The last time I really checked in I was sick as a dog due to excessive drinking and severe lack of sleep. Now, however, I am incredibly well rested and quite healthy. Instead of drinking until 4AM and being woken up far too early by the #1 bus rolling up and down Mass Ave I lay in bed unable to sleep due to the intense silence that comes with living smack in the middle of the burbs. I'm a college graduate, but I'm jobless. I don't have a car.

And it's all pretty much perfect. While it's sometimes frustrating being stuck in the house... I'll take reading a book outside in the sun over having to run out to work 8 hours a day fo-sheezy.

This is the longest vacation I've had since the summer of 2000. And I'm enjoying by doing nothing at all. Unless you count playing ping-pong with Marissa until 2AM doing stuff. Either way, like I said before... it's pretty much perfect. --

I'm alive. Haven't left the house much and am getting a little pastey down here in my parents basement. But I am indeed as alive as one can be without a high speed internet connection. I've been doing a lot of packing and unpacking.

We'll talk more later, for now it's off to a rock-n-roll show. --

heres my response to that question. if you're someone learned in this stuff you will see right away i had no idea what i was talking about. i got a b+ on the exam. upper respiratory infection drifting to the stomach, nuff said...

anselm of canterbury is as immortal in today's world as any god to grace the pages of history and literature. his piety earned him a permanent place in the minds of humans in the wake of colonialism and western conquest. the reason for this perpetual romantacized image of pure-white virtue is not rooted in exaggeration. during a time when greed held tightly to the masses and even infected the impenetrable piety of the church, anselm maintained his focus. as a theologian noone could better understand the human being and it's relation to divine mandate as did anselm. when education was not mature enough to recognize self confidence as the end to a means anselm wove this important facet of human existence into ideas fashionable to all alive during his time.
the apocalyptic myth which anselm rejected was regarding christ and satan in a struggle for man's salvation. to examine the ideas rooted in such an ideology one looks no further than humans themselves. the struggle of life is evidenced in the appearance of flesh and bone. what is life but a struggle for a cell to perceive and thus reproduce to manifest a physical appearance reflective of eagerness to understand. satans position laid foundation in the purely physical. eternal life is a symptom of satan's evil grip. one under this influence seeks to hold close all that defines them as a being.
christ comes in where selflessness is present. christ recognises the necessity of the being to cling to physical indulgences, but one absorbed in christ does not make the physical a habit. one rooted in christ uses their physical form as a vehicle to save themselves through self confidence and afterwards to promote this into the minds of others. man's salvation lies in an understanding and awareness; the fact that one cannot escape sin but may deflect sin in a manner which may be productive. thus two types of sin were cast.
criminal sin is in conduct of direct malice. one seeks to reinforce their physical existence through unjust means. sin, however, is pervasive; it washes over every human in the act of perceiving. greed can be vision, touch, and other sensory indulgences, but they are unavoidable because this sin brought the being into existence. the vibration of an idle cell reflected its rejection of eternal boredom in exchange for a predictable jaunt through a world of temporary sensory experience. the end is known, but soon as the being (cell) gets unsettled and seeks the physical it is cast into sin because all it can harbor in this plane of existence is futile as a result of impending death.
anselm understood these fundamentally HUMAN impulses and causes. what he presented to the masses was far different than what he felt, deep down, at the seat of his soul. in order for a harmonious experience in the physical realm this distinction had to be understood by those unable to grasp it.

For the record, Mr. Paul, not only are you welcomed here... I honestly feel that content from Jimbo and yourself is probably the only thing that will save me from shutting this thing down in the long-run. So ante up, biatches. Step to the plate if you'd like.

So here I am at work, on my very last day of a job that I have quit and returned to three previous times. I'm sick enough to feel like I have something the size of a tennis ball stuck in my throat and fear that drinking anything other than water will feel like razor blades in my neck after being swallowed. I've spent five of the past six nights living the dream, so to speak, that is... acting like a college student one last time: drinking approximately 8 hours each day and sleeping approximately 4 hours a night. It's been a freakin blast, but it's also caught up with me. On my last days of work at previous jobs I've spent the day going through all of the work I've done and building a portfolio of my work, etc... today I'm just going to stare at my monitor and watch the clock move slowly towards 5 o'clock, the time in which I will leave one hour early.

