| part 60 |
[Sep. 15th, 2009|08:55 pm] |
So... there's this girl from NH that I'm crazy about. She's coming down in a couple days. She's smart, hot, sexy, and platinum blond. And she smokes. And she's loud and opinionated, has lots of family issues, beautiful blue eyes, great philosophical mind, probably an alcoholic, addicted to caffeine, and she's a uber feminist.
I can't stop thinking about her. I hate infatuation... ok, maybe I'm addicted to it... she's coming on Thursday!!! |
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| One foot in front of the other |
[Aug. 20th, 2009|08:33 am] |
I S'pose I should update. Step by step.
I was able to land a small-time gig with a friend of mine which earned me enough money to make it through September. I have four catering jobs lined up in September that will help me stay in New York in October. I think I'm covered for two months... I don't have to freak out about money for two months. It's weird. I won't go crazy-nuts and spend, but it's interesting to start focusing on "what am I going to do now?"
I've been looking at auditions lately. I'm still not quite there yet with finding them, but I've located the websites I don't have to pay for so I'm going to start there. It should be a continuous process: look for auditions and go to them, but I've been slack. It's because I haven't been around many actors lately. My roommates aren't in that world and neither is this girl I'm seeing. Josh, the guy I got work from, is an actor and we've been talking. I think he wants to cast me as Hamlet in an upcoming project, but I'm not sure. Perhaps something less strenuous because he's never seen me act.
I haven't done any theatre for a while and it's starting to wear on me. Funny how the lack of all that stress wears at me... I miss being exhausted doing what I love rather than doing what I kinda want to do to pass the time. I'll find something down the line.
Lately, as the month draws to an end, I've been feeling that same familiar tingle of change in my heart, like there's something on the horizon barreling toward me and all I have to do is step out in its way and let it sweep me up. I won't fight it when it comes, but I do need to keep its path clear by removing all unnecessary aspects of my life, like this girl I'm seeing. She's nice, and sweet, but there's no adventure in her heart. She gets it from books and doing things on the weekend with the money she gets from her 9-5. I'd like to date an actress, even though they're crazy. At least crazy is interesting and makes me pay attention.
There's something strange about the way I've been seeing people as of late. There are the artists, me and many others, and there are the normal people. Artists hunt normal people to rock their lives and make them wake up a little bit. Normal people are people who keep their heads down and are content to live their lives through artists: to see the world emerge from someone else's body rather than their own. Artists have no choice but to create their own world and bring others into it. It just happens to be that there is core inside most of us that never erected a wall that many people have, so our energy just keeps shooting out into space, knocking into other people's walls and shaking the foundation.
The flip-side is that artists are weak in that hole; they are affected by many things that the normal people have learned to deal with. Being closed provides protection and suffocation. Being open provides stimulation and vulnerability. That seems to be where a positive outlook comes in handy.
The fact that I haven't talked much about her is a sign in itself: I'm just not that thrilled by her and I want to be thrilled. I need to be thrilled. If there's no infatuation then there really isn't much worth chasing. Besides... I have stuff to do and will not be bothered by a woman who is probably not boring to other people, but is boring to me. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 28th, 2009|12:45 pm] |
These ups and downs have gotta stop. I get down when I don't have a job and I think about running away to Arizona. Then I get a job that isn't the right fit for me and I think of running away to Arizona. Then I quit the job, wake up the next morning, and feel like throwing myself through a wall. Then I see I have a job interview at 3 and I feel like I can make it all happen and I'll be fine. What the hell is going on? Seriously, why can't a balance on the rock and lean against the wind?
Lately I've been going with impulse.
I quit the job because it made me fake the truth to people who I wanted to be honest to. I was going door to door for NYPIRG promoting a bill that would reduce carbon emissions by 80% by the year 2050. It sounds noble, but I had to scare people into doing it. I'm not interested in scaring people. I'd prefer people to be interested in the enviornment instead of having to scare them. Yes, I know some people need to be scared into supporting the good cause but... that doesn't make sense to me and I won't have any part in it. I did not go to school so I could use my acting training to manipulate people into doing things I want them to do. It's idealistic, but that's the way I intend on living my life and learning otherwise will be extremely hard for me because I can't seem to do anything my heart isn't in. I'm at a point where keeping myself from following that gut instinct really hurts: I get these knots in my stomach and my head pounds. I hate bullshit. When did bullshit become the norm? Rhetoric and the like... not my thing. I'm a dialectical speaker. This job made me into an instrument for a larger cause and I as not comfortable with that. I don't like being one of a million; I don't like lying with words that aren't my own (and you should see the speech they wanted me to say. It was crap. Way too wordy for my liking: more interested in getting money than educating the public).
