Danger Is My Middle Name

Dude, fuck.

Far Better

Much more groovy this morning.

besides that shit below....

last night, the rig sounded fucking amazing. don't think that i mesmerized the drummer again, but the sound kickin' me in the ass was damn close to my ideal. i had to turn the preamp up a touch and the master up one whole to compete with the wank-fest. erin and i were still in the twilight zone, so to speak, and couldn't hear the prime directive.

the bass is soundin' mighty. i wish that there was a way to hold string corrosion in place, though. next week, i'm due for a change, and i hate that ultra-bright new string sound. once it sounds great, i know that it's almost time to change. i like that "i'm a dying nickel string" sound.

The Thing of it is, I know what's happening (heavy) I'm really trying to refrain from the epic introspective (BS) posts. Also refraining from mundane shit. Actually, i'm preparing for delta server delta format. Keepin' it real, an' shit.A complete anxiety meltdown today. I parked the rig because I couldn't see straight, couldn't breathe, and was fully going to pieces for no apparent reason (this was really painful to me). There was frantic calling of friends that I don't think would participate in a conspiracy against me. Erich thinks that I'm in need of a drink (after 22 days sober? this is a record, indeed), and that things have been going far too well for me lately (or, better than I've become accustomed to). Thus, my unconscious things are the real conspirators. He also believes that people have better things to do. This all seems quite reasonable to me. ( i have a controlable desire to diagram sentences--should've done this post in latin just for fun--maybe next time)I know that it's completely fuckeed (tm), really. That doesn't stop it, though.(insert three hours here)A trip to the store of liquor (the bra-less wonder), and i'm much more relaxeed (tm). Dr. Vodka, Lift Your Skinny Fists (beautiful record) on repeat, some comfort food, and a quick chat with meine Donnerbrüder (et allia), and I'm back in one piece for the time being. Thank you to my best townie friends (and dr. e-dogg) on this one. I owe y'all one, really really.Still, I think that I need to pay a visit to a shrink (EEEK). There should be an anti-anxiety inhaler (or weed, as Erich suggests) or something else that's new and cool and instant.

I'm really trying to refrain from the epic introspective (BS) posts. Also refraining from mundane shit. Actually, i'm preparing for delta server delta format. Keepin' it real, an' shit.

A complete anxiety meltdown today. I parked the rig because I couldn't see straight, couldn't breathe, and was fully going to pieces for no apparent reason (this was really painful to me). There was frantic calling of friends that I don't think would participate in a conspiracy against me. Erich thinks that I'm in need of a drink (after 22 days sober? this is a record, indeed), and that things have been going far too well for me lately (or, better than I've become accustomed to). Thus, my unconscious things are the real conspirators. He also believes that people have better things to do. This all seems quite reasonable to me. ( i have a controlable desire to diagram sentences--should've done this post in latin just for fun--maybe next time)

I know that it's completely fuckeed (tm), really. That doesn't stop it, though.

(insert three hours here)

A trip to the store of liquor (the bra-less wonder), and i'm much more relaxeed (tm). Dr. Vodka, Lift Your Skinny Fists (beautiful record) on repeat, some comfort food, and a quick chat with meine Donnerbrüder (et allia), and I'm back in one piece for the time being. Thank you to my best townie friends (and dr. e-dogg) on this one. I owe y'all one, really really.

Still, I think that I need to pay a visit to a shrink (EEEK). There should be an anti-anxiety inhaler (or weed, as Erich suggests) or something else that's new and cool and instant.

Hate Those Phone Calls

This morning I got one of those "grandpa is in the hospital" calls from my uncle. I used to go to pieces about them. I will not anymore.

There's a recurring dream about my grandfather's funeral that I've had since I was six.

Wow.

This has been a most wonderful weekend. I'm pretty sure that I'm not crazy anymore. I now believe that I've been consumed with depression for so long that I didn't recognize it anymore. This is all changing, rapidly.

Thank you.

More Rock News

After a conversation last night, it appears that the timetable for the second band is moving up because they want dude to finish the record. Switching bass players mid-recording is a silly thing, for sure. This is good, because right now the overcasters are hitting terminal velocity.

Springtime is the word.

Beat Up

I must not be taking care of myself or something. This morning, I have that "jumped by ninjas" feeling. This used to be because of the booze. I hope that it's not an illness, but only overwork and dehydration hurting me.

I'm looking forward to this evening.

Unbelievable.

I passed a dog sled on the drive home. I ain't shittin' you. Dude was just cruising down the road with a team of big, strong Malamutes.

Shower update: we have water. It's definitely not hot, but it'll have to do.

I'm So Over This Sub-Zero Stuff

The superdrag (tm) is that the "hot" functionality of the shower no worky this morning.

It's Time for a Haircut (brought to you by the letter "D")

when I can feel the vast majority of my hair moving about during my "dancing with myself" episodes. This is the longest that I've tolerated the hair since that post office sidewalk head shaving incident back in the day. Tony and I used to be masters of skullduggery. Oddly, it was legal skullduggery. I think that's when I finally started straightening up.

I need to call that guy. Very few people can complete my sentences. Really a dear old friend. Kaptain K sez that we're clones. That's hilarious.

Best Tony quote, ever:

"Send the droids back to the land speeder, man. They don't serve our kind at Denny's."

