the sunken treasure

If you scare your self half to death twice, would you still be alive?

2009-02-17T12:04:00.000-08:00

Please note;
That title there, it is not mine. I did not make it up. Though, I sure do wish I did, and This Resurgence, Re-visitation, Return, it does not mean anything. Maybe all this is explained by the following comment:

I have this overwhelming urge to apologize to all, alive or deceased.

2008-11-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

warning

2008-11-04T07:24:00.001-08:00

so. i absolutely cannot wait for tomorrow. for a lot of reasons. and im no optimist,

not because i was laid off last thursday and will be entering yet another manufacturing plant in this region making it my third in the last year and two months, all in some blued attempt (ill leave that for you to interpret, "blued attempt") at being converted from temporary employee with little to no benefits to permanent union, etc, etc, blah. three plants, over a year, sometimes not having a day off for four months at a time. sure, it doesnt make sense. nothing does really. but my agenda is full and i now do whatever i am supposed to do, or try to at least. so vague. right? sure.

no, im not anticipating november 5, 2008 because of that.

nor am i looking forward to tomorrow like i used to. the down-trodden (if thats the right hyphenated word(s) to use), bleak attitude that sustained me for so many years. tomorrow used to be about one day closer to, well, the end. not anymore. but happiness isnt sexy, you know. its annoying. this disturbing mental state, its over-rated. i like content. im very content. with a whole bunch of anger somewhere. anyway.

dan rather was just thinking on the television. not talking. thinking.

tomorrow, november 5, 2008. its a big day, man. huge. and the best part,
-no more commercials telling me:

mccain is a shorter version of bush
obama plays with racists and terrorists
mccain is another bush
obama is a terrorist
mccain and his so-called tax breaks
obama and his so-called tax-and-spend
mccain and iraq (come to think of, they quit talking about the war so much...hm)

election years are terrible. absolutely terrible. and i have yet to find someone who will convince me that all this matters. that a single voice matters. that a vote matters. that someone whos been laid off three times in one year, makes at or near the poverty line for a family of three, that isnt a plumber, that owes more money than theyll ever make, thats hasnt relied on the government for help, doesnt want to rely on anyone for help...eh, forget it. im angry today. and tired.

stop by and say hi!

writing without conjunctions is hard

2008-05-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

william faulkner worked 6p to 6a as a 'coal passer' in a power plant where he wrote As I Lay Dying in six weeks and four out of the last five presidents were left-handed and dali says you should not fear perfection for you will never attain it;

i came across, and reluctantly browsed, a yahoo! news article about the 2008 presidential candidates and the meaning of their signatures. apparently, all three are strong in ego and ambition (good to know). a couple may or may not have pride in their respective families/culture (sad), and they are all real smart. this is scientific evidence. maybe. i must use this analysis. it could mean something. it has to. maybe this was the tie-breaker i was searching for, if i am allowed to vote. i would suggest to all to do this...but, since there is an audience willing to receive such information when choosing the best possible individual to lead this country into even more strife, despair (yes, i said despair - look around, you will find it) that currently plagues this era, my suggestion is not necessary.

i still think the one that can win a triple threat steel cage lumberjack wrestling match with no disqualifications (no dq) is the best way to choose a 'leader'. any leader really. there would be no need to vote, no campaigning with all that dirty mud flying around (i should add a reminder that voting does not matter, does not count because, if it did, al gore would have saved the world as president rather than win oscars for a documentary about our dying planet - he did win one, right? - also, note that in no way whatsoever will i endorse al gore for president). moving on. by the way, he sure looked righteous with the beard.

a legend, if you would like, for the match and stipulations i have stated above:
- triple threat means three opponents (but you deduced that already, i am sure), no teams, the winner is the one who gets the pin (does not matter who pins who - or is it whom? i should sleep soon)
- steel cage is just that, ten foot-plus walls surrounding the ring; traditionally, one could win this match by a pin or by climbing over the top of the cage, spiderman-ing it down the other side allowing the feet-touching-the-ground victory; sadly, for the participants, this will not be allowed
- lumberjack is tricky here as this is where outside the ring on the floor a very large number of men and/or women accumulate and wait to throw the contestant back in to the ring if said contestant tries to make a run for it. the trick in this situation is, you may be asking, 'are they not already in a cage from which they cannot escape?' the answer is 'yes, lab partner, they are in a cage, but...there is a door (to the cage) and it is not locked.' the lumberjacks attendance assures such a cowardly exit to the contest in such a political (pun) way will not occur; a large number of lumberjacks installed in this fashion is merely for effect, show, excitement; let me be entertained for this is why i came