So here I am, wondering what the hell I'll be doing in a month. I have a job interview at 3 at a restaurant/nighclub. And you know what... meh. |
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| I need a job |
[Jul. 16th, 2009|02:29 pm] |
Hey babe,
Take a look at me
I'm the baddest mother doctor
That you've ever seen
I can find what ails you
With my x-ray beams
But there's one affliction
That haunts my dreams
I'm a fool, Fool for cancer
I'm a fool, Fool for cancer
Everyday I pray
That I'll feel a lump
Will the next patient
Have that sultry bump?
It's colonoscopy time
Is it in your rump?
How will it be found
If you forget to Pump?
CHORUS
Ok Lisa
Time to give the test
Sit on the bed
Open your dress
You say you felt a lump
And I check your breast
Bitch! Lying's a sin!
To the Church! Confess!
CHORUS
Dr. Brown found one
And so did Clark
Dr. Smith found eight
He's a cancer shark
What's wrong with me
Lost in the dark
I know my fingers were destined
To find their mark
CHORUS |
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| Serious people |
[Jun. 28th, 2009|08:00 pm] |
Someone told me once that I was a serious person. I realized that I didn’t know what a serious person was, so I decided to look it up on the internet. Here is what I’ve found.
• Serious people wear dark clothes to suit rainy days
• Why Serious People Aren't Republicans Anymore
• If you're an honest, serious person, you simply cannot react to something like this with anything but horror and bemusement:
• The Importance of Being Earnest, A Trivial Comedy for Serious People
• WANTED: 30 SERIOUS PEOPLE TO LOSE 2-30 KG
Serious People Successfully Avoid Non-Serious Cooties
http://www.tinyrevolution.com/mt/archives/carter3.html
• What is a serious person doing at the cafeteria at noon?
• Anyone even referring to Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac as a major cause of the crisis has his head too far up Sean Hannity's ass and is not a serious person.
• VERY SERIOUS PEOPLE....As I'm sure you all know, one of the current favorite pastimes in the liberal blogosphere is to mock the Very Serious People who currently make up our foreign policy establishment. And hell, why not? They haven't exactly been covering themselves in glory for the past few years.
The problem I've got, though, is trying to figure out who's who. Obviously Michael O'Hanlon and Ken Pollack are charter members of the VSP club, as are Tom Friedman and Michael Ignatieff
IN CONCLUSION…
So, serious people aren’t republicans, yet Cheiny and Bush are Very Serious People… there is even a very serious people club, as one blogger informed me. I’m confused. It’s called VSP.
Now, I don’t like The Important of Being Earnest. Is it because I am not a serious person? Is that comedy only for serious people… why? Is The Importance of Being Earnest only for People who are not Republicans but once were? What is a serious person?
And what about the people needing 30 serious people to lose 2-30kg? Do these serious people also need to be ex-republicans and enjoy The Importance of Being Earnest?
And do they also need to wear dark clothes on rainy days? And what constitutes dark? Is it black? Or is a lesser shade of brown ok?
And there are cooties to be spread. Serious people don’t have cooties. They avoid “non-serious” cooties.
And there was a crisis that Fanny Mae might have been the cause of, but, as one person dictates, no serious person would believe that. And they’d have their head up their ass, excuse me, Sean Hannity’s ass. I doubt he appreciates the non-serious heads up his ass, but the facts are the facts.
So, a serious person is: An ex-republican who wears dark clothing, enjoys The Importance of Being Earnest, someone able to lose 2-30kg, avoids non-serious cooties, is suspect if he/she is in a cafeteria at noon, and doesn’t believe that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac are major causes of the crisis. And, apparently, if they are not serious, then they have their head up Sean Hannity's ass.
Or, as this man politely says: I'm serious people, don't make me illustrate more violence in Smurf Village! I'll do it, you crazy art bitches!
I did not show my work or site my sources because if you’re interested, then just put my snippets in quotes and google them. Tra la la.
