Well now, where were we? The truth is I don't fucking know. Since I've last written i've mostly been in a semi-drunken haze filled with Christmas trees, the north jersey version of an irish pub, Mario Kart, Zelda, bowling alleys, driving with open containers, and Hoboken. In the past two days I've been asked to play football and ultimate frisbee and both times have had to declilne. My body is pretty banged up. I went from hardly eating and never sleeping during the tail end of my fall semester to fiendishly wolfing down food and sleeping until all hours of the day here in good ole Wayne. I recommend neither, my friends - as the body, head, and heart are certainly not helped by either over or under indulgence relative to normalcy.

Normalcy, however, is my new plan for the remaining days of my vacation. I have a blank calendar in front of me from now until the 4th, when I return to Boston, and plan on using it in the best way I can think of given my carless circumstances... sleeping at normal times, equal parts relaxing and getting back into shape, and enjoying the bulk of my time with the individuals I know are worth spending these few and far between "home hours" with.

I sure hope that everyone has had a relatively painless holiday season thus far and that all is well with anyone and everyone who matters to you. If for nothing else, the holidays at least force people to consider those in their lives... whether out of forced, phony circumstances of the "they always buy me a gift so..." sort or genuine caring. I hope that either way, your evaluations of those in your life have left you feeling good about yourself. Cheers, I trust I'll be writing more before the New Year, so I'll save that 'see ya next year' bullshit until then. --

Was going to write about Return of the King.. but there's really no point. Unless you're a fucking idiot you will go see this movie... ten times.

Here's some snippets from a conversation between Paul and I for your amusement... slightly edited to keep us from being arrested / committed, of course:

Paul: you see that shit penny arcade is doing?
Chris: toy drive? i wanted to donate
Paul: http://www.shacknews.com/ja.zz?id=9004888, check out the second reply
Chris: Sad way to look at life?
Paul: hahahahahHAHAHA, i made the original post
Chris: dinglebean gave it away
Paul: i thought you knew i posted it, im just happy someone sad i have a sad outlook on life
Paul: whats up in your department, get hammered last nite?
Chris: no, for a change. saw return of the king
Paul: ass hurt?
Chris: yeah man. so fucking long. plus the theater didn't adjust their temperatures for the humidity. it was like 50 degrees outside here yesterday and they had the heat going full blast in the theater.. 45 minutes in it was like 90 degrees and didn't stop... the whole theater was shedding clothes and it stunk like a locker room
Paul: ew. but entertaining maybe a bit
Chris: plus, like 90% fat dudes in the theater
Chris: but it was awesome. i liked it a lot. although there's is one incredibly, incredibly homo-erotic scene
Paul: the end when frodo is caressing sams head?
Chris: all of the hobbits are bouncing around on a bed... and one by one in slo-mo all of the guys from the original felowship walk in the room with smiles on their faces and just stare and watch all googly eyed
Paul: hahahah. aragon is hot
Chris: all the bitches love legolas

Chris: nobody will listen to me and seek out Cex
Chris: tracks 1,5, and 6 off of being ridden dammit!
Paul: i cant get it, why cant i see your files on soulseek?
Chris: i don't know. i said i'd look yesterday and forgot, you can get one of those songs at www.rjyan.com
Chris: go to discography... i think it's 6, Cex At Arms Length.. which is definitely not the best of those three... but still good upon repeat listens. but better accompanied by the other, more upbeat songs.
Paul: dude puking in a toilet? or cutting his wrists?
Chris: haha... the one with his arm up in the air.. which is identical to a cover of an old david bowie album. but not the one with the tape over his mouth.. that's the instrumental version
Chris: he just put out a new album called Maryland Mansions but i haven't listened to it yet.
Paul: i like this
Chris: dude, it's bad ass. Bright Eyes + Eminem + Nine Inch Nails
Paul: calm insanity

Paul: u listen to any leo kottke? i asked you this before
Chris: don't think so. never listened
Paul: song 3 on regards from chuck pink
Chris: good?
Paul: id say yes
Paul: others would cast me out
Chris: you have at home?
Paul: yea

Chris: i think the new Cex has a little Paper Chase thrown into the mix.... i hear he's going crazy
Chris: he's 21/22 years old. sounds about right.
Paul: haha, excellent, i like that arms length song
Paul: reminds me of something... mc 900 ft jesus
Chris: yeah, his voice... he raps a little better on the other tunes
Chris: while we're at it
Chris: Constantines - Shine A Light - Song 5, Young Lions
Paul: word, will check out.. take it easy, gotta paper this out
---

Many people I started school with here in Boston are graduating today. Part of me wishes I was leaving with them. Another part of me hopes that these next 4 or 5 months will be the best yet. Who knows. You're dealt a hand and the best you can do is fucking play it. --

I spent last night living in a bit of a time warp. My friend, Mike, with whom I traveled across the country two summer's ago during his move to San Diego was back in town for a few days and needed a place to stay. We grabbed some dinner and a pitcher of Pabst at the Other Side Cafe' on Newbury, the local hipster eatery. While I half-drunkenly snacked on my prosciutto sandwich and pasta fagiole I listened to Mike talk about his life in San Diego. He was talking about things like leaving for tour just after the new year, being vegan, and peta protests while I just kinda sat there googly eyed without really being able to muster up any sort of response. Understand that I mean no disrespect... but I couldn't help but think about how far passed all of those kind of things that I was. Maybe it's that I was never really "in" it at all. Maybe I was just a passive observer, dipping my toe in the pool and realizing that it was either way too hot or cold to actually swim in. Instead I opted to sit shirtless the whole time in a lawn chair next to the water, letting the sun bronze my skin... reaping the benefits of the situation but not actually engrossing myself in it. And now that the sun's gone for the day I'm inside getting ready to flaunt my new tan and head out to tackle bigger and better things while the rest of the suckers are bitching about being tired or cramps. Still with me? Good, because if you've made it this far I'll reward you by ending this terrible metaphor before it exposes any more holes in my ability to write than it already has.

Mike, however, is a very dear friend and I appreciated being able to spend time with him. To be honest I never thought I'd ever see him again. One pitcher and one six pack of Honey Browns later I passed out on my couch, just 5 minutes into Run Ronnie Run, happy that I was able to experience this introspective night. It couldn't have come at a better time. I certainly wish Mike the best of luck with his future plans. His band, Tamora, does in fact kick you square in the balls with some fairly heavy hardcore and their debut EP will be out soon on Happy Couples Never Last, I suggest checking it out when it does. For the record, openly admitting that I've forever traded in my hipster clothes for that really nice new shit from Banana Republic doesn't still mean that the music I listen to isn't ten times cooler than yours, bitches.

I had a late night phone call around 3AM that I still can't decipher the meaning of. While I'm sure that the phone call itself was real, its dreamlike qualities of being cryptical and curious but probably meaningless have been haunting me since I hung up the phone about 17 minutes after I answered. --

I'm trying to not feel a general dissatisfaction with everything right now, but it's not easy. I've found myself able to get caught up in a couple of things these past few days... things that are able to distract me for a few minutes here and there, but for the most part I'm walking around in a dense fog, completely oblivious to any opportunities that might exist to shake me out of this mindset.

Some of my minor distractions:

Office Xmas party on Saturday night: About three hours after arriving to the party I looked up and realized that there were six of us standing on one side of the room by ourselves, right next to the bar, with a half-empty handle of Russian Vodka at arms length. The six of us that were anchored to this position for God knows how long were all current or former students of Northeastern University. The MIT and Harvard grads were standing around the grand piano watching the owner of the company's son bounce back and forth between Christmas carols and classical compositions. A few of them had poured some wine and were a bit red in the face, but it was nothing compared to the beet red in our glorified screwdriver drunk eyes. Go NU, eh? After the party ended, a few of us headed downtown to An Tain where a fellow employee was hosting a children's toy drive. Drinks are cheap at An Tain and the only price of admission to get into the bar was a children's toy. Julie and I tried to pick something up at a CVS before heading into the bar.. but it was closed. Luckily my friend running the event let us in without the toy, as long as I promised to bring him one on Monday...

FAO Schwartz: ... which brings me to my next distraction. Toy shopping for a gift at FAO Schwartz the following day. It sure sounded like a great idea at the time.. but once the snow came it kinda soured everything and ruined what could've been a good time. John, Jules, and I made the best of it by eating about $50 worth of Jelly Belly's and then settling on a Lego toy for the charity. The fact that we drove over there, parked on a snowbank, and rushed home to beat the remainder snow instead of taking a bundled up winter walk with hot chocolate kinda killed the whole idea.

Terminator 3: Awful. Embarassing. I just deleted a 200 word rant on why I didn't like this movie...

And do you know why I deleted it? Because I realized the whole thing was just an excuse to write circles around the fact that I really have found nothing to distract myself from being upset. Because every time I try to trail off down a new idea path my eyes shoot over to the unopened pile of packages sitting on my desk. The boxes that contain items that were purchased with a recipient in mind and now have no owner other than the brown cardboard and bubble-wrap surrounding them.