-no dq means just that, no rules; this is a gift to the contestants and weapons are cool

this proposition is ridiculous and riddled with trailer-park-natty-ice humor and certainly i am not the first to birth such an inspiration. but the metaphor is solid. to me anyway. the cage represents no easy win, no cut-and-run while encouraging shock-and-awe, heart, commitment. they would be/should be fighting for you, no? the lumberjacks exist as, in reality, accountability does not. and no dq is there simply as an olive branch to the candidates. who does not like to 'break the rules'? politics.

whew. test. number one is done. i think.
an all my love and a goodnight.

where have i gone?

2008-05-17T21:46:00.000-07:00

i think i may be trying to transition this blog, blog is some word...from purely personal and vain to mostly opinionated.

i have had a few, so bear with me (how did a bear ever get associated with patience?).

personally, though, it should be noted, examined, i am exhausted in every consonant of that word.

seems i have taken to reading way too much about this political thing going on. as well: the economy and everything that is taxing (pun) every one. and now i want to write about it and feel, when i do have enough empirical data and ridiculously over-punctuated views because that is why blogs were invented, that now i am ready - it is a good time. maybe.

me thinking i am important enough that some one wants read what i think about global warming and current weather phenomena, nascar, the war in iraq and afghanistan, mixed martial arts, companies like the one i work for, steroids in baseball, "going green", wrestling as a sports entertainment vehicle, conflicts with iran, north korea (and, eventually, russia and china - of which certainly a great amount of attention must be paid today), gasoline/oil, israel/palestine, the problem with professional basketball, why soccer sucks, the cost of the egg, microsoft getting slapped, commercial planes flying even after failing federal safety audits, the domestic "war" on terror fleecing civil liberties, men having sex in the bathroom during their lunch break and getting caught but not stopping, history happening again and today is nothing new accept for decreases in accountability and respect, how my vote does not count and will not ever matter, the cycle that is the music industry, the most innovative films to date, why classic literature is called "classic", why the pope is terrifying, and, though not lastly, why legacy matters.

but this direction is needed. for me. in all my years, i have finally reached a conclusion that i cannot stop thinking. this has no direct impact on my actions for those alone only teach me as i grow older through victories and defeats. apathetic as i have tried to be, i have realized that i was merely running out of fear...someone said, i am sure, but even if they did not, then i am saying it now, life is a search full of questions and i am given the tools to seek answers, regardless their potency or truth - if it is true to me then that is all it is, meaning what is true to me may not be the same for you. and that is ok. just fine. i would not want it any other way.

all my love.

2008-02-10T03:29:00.000-08:00

The Cold War, or Oil and Water

fomr Cherry Bleeds June 2007

2007-11-23T06:57:00.001-08:00

search me

2007-11-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

so i google myself often. been doing it since 04, to see some stuff and to know what others would see ever since i got all paranoid after reading news stories about potential employers searching prospective employees online...and that other thing that happened ('member, im crazy!?!).

so, something new has caught my eye.

there is a retired shipman living with his life partner and three cats in tennessee penning poems and small fiction that have been published. his name is my name. coincidentally, we have both been "copywriting" under our names. though i tend to use the longer version of my first name. anyway. should i clarify? no.

but i will.

i dont think i would ever describe a room or anything else, for that matter, as "oozing" unless it was a terrible wound (and even then i would scour a thesaurus in search of something more ridiculous sounding).
also,
i am not a retired shipman. i do not live in tenessee (though eastern tennessee has a terrific smile). and i do not have three cats.
also,
ive frequently thought i may have been related to earnest hemingway because i am balding rapidly. after swooning, i realize i do not like guns and this cannot be so. however, i am now of sound mind and body that i would not write an untrue piece surrounded by the OOZING aura of a dead literary giant nor shall i use said giants name in a title (pun).

side bar, counselor:
i dont think that made any sense.

now, go google yourself and tell me what happens. and where would i be without google anyway? ill tell you. id be back at stupid old yahoo. wait, i still go there. nevermind.

i am going to show this new discovery to my life partner. she will love it.