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| Sally |
[Jun. 27th, 2009|02:09 pm] |
Sally drank from a little slit in the sky
Looked up into the world
Asked the deities why
The world was on top
Of reality’s perch
Why the people had lost
Their will to search
Outside of the box
Was a wandering eye
It caught sally’s wish
And made it fly
Everyone smiled
Took their neighbors hand
Whisked each other away
Into the promised land
Now Sally sits down
In the field of light
Surrounded by prayers
And the devil’s might
She told the sky
Now does this mean
The world is my oyster
Is it going to stay clean
The eye watched like
A buzzard in flight
A mouth opened
And set her right
The world is a lie
And light is dark
Take a look in the river
And you’ll find the mark
Of a reflection gone wrong
At the beginning of time
Look into your face
And you’ll see mankind
All the troubles that haunt you
Are slipping away
But the one I can’t take
Is the one that will stay
Sally sat down
At the end of the dock
Looked at her reflection
As the platform rocked
Looked deep into
Her emerald eyes
Until she saw
That peace is a lie
She took a rock
Dropped it lake
The splash got her wet
And peace she forsake
She wished to the sky
Let the world collide
Let the danger come up
So we can confide
In each other’s woes
In the tears we shed
In the loving arms
That hold us in bed
The fire engulfed her
But she wasn’t harmed.
As the world exploded
She lifted her arms
She tried to live a dream
But the world came back
To hold her tight
Tied her to the track
The train broke her
And in pieces she sank
Down into the earth
To join the filthy ranks
The ground quivered
And welcomed her in
Said come home Sally
Would you like to begin?
Sally opened her eyes
And saw the world
Infested with insanity
Against it she hurled
Tidal waves and hurricanes
Earthquakes and volcanoes
Vengeful bolt of lightning
And epic tornadoes
Her laughter grew high
And she took them all
Though there were pious prayers
She never answered their call
After a hundred years
The world was wiped
The cities were smooth
Worn by her might
She sank down deep
Into the center of the earth
Where spent the time
Giving birth
To a new form of life
One that was taught to love
Once they were ready
She put them above.
The sun beat down
On their virgin eyes
Sally sheltered them
While they grew used to the sky
Then they set out
To take the world for themselves
Sally went to sleep
Believing she’d done well
And there she rests
Feeling us move
The newest batch of ants
Slightly improved.
When she wakes up
Will she say we’re ok?
Will she leave us alone
Let us go as we may
Or will she know we’re doomed
Will she see we are gluttons
Atomic hydraulic bombs
At the push of a button
Will she shed a tear
As we’re engulfed in flames
Or will she start the cycle
All over again? |
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| Dresden Files |
[May. 11th, 2009|09:32 pm] |
Damn it. Why you gotta be like that? Huh? Why? Come on! You were looking like a good show and then you had to bring in shitty writers. What were you thinking! Sure, there's only so far you can go with a crappy idea like a city wizard, but the least you could have done is give the lead actor something good to work with. Not some shitty, splotchy plot that doesn't make sense.
The show it good in the beginning: the one liners are decent and the concept kicks ass, but then the writing... I don't even care about bad special effects. As long as I can see that it's a vampire, I don't care how fake the fangs are... but I do care if the lines are crap and the acting is basic evil fem fatal character. You know... those stupid women who go about swishing their sexiness on screen, speaking in that hushed "I'm going to kill you with my vagina" voice.
And now... I just watched the beginning of "storm front" in which the couple makes reference to "that thing outside the bar". Then their mouths start bleeding. We get a shot of their innards... I don't know why... then we see a bloody hand hit the window and slide down. Ok... this was the epitome of cliche. First off, it was bad fake blood. It was chunky. I don't know if fake blood is chunky... maybe they forgot to stir it? Next... the hand sliding down the window? Really people? Can we be any more like... every horror movie made between now and 2000? Really?! And the exposition. "That thing outside the bar." Of course they're going to die! Of course the thing is coming for you. Note to anyone ever thinking about macking it in a tall building after a wonderful outing at a bar: never reference the thing you saw outside the bar: It will get you. In the stomach.
And never kiss like an idiot because your mouth will bleed. Note to self: Father Christopher was right. I only have lips for... nevermind.
One more thing: the initial shot was a Hitchcock reference. I don't mind it because I just learned about the reference: the idea is watching a woman from outside a window, then moving in as if a predator is flying in to cut her throat. "But she's hot!" You might say "she's too pretty to die!" That's why they cast her numb nuts. That's why she's dieing: because she's pretty.
Hey! Look everyone! A post that doesn't mention the... well... what I always mention in my posts.