I graduate college in four days and move out of Boston in eleven. Ga-damn. --

im at school and i just did a midterm during the second to last week of school. im pretty sure i did not do well but i enjoyed responding to the essay question. there were 3 essays you pick one. since i had no clue about any of them ill show you the one that i had the least, no-clue about.

iv. although anselm of canterbury was a monk who rigorously followed the rule of st. benedict, nevertheless he argued as a theologian that we must take responsibility for our own eternal salvation.
(1)describe the apocalyptic myth (which anselm rejected) of the cosmic struggle of christ and satan for man's salvation;

(2)the ecclesiastical courts of the time, following abelard's theology, distinguished between criminal sin and sin: contrast the two

(3)why is this distinction important?

you know, writing this im curious if chris even welcomes me here anymore. between doing presentations on desmond tutu and biting my ass for nicker nockers its like shooing my zooble dew. ya see.

as much as it seems i dont, i really do.

have a passion for the material that was on the test. thing is everything i read(yesterday), of course, was not on the test. i got as far as the norman conquests. taking this class and arabic history at the same time has really helped me see that history is stupid and amusing at the same time. could you see juicy coutre pants on my plants. well, cnut was cool, i just dont really recall the cool stuff he did. i know i underlined fulk, of the angevins, too... you know the story, he did cool things. the other day i was reading a book and a name came up, margaret clitheroe, 10 pts if you can tell me who the fuck she is and how much weight they pressed her under. 1586, irrelevant to the reading im doing for school, anthony burgess wanting seed shit.

i swear tho, if there is any chick hotter than eleanor of aquitaine i will kill puppies in a puppy store and become a druid preist. we need people to read about her so they can be just as hot as she was. after i do my paper on her ill give you the degrees... see you in a year or so

Update: It has been released and is quite good.

My Internet ADD is out of fucking control. Three sentences into reading the Les Savy Fav "Inches" review on Pitchfork I open up a new browser window to check my main Hotmail e-mail inbox. Once I see that I have no new mail there I check my secondary Hotmail inbox and then flip over to Eudora to check my work email. As that happens I get an MSN Messenger IM from my boss asking me what I have on my plate today.. which I promptly ignore so that I can use AOL Instant Messenger to ask my friend if the LSF disk is out yet. He doesn't respond, even though he's not idle, so I open up my third browser window to check out frenchkissrecords.com for an official release date. As the Frenchkiss site is loading I realize that I never finished the review, so it's back to Pithfork. Two sentences into the second paragraph I don't feel like reading the review anymore because there's already no doubt in my mind that the comp. is going to rock the fuck out, so I close that window and click back to Frenchkiss. The splash page looks awkward on my high res screen and 5 seconds into trying to locate the link to get past it I get an IM from my girlfriend telling me that she's going to sign off for a bit. I send my goodbyes to her and on my way back to Frenchkiss I receive an email via Eudora concerning the Pub Crawl in which I will be participating in tonight. I write a quick response and realize what the goddamned-fuck have I accomplished in the last twenty minutes? Absolutely nothing! I should be fired! I should just leave and go to Newbury Comics and pickup the Les Savy Fav disc.. but shit, I STILL DON'T EVEN KNOW IF IT'S FUCKING OUT YET!!!! *

So this is how I find myself now, on the waydown off a three hour caffeine high prompted by this morning's 24 Oz. iced coffee with extra cream and sugar. And the people in the cube next to me are watching porn. The boss is at a trade show this week and my entire office is out of control. PORN, for Christ's sake... can't you get arrested for that kind of shit? *

I will be participating in a Pub Crawl tonight, Northeastern / Boylston area bars. It should be pretty boss. - I will be going to Mohegan Sun to gamble and drink my ass off next week. - I will be going on a booze cruise next week. - I will be enjoying my "last day of work" and entering the large population of unemployed folks out there next week. - I will be graduating in one week and two days. - I will probably develop liver cancer *

It looks like both my beloved Devils and Yankees are suffering from hypocrisy issues and lack of heart as of late. It's difficult to watch one time heroes fizzle out and become shells of their former selves, but it seems like what I'm looking at here. *

I didn't get through the whole thing... but I'm guessing that this article has a quote from a music industry momo attributing increases in record sales to the crackdown on file sharing, while anyone who's attended approximately one business or economics class knows it has everything to do with economic turn-around. *

Within the next two weeks I will have decided whether or not to quit my current job, buy a car, or move out of boston. Just after that I'll have graduated - and if all goes as planned, I could be moving to one of a few cities including Atlanta (keepin my fingers crossed there), Philly, or Chicago. I could very well be living with Marissa in one of those places. It's all very exciting and scary and I don't even want to write too much about it in fear of jinxing it or making myself look like an idiot later.

If none of the following works out I've decided that my plan B is to drive my dads old shitty car and spend my weeks after graduation bouncing back and forth between my parents house and my aunts house on the jersey shore.. or just bumming around Boston jobless until I find something. Even my plan B is fucked up... shit's crazy, dogg. *

So, how do we all feel about the new Modest Mouse? --

This morning, while racing down the four flights of stairs I must combat every morning to get to work I turned my ankle in an insanely awkward way and fell down like a feeble old man. My usual 15 minute walk from Downtown Crossing to the office took me about 45 minutes, with a quick stop at CVS for some Maximum Stength Advil. I've spent all day here with my keyboard on my lap and my bare foot covered with an ice pack elevated on the chair next to me. Everyone feels too bad to give me more work to do, which I'm enjoying.