Apologies for delving into the meta-fiction today... I didn't set out to write in the way I did but that's just sorta how it played out.

fuckya

im at school and i have a lingering effect of zero self worth to make myself feel like a better person. i cant for the life of me figure out how i have two entries back to back. so what to chat about while i whittle away the ginger tea.

first, trizzle
trazzle
bizzle
wazzle
woooooooooo

what a fucking game. its by the people who made giants, planet moon, really rowdy roozin doozles. i sent an email to the people that made the game and actually got a response back from someone on the development team. of course those screencaps do it no justice, because in motion its like a river of honey milk and butter. smooth like a shitbag.

but videogames. its what i do when i have homework. im actually physically hurt from playing that one. if your in a chair, dont sit there for 8 hrs. if you have a data entry cube job, id say youd want a lack of job security. the glow of the monitor is starting to show in your attitude, ie you have none and noone likes you.

haha, but we joke sometimes dont we. its like a river of honeydew sauce. jimmy watches this show angels in america, but whatever. its this guy niraj who transcends time and sticks with ya like honeysauce. once a whole goozle of goobles was froozlen in the boozle dooze (name rhymes with madison fur, her basement) , and we were boozin and snoodin on the bood. well i took a book of india and threw it on the ground cause in my head i thought provoking people was silly and fun and niraj is an easy target cause he looks funny. yeah, that just sat with me, not like he has any attachment to india or anything just cause its stupid. not saying it bothers me that much, just saying sometimes carrying things on you tend to forget about universal human respect. where the fuck is this goin.

so cheese and santas and santas cheese wheel, spin and turn and yearn for burns, am i rite. i garuntee you there is more enjoyment than youre willing to admit in those times you just dont feel like carrying on, dont be shrewd. are you sick of yourself.

so what are you folks reading, anything to recommend? ive been trotting along with don quixote and sancho panza in that book about them that is big. its fun and funny. interesting too. but how much is too much. just really tired and typing as it flies in waving as it leaves. yeee

id like to say that i forgot my password and thats why i havent updated in a while, but i forgot my password when trying to make this post. i see no promise in you anymore, kid, thats why i neglect you. ya see, when a child is growing neglect is the greatest form of love. its like the man behind the curtain, i aint lookin.

i took out letting off the happiness to listen too, and after my cd player barfed it back a couple times i realized i do like song three.. very mature all considered. plus its got the fem vox.

if you asked me to describe my room id say it has unread newspapers everywhere.. i blame school for making the papers free. usually every day i have school i take a nytimes and a record, good stuff. but since my cat is incontinent and my dog eats catfood then shits it on the rugs, i line that unused paper over everything and bathe in the odor..

speaking of which i was in cape may for the thanksshitbag and there is a store called good sense. i procured some incense that is described on the box as "a transporting aromatic experience" - shit made my eyes water. incense is pretty valuable but invaluable at the same time. id see it as one of the best values for the money, specially when it makes your eyes burn.

saw 21 grams in the theaters and i highly recommend it. asking for natural born killers for xmas. gonna put eyes wide shut donnie darko and natty born killers right on the teevee. tonite, this nite in time, the toronto maple leafs have beaten the boneheaded boston bruins 6-0. blanked em the fuck out. i hate the boston team, but hate only cause they were playing toronto. in terms of real hatred, i hate the flyers the most. bruins fall into place somewhere way behind.

school is rapping up and so is my life. nothing to joke about but i heard the expression 51/50 tonite and i was awed by it. expiration date running sour and whatnot. warranty is up.. for a game, how many allusions to death can you make using real world mechanix. deedle.

imri tells me soulseek is belching fire lately. thats pretty sad. sad like music journalism. sad like chris's written but never published updates. but really, its so easy to take a shot at leno, truth is, the mans out there, every nite, with fresh material. im out

Happy turkey day. I'm so fucking hungover right now that I'm pretty sure the sight of thanksgiving dinner might make me puke all over grandma.

If I did something silly like tell you that I was leaving to go to the diner... let you wait in the parking lot... and then just forgot to come out and meet you I truly apologize. Please understand that the combination of Soco and lime, countless Bud Lights, and the Coors Light 40 oz. that I drank and seeing people that I otherwise would've thought dead was just a bit too much for my little head to handle. I'm pretty sure that I remember falsely telling Kelly Henry that that she was one of the coolest people that I'd ever met and sending shots over to a girl with braces just because I thought it'd be funny to send shots over to a girl with braces... ? *

Jersey has its faults, that's for damn sure... but from where I'm sitting, facing the "where am I going to start my life?" decision... I don't think there'd be any other place I'd rather do it. While that might not happen, I enjoy knowing that if it did I'd be among good people. --

I know for sure that when the second hand on my clock reaches the number nine it begins ticking and continues doing so until it comes around to the number three. I'm not quite sure why my clock only ticks while the second hand is passing through the top-half of my clock... but I never noticed it before this weekend.

I know for sure that the glowing stars that the previous occupant of my bedroom stuck to the ceiling above my bed can be blindingly bright at 4AM. Bright enough to grab ahold of your attention while they laugh at you for wishing to be anything but conscious. Before this weekend, they've never kept me up or laughed at me before.

I know for sure that the busses stop rolling through the Mass Ave station at around 2:45AM and that they start up again at 6AM, and while I might have known that previously, I never noticed this from my bedroom before this weekend.

I know for sure that once I took away the pictures I couldn't stand to keep on my walls that there is an overwhelming amount of white in my bedroom. And as the moonlight dances through the tree branches waving in the wind ghastly images can haunt me on those white walls all night. I was never haunted by anything in my bedroom before.

What I don't know is how two people can be walking down the street and spot a newlywed couple with an infant, prompting one of you to grab ahold of the other's arm so tight and stare lovingly into the other's eyes... and only two days later that same person that grabbed the other's arm be able rationalize that the two cannot be together at this juncture in their lives.

What I don't know is how someone can go from spending months praising the fact that you were older and more mature than other people they've dated, and then turn that very same thing into being a reason that they can't be with you.

What I don't know is how I let my guard down enough to let myself feel this way. To let someone else's decisions render me feeling helpless. I've spent my whole life laughing at the helpless and now I can't stand the site of myself for having joined their ranks.

I feel like I know so much about the unimportant things and don't know a goddamn thing about what's important. I feel like so much of what I've believed in was a dream, and now that I've woken up I'm facing the most painful of realities. I know what my mistakes are. I'd wear them on my sleeve for all to see if I thought it'd help. But to feel like there's no such thing as forgiveness or a chance to change in life has left me feeling more dissapointed than I've ever thought possible. --

I'm a computer.

Verizon has inexplicably decided to cancel my DSL service at home. Well, that's what technical support said... although they didn't know why. The sales department said that my account information is just fine.. and that we should be receiving normal service. A meeting of the minds' of the sales and technical support departments also could not come to a conclusion, so they both decided to transfer me to the retention department... who couldn't for the life of them figure out what the fuck these two idiots were talking about. Before the conference call got any larger... we decided that the only way to get back online is to cancel my service, which takes three days. And then sing up for service again.. which takes 7-10 business days. With Thanksgiving next week I'll be lucky if I'm online by fucking Christmas.

At least they're refunding every dime I've paid them since September and are giving me a free month free once our service kicks back in.

S'all good, though. I fucking hate instant messenger anyway.. and if it weren't one of the only way to communicate with folks back in Jersey I probably would've trashed it awhile ago. I guess the only drawback is not being able read the Tard Blog and GI Joe skits over at boredatwork.com that everyone's been talking about. Oh well. --

Ahhh... clean undies.

I own 32 pairs of underwear. That means that I can go 32 days without doing laundry, unless I take part in any physical activities that require an undies change. Soccer season is over, however, and I've reverted back to being a lazy sonuvabitch that sits in front of a screen doing his best to earn miniscule paychecks, so I'm pretty much working on the one pair per day method. As I've mentioned more times than anyone gives a damn about on this website, I'm busy. Sometimes too busy to do laundry. In the past, my extensive underwear selection has insured that I'd be able to continue wearing the best of my best boxer shorts without running out and taking to the reserves. The reserves, my friends, are the old pairs of boxers that should've been retired years ago. Some have holes in completely ridiculous places while others offer absolutely nothing in the form of waist elasticity, which means that unless they're pulled over my pants and clamped with a belt, they will fall down way farther than is comfortable. While never preferred, at least the reserves offer me the security that I need to get my ass to the laundra-mat. Apparently I've become too busy to do even that, however, because ther reserves are completely gone. That includes the waist-band-less pair that I bought in 8th grade as well as the infamous "Marc Noll's Bar Mitzvah" pair that don't quite keep the boys under control, if you know what I mean.

That's it. I'm out. Done. And you know what? I have no time to get the laundra-mat this afternoon, either. So folks, if you see me walking down the street today and decide to talk to me... do it knowing that you're talking to a kid who is most definitely wearing yesterday' underwear.

My mom would not be proud. --

I'm in one of those "I haven't heard anything new in awhile" musical ruts that I get into from time to time and it's a bit frustrating. There has been one shining exception, though. Whenever I am most frustrated I've been reaching for my copy of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless. I suppose all of this Kevin Shields / 'Lost In Translation' chit-chat is what got me thinking about MBV again. And I'm ok with that. It's been like stumbling upon a photograph of a forgotten event and suddenly being able to remember an insane amount of detail that would've otherwise slipped away. It might seem strange to liken a record to this kind of feeling... but if there's any record that challenges the mind's ability to separate senses, it's Loveless. Anyone with a keen ear should be able to fucking SEE and SMELL this album while listening to it. If not, I'm terribly sorry.

I've been reaching, to a lesser extent, for Isn't Anything also, which is enjoyable... mostly just the final third of the album, though.

