i jogged over two miles today. i haven't done that since the army.
i am shocked, i am ecstatic, and i am a little nauseous*.
i used to feel like a sickly maggot. like i would never even get to be a fly.
right now i feel like the fly swatter.
still, i do anticipate some soreness tomorrow.
*feeling nauseous from running is way, way cooler than feeling nauseous from drinking too much irish whiskey. if this weekend has taught me anything, it is that. and also that E has a spectacular smile.
i'm gonna be 31 this year.
it's not the number that gets me, it's the history in those years. i've realized recently that music is and will always be the one thing i'll always love, but like most loves will constantly snub me. i play my guitar a lot, but i'm really bad at it. i write songs constantly, but they mostly suck, and i sing all the damn time, but again, no one really wants to hear it.
at the lucero show the other night, reveling in the joy of yet another great band playing in a tiny little bar, i was struck by the scene there. i grew up in a very tight-knit scene myself, but the difference between Hardcore in the late 80's early 90's and indie rock today is like apples and oranges. hell, even hardcore is a different beast all these years later. and the truth is, it's supposed to be. any scene has to grow, fluctuate, and live or die by its supporters. around here back then it was easy, we had a place to go. City Gardens was the life's breath of hardcore and punk. After that hallowed hall went the way of the dodo, the scene took a deep gasping breath and either went back to VFW and Fire Halls or crept slowly away back to philly, north jersey, and NYC.
NJHC in Trenton was on a respirator. In fact, hardcore in general seemed to lose it's identity. Punk was far more susceptible to the wiles of pop mutation so hardcore just sort of simmered until the nu-metal craze opened it's jaws and made anything that sounded loud, angry, strong and defiant the way to go. I've talked to some of the new breed of hardcore kids. I don't relate to them in any way. They would laugh at what was considered hardcore back then, it's nowhere near "HARD" enough. And I personally can't stand 99 percent of the music that is put out today. When a kid tells me that Drowning Pool or some other such band is hardcore, i want to choke the life out of him. When he brags about punching someone in a mosh pit that was "so fucking tough and out of control" I realize that somewhere along the way, most likely during the process of homogenization for the masses, someone missed the point. They took all the aggression, the somewhat violent nature, the crunch of the power chords and made it sound all very much like our music, but it doesn't have the spirit that made it worth while.
Before i sound too much like some holier-than-thou old bastard, lemme say that I know there are still kids out there doing it. Holding shows in their basements, playing Killing Time covers with their friends in a garage. Driving three hours to see a show and beg for interviews for their 'zine. I know that all still goes on. At least, i pray it does. In my heart I know that the time I grew up in will never come again. It can't, because it was only there for me, for exactly that. For me to grow up in. I just hope that the kids who still feel that love, who know that it is a Scene, not a place to be seen, can keep the spirit alive, even if it is just a flicker of the flame i knew.
i really could use a dose of something though. like an AF, SOIA, Burn, and Vision show. somebody set that shit up, ok?
ok. i've been sick all week. if you know me, you know what that means. rotten bastard is back. the fever i had tuesday night led me to believe that either it was going to be over soon because i am an expert fever breaker or because i was about to die. the former happened, but i am dealing with the lingering effects of congestion and a cough. i hate everyone when i am sick. i hate you if you're well because i am jealous. i hate you if you're sick like me because i don't give a shit. if you're happy and in a good mood, i really hate you because i usually am, but the invading sickness has rendered me physically incapable of being happy and casting a harsh light on my crusade of positivity. revealed as a charlatan by a microscopic chain of protein.
but tomorrow is a new day. and then monday is a holiday. ambivalence sets in. eyes glaze over for the faithful readers who know all too well what monday means. due to the fact that i've spent most of my time in bed this week, i've had some time to think. i came up with the fact that only twice in 30 years have i been with someone on St. Valentine's famous day. my perseverant undesirability coupled with (fortuitous?) timing conspired to render me single on this "special" day for the rest of my life. i celebrated less than ten percent of the time. actually, less even than i should have since one of the two years i was dating someone she was overseas the first couple of weeks in february. so one time in my life i was dating someone when it happened to be v-day and we actually celebrated.
it was high school. ha ha ha. i think i got her a bouquet of flowers and a Dr. Seuss book. She gave me a box of Crayola Crayons and some vigorous heavy petting. the end.
i'm not one of those people who bitterly despise Valentine's Day, by the way. In fact, i don't really care about it one way or the other. i suppose that as a thinking person who tends to view the world with what i hope is a waning cynicism i see that it's another day that has been marketed to the gills. it seems like we don't believe in anything if it hasn't been sold to us. that's sad. truth is, when i am with someone, i am very into doing special things for that person. i suffer from a bit of a weak self-image and i compensate by being a giver. when i am with someone i tend to think they are gonna figure out that i don't deserve them and then hastily leave me. history has typically vindicated me on this point. but this isn't to say i am desperate and will date just anyone. truth is i have a fairly high standard and if i am interested in you, you will know it from me in word and deed. i am a man, perhaps one of the few who still hold the ideal of love fairly sacred. i know how unrealistic that is, but even that knowledge helps to feed my quixotic faith. but getting back to my point, i don't need a special day set aside every year to remind me what it means to love, or how lucky everyone who has love is. on the flip side, in our time, this consumer culture is designed to provide the maximum profit on any investment, so the people who market Valentine's Day know that by selling their wares, and the distribution of those wares, regardless how the lonely, sad, bitter, or disillusioned masses feel about it, they are actually doing someone good in the world. Although profit motive is callous, the fact is there is probably more pure love and appreciation in this country on days like Valentine's Day, Christmas, Easter, and so fourth then on just about every other day of the year. And regardless of how it got out there, that is a good thing.