However, I don't currently have health insurance... which I'm not enjoying. I'm just going to keep my fingers crossed that this sucker starts to heal asap so that I can avoid that whole X-Ray / put me in even more debt thing. *

Yesterday I downloaded Type O Negative's Life Is Killing Me, KMFDM's Xtort, and Pig's Sinsation. I also played the brutally bloody Manhunt for Playstation 2. Throw that on top of last night's squirm inducing Sopranos episode and you have a slightly shell shocked Christopher. Is it a coincidence that I fell down the stairs this morning? Was it God trying to turn me around from descending down the path of transforming into a 14 year old goth girl? Don't worry, big man... I outgrew wanting to dye my hair black about 11 years ago. So, as much as I appreciate your concerns... no more bone injuries please / thanks. *

"Did you see what God did to us man?"
"That wasn't God, it was you...you're a fucking narcotics agent, I knew it!"

I am exactly .013 GPA points away from graduating with honors this May 1st. Cum Laude or whatever they call that shit. It puts me in an interesting position because the train that's keeping this educational journey of mine moving along has run out coal, gas, or any other kind of earth material that somehow enables big metal machines to move. In the fall the conductor came outside and pushed a little bit... but now he's tired, unshowered, and hung over most of the time. - I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope that the BS still sticks to the wall a little while longer. *

I was very happy to see Mr. Jimmy finally accept my invitation to write for this weblog after about a years worth of begging and pleading. He's not just a pretty face anymore, ladies and gentelmen... he's a living breathing human being and fucking-A he knows how to use BOLDFACE! *

Apparently I'm going to be visiting Europe for about a week after graduation. My parents have offered this to me as a present in lieu of something like a down payment for a car. But my question for them is... how the fuck am I supposed to get to the airport?

Har, har, har. *

Someday soon I will not have to force these entries into the five free minutes I get once every three days. I will no longer be balancing three jobs and school but will be working one job, with normal hours that allow for normal social interaction with other individuals and even time for relaxing. When that occurs, folks, I promise you a more well thought out in.circles that relies a whole lot less on the words 'fuck' and 'shit' and a whole lot more being worth reading.

Until then... fuck. --

"Did you guys hit the deer?"

We're trailing a cop home from a local hippie-type watering dookie. Gunna get pulled over. Gunna fall asleep. Tasty beer, strange people, good juke, early last call. I'm thinking, 'ah, a turn-a-bout of the controls, he can't do anything to us from up there.'
"You guys see the new cop cars?"
A minute later I'm sneaking through some bushes to watch a female officer laugh with her co-workers, and proceed to shoot a deer in the head. I've never actually heard a shotgun blast before. Much more quiet than in the movies. Even quieter than the first one. The other one got away. Alive. Dead. Probably the best thing to do, hell I wasn't gunna nurse the thing back to health. Care enough? Lazy. I did make sure my kitty was around to greet me when I got home. It's way too late, and I'm way too tired to make any sense of it. Doesn't matter either way. this beer. that beer. together. apart. dead. alive. I started reading 'The Stranger' by Albert Camus and I'm listening to 'Charles Manson - Look At Your Game Girl'. I'm gunna sleep a little closer to her tonight, and make sure I pay more attention when she gets out.

Last night I dreamt that I was record shopping at The Sound Exchange, a record store I grew up frequenting. There were new owners, not the guys that at my tender young age of 13 would correctly insist that I'd be better off picking up records by Pop Will Eat Itself, Pigface, and Fugazi instead of whatever other crap I was probably buying at the time. I went to the register to pick up my copy of the Iron & Wine album and had an altercation with the gentleman ringing me up about the amount I gave him, the cost of the album, and the disparity between them and the amount of change he gave me.. I ended up leaving the store without the album, claiming that I would never listen to music ever again.

Sorry, I just wanted to see if that dream was just as fucking stupid written down as it was in my head. Turns out it was. *

Yesterday I drank my balls off. I'm talking non-stop from like 10:30AM until about 7 at night. I suppose that's par for the course in South Boston on the day of their big St Patty's parade... however, the fact that I was on the clock made it quite interesting. Four of us were DJing a bar on the parade route. The initial gig-time was 12-2, but the owner offered us $250 cash, on top of our (shitty) hourly wage if we stayed until 5. As much as I get annoyed with my part-time job for eating away at my precious and few college weekends... playing rock music for five hours, getting shitey with a bunch of Irish cops for free, and making about $200 ain't a half-bad way to spend a Sunday. *

Why is Jimmy's picture over there on the left side of the weblog, a few folks have wondered, when he's never actually contributed? The answer, my friends... is to promote traffic to the site. We needed a pretty face to lure in the little lovelies, and I couldn't think of a better way to do it. --