I've asked Mr JK of egofamine fame to assemble a 14 track mix of the best songs on the new Speakerboxxx and The Love Below album(s) by Outkast. Once assembled I'm hoping that maybe I'll have something else to listen to. Until then, it's back to late 80's and early 90's for my ears. *

On a different note, I had a dream last night that I assembled a band to play a Screeching Weasel tribute show. I've thought about doing this as a one-time gig for Plow United, but never Screeching Weasel. I certainly enjoy entertaining both of these ideas... and wouldn't be surprised if I try to have them play out if I ever move back to Jersey near the people that I know would be willing to help out. In case you're interested the first three songs we played in the tribute show were the cover version of "I Think We're Alone Now", "Kamala's Too Nice" (which we changed to "Samantha's Too Nice" even though I don't know anyone named Samantha), and "What We Hate." I'm not quite sure what the rest of the setlist consisted of... but I remember knowing that it was all songs off of the albums before How To Make Enemies and Irritate People and B-Sides and that we closed the show with "My Brain Hurts." Who knows... maybe someday? --

From the ages of three to about thirteen there was no individual on this planet more important to me than Don Mattingly. Regardless of how silly it is to worship someone that you've only seen on television or from about one-hundred yards away while sitting in the nosebleed section at Yankee Stadium, something about Donnie Baseball struck me at a young age and has continued to stay with me all these years. Even in the darkest times, when my heroes were more likely to be found in the depths of a downward spiral or mindlessly ordering the masses to rip the system!, I kept my Don Mattingly bookshelf intact, complete with every Topps card and tons of other memorabilia. I'm very happy to have Don Mattingly coming back to the New York Yankees. I couldn't care less about the people who think it's a PR move aimed at making people forget the past few weeks. I think it's good for New York and I think it's good for baseball. Now... good god-damn, can we finally get this man a ring boys? *

Today on the orange line, while sandwiched in between a woman reading "A Chance on Lovin' You" by Eboni Snoe and a woman that looked a lot like a girl present in the first internet pornography photograph I ever saw, I reached my newest peak of 'wanting to move out of the city-ness'. I have only three pairs of clean underwear left and pray that I can find an hour sometime before I run out to actually do laundry. My pantry is completely empty because going to the supermarket requires about a week of pre-planning and schedule shifting that I just can't get a handle on. Between breakfast, lunch, and dinner I blow at least $25 a day and don't get anything better than fast-food and bagels for it. On a rare case I'll live it up with Thai Food from Pad Thai on Boylston, which is the good Thai equivalent of Boston Market compared to your grandmother's mashed potatoes. Sheesh, it's time I got back to the good life.... (less than 6 months and counting) *

Taking a look at this list of most expensive colleges makes me sick. Notice all of those locations? Why the hell couldn't I have been born in the midwest? Or the south? Or Antarctica? For fucks sake why is everything so goddamn expensive here? --

boo

Dear Red Sox management,

We already have one over-paid "power-hitter" that comes nowhere close to performing up to what his salary indicates... and our over-paid guy doesn't have that shitty attitude. Thanks, but no thanks.

With love,

New York*

Devils / Flyers tonight... Yankee manager's heads rolling... Lebron living up to the hype. It's a good time for professional sports.*

For the first weekend since I began working my weekend job, which was just over three months ago, I have a Saturday and Sunday off. I know the idea of a "weekend" is something that comes fairly natural to most people, but the thought of having absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be for two straight days is a foreign feeling at this point. Sort of like a mental version of having a doctor take blood from your arm. You've felt it before.. but you approach it with caution.. and even when it's happening you can't help but think "this.. certainly.. feels weird." Yeah. So it's like that.

The leaves are golden, red, and yellow in New England and the smell of fall has overpowered the not quite missed smell of rotting trash that summer brings to the city of Boston. The weather for this weekend calls for mid-60's and I've got a pimp-ass Richie Tenenbaum costume ready to roll. Tomorrow's pay-day. If you don't mind me saying... "shit, life is good." *

When I boarded the train this morning there was a slight drizzle outside. When I exited the train, which marks the beginning of my 15 minute walk from Downtown Crossing to Boston's oft forgotten Fort Pointe Channel district, I was confronted by a monsoon. Or a Hurricane. Maybe a Tsunami. Regardless, it sucked. It's worth noting, I think, that it all come to a pleasant drizzling end as I walked into my office building. Despite the umbrella that Marissa donated to help keep me dry, my pants were... and remain 5 hours later... completely soaked. Solid. *

I'm a rap moron. 100% oblivious to almost all hip-hop music. Probably because I'm whiter than white and just don't get it. Or care to take the time to get it. However, everytime I've listened to Outkast I've thought to myself... "wow, this is what hip-hop should be." More to come on Outkast tomorrow or so... *

I've picked up Final Fantasy Tactics Advance one day before what could quite possibly be the most difficult mid-term of my college career. Good thinking, eh? While my studying for the mid-term has been minimal at best, I'd like to note that I've won two battles and found some fucking herb that some dude at a bar asked me to find for him. I had to kill monsters to get it. It was pretty sweet. *

But anyway.... let me talk to you about the salad bar.

I like the salad bar. Once a week I make sure that I eat lunch at the deli down the block from my office and purchase vittles only available through the self-service salad bar. Despite my reservations about items like "community potato salad" and "community feta cheese blocks" I feel that this is a healthy thing to do considering most of my home-cooked meals consist of steak and a baked potato and most of my dining out consists of hamburgers and fries. I certainly have no weight concerns to speak of, but fear of my little heart shutting down in a fit of grease drenched anger has crossed my mind from time-to-time, and my weekly salad bar trip is in direct response to that fear.

Putting together your salad at this particular establishment is quite involved. You see, the containers that they provide you are of the bowl likeness, without separate compartments for incompatible items. Anyone who knows me well certainly knows that I under no circumstance can deal with eating more than one of any type of food at once. Steak and potato? Steak first, potato second. Pasta and garlic bread? Garlic bread first, pasta second. Under no circumstances can a bite of vegetables be eaten in between bites of meat. I suppose it's a bit obsessive compulsive, but most of my life is surrounded by ridiculous obsessive compulsions, so there's nothing I can do about it but deal.

It's difficult however, in the context of the salad bar, to make this work. For instance, I really like potato salad. I also really like jalapeno peppers. I REALLY enjoy taking a bite of leafy greens drenched in ranch dressing to find a delicious spicy surprise therein. Conversely, the thought of taking a bite of potato salad and finding a hint of jalapeno-like flavoring is enough to make me nauseous. The fact that both of these items are available in the salad bar, combined with the one compartment container makes for some interesting attempts at keeping incompatible items separate.

Last week I put the potato salad on the bottom of the bowl. I then put a layer of iceberg lettuce over it and began concocting the green portion of my salad. This failed however, as most of the dressing leaked through to the bottom and left me with ranch potato salad... not very tasty. This week I added an element that I think has put me on the right track. I again put the potato salad on the bottom, feeling that my initial instinct was correct, but this time instead of a protective layer of flimsy iceberg lettuce, assembled a protective layer of croutons and those hard crackers that look like noodles. While certainly a far cry from the eureka that I had been hoping for, the dressing was mostly kept away from my salad and the only thing that managed to make its way down to the potato salad were little chopped onions, which were actually a welcome addition. My biggest problem with this, however, was the crouton and noodle wall. I had no interest in eating it since it had on one side been touched by the salad-items and on the other side been touched by the potato salad. I searched for a way to dispose of it but could not come up with anything other than the "push it to the side method" which ended up leaving me with nearly half of my potato salad layer going to waste. I would have like to scrape the infected crouton wall into the trash, but since the economy shit the bed the cleaning people only come once a week... and the idea of having potato-salad and ranch dressing crouton odor wafting up towards my nose for the rest of the week is hardly appetizing.

I'm hoping that I haven't hit a brick wall here.. and that in due time I'll be able to enjoy both a salad and potato salad together but separate, while minimizing waste. When I overcome this battle I'll be sure to relay the method to you, dear nonexistent readers. *

On the way to work this morning my subway train broke down in between Hynes Convention Center and Copley. About 15 minutes later we were allowed to exit the train at Copley and walk our asses in the rain to Back Bay without a free transfer. I showed up about 25 minutes late to work. I'm still alive, though. Still kickin'. *

My favorite two sports franchises, the New York Yankees and the New Jersey Devils, are completely in shambles. Without making some power moves the Yankees are looking dangerously close to falling apart next season. I don't doubt that Steinbrenner will make moves... I'm just worried that the morale has broken down so much that it's irreparable. The best Yankee teams of the late 90's consisted of a strong Roger Clemens and David Wells, a young Mariano Rivera and Bernie Williams, and a still kickin' Paul O' Neal. Take all of those things out of the picture, add-in a game 6 loss to an expansion team, a young "star" that can't NOT swing at low and outside pitches for the life of him, the possible departure of a stunning as-of-late Andy Pettite, a goddamn jihad declared between coaches and the aging owner, and you've got yourself a pretty lousy situation.

And the Devils... for fucks sake... I remember sitting there in a bar on the Seaside Heights boardwalk last year watching the swamp monsters holding the cup over their heads victorious, off of one of the most amazing post-season runs in history. 0-4 at home boys? What's the deal?

While I don't know where I'm headed after graduation... my recent luck would indicate that I should head right back to Jersey just in time to watch my two most beloved teams fall apart at the seams. *

FUCK YOU TO THE PEOPLE THAT SHATTERED THE PASSENGER SIDE WINDOW OF MY CAR THE NIGHT BEFORE I WAS TAKING IT BACK TO JERSEY.

