I had a strange day sunday.
my roommates were out of town and I had expected them back sometime sunday. so I rolled out of bed around one p.m. or so and made some toast and tea, scratched my belly, and ate. I washed my dish and cup and then kinda stared out into the living room. that was when I noticed just how loud silence was. it was kinda spooky, so I went to my room and turned on the television, sat in my recliner, and watched nothing for a good ten minutes.
I took a shower, dried off, and put on some boxers. at this point, I realized my roommates still weren't home and I would hear them unlocking the door, so I just hung out in my undies. I plopped down in the living room and started playing some video games. this went on for a while when I noticed it was getting late.
rather than be worried they might be stranded or hurt or something, I somehow convinced my self (in record time) that they really were home and that I was a ghost since I had died the previous evening. what was going on was that I was merely haunting my old living space.
it explained a lot, really. like why no one was telling me to get dressed and why I kept hearing things and feeling like people were watching me.
but then I had an IM conversation with a friend. I'm pretty sure ghosts can't do that stuff. so I guess I'm not dead.
but I did a pretty good job at telling myself I was.

things have been...going, I suppose.
in october I drove from austin to champaign, IL to see a hum concert. hum is my favorite band of, like, ever and the ten plus hour drive was well worth it. that part of the country was just beginning to become beautiful because of the fall and the leaves were starting their natural redecorating process. I took pictures. they were captured with a disposable camera, which I like to do, so excuse the crap.
I now work for a software corporation which makes programs that prevent identity theft and what not. I test the software for them, which is to say that I sit at a computer all day and wonder if life can get more boring. usually, it can't. in fact, I'm at my desk right now.
life in general is pretty boring right about now. I have a second home. it's a bar. it's the sidebar. I spend a lot of time there with friends, but not to drown sorrows. I enjoy the bar. I enjoy the bartenders and most of the regulars (like myself). I am treated well within it's walls and it's always a good time.
there was a girl for a bit. a very little bit. we talked and had a good time. we messed around and we drank some beers during scary movies. but friends was the way to go. it was her call, but I'm kinda glad she did it. I wasn't heartbroken, just bored for a while.
I'm sweet on a girl right now, though. I'm trying to be as realistic as possible about this one. I know I'm attracted to her, but that's about it. we've never been out, but we talk a lot...still, I don't know much about her. suffice to say, since I don't really know her, I don't know if I like her. I won't let myself just jump into this. but she's really hot AND cute (trust me...in my mind, that makes perfect sense). if this heads in a friends direction, I won't be all that upset. either way, it's kind of a win/win situation.
jenny lewis is out the freaking window. I have a new celebrity crush. her name is scout niblett. listen to her music. and she's much hotter in person. trust me.
I will now get back to freakin work.

first thing's fucking first: the new matt pond PA rocks. not like 'rocks you a new one' or throwing up the metal sign in the air and screaming 'rock and roll'...it just rocks.
second...after realizing the band released a new album, I thought they should be touring, no? indeed they are. up north. so I use the email address from the webpage and, you know...I'm not dumb. I know these things go to some manager or some such person. so I ask if the band is coming to texas or (god forbid) had I actually missed them.
well...I got a response today. the band is coming through texas in feb/mar. there were some humorous quips in response to some funny things I had said, and the name at the bottom?

matt.

hmmm...does matt pond personally respond to the band's emails? or is it some manager posing as matt pond? why am I making a big deal about it?
still, it made me smile. they are my favorite band that's still around.
I'll be damned. this is funny...

gonna get a new tattoo
black and stretch it around my arm...

oh wait...I just did. zombies hurt like a mutha. but my entire left forearm (up a little past my elbow) is infested with them. it's sooooo cool. someday when my laptop works again, I'll upload photos.
or maybe hez will put them up on the parlour's website.
my friends are gonna hate it and I'll never be able to wear a short sleeve shirt around my mother again...but I love this tattoo...and there is color to come in about a month. wheeeeee. that's what you say when you're having fun: you refer to yourself and a bunch of other people. bye bye.

half price books, north lamar.

aside from going there from time to time just to be too shy to talk to the really cute girl that works there, I've been marked as 'that guy' by the people that run the nostalgia section in the back. I am quite nororious for walking in and 'checking out' the man with the golden arm, by nelson algren...my all time favorite author (he's yours, too, you just might not know it yet). it's a first edition and aside from some dust jacket wear, it is in very good shape.

so today I saunter in as usual and everything is proceeding as per the normal routine, barring the fact that the cute girl was not working. I stroll in the classics section in the back and the dude is behind the desk. he kinda chuckles when he sees me, but I don't pay him any mind. I know exactly where I'm fucking going. I grab the book from the top shelf (if it wasn't for the fact that his last name starts with an A, I'd swear they were trying to keep it out of my reach) and I hear him from behind my back:

"come to pet it again?"

