| Why should I get a second job when I hate one already? |
[Nov. 18th, 2009|12:44 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Bright Eyes - If the Brakeman Turns My Way | ] |
The season's end has come at last. Today Lou told me that many people have canceled their clean-ups, and there was no reason for me to go into work. There may be one or two days left, reserved for the final big complexes. For the most part however, I am done. Once I believed that I could enjoy this line of manual labor. If anything, I realize I need to finish school quickly to diminish future time spent cutting motherfucking grass.
Which heartbreaking, soul-shattering, minimum wage time-sieve shall I explore next? Retail? Customer Service? Fast Food? The void seems endless.
It took me about 2 months to save nearly $700 for my guitar: http://guitars.musiciansfriend.com/product/Gibson-Advanced-Jumbo-Guitar?sku=517666
The one I'm getting is on clearance. The back of the body has a few blemishes in the finish. Only $600 to go. It will be mine. ...ya know, once i find another job and if I manage to refrain from frivolous spending. |
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| Shapardapodopoulikis |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|12:28 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  listless | ] |
| [ | music |
| | David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust | ] |
One month has actually passed since I started working. I cannot believe it. I'm cutting lawns for $8 an hour, under the table. It's supposed to be part-time, but this week I put in 39 hours in four days. I'm a zombie. I feel exhausted and sore when I don't work, anxious and tired when i do. The first few days of this job had me falling asleep before I could finish my dinner. And lately I don't think "ok, only 2 more hours till 5 and I can go home" but rather "eventually the sun will go down and we'll have to stop doing this."
I mean, the money is OK. But all I ever buy is food and gas. I do go to the movies more often, though. The main reason I decided I needed to do this was to get out of the house, not for mo' money. But because I have mo' money I don't want to go out since I either don't have time or I'm too tired; so "go out there and do shit" slips into "go out there and work and sleep and buy gas." I also feel like such a putz cutting lawns. I sense that I'm out of place there. In fact I'm pretty terrible at what I do, so I guess I feel like a putz because I am one. Sometimes I wonder why they don't just fire me. I don't even get along well with my co-workers, which is horrible since we work together for literally 10 hours straight. Manual labor is the worst. I'm growing more and more apathetic each day. Next time I'm gonna find a job in a book store. The grass is always greener... |
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| Gold Steel Life Lead Belief |
[Jul. 28th, 2009|03:26 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  melancholy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The White Stripes - The Big Three Killed My Baby | ] |
I feel dumb. I'm wearing a shirt right now that I bought the summer before my sophomore year of high school. It has a picture of Homer Simpson and says "Old School". I've grown my hair out and chopped it off countless times since I graduated. I haven't accumulated enough credits to be considered a junior yet, and unless I choose English as my major I'm still at the starting line of my education. Livejournal has once again completely lost its appeal. |
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| Inept |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|09:59 pm] |
I'm so terrible at chit-chat. It's like writer's block when people try to strike up a conversation with me about nothing; it's chat-block. I need finite topic to delve into while talking, not "oh how's life?" stuff. I always end up ending the conversation during the beginning of the awkward "how's everything" stage. Whatever. |
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| The Scriveners |
[Jun. 17th, 2009|03:58 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Neutral Milk Hotel - King of the Carrot Flowers Pt. One | ] |
Skilled people cannot help themselves from comparing their abilities with others' productions. Amateurs practicing at the most rudimentary capacity and artisans carrying a lifetime of knowledge both look at their colleagues within the craft and ruthlessly dissect their work as a professional courtesy. Their critique becomes a necessity. Understanding the decisions and inspirations which led to either a masterpiece or flop drive these pedantic players to develop on their own--either trying to recreate or improve previous thematic endeavors; art begets art.
For what purpose am I justifying expert snobbery? I hope it is not for the cynicism I carry for those who succeed. That would be sad; and I grew out of that phase when I was sixteen and finally realized that every band can not be Led Zeppelin, and that there are audiences for nearly everything, even Nickelback. Is it for the propagation of what I believe as an important artistic medium? I hope so. My peers (kids that like music but won't live off it) live and dream in a bubble, pushing away influences that they should critique and internalize, if only for themselves.