*Note: The previous complaints were made before I learned that it is a book series... now I gotta read the series because the show isn't half bad.* |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 1st, 2009|03:33 pm] |
So there's this girl... stop now if you've heard this one, but there's this girl I'm nuts about and I can't talk to her. Like... I can't as in... I won't. Because that'd be stupid. Because it wouldn't get me anywhere. I am fucking crazy about her and I don't even know who she is. And I go to school with her. She is another of those fucking fantasies that I set up in my head. The longer she is in my head, the more powerful the fantasy grows. If I talk with her, the fantasy will shatter and I'll be left with nothing... holy crap. That's what I need to do. Fuck, fuck, fuck! When I'm thinking about all this stuff, my latest issue with myself has been my capability to apply unrealistic attributes to a person of my fancy. I fancy someone and instead of really getting to know them, or deciding that I want to know them, or trying to remain level headed... I go ape shit and create this whole elaborate movie where we are hopelessly in love... but then it all comes crashing down on me. So I like this girl and I've thought I was in love with this girl sometimes... then I read "the art of loving" and was convinced that my "love" for this girl is bullshit. Go Fromm. Seriously, can't I get a fucking break and not have a crush? Huh? Fucking hell! I'm sick of them with their eyes and their faces and their fucking tits! Of course, most of them are my friends... not all of the women in the world, not most of them, but most of the friends I have are women. Let's leave it at that. K? Word. Now...
Fucking hell! I've written a script about her, though. It's damn good. A couple pages long and full of crap that I can't say in real life... like honest, to the point sentences that every fucking person wishes the object of their fancy would say like... I love you like a cow needs glasses. The point of that is: my love is irrational. I can't reason it out. The only reason a cow would need glasses would be if the cow needed to see that far. I can't think of cows who see grass. Another: I love you like a tree looking for grass. No shit! Trees don't look for grass. So I am a tree looking for grass, but the grass I'm looking for doesn't exist because there is grass all around me. Simple, right? Everyone thinks this way, right? Yay.
It's this weather, seriously folks. The weather. It's spring. Everything's thawing. Everything's coming up roses. I'm under a pact with RD to stay away from the romantic stuff until May 21st. Why? Because it's all romance to me. It's all sex and flowers and birds and bees. All the fucking time. I'm done with it. I have a reason to be done with it because I see the falsity of it. It's just this infatuation in me that blows my perceptions all out of proportion. I can't see for the life of me. I can't think straight. I can't concentrate in class. It's all those emotions that they talk about in the movies. The same thing happened with Kim. The same thing happened with Leandra. I'm not going to deal with disappointment again because I KNOW it will come. I'm not being negative, like a downer negative. I'm being negative because I know it's a fantasy and not a reality. It's not a real crush. Just another thing I'll get over when this school ends.
Fucking a to b to Z and back again. |
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| I have an hour. And a guitar. Figured I'd take a shot at it. Didn't turn out half bad. |
[Apr. 28th, 2009|09:01 pm] |
slow down, slow down
Slow down, slow down
If you Please
Slow down, Slow down
Slow down
Slow down and stop with me.
I am so composed But so explosive:
I am Alive.
I have the fuel riding in me
So won't you take me for a ride.
Life
Has not fathomed my existence
I make angels question their own.
I take the tools to the woodshed
And feed the dog its bone.
find me please.
I'm not so far.
do i walk a path unknown?
See me Now
Open your eyes
You will never be alone.
Read but don't judge
My life.
Understand
But don't make it known.
Give and want but don't you ask.
Not until you see what can't be shown.
(I promise I will requite)
slow down, slow down
Slow down, slow down
If you Please
Slow down, Slow down
Slow down
Slow down and stop with me.
I will live and breathe.
grow and die.
Feel, be numb,
and lose hope.
You show me what
it means to lie.
You will cut
Me from my rope.
Far behind me,
Is a joke,
I thought was true.
There you will find me,
It's not clear,
But that's fair to you.
slow down, slow down
Slow down, slow down
If you Please
Slow down, Slow down
Slow down
Slow down and stop with me. |
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| Weekend thoughts. |
[Apr. 13th, 2009|06:13 pm] |
Saw old family friends this weekend. Would say extended family, but... yeah... about that. Family like the members of a fraternity/sorority are family. And I figured out what our initiation is! We dunk people in the Atlantic ocean to see if they die! If they die, then they are a witch. If not, then they're really awesome people we feed brandy and other warm liquids to. Don't think anyone's ever died, though, so pretty much everyone is a member. I was reluctant to go at first, but I decided that since I was getting sick, I might as well get SICK!!!!! So I went in after everyone else went in. I dove under one wave, came up and howled at the top of my lungs. Then I went to walk back to the people on the shore. But I turned around and saw a big wave and I couldn't resist.