and - as if youre on pins and needles, pining for an update as to my 'goings on', ill do all that later. dont tell no one though, but, i think, i think, i may be real close to something someone called happy. but i dont know.

i wrote this song after i killed a drifter to get an erection

2007-09-28T21:48:00.000-07:00

im tired. sick. and it feels like a houston winter in the basket.

in two months of my new residence, ive had a cold and the flu. the latter being everso present at this moment. truman is sick a lot. shannon as well.

ive noticed, in my newly formed 'friendships' here, that most are hell-bent on selling this place to me. not that i needed to be sold, but things are far from similar to my custom or culture or whatever, and, i make no hesitation in expressing my confusion. maybe they get offended? maybe. but they dont know where i come from and im in their home. so i suppose this transition to the remainder of my days is, well, more difficult than id like to admit. i miss houston, in an odd but romantic, and even sadistic, way. this is normal. and ill be alright. truman has a better shot at being a better man than i am here. i have a better shot at trying to recover from whatever it is that is killing me. my marriage has a better chance at surviving. i love wife and son and will do whatever it takes...

this tastes like rainbows.

i went to the moose after work for the first time this week. the moose is a lodge where you can eat and drink at seven in the morning. if youre not a member, you have to be accompanied by one. it was fine until i vomitted, voilently, when i got home. i felt like food poisoning. didnt get any sleep and i still went to work that night. so, obviously, something has changed. who am i to work at a time when im not 100%? but ive often argued to myself that i am have never been 100%. and this has to happen. so i build engines in a fever waiting for the insurance to start. and im very proud of myself. for the first time in a long time. the basket has changed me.

i miss rob and tuesdays at tks though im told you cant smoke cigarettes inside there anymore. i may even miss mike a little but i dont think about it anymore or try not to. sure ive made a mistake where he and i stand, i just dont know whats worth it anymore. eh.

i should go.

the bread basket at 420a, pun

2007-09-23T01:21:00.000-07:00

so. where am i....

ive been here, this basket that im told isnt really the bread basket but simply the midwest, for almost two months. so much as happened and weve got a lot to get to so let us begin, review, analyze (for your pleasure, and it might take a small amount of hubris on your part as im a tad drunk as it is my day off and ive pabst was on sale, i will not edit this):

the trip from houston to here.
i think it was august 4th when we loaded the truck and headed to what was the first stop on our, my wife, son, and self, trek to our new home. that stop was long beach, mississippi. if you remember hurricane katrina (and why wouldnt you?), this is the OTHER part of total devastation that storm left behind (it didnt just hit new orleans!!!). my sister and her family lives there. to inform, we decided to TRY and make the trip a sort of vacation and i will expund on this later. so the fourth day of the hottest month of the year, some people came, got our stuff, truman got mad, we loaded up and said goodbye to my home. our home. we arrived at my sisters around 10p, talked and crashed....exhausted. i did get some nice gifts for my birthday from her, a nice retro johnny cash tee and and the ever-lovely new wilco disc that came with a live dvd.

the next day we said goodbye and headed to meridian, mississippi to visit my grandpa and aunt (the first time since grandma passed). not twenty miles from their house, the truck decided it was too hot and blew a pretty hole in the radiator. sensing our VACATION was over, we began to make alternate plans. those plans included us renting a car, driving shannon and the truman the rest of the way, driving back to meridian to get the truck, and driving back to our final destination. all in all it took about a week, way too much money, and about 2000 plus miles.

new beginnings (?):
once the foiled VACATION was over and the truck fixed, i sat. some days with truman (he hadnt started school and shannon was already working), some days reading (ive read five books since ive been here), some days looking for musical bands to play to play musical instruments with, some days depressed, everyday finding work. i have found a band and a job and maybe the two dont mix anymore. and every one here looks at me funny. im in another country if you ask me.

this place,
there are, i would estimate, 20,000 people in this city. and small city so its more like a town to me if i gauge it to houston. there really isnt much to do. one liquor store bought every other liquor store to become the only liquor store in town. you cannot buy booze on sunday. you cannot buy cold six packs in any store other than the liuquor store. you can buy whatever liquor you want at a drug store, though. people drive terribly. i know, where i come from, you drive as if youre going to get run over. here they either drive too slow or too fast. ive been flipped off once, but i think i deserve that. there are no whataburgers or jack in the boxes. there is no lone star or pearl. the restaurants im afraid of and the two music instruments shops in town dont really cater to drummers. theres one pawn shop, and shit load of meth-induced smiles and eyes. more on this place should accompany the paragraph entitled 'this job'.