FUCK YOU TO THE MOTHERFUCKER THAT FAKED AN INJURY LAST NIGHT WHILE I WAS DRIVING A COMPANY CAR AND WILL MOST LIKELY SUE EITHER MYSELF OR MY PLACE OF WORK, WHICH WILL AT THE VERY LEAST COST ME A LOAD OF AGGREVATION AT WORK OR POSSIBLY EVEN MY FUCKING JOB.

seriously... i couldn't be more fustrated with my ridiculous amount of god-awful luck. i'd like to think that i'm a pretty damn good individual and i'm pretty sure those who know me well think the same. if this is karma... what the fuck did i do wrong? or conversely, when the fuck is my luck going to change?

i've grown a pretty thick skin lately. generally speaking most aspects of my life are incredible. however, this recent string of events (to bring you up to speed... car being totaled by my brother, apartment burning down, being robbed at knife point on top of the two caps-locked events up top) has really taken a toll on me. so enough. i give up. you win. goodnight. --

I guess it sounds kind of silly to say goodbye to someone that you didn't even know... and I feel like a little bit of a hypocrite for having poked fun of individuals who express grief over the loss of a person in the public spotlight... but I would quickly like to publicly say goodbye to Mr. Elliot Smith. Your music has struck me in ways that other music never has on multiple occasions and I am forever grateful for that. May your art live on forever in the hearts and minds of those who truly understand. --

Last Saturday night I had the privilege of being robbed at knife point. I was walking through the Southwest Corridor, a walking path that's parallel to Columbus Ave and Huntington Ave, at midnight with my friend Ken. It had been a long day filled with drunkenly watching Pedro Martinez beat up on old men and Yankees relief pitchers beating up Fenway Park grounds keepers. The city was certainly filled with hostility but the incident that I am speaking of now had absolutely no connection to all of that.

As we made our way towards Mass Ave on the Corridor four nice young gentleman appeared before us walking in the opposite direction. One of these nice young gentlemen, a little bit on the overweight side, decided that it would be easier to shoulder check me out of the way while passing than to politely meet me half-way in a "normal" people-passing manner. Another one of these nice gentleman sporting a halloween mask decided his tactic would be to trip Kenny, a kid that is way larger, in better shape, and certainly more ill-tempered than myself. Normally while in a fairly drunken state, despite my own size disadvantage I'd probably respond to a situation like this with something along the lines of "are you fucking kidding me?" or a "what the fuck was that for?". However, upon sizing up these gentleman, both Kenneth and I opted to continue on our way, with me throwing in an "excuse me" for good measure. Unfortunately my polite comment was returned with a "you're not going to fucking say you're sorry?" Despite my previous attempt at sucking up my pride and putting the blame on myself I couldn't find it in myself to offer up an apology, and fired back with "I said excuse me."

We continued to walk away, hoping that this whole thing was over with when we were cautioned by the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching us from the rear. These guys were not about to let us walk away easy. After a couple more polite statements by us like "you catch the game today?" and "excuse me guys, it's been a long and I really must be going" that were returned with responses like "shut the fuck up", "you fuckers smell like booze", and "show me whatchoo got" I knew we were in for a ton of trouble.

All of a sudden Kenny was surrounded by three of them and the other was right in front me saying that if I took off my friend was done for. There was a butterfly knife in my face and one of the guys cornering Kenny was reaching into a shoulder bag grabbing for what I instinctively thought to be a gun. The second I saw the knife I reached for my wallet and somehow magically was able to pull out just a $20 bill, rather than the whole thing. As I offered it to the knife wielding gentleman in front of me the other three guys became startled and Kenny bolted for it. I threw the $20 and followed suit, screaming completely inappropriate things as I ran for my life. They chased us for a little while but eventually their footsteps were inaudible and they were gone.

I grabbed at my phone and dialed 911, telling the operator my location and the description of the guys that had just mugged us. Within one minute there was a car in front of my house with an officer telling us that they had apprehended three gentlemen that fit the description we had just provided the operator. They invited us to the scene and were more than pleased to find the same four MOTHERFUCKERS that had just robbed us face first on the ground in handcuffs. A few minutes later a different group of officers pulled my $20 bill, a backpack containing the aforementioned halloween mask and a huge ninja-movie-prop-lookin' knife, and a little bit of pot out of some bushes, ensuring that the attackers pleads of "what, black guys aren't allowed to walk through a white neighborhood?" and "you ain't got nothin' on us" will surely be jokes of the officers for as long as this incident resides in their memories. *

Between losing the car that I shared with my brother on Memorial Day, having my apartment burn down in mid-August, and this most recent dramatic event I'd go as far as saying that I'm in the top tier of unlucky people that I know.

However, I'm managing to juggle three jobs totalling well over 50 hours a week and three classes. I do my best to make time for my girlfriend and my friends although it sometimes might not seem like it. Just over six months from now I'll be staring face-first at graduation. If I can make it through until then I'll be walking away from this city with tougher skin and a coy smile that will read "fuck you, i've won," for the rest of my life.

Would you think less of me if you found out that I almost cried when I downloaded iTunes for Windows and upon installation got a "You must have Windows 2000 or XP to install" error? I thought WindowsME was sorta 2000? Like, it's less attractive and sorta disfigured and much ignored cousin or something... Maybe it's time to upgrade to XP anyway.. I just haven't been ready to use an OS that doesn't allow me to boot to DOS if I for some reason feel like booting to fucking DOS. Maybe now's the time, though.

The Yankees beating the Sox in Game 7 and me getting robbed at knifepoint in the South End apparently still isn't enough to motivate me to get all bloggy. Sorry about that, ya'll. When I'm busy @ work it's hard to blog and I've been incredibly busy.

If you've come here looking for the Wayne, NJ lost and found site, it's located in the post below.

hi, i went camping and came home with an "ivy : apartment life" cd which is not mine. if it is yours please reclaim it. i also have someones no code cd.

All summer long here at the office the sound of the air conditioning system has buzzed away completely unbeknownst to me. I certainly felt cool, and was able to unconsciously adjust the sound of my voice to be appropriate for the office environment, but I never once acknowledged the sound of the cooling system. Until this morning, that is, when the cold that's been creeping into Boston forced one of the employees to kill the AC unit and the buzzing stopped. It's kinda like when a cut finally heals and you continue to look down at your hand for days afterward expecting to see it still there. In addition, the eerie quiet in here is making me quite uncomfortable... and being able to hear the irish-born receptionist screaming "Company X how can I help you!?" every fifteen seconds certainly isn't helping. *

For the past month or so I've spent every friday night working at a shitty bar on Lansdowne St. The radio station I work for broadcasts from there and my job is to represent them, give shit away, and force people to drink Coors Light, etc. Oftentimes when performing this task at other bars I'll be offered free or discounted drinks in return for my services, which is certainly appreciated. This place, however, feels differently and charges me for every drink that I order. I can certainly live with this. I don't expect anything from anyone and certainly don't mind paying the price of a beer for a beer. My demand meets their supply and all is well with the world. What I can't live with, however, is the fact that when you open a bar tab at this place they charge $120 onto your credit card and then three days later adjust it to what you paid without ever telling you. I know $120 one way or the other missing from a bank account isn't that huge a deal, but when you're a college student paying his own way through everything; $120 could be the difference between an angry landlord knocking down your door and just barely skating by for yet another first of the month. *

I've decided to start using asterisks to separate topics here on the blog, I hope you find it useful. *

This past Sat we threw a surprise party for Marissa. She was certainly feeling that a few of us were acting a bit too strange and demanding of her saturday night whereabouts, but I'd say the whole thing went down quite well, if the tears of happiness were any indication. After the party a few us somehow found ourselves in a penthouse apartment that vaguely resembled something you'd see on MTV's Cribs. When the booze ran out Marissa began fiendishly wolfing down the pieces of fruit that had been left at the bottom of the sangria jug, which I certainly endorse as proper 21st birthday behavior. Needless to say, we both woke up with hangovers worth noting. Her's was certainly worse, but getting whacked in the face with a soccer ball during yesterday's brutal loss to the dreaded green team probably lined us up pretty close in the "feeling shitty" department. *

* By the way, the soccer team's been getting our asses handed to us pretty good lately, which is why I haven't been discussing. However, yesterday's ejection by red card for a blind sided punch to the face from a member of team green brought back warm fuzzy memories of playing club soccer in North Jersey against 12 year old guys with beards and names like Pablo and Vinnie. Good stuff. * --

Alright. I've gotten over the fact that blogger ate my post that contained the bitter argument between my id and ego. Please allow me some artistic license in having attempted such a conversation in the first place. I am fully aware that the id would be unable to actually hear or speak due to its inherent unconscious nature. However, I assure you that it was really, really funny when my ego told my id to "go fuck itself" and that it "deserved to have gone to Rutgers and gotten AIDS."

Enough of that, though. The Yankees have lost game 1, young hockey stars are crashing their Ferrari's into my old stomping grounds, people are leaking classified names, and the Europeans have decided 50 years too late that they should go check out the moon. The world is mad for sure and my ego screaming "you know that you cheated your way through physics in high school and that you only made it through one FBLA meeting because you realized that all of the members were either scary weird chicks that you had never even seen at Wayne Hills before or total fags," sure as hell isn't going to change that.

Enough. Really this time. Besides, without the context I was working in it probably makes no sense anyway.

I argue that 'One Big Holiday' from the new My Morning Jacket album might be one of the best songs i've heard all year and that the new Strokes record is just kinda ok. No one seems ot be arguing back, though.

I'm still having fun playing King's Quest and with Marissa's help am nearly at the end of the game. No fear, though. King's Quest 2 will begin shortly thereafter and I've won 5 and 6 on Ebay. Pretty soon I'll be partying like it's 1992 all over again.

I lost my cell phone on Friday night and thought it was going to cause a world of problems, when in fact the only problem it's caused is that I talk on the phone less... which really isn't a problem at all. The details are not important, but I'd like to publicly thank Verizon for believing what i'm sure sounded like a blatant lie and giving me a new phone at promotional prices.

