| Rude Awakening |
[10 Jul 2006|08:58pm] |
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I was woken up this morning by a cat jumping on me. Mind you, we don't have a cat. This long black-haired fellow just decided to leap through my window onto my chest at about 9am, thus greatly surprising and confusing me. After said leaping, he was quite determined to hang out, maybe watch some cartoons, but I made it clear to him that he was going back out the window so I could continue to sleep. The nerve.
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[08 Jul 2006|05:56pm] |
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Someone should do sunny time things with me. That is all.
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| Down with Recycling! |
[24 Jun 2006|01:24pm] |
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Not really, actually. I don't know how many of you people have heard the arguments saying that recycling is actually more harmful than not recycling, but I found this article to be a very convincing rebuttal and a pretty interesting read.
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| The Glory of The Mountain Goats |
[10 Jun 2006|12:09pm] |
I'm getting old and boring. Whenever I go to shows anymore I find myself wishing the set would just end already so I can sit down and rest my weary bones. It doesn't help that I still insist on wearing the trusty chucks with no padding whatsoever, or that my attention span is such that I'll space out thinking about something else entirely until I realize two songs have gone by unappreciated. Still, I never give in and leave early; that would mean missing part of the show. I just wish they'd end a bit sooner, maybe play 3 of my favorite songs and then ditch out.
I did not feel any of these things even once during The Mountain Goats set. John Darnielle is this amazing presence of infectuous energy, the kind that sticks with you like some kind of super HIV that's transmittable through soundwaves and ridiculous shakes of the head with a smile as wide open as when you go to the orthodontist and put those plastic things in your mouth and photograph your teeth. You know, that kind of fucking STI (sonically transmitted infection). Even this man's banter alone is worth the price of admission. This man broke a string after either the first or second song and proceeded to regale us for a good five minutes about this boxer Pinklon Thomas (whose name was emblazoned upon Mssr. Darnielle's shirt) who he described as having "...a jab that hits you like an 800 pound mosquito." This was all complete with sound effects and delivered with manical glee as if he'd been waiting all tour for someone to ask him about his shirt so he could rave about this ex-con boxer he loved so much.
You have not lived until you've seen John Darnielle belt "Aha listen to the engine whine!" This is where the crazy wide smile and head shaking comes in and you start to think a little demon is going to leap out of his throat revealing that John is in fact genuinely a minion of Satan, and later when he tells you to "Hail Satan!" you hail him without hesitation for he has brought you the powerful music of The Mountain Goats somehow delivered by nothing more than an acoustic and bass guitar and a kind of nasally voice.
Suffice it to say, this show has renewed my faith in being able to wholeheartedly enjoy a rock show, and maybe I'm not getting old, but these indie bands think being indie means not to rock or they have gotten too lost in their melodies and brooding and whining to remember how, but oh how they are wrong and/or missing out. That is all.
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| It's Sex-mas! |
[22 Nov 2005|10:45pm] |
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The ultimate roommate combination is about to come to fruition. Jake is moving in with Kat and me. You know what this means, three-ways, every day, all the way, baby! I mean, I can hardly go a minute without finding some reason to mount Jake, and once Kat gets a glimpse of the forbidden straight boy on straight boy action, you know she can't resist joining in. Bacchus will be proud!
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[17 Oct 2005|03:26pm] |
I'm going to see The Birds tonight for free, possibly with a very cute and fascinating girl. Tippi Hedren will be there, I presume to tell us all how awesome it is to work with Hitchcock, or maybe to completely destroy my idolized perception of the man. Either way, it's bound to be interesting. I haven't seen the birds since I was in elementary school, so all I remember is that it's creepy as all hell. Hopefully it'll still manage to be creepy to my adult mind. Wait a second, I can't believe I just called my mind adult. I'm really only adult in body. I'm still just a stupid kid inside wishing he was out playing kick the can in the cul-de-sac. Sigh. Why is it I have so much trouble telling if people are interested in me when I really connect with them? It's so much easier to tell if someone just wants to sleep with me.
Also, I've been doing this one level of The Chronicles of Riddick so many times. I wish I had a firearm. This game is still great though.
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[15 Oct 2005|11:36am] |
For those of you not on myspace:
I'm going to be making a photo comic sometime in the nearish future and am trying to gauge you people's interest in posing for said comic. The shooting would take place entirely within Seattle for I am a lazy bastard and this is the most central location to everyone I know. So drop a comment or something if you think you'd be willing to participate. No committments necessary. And I swear I'll finish this one this time. Hell, I wanted to finish the old one, but everyone looks too different now.