So how do we all feel about Braid getting back together for a reunion tour? Personally, I'm excited to be able to see one of the many bands that I've always wanted to see live but never thought I'd get the chance to (believe it or not my band was asked to play a show with Braid in 1998 at the Melody Bar in New Brunswisk, NJ and we turned down the offer because we thought that the haul to South Jersey was too far for a school night!?). Although I must admit that the whole thing is a bit curious in an out of left field kind of way. Regardless of the intentions, hearing songs off of Frame and Canvas live will probably bring me right back to being 17... which I remember being quite fun. If I had my way, this tour would turn into more than just a one time thing, spawning a glorious follow-up to Frame and Canvas that far surpasses anything that Hey Mercedes or any of Chris Broach's side projects have been able to attain. *

Don't forget, new Iron & Wine album out Tuesday. --

If there is one thing I've learned from doing this weblog - and I'm sure it's fairly obvious that I haven't learned much more than that many things as long as i've been doing this - it's that if you talk too soon or too much you'll most likely end up kicking yourself for it later. So excuse me if I've been quiet lately... I've been pleasantily, ableit busily, living my little life.

I know that not talking about things going on in your life goes against everything that a personal weblog stands for, and I'm fully prepared to respond to that statement by saying: sorry, i'll figure out how to deal with that later. *

One thing I can always talk about, though, is music. Musica, if you will. These past few days I've been listening to Holopaw, Plow United, and new tracks from Reubens Accomplice and The Descendents. I usually tend to stick to one genre at a time... so I honestly can't explain the delving into electronically-tinged southern folk, hard pop-punk, wimpy emo, and melodic pop-punk all at the same time. But it's been the happy little soundtrack to the life that I'm restraining from talking about. *

I will tell you that I blew out my much beloved Marshall Valvestate guitar amp on Friday night, while drunkenly performing an improvised Happy Birthday death metal song for my roommate. --

Hello there. I'm home safe and sound. Back to the east coast where March snow pounds down with a bitter and moist vengeance, you're likely to receive a "what the fuck?" if you bump into someone accidentally on the subway, and where cab drivers seem to be doing their best to ride over pot holes filled with water for the purpose of splashing you for kicks. Ahh yes... home sweet home. I spent a week in a place where the weather drifts from warm and sunny on low ground to pleasant powdery snow in the mountains, people almost always apologize when bumping into you... even in bars, and the closest thing to a pot hole is the place where some hippie college student stashed his gram of cheeba.

My vacation to Colorado was excellent. I slept an average of about 4 hours a night, skied four of the most amazing ski mountains I've ever seen (Arapaho, Breckenridge, Copper, and Vail), consumed more alcohol than I ever believed possible, and ate lots and lots of Mexican food. Most vacations I've taken in my life have been of a restful nature... but last weeks balls to the wall spring break trip has left me ridiculously fucked up. My body is sore in places that I didn't even know existed and there is a lump in my throat the size of Texas. Today's extreme discomfort is in no way directly proportional to the amount of incredible fun I had on my final spring break, though. To be honest, I didn't know I had that much college-kid left in me. Graduation is in 7 weeks... glad I'm going out with a bang. *

Much to write about, but not much time to do it. Gimme a few days to get back into the swing o' things. --

I'll be in Colorado until 3/7

I'll try to post. If not, eat it bitches! --

The weather's here - wish you were, beautiful.

It's unbelievable how 15 degrees one way or the other can impact my mood. After a bitterly cold winter in more ways than one a 41 degree day can do wonders for your optimism. It can turn your ten minute walk through downtown each morning from a distraught walk through the Valley of the Twisted to a hopeful stroll through the City of Possibilities. Motherfucking Nature, brah. *

So I've written some songs. Some I've had kicking around for a long time in one form or another... but lately I've really buckled down on them and fleshed them out so that they are in near complete form. Complete enough to try them out for the few individuals I trust for feedback on that sort of thing, anyway. If all goes as planned in my life I will figure out what I'm doing with myself after graduation soon enough, which will hopefully allow me the opportunity to quit at least one of my three part-time jobs and concentrate on putting these tunes to tape. This excites me to no end. I know I've said things like this for years on this here blog. Even more so to Jimmy who always responds to the effect of "OK, now show me", which is pretty much where the whole thing ends. But not this time. Oh no. One way or the other, this is going to happen. Get ready to shake your asses. --

Ben Foster has some interesting things to say about the A-Rod deal that I think are worth reading over at Weasel Manor. He breaks the whole thing down better than I ever could and I share his opinions, for the most part. Especially the part where he talks about the stingy manager effect. Theo Epstein and Co. let quite possibly the greatest player in the game slip through their fingers because of $12 million dollars. Sure, he's old and he's crazy, but Stenbrenner wants to win. You can't blame a guy for putting his fucking coffers on the line if he thinks he's got a chance at taking the pot after losing three hands in a row, can you?