Nature has a way of taunting me when she touches me and I couldn't resist her exposing herself like that. I had to take the plunge and be embraced again... I know, it sounds like I'm creating innuendos, but I almost lost my pants the second time. I came up again and the sun beat down on my body with such warmth. The wind whipped at my skin and I realized that there is no way I can ever live far away from the ocean. I'm a New England boy, through and through. I need the mountains, valleys, lakes, rivers, streams, and the freezing cold Atlantic. I need the freezing cold in general: can't live without it. There have been times when I've popped my head out of my jacket just to feel the wind whipping at my ears. Just to feel something that, if I close my eyes, feels like home. Cold is a pain, but there are some colds, just like warmths, that have that feel of supernatural abundance where I feel like nothing can hurt me. I have lots of warmth inside me to give to nature. She can have as much as she wants because I have more to give.
Then I had to go back to the city.
I got to the bus station in time to pick up a 7pm ticket to NYC. I figured it would be no big deal because I'd be getting home by 11pm. Plenty of time to sleep before class. But nope, I get there are there is a line of at least fifty people (probably more) at the terminal. So I get into line at the end of the line and wait. We move forward until there are two guys ahead of me to get tickets... and it stops. The line stops because the 7pm bus is full. So we wait. For about 30 minutes. Because the fung wah peeps don't want to start selling tickets until they are sure another bus is coming in. So we wait. Then they announce that the next bus won't be until 9pm because it's stuck in traffic. They didn't start selling the tickets until 8pm, so I waited for a good hour in line while three people behind me struck up this wonderful conversation in which the female determined was caused by fate "I believe everything happens for a reason. You wait and see, this will be a fantastic business relationship." I almost figuratively puked. So, while they had a fantastic conversation, I sat on my dufflebag and waited until they opened the booth. While I sat there, people would come from the back of the line and ask what was going on and the guy at the front of the line kept telling people that the next bus wasn't until 9. There was this one woman who didn't believe him and walked away in a huff... that was the high point.
When the booth opened, I bought my ticket and went to wait in another long line for the bus. We waited for another hour. It rolled in and we got on the bus. Thing is, this wasn't your average Fung Wah bus: the seats were half the size that they usually are. I, being a kinda tall guy, was mushed; couldn't even put my knee on the seat in front of me to rest a book on. I slept for the first hour, then wrote a short story about a boy who climbs steps to a pyramid and is transported to a place where there isn't any sight.
It took us a record of three hours to get to the city, though. Usually it takes four. Then I waited on the subway for 30 minutes for a train to come. Rode for 45 minutes... got home later than I wanted to and crashed.
That was my exciting trip to the city. Nothing compared to diving into the ocean, though.
So I woke up this morning to get to class on time... then went back to sleep. Woke up at 9:30. Grumbled. Then got ready to go and left. |
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| My bugs!!! |
[Apr. 8th, 2009|12:07 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  optimistic | ] |
I was about to throw something up here about how I don't feel like I'm a man right now and I want to figure out what it means to be a man... then I realized I don't know what it means to be a boy, but I've been one for the longest time. I don't know what it means to be a guy, but I've been one for my whole life. I don't know what it means to be a man... so what? Why should I reach for something that has a title like that? Why should I strive to become something that I will never know that I am? Because it's a journey? Heroes journey... if you want to apply the search for peace of mind and the like in the epic sense... but I've been on many journeys. I've experienced my fair share of adventure. I've moved out, come back, come out on top and the bottom, and still I'm here. Thing is: I don't feel like I man when I am not fulfilling my desires. A man and a woman are the same damned thing: instinctual creatures of social habit. You do what you do as a woman just as if you were a man. You are manly or womanly based on your ideas of what it means to be one or the other. It means nothing to me. Being a man means nothing. Perhaps I should try being a boy? But being a boy is about being young and immature... a man is mature? A man is all the things superman is... except not alien. A woman is everything wonder woman is (or some female representation of power). It's all about power: what power do you have? What power don't you have? You don't have that power? You're not a man! It's silly and sad the little places we place ourselves.
