31. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
30. Mates Of State - Bring It Back

29. Cat Power - The Greatest
28. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Show Your Bones
27. Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins - Rabbit Fur Coat
26. Built To Spill - You In Reverse
25. Deftones - Saturday Night Wrist
24. Band Of Horses - Everything All The Time
23. The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers
22. Sparklehorse - Dream For Light Years In The Belly Of A Mountain
21. Plus 44 - When Your Heart Stops Beating

20. Neil Young - Living With War
19. Muse - Black Holes And Revelations
18. My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade
17. The Knife - Silent Shout
16. Set Your Goals - Mutiny! (tied with) The Hush Sound - Like Vines
15. Incubus - Light Grenades
14. Thom Yorke - The Eraser
13. Brand New - The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me
12. The Flaming Lips - At War With The Mystics
11. Belle & Sebastian - The Life Pursuit

10. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
9. The Mars Volta - Amputechture
8. Mogwai - Mr. Beast
7. Fear Before The March Of Flames - The Always Open Mouth
6. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Stadium Arcadium
5. Tool - 10,000 Days
4. Sparrows, Swarm And Sing! - Oh Shenandoah, Mighty Death...
3. Swan Lake - Beast Moans
2. Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope
1. Cursive - Happy Hollow

2006 was pretty wild; a whole variety of great music. Of course, I have my own personal bias (just as Bright Eyes will probably in the top five for 2007), but that's why this is MY top 50 list. A lot of other top 100 lists didn't even include some of the albums I liked, but that's just how it is. I hope you find some stuff you agree with, and some stuff you didn't catch in the last year. If so, go out and do some shopping!

Edit: I added The Hush Sound's "Like Vines" to the list because I obviously don't keep very good records about album releases...it's tied for 16th with Set Your Goals' "Mutiny!" (because I couldn't find anything I could've booted down or off the list). It's also been added because...because...WWJD?

A Statue Of Us

2006-12-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

I have decided that I am going to marry Regina Spektor. I have no problem with believing this. Can anyone see a problem with this? Other than we've never met and a million other guys probably want to propose to her?

"We have seen how each and every second,
We must chain our hearts down.
Or else we will become ghosts,
Or beasts or traitors to ourselves."

I had both an illuminating and destructive conversation with Alexandra tonight. The conversation trailed in circles - leaving nothing untouched but also nothing fixed. I watched the final strains of my hope slip over the cliff's edge, and let go of the chain in my heart to let it sink down into the dark sea. I used to think that maybe we both held hope for the future - that this was simply temporary. That the pain of losing eachother's care - eachother's romantic relationship is a better way to put it - would be a short hiatus from a fantasy. Well, I was wrong on so many fronts.

She hasn't let go of me - she hasn't stopped caring - if I can't be anything more than her friend, than I can't be anything at all. She doesn't want to hope for a further relationship. She doesn't want to even think about us being together. She doesn't want anything but to stay focused on her direct goals and pursuing her dreams one-hundred percent. Now that I write that down, it doesn't seem that bad. At the time, hearing it over the phone - it sounded like a million and one knives scattering across the floor and finding their perfect place in their rehearsed spots all over my body. A death by perfect symphonic stabbing.

All I know is I have to stop wondering about this. I have to stop thinking about this. All I'm doing is dragging myself down, when really I should be lifting myself up. This is my life, and she has hers. They might meet again - on a completely off hand chance, call it fate or coincidence - or they might not. I can't stop being alive until then. I won't.

I need to start finding out what I can do next - I'm so sick of making these plans without completion. I have so much that I really want to do - finish writing the songs I've been writing for far too long, start singing with my words instead of just my voice, realize it's okay to write the raw and the real instead of the typical poetry, dance often, take my world - my music - that one step farther...this list could go on and on. There is so much waiting for me when I return.

...And on December 28th, my planes filled the sky. The return of J.R. Daniel...Citizen Dildo.

I will make my life what I've been dreaming of. I will reach that desired goal - our songs on the radio, the late-night interviews, the shows where everyone knows every lyric to every one of your god damn songs. I will be able to sit back a year from now - recording in the studio with the band - saying, "well, this is interesting". VH1 will have a fucking fit. I will also write my anti-folk and marry Miss Spektor. I couldn't have it any other way.

Christmas Day approaches quickly - the days pile quickly on top of eachother - buried in my written words. I am really quite excited to see Christmas come and go - reassurance that I'm still alive and time has still not stopped for anyone. I am ecstatic to watch the hands turn and the pages fly. I'm another word to describe "anxious". I barely use the Thesaurus anymore; it never seems to have the real word I'm looking for.

And how.

The Sexyback Receipt

2006-12-21T23:12:00.000-07:00

Tonight's blog is that of wonder! Mystery! Suspense! Another typical tag word for a 1950's drive-in horror flick! That one movie with the praying mantis was good, or maybe "The Creature From The Black Lagoon". Maybe I'll just include Boris Karloff with a flat head and bolts within my ramblings to spruce things up a bit. I think the only real mystery here is how I can bring myself to open up this so-called 'journal' so frequently (three nights in a row now...tsk, tsk) and record my psuedo-philisophical stories. It might be because...I believe I'm somewhat proud of it.

Today I learned that a movie whose entire point is to animate dancing penguins for an hour and a half can't be that bad. I also learned that elephant seals are gruff and ill tempered. Who knew.

Now, I'm back sitting here. I kind of feel peculiar now. My entire body down to my bones has been ancy without purpose. I feel uneasy. Wandering from room to room in my parent's apartment - finding nothing and then turning around to circle again. Mindless even. I've been throwing around ideas and insecurties in my head all evening - not getting anywhere. I wish I could pinpoint why I feel this way exactly.

I tossed and turned last night in bed, as well as in my skin this morning - tumbling over the uses of the letter 'X', bad analogies, planned conversations, clever timing, and why Omaha seems to be the home to so many neurotic geniuses. I picked up my phone all day to try and push myself to calling. I even got close a couple of times. On the other hand, for a brief moment, I did talk to Alexandra. It's so hard to say 'I love you' and hear a straight 'goodbye' back. This could be the cracking underneath my feet - it's hard to say. Can you hear it too?

No, not cracking. The ice has completely separated - leaving us floating like those silly CG penguins on our own personal islands. I don't even pretend to have any hope anymore; at least not for right now. It's hard to ask anything of her right now - she has her goals and life dreams - her decided path. She also has a knack for never including me on her list of important things. I feel so stupid now; I'm in the middle of what I promised not to do to myself anymore: hold on, drowning. I mean, I'm following around the threads of this relationship like a lost puppy - unable to let go due to a lack of closure. Argh. Yes, with a 'G'! For utter disgust and frustration!

Well, at least I hold divine faith in what the future could bring.

In my brief conversation with her, I tried to explain how I really like the New Year holiday. It's not because of any silly physical event - this night ends, a whole new year begins - that's just simple logic; no real reason to celebrate. What New Years means to me is a sickly sweet nostalgia - the kind I could only eat that one night before I would get sick of it. I like seeing New Years as my time for a slideshow of memories. Plus, it reminds me directly of silver plastic stars, glitter, and champagne. Which, in my opinion, is always means a good time. I'm definitely looking forward to that blog entry - oh, how I love those movie-montage-esque streams of consciousness!

Tomorrow: set my goals (insert unnecessary music joke), make some plans, wrap some presents, and generally sit around waiting for internet communication between me and snowed in friends. Sounds like a jolly time. Until then!

Head For The Hills

2006-12-21T00:45:00.000-07:00

Well, not much to update in the sense of my personal exploration or experiences today in the real world - I walked around downtown Salem today with my mom and sisters and explored the deepest niches of it's streets - eateries, booksellers, an apothecary, and an excellent record shop. Otherwise, I played 3D-blacklit golf among family and pirates (taking fourth place) and am currently enthralled (but obviously, not really) in taking in the three-hour long epic, "Titanic" (which, curiously, I haven't seen in almost a decade). There's not much more to say about today except a boat is sinking and Leo DiCaprio is hanging on for dear life while floating on a friggin' door. Ah, Hollywood. You jest.

"Give him the necklace, you crazy broad!"

After that "disaster" (hell yes, that's hilarious!), I sit here typing in the dark. Oh, I had the strangest dream last night. Funny I should remember it as "the strangest dream"; funny I should remember it at all. I might have to give this one it's own title (wait for it, I'm concocting it as I type). This dream involved the ghosts of past lived - good memories and short-lived times that I thought (or wished) could last forever. It was like nothing had changed - puzzle pieces and slight reflections of time already lived fell together in a stained glass mosaic of what...I guess, now would be like.

I could feel the breath of the players around me; I could taste the atmosphere that I once knew. The place: a house held together by the foundations of my freshman/sophomore years and pieced together by Picasso-like floorplans. A hallway unrecognized. A window dancing from room to room. The typical fashion of our usual dream states. The people: a love undoubted and a young boy narrating to the tune of jazz standards. This music reverberating through this homely yet empty space, I saw my world spiral out of control and crash land in a gleeful shattering of beauty. I haven't enjoyed dreaming this much in a long time.

On the other hand, I woke up questioning it myself. I wondered, "Why now? Why all of a sudden, I can't seem to keep these thoughts out of my dreams, let alone my waking life?" I also brought up a usual favorite: "...what if?" This ended only in tragedy. I saw no dismissal, yet no conclusion. I saw nothing but a neverending horizon of unanswerable questions that I - daresay it - am forever doomed to ask.

But...even within my topsy-turvy thought process, I still felt lightness over the whole situation. I felt the "maybe" of everything...just...sitting there in the air. It felt warm, and right. Everything did for those few seconds. I've been thinking about those few moments for the rest of the day. It's been with me everywhere I've been - sitting there brewing in the back of my mind.

I'd love to say "why not". I see no problem in fate progressing how I always believed - back then - it would. I see no problem in events tumbling over in a waterfall of chaos, and ending up with the perfect picture. I see no problem in missing one bus, stepping in an unusually optimistic puddle, and then making dinner late to find a completely different person sitting across from me - ready to discuss the wine choice and the latest in musical theatre. My love does wait for me - twirling her fork and tapping her foot to the latest Tony Bennett cover artist at the bar. I hope she's patient.

I hope I'm not alone here - I hope that soul still exists within another. I hope that another knows exactly what I'm talking about - rambling about James Cameron and public transportation. I hope they know exactly where I'm going before I get there. I'm going to make that call, and hopefully I'll be right on time.

Head for the hills, I think I've lost it.

It's Taking Me Home

2006-12-19T21:53:00.000-07:00

So many things have changed. All at once, in a sudden whirlwind of passing months, moving, calendar pages, and lost letters, my life has fell back into position like a cosmic game of Connect Four. I have no idea what direction to face or run to. My compass has run north and south in circles. Since I last rejuvenated the dying horse that was this journal, things were going pretty smoothly for me. I mean, apart from trying to survive the last two months of high school and looking forward to a shaky yet extremely exciting future.

So, yes - things have changed. Right in time for this new year too. I still have many wants and dreams; many goals and aspirations. I haven't changed as a person - other than my hair growing too long and maybe my sleep schedule. I don't know - I just don't feel that different. I'm still this person I've grown to know from conversations in the mirror or over this journal - this kid named Jordan. At least we get along most of time.

I recently (and by recently, I mean in October) moved with the band and some friends up to Denver, Colorado. I've never moved before; I've lived in the same house since as long as I can remember. My childhood house in the hell we call Los Alamos is now occupied by someone I've never even met. I might not miss that place, but I miss that space I called 'home' - my room most of all. So much of my life went on within the walls of that room. Everything from playing with Lego to packing all my memories in boxes at the beginning of my 'new start'.

Denver...has been an interesting experience so far. Still young in our stay, we have run into so much shit that I didn't even know was possible. Yes, the good things are always evident - infinite freedom, a great band, parties all night - but so are the bad things - never having money, shows getting cancelled, scraping for rent. I think Tyler is the one that said, "I have learned more in these two months of living alone that I learned in four years at our stupid high school". We live our lives to a steady soundtrack - discussing the ways of the universe and the properties of love long into the night with Marble and Dustin, planning an explosion of sound and color like I've never seen before with both Tyler and Elise, and journeying along the path (and cliffline) of my life with everyone right by my side.

The summer seems so long ago; losing my Alexandra to the inevitable rising tide. The future as her husband has grown to be nothing more than my own hope and aspiration; a love put on hold indefinitely. This has also put me in a very fragile state - a state where I constantly feel sorry for myself, question the future, and wonder 'why'.

"And strange lonesome monsters loafed through the hills wondering why...and it is best to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever wonder why."

Right now, I'm within these new walls of my family's house in Oregon; I write from the same hands on the very same keyboard that I etched all my silly high school angst and endless teenage turmoil to the page with for years and years. I present something new. Within all this change - within the spiraling path of music, mayhem, and that thing called "love" - I write something different. Contradiction. Confrontation. Opposition. A threat to my heart that this is a war and I am not about to give up.

So, I'll stop feeling sorry for myself. What do I really have to feel sorry for anyway? Yes, I lost the race against love - as always - alright, try again, second place, you almost had it this time. I find that putting a few years of training into myself might do the trick to win her back one day. Yes, I "live like shit and suffer for my art", but I really do like it that way. Yes, I've definitely had some moments; some coughing, screaming, sobbing fits of utter disgust and unbridled anger...but, how I see it...once you've let yourself go, there's nothing more to do than to find yourself again.