My feelings on the implications of the whole thing are pretty much pulling in two different directions... as a Yankee fan living in Boston, it's quite possibly one of the most hilariously enjoyable feelings in the world. It's like the city of Boston had finally finished saving up for that really big penile implant... but just before the end of the surgery, Ron Jeremy came in with his super-wang and used it to knock them off of the fucking operating table. Conversely, there's a certain amount of guilt that comes with being a Yankee fan. A white man's burden-esque sort of feeling. But just like Red Sox fans refuse to be swayed by their teams mind-boggling ability to lose, Yankee fans know how to take the "bought Championship" insults with stride. Should we feel guilty for being born in a city of winners? Fuck no. And when I say winners... don't assume I'm jumping the gun here. I'm talking about winning in a sense of beating the Red Sox to the punch in terms of A-Rod. October is a long, long time from now. *

I had a really great weekend. I didn't work a lot, which my bank account won't like too much come payday. But I just had a really enjoyable, stress-free, drink until you pass out kind of swell time. I was starting to think I'd forgotten how to do that. *

* Imri, Mr. "I can provide you with all of your desired digitally delivered Modest Mouse related thingies" himself was kind of enough to shoot me MP3's of a pre-released / taped off of the radio version of Good News for People who Like Bad News. I don't really know what to say. Something certainly seems missing, though. Could be the beginning of the end. Or maybe this is already the end. I really don't know. More on that with repeat spins. --

The following are my results from the You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize thingamabobber:


You're Generally Indie. There's nothing wrong with
this. You like music all over the map and
aren't adversed to listening to some Top 40
here and there. You just know to comment that
The Neptunes are the best producers around
right now. You don't feel the need to debate
constantly with other music geeks, because you
know that Pavement were the best band of the
90s.


You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
brought to you by Quizilla *

Can you tell that I'm fucking bored? --

Perhaps 'fornicated' wasn't the exact word I was looking for. And I didn't mean the amount of states that we had fornicated together in... in fact, the two people involved in the conversation I was referring to have never... umm... fornicated together at all. ... OK ... enough of that. *

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be provided this movie link to Modest Mouse playing Bury Me With It on the Carson Daily show. I'd love to hear what you think about it. I like it. I think. *

Work has hit an all-time boring high and satisfying low, the amount of effort I've been putting into my schoolwork is about as much effort as Paul puts into updating (oh snap), and I'd say that my social life was OK except I've been too drunk to remember most of it lately. Smile! You're in your early 20's! *

This just in... more movie footage of new Modest Mouse stuff. Thanks Erms. --

The following is an image representing the 30 states I have visited during my short time on this planet:



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

This is not to be confused with the conversation I had the other day with a friend, about how many different states we each had... umm... fornicated in. I'll leave that number up to speculation. --

Yeah. About that epic post. Fuggit. Chances are you didn't want to hear it anyway. My favorite part of it, however, I'll provide you with. It's an excerpt from "The Vice Guide to Finding Yourself", a frickin' hilarious list of shit that people in their early 20's need to have experienced to figure out just why the fuck they are on this planet. My personal favorite entry:

"This one is only for guys. In order to become a man you have to: 1) break someone's heart; 2) have your heart broken; 3) get the shit beaten out of you; and 4) beat the shit out of someone. That means: 1) she has to be so fucked up she almost kills herself. Like, doesn't eat for three days and falls down the stairs drunk; 2) you are so fucked up you have to punch yourself in the head to stop thinking about her; 3) you end up in the hospital with a severely broken nose and some sort of permanent facial scar; and 4) he's not really moving at the end. You're just kind of kicking a blob."

There was some other shit. My commentary. A Bukowski poem. Whining. Like I said, you're all better off for not having read it and I'm probably better off for not having finished it. *

Am I terrible for enjoying the song So Alive by Ryan Adams? Blatent bad Morissey ripoff and all? *

Picked up the Microhones Live In Japan on Saturday in the midst of my worst hangover since new years. I remember having read about it awhile ago, but didn't remember reading that it consisted of all new material. Not a single previously released song on the whole damn thing. The short review: first four songs - just Phil and a guitar, mostly. Along the same lines as the alternate recording of The Moon on Song Islands. If you dig that shit... makes the album worth whatever K's charging for it. The middle: just weirdness. He covers Silent Night and These are a Few of My Favorite Things. I think it's acapella, too. The end: bluesy. Yes, fucking bluesy... but in a Phil Elvrum kind of way. It's live and sloppy, but in a different way than the intentional sloppiness of The Glow Part 2. Shows promise though... put these songs through some Phil-like production and dub it Mt. Eerie and I think we might have a winner on our hands. Goddamn... anyone that doesn't know anything about the Microphones must think that I am writing complete fucking jibberish. Moreso than usual. *