No more. --

bullshit, sideshow, three ring circus

The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of the very worst things that can happen to us. For as there are misanthropists or haters of men, there are also misologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from the same cause, which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises from the too great confidence of inexperience;--you trust a man and think him altogether true and good and faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to be false and knavish, and then another and another, and when this has happened several times to a man, especially within the circle of his own most trusted friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarrelled with them, he at last hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him at all.

why am i not surprised.

how do wee wee do.

been some time, been blasting rats and sassing frats.

been trusting myself less and less and putting too much credence into pop culture. nasty way to live. like a gentile. speaking of credence i met an interesting iranian man in the middle eastern section of borders bookstore. he was telling me that chomsky, for a jew, had very good poise on presenting issues factually and fairly to those confused about the state of the world. hes not so much what im talking about, im talking about the kid at the cash register. my mom and i were talkin bout truth, and this kid writes the name of a book "the awakening intelligence" on my receipt and tells me its all about truth. im not really that interested in that tho. the iranian was much cooler. something about how people initially perceive people. clown johsnon at the register starts peddling his ego.

its more about drawing, less about pushing. in some weird heterosnakesual way. its like saying, im not a misologist, im not a misanthropist, and being an american. its like food and fireflies. they aint hungry.

but about the pop culture. i saw lost in translation and i think its stupid. i like bill murray, but coppola has shit on the brains. those emotions are on the way out, so i could see how those close to such feelings would warm to them and hold them fucking tight. thats the way we work, only love something when its near the end.

but fuck, seriously. life is good and precious and all but ive got too much to worry about right now (ie my own survival) to bother understanding my emotions. instead of partitioning it out equallly i just focus it on one thing, when i have the time. this way i can get work done and like something a whole bunch, when i have the time.

chris said he made a post and tore himself apart letting his ego bash his id and vice versa. that sounds goddamn awesome. maybe not so much in the context of chris's life, but just in general. i know he played xenogears for a bit. and how you dont even know how much youd like a story like that.

ive been listening to tool and mix tapes. some jamiroquai. drank some whiskey the other nite, if thats pop culture. thing with whiskey, for me, is like going to the bottom of a pool and sticking your head in the center drain, then the harder you pull to get up the further down you get. pinned, folks. you can be like, oh, the bottom of the bin is gross, these thoughts are irrational and stupid. then when you think of the good stuff it gets infected. horrible way the mind works, if your down and out keep the good things out of your head, im telling you as a friend.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I JUST WROTE THE BEST WEBLOG ENTRY OF ALL TIME AND MY INTERNET CONNECTION CONKED OUT AND DELETED IT WHEN I HIT "POST". FUCK ME.

I own a Playstation 2 and a Gamecube. Those machines offer all up all kinds of hi-tech games. Cutting edge graphics. 3D and shit. So why have I dedicated more time to playing old 256 color King's Quest games than anything on those platforms? Or, should I say... why have I dedicated my time to watching Marissa hover over my PC monitor? (i'll explain that portion later)

Why? Because those games were good. Fuck graphics. They were clever. They easily immersed you into the scenery. Slightly challenging but of the mind-numbing sort, not thumb numbing. I've mentioned Tierra about 12 times on the blog already, so this will be the 2nd to last.. but please go ahead and waste a few hours roaming around Daventry on their behalf. It's worth it, I promise.

I've taken to trying to pick up original copies of the later King's Quest games, namely 5 and 6, on E-Bay, even though I've heard some complaints about their sound not working properly on Windows ME... I'll deal with that later. Nostalgia first, logic second. I might even download the incredibly sucky King's Quest 8 demo somewhere.. i mean, why the fuck not? Anything worth doing is worth doing right.

OK, back to Marissa. Ever since I described my geeky obsession with old-skool adventure games to her she seemed a bit interested in checking out what I was talking about. I threw Tierra's King's Quest 1 (ok, that was the last time) remake up on my screen the other day and within minutes she had taken over my PC desk putting me in the passice co-pilot position. While I've helped her a little bit along the way (i mean who ever really guessed on their own to spell Rumplestiltskin backwards for Christ's sake?) for the most part she's been on it like Shakespeare and a sonnet. This is exciting to me. Excitingly geeky. Geekingly sexy.

Ugh, I'm obviously insane.

On a completely different note, I went to see Miss Saigon last night. And despite the whole dialogue in song thing and overly homosexual lead character (who was supposed to be a US soldier in 'Nam) I enjoyed it. Gasp.

I just quit smoking. I think. For good this time. Yeah.

I've done this many times before. Once, in fact, for an entire year. I woke up from a long night of drinking and smoking like a fiend and felt so terrible that it caused me to chuck my half-full pack of Marlboro Lights onto a city sidewalk in disgust.

My most recent relapse came for no real reason at all. I vaguely remember being at a strip club and having a cigarette placed behind my ear, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that recently I've been smoking sort of regularly (more regularly on the weekends) and it hasn't really bothered me all that much. I've been relatively lazy in terms of physical fitness and haven't really challenged my lungs with much more than sitting at a desk for eight hours a day or berating people on a microphone (jobs #1 and #2, respectively). That all changed yesterday, however, when I played my first game for the new club soccer team I've joined. We were short three players (8 total) and they were a full squad +3 (14 total). We played three back, three midfielders, and one forward. Regardless of our positions we were all more or less all over the goddamn field for the full 70 minutes of play time. Sometime before the beginning of the first-half I walked over to the sidelines and dry-heaved. My lungs felt like they were bleeding from the inside. From the ages 6-18 I played soccer pretty much 6/7 days a week regardless of the season and never remember feeling like this.

So that is why I just quit smoking. I think. For good this time. Yeah.

Oh yeah, we won 3-2. Last two goals came off of my assists. If I were you I'd prepare for a game by game rundown for the entirity of the season. So either avoid Monday posts or embrace them, depending on your feelings toward this one. --

Since I obviously don't have anything interesting to say, it'd serve you well to check out the newly linked egofamine blog. It's the creation of a friend of mine who has gone by the names jonathan, jon, jonny k, and j-kizzle fo shizzle (ok, i made that one up) in the years that I've known him. I've heard that he lives in Harlem now, which makes him a pretty bad-ass mothafucka in my book. Don't let his post about cell phones fool you, this guy's all thug. Bling-Bling and whatnot. Gold Teef. --

I'm convinced that google is the computer system that will one day take down humanity. Before paul started posting to the website recently the ads at the top featured music related items and music magazine subscriptions. Now however, the ads feature headlines like "meditate deeply as a monk" with sub-heads reading an "eclectic selection of wisdom texts, Rare incense, candles, dharma items". Frightening.

I still haven't played those Tierra games. Verizon claims that my DSL line will be alive and kicking on the homefront tonight, so hopefully I'll be able to divulge then. Just in time for school, of course.

I played video games the other night for the first time in god knows how long. Jimmy and I tried a little two-player Ikaruga on for size and then took it old-skool for a little but of Monkey Ball 2 love. I just barely edged him out in Monkey Target but he handed my ass to me in Monkey Fight. I'm sure we would've tried another mini-game on for size to break the tie if it wasn't ass o'clock in the goddamn morning.

I enjoyed my weekend with Jimmy and Toni. Lots of shopping. New My Morning Jacket, Constantines, and Q and Not U records for myself, Mr. Show and Family Guy DVD's for Jimbo, as well as the hilarious Vice Guide to Sex, Drugs, and Rock-N-Roll, and Blind Melon's greatest hits and the new Constantine's (she copied me) record for Toni. When friends take the time drive all the way up from Jersey to visit me I like to try and show them the best time possible. I don't know if I succeeded this weekend, but I sure hope that they felt that the time they had was worth the 4 hour trip there and back.

On Saturday we bussed it to Cambridge to check out Lost In Translation. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the film. It was fairly uneventful, but left me with the sweet feeling of going unwillingly on vacation with your parents at the age of 15 and finding yourself a nice little crush in the same situation as you. Maybe you hang out with her. Maybe you don't. Maybe all you get is a sweet little smile on the way to breakfast every morning. Despite those details, it's still a memory that resides in the back of your mind only to to be conjured up on days when the air smells a certain way or the sun is shining at a similar intensity. These memories aren't life altering by any means, but for one reason or another they stick with you forever. A+, in my opinion.

In addition to that, My Bloody Valentine's Kevin Shields provided an amazing score that worked perfectly with the setting of the film. Including 'Sometimes', my favorite MBV song at one of the pivotal moments of the movie certainly didn't hurt either. --

11:49 PM 9/11/2003

on nights like this i know where to find you...

been obsessed with the crusades lately. interesting stuff. too bad school has started...
ah, you think. so far i have discussed the crusades in more than one class. seems to be a hot topic. alternatively my brother got an invite from the demolay youth group organization, which is odd.

my classes go like this, philosophy, american environment, multicultural lit, spanish renaissance lit, bio. nast-eeee. almost done, soon i will be able to live in squalor and have more kids than i can feed. ill beat them, cause theres no test to take to make sure i wont. plus, i can establish firm ideas of subordination - early.

i was talking to somone at some point about general human populations coming upon discoveries at generally the same time. i see it as a spout of human being we all drink from. in terms of sense of self and mans general grasp of whats whos and hows.

the air is at that crisp point. makes things crisp? put down my cat.

The new Decemberists album isn't quite exactly what I expected. It's very much not chock full o' fall anthems like I hoped it would be, but it is still very, very excellent. Los Angeles, I'm Yours reminds me of this weird 80's music that I saw in a porno film when I was way too young to have seen a porno film. Ahh, warm fuzzy memories. I've put my hopes into the new Shins record to provide me with those chilly / cool fall anthems I'm looking for, however, if it doesn't deliver in that area i'll certainly accept a pleasant surprise like Her Majesty, The Decemberists.