That's my goal. That's my dream. In simple terms, still the music, mayhem, and a thing called "love". That's my aspiration. My inspiration as a person - a friend, a lover, a fighter, and most of all, a damn good human being. Welcome again to my life; sit and talk awhile if you like.

- Jordan

75% Of All Statistics Say

2006-03-02T21:16:00.000-07:00

Well, March has come charging around the bend with an air of springtime and a feeling of unbelievble lightness. Carefree and stumbling. It seems it has been so long since I posted in this journal, but my life has been one big topsy-turvy ride for the last couple of weeks: Topper Revue, Alex being here, touring, Festival, starting my senior project, etc. It has become more and more evident every passing day that the end is near; the end of my high school career is just behind the next corner. In a couple of months, I will reach the finish just to find myself at another starting line. What a letdown.

It's like running and running and running...and just never getting anywhere. Things have been chaotic; I haven't been able to look around me and notice that I've been running in circles. I've been too focused on holding in just another breath to take another step without collapsing in defeat. I'm scared and unbearably excited.

A lot of the time I don't know what to do with myself even though I know I have so much that I have to do. A lot of the time I find myself bored and boring - completely and utterly aware that I have no time to waste in apathy. I'm far to busy with a mountain of paperwork - meetings and more meetings - copies of copies - I'm planning the rest of my life in a portfolio. Another piece of paper with a letterhead and fancy signature represents my downfall. Another scrap with a seal of approval marks the day like a calendar. I stare at my future expecting it...to almost just go away. Don't get me wrong; there is nothign I want more than the future. I mean, what able-bodied, red-blooded American teenager doesn't want something other than the boring day-to-day? I'm pining for it; it gets worse every day. Hopefully soon I will wake up and realize...

Where do I begin?

I survived a state wide trip fueled by Panda Express, Suicide Kings, and Alan Sparhawk. I spent a lonely four days in Portales, gathering dust and putting the final pieces of my Olions' memories on the mantle to admire forever. I've spent what seems like years perfecting defeat, only to find that the formula must change. I've spent select hours of spectacular clarity with my like mind; it is so close to perfection to see her and spend time with her. Laughing has become a language. From here on in, things can only get better. More murder. More love.

Today Changes Everything

2006-02-15T17:46:00.000-07:00

What's the difference between a dream and reality? Somewhere between our hands waving through a thick, swirling collection of clouds and unbelievable blends of vivid color, we find our dreams. Somewhere between waking up every morning to an alarm clock at 7:00 AM and watching ourselves in the mirror like robots on display, we find reality. What chaos could erupt if they ever coincided? We are in immediate danger of love breaking out.

So I walk with a smile plastered to my face - painted on like a clown - but ever so genuine. Not fake or forced; just sincere. I can't help it...it courses through my veins so strongly now...like electricity. It is desire destilled and sold. It is power without corruption. Riches without money. Pure. Oh, how refreshing it feels to be pure. To feel something pure. Something raw and unforgiving...yet so gentle and accepting. I'm punch drunk and reeling; sitting down doesn't stop the world from spinning.

The pause of a breath; sometimes it's better to not think. Sometimes it's better to run rampant - this is your life, take it! Hurrah! Hurrah! It is better to be laughable and silly than the feel the cold, hard logic bite at your fingertips. It is better to dance instead of walk. It is better to say 'I love you' than to hold it back. This is your life, take it! Hurrah! Hurrah!

A lot of these feelings are beyond description...beyond limitation...somehow the words slowly sink out of fingertips in bursts of muddled inspiration. "I can barely breathe let alone speak." A million right words teeter on the brink of collapse...a gate of clarity. I know that you don't understand what I mean; that's okay. I don't understand either. I'm not trying to understand. I am so content just falling freely over the waves and passing whirlpools...I floating in harmony for the first time in a long time. How good it feels to not live in discord.

I'm finding a lack of inspiration today; I can't even find the right words to say anything. Maybe more later.

You're The Only Shape I Pray To...

2006-01-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

Touch and go. Stop and start. A million jumpstart conversations. It's so much easier to get the right words out on paper than it is to force them out of my mouth. There is only so much sound I have rationed within unquenchable silence. Singing my message across a canyon made of dusty gold - maybe an echo will reach you. The distance is far too much to swallow; I've filled up on telephone calls and postmarks. Now, when you are close enough to scream your name, no words come. No words will ever come.

It's the substance between the first words I can choke out and the ending punctuation that kills me. I can't carry the weight of my words because I am so scared at what I want to say. I'm so scared to say a lot of things that I have choked back through tears only few years before. Distance might be a barrier. I say we tear it down and hold eachother close in unity. Irgendwann fallt jede Mauer.

I know that I fear losing you.

The oncoming weeks will bring me exhaustion and confusion. Business and endless beginning and completion will scratch a calendar into my skin like anicent practice. So many things to be done. So many things needing to be started. I'm stumbling around the remains of so many ideas; I can not decide where to begin. I'm probably going to start in full force on my screenplay once the Revue is over. Time chokes me.

Even with things that seem so clear and planned inside my dreams, I'm flustered and suffocated with where to begin. What should I do first? What do I have to do first? A million phone calls and messages play out like a game of dominoes in my head. Rentals and money. Exchange and trade. All the while, creativity is forced to flow. Maybe these pressing issues will encourage me to get things done. Maybe deadlines and invisible finish lines will help me on my race towards success. There are so many little reasons behind this project, I don't think I could handle losing them.

To get the words out. To find strength. To hold a finished message. To have the world see. To build friends. To build monumental achievements. To keep her here; yes, to keep her here. To never lose touch. To never become an image in the back of a scrapbook. To never become a ghost. To never let go of the people that will so easily let go of me. To explain; hell, to try and explain. So many reasons. I'm sure I'll be able to bring you all to understand them in time. Maybe I'll bring myself to accept them in time as well. Until then, I'll leave the notions of a wonderful celluoid dream suspended in the 'now we' and 'let's'.

I'll clamor as we raise the curtain.

I Need You So Much Closer

2006-01-23T22:17:00.000-07:00

Okay, so maybe I'm a hopeless romantic. Maybe I'm far too much of a poet at heart; maybe I dance in sonnets and rhyme to endless reason. Maybe I have built too many dreams in frivolity. Maybe I like it that way...I feel myself pulled in every single direction at once. I am on the wall and on the ceiling. I am floating...floating like the angel I've only captured in borderline misinterpretations.

Cinammon red apple. Stunning. Eyes like I've only imagined. Breath-taking. I am the hopeless boy on a hopeless fall. I am autumn in my descent; I am silent and screaming. A laugh that can break you in two. Amazing. You met me at a very strange time in my life. I can almost be free; I can almost talk uninhibited. I can almost forget boundary and release the 'me' I've missed so much.

I find myself struggling for words...I'm almost speechless in my fingertips. I am jumping and crying and breaking down for all the things I've only been able to daydream about. I'm dancing a million moonlit serenades to songs playing in my head - Miles Davis, or some Cole Porter - and I'm pulling myself together and picking myself apart. I am my mind searching for words and only pulling out a million repeating sentences. Oh, silly questions. So many silly questions.

I find myself on a Candyland maze of step forward and back - once again, my fate is decided by a fucking card with another color on it. I find myself pacing around in my head. This distance seems farther than ever before. My romanticism falters. I find myself trying to be creative and failing admirably. I find myself being the perfect nothing.

A scene ends, a movie begins. Improv your heart out; the script is simply thrown away in the realization of dismal failure. I have to have some sort of chance...I have to not be the only person here feeling this...this...what is this? Some indescribable sense of connection? Something rediculous? Something...real? Do I dare say, real? A chord rings out in dead silence. A perfect comfort rests quietly over the landscape. The mountain range of need sinks slowly into the sand. The humor of the situation. The deafening chorus of a thousand voices. Am I not alone here? I hope I am not.

I can always write beginnings. Only she can write endings.

Strange Lonesome Monsters

2006-01-09T22:57:00.000-07:00

Tick, tock; so pass the quantitative drips and drops of every day. A beautiful crescendo of unbridled beauty floats delicately over soft sand and rests peacefully down to rest. Unconscious facts and faster comebacks. We walk with our backs broken by the weight of invisible angels; an invisible collusus. We only weep to forget weeping...we only laugh to forget pain...we only dance like a trapeze artist on the wind to escape what we can not see. The future - our future - our horizon somewhere beyond the mountains of our dreams and the deserts of our fears. Oh, this desert has worn away at our every breath - all our words now dried up in an unquenchable thirst of language. An oasis of freedom awaits us somewhere over that horizon.

We only wish and dream and hope because we do not recognize our potential to do anything else. We only pray and praise because we are far too weak to look to ourselves. We find love in others for selfish and blinding reasons - far too vain to pry our eyes from the mirror of our likings. Looks like books, and passions like fashions. Our eyes are like headlines reading like scribbled satire. Our deploration for ourselves only digs the grave a little deeper; only adds another period to the end of another sentence on the page.

How beautiful it would be to rise out of ashes and bathe in divinity. How easy it could be to look past the common human flaw and focus on something so much more - look past the death and the disease...the plague and the pardoned...the lucky and the rest. How can we accept a hand from heaven if we have marked the words of men over our eyes in intricate designs of deception? We will never look much farther than this. With the shattering claps of bombs like thunder, and the dying hiss of transistor radio...we survive. Somehow, we survive.

I want everyone to look at themselves. Look at their names. Their faces. Their mannerisms. I want everyone to look at themselves in the mirror. Think about what you never say aloud. Think about what you are too scared to believe is true. I want you to curse and swear; I want you to strip yourself far past what is 'you' and find 'human'. Find the basic urge and need; the basic want and jealousy. I want you to break your heart; you won't need it where you're going.

Oh no, you won't need it where you're going.

"All we need is a little more hope, a little more joy. All we need is a little more light, a little less weight, a little more freedom.

If we were an army, and if we believed that we were an army, and we believed that everyone was scared - like little lost children in their grown up clothes and poses.
So we ended up alone here floating through long wasted days, or great tribulations - while everything felt wrong.

Good words; strong words. Words that could've moved mountains. Words that no one ever said. We were all waiting to hear those words and no one ever said them...and the tactics never hatched...and the plans were never mapped...and we all learned not to believe...and strange lonesome monsters loafed through the hills wondering why...and it is best to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever wonder why.

So tangle; Oh tangle us up in bright red ribbons! Let's have a parade! It's been so long since we had a parade; so let's have a parade! Let's invite all our friends! And all our friends' friends! Let's promenade down the boulevards with terrific pride and light in our eyes: twelve feet tall and staggering. Sick with joy with the angels there and light in our eyes.

Brothers and Sisters, hope still waits in the wings like a bitter spinster; impatient, lonely and shivering; waiting to build her glorious fires. It's because of our plans - our beautiful ridiculous plans. Let's launch them like careening jet planes. Let's crash all our planes in the river. Let's build strange and radiant machines at this Jericho waiting to fall."

Built Then Burn (Hurrah! Hurrah!) - A Silver Mt. Zion

I'm Drinking Stars

2006-01-01T20:48:00.000-07:00

Firecracker pleasantries stream down around me, followed by scattered shouts of exclamation. Sparkling daydreams and the perfect movie ending; raining down around me in a million whispered wishes. "I love you." "I need you more now than ever." "I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met." Friends and frivolities come alive in all directions. A thousand premeditated conversations, midnight confessions, and pointless 'resolutions'. Happy, yes. New, yes. Year, yes. Dear, dear. How we lose track of time?

The only people I wish I could say things to are too far away. Away from unanswered phone calls and petty words in light of this new chance. A new chance, I say! Numbly submitted to another toast; another promise; holding our glasses up and holding each other so tightly. Yes, we are scared. Yes, we are completely alone in the dark and calling out for some company. We are lost without any particular destination. Yes, we are afraid.

Well, what do you want me to say? Piece together some retrospective of the time we take for granted until the last fleeting minutes of another digit off the calendar? Well here, a gift then: Hurt, Zoloft, Jack Daniel's, writing sentences that end with question marks, genius demise, writing a new map, ...her..., day one two three every day the same, routine and scheduled reasoning, music from another room, Rachel, playground rivalry, the Man in Black, losing more than breath, endless Friday nights, pulp, "LOVE" from the top of the world, screaming to the silence, sense, fireworks oh fireworks, godspeed, discord, a Velvet Underground reference, and another night bespeckled with Fabry's vinyl collection, hello agains, and a crystal ball controlled by the countless hopefuls and their chants of '10...9...8...7...'.

I'm sure these all have proper residence beside my sly smile and nostalgia. Running a movie reel without sound; frame-by-frame plays of things come and gone. All fun and games; I enjoyed every second of it, let me tell you. A second passing on a huge clock somewhere - all over the world, chaos is abound with loving tendencies and playful persuasiveness, but have things really changed? Are all the cries of 'NEW YEAR' and 'HAPPY' a morbid joke? Is it a reminder that there is no way out of this hopscotch? Yes, routine and daily aging awaits you. Yes, the same loves and hates are still a phone call away. Yes, this is the first day of the rest of your life.

"...and so I laughed until it didn't hurt."