I began to think about this when I saw yet another kid-I-went-to-high-school-with's band myspace page. They're playing shows and stuff, so says the aforementioned webhut. I listened to their songs and did not like them, like most of the kids-I-went-to-high-school-with's bands. You could tell that they only listened to one type of music and only tried to imitate it.
The spectrum of popular music has two sides: the artist and the rock star. On one side there is Bob Dylan, on the other is Kiss. The best bands end in middle (The Beatles), with music that has depth being both expressive and appealing.
These kid-I-went-to-high-school-with's bands have no depth, and only appeal is that they're loud music wanting to play places. That is harsh, I'll admit--and I'm only applying this to most. There were a few bands with people I once knew that have instantly floored me.
I understand that my obsession with music and geeetarring is a moderate substitution for lack of talent. But lately I've been wanting to forget that inability and start a band. The name I came up with yesterday was The Scriveners after the short story by Melville because in all likelihood it'll end up being a weird wiry deranged arrangement that just dies. |
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| Magniloquent Introspection |
[May. 25th, 2009|01:46 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Sublime - Rivers of Babylon | ] |
Quiet modesty rarely conceives ample mingling opportunities. Barring instances involving an extrovert's intervention, a recluse expounds the misanthropic misconception of their character via bold apprehension amidst the coziest and conventional interactions. Eventually the shy guy routine dies to inebriated abandonment... well I think. I don't even know what I'm talking about.
Two sentences is all I could handle. Writing like that is like trying to reign in a wild bull, which I suspect is fairly demanding. Is there even such thing as a wild bull nowadays? Whatever.
My third most hated word is 'random'. If something is crazy or weird people will refer to it as random. Running into a classmate outside of school is not random. The store running out of Cheetos while you are craving Cheetos is not random. People use the term too much to define things with heavily limited parameters, and that just annoys me. Random is a stupid and clearly chosen word I hate.
Friday night revolved around my induction into the drinking age. My communion with the sacrosanct first legal beer occurred in Kalamazoo's Roadhouse restaurant. From there the disciples (Angela, Dave, Leah, Carter, Ray, Nancy, Alex, Ben, Joe... oh yeah, Kellen and even Lucian) ushered me from... ah fuck the rhetoric. I got really drunk at Wayside and had a massive hangover on Saturday. From what I hear, the wrath of dollar-pint-night's morning regularly occurs. In all I had like 10 beers, 1 shot and, 1 mixed drink thing. According to Dave I was completely blotto. On Saturday we ate dinner at Bilbo's (Lord of the Rings themed pizza? Sure. I am a dork and that's what I am. Moving on.) which was really good. I had the Garden of Eatin', a veggie pizza. That night we went to like four other bars, but I only had 2 beers since I still felt somewhat terrible from the night before. Sunday we had pancakes before we left Kalamadorkyzoo and now I'm home. Yeah, it was a pretty sick weekend (zing!).
Once again I got lazy with the lofty language and allusive imagery. |
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| Springtime in the Rust Belt |
[May. 5th, 2009|05:26 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Decemberists - The Queen's Rebuke | ] |
The Hazards of Love is a rock opera. The Decemberists usually have an approachable sound. But this album is an acquired taste for those used to their previous motifs. I really like the album's second half. One of the singers sounds like the singer from Jefferson Airplane, full of rock and soul. If anything, the Decemberists have gone from Chamber Pop to Chamber Rock with this one. It's surprising.
Last Saturday I went to a studio and recorded for 6 hours. The process is tedious. We finished three songs, which is a lot for one day. There were only 2-5 parts per song though.
I always use passive verbs now and it's boring. |
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| Media Hysteria |
[Apr. 28th, 2009|08:31 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love | ] |
SARS
Anthrax
West Nile
Bird Flu
Mad Cow
Swine Flu
Keep tuning in to see how this story develops and declines to nothing.