Jimmy, whom we still haven't figured out how to sign on to this weblog, will be making one of his infamous Boston appearances this weekend, which is always exciting. I've taken Saturday off from work (my first day off in God knows how long) and am eagerly anticipating whatever the hell him and the still kinda fuzzy cast of characters that he's bringing along with him bring forth. I'll be sure to comment after the dust settles.

Still haven't checked out those Tierra games yet. --

This might be old news to some people, but I've just been turned on to the creations of a small software company called Tierra Entertainment that very well might be the kindest group of individuals on the face of this earth. For exactly zero dollars in monetary compensation they are taking the time to remake the old Sierra adventure games like King's Quest and Quest for Glory. I haven't been able to spend much time poking around their website, nevermind downloading the games they've released so far, but the fact that someone out there remembers these games as fondly as I do is amazing to hear. The fact that they have the talent to update and release them to the public is even more amazing! It's games like King's Quest, Space Quest, and Police Quest that turned me onto computers in the first place... and anyone who knows me knows how are essential they are to my life. They help me pay the rent and help me bide my idle time. I really can't wait to see what these guys have done with these games... I feel like I'm 13 again. --

Oh yeah. My friend Jonathan from Jersey somehow mysteriously made his way to my burned down apartment and took a few snapshots of it. I'm still not entirely sure how this all happened, as we haven't caught each other online much lately.... but here's one for your perusal:

* my burned down ghetto apartment

I have a bunch more that I took from inside that I'll get around to posting eventually. Have a good weekend.

Looks like some outsiders have begun to stumble upon this little website again. Excellent.

I'm more or less completely moved into my new place in the South End. I haven't spent much time there
yet as I've been working like a freakin' dog at one of my three jobs ever since the beginning of the
month. I'm happy to say that it's the most amazing place that I have ever lived in, though. I love
home, don't get me wrong - but it's hard to compete with a 4th floor apartment in one of Boston's
nicest neighborhoods, a spacious bedroom with brick walls, and a decent little view of Mass Ave without
the noise. I suppose anything would've been better than the pile of trash I lived in on Mission Hill,
but my roommates and I have really struck gold with our new place. Chalk one point up to the kid who's
had his car totaled, apartment broken into, and then subsequently burned down all within the past few
months.

Summer looks like it's gone for good and I couldn't be happier about it. While I had my fair share of
piss-poor luck since memorial day I've escaped with a new sense of overwhelming happiness. Right now
everything is as it should be. The weather's crisp and comfortable in Boston. I've broken out the
sweaters and I'm drinking hot coffee again. My apartment is a mere three minute walk from Marissa's.
I've begun working for my former employer once again and smile on my little 15 minute trek through
downtown to get here everyday. Long after I am through with this place, I will have fond memories of
it and directly equate it with the beginning of my "career" and Boston. I suppose Jan. 1 starts the new
year, but I think most 22 year old and below minds see early fall as the real new beginning. Take hold
ladies and gents, it's all happening.

Don't forget to pick up the new Decemberists album on tuesday. My gut tells me that it will be the
perfect anthem for early fall. Paul says Modest Mouse's new drummer has ruined the band. I'd seek out
some MP3's but I'm still internet-less at home and have no sound card here at the office. I suppose I'll find out eventually. --

Apologies for the MIA-ness. No computers anywhere. Still moving. Starting new job(s). Insanity. Loving llife more than ever. I'll tell ya'll about it when I get settled. --

to take anything seriously is to give life the handicap, do not let it know you are weak. --i guess this is a failed email or a meditation on garbage bags... i received it as a piece of spam at an odd hour, so why not share.... enjoy

the ones who truly aspire are those who give up the struggle of the hunt. the lust for discovery. those who never experience the extent of their own understanding. this occult is unintentionally concerned with anything overtly worldly, it harbors a selfishness intent on embracing mediocrity through the blind acceptance of ideals they perceive as too difficult to meditate upon and unusually comfortable enough to arouse suspicion. however, many will refuse to believe that a conscious repression of such base (yet oddly human) impulses leads to a subconscious (or sometimes conscious) manifestation of said function masquerading as inebriation or a sober clarity so seemingly removed from whomever divined the emotions that it must be extraordinaly fantastic.

true moments of inspiration may occur when events outside the mind's realm of understanding lead to bitter self assessment. this sort of scrutiny holds your hand on a tour through a largely negative and unknowingly impulsive state of mind which must be understood for what it is before taken seriously. the demon is born when the spirit is weak, asserting its heaviest influence during the heat of the moment, when the mind is either exhausted, depraved, or despairing. it freely choreographs the present state of mind to perceive all life through a lens at once genuine and passionately bitter. to get lost in the emotions of a single incident in time (to hold your own thoughts in such regard you eventually become defensive of them, and possibly conceal them) is to foolishly, selfishly, and ignorantly render your being as an entity permanent and super-natural in a world that endlessly fails to learn that time inevitably renders us all fools. some are prone to believing this is permanent, unwavering and accurate. (which is more often than not the sad sappy truth) as is usually the case however, the mind fixes such inverse spikes of personal orientation through means hardly recognizable. (satiation from consumption, fornication, rest, expulsion, bouts of harmless mania, and mindless indulgence... in essence, the symbols encountered in everyday life designed to inspire comfort, relief and respite) this all being the result of cancerous, pseudo-communal practices which subconsciously decieve (through half baked media exposure) the populous into understanding that we live in a world of excess. one who does not -have- will/can/and has survived on the sympathy of others.


yo

i guess we didnt finish our conversation or i just feel like talking more.

in terms of whatever it is i have going now, for the interested, it is not easy on the mind but it is not altogether something terrible. all it took was like a half-relationship and a couple nites out at bars to realize how things generally are. id like to say i am beyond those observations and "an exception to the rule" but that would most likely be false.

i guess first of all, over anything anyone has said or will say, i hold the self in the highest regard. i passionately urge myself to believe that when one filters out what is imposed on them by society and focuses on what they quintessentially are they will wake up to this foolish charade we all contribute to. i guess if i establish some base beliefs in something, non-belief maybe, i have some sort of foundation to stand on.

i dont know

i receive testimony from good amount of people who chat recklessly about their situations. as it appears, being in your mid to late twenties in this century, or year is a great burden. as a human, you come to understand certain things about yourself, recognize these things in others, and develop a complex ripe with disillusion.

i was told its impossible to remember everything one knows at a singular moment in time. say, perhaps, you are one of many of lifes great anomalies and you do have this ability. how cursed. every observation, experience and thought you ever had closing in on you and living off you every moment, creating from silly behavior all you do think say and feel. this in mind, why do the masses find peace of mind through eager commitment to emotions which are fundamentally uncertain. parallels exposed regarding life and the strict "grassroots" nature of change are prominent there there and there.

everything is null. is that agnostic? what does that imply. more specifically the stuff above, trash.

home is confusing.

wayne, nj and the house i grew up in might not be "home" for much longer.

grandpa called today. wants me to come visit him before i leave (not that i wouldn't have anyway) and bring along my brother and sister. he's going in for surgery next week for a clogged artery and i'm scared.

started reading Walden. i've never read before. i'd say the timing is good.

home makes me feel like a stranger in my own skin. i look around and see things that i recognize but i don't really see them through the same eyes anymore. it doesn't make me sad but sometimes the fact that it doesn't make me sad makes me sad.

home is confusing.

Goddamnit I just wrote a really long blog entry and accidentally closed Explorer before posting it. In sum: saw the Jealous Sound last night. The night gets an A+ due to their very good but nothing to write home about live show, Toscanini's before the show, an amazing shower after the show, and an amazing shared piece of Dulce di Leche cheesecake in bed before cashing out for the night.

Marissa's gone home for break and I'm still crashing at her place. I'm so lucky to have a place to hang my hat... some of the guys I lived with are sleepin on motel floors and whatnot. Having just started two jobs I don't know what I would've done if I would've had to head back to Jersey all this time.

Apologies for the brevity... but I'm at work... which I'm thinkin' means I should get to work, ya heard?

Silly of me to not mention what started the fire.

The third floor unit of my building was rented out by 12 irish lads for the summer. There are only three bedrooms in the unit and only 5 people allowed on the lease. Our landlord's an idiot for turning a blind eye and these kids are pretty nasty for living on top of each other like they did. At any rate, these guys hung a neon Bud Light sign on their back porch and left it on 24 hours a day. Apparently it sparked, almost instantly igniting flames to a ratty old couch that they had on their porch which then in no time spread flames to the rest of the house like wild fucking fire. No one was injured, which is cool. What's not cool is that these 12 guys were laughing their asses off the whole time the place was up in flames - singing while the firemen were putting the fire down - and bee-lining it to the bar not long after the scene had settled down.

The fire inspector told us that he made his way up to the 3rd floor unit the morning after and found three of the former residents smoking fucking CRACK up there. Eventually I'll post some pictures from ground zero, as we've begun calling it, and when you see the shape of this apartment you'll see that it couldn't be better fit for mo' fuckin' crack-smoking.

It wasn't the way I wanted it to happen.. but I couldn't be happier to be out of mission hill for good. Read back to my rant from a few weeks ago, combine it with this bullshit, and it's probably easy to see why. Living up there has toughened my skin and taught me some good lessons. But it's also taught me that some people should be dis-allowed from pro-creating. I can't wait to get my ass a diploma. Get a fucking job and get to the fucking suburbs. ... or at least a nice neighborhood in the city.

Anyway, things have settled down for now and I'm doing my best to focus on this week's finals. After that it's home to Jersey for a few days of very much needed relaxation.