The sparklers will slowly die and the remnants of a nation shall retreat to the shadows of 4:00 AM. Fives will change to sixes, cars will lie dead with drunk feet, and a magnificent memorial to another year gone will be left in a war zone of cold receipts and fading laughter. A monument...fading, fading. So shine the stars to welcome the sunrise?

11:59. This is the first day of the rest of your life. Just breathe. Stop.

Footloose And Fancy Free

2005-12-23T18:02:00.000-07:00

Whether it be the holiday season, the dropping temperatures, or the whispering anthems of the season wafting delicately through the air with faint jingle bells and brass fan fares...I found myself needing to write this. So, please...blame the sentiment on a wintertime hysteria. A crazed lunatic - bare of the usual sarcasm, irony, and general 'assholeness' - that is simply a ghost of what I usually am. Whatever you choose as my excuse, please keep it in mind.

First, I'd like to begin by apologizing. To a lot of people particularly, but each one so particular that they know exactly who they are. For whatever reason or problem, they know. I know that apologies, especially around the holidays, seem forced or expected...but I should know. I've had to force so many apologies in my short life so far; fake or meaningless in one way or another. I know exactly what it feels like to play puppeteer to the truth, and that's definitely not how it feels now. I am truly sorry for any pain.

Whether it be false assumption...true deceit...imaginative confrontations...mistakes that are simply that and nothing more...a teenage wasteland...I wish I could conjur language into something more than just 'I'm sorry'. Sorry, sorry, sorry - the word so far overused that I feel like I'm simply downmarking prices on expired excuses. Another roll from the price gun. There has to be some way to get past those five simple letters and strive for something else!

To Rachel - It was when the amount of times I said 'I love you' replaced the amount of times I said 'I'm sorry' that I knew I would lose you. You know, after a lot of picturesque arguments and made-for-TV-movie drama...only now I wish I could've taken everything back. It took me this long to come to that conclusion. You never deserved the way I treated you near the end of our relationship; you never deserved a cheap defense against my cheap mistakes. In order to not overuse 'sorry' again, let's talk sometime...I miss you.

To Madeline - I wish I could fit into that angsty ex-boyfriend mold a little better, but really it's just me forgetting to check my messages or to call you back. I know it seems like I'm being a drama king, but it's my absentmindedness and nothing more. I still think about you a lot; kind of hard to ignore sometimes. It's alright though, right? "So next time I see you, I'll be pleased to see you. I hope you'll be pleased to see me."

"It's cold outside, but warm in here.
Our hands entwined like acrobats.
Did you like the circus life?
Our hearts performing every night?
It's so cold outside we can ice skate to wherever we walk.
If you happen to slip and fall,
I'll help you up."

To Elise - We need to get together as soon as possible to write, smile, and make coffee. I've missed too many opportunities to see you; I'm sick of it. Like the lyrics we write, there is something deeper below the surface here. Something more that just words scratched on the page; we hold a connection that could do us well. "Don't you feel it too?"

To Mary - Do you ever think that I'm one of those people that never say how I truly feel about you their face? Well then, I think you're right. A hundred and one times over I wish I had gone up to your face and said: "You're amazing. I'm in awe." I also wish you'd believe me. Your raw talent and lifelong potential; your sharp humor and priceless expressions. I know that we've never been able to be close...what is that? Soap conversations and bathtub confessionals in the near future, okay?

To Alex - I know you'll never read this, but all I had to say is I'm sorry for never being able to say how much I truly love you.

I apologize to Brianna for not talking. I apologize to Tyler for never having enough time. I beg forgiveness from those who knew me well; don't give up on me yet. I'll be back one of these days. A Christmas soon or soon after, I will return after a snowy journey; rejuvenated and renewed. Probably after I've lost you all - to moving and progressing, changing and forgetting - I'll return. To everyone, I hope you have a light hearted Christmas with great friends and family - I hope you are graced with a warmth you only wish you could explain. I hope you overuse the word 'love' as much as I just overused the word 'sorry'...if there is such a thing.

Conjoined At The Tongue

2005-12-19T17:49:00.000-07:00

Just going through the motions - every day just a checklist for daily activity. The holidays are sneaking up on me; I haven't really had the time to notice the time of day let alone the time of year. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unprepared. I'm actually probably the most prepared person in my entire family - all gifts accounted for, wrapped, placed under the tree - nothing more to worry about. School ends early Wednesday for me (the break really doesn't seem like that big of a deal for me - I barely go to school any day). So, happy holidays and all that tinsel.

I hope to see a letter from her before the week is out. I miss her.

Nights of camouflage, Amazon princesses, and far too much foam core. A few good laughs - "Well, it isn't looking good on the Backwoods...which sucks" - and innumerous good times leads me to not want nights with friends to end. The Faint, victory or defeat, and endless Friday nights. Each night uncovering another buried treasure. Every single night a hunt for the end of the ocean.

Does it feel like we're all going through the motions? Why is it only the late hours of too few nights that allow us to run wild and free of routine? I guess I'm lucky though; not everyone can appreciate those moments...they can't see, so they just pass them by. I'm suffocating every moment with my clinging grasp; I'm draining every memory of all sincerity to preserve them like flowers pressed between the pages of a book. I hope these memories seem as important and fragile to everyone else as they do to me. I mean, we all hate our "shithole high school lives". We all hate the senselessness. We all hate this town, right...? I think that's just the easy way of saying we couldn't live without it...I mean, life moves on, but life would've been a lot different if we hadn't lived through all the things we supposedly 'hate'. I am thankful for this social thirst - searching for an oasis to quench my dreams. I am thankful for every friend turned enemy, or vice versa - who would I be if I hadn't learned from these changes? Ahh, existentialism overwhelms. The questions never cease.

If I'm playing my fate like Candyland, hopefully the next few steps of green, red, and blue will lead me to the finish. Maybe the next step will be with her. Maybe a few more letters sent will unravel more than I can understand. In related, maybe a few phone calls gone ignored will teach me. Maybe they'll be worth picking up someday. Maybe the fate of each step - each day-glo colored square - is worth it in the end. Let's stop striving for anything less than perfection. We know we'll never reach it...but maybe that's the whole point. Maybe the perfection is there all along, but we are unable to understand it. Maybe the perfection is following our fate, or our defects, or our insecurities. Maybe perfection is the inadvertent rules of chaos, discord, and randomness.

So, you step this way, and I'll roll the dice. We'll exchange nervous looks like a seventh grade summer, and we'll hold our hands together in handcuffs forged by rules of completion. We'll be screaming to each other to find a way out. A three. A six. Each step taken forward or backward just as frustrating as the last. A one. Miss a turn. Luck and nothing more. We'll hold our hearts like helium balloons, and conjoin at the tongue to speak in languages never even heard of. We'll be perfection within every single one of our flaws. We will glow.

Fake Plastic Love

2005-12-05T17:47:00.000-07:00

How much do you feel like a child when a smile or the certain sparkle of someone's eye can lift you out of pointless darkness? Uplifted by a thousand butterflies, the world is your playground...instead of focusing on trivial problems, you can find the remarkable ability to enjoy the day ahead. All I know is, I would love to be a child again. Remember how it used to be easy to figure out emotions? Remember when boys and girls pretty much hated each other? "Wouldn't it be nice if we could live twice in one life? Then we would know what to do..."

Let me just put it this way: My music skips a beat whenever I think about her.

Too many days of needless wondering and boyish fun. I've gone through too many days of dreaming of the road, and sunsets far past New Mexico. I've dealt with too many mistakes of 'love' ridden blindness. Jenna and I were talking today about the uselessness of the word 'love'. Love for family? For friends? For someone? For life? The word is such a generalization of so many seperate concepts (and then each person has their own interpretation of these concepts; then everything is blown to hell). We're all so used to binding our endless lyrical descriptions in single words; streamlining what we really need to say with simple responses. How come our minds can easy dismiss hours of poetic portrayals of reality in short sentences, but we can never think of the right things to say? I can barely read my thoughts, let alone control them. How can we all be expected to conform to this time and energy saving manner? Are we criminal for allowing our words to run rampant and released of petty completion? Speak to the heavens like there is no tommorrow; sometimes there is nothing better moonlit confessions of babbling perfections:

I love you. I need you. I can't dream of life without you.

Dream one thing, say another. It's like stabbing yourself in the hand. Rehearse over and over again what you want to say; you'll lose it all in that one gasping breath right between catching their eye and saying 'hello'. No matter how hard you try, your voice will be stolen away from you and will be replaced with another stupid smile or another awkward facial expression. Ah, damnation. There's no escape from teenage-dom - must we all play parts in this predetermined dance? Every stuttered question with sweaty palms and nervous eyes? Every childish tendency? Yes, I don't think I'm quite done with being a child yet. "When you grow up, your heart dies." There is no love like the fake plastic love we write into beautiful sonnets and sing ourselves to sleep with; there is no love like high school drama. Don't you wish you could be stuck in a romantic comedy of some sort - where fate twists and turns and pulls the characters through emotional hell and back again, but they always end up happily together in the end? Somewhere between Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks?

Ah, this must be love.

So, pull up the covers to make a tent at night. Built a fort out of cardboard boxes. Bombard the pretty girls with water balloons. This one's for all the notes passed under desks in class - "I like you, do you like me?" - this one's for all the foolish hearts. This one's for all those school dances we hated but we went to anyway. This one's to hour long conversations on the phone about nothing - just to hear the sound of each other's voice. This one's for all the fake plastic lovers who threw away the words "I love you" like there was nothing else to live for. Yes, you. You and I both.

Unlflinching Relevance

2005-11-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

I hope my life doesn't boil down to waiting once again every day for a letter from a far away fantasy. Distance makes things work, and this primitive form of communication develops both mystery and romance. Maybe just on my end of it, but it's worth writing a thousand fictional short stories in my head to replace my memories. A vacation away from the same old days full of the same old stories. I can write the same old words here, but I'm getting quite bored with that...there are only so many times you can repeat yourself before routine turns into insanity.

Seeing the family this last week was nice as always; interesting conversations that I actually felt involved in for the first time in my life. It's sometimes nice to let go of high school life and the everyday broken chords, and have time to regain oneself among those who know you best. A Friday night spent with good friends around a fire leaves me content...the laughter and unaswerable questions of life rang through the darkness like a beam of truth in the usual world of chaos. A Friday night spent thinking about what life will be like in ten or twenty years leaves me empty...the stars and the endless expanse of the 1:00 AM air makes room for uninterrupted contemplation. It was the first time in a long time that I was able to clear my mind for more than a few seconds and focus.

I see my friends around me preparing for the rest of their lives - talking about which college they'll be attending, whether or not their grade point average is 'adequate', what they want to do with the rest of their lives - this makes me feel foreign and strange. I've got my general ideas, and my foolish dreams of course...but I have yet to map out the path that I'll be taking let alone walk it. It's hard to think that I will one day forget what I've been living...these friends and enemies, the weekends and this boring town, the peacefulness and the static...more important things await years past now. I might never think about someone again, and that scares me in a way. I am too entranced by what each person I know...I am too entranced by what they have given me in the past year...two years...four years...ten years...I have grown based off these people. They are not simply random faces in a crowd I cannot navigate...they have given me so much. A few years from now, when we have all 'grown up' and moved on to new and exciting lives, will they simply become blank portraits on the page? Will they simply become ghosts of fading memories? Will I?

Some day, we will all simply become records and awards...names on a list and pictures on a wall...we will become statistics. It takes so much to change the world; it takes so much to be remembered once you die...I think people are scared of that. They are scared of becoming just another human that was born, lived, and then died. Everyone wants to be important; everyone wants to be unique. It is hard to say whether or not these preparatory years of our lives will present us with a chance to really make such a difference, but if not...the change has already been made within us all.

I can keep having my dreams of grandeur; these goals and silly aspirations that are usually only found in story books. What better way to live forever than like a book on a shelf? Let's all dream of the perfect song for our ending credits, and never forget that we are each unique and alone in a sea of six billion dreamers.

Await Rescue

2005-11-21T18:16:00.000-07:00

Somewhere between a shell and a ghost, I wait. I sit quietly without any sign of physical struggle for an aeroplane to come and take me away. I've made too many bad decisions in my life to not afford a ticket; no stops to awakening. One way to escape. Give me unharnessed strength and an ice cold conscious. Give me complete lack of empathy.

I want everyone to sit down for a moment and think about how many times in their lives they've so stupidly felt sorry for themselves. We're all record breakers here, yes? In our adolescence and teenage depravity, we've grown accustomed to feeling slapped in the face and playing the victim. I'm sick of laying the blame on someone else; isn't it about time we all face the facts and take responsibility for our imperfections? We should be able to let go of our hate of it, and embrace the beauty within the discord. We're so focused on saving ourselves that we've never even considered what it would be like to be destroyed. We'll never stop fighting. We'll only stop fighting when we collapse against the grain - ignorant, and frustrated because of it. Aren't you just sick of fighting?

I look at so many people that I wish I knew; I wish I knew what they were thinking behind their seemingly simple routines and daily existences. I know that there is something deeper behind their exhausted eyes and busy schedules; it is rare that they ever escape from their self-built prisons and let their true being out. Do I know you? Do I know of you - something beyond our petty arguments, shallow opinions, high school naivete, 8:00 meetings, and 10:00 deadlines? I'd die for the opportunity to. I'd die for someone to find a key to release me from the same prison. An oil-painted portrait in a safe somewhere - under lock and key - cherished. Unable to learn and feel; touch and absorb every aspect of being.