About that hangover. Friday night I fell down a flight of stairs at a downtown bar and threw up out the window of some unkown individual's car that we apparently got into to get back to the South End. God bless Tequila and Bud Light. --

I think that work is starting to get in the way of my drinking habits. Three of my last four hangovers have been interrupted by web design work requests, meetings, and secretly looking for jobs while my boss' back is turned. What right does work have to get in the way of letting my ailing liver lay in bed all day? None, as far as I'm concerned. But there's nothing that can be done about that, I suppose... money being a necessary evil and all. *

Today whilist at work I've listened to Against Me!'s 'As the Eternal Cowboy', M83's 'Dead Cities, Red Seas, and Lost Ghosts', and Nine Inch Nails' 'And All That Could Have Been'. I'll the incongruity speak for itself. *

I have a bit of an epic post planned to go up within the next two days or so. And by epic, I mean strictly in terms length... cuz the motherfucker's gonna be long. Fortunately, the length stems from words other than my own... two particularly different but fitting texts that I feel very much prove the pointless point that I plan on making. In short, when you see the long-ass bitch go up... don't not read it based on the length of it, because most of it's written by people much smarter than me. Thanks. --

Dear New England Sports Fans (of the Northeastern University persuasion),

FUCK YOU.

Sincerely,

Chris *

Quite an eventful weekend. Friday afternoon I took a run up to Sunday River in Maine to do an event for the radio station I work for. All things considered it's a pretty good gig. Cars are provided, lodging is comfortable and free, lift tickets are free, and food is paid for. All we have to do is DJ for and entertain the patrons of the Ski Lodge during apres-ski. Two hours of actual work that I will get paid for about 28 hours for, plus all of the aforementioned benefits. Skiing and working on three hours of sleep was rough, but in the end certainly worth it.

I hadn't skied in going on three years now and was a bit worried that my skills would be severely lacking. However, as most people have told me lately, it's just like riding a bike. Two runs in I was feeling confident enough to hit the double blacks and veer off course for a little bit more variety. I'm heading to Colorado in three weeks and couldn't be more excited to do some west coast skiing again. The first time I went out there, with four buddies when I was 16, was one of the most memorable weeks of my life. This time out there's five of us and alcohol... so I'm thinking that my former trip might have some contention for favorable placement in the happy memory bank. It's also probably worth mentioning that one of the four that I went out with at 16 will be accompanying me again this time out. Thinking about that warms my heart. *

I see no reason why everyone on this planet of ours isn't listening to The Lawrence Arms' 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' as part of their daily routine. If I was forced to choose between the few things that I very much rely on to get me through the day... Coffee... Coke ... Water... or The Greatest Story Ever Told I'd have to go The Lawrence Arms route. And I don't care if you think the vocals sound too much like Blake Shcwartzenwhateverthefuck, I've never enjoyed listening to any Jawbreaker as much as The Lawrence Arms. Shit's chilling sometimes. *

I've got a few friends that are stomaching their way through an episode of The Carson Daily Show tonight to see Isaac Brock and his band of misfits known as Modest Mouse play their new single 'Float On'. Good luck and Godspeed, gentlemen. The episode will be airing sometime next week. --

I've never figured out whether it's best to respond to blog feedback via the feedback window or a shiny new blog entry. Thus far i've responded strictly through the feedback button, but everytime I do so I've considered the new blog entry thing, which is what I'm doing now. Does anyone even care? Anyway, in response to Luna's feedback... the "not a single friend" comment was reflective of my situation a year ago.. having lived in Cleveland for only two weeks and legitimately not having a single friend, in the sense of a person you could call up and say "hey dude, wanna go the record store, drink a bottle of whisky, and then piss the rest of the day away running around the city?" to. I worked with people. And I lived with people. But neither were friends in any sense of the word, unfortunately.

In context of Boston, however, where I've resided for five years... the path which led me to my lonely state the other night was quite different. I returned from friendless / loveless Cleveland in June and found myself surrounded by a ton of friends and feeling very loved. I might argue that last summer was one of the most fun times of my life. I had enough cash saved up to put off working for a few months, spent time with my friends taking trips and going out, and spent the rest of my time doing the same and more with Marissa. Every day and every night had meaning to me. I embraced every minute to make up for all of the lonely days that I spent in Cleveland. Fast forward to winter. While I still enjoy my friends immensly, I've gotten used to having them around again. I certainly don't take them for granted, but it's become commonplace. Marissa's out of the picture and I've found myself with a much larger amount of free time than I had grown accustomed to. I spent those summer and fall months on the high side of being optimistic and I am now having a really hard time getting used to what I suppose is normalcy. Maybe the lesson is that the optimists will eventually end up hurt. But I still have a hard time believing that living pessimistically and being pleasantly surprised from time to time is the way to go. I can't help but wonder if I'd reached the mountain top and am now forced to head back down, despite desperately wanting to enjoy the view for awhile. Forever, if possible.