Recently I thought how arrogant it seems for Americans to define themselves as part X, part Y, and part Z when referring to their nationality. Like my grandparents were from Greece, Germany, Scotland, and Ireland, so that makes me an Irish-Scottish-Greek-Ger-man. Americans wave their heredity as a flag and identify themselves as a certain nationality when they've never actually lived outside the US. It's an arrogant and absurd ritual in which almost every American partakes. If I truly were Scottish, born and raised, and some punk from Ohio came along and said that this is his family's town and he's a Scotsman just as much as I am then I'd consider him a jackass. If you're born here, you're American. That's it--nothing more. |
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| 427 |
[Apr. 22nd, 2009|04:31 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Decemberists - Here I Dreamt I was an Architect | ] |
I had a nightmare: some kid tried stealing my guitar! We were in a band and nobody liked me. We were on tour in Colorado. I had to swim across a lake to get to the gig. I was hanging up my wetsuit back stage when the other three guys arrived; they were pissed at me. After some harsh words were tossed around one squealed that they hated me, never wanted to go on tour, and hated my work. They grabbed my gear and ran off! To the one that attempted taking my SG I punched in the face (naturally); the others escaped.
The SG survived the confrontation unharmed, thank god, but I lost everything else. Most of the dream was spent inspecting the guitar for any marring that had occured in the hands of that barbarian. The conflict made it vulnerable. The entire instrument warped a little every time I found a scratch or nick on its surface as if finding evidence of maltreatment disturbed its essence. Gravity was dragging this malleable chunk of wood down and apart. I put it back in its case, horrified.
I told the club manager the gig was canceled and the band disintegrated. My dad picked me up in a '65 Corvette--I was in a sour mood and did not want to swim home. We drove through the mountains on a frozen river, as it was faster than the highway. Our destination was a convention center. I kept a cache of random items I had acquired on tour there, most notably: the house in which I grew up, the parking lot of my old elementary school, and a collection of dumpsters. I sifted through the rooms searching for a bike. I was done with Colorado. My family members started to arrive for my grandparents wedding anniversary when I found the bike hidden behind stacks of albums in the hangar. It was a WWII-era motorcycle that was painted bright green, yellow, pink, and blue. I packed my guitar, extra clothes, and wetsuit into the original olive-green sidecar. I woke up from this nightmare while I was still in the parking lot swerving between all my relatives on the bike, trying to find the exit which seemed to have disappeared.
Okay, so it wasn't necessarily a nightmare. It wasn't even that horrible of a dream. I thought it would make a nice story though. I hate writing about dreams. I can't be thorough. It's like writing a summary of a film you saw three weeks ago. You quickly remember all the good parts, but then you need to go back and fill in the empty spots. You sit in front of the screen vainly attempting to renew the events, like a kid trying to remember the 15-minutes of studying they crammed once they start their mid-term and realize they're fucked. But, once you fill in the gaps it becomes clear that the minor parts are more detailed than the major points. Obviously you have to go back and try to balance everything. But then once you proof read it in its entirety it feels too artificial to be a dream recollection. Even after trying to fill in the holes there are gaping pits of events that you just can't recall, and there's no flow any more. Ugh! Whatever.
I always see the number 427. Everywhere I go it stands out.
I hate losing things. Not "win/lose" kind of losing. But misplacing things really annoys me and I get obsessive about finding whatever I lost, even if it's a pointless piece of trash. Like I was cleaning my room yesterday and I organized all my old video games and I couldn't find one game boy game. It was Golden Sun for GBA. I looked through every dusty box and shelf in my room trying to find that damned thing; but it's lost. I also can't find my first zippo lighter. It was black and I got it when I was 13. I've been tearing this room apart trying to find it. I don't even have a use for it, I just feel like I need to have it. And it's realllllly annoying me that I can't find it. |
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| Green Burn Defeatism |
[Apr. 20th, 2009|10:28 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Stooges - Not Right | ] |
I have the worst canker sore ever. It's nasty and hurtful. It laughs as it sends shock after shock of stinging pain through my jaw as I'm trying to fall asleep at night. If it weren't attached to my head I'd shoot it in the face.
Some old lady and her band played The Crane Wife on David Letterman. She's a real musician, but I forgot her name and described her as best I could: as an old lady. The singing didn't sound right. It's a cool song for people to play and improvise to, though. Point being: for the first time, I've heard a Decemberists song covered and did not hate it.