I sit here thinking about whether I am a man or not. Does that make me a man? Does the manly thinking make me a man? Or am I thinking like a boy who thinks he is a man just by thinking about it? (If I reread that sentence I would have to read it over again to get it).
Man. Woman. Makes no difference. Fromm mentions that they are equal but not the same: I am a man and I have an equal part somewhere: the one made for me (this is not Fromm). But I should stop looking for a female who is the same as me... I am not the same as any woman. I can't be. I have a penis. So I should look for the counterpart... counter-part... the polar opposite of who I am. Not different, not the same, but on the other side of the pole of my world. A person to meet half way and share a pina coolata with at the Equator. Probably talk about metaphysics and how basketball doesn't make sense if you really think about it... unless you think in metaphors. Then it makes perfect sense.
So it doesn't matter whether I think I am or not because that does not make me. Just because I think does not mean I am. It means I am trying to be what I think I am: I am trying to create a facade to block who I really am. No one thinks like they really are; no one is conscious of what is reality. To say "I think therefore I am" is saying: I put on this mask, therefore this is my face. I wear these gloves, therefore these are my hands. I run in these sneakers. I must be shod in only New Balance. We are who we do not think we are. The person we think we are not is the one we are because we DO NOT WANT to be that person who thinks in the way we don't want to think.
www.youtube.com/watch
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 29th, 2009|11:31 pm] |
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I feel like Wile E Coyote. I can't keep up with the road runner, so I set a trap. Then the trap backfires and hits me. I feel like I'm constantly being hit by anvils and pianos. I see the birds, but do I learn? Nope. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 22nd, 2009|05:49 pm] |
You know what I love about intelligent conversation? All the paragraphs. Ever read something written by a smart guy and thought: "huh... no kidding... wow..." then discarded it like a toilet brush that you accidentally used on your teeth? Can you believe that last sentence was a question?
I just watched something on youtube about social capitalism and affairs of state... and then I read the comments below the video. Paragraphs. This country is run on freakin' paragraphs. People bogging back and forth trying to make sense of the world through senseless paragraphs. I'm sure they make sense. What I'm writing makes sense right now but I've written some really sensible things that don't make any sense at all.
Paragraphs... Respond via paragraph and make some points. Now I'm going to respond to each point with my own set of paragraphs. Every little point requires a paragraph to support or disprove it. Can't we just sleep on the couch and watch TV? Can't I just lounge around and consume all the useless junk in the store and forget about reading paragraph after paragraph about how to do something or why the world is going to shit? No, because the mark of an educated person is someone who can read said paragraphs, understand them, and write his or her own paragraph. If you understand where I'm going with this then you're far ahead of the ballpark. This is why Socrates was awesome. He had dialogue. This is why theater kicks a tiny bit more ass than philosophy. Philosophy seeks the truth only thought paragraphs and rhetoric: theatre seeks the truth through everything and anything known and unknown to man. Where philosophy makes points and struggles with the big questions, an actor has to be the point and forget about the questions. He has to make himself the question that other people tend to ask when the show is done. Thing is, while the show is going on, an actor finds his or her own answer to the question just by living the truth he or she is pursuing.
This is why I'm not pursuing a PHD in philosophy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 5th, 2009|08:31 pm] |
I'm using someone else's internet for this post.
Life has been odd lately. I split with Leandra two weeks ago and I've been living roller coasters since. It's weird. I've finally learned to focus on repelling relationships. I know how to do it now. But there's still that loneliness: That gap in my life that needs to be filled somehow. I'm working to fill it, but it's going to take a long ass time.
I've been getting better at guitar. I've been practicing every day since Leandra and I split. I've also gone back to my workout schedule. I've also been writing more. I'm filling the hole in my life with things that I create. Makes me wonder if I create relationships to fill the hole as well: I need something to pass the time and I focus on a woman to fill that creative impulse I have. If there is no one to humor that impulse, then I do other things... like what I want to do with my life: theatre.
I have a choice to make that I really need to decide on: do I want a wife and kids or do I want to be an artist. I don't think I can be both at the same time. It may be too soon to tell at this moment, but it's a pattern in my life that has been constant for a long time now: women usurp my inspiration. I have a muse, but it's in me and not in another female. Thing is: I treat women like objects with brains. I need that mental connection or else I get bored.