If you know what you're doing here, or have any inkling into what you think your life should 'be' - please tell me. Leave a comment back at my LiveJournal, e-mail me, write a letter - whatever. Give me a phone call under midnight stars - give me moonlit confessions and walks without destinations - give me something through the static. I'm genuinely interested in what each of you has to say. I'm curious to see how lucky you are; how beautiful you are. As for myself, I'll tell you when I grow up. Until then, I'll keeping caring about the last step I've made. I'll keep walking backwards just to see the past I've grown so comfortable with; I will never move forward again. I'll succumb to idiocy and pointlessness, because we all have to have something, right?

Somewhere between forgotten and searching, I wait. I sit without any sign of shedding a single tear; losing my dignity; finding what haunts me. I'm waiting for that aeroplane to come take us away - please, come take us away. I sit and await rescue. Give me endless opportunity. Give me indefinable hope.

Say Hello

2005-11-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

Such silly things to worry about. Mindless, pointless distractions. The differences between one order of words and the puzzlement that follows. Inferior goals that never reach completion. An endless search for the rewind button - crushed under the unstoppable force of time. Progression. Wouldn't it be refreshing to forget? To cure the incurable disease of unwanted memories and rid of their lasting effects? Imagine there was no such thing as remembering. You could get hurt and easily let go. You wouldn't need to learn from your mistakes, because you would never need to let pains of unexplainable deja vu affect you for longer than a split second decision: Am I finished learning about being hurt?

Hopefully, in a week or so, I'll be receiving a letter from far away. It's rash of me to think that my words will mean more than just words. The power of human emotion allows us to forget reason. It gives us the chaotic and stupid ability to let ourselves feel exposed and weak. Depending on how these cards play out, the Queen of Hearts might reveal a winning hand in the end. On the other hand, I might lose everything in a beggar's game.

To quote 'High Fidelity', "Should I bolt every time I get that feeling in my gut when I meet someone new? Well, I've been listening to my gut since I was 14 years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains."

I'm a sucker for suspense.

I see a million and one desperate cries for a soul mate...a girlfriend...a boyfriend...I see a million and one 'heartbroken' teenagers with nothing else to lose...I see pointless rants as far as the eye can see (but notice, I'm the one that's looking). I see wants and desires and nothing even loosely resembling needs. Success and failure; cause and effect. It's ironic how I can even think of looking for consolation and typical relief inside the trivialness of a silent audience and journal entries drowning out rhyme and reason in blind epiphanies. There's so much more beyond the text on the page; something I'm not getting across. I wish I could combine all the petty feelings I get from chemical reactions and electrical currents through my brain - the results of smiles, conversations, beloved songs, prose, and other useless things. Can you hear me? Can you hear me trying to say 'hello' from across a crowded room?

The Mountain Range

2005-11-14T20:56:00.000-07:00

There's been one too many dreams of the past; a special place inside my head where all the little tidbits and outtakes of my memories can have their revenge. Dreams or nightmares - I don't know which anymore. It's been far too long missing someone; missing some days. There's nothing left to do but write a long forgotten letter. A present wrapped in a brown paper bag - words like jewels and confessions like gold - hidden behind a rough exterior.

How can a dream be perfect? How can images inside my subconscious mind make me react in such a way? I'm just flying and falling at the same time. Vertigo from not knowing what to say and not knowing how to act. Chemicals inside my cerebrum composing her touch - a blanket of warmth in my mind writing her every breath. The room is much too cold - the blankets have been pulled off - and the rumors of her have whispered silently into the blackness of 3:00 A.M. Maybe dreaming will bring her to me - maybe she's dreaming too. She always said she was a dreamer.

Shake off the morning; soften the dryness of my throat. Shake off the sleep and break off another bit of time wasted. She's still smiling beautifully behind my half-closed eyes. Maybe she'll be out in a few days.

I'm not sure how we are all doing - living our lives. I'm starting to really wonder if enough people are appreciating every single day of their life. Do they really enjoy their lives? Is there really a way to measure? Quantitative and cold. I know for sure the numbers are decreasing daily; I'm one of them. Robotic and programmed to routine; short-circuited by any thought of retaliation. Basic and based off a calendar. I need someone to share my demise with me; or pull me up out of darkness.

I need a like mind, or an inspiration. I need another lost soul, or another bright flame to help me find my way. I need a flickering beauty behind 35 milimeter film. I desire to share my readily overflowing heart with someone. Yes, another angsty teenger on another 'lonely road'. Why don't I pick up a guitar and write a song about it? Why not? Well, I've already written enough songs about that. They're all horrible as well. There might not be any songs worth writing anymore.

One day, this will all end. Someday, there will be more songs to write. Maybe we'll all find happiness, and we'll all stop complaining. Maybe one day we'll start loving and stop worrying. Heh, maybe some day soon. Maybe when we're all done tap dancing for an invisible audience, and stop building mountain ranges from our sadness...we'll finally find peace.

A Speeding Car

2005-11-07T23:12:00.000-07:00

Beyond all the things I've tried my hardest to leave behind; beyond all the things that have held me down or I have been too blind and stupid to appreciate; beyond the little annoying flaws of humanity is where I lie. Blindfolded and broken. Left with no armor against the cold wind; left with no hope against the cold world. I laugh. The cold world? As if the world has been truly cold to me? I quickly thank my lucky stars; I pray that my losses can seem miniscule to the greater powers at hand. Let me be cold inside my own perceptions, and I shall not rain an endless shower of complaint and relentless suffering upon what I find so usually uplifting. Let me have my fleeting moments, and I will be set.

Let's sail away. Changing the subject away from a clouded mind; Let's sail away. Simple words really; perfectly crafted upon poety, and weaved with ease between haunting melodies. Thanks again, Conor. Let's sail away. I finally skipped the slippery rocks of my hesitation, and landed on dry ground with a satisfying calmness. Nervousness aside, I even surprised myself. Minus my horrible sense of timing, it couldn't have been better planned. Let me set the scene. Your typical angsty teenage boy fights endlessly for the right words. These words never come. He turns to his secondary defense against the rediculous power of his opponent (an invisible unseen force - true and powerful, yet impossible to fight) - music. Music, music, music. Words and their surrounding harmonies. The boy finds consolation within this. A mixtape is in order. Slowly, the songs that make up the puzzle-piece, ransom-note concotion of this boy's infatuations come into place. Each piece seems harder to fit than the last. A grand dance is composed; the time comes. The opportune moment arrives, and with a smooth sense of inescapable failure, the boy dives in. All things said and done, the scene is over. Always listen to the lifeguards when you're a kid: No diving headfirst in unknown waters. He never saw it coming; he never even had a chance.

So, silence. Welcome to the new blog; this is the new shit. Every other little cliche' line about the beginning of something new and the development of new memories should be inserted here. The new birth of some even deeper meaning. Whatever gives you dreams at night. I decided to let go of glass-against-glass; it's not who I am anymore. It would be so hard trying to fill the shoes of the former me. Times have changed, and people have changed. In all honesty, even though the internet is nothing but a perfect experiment in human anarchy and will never be anything more than numbers and invisible measurements of quantitative success determined by code, tags, meta, lists, and endless information...why shouldn't the internet change to? We should celebrate the little life we breathe into this cold corpse.

So, end scene one. Lights up, spotlight stage left. Welcome to your new life; would you like a lemonade?

You can't swim in a town this shallow...You will most assuredly drown tomorrow

2005-06-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

A summer day passes slowly. Slower than usual it seems, when all the world has to offer has been eaten alive by complications, addictions, and seemingly petty feuds. My love for Ben Gibbard swells as every Death Cab album to date passes through my ears. 'The Photo Album' and 'Transatlanticsm' seem fitting. Happiness exists over the horizon. Far away. The perfect girl waits unknowingly in a small apartment in New Orleans, or in the unfamiliar territory of ivy-league Massachusetts. The perfect life, with perfect days and nights. Just over the horizon.
There is something about this town that brings everyone down - children and adults alike - something that sings a soft song of isolation...control...a cage. Maybe Kyle had the right idea generally. Get out of here, as fast as you can, before it sucks you in. It makes people angry...it makes people insane with an unexplainable frustration. A shallow anger with no reason or resolution. We are happy for a comfortable lifestyle without real problems, yet we find the tiniest problems to fret over. What happened to summer days?
I mean, real summer days. Summer days when happiness was leveled in how bright the sun was shining. Measured in the sparadic movement of sprinklers; like peak meters of light-refracting liquid on some kind of hidden equalizer. Some kind of humming that exists in the air; resonating at a frequency we have all but tried to ignore. We're all trying to forget. What happened to summer days? Measured in the flight of our spirits. The sound of our footsteps against the clean, refreshed earth. Our childish tendencies have left us alone and cold. Have left us obsessed with success and routine. No 1:30 conversations. No acting up. 'Act'. 'Be normal'. It has left us awake at night. It is inevitable; it will destroy us all. Old age is just around the bend. I can't stand the thought of wasting my air and wasting the beauty of the world around me while I can still be unsettled and wild. Heh, while I can still be alive.
What happened to being alive? Did it fall out of fashion?
There will not be a lack of color in my life. I choose to fill every day with inexplainable beauty; a pallette of the brightest colors I can find. Every single spectrum represented. You can hate me; you can be that always-hungry anger. You can disagree. I will simply wave from wherever my journey takes me; somewhere along the horizon.
Somewhere along the horizon.

...and we all went to heaven in a little row boat.

2004-08-04T00:27:00.000-07:00

Well, my semi-stereotypical "emo" hiatus of this journal has seemingly ended, and in celebration of being a geek, I've created a new layout. Very simple, and it puts full attention on the entries (which was really, the whole point of this journal). So Glass Against Glass, vers. 13.0, is now up. I might decide one day to upload screens of every version up to this, to see how it has progressed. This newest layout is inspired by M. Night Shyamalan's "The Village" with lyrics from Nickel Creek's "Out Of The Woods". See if you can catch my thoughts behind this theme.

So, I am now unemployed (well, as of a few days ago). I have stopped working at our local corporate whore's grocery store (heh rhymed), and have now given myself the good amount of laziness I deserve. School starts pretty soon, and I don't really care either way. Days have been days - good and bad. The good ones have been exceptionally good though. I've watched too many movies to count (including going to see "The Village" with Madeline), conducted a "tropical dinner" with Tyler (with the shortest appearance of Sudden Epidemic to date), and basically sat around pretending I have a life. Laconic hasn't been doing anything lately, because we're all unorganized. Hopefully, the demo will be done soon, and then - SHOWS SHOWS SHOWS! (I think it's cute to repeat things three times in a row). Lots of shows, merch, and planning for the completion of the album. Borderline Angelic will start work on the first full-band album, "Transformation", very soon (as soon as Jacob gets back from Europe, Elise gets an electric violin, and I get ahold of Weinland). That will be fun, and we'll be playing shows for that as well. Speaking of Borderline Angelic, I might be playing a show in a week or so with The Banded Geckos down in Santa Fe (just me, not the whole band). So, once I get details, I will post. I hope people will come to cheer me on.

I have been very happy lately. Happy but scared inside. Scared of a day not so far off, when my beautiful Madeline goes off to college. Very scared. I don't know what I'll do with myself. On the other hand, that makes all the times up to then even better, right?

Don't Hold Your Breath.

2004-07-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

Well, uhm.

I don't think I'll really be posting here anymore. It doesn't really seem the matter, because no one reads.

And the very few one or two people that do find out the same things from just talking to me.

So, don't your breath for updates, if you even care.

...Yeah.

I've Been Happy Lately...

2004-06-24T18:47:00.000-07:00

Well, today has been a very good day. I didn't have any work today, which makes everything better one way or another. Doing the same thing over and over again (even though your getting paid for it) gets very old, very fast. I barely have the time to do anything but work. I had to get off work on Saturday (which can be a pain depending on if my boss cooperates) to go to Brett's. I feel like my time is sucked away. I have work tommorrow from 2:00-9:00, but oh well. I'll deal with it. I sat around for the first half of the day - playing Estrella and Jennifer - writing and sleeping. It was beautiful to be lazy. I met Madeline at her work, and we walked back to my house from there. We hung out for awhile, but then she had to go to a lesson, so here I am.

The suprise is almost complete. I'm ecstatic about it. It will be complete on Saturday, just in time for Brett's party. This is a very good thing...I can barely wait. I hope it affects everyone just as much as it does me. It really means a lot to me, and I hope other people understand like I wish them to. We shall see.

Borderline Angelic has been doing a lot lately, which is really great. There are a couple of shows coming up, and I will also be participating in the third-annual Acoustic Live competition. I'm very excited about that. Laconic just recently started planning to record the first album, and will probably have the first single - "Lackluster" - released on our PureVolume site and on our new web site as well as soon as it is done. The album is definitely going to take a lot of work, time, and money away from me, but it will all definitely be worth it. I don't know if it will be ready by early autumn, but hopefully. It's going to be a lot of fun working with Cragin again, and Kyle seems pretty excited about it as well. We're going to practice on Sunday with click tracks to make sure our time-keeping is good. The moment of truth, Kyle.

So, music, music, music. That's pretty much my life right now. I'm not considering work as a part of my life. Music is pretty much it. Listening to it and creating it. That and Madeline - who is just as wonderful as ever. By the way, any one who has ever come and visited me (especially Madeline, Mikey, Irina, Angela, and Janelle) at work - I thank you. It keeps me sane.