I downloaded the Yeah Yeah Yeah's newest album. It is good. I would classify it as Goth-Pop, if anything. They reminded me of a movie called 24 Hour Party People. The film documents the evolution of music in Britain during the late 70's and early 80's, how the punk scene slowly morphed into the night club rave scene. They Yeah Yeah Yeah's have a low key Dance-Punk feel to them that translates to Goth-Pop in my mind.
I also downloaded OutKast's discography because I felt like it. |
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| The Tap of Eternity |
[Apr. 6th, 2009|04:34 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Isis - Bob Dylan | ] |
I was inspired to write about eternal life. I wanted to write about the appeal of living forever, the forboding concern of death, and the true value of being able to start over. I thought about it for like 4 hours one night and I didn't have the good sense to write notes, or write the entry as I was brainstorming. But I did think that a human comedy about eternal life given to two people (how? it really wouldn't matter. think kafka), and the generations they live or squander, would make a good extended metaphor for a single lifetime of relationships as a novel. It would be one of those happy ending things where the protagonists relay the value of living by committing suicide after they're actualized. Think Gandalf and Frodo leaving middle earth forever-plus the grandpa in Everything is Illuminated dieing in a tub-and the two uncles from Secondhand Lions crashing into a barn with a WWI bi-plane-type of ending.
But I forgot every important aspect of my brainstorm so now it can not be done! Poop!
My favorite Bob Dylan song is Isis. I think it's because of the piano and it's an existential adventure. |
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| The Early Worm Gets Devoured |
[Mar. 29th, 2009|03:29 am] |
| [ | music |
| | The Clash - Four Horsemen | ] |
So right now I'm watching Battles BC on the History Channel. It's 3:30 in the morning and I'm learning that David was a total douche. He was just some kid that killed a Philistine champion. The king Saul was jealous of David for his popularity, and Paranoid of him becoming a demagogue so Saul had him exiled. Where did David go? Oh that's right, he became a mercenary FOR the Philistines and raided Israel while the army went to kill Saul. The only way for the Philistines to control Israel after Saul's death was by setting up a puppet government, headed by no other than their military hero who killed Goliath: David. But David didn't just want to control one province of Israel, so he had all of Saul's heirs killed. Then had all the assassins that killed the heirs killed. Then he owned the shit out of the Philistines. Then he was king. Then he had a crush on a girl and had her husband sent on a suicide mission so that she'd marry him. Then he slaughtered every nation bordering Israel and created an empire. He was still kind of a douche.
Whenever I watch these shows on the history channel (they're always on right around Easter) I can't help but think that the people that recorded what had happened really had no idea what was going on. All the leaders in the major stories were military men with a vast knowledge of tactics and strategy. But apparently every time they part the seas (cough* tell everyone to walk over the high part of the marsh during low tide* cough) or defeat armies that far outnumber them (using guerrilla tactics in the middle of the night and raiding provisions) it's all because God was leading the men and had absolutely nothing to do with the leader's 30+ years military experience. I think it's funny.
My dad was watching a film called Pale Rider earlier. It's a Clint Eastwood western; it had something to do with a gold mine and a rich guy that hired thugs and Mr. Eastwood fixed everything in the end. But the title is a reference to the Four Horseman, and I forgot what all the horsemen of the apocalypse are and what they mean. I remember there's green, red, black, and pale... and one of them means pestilence and another famine... I think? Bah. But now I'm listening to The Clash and the song Four Horseman has started to play and I thought it was a coincidence what with me just talking about the Bible. And now it's a more complex coincidence since I saw the end to a film referencing the Four Horsemen earlier today as well. I think the fortuity of these three events is also funny. |
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| The Perfect Metaphor |
[Mar. 21st, 2009|03:48 am] |
A while ago I tried forcing myself to think in rhythms. It didn't work very well or last for very long. I really have nothing else to write.
Except! I read a bunch of my entries from high school and got all nostalgic. I think I was really whiney then. I've become introspective over the past few months trying to figure out how I got here. Not cosmically "here" as in the large productions I'd put on in my journal during high school where I'd obsess about the meaning of life, but literally and selfishly "here" as in Still-Livonia.
