I just wrote an entire album's worth of power-pop songs. Think 1997. Two minute, thirty second long songs that pack in at least two verses, two choruses and a bridge or intro in the more inventive tunes. Think Plow United meets Beezewax. *

I'm four songs into the new Cure album and enjoying it a whole heck of a lot more than I thought I would. I guess Ross Robinson isn't all that terrible. I mean, he produced Burn Piana Island Burn by the Blood Brothers, right? *

I'm still unemployed. Although I finally have an attractive offer in front of me from a very respectable, well-known company. The job is marketing and sales related whereas lately I've had an unexplainable urge to dive into the finance industry a whole hell of a lot. A friend of my parent's trades on the commodities market (think oil. think the people who terrorists want to blow up.) and offered to sign me up as his unpaid clerk so that I could run around the trading floor for a few weeks to see if I can find anyone willing to hire me to do whatever the hell it is that they do over there. The whole scene is pretty exciting. But it's also pretty damn risky and can end up being a total, total bust. Whoa is me. --

And so it begins.

* 'At Least That's What You Said', the first song on the new Wilco album pleases me.
* I am still unemployed. But I'm coming closer to real employment by the day. I could be in Brooklyn, Manhattan, or Jersey. It's heating up... the decision will come soon... which I'm sure will either lead to a new, fun blog that I will use to bitch in ad nauseum... or completely kill the damn thing. Either way I'm sure no one's too broken up.
* I enjoy playing Mario Golf more than I care to admit.
* Marissa will be heading my way with a truckload of her goods to come live with me while we sort out our employment and living situations. This pleases me very much.
* Word of advice... if you have the word "Sales" in our resume and want a halfway decent job... do not post your resume on Monster.com. You wil be flooded with calls from idiots who want you to sell shit to other idiots and pay you nothing for it.

Bitchin'. --

Passable verses. Catchy choruses. Blues riffs. Fuckin' A.

Catchy voices. Passable musicians. Blues. Fuck me. --

I don't know why it took me so long to actually command myself a copy of Single Frame Ashtray's 'Wetheads Come Running'. Better late then never. That's advice, folks. *

Being solitary all day long and most of the night makes my head wander down paths that I haven't allowed it to wander down much these past few years because of how goddamn busy I've been. Given the choice, I'd opt for the latter. Working hard enough to not have to try. The Good Life. Etc. *

That said, I'm still jobless. Still sitting in the sun. Still letting my head wander, fueled by bitter literature and hip music. *

This evening I'll be visiting some family in Kinnelon and later heading to Maxwell's in Hoboken to see Army of Me. A band I've never heard of. A band that nobody I'm going with has ever heard of. I'm psyched. --

12:21am. My skin is quite suntanned. That's what happens when you have nothing to do and read Palahniuk and/or Kafka every day on your parents deck from 12:30pm - 2:00pm in the early summer. I should probably start wearing lotion. *

Anyone that didn't download the Mitsuko MP3, you make me sad. Fix that.*

Today I had a musical eureka! of sorts. Funny thing is it came while fucking around with musical instruments that were all borrowed. Mostly Jeff's Martin. Knowing that I was going to be borrowing Jimmy's drum machine also led me there (which is sitting in my mailbox as i type. I forgot to take it out when I came home tonight. One last thing to do before bed). Plus synthesizers and borrowed copies of recording software. Use the tools at hand people. The future is now and tomorrow. So why live for yesterday? The project I plan on unleashing in time will most likely end up being dubbed The Metamorphosis, which looks a little bit funny when I type it. The name might have something to do with my newly rekindled interest in Kafka short stories or the idea of an unemployed white collar hopeful's desire to rock the fuck out in his off time. Regardless of the inspiration, I think it would look nice silk screened across your ass. *

I like the new Detachment Kit album. It sounds pretty much nothing like the last Detachment Kit album... which sounded like a less developed and less together Les Savy Fav. I've heard it dubbed as the coming of the new Modest Mouse. Which we apparently need because Modest Mouse's shittiest album ever is currently topping your US of A's Billboard 100 chart. I suppose if I had to stretch I could find some similarities between the controlled insanity of Of This Blood and The Fruit That Ate Itself EP... but it would be a stretch of Armstrong proportions. Comparing four songs and a few backwards tape looped intros to an exciting sophomore effort from a relatively unknown band that has recently taken residence just a few miles to my east in Brooklyn is just silly time-wasting. Let me not waste any more of your time then, go to the french kiss records site and find out more. Or Soulseek. Or BitTorrent... or whatever the fuck you crazy fuckers are using to get your kicks these days. I used Soulseek. *

G'Nite, it's time to try and beat that nasty fifth course in Mario Golf again. *

ladies and gentlemen, this life is dangerous. --