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. --