"not today my friend. today I come to buy! cha-ching!" and so as he was filling out the ticket, he started telling me about this other nelson algren curio that they had in stock. he shows me the book and I've never heard of the fucking thing. it wasn't by algren, but the little tag on the front said it had artwork by him.

artwork? he did artwork for a book? I open the book and the very first page has a picture of nelson algren's 'cat'. a sketch he drew pretty often.

basically, what it boiled down to was that this book had been in nelson algren's hands (did he own it? did he just doodle in a friend's book?) and he himself had drawn the cat on the inside cover.

I had touched greatness. I had not, however, the seventy-five doodles to pay for the fucking thing.

guess I know what I'm doing when I get paid again. so far, I've got two of his first editions. must have them all.....

all I want in life's a little love to take the pain away.
getting stronger every day...
a giant step every day.


and so I walked away from a life less normal.
but I'll go back if you ask me...

I'm about to get all experimental up in this biatch. if I don't wake up, you know what happened.

I took an RX sleeping pill last night and decided to fight it. the apartment was swaying like a fucking ship on bad seas. it was kinda cool. I want to take one again, but I've been drinking.
it gave me some weird fucking dreams, though. I dreamt I was back in high school band camp and the old directors were there and were at something like dci. and I was playing quints. it's odd. I remember asking to play quints in high school, but dude wouldn't hear of it because I was first chair trombone. I was good in the dream, too. I heard walls of sound like no other.
then I had another fucking zombie dream...it wasn't to goofball. the thing about the dreams was that they were so fucking vivid. it was like tv. more so than ever before.
these are times that can't be weathered
and we have never been back there since then.
there's a difference between living a dream and living in one. I'm currently stuck in the latter. not so fucking good, lemme tell you. but I don't really fucking care. despite how bad things get, I'm pretty fucking cheerful about the whole damn situation. it might not be healthy, but it's good for me, dammit.

Morpheus


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

waking up to knocks on my door.
no one ever knocks on my door.
my roommate comes and and informs me (a little too calmly) of a fire.
so immediately, I'm awake, I'm looking for battle stations, flash gear, a scott tank.
how unnecessary. the fire is in the next building over. still, it's maybe only a hundred feet away. and it stinks. not like burning people, it just fucking stinks.
the fire department was already there and I was watching them. watching the fire. not in a fascinated sick kinda way. just being prepared. I had noticed that the fire could eat up this one tree and then jump over to our bulding.
a roommate asked me for my digital camera so he could take pictures of it. I almost smacked the back of his head. and anyway, there was nothing remotely ineresting in a picture kind of way.
I went back inside and looked around. if I was told to get the fuck out in one minute, what would I take? I came to the conclusion that I'm not too attatched to too many of my things. it would suck to lose it all, but I wouldn't be too fucked up over it.
the ipod would certainly come. and most likely my eight track. maybe the uke.
now I find myself thinking that I would actually grab the memory cards from my video game consoles.
retard.

there is only so much a man can despair about until grief is thrown out of the window. push a man far enough and he will surely decide to care no more about earthly things.
it's interesting. I've always thought that I could always find a way. always. and in this dire time of need, I have. it's not the most noble or decent way, but it's getting the job done.
I've cast off worry and care and though I've never been in more desperate times, I don't think I've ever been happier. isn't it odd how the two are not mutually exclusive?
now...
feed me a boxcar tale and I'll feed you a can of beans while you let me share your bourbon and we talk about everything that never worked and how we decided to live outside the shadows of everyone that was doing well.
we'll jump a train and ride until we run out of food...stopping only to steal what we need to live and I promise:
I promise that next time we stop, I'll buy the bourbon.

seriously, though! who the fuck puts meat in queso? well, the assholes at taco cabana managed to slip a piece of fajita and a piece of chicken into my queso last night. I scooped it up with a tasty torilla chip and recieved quite a surprise. I narrowly avoided the chicken.
get real. it's not like I vomit if I taste meat or something. I don't do this shit for the fucking animals, man. I could care less about most of them. just don't fucking eat turtles, for chrissakes.
and then this morning as I was prepping my coffee maker, I poured the water into the filter basket. yup. filled it to the brim before I realized what the fuck I was doing. no harm, no foul. it's just a good thing no one was watching.
dammit it's fucking early.