So I'd like to see what it's like to be stupid and sex-driven. And follow that part of me that I've repressed for a long time. It's a necessary thing now because I have to do it for class: I have to create a character who is totally devoted to sex for his attachment: he gets fulfillment through sex so he can feel connected. It's also a method of distancing the self from another person: removing contact. It's hard, but I'm learning how to do it and my teacher is being a big help. It's all part of being a man and it's that one aspect of myself that I've been trying to suppress. That's why we call it our shadow. So maybe I can bring it into the light so I can come to terms with it.
I've been writing a lot: A little romantic musical piece came to me in my sleep one night when I tried to go to bed at 9pm. I dreamed about dancing with a woman in the park in front of lots of people so I wrote a song about it. It's a duet. Maybe I can sing it with one of my peers. I'm writing a play about a woman who gets an abortion. I'm about 20 pages into it. It's very confronting and compelling. I'm a pretty damn good writer if I do say so myself. When I put my mind to it, I can write dialogue and characters like you wouldn't believe. I just have to annul the outside world so I can concentrate. That's why lack of internet has been so nice lately. I've been able to think and not obsess about the lack of communication. If I don't have it at my fingertips, I can't be compelled to use it. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 29th, 2009|03:25 pm] |
So... I was riding on the train working on a song with a three part harmony. I was really into it, too, writing it down in my notebook to figure out when I got home. I got halfway through it, when I heard a guitar start to play. I cringed. The mariachi started to play. Seriously? I'm working here. I'm trying to be creative and you have to interrupt me with your mariachi bullshit. I have nothing against Mexicans, or mariachis. But Subway mariachis... well... I wrote a new song.
I hate subway mariachis
They make me lose my mind
When I try to get work done
They interrupt every time
When a mariachi
Starts to play on my train
I want to take his guitar
And bash in his brain
I have nothing against Mexicans
They're mostly pretty cool.
But when they become a mariachi
I want to drown them in a pool.
I am not a racist
I just want to make that clear
When I hear those Mexican songs
I want to rip out my ears
The tune gets stuck in my head
And I can't think for days
I don't understand their songs
I never know what they say
Someday I'll get to Mexico
And play an Irish Jig
I don't care if they cry
Inside, I already did
They should never get added to a stew
That would make it worse
I hate subway mariachis
This is my last verse.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7uyKYeGPdE |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 27th, 2009|07:20 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Queen of Quiet: Erin McKeowen | ] |
So, I'm writing in LJ and I'm in a good mood. Woh.
So, I'm in a good place right now. Right now, I am in a good place. Because it's now. It hasn't changed for the past couple of hours, so we'll see what happens.
It all started when I was on the subway this afternoon after school. I was knodding off and almost knocking into people in my tiredness, so I decided to start writing to keep myself from falling asleep. In my writing binge, I created a play for a festival of 10-minute plays that was advertised on craigslist. I wrote a play about an alchemist who is trying to turn his ex-girlfriend from a dragon back into a normal human being. The theme of the festival is Apples. So I made the alchemist throw different kinds of apples into the dragon's mouth. The first was to squelch the fire. The second was to make her brain human. The third was to make her body human and give her a very heavy dose of antidepressants because the alchemist knew that the woman would kill him for turning her into a dragon. The alchemist's assistant drove her home, and he ate the last apple. That's the short version. It took me about two hours and I don't believe it will get into the festival because it's a two-dimensional piece of crap. But it's a piece of crap that has a story and decent character development. So it's a new age piece of crap. It glows with new ageness. Or it would if it was on my computer because things on the computer tend to glow... 'cause computers glow. With new ageness. But my computer is an old fart that needs to be replaced eventually. Not now, though. I am still on it and can carry on with it for another two years. Hopefully by then I'll be rich enough to afford one.
Dad bailed me out of rent this month. I'm very thankful for that. I got a call today about a job tomorrow evening as a coat check guy. It's another catering company. I don't know how they got my number, and I don't care. It's a job. I'll get tips. And I'll get paid.
I wrote a comedy sketch a couple days ago and sent it to my siblings. It's dirty and disgusting. Let me know if you'd like to read it and I'll send it over. But for those of you who are not aware: I know about sex. So it's about sex. A lot of it. Maybe you folks over 40 should avert your eyes. You innocent virgins, you.