this music,
there is none. wait, thats wrong. theres music. and the guys ive found to play with are stellar. but no one listens to what i listen to. and no one has even heard of what i mentioned (though it should be noted that i NEVER volunteer information unless asked and even then i keep to the bare minimum with enough bullshit to make them wonder, and boy do they wonder). could it be ive been spoiled? i never looked at houston that way, spoiling me. i always thought it sucked when someone didnt play there. but, no one plays here. NO ONE. not anyone i would want to see. not that i would go. anyway. im in a band, kind of. it is called EARL, kind of. its rootsy rock (i guess), kind of. not that id find the requisite mogwai/wilco lover that i search for....

this job,
ive been working, THANK GOD, for about a week now. third shift, building engines. i stand in a line all night putting pistons in to mostly small block turbo diesel engines for biggo trucks. good stuff. a riot. me. building engines. im just so happy to be working. those i work with have seemed to warm to me and most nights are filled with questions, that whole getting-to-know-you thing. i like them. i like going to work. ill like it even more when they pay to go back to school. which is my plan.

anyway. im done for now. drunk and tired, my day off is almost over and...what the fuck ever. i shouldnt cuss that much.

books i read:
grant speaks (authors name i cant spell - fiction)
rant - palahniuk
the first man - camus
babylon by bus - (three authors i cant remember)
raise high the roofbeams, carpenters and seymour, and introduction - salinger

what im thouroughly enjoying musically:
commons new cd
wilcos sky blue blue sky
interpols new disc

last,
truman, ive decided, is growing way too fast. hes 17 months now. over 30 lbs. 3ft tall, i think. and getting stronger. he regularly beats the shit out of me and i constantly thank whomever for letting me experience the best thing thats ever happened to me. and we finally cut his har.

love.

oh my

2007-09-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

wow. its been some time.
dont live in texas anymore.
i live in a bread basket.
my son is huge and amazingly strong.
everything else is, well, blah blah blah.

2007-04-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

how much can you lose in two months?

2007-04-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

-a grandma who treated you like a son, loved unconditionally, your only source for compassion (dead)
-the father that loved you like is own little brother and saved you from arizona (not talking, blaming a person of which he knows nothing about, cop-out)
-the band you helped name, fill, write songs with, and play shows with (fired, theyd had 'enough' - so much for family)
-job (fired)
-wife (gone, home now, but for how long)
-son (with her, home now)
-hearing
-hair

nothing ever really matters

2007-04-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

we buried her on april 1st, so i wake up every day thinking ill get a call saying, 'just kidding, come over and say hello!' its not funny. but its true. she couldnt talk so id do all of that and we would stare at each others eyes and remember and know that she hung the moon for me. i had the honor of putting her in the ground. i saw the hole. i think every one else is gone - or are going their separate ways. i saw that happening before she died. and it has to be true because no one called on my sons first birthday. no one wrote a card. im ok with it, but he shouldnt have to bare any of that.

but he will. he is associated with me now. therefore, hes subject to unruly demands, like:
i wont change but you have to
youre an asshole
you treat every one like shit
etc, etc, etc

ive noticed people would rather point a digit than look inward. and thats fine. bury yourself. im no saint, never claimed to be. but i will not apologize for who i am and what i choose to do. if you dont, you have eyes and can see the door so i wont say where it is.

that brings me to something else. not just something but another thought. its not a thought, though, because it happened. people have left, lets review:
- band/music? fired, and theyre oh so happy
- marriage? none of your business, though all is well
- job? let go for being sick (i cant wait to die myself you know, because im obviously making this up)
- friends? i got one or two left, one in this city
- family? no comment (thanks pop)

so you would think i would be apologetic and try ever so to right the ships that have fallen recently. dating back to the Great Not-A-Heart-Attack October of 2006 (maybe even before that, who knows, i should ask as i know there those with their much valued opinion but they could save for when im not around, stings better that way, than to talk to someones face). seriously, go break up with your significant other in a text message right now. tell me you wouldnt feel liberated and relieved rather than face....wait, what? that never happened to me, but i would love to do it to someone. hahaha. fuck all.