For my own bit of the world, well... it's been long enough since i've kissed someone that i've now entirely forgotten what she tasted like. I have vague memories of the curve of our bodies asleep beside one another. I still remember her smile quite well, and the sting it creates when i couple it with why we are not together. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was wrong and was just afraid. Maybe the truth is even uglier than what came out. Or maybe we just were not meant to be. It doesn't put a single scratch or dent in my faith. I have never attached regret to love, and i can't think of a single reason to start now.
For everyone else out there, i wish you all the best in dealing with monday, whether you celebrate with gifts and kissing and making love, or by ignoring the whole Hallmark mess and getting drunk with friends, or maybe just by sitting at home, quietly re-reading someone's journal and wondering if they are sincere when they profess such a foolish faith in love.
if you are, we are, i am
cruel in your casual nature
scalding with careless indifference
i'm targeted, then
i was a cautionary tale, now
there is evidence of a bigger picture
shaped with events i have not witnessed
colored with crayons i have never sharpened
and the banking sides of the day rise
up to meet my vision
rounding out the staggeringly obvious tunnel
i am on the other side
i am in the center of my universal mind
it's all about me
hopeless in my casual nature
scalded by careless indifference
running when ever there is no road
flying where ever there is no air
and always giving when there is no one to receive
with all the evidence of a bigger picture
can i ever be anything other than the photographer?
-manic 1/29/05
so i'm working on some new things. and revisiting some old things. words. images. sounds.
i've decided that i am not at all happy with my body. even though I have made some strides lately towards a new level of fitness, it's painfully obvious that i have not achieved any of the goals i outlined for myself last year. with the possibility of it affecting what could turn out to be a good career, i must redouble my efforts in this area. plus i just don't like how i look or feel. if i felt better then i am sure i could at least come to terms with how i look, but right now i'm just disgusted with myself.
with the exception of the new piece, which i am very, very happy with. time to start working with that chance now.
i'm writing a bit more. working on the story for mine and frank's movie. right now just the outline, after that the screenplay should write itself. it's exciting to think of how we will conquer each problem that will arise. it feels good to be creating again.
i wonder sometimes if i should be happy with what i have, and try and build on it (i.e. - work on my writing because that seems like something i am more pre-disposed to do) or work a ton harder on something that i love more than anything yet seemingly have no aptitude for (music). does acceptance always mean complacency? is it just giving up or is it accepting reality? and finally, is it my fantasies that keep my heart young, or is my youthful nature just going to be my last fantasy to die?
not different from everything else, just different from what i am.
pre-conceived notions, and all that jazz.
we get, for instance, mental pictures of a voice.
hopes for the kind of person that lurks behind that livejournal.
what their bodies are like.
what their faces are like.
anyone care what their souls are like?
i do once i get to know them.
i am completely ready to devour.
where is my plate, my fork, the sunlight through the window, glass of apple/orange/pineapple juice, morning paper. i am ready to devour life. show me your soul for once.
because i am something different from what you think
and i am capable of more love than you've ever known
Post Script - Apparently I am also quite valuable.
I am worth $2,241,310.00 on HumanForSale.com
Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction. Saddam Hussein had no terrorist links or involvement in the September 11 terror attack. US casualties (dead and wounded) now stand at 10 percent of the US invasion force. A few thousand lightly armed insurgents have tied down eight US divisions. Iraq's infrastructure lies in ruins. Fallujah, once a city of 300,000, has been destroyed. The US has lost control of the roads, and most of the US fighting force is confined to protecting supply lines and its own bases. The US military is cracking under the strain of prolonged service in the field. The cost of the war mounts, putting more pressure on a collapsing US dollar. The US occupation has recruited thousands of new terrorists for Osama bin Laden and provided a training ground. Torture and torture memos have destroyed America's moral reputation. Civil war looms as neither Sunnis, Shiites, nor Kurds are willing to support a government they do not control. Anti-American feelings throughout the Middle East threaten to undermine the secular puppets that the US keeps afloat in Pakistan, Egypt and Jordan. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
"Think of the depressing contrast between the radiant intelligence of a healthy child and the feeble intellectual powers of the average adult. Can we be quite certain that it is not precisely religious education which bears a large share of the blame for this relative atrophy?" -- Freud
I wish a healthy, happy, and prosperous New Year to all my friends.
I wish my dog could finally heal and find a food he's not allergic to.
I wish my mother luck in getting a buy-out at work so she can retire.
I wish my sister and my new brother-in-law the best of luck in trying to conceive their first child this year.
I wish that I can finally make progress in making a life for myself.
I wish the best of luck to all the men and women in the armed forces that they may get back to their families and friends safely, and that they may find peace upon their return from the horrors they have endured.
I wish everyone who feels alone can find someone who fills their heart with joy.
I wish the our country would evolve a little more and end its horrific persecution of people who are different.
I wish the President suffers a sudden, stunning moment of clarity where all the pain and suffering he has caused will suddenly become apparent to him.
I wish the people who support the President and his ideologies luck in explaining to their God how fear and hatred ruled their lives.
I wish dogmatic thinking would start to die out.
I wish that the Gods of various religions will speak directly to their disciples and reiterate to them, in no uncertain terms, that killing is wrong.
I wish people would learn to appreciate the beauty and wonder all around us.
I wish everyone on the planet, even those who are not my friends, the same healthy, happy, and prosperous new year.
*******************************************************
"Why don't you wish in one hand, and shit in the other. See which one fills up first."
Hope springs eternal, Happy New Year.