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| Damn you LJ! |
[14 Oct 2005|02:39pm] |
So somehow my long ass post about a drunken asshole got lost in the ether, so I'll summarize here. Was at Beth's a few nights ago. Drunk guy with a molestache draws on my shit. I tell him that's not cool. He babbles and babbles and won't leave us alone the whole time we're there. Before leaving, we drop a note saying "Shut the fuck up!" at his place setting while he's gone. We leave.
Now it's two nights later and I'm at a bar and who should be there but Molestache himself, towing a grudge behind him. He tells me he remembers me telling him to "Fuck off!". I can't let that stand, so I correct him and mention I actually said (or wrote), "Shut the fuck up!" He pushes me. The bartender tells him to knock it off. I feel forced into acting friendly to yon drunk asshole in order to continue my night without incident. I have to shake hands and tell him "We're cool" about 5 times. He gives me evil looks the rest of the night, but thankfully leaves me the fuck alone.
Then a ninja came by and bought me a gin and tonic.
Good times.
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[03 Sep 2005|02:23am] |
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I need someone to photograph my armpit.
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[03 Sep 2005|02:10am] |
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Wired, tired, or twired even, sleep eludes. Shoulder sends shocks of pain intermittently. Guard shack, at least, very quiet. Computer tower dead. Laptop functional. In need of something to do. Guard shack no longer quiet. Fist shaking. Boredom creeping. Inspiration lacking. Mood still alright though. Life pretty good. Only current situation annoying. Camera repaired. Babble continues. Shoulder now just aching. Machines scheduled to begin pounding tomorrow night. Thoughts of finding earplugs. Thoughts of instead contributing to pounding. Skin buzzing. TV remote discovered, enjoyed. JSA enjoyed, returned. Chan Wook Park discovered, appreciated. New Orleans discussed, laughed about. New Orleans discussed, mourned. Coffee drank. Starbucks mocha valencia discovered, savoured. Arrived home, sat within. Internet browsed, lamented. Livejournal updated, filled with nonsense.
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| Always with the Machines |
[25 Aug 2005|03:12am] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
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music |
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not shitty hardcore rock (this time) |
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They've started running the machines upstairs at night again. I forget exactly what it is they make up there. Something that requires intense and regular pounding, it would seem. Could be anything. I've learned you can't make much of anything, especially babies, without intense and regular pounding these days. All I can remember is the company's name, Tango, gives no clue to the product.
This is making it very hard to sleep. Nevermind the sounds of late night TV reverberating across the alley from the guard shack. Still, it's a refreshing change from the usual hardcore or classic rock that blares through my window. I still haven't decided whether the bloody awful heat or the noise is the lesser of the evils, but I default to leaving the window open, as I originally had only the fiery air to deal with before they hired the new guard. And I do so hate change.
Anyway, I finally gave up and popped some prescription painkillers, just hoping the sedation would make me forget the noise, the caffeine, and the tickling at the back of my throat that I just realized indicates an oncoming cold and not excessive smoking as I had originally thought. Time to buy more zinc.
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| A Humument |
[19 Aug 2005|01:33pm] |
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I just found this through Neil Gaiman's blog, and I think it's the greatest thing since sliced bread, and all 370 odd pages are freely viewable. Sure, this little art project is not new, but I figure many of you have not heard of this, as I hadn't.
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| Shady free IHOP food. |
[09 Aug 2005|06:51am] |
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mood |
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 sick |
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music |
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The White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan |
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It feels like there's still vomit clinging on for dear life in my sinuses somewhere.
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| Further Tattooing |
[31 Jul 2005|05:24pm] |
I'm now done with one third of the panels. Unfortunately the painful ones remain.
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[30 Jul 2005|04:45pm] |
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[28 Jul 2005|11:47am] |
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Am I turning unhealthily Joe-like by wanting this helmet?
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| Tired. |
[10 Jun 2005|04:10pm] |
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I just spent all of the day so far riding buses and walking with a bag full of way too many heavy library books. The good news? Today is my last day of work, and it's been confirmed I shall be being paid 80% of my salary until I am "better" or after 3 months, it becomes 60%. Boohoo!
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| Ridicularity! |
[09 Jun 2005|01:29pm] |
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Ha! Now Boeing is trying to pay me to not work for them. I can't believe this shit.
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