I guess nothing is ever certain.. except my incessant rambling. --

Every once in awhile, usually in what I feel like are the tumultuous times in my life.. I go back and look at my old weblogs and journals to remind myself of exactly what was going on in my life in years previous. Usually it's just a straight trip down memory lane and nothing more. But this time it seems to be something more:

1/29/01: " I am pretty sure I am at some sort of turning point in my life or something... one of those times that leaves you forever changed. Yipee. Bring on the epiphany, I'm tired of waiting. Unfortunately (for me) these changes are usually sparked by things happening that I am not too fond of. Be prepared for a little run of un-happy posts."

1/21/02: "After two full weeks here in Atlanta i'm starting to feel a bit lonely. Besides my new roomate i do not have a single friend down here, and although i was craving the solitude prior to me moving down here, i'm starting to wish that from time to time there was at least the option to hangout with people. The grass is always greener, i suppose."

1/28/03: "I don't really know for sure why all of my bitterness comes pouring out when I sit down at this damn keyboard lately. But I do know that it probably doesn't make for interesting reading."
---

Granted, I've been known to embarassingly spill my guts about stupid things on in.circles in my weaker moments. Glancing at the rest of the year's entrys, though, show that my weaker moments usually come in fairly random order. What the fuck is it about the end of January that makes life suck so horribly?

Tonight, while drinking coffee and eating stale lemon-glazed cake at Espresso Royale I realized that here in the city that I've come to call home that I am no more or less alone then I was last year in a new city... without a single friend... sitting at a coffee house and reading by myself.

I also realized that chapter 13 of "For Whom the Bell Tolls" is quite possibly the most amazing piece of romantic literature that I've ever had the pleasure of reading:

"If this was how it was then this was how it was. But there was no law that made him say he liked it. I did not know that I could ever feel what I have felt, he thought." --

I think I want to move to Atlanta. I have a possible lead on a job there and just the thought of it working out fills my heart with happiness. I spent six months living there two years ago and remember it being possibly the best time of my life. I was happy, even though I had very little to be happy with. I had no friends. I didn't know where to go or what to do with my time. So I idled it away. I took drives. I sat on my porch and played guitar or read a book. Every little stupid thing I did with my spare time was an adventure. And it was mostly by myself... and still had meaning. I fell asleep content with myself and my actions every night. Since I've returned from Cleveland about 7 months ago I've spent nearly all of my time trying to create meaning out of something that was completely reliant on someone else. I can't for the life of me figure out how just a year and a half can allow for that kind of 180 degree turn.

I know that changing the scenery doesn't change who you are. No matter what physical location you are in, the person you are remains the same. But I think the bitter coldness of this place has begun to wear me down. The bitter things I've witnessed from people that supposedly cared about me has taken this once thick skin and sanded it down to just tendons and exposed muscle. While I know that no physical location is devoid of cruelty... whether it be Boston, suburban Jersey, Cleveland, Atlanta, or any other place I might find myself on this little journey of mine... I can't help but feeling that something is terribly amiss in this part of the world i'm currently in and that resting my head in an apartment on a side street in between Huntingon and Columbus Ave's in Boston is just not a right fit for me anymore. --

After tooling around with it for a little bit, and some last minute additions... here is a list of my favorite songs of the year that proceeded 2004 (in the order I first heard them throughout the year):

crooked fingers - you can never leave
the notwist - this room (the us release was in 2003, so I guess this one's in on a technicality)
microphones - solar system
exploding hearts - sleeping aides and razor blades
cursive - a gentleman caller
the rapture - olio
earlimart - we drink on the job
death cab for cutie - the sound of settling
the shins - kissing the lipless
decembrists - the bachelor and the bride
constantines - young lions
cex - the strong suit
m83 - be wild
the unicorns - ghost mountain
sufjan stevens - for the widows in paradise; for the fatherless in ypsilanti
broken social scene - kc accidental
dizzee rascal - i luv u*

I'm trying to put these tracks together on a CD comp to hand out to friends, etc... but deciding how to setup the track listing is insanely difficult. Suggestions?*

I want to play music again. In front of people. *

Food.

For the most part, that is what the best parts of my fairly relaxing weekend consisted of. The usually disappointing Vinny Testa's and never-disappointing late night Tiger Lily on Friday. Eggs benedict, chocolate french toast with almonds, and two hour cups of coffee with Marissa on Saturday and Sunday mornings, respectively at The Clairmont Cafe' and Brassiere Jo. Most of my other meals consisted of leftovers from the previously mentioned, aside from my Sunday night fast food indulgence of the Taco Bell variety.

Now that I think about it. The best parts of my weekend had nothing to do with the food at all.