it's times like this I wished I lived alone. nothing against my roommates, but I'm listening to elliott smith and I feel the fucking need to sing like crazy. but it's six a.m. hence, I cannot. and I don't think driving right now is a good idea. so I'm stuck here.
tonight at sidebar, joshua gave us thirteen free credits on the juke. hells yeah, I played some stereolab, yo. then the sanjeev and I went to dog and duck and over four beers, our tab was only five bucks. it's good to have friends in the service industry.
man, if I go to rock the casbah on saturday, nobody can get pissed at me when I actually try to dance. they might break out the fire hose and kick me out with it. you never know.
I've drunk myself into a hangover and I'm not too happy about it, dammit. can't remember the last time I had a fucking hangover. wait. yes I can. neverfuckingmind.
I want to write a story using only song lyrics. hmmm...I should just concentrate instead on the current things I'm working on, huh? retard.
blah.

honestly, though, I've been having tons of fun the last week or so. despite spending way too much fucking time at sidebar, things're going great. I'm having a good time, at least. plus I like food. yes I do.

ever since the puddin incident (which no one ever fessed up to), I've been using the onscreen keyboard which sucks much ass. but now thanks to the sanjeev, I have a typing apparatus once more. who's happy? me. indeed. so as my moustache gets out of control, as it seems to be doing (boing) now, I will update. christ I need sleep. lkaj0blah.

I was totally expecting to sleep til about four this afternoon. stupid coffee. I kept waking up after two hours of sleep or so.
tonight was fun despite the massive injury I incurred when I pretty much kicked a big bronze cow. still fucking hurts.
I have been converted. I suppose I like the album leaf now.
listening to it during a six a.m. drive home will do that to you.
indeed

so nelson algren has this short poem entitled "chicago: city on the make". it's wonderfully beautiful in ways I can't pretend to understand. then there are the chapter titles. these brief one liners are things of greatness. in fact, I've decided that should I ever write an instrumental album, I shall name all seven songs after the chapters. what a track list it would be. imagine how beautiful this album would sound:
1. the hustlers
2. are you a christian?
3. the silver-colored yesterday
4. love is for barflies
5. bright faces of tomorrow
6. no more giants
7. nobody knows where o'connor went

just don't be fooled by track number two. algren didn't hate most christians, but he didn't really trust them, either. in fact, most men of faith in his books are crooks the same as any of the other bums.
yesss...who wants to help?

boring day. I spent a lot of it watching some old movies, which was nice, I suppose. for my evening, I went a little up north to half-price and looked around for about an hour. I love looking at the rare and collectibles section. I actually found a first edition of the man with the golden arm. I didn't ask how much it was, though. probably no more than thirty or so. that really pisses me off. his books should be worth way fucking more than that. someday I'll have all of his works in first ed's.
I had freebirds for dinner again. but I haven't been in the mood to drink at all today. it's a good thing, really. I need to give my system at least a few days to regain some normalcy.
eh, all in all, I guess it's been a decent day.

dreams...
so I had this dream that zombies attacked my parents' house last night.
it was day time and the only survivors were my oldest brother and me. we had an arrangement, it seems. he was the muscle and I was the brains. I would coordinate which parts of the house to use and not use, set up traps and alarms...etc. he just beat the fuck out of any zombies that made it in. he liked this gigantic red sledgehammer. all I had was a pool cue.
well, for some reason or another, my brother couldn't come into the kitchen when this one asshole zombie got in. I tried to beat him back with the pool stick, but it was getting me nowhere. I saw my brother's sledgehammer and tried to whack this bastard. it was too fucking heavy.
I kept missing the zombie's head, which as we all know, is the only way to really kill a zombie.
with the last of my strength, I gave it one more shot. I missed again. the zombie closed in and grabbed me. it was not entirely unlike a hug. and then it bit me. just a nibble on my right shoulder. right where...nevermind.
true to any classic horror movie, this is the point when my brother decided to show up and destroy the zombie. he mauled the fucker and then turned around to look at me. I didn't have to say anything--he knew.
I tried to tell him that he had to fucking kill me, but he wouldn't do it. so he locked me up in my mom and dad's room. what a shitty deal.
as the bite started to do it's business, I started to get a little crazy. I would hear people talking out in the house. by the time that I couldn't move anymore, I heard my brother open the door and let my entire family in to see me. I thought that was a little odd seeing as how they were all dead and whatnot.
somewhere along the line, I passed out and felt my body sinking without leaving the bed. I passed through the ground, through the earth. I floated through green airs swirling around this way and that. I floated through hell. I stopped at heaven. weird, huh? heaven was under everything.
but of course it wasn't my time or some such reason, so they sent me back to my body.
I never actually became a zombie in the dream, and I guess I didn't totally die, either. but pretty strange none the less, huh?

I stole ( this )