so, i guess im in the angry stage? i am angry. heres why (if i had picks, id post them in homage to vonnegut, instead, i give you lists):
people, death, lies, my back (i cant see whats going on), shit jobs with no pay, "friends", this city, the weather, my hair, my skin...

stop, this will affect your son. i know. i wont let that happen. hell be better than me. my grandma told me as much. i cannot any more than i have. i grieve all day every day. i miss her terribly. shes gone, but others get the luxury to breathe another day. how thoughtful. the greatest woman ive ever known died the way she did (couldnt talk, eat, walk, hands were claws, couldnt sit still, that disease...but she still smiled and im certain she was smiling all the way until the end). i have nothing but memories and somehow thats not enough. i thought i was ready for this. we all did. turns out i was no where close to being ready.

so fuck everything else thats happened recently and fuck all its happened to. i dont care. its shit now, trust me. i cant wait to hear it though. i need a laugh. desperately.

the point is this. im happy with this life ive got. my son is one year(s) old (yesterday 4/15) and he is all that matters any more. him and leaving this putrid shit hole of 'such neediness and sadness and sorrow' (you find the meaning of the quotes because if i use my words, well, you dont want that) a city. clock is running.

tick

2007-03-30T19:24:00.000-07:00

my grandma, who was really my mom, died today.

10:oo am 3/30/07

im broken, finally

2007-03-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

there is a scent called 'nag champa'. its burning now like she is here. i love that smell.

more me

2007-03-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

shes gone
my son is gone too
swears shell return
i hope its tru

i hate talking about me, but lets do it anyway

2007-03-21T10:16:00.000-07:00

ive missed work. for doctors and hospitals and tests. ive seen maybe four doctors in one week, had a weird test (ENG) and have found out the following:

my balance issue - dont know
MRI - dont know, which is a good thing (im going to get a pic of it though, i want to frame my brain)
ENG - dont know
ENT (ear, nose, throat) doc - ears drums on both side are completely retracted (sucked in to the cavity with tubes, etc behind it) causing hearing loss (which could get worse). also, i may need tubes put back in. nice. left ear is infected.

side bar: in 1982 i had surgery on my left ear. i was told i had hole in my ear drum. there was no hole. i had a mastoidectomy. there was a cyst/tumor growing behind my ear at the base of my skull (which is een through the ear, i guess) and they took it out. i didnt know this until yesterday.

good to know, wouldnt you think?

and, the ENT doc says all this ear shit isnt the cause of my balance issue.

so one answers as to why i cannot remember any thing any more or stumble side to side from time to time like a sod.

my next post, i plan on elaborating the ENG. its very fucking interesting and weird. humorous and terrifying, yeah thats how ill call it.

you cannot trust anyone

2007-03-15T20:13:00.000-07:00

so.
i may have a vestibular disorder. nice.
it may be called 'Meniere's Disease'. even better.
it may require surgery. the hits keep coming.

i may never be able to play drums again.

but enough about me.
and,
lets review.

someone said they make music because they have to, i can see that though its amusing. i have always found composing/playing as a catharsis/therapy. i forget what catharsis means right now. but, if we take this theory of creating art as a need, then what do you do if its physically taken from you. its not a question.

decison, decided, done

2007-03-14T23:30:00.000-07:00

im happy in a sense. ive never been a happy person and thats fine with me. play with my friends a revel in the fact that youre no better than them; also cherish you stole from them.

im tired:

of idiots
of self
of me
of you
of metaphors

metaphors are created to hide truth. pieces of shit crawled under a rock and growing hair and not having a clue and will not listen to reality...
wait...
they didnt bring it either when it was needed on this side.

you cant even say goodbye.

Fact

2007-03-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

"The great American folk singer and composer Woody Guthrie died on October 3, 1967, after suffering from HD for 13 years. He had been misdiagnosed, considered an alcoholic, and shuttled in and out of mental institutions and hospitals for years before being properly diagnosed. His case, sadly, is not extraordinary, although the diagnosis can be made easily by experienced neurologists."

Source = Huntington's

The Cold War, Die Cow, Die I (draft)

2007-03-12T13:02:00.000-07:00

They met on the side of a road not knowing what to look for only having talked on the phone once or twice. They shook hands and talked about a certain car and one of them introduced the other to yet another man whom the guy did not know but thought he looked like girl. We made noises together and ten years passed.