I'm feeling better than I have in more than a decade. Fingers crossed. I want this to stick.

Weird and Wonderful

Remarkable.

I'll have to blame Tom Murphy, again.

fuck that, man (parenthetical infestation)

the new features ain't worth the reconfiguration of the dns and cname record. i want instant gratification, damnit!! so, i'm not going to get instant layout changes (sans html) or access control (sans linux). oh well...I can deal with it.

i do reqire a more simplified [and cutetech (tm) friendly] layout, though. this three column float thing isn't long for this world. non-goofle (beautiful typo) people need to hook me up with their clients. pulpfaction attempted a conversion, and she was horrified, if I recall correctly.

That bitch totally fucked with me on the tele tonight. You suck, Rachel. That was really mean (mean people suck, if you believe the bumper stickers). So fuckin' good. One of the meanest women ever (and probably the worst GF ever--buy dude some beer), but I love you for it. Creativity rockees (tm)!

blogging, is it working?

i think that the switch-over actually worked too well (i can't tell the difference yet). wtf is with the internets being painless?

apparently, i now have that evil verification shit to do for each post. that'll cut down on drunk posting, won't it?

if this shit goes berserk

it's totally google's fault. i'm trying something new to get the new features. i'll be back in a terminator sort of way (to save you from the t-1000--that was a horrible date movie).

Marathon

I totally almost got into an accident today during a FM radio sing along to this one. It's good to keep your eyes open while you drive. Music is an eye-closer, really (like kissing). Rutsy wasn't a horrible drummer, but this was their first record, which has a bunch of zep rips, so it's a little painful. I can't even begin to hit some of the vocal notes. P-basses rule, my friends. The dude in the song doesn't even know what real work is--try getting up at four, at work at five, twelve hours of actual real labor, home at seven, sucking down a bunch of chill out pills and doing it again. And I manage a rock project and stuff?!?

I thought that I had tomorrow off from the mighty (or evil) work-o-rama. However, unfortunately for me, a dumb ass put a truck into a ditch this afternoon (no show shenanigans tonight). Tomorrow will be day 11 of the current marathon (I ought to keep track of my hours, just to acknowledge to myself the indentured servitude). I require some performance-enhancing drugs (weed), or something. I'm feeling pretty good, actually (except for being bruised, abraded, lacerated and sore). I think that I know how I'm able to keep up this pace, and it totally has to do with George Thorogood. Rock and other stuff is keeping me afloat. Who'd have thunk?

There's so much more, but my lackadaisical (can't believe that I spelled that one right) computer use is feeling really good, and I'm way fuckin' tired.

You'd think that it could be something better for today

Your hunches about people are quite accurate. Feel free to follow any gut feelings when asked prying questions by people you barely know. A casual afternoon get-together is not an excuse to get too personal.

I Got A Chuckle Out of This

Digging Karma?

I pulled a little old lady's Volvo 240 wagon out of a snow bank/drift. There was digging involved also (yay! digging!). She attempted to give me some money. I told her that I couldn't accept her money because I "needed digging karma" after the rolling incident on Saturday. It made me feel like I'd done something worthwhile.

(Actually, it turns out that the mighty Kenworth was actually being propped up by a huge drift. The truck was laying on its side, so i think that it counts. There was lots of digging and technical chain pulling involved in that extrication. We totally got the full pull, eventually, y'all)

I could only get away with actually saying such nonsense in Boulder County.

Cinematic, Man

It could have gone horribly wrong:

I'm watching cartoons in a motel room with two little girls (with tattooed faces). It seemed a lot like one of my rooms in Alexandria, Louisiana (a horrible place), but I'm not sure about that. Apparently I'm baby-sitting them (gasp) until their mother returns.

I hear automatic weapons fire outside. I peek out the window to see many men with guns. They are wearing red turbans. I think to myself that the shit is finally hitting the fan, man.

Then...quick cuts as I pick both kids up and hide in the bathroom (no closets in the motel room). I keep the door slightly ajar so that I can see wtf is going on. The mother arrives, with crazed gunmen on her heels. I don't recognize her. They shoot her in the back of the head.

11:30 and it was all wrong

Tito caught me off guard. Someone requires a haircut in a bad way. This is the face that's irresistible to men?!? The Tavern is looking mighty festive in this one.

More Video Madness, Kids

Leave it to the French to undertake something like this. Floyd fans out there (I know who you are) will dig this. Thanks, Toby. You rock. Weed.

PINK FLOYD ATOM HEART MOTHER

Burning 'Space Junk' Lights Up the Sky

A shock to the system on the ride into the work-o-rama here. They said that it was a meteor, but it looked like something breaking up to me. it was marvelous.

Real Collaborative, Man

At least it felt that way to me tonight. There was guitar noodling and rhythm section zone-outs (we're playing together pretty well), and it felt and sounded, well, pretty. Almost too pretty. It was post-4AD weirdness. The band is into it, but I can't imagine that an audience will be. That's never stopped projects before, though [here and here, for example (I need to dig up some of those old tapes from the shoegaze band circa 1990)]. If you beat 'em over the head long enough, and tell 'em that they like it, eventually, you wind up with crazed fanatics. I'm probably all wrong.

It feels good to create something beautiful.