The girl and I are still kicking boots, which is pretty cool. We have fun together, but nothing long lasting in the works. I really hope there isn't anything long lasting... because I was bored on Saturday night and responded to a craigslist personal add by this girl who wanted a funny/smart/good man. Really? Someone wants SMART? COOL! I can fake that! So I sent her an e-mail with two pictures (that headshot that makes me look like I could turn a girl straight, and the one of me on top of Mt. Manadnock... gotta juxtapose) and a fun e-mail and gave up on it. She responded back with a fairly attractive picture and an e-mail: sure, love to meet you. We met at a Starbucks. I was 45 minutes late. She was still waiting hoping that sleazebag in the corner wasn't me. So we talked for a while in a Borders because there weren't any seats in Starbucks for me to steal. She's works for penguin. It's so cool to meet girls with careers. Makes me think I ought to have one soon. Ha! So she reads a lot. Does publicity for people who write books. I could use a friend like that... especially if I want a play published.
She's pretty cute. Not as much as her picture said she was, and she has that teenybopper attitude and accent with the odd upward and downward inflection. Little rich girl. Woot. But basically charming and harmless.
I've been starved for folk music lately so I've created a christine lavin channel on Pandora. That's what I'm listening to now. If you haven't heard it, check out Steven Lynch's Bazzel... I think that's what it's called. Gay Satan, been done, but still funny. So I heard the ballad of baseball. Good stuff.
So them's the beans. I'm doing well enough not to complain about women, money, or lack of food. Gotta start sleeping, though. I'm starting to carry groceries in the bags under my eyes. Really. Under the left eye I carry my eggs, and under the right eye I carry the PB and J. I never carry onions, though. They make things slippery. |
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| No me gusta covers!!! |
[Jan. 11th, 2009|04:08 pm] |
I hate fucking covers
They just show you know the band
Who's making all the money
While while you do slight of hand
You know all of the lyrics
Just like everyone
And when the song is over
It's the composer who has won
I hate those fucking covers
I can't stand to hear them played
The original spark is dead
When I hear them arrogantly brayed
When the original is sung
Natural magic fills the air
But when it's covered by a selfish hack
I cease to give a care
Now I know this poem sucks
But at least they're my words
At least I can make a tune
Even if though sounds absurd
I feel free when I can list off
The thoughts in my head
I don't care if you don't want to hear
At least I'm not brain dead
Like you
Cover bands who play
Dave Matthews and The Doors
Tribute bands who get paid
For originals that aren't yours
Who cares if you can twist it
So it sounds wicked cool
Calling yourself a cover artist
Will not make you Tool
So I will harp all I can
And rage and rant and rave
Using a meter that's overused
It's my A B A B cage
What is originality
And what is just inane?
If I keep thinking about the difference
I expect to go insane
So
Here's to you people
Who try to make it real
Who feel it's better to fuck up
Than to be ground under the wheel
Who make the world revolve
Around their thoughts and dreams
Rather than go with the flow
And ignore what it all means |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 4th, 2009|02:46 am] |
So... I'm up 'cause I can't sleep. I've been spending the past week with Leandra. I don't think there have been any days since Monday that I haven't spent with her. And now I can't sleep. Not that I'm saying anything mind you, but it's kinda neat that we're talking online 'cause neither of us can sleep.
So I'm going to venture a guess, and I may or may not be wrong about this but we'll see. Thing is: I'm nuts about this girl and it's strange.
It's probably puppy love and since we haven't known each other for longer than three months, things are in the happy go lucky phase and we can't get enough of each other. Really. That's what it is.
But, since I'm disgustingly in love with the girl, and when I say disgusting... you'd puke with the amount of cuteness seeping from the pores of our relationship. Really. Yuck. The things I've said that only comic book characters and sappy love song singers say... Unforgivable. Yet strangely fun and exciting.
From an acting standpoint: This is great. I can look at her and the emotions just come to me without being evoked... I suppose looking at her is consciously evoking the feelings, but I can't control those emotions when they come. They slip right through my head and into my chest and stomach. She says she likes the way I look at her and I'm not trying to look at her in any different way: i'm just feeling things and looking at her. I suppose the feelings come through my eyes without me trying. It's wonderful! I've been trying to emote for the majority of my acting life: pretending to have emotions. That is lying; the acting that people think actors do. It's low acting and not something I'm looking to do. I can be in the moment with her, and she's teaching me how to do it though she isn't aware of it. I can be emotional without trying to be emotional, you see? In my life, I've been acting: trying to express emotions that I don't have because I've felt they are the appropriate emotions in a circumstance. That's why people think I try too hard: because I'm always trying to show people what I think they want to see. I realize that when I stop caring about other people's opinion of how I am, then I can be who I am with them and they will appreciate me for me. And if they don't, fuck 'em. |
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