Had to clear out of the house today for a bit. I bummed around the Mills mall for a while, but didn't buy anything. It was nearly empty, and as a result, horribly depressing. With melancholy brimming out of every pocket, it was off to Borders for story time. And I stumbled upon a book of poetry by John Keats. I turned to the page marked by the ribbon sewn into the book and read this -

"To Sorrow,
I bade good-morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
I would deceive her
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind."

I do believe I have a certifiable man-crush.

and on and on

It's another day today. Same old thing again. Although I am completely capable of changing that, I usually don't. Curious.

I can't decide what's going on with me when it comes to Jessica. Sometimes I want to break it off, but then when I'm with her, I think maybe we have more in common than I had thought. It's hard to figure out exactly. But I probably am thinking a little more clearly when I am by myself. I don't know.

My 'performance' at open mic night went ok. I couldn't read the sheet music for the fingerstyle song, so that didn't work. This being my first time doing this, I sort of fumbled through the song I had written. A learning experience, I guess. Just struming chords is boring to listen to, so I've been working on adding stuff in between chord. My guitar teacher gave me a bunch of stuff. He is cerifiably awesome.

Some customer complained about the jazz music at work, so that means no more of that. The fucker. I hope he gets hit by a truck. My manager was kind enough to let me switch it to Bob Dylan. I told her that if a customer complained about "motherfuckin' Bob Dylan" I would throw them out of the store. She laughed. I bet she though I was kidding.

pegged

Just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Go watch it. It is so beautiful. I wish I had someone to watch it with. Just me and a fuzzy, purring ball of cat in my lap. Lame.

Work today was uneventful, as always. Well, not quite. I finally snapped and turned off the radio. A man can only listen to Bon Jovi so many times. My limit was twice. Anyways, I grapped my ipod (yes, I realize that this makes me a trend whore) and my FM transmitter and laid down some sultry jazz for the customers to enjoy. Just the basics- John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Larry Corryel, some others. I'm not some jazz affecionado, but the radio just sucks. The only thing I like is an oldies station and this kick-ass program on NPR on Sunday nights. It's some guy doing stream-of-thought readings or something. So good.

Tomorow I'm doing my first show. Well, to call it a show would be an overstatement. It's open mic night at Swing State, and I will be making an appearance. Hoo haw. I only have one song finished, but I figured I'd do that and this fun fingerstyle piece I've been working on for a while. I hope it goes well.

Must practice now. Bye.

sorry sorry

Spent an hour or so dinking around, trying to add fun widgets to this dear old blog. Nothing doing. HTML makes me nervous. Oh well. Just trying to get more readers.

Probably going to break up with Jessica in the near future. Well, breaking up implies that there was something to break. Not so much. Just casusal friends that enjoy making out. I hope that it doesn't make her cry. I probably led her on a lot more than I should have. Shit.

I've had several people tell me that I should go to one of those online dating things. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not. Leaning more towards not. Probably just need to get out more. Although I do feel quite silly being as old as I am and not having any idea about being in a relationship. A recurring theme. Err. I just want someone to love, as lame as that sounds. And I want to be loved.

on avery island

The name of the album I happen to be subscribing to right this very moment. It is a goddamn shame NMH had to break up. Such consistent, oven-fresh goodness lost forever. If you do happen to be looking for our dearest Jeff Mangum, here is the latest news on his whereabouts. Well, I was going to link to something. But it turns out, after research time approaching nigh 15 mintues, Mr. Mangum is probably somewhere in New York City. Apparently, the man pops up sporadically to play with Elephant 6 bands. Here's the link to the Wikipedia about him.

I have $69.85 in my bank account. There's a digital recorder thingy at Music Go Round that requires my immediate purchasing of it. The cost is $299.95. I shall no longer purchase gasoline. Or food. Once said digital recorder is in my possession, I shall drive to Scott's house with my guitar, cello, mics, cables, amp, and notebook and begin the setup. Then, with his fatty analog keyboard, we shall be divine. And greatly anger the remaining gods on Mt. Olympus.

communities?

I can't sleep. I wish that I didn't need rest. As if life wasn't short enough, this body has the need to sleep through 1/3 of it. But here we are. Me whining and you reading. So, a brief synopsis of whatever the hell popped into my head that I can remember.

Been bumming around on the web, trying to find a site with decent blogging stuff. Where there's a decent community. I always end up here. Even though there's no community, really. I'm basically just talking to myself here. And it is frustrating. I want to have some people from exotic place like England to talk to. Instead, I just have this blog and a flickr account, neither of which people seem to want to comment on. Fiddlesticks!

I can't muster up the willpower to detail a synopsis for you. So sorry to disappoint. There wasn't much worth remembering today. Another day of work. Another day of me spending too much damn time watching TV and doing nothing.

I am finding myself more and more wishing to go back in time. To when I was in 5th or 6th grade. I'd walk up to me and say, "Hey, me. Fuck this whole soccer and math and science thing. Get into photography. Get into music. Take up guitar. Take up cello. And take these CDs. This one is by Elliott Smith, there are a few others. Here's a list of tour dates for Neutral Milk Hotel and a homing beacon. It is essential that you try and tag Jeff Mangum behind the ear with this. Oh, and by the way, fuck Christianity. Just toss that shit right out the window." How much better it would have been. But it's all a waste of time. Nothing will come of it.

I don't know what it is, but I am furious with myself. I don't know why. I want to go join the army just to spite myself. I am sick. Of these walls, of my car dash, of the same grey landscape passing before my dull, unseeing eyes. I can't sit still. My skin is crawling. I can't stop tearing at my hair. Yargh! Errgh. Ehhhhhmmm. . Fuck! Fuck.

it turns out that kissing is a blast

So the title says it well. The girl I met at Quizno's (her name is Jessica, by the way) is really fun to hang out with. And she's really pretty and funny. I met her family the other day. The word 'quirky' comes to mind. But they are a blast. Although I think that I make her parents a bit nervous. Oh well. At first, I didn't think that we were good together. It was fairly awkward. But it turns out that we were both just being rather shy, and now that we are more comfortable around each other, everything's going well.

No one told me that making out was so fun. I feel very much let down - looking at you, Katie. Regardless... wow. The first time, before I left her house, my arms wouldn't stop shaking. It was like everything had quietly melted. I can barely remember when we kissed. But it wasn't awkward. It was like we had practiced it - like we were liquid. It was lovely.

{ [] }

I can adapt my personality.
To meet your needs.

I can exhale who I am.
And inhale who you want me to be.

I am a twenty year old newborn.
That sleeps in your cupped hands.

Please don't let me be alone.

and the light from your eyes will outlive us all.

Listening right now to "Amy in the White Coat" by Bright Eyes. If I had to pick a song to listen to before offing myself, this would probably be it. Most. Depressingly. Beautiful. Song. Ever. That is, until I find a new one. Give it two or three weeks.

Been bumming around flickr again. I am rather frightened. There are so many good photographers out there. It borders on absurd. Right on that edge there. How can I compete? I take shots and think they're pretty good. Nothing fantastic. But I'm still proud of them, kind of like a parent with an ugly kid or something. Then I, in my wanderings, look at other folk's stuff. People that are sixteen, seventeen, have just the most incredible shots, beautiful lighting. And then I go back to my stuff and am ashamed. I want to un-post them, but I don't. It wouldn't accomplish anything. There is nothing to do except keep on taking shots. I'm not sure how I'll get better by doing that. I want to use the good stuff on flickr as inspiration, but it just ends up as discouragement. Like a cripple watching a track meet.

I hate pitying myself like this. I just ran out of things to do.