On a different note, I went to see Freddy Vs. Jason last night with Marissa, Jeannie, and mah nigga Cray-Z Fo' Sheazy. I enjoyed the intentionally kitschy way that the actors conversed and had a pretty decent overall time watching it. I commend the two ladies for coming out with us despite their reservations. I'm pretty sure Marissa spent more time laughing at Freddy's cheesy lines than being scared, which is good because I was worried that she might not quite love me as much after seeing one of my beloved Freddy movies. It looks like I'm in the clear.

Around 9:00 PM on Wed. night I heard a smoke alarm go off in the entranceway to my apartment building. I went out to see what was wrong and noticed that there was a whole lot more than just one smoke alarm going off. Within what seemed like seconds I was about 50 feet away from my building watching the rear burn out of control. The firemen came fairly quick but the flames took quite some time to put down. I'd never wish standing shoeless on the streets of one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston watching your personal belongings being burned or saturated with water or both on anyone. I'd never wish rummaging through your things in total darkness trying to figure out what the fuck is salvageable and what isn't, either. It's a terrible feeling. I managed to get the things of sentimental value out. Pictures, CD's... but so many other things are lying on the floor in my old bedroom behind boarded up doors and windows. I went back to the building today and there was a sign on the door that read "this property has been condemned and deemed not inhabitable for humans".

These past two days have gone by incredibly quickly. I've been speaking with everyone from the red cross to insurance representatives to god knows who the fuck else trying to figure out exactly what in the hell to do.

Some individuals that I thought would've bent over backwards to help me in a time of need have dissapointed me. Others that I would've never considered to have given a rats ass about me have offered more than I am deserving of. It's funny what it takes sometimes, I guess.

Marissa has allowed me to sort of temporarily move in to her place for a few days before I move into my new apartment Sept 1st and I'd llike to publicly thank her for that here, even though she might say that it's not neccessary. I'm sure I've been not much more than a raving lunatic to live with these past few days and her ability to put up with me is more than impressive.

There's some other interesting and often humorous things that have come along with this little situation of mine.. and I'll be sure to let it flow when I get a chance... but for now, I need some rest. --

Quickies:

:: Feedback was down a bit this afternoon... apologies to anyone that felt like backing on the feed tip, I think it's all back up and running.
:: I went out last night nearly until last call and realized this morning that I can no longer hang like I used to. Had to skip my AM class. Ugh.
:: I missed working a BCN promotion at tonight's Radiohead show by about five minutes. Ugh again.
:: Paul ruins EVERYTHING - pass it on.
:: Blogging from work doesn't quite bring back warm fuzzy memories of the day I turned in.circles from a run-of-the-mill e-zine to a sub-par weblog like I thought it would.
:: Every two months or so I come dangerously close to purchasing a 30-gig iPod even though I should be putting my dismal funds towards things like food, rent, and bills. I am in one of those "dangerously close" cycles right now. Someone please convince me that iPod's are shite before I find myself taking out a loan using my first born child as equity.
:: I dare you to find tastier iced coffee than Finnagle-A-Bagel's in the Boston area. I double dare you. --

howdy do, hello.

my name is el nino, and you better get your coat, cause i came to bring the rain.

hoo ah.

--------------------

i saw modest mouse recently, and was largely disappointed. many things went wrong, too numerous and boring to list, but they are going south further than katherine hepburn, barry white and bob hope. philly is a trash hole, whole heartedly.

i watched eyes wide shut the other day. collectively i have prolly seen it all like 1 and a half times, but this was the first time i watched it (semi) straight through the whole thing. its just like that, you lumber through it. and dont let me forget about the book im reading, speaking of lumbering through. shits tight, A+. ive talked to some folks who have also seen it, and they largely disagree. which i find confusing, cause it seems spot on. things i like: colors, glares, bleeds, nicole kidman. i like how london is portrayed as new york. i like that. why use the city in a piece of fiction as the city setting. you are at your whim to whit and whistle with whatever woozle you troozle. kudos. i like the music, i like the length, and i like the content. i like the passion, i like the jealousy, i like the way people have disturbingly vivid perceptions of human nature, choose to render them to the public, and when all is said and done its like flat and poo, but really bas relief. you f'n c's.

ah, umberto eco. im partially through this book, foucalt's pendulum, and its really fun. like too fun where you have to question why it is so fun. then you deconstruct the thing you think is fun and try to find a flaw, convince yourself of the other sides point of view. apply as much passion to hating it as you did to liking it, and do that with everything, see how much of a fool people can be. id say the book has opened my eyes, turned me into a harder cynic, but then again im just reading words on a page, ya know. what can you do with that. its the inconceivable stuff you gotta worry about. i really wanna talk more about the book ya know, but i havent finished it. all i can really say is jacques de molay. i wish someone would submit me some hardcore research on this guy. there is other stuff too, aleister crowley + napthalene + kundalini... all nonsense if you think about it, but fun nonetheless...

I waited so long for summer-like weather and now that it's here I want it to go fuck itself - figuratively, of course... weather couldn't actually go fuck itself now, could it? Seriously, though, what good is summer if there's no goddamned sun?

Despite the thick-as-Arnold's-biceps (ahem) humidity in Boston these past few days I've been enjoying my life. I started new job #1 of 2 on Friday, for WBCN. It doesn't pay a whole lot, but it's fun. New job #2 of 2 starts tomorrow although It's not exactly 100% new. It's actually for the same company that I had my first co-op at three years ago. Only this time out they're paying me a whole lot more than they used to. I think that means I actually have to work now instead of talking to Jimmy on AIM. Sigh.

Aside from work stuff I've been enjoyably spending my time with Marissa, my roommates, and doing little bits of school work. I don't think anything from this past weekend is terribly blog-worthy. I also can't remember a time when I've been so happy with everything. Maybe there's some sort of connection?

Patyankee1 still continues to IM me at the strangest times. Jimmy thinks he's ten years old. Jimmy thinks I'm an asshole.

Remember: humidity, WBCN, bigger paycheck means having to work more, happiness isn't blogworthy, Patyankee1, and Jimmy. (ok, it made me laugh on the lawrence arms site so I figured i'd try it here...) --

Maybe it's just because I'm way over-tired... but the following AIM conversation I'm about to post made me laugh so hard that my stomach started to hurt. I guess it's kinda lame that I can amuse myself that much, but whatever. At any rate... why the fuck do people feel the need to randomly IM me all the time? I left the screen name up there because I didn't feel like changing it. Enjoy...

Patyankee1 (8:16:39 PM): hi
me: (8:16:43 PM): ?
me: (8:16:47 PM): who's this?
Patyankee1 (8:16:57 PM): Patrick
me: (8:17:03 PM): eh?
Patyankee1 (8:17:22 PM): wats
me: (8:17:38 PM): i'm sorry man... i'm drawing a blank here
me: (8:18:11 PM): a little help maybe?
Patyankee1 (8:18:43 PM): yes
me: (8:19:00 PM): ... right
Patyankee1 (8:19:20 PM): no
Patyankee1 (8:19:31 PM): wats is your name
me: (8:19:40 PM): great. well, this has been amazing. and not to sound like a prick.. but what the fuck do you want?
Patyankee1 (8:19:42 PM): and last name
me: (8:20:17 PM): my first name is fuck. my last name is off. my middle name is i don't have time for this shit.
Patyankee1 (8:20:58 PM): fuck you
me: (8:21:54 PM): super
me: (8:21:58 PM): is there a point to all this?
Patyankee1 (8:22:18 PM): no
me: (8:22:27 PM): ok then thanks bye.
Patyankee1 (8:22:35 PM): fuck you !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
me: (8:22:51 PM): dude, who are you and what do you want?
Patyankee1 (8:25:36 PM): fuck you
Patyankee1 signed off at 8:25:36 PM.
Patyankee1 signed on at 8:25:55 PM.
me: (8:26:08 PM): you used boldface. that was impressive
Patyankee1 (8:26:17 PM): wats
me: (8:26:44 PM): oh i get it now... wats... as in wats it take to be a total fucking homo?
Patyankee1 (8:27:01 PM): yes
me: (8:27:06 PM): that's awesome
Patyankee1 signed off at 8:27:17 PM.

CA out. --

i started playing ikaruga also. one of the better games i have played recently. we chatted bout the explosion when you kill the boss on the first level. i think its cool cause it brings the system to its knees rendering this detailed fireball. fun stuff. ill update at more frequency in a bit. just want to ping one off.

In the spring of 1999 I graduated high school. My band broke up because three out of four of us were going to college. Due to the whacky schedule at my school I had a whole lot more summer to work with than everyone else I had graduated with. I spent my extra time that summer making music with a dear friend of mine named Josh, who had also been the drummer in my band. We wrote 10 new songs and recorded 12 over the course of July, August, and September. One of the extra two being a re-recording of one of our bands' old songs and the other one being a cover of Adam Sandler's 'I Wanna Grow Old With You', of all things. I was 18 and Josh was 15. Bands like Saves The Day, Bouncing Souls, and Lanemeyer were making New Jersey the pop-punk capital of the world (at least our little world - fuck everything that's ever come out of that hell-hole we call California) and we were loving every minute of it. At any rate... I get nostalgiac once in awhile when I have too much time on my hands and like to go back and listen to some of this stuff. Not many people have ever heard it and I figure at least a few of the songs deserve to be heard. Before you download this track (one of the ones Josh sang on), please remember... we were young. And stupid. We barely knew how to play our instruments nevermind work the second hand 4-track recorder I had purchased. However, we were having a fucking blast and I hope it shows.