In those years, the guy that looked and talked like a female left. More came and went. There was the one who had accomplished more than any of us. There was another who might have been a face in the industry. There was the brilliant and caring guy who built a tree. And there was the kid, who remained a kid. After all these men, after long drives, bright lights, cigarette smoke, and the stench of beer and burnt cigarettes, the bitter frost-bitten story of a cold heart starts here.

Now two men lay flat on an over-used surface gazing at the same blackness above wondering if it truly is a ceiling or can you go higher. Did anyone win? Who is Cain and who is Abel? Know these men are not related if only by words. Once the best of friends, sure, but not now. An army exists though it is only one man. The betrayer against the betrayed. An arsenal of electronic words. ‘Were going to die here, son.’ Pause. ‘Okay father, I am ready.’ Fucking Thermopylae. The one who stands alone here is the one loaded. The one who stands with others here is the one unarmed.

my love, or endless

2007-03-12T06:52:00.000-07:00

why cant i let this die? die you fucking over-weight, alcoholic, selfish, vain cow. for the lord of whomever, just die.

i reread conversations. but its not helping.
i have been erased. but its not helping.

this blog was meant as a column and it shall be. no over-used metaphorically-challenged poems that only i would get will appear. no poems period. theyre dead you know, poems. they died with bukowski and cummings and poe. and so the dead need to be laid to rest. what a minute, theyre already entombed. oh, but we will conjure up a spirit as such and lose originality all together. wont we? yes. i have proof.

then there is sanity. i swear to you, wherever i am at, whomever i am talking to, i have heard the phrase, "you know the definition of insanity is, right?" about 195952329563254648613 times in the last six months.

i always find what im looking for in my mind when i do this. but this is the last time. maybe. i dont know. i hope so. and, yes, i do know the definition of insanity.

i want to talk to you about the following things here at no cost to anyone but time:

music (bands, writing, playing, show and cd reviewing, instruments - local and abroad)
politics and politicians (state and national / foreign - note: my resume says i can. i have actually worked for politicians (the incumbent and the campaigner) who will remain nameless for the time being)
baseball (need i say more)
philosophy (especially Existentialism and the Absurd - im learning. we are a black hole)
books (what ever i feel like)

oh man, i adore agendas. im an idiot.

and to those who may be reading, i mean every word i say. and trust me, its not arrogance.

now, i will ask you one more time, die cow, die. im going to say this in my head and maybe out loud in public, 'die cow, die'. and im not even hungry.

what im reading now:
for esme with love and squalor - salinger
the first man - albert camus
a little of aristotle and kant as well

what im listening to right now:
everything

bye,
the better w

the st soundtrack 2.0 (entire albums)

2007-03-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

wilco -all
mono - all
explosions in the sky - all of a sudden i miss everyone
mogwai - all

the sunken treasure soundtrack 1.0

2007-03-11T16:50:00.000-07:00

i dont care, go ahead and judge:

lost one - jay-z
the sharpest lives - my chemical romance
say you, say me - lionel richie
slow hands - interpol
turn me loose - loverboy
every breathe you take - the police
the man comes around [early take] - johnny cash
what goes around.../....comes around - justin timberlake
the grand tour - george jones
public pervert - interpol
this aint a scene, its an arms race - fall out boy
devil in jersey city - coheed & cambria
hello - lionel richie
lazy eye - siversun pickups
misunderstood - wilco
the light & the glass - coheed & cambria

note:
i just broke all the "rules"

the massacre went well part two

2007-03-10T14:51:00.000-08:00

this city is overwrought with shit.
i hate to curse but i cannot help myself.

set aside the homeless issue, the drug abuse and/or drug transactions that take place in my sight, the front of my home (where i stand to smoke); if you remove redevelopment of inner-city projects (push the poor to the outskirts of this mass of land named after someone no one cares to study up on), then maybe all we have left is a place to eat, shop, and drink (hence the convenience of modern man/woman). never mind over-priced housing which is, in itself, ridiculous. and lets not speak about our senators and representatives caring about their constituents.

missing from up above (paragraph) is music. the music here is no sunken treasure (my column, clever huh?). nor are the bands that populate the genre. genre doesnt live here in houston, only scene. and then there is that stupid, yet catchy, song that rings in my head now - i should paraphrase - this aint a scene, its a goddamned arms race.