The Postal Service - Suddenly Everthing Has Changed

2004-06-20T19:40:00.000-07:00

"Is this what you wanted?"

I haven't updated in a long time, but I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. Either I'm keeping myself busy enough to not have enough time to repeat my daily actions in words, or I find it almost pathetic that people spend that much time to do so (I'm one to talk; I used to). My summer has consisted of work, music, and Madeline. I've either been working my days away in silence; earning money for no other reason than to have it - or I've been spending my time playing Estrella, writing new songs and forgetting old ones. And finally, when I'm doing neither, which is actually a lot of the time - I'm with Madeline. We've not been able to do a lot together lately because of her and I working, but when we do spend time together - It's amazing. I spent seventeen or so hours with her one day...and it could best be described as living.

I was working on something for two days, but then I finished. I would describe this adventure, but it's a secret. More of a suprise actually. It's hoped to suprise a good number of people, and also mean a lot to them. I hope it will suprise them each differently. This suprise keeps being delayed, but I think it will be worth it in the end. You'll all know who you are when that time comes.

I've been listening to a lot of music lately. Some new, some old. A lot of The Postal Service, Bright Eyes, and the new album from Iron & Wine - "Our Endless Numbered Days". The album is cleaned up version of what he's been doing for the last two albums, and isn't any lesser than them because of it. Actually, his Nick Drake-like guitar playing and folk-like vocals continue to entrace even more with each song that progresses through my ears. I highly reccomend the album - it's perfect to steal away from the living of normal days and imagine yourself in something even more perfect than a lucid dream...more amazing. And I continue to reccomend Idiot Pilot's "Strange We Should Meet Here" - which should be re-released on Reprise Records in the next month or so - so look for it in stores everywhere...damn talented kids.

The line between music and work is beginning to blur. I kind of like that. Laconic will be going into the studio very soon to record the album, and "Lackluster" will be released online at our PureVolume site as soon as it recorded. The web site is almost done, and we should have a show coming up. Borderline Angelic will also have some shows coming up, as well as three songs on an upcoming tribute album for Dashboard Confessional - playing two covers and one original. We will be covering "Ender Will Save Us All" and "The Good Fight" - they will be available for download very soon as well.

Until then, it's up to you.

AFI - "God Called In Sick Today"

2004-05-25T20:51:00.000-07:00

The summer is arriving slowly but surely...covered by this last week of droning routine. This season holds so much possibility, and I'm exploding with excitement for it to arrive. I can not even begin to express how much I want to flee from that prison, and rejoice in the rays of the sweet summer sun...singing in my loudest voice to heavens. I have a feeling my summer is going to be even more busy than the school year: a job, Laconic practice, Second Glance practice, shows, Laconic album recording, Second Glance album recording, and blowing off most of it to see Madeline. I have so much work to do, that it's already overwhelming. Overwhelming with happiness, unlike the stress that usually drowns me between the months of August and June. A much needed break to do so much. Kind of ironic.

The Laconic album is going to be amazing. I have a feeling...I don't know what of...surrounding every song and every idea in my head swirls with new possibilities. I have finished all the artwork for the album, and have set-up the manufacturing package, so now I don't have to worry about any technical details and can focus directly on the music. I can barely wait to record the first song, but I have a feeling that after that...I'll be dying to record another...and the wait will be worse. I have so many plans in my head...damn. I've been trying to work on a Laconic web site, and have been thinking of ideas to help publicize the band as of late. We are probably going to play on Senior Appreciation Night at Ashley Pond for an hour to a half an hour...but we will be playing new songs from the album, so I hope to see everyone I know there! The new equipment should be showing up very soon (Alex and I's amps), and we'll be practicing next week during finals to get ready for the concert. Much excitement.

Altogether, life is beautiful, and it continues on into light; never dark.

Stabbing Westward - I Remember

2004-05-17T17:39:00.001-07:00

I find myself remembering. Remembering anything my mind can get a grasp on. It holds onto the memories so tight, almost like the world playing out before me is unimportant compared. I picture nights alone, nights together...I picture people who have now left my life, and left no trace...I picture things I thought would never end. Is it healthy to recall memory so often? Obsessing over things that play over and over in your mind, like a tape rewound but never changed, and basking in the happiness it brings you...can it be right? It's like living in a dream, but you always know what is going to happen. You picture times gone, and sit in uselessless, doing nothing but dreaming. You picture these memories, and the world turns to nothing but blurred colors in your periphery. It's almost like I couldn't let go of these memories, even if I tried. It's almost relaxing to remember...like it's a way to show you really lived. "Please remedy my confusion." Another thing that probably isn't healthy is imagining the second ending. In every situation there can be more than way out, but you'll never know that other way out no matter what you choose. What would you life had been otherwise? You'll never know. I guess that's where I get stuck...I think too much.

The day was utterly boring, as it always is at school. Each class is useless drone; a repetitive experience. I submit myself to routine, and hope that a flaw will be devised in the cycle. I actually got to come home at a decent time today, due to the fact that Olions is now over for the year. I spent my time with Madeline over at her house, and we spent time with her brother, cousin, and her cousin's friend. It was really nice to feel like I was part of her family. I felt accepted. It was relaxing. The clouds provided a beautiful light outside, and a breeze drifted just soft enough through the scene. "Cafarro's Theme" played endlessly in my mind. I unavoidably relate that song with good times. Another highlight of my day was listening to a mix of songs I made for Elise. I defined them as "life defined in lyrical epiphany". The songs I chose seem to bring out so much meaning to me, so I decided to share them. The lyricist I highlighted most never ceases to amaze me: Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes). I decided to put "From A Balance Beam", "The Trees Get Wheeled Away", and "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love And To Be Loved)" on the mix, because they convey so much in general about how an outlook on life can be looked at a little differently with a little help.

I started to make a list of people I appreciate. I tried to focus on people I don't show that I do so much, so I immediately excluded Madeline, Alex Den-Baars, and Rachel. I came up with a suprising list of names...Alex Wilcox...Trevor...Tyler...Alex Marble...Elise...Bryant...Stephanie Selwyn...so many more...I need to show that I care more. I feel like I've officially stolen all the beautiful people in existence to play a part in my life, and I'm selfish to keep them all to myself. How do you show someone you care? I think I've gotten worse and worse at it over time. Aren't you supposed to get better with practice? Maybe I'm cursed. I thought a list like that could help...but I don't know where to go from here. How do you show someone you care?

Stabbing Westward - I Remember

2004-05-17T17:39:00.000-07:00

Led Zeppelin - "No Quarter"

2004-05-15T23:05:00.000-07:00

I'm no longer afraid of death. I guess I'd have to question if I was ever afraid of such a thing...but how am I supposed to give a truthful answer now that I know that it is not something to be frightened of. Life and death act as one in existence...not one better than the other. How are we supposed to know of death? Maybe death is just another life, in a different way. Maybe death is everything we dream it could be, or maybe it is everything we see in our nightmares. It's beautiful almost in its uncertainty. I have realized that I could die now. I might be happy...I might be content...I might be nothing at all. I could let go of everything I have. I could die now.

We cannot even begin to guess what to see past our egotist existences...Maybe we'll see angels. Maybe we'll see nothing but black. Maybe we'll wake up from a dream. Maybe we'll be reborn. How can you fear this? You cannot run from the inevitable. We are dying every second we live. It almost worries me when I see people who cannot withstand the thought of death and live in a world of self-proclaimed immortality. Their fear places them above their fellow beings, and they are selfish to think they can "save" themselves from the pace of time and no one else. I think they need to see there is no "saving" to be done. Not for them, or for anyone else. I'm going to laugh when Evan is right, and our existence is simply the fuzzy dream of a cat. Take that organized religion! When I die, and it turns out I just continue on living life...in a different world maybe...a different time perhaps...but I just keep on living...I'm going to have to find the people that ran from death with an unstoppable passion, and laugh.

As you can all see, I have created a new layout for Glass Against Glass. I tried to reflect these recent feelings on life and death, and also pay homage to Laconic and the hopefully upcoming release of the new album, "In Loving Memory Of The Man You Thought I Was". The artwork at the top was created by a fellow DeviantArtist Taphos, and is the cover art for the album. The lyrics are from Laconic as well. I will update the lyrics pages as soon as possible (so that they actually work), and also start scanning and uploading some artwork so that I can have that section operational as well.

"In Loving Memory Of The Man You Thought I Was" tells the story of a normal human being. "The Autumn Orphan" (as the album names this man) travels through life and death in a journey of the mind and soul. The season of autumn was chosen because of it's obvious symbolism within the album itself. Autumn itself is the best symbol of the end of life (renewal and flourishing life) and the beginning of death. "The Autumn Orphan" succumbs to his intense emotional confusion - breakdowns, addictions, paranoia, fear - never understanding the true nature of this "life". He takes his own life to escape his personal torture. "The Girl In Black" (another character) is the love he regrets losing, and serves as the symbol of the life he could've had. On his journey into death, "The Autumn Orphan" meets "The Seventh Angel". The angel shows him of his new world, and serves as the symbol of the "life" "The Autumn Orphan" has now accepted in death. He speaks of a beautiful existence. He also speaks of a painful existence. He shows "The Autumn Orphan" that he truly has the choice. To live...or to die. The album contains thirteen tracks: "The Imminent Failure", "Lackluster", "Swallow", "The Tower", "Love Is A Word, Nothing More", "Sweetness", "Hypochondriac", "The Rememberance", "Four Reasons", "The Embrace", "Angel", "Flowers For Julianne", and "For The Ferryman".

It's been a very interesting last few weeks. "Guys And Dolls" ended, Olions' Banquet was last night, and Madeline has been gone in New Orleans since Wednesday for her brother's graduation. I've been going through a lot emotionally, and I don't really know what to do anymore. Either people need to shut the fuck up and listen to me occaisionally, or they need to stop intefering in my life. People need to realize that maybe the most rational decision isn't always the best one. People need to see that there is ALWAYS a chance for mistakes, but it will never be exciting unless you take the chance in the first place. People need to see that I care about them. Some people need to see that I don't know where I'm going sometimes, but they don't have any right map to get me anywhere. Some people need to stop giving advice. Some people need to open their eyes, and see the world. I want to shake others and wake them up. "YOU'RE ALIVE, YOU KNOW THAT?!" Some people need to stay out of my life. In the next couple of weeks, I'll probably get yelled at a lot. Probably get hated by a lot of people. Close-minded freaks. I'll probably get blamed and made the fool. Opinionated jerks. But, simply, I don't care. I DON'T CARE. You can yell all you want, you can hate all you want, you can forget that maybe there is a shred of sense (or *gasp* even more) in the things I do...but...I DON'T CARE. If none of these horrible things happen, bless the world. Conflict will have been avoided.

Have you ever sat back and thought about dying? If you'd be content dying right now? If you have reasons to live?

"I want something good to die for...to make it beautiful to live."

IDIOT PILOT GOT SIGNED!

2004-05-06T06:47:00.000-07:00

Idiot Pilot, the kids from Bellingham that I've been listening to since their start, just got signed to REPRISE Records (Reprise/Warner/Sire)! I'm so ecstatic! They are one of my favorite bands in the world, and they totally deserve this opportunity! And they're only 19 years old each (hah...had to throw it in there). EVERYONE should go check them out at www.idiotpilot.com, and buy their new independently released album (which I assume will be re-released on Reprise) "Strange We Should Meet Here"!

My Spirit Merely Laughs

2004-04-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

The emotions of excitement and frustration come so easily together. Neither seems to be a part of me at this moment. People rush around in endless circles around me - doing nothing, never stopping, always running to something that doesn't really matter. People scream to themselves about their problems, and learn to scream to each other for guidance. No order is conducted within this chaos, and the world never seemingly stops for our egotist existences. We're all so worried about our own well-being that we never stop to notice others. We're all strung onto an iron bar that never bends under our stress, so we blame our friends and our families for our straight-backed arrogance. Blame flies everywhere. Some with reason, some without any. Either way, nothing but a divine joy and peace should be expressed to each other. There is no reason to be upset at one another - angry and frustrated for petty reasons based off nothing but split second emotional decision. So, I guess I'm telling everyone to calm down and appreciate the life and people around you. You might have your problems, and other people might have theirs, but stupid anger without cause is useless.

"Guys And Dolls" starts this weekend. I am looking forward to the experience, and I hope everything goes well. We had to work with the lighting techs on the light cues yesterday, and everyone in the cast was kind of wired, so things were definitely not done quickly or efficiently. There was a lot of uneccesary talking, followed directly by a lot of uneccesary yelling. I hope things go alright, in the end. The show will be good. I hope it ends in a sort of harmony between everyone instead of a united hatred towards each other.

Laconic will be releasing their first demo soon.

My feelings have been kind of haywire lately to the extent that the compass in my mind has been turning the same useless circles as everyone else has. I've been thinking too much about feelings. I have some things that need to be said, but sadly will never surely cross my lips. I hold some things that need to be done, but my hands and my heart are losing their grip. There's something inside of me that won't go away, but I continue an endless battle to destry it. There's something I'm trying to hide from, but I'm always hiding in the same place. Within myself, there is nothing but a deep confusion that is once again consuming me piece by piece. I stare blankly into space, wondering if things are alright.