It was a good weekend, all said. I feel rested. And relaxed. And happy. And poised to take on what's thrown at me... good, bad, or indifferent. *

I've been so distracted and so frustrated with my channels of hearing new music lately that I resorted to taking shortcuts. My method? Plugging through Pitchfork's top 50 list and exploring the things I've never had a chance to hear otherwise. Sufjan Stevens? Broken Social Scene? M83? Yes, yes, and hellz yes. While I idled away my time in between pricey meals perfecting the art of Mario Kart Double Dash blue motherfucking sparks I was incessantly listening to these three records and kicking myself for not having heard them sooner. Is it lame that I had to refer to the likes of Pitchfork to satisfy my need for the latest and greatest new music? Maybe, but at this point I just don't care.*

Apparently my last semester of classes have started and very obviously I don't care. It's the second week already and I haven't even bought a notebook yet, nevermind the actual textbooks for the classes. The fact that I'm in my fifth year of college is absurd. The fact that it was my choice to choose a five year program is even more absurd. My mind is on everything in the world but school right now. And I'm ok with that. I've spent way too many years caring too much about my scholastic performance. I need a break. --

Just when things were relatively easy here at work, I had to go and make them more difficult. I've remained fairly busy and never too insanely stressed just filling out website addition / subtraction requests for the past 5 months or so. "Chris, can you take down page X?" "Chris, that image on page Y is a bit fuzzy, can you regenerate it and add the attached copy?" Simple. Easy. No problems or worries. Fulfilling these requests in a pseudo-timely manner insured that people were never too upset at the response time and that I consistently appeared to be busy enough to not have to take on additional work.

That's when my stupid big fat mouth had to open up and request to "take on additional responsibility and expand on the scope of my job." So now I'm looking down at the two-page list of things I need to complete before the beginning of our biggest trade show in April and want to punch myself in the face. But hey, I guess at least I know I'll have a job until April... and the rent will get paid... and the bling-bling will get blingier. With things looking the way they are, I guess job security's not the worst thing in the world to have on your side.

In sharp contrast to the above I spent my entire Tuesday sitting on my ass. Or laying with my ass kinda turned to the side in a fetal-ish position. Either way, I made like Garfield, watching an insane amount of television, eating takeout and delivery food for two of my three meals, and thinking about not much more than whether I felt like listening to M83 or The Frames. Marissa joined in on the laziness, which was certainly welcome. Lounging around is a whole lot more fun when you've got someone equally as enamored with the idea as you are. Enamored, I've always liked that word.

If you live in the Northeast I hope you're keeping warm... as hard as that might seem. Suggestions: Grab coffee with someone who is coffee-companion material. Pick up yourself a book and get the coffee anyway if you can't find that companion. Wear scarves and make sure you know the best way from point A to point B, allowing for as little 'outside time' as possible. And last but not least, don't waste your time reading the ramblings of a caffeine-driven almost 23 year old fool. Cheers! --

"Toot-toot!" That's the sound of my own horn being.. umm... tooted by myself. Tooting your own horn is a sure-fire way to find something to regret later I suppose, but regardless, I'd like my tooting to be noted throughout this vast virtual world that I am becoming re-acquainted with now that I am back on the 9-5. Why all of this tooting, you ask? Just little things. Little things like how incredible my new computer speakers sound while playing 'Mississauga Theme' by Girls Are Short or 'The Strong Suit' by Cex, or the fact that coming back to a dirty, gray, loud city can bring a wider smile to my face than the quiet and clean suburbs, the way two beers at the local bar on what would've been an otherwise boring evening can lead to a happily sleepless night, the fact that my boss handed me the belated Christmas gift of a mix CD filled with the likes of The Constantines, Bob Dylan, and The Rapture. Not even the freezing rain pounding down on my bare face could take the spring out of my step this morning. Why not? Maybe just being happy to be alive is enough sometimes. --

2003, the year consisting of the tail end my 21st and first half of my 22nd years on this planet is officially over, and I'd say that it ended fittingly: four Bud Lights (one on the PATH), one glass of Pinot Grigio, one shot of of Southern Comfort and Lime, three Sierra Nevadas, one Red Bull and Vodka, five gin and tonics, one rum and Coke, and two Sapporos. 18 drinks in the course of one, extremely dizzying Manhattan evening. In addition to it being the end of the year, it also marked the end of my three week bender in which I intoxicated myself just about every single evening. No real reason in particular, just a lot of free time on my hands and possibly a need to make up for all of those weekend evenings I spent working this past fall. At any rate, the bender's over and the year is over. 2004 will find me graduating, moving to God knows where, taking a job somewhere, purchasing an automobile, and essentially starting the next phase of my life. Nothing else is certain, but I'm hoping that the new year brings a slightly less tumultuous time for me. I could do without the car wrecks, burning apartments, knife-point stick ups and ... well, living in Cleveland. So 2004, what the fuck you got? My stomach, liver, and heart might be a bit battered at present... but I promise that they will soon heal, and then, biatch, you're going fuckin' down!

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. --