If I Were James - Don't Belong
(right mouse click and select 'save as')

Please leave some feedback to this post. Let me know if you'd like me to upload some more of this stuff or just keep it to myself. Thanks. --

I hate living on mission hill. The following AIM conversation I had with Imri a few minutes ago should hopefully be enough to describe why:

imri: how was the party last nite?
chris: well...
chris: i made some kid bleed
imri: what?
chris: and also locked my keys in my bedroom and had to kick my door in
imri: awesome
chris: hehe
imri: d'you have to bounce some people out of there?
chris: well, some fuckin' local ghetto scumbag kept kicking the door to the bathroom and flipping the light switch on and off while someone else was in there. it annoyed me a little bit bit i thought it was just one of his friends in there or something...
chris: then my girlfriend and her friend walk out... which made me a little pissed
imri: hah yeah
chris: so then he unzips his fly... says "i gotta get my dick out" and lunges himself into them...
imri: oh shit
chris: at that point i threw the girls out of the way and took the bathroom door and tried to fucking cut him in half with it by slamming it on him
imri: that's fucked up
chris: but he kinda got out of the way but it caught the skin on his arm and he started bleeding, he was fucking huge. i pretty much thought i was going to die
imri: hahaha
chris: but then my thug roommate came over and escorted the kid out
imri: nice
chris: the weirdest part is that he was still there later and like... flexing and shit. it was the most absurd thing i've ever seen
chris: i fucking hate living in the ghetto
imri: so weird that he was flexing
chris: yeah... and like, rolling up his sleeves and stuff to show us his arms
imri: like yo that cut aint shit, i can still do this

There's too many people in this world that don't know how to respect themselves or other people. I used to be tolerant. I used to feel bad for them but sometimes you can only take so much. My house was robbed last weekend. The fuckers came in through the front door with a crow bar. I almost got mugged last night before the party and was about two seconds away from getting killed in my own house at the party. I can't wait to move out of this neighborhood. I hope these fucking swine eat each other alive here once I'm gone. I hope they have children and they rob and kill and fuck each other just the same. I hope the cycle never ends until they wipe themselves out completely.

One day I'll be sitting in my house laughing about how I used to live in this place and had to deal with this shit. They'll still be here sitting on my goddamn porch (uninvited) begging for fucking change.

I've found myself with a pretty hefty amount of free time lately. Although there's still three weeks of classes left in my summer quarter, I've completed all of the work already for two of them. The other two aren't the easiest... and the thought of the finals for them scares the living shit out of me. However, they don't require much more work than showing up to class and occasionally hitting the library maybe once a week to whip up a short assignment. I'm sure for most people free time isn't a problem. In fact, i'm sure it's welcome. But since nothing can ever be easy for me, I'm having trouble figuring out just what in the hell to do with it. I've been playing a lot of guitar. Checkin out Ikaruga. But mostly these are just glorified ways of sitting on my ass. It's making me feel lazy and a bit useless, even though I've just recently started up my daily gym routine again. Speaking of useless, I'll stop writing now. --

We're still having trouble adding Jimmy to the blog. And Paul's dead, I heard. Although I wouldn't know. Granted, they probably don't know whether I'm alive or not either, considering that I was in Jersey for the weekend and failed to meet up with them. I was actually at home for a grand total of 20 minutes not counting sleeping gents - I do hope you'll forgive me.

Speaking of Paul, I purchased Ikaruga for the Gamecube solely based on his recommendation. Actually, it wasn't much of a recommendation at all. He said "Ikaruga - REZ for the Gamecube." That folks, was all I needed to hear. I really do hope that Paul actually is alive, because maybe we could play two player or something. That'd be h-o capitalized double tizzy.

I've listened to the new Riverdales album about 500 times today. Granted it's only about 23 minutes long - but that's still a relatively large amount of spins, I'd say. Take the golden oldies feel of the first record, combine it with the drive of 'Storm the Streets', throw in some Ramones-like spookiness to the vocals, and you've got 'Phase Three'. I'm impressed. I'm hooked. But I guess that's what happens after you spend two years listening to stuff like The Microphones, Notwist, etc. A good pop record tends to jump out at you amongst all of that artsy shtuff.

I work on the yearbook staff here at Northeastern and I just completed inserting images from June's graduation ceremony. One of the images was of Brian Wilson receiving his honorary degree and he looks stoned out of his fucking mind. --

New Hey Mercedes MP3 at heymercedes.com and also a new Riverdales MP3 at 145records.com posted today. Sorry I'm not providing the direct linkage, I'm all about being on the lazy tip right now. I f-ing love those sweet sounding Hey Mercedes guitar leads for sure. Combined with that kinda-sounds-like-the-first-Riverdales-album-but-better-sound of Last Stop Tokyo these two tunes have certainly put a smile on my face on this rainy tuesday.

I'd like to quickly say fuck you to Newbury Comics for not carrying the new Riverdales album on its release date. I was late to class and walked in the humid rain without an umbrella just to come home today empty handed.

Tomorrow I rock the dermatologist to find out about this cancerous looking thing on my leg. Marissa's coming with me, which is super sweet of her. I'll let you'll know when I do. --

weird, i had a dream monday nite that was crazy... and i dont dream - spooky, am i rite?

Last night I dreamt that I was driving around north Jersey by myself in a beat up car. It was very woodsy - West Milford / Vernon-esque - and very dark. I made a pit stop at an asian supermarket. There were about 15 - 20 asian children in the parking lot setting off fireworks. I reached into my backseat and grabbed a few balloons that were there for one reason or another. I threw the balloons into the parking lot and the children threw fireworks at them. The balloons popped. I was sad that my balloons were gone so I left the asian supermarket. I took off down a dark road and noticed that I was being tailed by a cop. I sped up and at the first intersection cut the wheel hard to the right and screeched down a different road. The cops lights went on and he proceeded to chase me around a suburban neighborhood for awhile. I grew bored of being chased so I took off down a secret path to rest. When I felt it was safe I left the hideout and went searching for the house I wanted to live in when I was older. I found it and parked outside. I lit a cigarette and smiled at the thought of me being inside someday and making the windows visibly illuminated from the outside by my own hands. I wanted to call Marissa to talk to her about it but I couldn't find my phone. Then I woke up.

I guess compared to that the fact that I broke a sterling silver belt buckle in half this morning while putting on my pants and found out that I could possibly have mela-noma (skin cancer) on my leg isn't really that strange at all.

New Riverdales album tomorrow. --

The movie stars Bill Murray and the soundtrack is being done by Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine? I don't know a damn thing other than that about 'Lost in Translation' but you can certainly sign me up for a pre-order ticket!

Now that everyone's using synthesizers to death again is it time for the cyclical nostalgia machine to start up a pop-punk revival? I don't know, I guess I'll leave that up to you to decide. At this rate... I predict a huge economic boom starting late this year, lasting approximately for 4-5 years, followed by a minor recession, a war lead by President Jeb Bush, and then the mainstream popularity of a form of music that the kids call emo. And also cell phones. Fucking cell phones everywhere.

I'm just trying to get ahead of the curve here, ya know. Stay hip and whatnot.

I'm going to be heading to Naragansett (no idea how to spell) RI this weekend with my roommate, the lady friend, and an as of yet unkown cast of other characters. The weather outlook for the northeast isn't so hot for the weekend, but I'm excited regardless. Although my month back in Boston has been amazing, it's always nice to see the ocean in the summer.

Also, Karaoke tonight. --

I guess I should preface this with mentioning that I always had my doubts about 'punk rock'. Maybe it was insecurity because I never really 'got it'. I always liked pop-punk - that was fun. Rebellious enough for me, I guess. I never really was that rebellious, I suppose. I don't know what this says about punk rock. Christ, it might say that I know absolutely nothing about it more than anything at all... but in reading this article that was posted a few weeks ago I'd say that Rancid has struck out in the punk rock corner:

Strike 1: Signing to Warner.
Strike 2: New single features a song by some guy in that Good Charlotte band. This is perhaps the most disturbing.
Strike 3: Tim Armstrong in some band with the drummer of Blink 182?

As far as the new album goes.. I'm relatively unimpressed after a listen or two. The second self-titled one that they put out in 2000 was pretty bad-ass, if I remember correctly. And I remember digging that Let's Go one when I was like 15. Yeah. --

Been listening to:

Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism
Rancid - Invincible
The Rapture - Echoes

Opinions to come to soon. Most definitely before the release dates. --

Back in the fall I used to receive e-mail from readers after just about every weblog entry I posted. My closest friends would instant message me and ask me for clarification on posts if I had been too vague. People seemed to enjoy reading this thing. Back then I was pretty bitter about a whole bunch of things... so the whining came easy and I was never short on words.

Now, however, it's a little bit different. I wake up every day with a smile on my face. I go about my fairly routine business and either spend my evenings studying or relaxing with Marissa. While this is great for me, I think that the Blog has suffered severely as of late because of it. Now i'm not about to seek out things to be bitter about for the sake of a weblog... however, I do promise to search for a new voice for myself. One that can cleverly tell stories like I'd like to think I used to. This is new ground I'm treading on here. So hang out for a bit. Come along for the ride. See where it takes us.

I'm looking into adding a 'comments' section to the weblog so that people can remark on everything that we post up here. I figure I can't find inspiration of my own to blog about... I'll push it back on you and let you do it for me. --

I was just sleeping soundly. It's been a long day already and I've only been awake for seven hours. Soccer in the fens. Hot outside but frigid in my bedroom. I awoke to church bells. Someone was getting married at the church across the street. I fell awkwardly on my arm today while playing soccer and it hurts more now than it did then. I am dying of thirst. My alcohol vs. water intake has been incredibly disparate this weekend.

I'm listening to the new Beulah album, 'Yoko' right now. It's pretty god-damn good. Not quite as fun as The Coast is Never Clear, but still good. I've attained the new Death Cab for Cutie, too... but haven't given it a spin yet. Rumour has it that it's pretty slooow.

I love Boston. I love summer. I love Boston in the summer.