You know who you are when I say this. Ask me what's wrong and tell me the truth. Don't want to let you go. I can't keep my defenses any longer. It came to me in a dream. The infantry is pushing back, and retreat is inevitable. You smiled. I love seeing you smile.

I love seeing you smile.

Slowly Disappear (Throw It All Away)

2004-04-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

Well, it's definitely been too short of a weekend for too large a number of events. Each day packed just like the last...to a point where the slightest movement would cause the threads holding the world up like paper-doll backdrops behind us to break. This has been a very busy last two days. Tyler came down from Rio Rancho to practice with Sudden Epidemic for the whole weekend, and Laconic also had the chance to get together to practice as well. Kyle could only practice on Saturday, and we lacked Alex M. for SE so it felt kind of flat. We didn't really get to work on the new songs ("Eyes So Blue", "Misconception", "Don't Be A Stranger", etc.) so that was really pointless. It was fun nonetheless, but I wish we could've actually gotten down to working on it. We'll still be playing Saturday at the Rock For The Planet awareness concert though, so I hope to see everyone I know there!

Laconic practiced today (Sunday) for real (the whole band minus Kyle). We'll only have a five song set at the concert on Saturday, but what a set it will be. Alex got to practice on time today, which was nice, and we had our new bassist, Ryan. The songs sound so much fuller with all the guitars. We finally finished "For The Ferryman", which has this intense bass effect to heighten the epic feeling of the song. We'll be playing "Lackuster", "Swallow", "Hypochondriac", "The Rememberance", and "For The Ferryman" this coming Saturday. I think the Laconic set will be worth the listen, so again, you better all show up! Anyway, after all the playing, singing, and screaming...I lost my voice. I can't sing at all. It'll be better by next week, but right now...it's completely shot. Which was shit considering the fact that I had to sing two songs with Ian at the college tonight, and couldn't due to the fact I couldn't form any note at all within my tattered throat.

I miss Madeline. I didn't get to see her at all on Saturday or Sunday because she's grounded (for the stupidest reasons). She was ten minutes late home on Friday, so she was "grounded" from doing ANYTHING for the weekend. Her parents are really strict, and I get sick of it pretty quickly. I wanted to see some other of my friends this weekend (and some more than I did). I wanted to talk to Rachel, and never really got the chance. I wanted to hang out with some other crapshooter guys for the hell of it. I think Guys and Dolls is getting to my head. Anyway, I just wanted to do a lot more this weekend than I did. I have the feeling that if I had crammed any more into the last two days, I wouldn't have been able to handle it. But really, can I ever handle it?

The Rush, Part Two

2004-03-27T00:21:00.000-07:00

After stepping quietly into reality, I smile at the fact that I really do have the control over my life, and what I choose to do with it. I cross the street calmly, laughing at the people yelling at their radios and cursing at their stoplights; fretting for a mechanical leader that controls them. The cool breeze tucks itself into my jacket, and a smooth sense of sailing away fills my body. Lifted to my toes, I walk steadily to nowhere. I avoid the cracks in the sidewalk, and dance on the wind...floating each step after the other. Your rules don't control me...your laws don't beat me...I am me! Living in all my flesh and blood...I control this life! Like writing in a book, I hold all my own endings, and contain every twist of the plot. I am the soul and living essence of this writing, and I...AM...ALIVE. Like you, and you, and whoever reads this...I am breathing now! I am living every second...and I join you in harmony of life. I join you in love and friendship...and I surrender to the power of one. We are all one mind.

For A Minute There, I Lost Myself.

2004-03-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

I sit here...not knowing. I look at the people I know, and see chaos. It's not change; I've seen that. Surely though, it is something. Lately, everyone that I could live and die for - holding a friendship, an aquaintance, or a passing note in hand - I have barely been able to stand. It's like the world shifted a little to the left, and everyone turned a looked a little past me - never looking at me, but really, looking through me. It's like the parallels have been severed, and the balanced understanding between two worlds was lost. Every step I take, it takes a little more effort to take a breath...tired, broken, sore...I collapse in a helpless pile of defeat. I look at how one day the world turns one way, and the next, I'm thrown off my feet in a reverse direction...dizzy and without bearings. It's almost satisfying to just imagine the idea of "alone", and drift inside that dream for awhile. It's almost relaxing. You never have to worry anyone...anything...you never have to worry for the well-being of others. Selfish and stupid, inside your own little world, you play with your toys and try hold your breath (for little do you know, you are drowning). When the water finally fills your lungs, a cool, clean feeling of release overwhelms you, and you smile...floating slowly through the blue of your dream...blue...blue...blue...then black. Tell me what I've gotten myself into.

My Life: The Soundtrack

2004-03-11T20:39:00.000-07:00

Opening credits: Guster - "What You Wish For" or Laconic - "The Request"
Waking up: Pink Floyd - "Comfortably Numb"
Average day: Dave Matthews Band - "Jimi Thing"
First date: Nick Drake - "Hazey Jane I"
Falling in love: Norah Jones - "Feelin' The Same Way"
Love scene: A Perfect Circle - "Magdalena" or Incubus - "Here In My Room"
Fight scene: The Murmurs - "You Suck"
Breaking up: Flogging Molly - "The Likes Of You Again" (indirectly)
Getting back together: The Lyndsay Diaries - "Fading The Kisses"
Secret love: Saves The Day - "She"
Life's okay: The Rocket Summer - "TV Family"
Mental breakdown: Matchbox Twenty - "Bed Of Lies"
Physical breakdown: Marilyn Manson - "I Don't Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)"
Driving: G-Love And The Special Sauce - "1-76"
Learning a lesson: Bright Eyes - "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love And To Be Loved)
Deep thought: Queens Of The Stone Age - "Song For The Deaf"
Flashback: AFI - "Death Of Seasons"
Partying: Rusted Root - "Food And Creative Love"
Happy dance: Fastball - "Good Old Days"
Regretting: Blind Faith/Joe Cocker - "Can't Find My Way Home" or The Verve Pipe - "The Freshman"
Long night alone: Idiot Pilot - "Lucid"
Death scene: Tool - "The Patient"
Closing credits: Led Zeppelin - "The Song Remains The Same"

The Rush, Part Four

2004-03-07T18:36:00.000-07:00

"To love, and to be loved. Let's hope that is enough."

"So sorry, so selfish."

I have reached a point of no return. I have been the edge, teetered on the thought of falling, then have executed my actions...without knowledge. I have fallen. And I see no reason to get back up. I see no reason for anything. I want to say sorry to everyone, for anything I've done. I promise you, something is there in those words. It's not a lie. I truly am sorry, for whatever I've done. But one does make mistakes. Mistakes...heh...I'm far too gone to even comprehend the meaning of a "mistake". There is nothing within me, and I'm sorry if it hurts. I'm sorry if I hurt you, or you, or you, or you...or anyone. I can't take things back.

Gravity. I fall and I fall, with no reason to scream in terror. Accepting. Accepting. Accept the change and things move on.

Accept.

The Rush, Part One

2004-03-05T22:46:00.000-07:00

I don't want to go back. What do I have to go back to? I want to have nothing to go back to. I want to never have to worry again. I want to be free. Break these shackles...break this chain...break my uselessness...crack my skull...let the blood flow out onto the ground. Watch it run like rivers in the soil...telling stories so quietly. Put me in a giant glass box labeled "GONE BAD", and put in Warehouse 136...never to be opened...never to be cared for. Watch me never struggle...I know what I deserve. Alone in my world.

I don't regret anything I've done; I don't regret my life. I don't think I regret anything at all. I just never know the good and bad decision. I never know when to draw my personal line...yelling to myself that there is something stopping me. Why the fuck should there be? I don't want to be stopped. I'm sick of it...I don't need to be trapped in this glass box my whole life. I think either I'm missing out on something...or I've forgotten what it's meant to live. To love. Something. Help me, please.

I'm giving up. I'm not losing my mind...I'm not losing my sense. I know exactly what I mean. I give up. I GIVE UP. Use someone else as a stand-in. I'm perfectly fine...I just don't care. I'm a person who's guilt dies in seconds. I never feel my heart being eaten up from inside. It's already gone. Guilt doesn't bother me. I could kill, and not feel guilty. I've reached a point where lies are survival, and I'm just a dummy on strings. A dummy.

A dummy.

Twelve Steps Back

2004-03-04T12:40:00.000-07:00

I decided to reverse my layout to dark. It suits how I'm feeling better. I don't know how to explain it better than that. So anyway, I stayed home today, because I needed to. I felt...feel...something...drained mentally, emotionally, and physically. I just wouldn't have been able stand the routine today. It doesn't really matter, because there isn't anyway to escape it. Tommorrow I have to go back. I needed sleep...I slept until 11:00 today, and it helped. I still feel drained. But it doesn't really matter. I can deal with it, really.

I don't know what I've been thinking about all day...or what I've been feeling really. It's been hard lately to really pinpoint what I've been thinking, because it seems to be jumping around randomly without particular pattern...and I can barely hold on to one thought at a time and put them all together. I guess I've been thinking about how people are way too worrysome...or how people are way too bitter. I'm one to talk (hypocrite of the century, right here), but it seems that compliments are now taken with sarcasm, worried opinions are now taken as threats or arguments, and every step you take forward is considered twelve steps back. People have been angry with me lately, and nothing else. People think they "know better" than me when I express an opinion. It all seems like a giant argument where everything I say does nothing to help.

You know what? It's okay. It's great. I mean, why shouldn't it be? All those reasons are petty and have no way of affecting my happiness in the end. I can let them all go, and move on. The beautiful thing about existing as a human being - we have the choice to let go of whatever we want. Sadly, none of us ever do. A lot of people hold on to all the bad things they are experiencing in their life, and focus on nothing else but them. Maybe that's why people are so bitter. They never see the better side of things. Again, I'm one to talk. At the same time, I have the right to change my mind. I'm not a hyprocrite. I have the right to change my opinion or outlook on things whenever I want, and doing so does not make my a hyprocrite. Right?

Madeline called me yesterday. I didn't get to talk long, because I was working on the Guys And Dolls t-shirt, and it was getting late (according to my mother). It was alright. I realize that even though I miss her terribly, I don't have to fall apart because of it. I talked to Elise for a little bit yesterday which was nice, as well as actually (do you believe this?) did some work for Project Forge. So, I'm getting somewhere. Maybe taking twelve steps back isn't such a bad thing. Maybe we're all moving in the wrong direction anyway.

It's Like Praying: What Do You Risk?

2004-03-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

I made a mix...I don't really know if I can call it that. I mean, it's the first successful attempt I have made to create a collection of music that truly captures the feeling I recorded so carefully in my heart during the last few days. There are some things in life you will never forget for some reason or another, and those few days I spent at Festival will probably be one of them. Why? Because for the first time, in a long time, I felt relaxed...alive...myself...at peace. So I made this mix; an assembly of emotion to convey the truth in my heart. And my ears.

It starts out quietly, at a relaxed pace; crooning so sweetly in your ears as if the sun is rising in front of you (Miles Davis and Friends - Caffaro's Theme). You feel the cool breeze against your skin, and you awaken so carefully as not to disturb the peace around you. You are relaxed, and one with the love you feel for the world. You are alive, and you love to feel so alive. The full story erupts from a powerful song of protest; of somewhat truth. A higher message (Bright Eyes - Method Acting). Emotions racing high...laced intricately with the realization that you make life as it is. You truly wish you could keep living this experience every night, but you know it could never be the same. It's once in a lifetime, and take it for what it is. "It's not a movie...no private screening...this method acting...well, I call it living." The painful cry of "on and on and on and on..." unleashes in your ears, and you begin to comprehend that there is never an end...never a beginning...it just IS. The world explodes in a motion-picture playback of the events so far. Everything around you seems like it could be placed in a movie...so cinematic (AFI - This Celluloid Dream). You feel twisted in your thoughts, confused and hurt. Hurt by what? You can barely see where you are going, and trip carelessly on broken hearts and a field of shed tears to gather enough energy to finally admit to some unknown power..."IN YOUR RADIANCE I MELT."

You let go of your frustration, and a pure feeling of exhaustion overcomes you. But still you are plagued by some unknown emotion...hiding somewhere deep inside (Evanescence - My Immortal). You can't decide if you are happy or upset...even the simplest of stereotypical feeling seems parallel and useless. You let go of everything and fall quietly into a world of half-life...aware of the world, but asleep inside. Time passes quickly, and nothing means more than being safe for once and all. So tired. You slip into a dream...an atmosphere of indistinguishable shapes forms images in your head. Clouded by understanding, you try and convince some unseen being that you really must mean something to world (Idiot Pilot - White Noise). You wouldn't suffer so much, unless you were needed. Unless there was some unknown reason to exist. "You suffer for them," the being calls back. You aren't anything in life but yourself, and you have to make yourself as alive as possible. "You're dying for a solo." You awaken. You're back where you started; you recognize your surroundings and smile. You have a second chance; you have another day. Another day to live. You search for others, hoping to share this unbearable amount of happiness with the world (Forever Down - Life Alone Is No Life At All). You smile endlessly. You can't keep it in; you can't explain it. You worship every breath of cold air as a blessing. You laugh like it's your last. Eat, drink, and be merry.