renamed (creating a new sect), i heard something called 'spacegaze' and/or 'stargaze'. i dont know either (if youre asking yourself what that is). its gratifying to know i 'helped' create it (only in houston - this type of music is nothing new if you look at bands like 'mew' or 'denali'). and i could go further and complain, but i digress.

music in houston is amazing in the fact that nothing will come about from it yet there are the persistent. unless youre zz top, or destinys child or (and at a stretch to mention) blue october, do you really stand a chance to get signed to a label that will 'take care of you' and maybe try and save the world? save the world is bad here.

but anyway. i think what matters here is this:
NOTHING.

music is what it is. the chemistry and dynamic (of which i believe crutial to any level if success any band) is what matters the most (granted ive played for a few years, in bands, live shows) in any city, any scene. geography does matter, in a sense.

but should we remember seattle.

the massacre went well

2007-03-10T14:47:00.000-08:00

so there lives in a plastic container certain amounts of candy that are supposed to fix. but we will see.

better people and they dont live

2007-03-03T18:04:00.000-08:00

oh, the clandestine opportunity of a source of information and irrationality.
i have nothing left.

clandestine. we dont use that word enough. also, oh, well, fuck it. words die faster than friends and/or family. words and people, theyre the same. they heal and hurt. as if only never to look inward.

i live in a world where acceptance is a ritual unparalleled to anything i can define.
a world where people give up.
humans torture.
demons exist eternally.

im drunk. im drinking too much and i know this. twelve a night we are up to and i dont much give a shit.

my son stood, on his legs, nothing to hold him up, for one minute today. i watched in awe. this little man, hes my savior.

jeffery todd thompson

2007-03-02T18:52:00.000-08:00

five years later, youre still resting.

ill miss you always.

3/3/02

im sorry i wasnt there for you. i can never say 'sorry' enough.

so i cry

...and scene

2007-02-27T08:39:00.000-08:00

i dont attend many shows.

note; shows that im not apart of being that i am a musician and have played a few 'shows' in the past.

family and whatnot stand in the way and thats fine. but whatever. lets move on.

i did 'catch' a show recently, on purpose, of course, for personal reasons (the band playing - i used to be apart of them - two or three years ago, myself and two other guys got in a room and started what is now the band i am typing about). it was their first show without me and i was very much interested in seeing/hearing what they had done in my absence (a mere three weeks ago).

the outcome, i thought, was to be either sadness or humor or a little bit of every emotive thought i could comprise. but all i did was laugh. and smile. not at my 'friends'. not at the songs. not from the candy i ingested before i left home.

bottom line, i did smile, and think...i know my place. i know my relevance. i know my 'style' and where i belong. maybe my laughter came from that. i dont know. but i got it. which is nice.

you go, rock stars!

2007-02-07T15:54:00.000-08:00

oh, cant we all just be different?
wait.
we are.
i see.
but it doesnt help.
it hurts.
but im a douche.
not a poet.
a douche.
moreover, a used douche.
i need to be cleaned?
she did that already.
regardless, the douche still applies.
i love(d) you all.
mr t will decide now.
not me.

2007-01-19T11:09:00.000-08:00

an absurd reasoning

2007-01-02T10:40:00.000-08:00

'Ideology must serve humanity, not the contrary and the ends do not justify the means' (quoted, put in current tense)

"Existentialism can be seen as a philosophical movement that rejects the belief that life has an inherent meaning, but instead requires each individual to posit his or her own subjective values. Existentialism, unlike other fields of philosophy, does not treat the individual as a concept, and values individual subjectivity over objectivity. As a result, questions regarding existence and subjective experience are seen as being of paramount importance, and initially above all other scientific and philosophical pursuits.

There are several philosophical positions, all related to existential philosophy, but the main identifiable common proposition is that existence precedes essence, i.e. that a human exists before his or her existence has value or meaning. Humans define the value or meaning of both his or her existence and the world around him or her in his or her own subjectivity, and wanders between choice, freedom, and existential angst. Existentialism often is associated with anxiety, dread, awareness of death, and freedom.

2006-12-21T15:36:00.000-08:00

why did you stop?
i dont think i ever stopped.
where is everything?
here, there, maybe over there, oh, and, my head.
show it to me?
do you really want to see a dead body?
no.

2006-12-16T18:41:00.000-08:00

i saw the end of the world before my son had eyes.

new

2006-12-16T09:03:00.000-08:00

hopefully, me doing this will make sense...one day.