The world fast-forwards around you, and you are caught up in a flurry of misunderstanding. The problems and concerns of the world suffocate you (Radiohead - My Iron Lung). You strive to bring the world to happiness; why aren't they happy? Why aren't you all happy? You dance from face to face...each problem more suffocating than the last. You drop to your knees. Why aren't they happy? You're falling...You know you're trying. You're trying and trying to fix everyone else's problems. Then you stop. You stare into space. Why? It's NO BIG DEAL. Just forget this all and move on. Just forget this all and move on (Box Car Racer - Elevator). There isn't any important reason to suffer. There is nothing truly upsetting. It's all folly of emotion. Useless. You laugh. I mean, why stay like this? There isn't any reason not to live the beautiful life that is presented so gift-like before you. Hold it, cherish it. In the end, we're all that we've got. But what if you're wrong? You brace for the second side of the argument. The problems around you bind you in chains, and clamp you to a wall of despair. This prison holds tight; withstanding every struggle, every movement, every attempt for escape...(The Postal Service - This Place Is A Prison). Your emotions are ripped from your heart...you are drained of all remorse. Then it all floods back...overwhelming you...never-ending torture. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

You admit defeat. You are alone. The simple hand of a beautiful friend reaches out to grab you. You pull it in and never let go (Matchbox Twenty - You Won't Be Mine). They hold you...rocking you in their arms. You feel warm. You haven't felt warm forever. The chill in your bones lessens with every breath...every heart beat. What have you achieved? What is wrong? You have reached the lowest depths of the world around you, but have also tasted the sweet air of euphoria. What is wrong? You can't really understand...it's back to square one (Deftones - Pink Maggit). It's back to routine; it's back to life itself. It's back to something that you subconsciously tried to escape. Go back; you need it. So in ending, you have completed a trivial cycle. What for? You have lost meaning (Richard O'Brien (RHPS) - Superheroes). You close your eyes, and you wait for something. You haven't found it yet.

You wait. (The Credits Roll - You Are My Sunshine)

Drained And Then Flooded (Again And Again)

2004-03-01T11:15:00.000-07:00

I don't see the problem. With a lot of things really. Why is it such a trouble that I care for people? Does it matter that I can be friends with everyone - or try to- because I love people? Is it really a crime if this list includes "other" girls? I'm sick of people calling my friends "predators". I'm sick of everyone thinking "something" is "going on". Since when has it been custom to judge me off my friends and worry for an image? Fuck you if you can't trust me at all (you know who you are), and fuck you if you think you know me based off things like that. I know what I want in life and I'm doing perfectly well, thank you. I have Madeline, I have great friends, and I love where I'm going. So take yourself out to the curb and see if YOU can say that to yourself with assurance.

It's times like these when I really question if I'm living the right life. Everyone else thinks I'm doing it wrong. No, they KNOW I'm doing it wrong. They think they know everything. I know what's right for ME. So fuck you if you can't accept it. Your opinion drains me, and I can take care of myself.

Why does everyone think that someone is out to get them? Why is it so hard to accept that everyone should be treated with LOVE and respect? I'm sorry if I can't be the nice guy. Why is it wrong to love? For whoever is trying to make love an exclusive device that works only for individuals in certain situations - fuck you. Love is everything. Deal with it.

This Method Acting, Well...I Call It Living.

2004-02-29T13:32:00.000-07:00

So what do we do now...? When we've reached the highest point of euphoria

then crashed down to a sickly lullaby of dissapointment.

It's back to square one, really.

They feel safe almost inside of this mold they've created for themselves

that they feel exposed if they let through any of themselves...I say...

take the chance...but who am I to say what people do?

I feel like no one is themselves anymore...

and it's all ending slowly and quietly

until it finally crashes down in one triumphant sound of defeat.

THE SECOND BEST PLACE TO HAVE A CONVERSATION

is in a bathtub.

and I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

HALIGH! HALIGH! HALIGH!

Not a sound is made between miles and miles of misunderstood pain.

AND TEAR AND TEAR YOUR HAIR FROM ROOTS.

Our love would never die.

Fell under the weight of a schoolboy crush. So...

FUCK YOU, it WAS necessary. It was all necessary. Everything.

Every second and minute and hour...hide under the covers.

DON'T try and be brave...just run and run and run away.

For Now We Stand Alone.

2004-02-16T11:02:00.000-07:00

Over the last few days, I started to realize somewhat how the human race cares instinctively for only themselves as individuals but never as a collected whole. People are so worried for their own lives, that they forget that other people have their worries in their lives too - that maybe these worries could be eliminated by a simple collaboration of humanity. People are so caught up in their own stupidity that they forget that maybe, when the world ends, that they will be the last to go. Or maybe, they will be the first, and in the process of sacrificing themselves, they saved another. People scramble too much for their own well-being that they forget that we are all beings in a whole. Just picture that the world splits in half, and a fiery chasm of hate begins to swallow up existence as we know it. One person would climb so quickly out, and step on someone else to get that one foot higher. They would forget to offer a helping hand.

I don't know where I'm going with this. It seems to me lately, when I hear from other people - their opinions, lives, etc. - they seem to either be complaining or taking out some verbal revenge on the world. Where's the logic in that? I mean seriously, it doesn't help a situation to complain and complain and never do anything about it. It never helps anyone to lower yourself for sympathy, and suck life from your surrounding friends like a parasite bent on controlling love. It never helps anyone to whine because you didn't accomplish anything, and drag down the people that have. It doesn't even help you. How can you think you know what's right? I know you can ask me the same question, but at least my idea is a pretty good idea - instead of something completely illogical. How can you think to close your mind to the rest of the world, all the for the simple, stupid benefit of YOU? And even worse, how can you deny these things and never...EVER admit you were wrong.

How does it help?

Love Is Real...Not Just In Novels and Movies...

2004-01-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

Well, this week has been mixed. I've been happy, and sad. Putting it as black and white as that. I've been happy that I've been able to spend a lot more time with my friends - especially Alex D. and Rachel - as well as starting to spend some time with Irina and such. Yesterday, myself, JP, Andrew, and Rachel recorded "Psycho Killer" (for once and all) and it was great. We also recorded Andrew's "M" and "The Reaper Should Fear Us" (which, by the way, is random shit). It was great fun, and I think just all of us being around each other was even better than the actual process. I've been very happy. But I've been sad as well...sad with missing Madeline. I get to see her tommorrow, and then practice for Topper Revue on Sunday. It's been a mix week, let's put it that way. I don't know how else to put it.

Battle Of The Bands has officially turned into a popularity contest, so fuck it. We're still going to do it, but it's pretty fucking lame now that a band's following of minions is what'll win the battle. Since I think all of us know Laconic isn't going to win, I really want Left Of Center to win. It's so fucking awesome - most hardcore music to come out of Los Alamos since...ever. I just remastered the EP for them, and it's sounding decently good. Everyone should buy a copy! If you want one, talk to me and I'll tell you when I get some copies to sell. Well, anyway, on the Laconic scene - we just finished two new songs called "Lackluster" and "For The Ferryman". We'll probably be recording a 5-song demo/EP to sell at BOTB, so everyone who actually cares should come and support us so we can get some better equipment. The Marshall amp I want (not even the half-stack...dream on) is around nine-hundred dollars. That's one hell of a lot of EPs to sell.

Well, have fun kids.

There Is No Beginning To The Story (Self-Portrait)

2004-01-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

Alex and I wrote this short story during Geometry today. Have a looksee and comment (if the comments are working...)

The stone is always so cold when my barefeet hit the floor...but her embrace was always there to warm them. She rolled over quietly, still sleeping. Her arm draped over the pillow with divine grace. I hadn't done anything to deserve her...she was just there...shaping me as a person, watching over me, and making the waking hours tolerable. I rubbed my eyes, and thought silently of her voice, of it's sing song tone, while watching her chest move in and out - amazed by a beauty I could barely understand.

Once again it came to me, through all the terror, to take me back to that same moment simply seven years before. The thoughts flashed blindingly before me...dancing in my eyelids...forming clouds of confusion...and plaing clearly like a home video...questioning me...how had this happened? How could someone be the same after the bleach of time was through? This messenger for love eternal dozed on through the morning, and I would wait all morning just to see the light ill her empty eyes once again...I would wait. Could I wait, I didn't know. I didn't know anymore.

What was I waiting for? I loved her, but I knew this was forbidden. I knew that I had wronged. Rain started tapping on the windows, and I looked up from my position on the floor. With the rain came the urge to clasp her to me...but how could I? How could I even think of tocuhing her again until she came to understand the meaning of the night before...the night...had I wronged her? I had loved her...I swear I had. I had so carefully pulled her close to me, blind without reason, and kissed those perfect lips which had called for me so innocently for years. I held her so close - to feel the beating of her heart, and to assure me of her love...her undying love.

I'm just glad she lived her life...so she wouldn't see mine. So she couldn't see this uncertainty brewing thick in my delusioned soul. The worry of love...true love? Some love...that overwhelms me and brings these cold hard fears that shatter like the rain on the floor. This hopeloss drains me, and brings me closer to this decided end. Panics ran through me as I began to search for a way out, moving like a rat on a sinking ship. If I could just be gone before the angel woke and felt the contamination I had left on her...If I could just be gone. I stumbled blindly to the rain covered balcony...crying for escape. This railing held nothing...and I can prove...for once and all...

That I can't fly like her.

"Love's just an excuse to get hurt...and to hurt. Do you hurt? I do, I do, so hurt me."

Which One Of Us Would Be The Foolish One?

2004-01-04T00:45:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy my existence...and not for any particular reason that stands out above the rest of the human race...I mean, nothing special happened to me. I can think something did, and be damn proud of it...but I can just as easily admit that I am another simple soul. An angsty teenager trapped in a small town, surrounded by expectation and an overuling conformity that envelops another poor soul a day. It sounds too much like a Simple Plan song to be comfortable. I mean, I like this town. I like other towns. I have no problem with living here, or getting out of here. I mean, I'm here, and there isn't really anything I can do about it. Why not make the best of it? Simple beauty...It's the epitome of my enjoyment of life. I mean, tommorrow - I'll make a few phone calls. Spend some time with my girl, throw back a couple of laughs, melt into inumerous kisses...each one sweeter than the last. I'll practice some run-down songs on some run-down equipment with Laconic...make some obscene comments...and for what? For no purpose but to enjoy. I think that people either appreciate nothing...or only the future that they can so imagine so tangible in front of them. You're missing out on every second.

People don't even make the effort anymore. There too worried for their super-size fries...their haircut...their clothing. Their too focused on their deadlines...their lunchtimes...their enemies and never their friends. They fret so much for the homework...the grades...the relationships...the end. I don't know where people think they're going, but I hope they soon realize they'll never get there if they keep trying so hard. I've never met anyone who will blatantly tell me, when I ask, that they've had a wonderful day, or a wonderful past few weeks. People are too focused on the problems and the mistakes. It's like everyone is worried that they're being filmed, recorded, something...worried to impress. Everyone is too worried about dying. If you're so worried about dying, then why waste your living? I don't know how to put it any other way than people are TOO WORRIED. "So if you open your eyes...oh, what a sweet discovery...there is hope...there is joy...there is acceptance..."

I'd love to make you all smile. No matter how hard I'd have to try, I'd love to make you all smile and mean it. I'd love to spend a day with every single person who's ever read this...To spend a day. Why not? I mean what do you have to lose. I still want to have a crab dinner with Chris. I want to go to CBGB with Andrew. I want to go to another concert with Samantha. I want to go to Paris with Madeline. I want to have a therapy session with Melissa. I want to ride bikes with Jeff. I want to sing another song with Ian. I want another chance in everything I've ever appreciated. Just to appreciate it even more. Make it worth something. I want to play shows and have people listen...I want to release a message...a streetside martyr...I want for them to really listen. I want Melissa to hear what I'm trying to say...I want Madeline to smile at my love songs...I want Meg to know true meaning...I want to make everyone else happy. I don't really have to worry about myself anymore, I think I'm there. I think I'm there.

Happy 2003.

2004-01-01T02:27:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year, if that means anything. I don't think a new year should be celebrated. Every December 31st to January 1st of the next year should be a celebration of the last year...of everything that has happened. How are we supposed to know if the new year is going to be happy? Or well lived? Or lived at all? How do we know? So I say Happy 2003. I hope you had a wonderful time. So what will 2004 bring? Whatever you want it to my friend. All I can say is that you should probably let yourself have a day in front of a fire this winter, eating your favorite food and drinking your favorite alcholic beverage - if that is the case. You should probably soak in all the Bright Eyes' you can handle. And you should live.

And if you don't appreciate the chance for another year in your life just yet, go listen to "Padraic My Prince". That'll make you think.

G'night.

As A Light Shines Down From Heaven...

2003-12-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

My god in heaven...Or your middle eastern equivalent...you get the idea...Click to know what the hell I'm talking about...Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! I have to stand on my head!

Your Lungs Fill Like Parachutes.

2003-12-22T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a long time since I've bothered posting here. I actually feel kind of bad about it. I mean, I worked so hard to get the site up, and then I (as always) eventually grow out of the habit of posting here. I should really post more often...I have a lot to get out...and building it up over time doesn't help.

Well, it's December 22nd. Three more days until Christmas Day. I am excited...almost to the point in which I feel like a little kid again. But, for once, it isn't because I want presents. Or food. Or a beautiful combination of the both. I want two things...1) To spend some of it with Madeline and 2) See how people like the presents I got them. I feel for once that my presents were very personal...and in my opinion, perfect for the person. I'm greatly excited to see how everyone likes their gifts. I can't deny I want to know what people got me...if I got anything at all...I mean...if I was a "good boy" this year. I think I'm borderline.

Myself and my family cruised Santa Fe today...for looking, buying, and the cetra...I got two new albums. Both were absolutely amazing: Thursday's "War All The Time" and Bright Eyes' "Lifted, or The Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground". I am so happy with both albums - both artists are absolutely amazing. The subject matter of Thursday's album is very well produced...very well conveyed. The beauty of Oberst's work comes out full force in this album as well. Almost wanted to cry after each song. Conor is an amazing poet, and just as much so a musician. Other than getting two equally powerful albums today, we traveled down to the plaza and poked around. Two favorite Christmas things (officially): The Christmas Shop (all Christmas, all the time) and Peppermint Mochas. Starbucks or no-Starbucks...they still taste good.

Life is good. I get to see Madeline later tonight (I hope). Rachel at the moment is in Cancun, and I miss her greatly. I help Ian record Left Of Center's new EP...it's a working copy...pretty much a fundraiser for getting professional recording of the same material. It's pretty good as it is...definitely better than "The Fold" *laughs quietly to self* Sorry Greg, I couldn't help it. Damn swindling ninjas.

An Orphan Kept By Autumn Leaves...

2003-11-24T19:33:00.000-07:00

For once in a really long time, I had some beautiful control over my emotion today. Let me say, that out of all the days of the year, this is certainly not the best in a way. I mean, out of all the wonderful experiences and beautiful mistakes - this day really stood out like bright colors against a fading watermark backdrop. It contained all the elements of another stereotypical bad school day - numerous tests (all forgotten), a presentation (also forgotten), and all the basic worries from grade reports, final grades, and other useless emulators of nervousness (I mean, after tasting the beauty of life apart from homework and essays, you begin to realize that grades aren't that important). Letters in ink on paper shouldn't cause such hateful compassion. Suprisingly, none of these things ruined my day. Not even Madeline being out sick and myself coming down with something made this day bad. Something else...Something odd changed today. Maybe it was some strange test run that went wrong...or a mixture of emotions. Maybe it was realizing even more just how much I miss Madeline when she is gone, or how truly beautiful it is to ask someone to lunch - in purest simplicity - and sit there...talking...smiling...and altogether forgetting the day around you to just enjoy spending time with one another.

Something today made me even more grateful for another breath of life. I think about how I could be alone in this cold. An orphan within my own reality. An orphan that smiles at the fortune of the dead leaves in autumn - of how they fall so peacefully to rest. I'm not alone, and I'm so incredibly lucky to have the life I find myself living each day when I wake up. I wish I could share this feeling better than babbling off words that surely mean nothing more than jumble to anyone other than myself. How beautiful it would be to not worry at all...to give wondrous presents to the world at random...to smile back at the sun...to finally thank the world for having you...It's all only the beginning. It's only the beginning, but what a flawless beginning.

So, Would You Please?

2003-11-18T22:55:00.000-07:00

So, a lot has changed. Some things so quickly; so beautifully; so perfectly. Some things slowly medicated to alteration. Either way, things have changed.

The play, in it's entirety, is finally over. Saddening, yet a large relief in the end. I mean, in dreams, who wouldn't want performance to be an everlasting thing? In all practicality, it's just not so. Oh well, One Act auditions were today. I read my part and walked away. I don't think I've ever been this numb before.

Madeline brought up a question that - since then - I've been thinking about. It seems I look at life as boring, as long, and as tiresome. It seems that I don't find excitement in the little things - in all the things in life that...I guess, used to make me happy. I don't think I feel this way, but thinking never helps much when it comes to feeling, does it? I mean, I am happy when I see Madeline. I'm happy when I'm around friends...jesters...thinkers...and enemies even...I'm happy when I can think, learn, and truly understand the things that are rambled so uselessly about during class periods. I guess the routine of the school day and the feeling of utter futility that I fight so strivingly to ignore after I exit quickly from each day just gets to me after awhile. I find no use for electron configurations...the dot structure of elements...the theorem to determine that one segment is truly congruent to another...two-collumn proofs...the territory that the original Blackfoot tribe inhabited...I mean, in all my sensitivity...who cares? I, for one, do not. And, even though I do try so hard to find something to amuse myself with...something to find excitement and happiness in...I can't. I've never felt so numb before.

Until We Dance Away...

2003-11-10T23:32:00.000-07:00

I feel like dancing. My body can't understand this request, but my heart is flying foolishly around my body...trying to find a way out. Trying to somehow pull my body to dance to this undescribable beat; this music that floats so carefully through my ears, but I can't grasp for more than a split second. My heart has finally woken up and realized how much in this world that I take for granted, and how much that I can finally understand. I just want to dance...to let out all the things that make this world so wonderful. I look around me - hoping for something to casually explain how utterly in love I am with life and the beauty around me. Hoping that something will explain to me how lucky I am. I truly am getting nowhere with asking the nothingness around me. I truly am getting nowhere. That's the problem - I wish I could - I'm dying to finally reach some destination where I can finally dance without restrait. So I can finally dance.

Nobody knows. Nobody sees. Nobody knows, but me.

Supply And Demand. Reflected Glory. Release Me. Release Me.

2003-11-08T11:35:00.000-07:00

My lack of sleep is becoming evident. I haven't had a goodnight's sleep in a long time. It's not that I don't have the opportunity to get enough...it's just that, for some reason, I haven't been able to. The play exhausts me during the day, and school doesn't help either. When I finally get home, I don't want to do anything but sleep. I want to go to sleep at nine o'clock...eight o'clock even sometimes...but for some reason, I never can. When I do finally get in bed, sleep barely comes. Fantastic dreams of insanity have overwhelmed my thoughts as of lately. It's like I'm watching life from inside an abstract painting. I can't tell up from down - right from left - reality from dreams. I fall asleep while sleeping...I fall through seemingly solid ground just so I can't reach what I want...I can barely open my eyes without the fear that my dreams have become my reality. A lot of my dreams involve the play, or the normal school day...and quite a lot of the time Madeline. I don't know if this all means something, but if it does - I don't want to understand. Hopefully dreams do not tell of the future...or I'd die now, just to die happy. Let's just hope for the best.

My grades have been slipping quietly down the drain...my Geometry grade is nothing to laugh about, and Chemistry has definitely never been my best suit. I'm scared that I need to get both of them up, or I won't be eligible for Olions. I definitely can't have that happen now; at this time. I just can't have two F's, and I think I have that under control (hopefully). School is so trivial and unimportant compared to the things that I'd rather give my time.

I've been spending some more time with Melissa as of lately. It's really nice to talk and be with her again; I've really missed her as a good friend (as I've lately realized). It is a relief not to have to fight with her anymore either. It's like I'm practically getting to know her for the first time again. I've also spent a lot more time with Meg. She's just such a fun person! I've had so many conversations with her that make absolutely no sense, but that's alright. It's so crazy to spend time with her, but I wouldn't miss a minute of it. Altogether, I'm having so many experiences with new and old freinds because of the play (once again), that it's going to be so empty once the play is all over. It will be a lot like the withdrawl I've experienced after every performance I've been in during these two short years in Olions. One Acts start right after the last weekend of the play, so there won't be that much of a break to sit around and think about it. It's going to be a busy year; that's for sure. I'm definitely going to try out for the One Acts this year, and even if I don't get in...I'm still definitely going to tech if I can.

So, the show was last night. Mixed emotions? Nervousness? Was I scared? Not really. I was very excited by the time five-thirty rolled around, and I got my energy up my listening and jumping around to some Flogging Molly, and dancing foolishly with David, Trevor, and Robert to "I'm Too Sexy". I was pretty confident that I was going to do well, and wasn't really nervous. I guess it was because we had done it so many times, that I felt really comfortable with it all. I could focus my extra energy on "kicking it up a notch". And a lot of my friends and Mr. K said that I sure did kick it up a notch. But, tonight will be better. A second attempt is always better, right? The show altogether was amazing, and going on stage and bowing at the end gave me such an adrenaline rush that I didn't know what to do with all the energy. Tonight will be a lot of fun. Samantha is having her birthday party afterwards! I can barely wait until tonight.

Release me. Release me.

Another Dismantled Dream, Due Nov. 15th

2003-11-02T16:04:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here looking at the site, thinking about how to get all the links to work the way I want them to, while finding the most efficient way to do it. It's becoming incredibly annoying to know exactly what you want to do, but never being able to quite grasp how to do it. Gah, I wish my mind would translate directly into the code I need, but in the end, not possible. Sadly.

I went to see the Rocky Horror Show yesterday with my family as well as Tyler and Sam. The play was amazing; so well done - I found myself finding it hard to believe that Tim Curry wasn't playing Frankenfurter, or that Richard O'Brian had cut his hair, dyed it black, and took thirty years off his life to play Riff Raff. It was a great show, and Justin did remarkably well as Rocky. It was very odd to see him in gold briefs with bright blonde hair. All and all, it was a wonderful night, and once I got home, I sat uselessly at the computer until about three in the morning finishing this damn layout. Only thirty minutes ago or so did I finally work out the final bug. Damn thing. Oh well, well worth it in the end.

I think that I'm still going to audition with "Hanging Upside Down" for Topper Revue, but I will also audition with Sam for "Three Libras". I like both songs, but it would be so much energy to play a song with a horn section. I guess that's not exactly a fair arguement - there is a string part in "Three Libras", but it isn't exactly the same thing. I still think it would be utterly amazing to play a version of "The Noose", but altogether very hard to pull it off. I don't know exactly why I am worrying about Topper Revue now, considering it's in January. I have a couple of months to think about it, and also the auditions for the One Acts between that. Damn, so much work. Just like Jean said, November is definitely going to be my busiest month as well (for the most part).

I just realized that the play is going to be over and done with in only a short span of two weeks. In two weeks there will be no more Victor...no more Henry...no more characters to parade to the world on stage. Sadly, I feel that I will barely be able to talk to Hallie or Haylee again...nonetheless David and Alex. It's very weird to think about, and it always happens like this. I go through this weak withdrawl after shows, because I start missing it. It happened with Arsenic, and it happened with Grease...I always have an off-the-wall time at the cast parties and I always feel like I truly connect with everyone. I guess that's why I go through the withdrawl - I start missing that connection. I always say this, it always happens...but then something else starts up, and I completely forget, and start the cycle all over again. So, nothing really to worry about.

So, You Wanted To Go To The Show

2003-11-02T02:02:00.000-07:00

Well, so far so good. Life, and it's many distractions, along with these many overcrowded time blocks - complete restraint of course - that seem to make up most of the every day living that easily consumes me, is quietly creeping up like Frankenstein's monster on my sanity.

Business is now simply routine - such contrast to the lazy schedule that I used to live so trivially by. Every day is truly a new adventure, and I can never honestly say I'm prepared for the next shaking blow. It's so awkward to refer to my life as an "adventure" of sorts. It simply makes it sound as if I do not have control over it. I guess the simple question of contraction this time around would be...well, do I?

Rehearsals are becoming longer and even more tedious, but I do not mind the work at all. I mean, of course, that's what rehearsals are for anyway. Compared to my role and the other wonderful friends and actors that have lead the fall play before me, I have awfully high standards to strive for. All I can do is try. I have become closer and more comfortable with my fellow castmates. I am continuing to work at my role as Victor with ardor, hoping every day to do a little better, and step further into the reality of this mad scientist - but also this shy, awkward friend and lover. I strive to simply become Victor Frankenstein, in essence.

We had two run-through rehearsals last week. They were the first time that we had ran the entire show all the way through without stopping. I tried my hardest to connect - to truly step into my part, and become the fictional character that I have nursed for the last two months. I am very excited about the upcoming play, even though the number of lines, the skeletal set, and the missing props are laughing in my ear - nudging me to worry. Everything will be fine.

I have discovered another like mind in this reality of dreams, but also in parallel instances (not necessarily related to the upcoming lay which looms uncomfortably close). Also in dreams, in every day life, and another reality which we both dream to come true. I have made a wonderful friend in Alex - in which every day she shows me something new to think about. It's truly a rare occasion to find a friend that shares a love of fun, and also a love of thinking, of learning, and again - altogether living.

Other new friends have grown from the apparent "bonding" (to use such a brutal word) of the play. I have gained neutral battle ground with both Robert and Gideon, and have crossed social stereotypes by getting to know Haylee so much better. In the profound, simple, yet beautiful words of dearest Andrew - "You are definitely going to become the next...Jordan Daniel". How unbelievably true my friend - not only in all literal sense, but also in the way that I am becoming so close to reaching all the beauty I so carefully allotted for myself in life. I believe I was just very lucky.

So, here is the new GlassAgainstGlass. I think I have it all covered now - the journal, the comments, the lyrics, the artwork - I was getting sick of all the accounts strewn all over the place, so I decided to move everything to one domain (www.glassagainstglass.com). Not all the links are working, because I have a lot of work still to do, but here is the main gist of it. As for Diaryland, I will virtually be non-existent there as of now (it was a good run, I must say). I will use LiveJournal for community connection with my friends, but not for posting. Finally, a home.

I picked up Autumn for the first time in awhile a couple of days ago. I opened the case, and I could barely wait to play. She was perfectly in tune - just the way I left her - and every note seemed even more pure and beautiful than the last. My fingers itch to record again with Cragin, and get back into the studio to finish my demo.

Oh well. The night awaits.