I think it's better when I obsess over the cosmos and elaborate my napkin philosophy and backyard metaphysics. For one thing, it's far more entertaining whether one can follow whatever the hell I'm trying to prove or not. And it gives me deeper sense of self when I think about those things rather than "Still-Livonia." But something has changed.
"Nobody is left to impress."
The thing I love about Beck is his seemingly nonsensical gibberish word-rhythms pushing the song along like any other instrument. Occasionally he'll drop some true, unimaginably pertainable phrases, one of which I just quoted. Nobody is left to impress. I really like the feeling of that.
When I used to write in LJ I would always be on AIM. There was this robot-program buddy called Smarterchild that I would use as a thesaurus constantly. It made it seem like I had immensely expressive diction, when really I just searched for the perfect word if I ever found myself repeating phrases. Fundamentally, I tricked people frequently. I resolve no sympathy for that habit and I'm proud of all my entries. Mostly. There are a few gems. Ok ok ok, they're not great but there are like 2 or 3 worth reading. Or skimming. Fuck you! |
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| Confronts and Dies |
[Mar. 17th, 2009|05:01 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Black Angel Death Song - The Velvet Underground | ] |
AIG gets hundreds of billions of dollars in bailout money with an airtight contract that doesn't allow for any modification or oversight. The entire concept of their company is to make money off of people losing money. Today they gave over 100 million dollars in bonuses to 73 people.
GM has been given 13 billion in bail out money and is asking for more. It's a company that is at the heart of one of America's largest industries and congress might force them into bankruptcy. Rather than give GM a fraction of the amount they gave to AIG, although AIG employs a fraction of the amount of workers as GM, they'll almost guarantee the company to fail while AIG still doles out million dollar bonuses to it's executives.
What the fuck? |
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| The [girl/boy] in the [x (color)] [y (noun)]. |
[Mar. 14th, 2009|11:04 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | The Cure - The Weedy Burton | ] |
And the tap drips drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip...
The Big Lots manager ain't returning phone calls. Whores shit!
I thought an awesome Beck cover band name would be The Graveyard Futons. If you know Beck then you'll know why. However, I don't see very many people queueing to join Beck cover bands.
I saw Minority Report yesterday. I've seen it before, and never had any problems with it. But now I found one major flaw to the film. It was perfectly set up to be a tragedy. The John guy is a likable character who had a fall from grace and was dealing with personal problems. The character element of the tragedy formula therefore is solid. The plot fits a tragedy as well, man vs world and there's lots of betrayal and fighting and whatnot. So again, good fit. But then right at the end, after everything was proven that the whole concept of the Precog force was corrupt and John turned it on its ass, John didn't die. He HAD the tragic flaw of being too arrogant. He believed too much in that people are able to forge their own destiny and he was SUPPOSED to die for it. That's why it's called a tragic flaw, and why tragedies allow for an emotional purging thus making people feel good and think about what happened. But Speilburg didn't have the balls to go through with it! A seriously horrible ending ruined a solid film. Take a page out of Tarintino's book and give us more dead protagonists.
My cousin found Bright Eyes. That reminded me of how much I want to punch Conor Oberst in the face for only ever making amazing albums. Seriously. Every album this guy puts out is better than his last. For most artists it's an amazing first album, an alright sophomore album, followed by an epitaph album then they're gone forever. But not for this guy. His music is on a direct ascent to heaven. Nothing will stop it. Plus, my anger towards him is simply and ironic hipster thing. "So you like Bright Eyes?" "Fuck no they're so good it'd be waaay too pleb to like them." "Wow that guy is hip." *hipster glare* And I only learn all their songs and have all their albums to point out how bad they are duh...
I had a dream that I chain smoked. Then I got a degree in biochemistry and made robots. Then I got divorced (from who? I don't know) and became homeless. I have lots of homeless dreams, but very rarely am I ever married and divorced. Weird! |
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| Steady! Focus Whilst Stations Shake! |
[Mar. 8th, 2009|12:59 am] |
| [ | music |
| | The Fucked Up Blues - Beck | ] |
So I totally came up with the greatest band name ever. A recent googling resulted in zero significant matches. It has yet to have a wikipedia page. But then I searched myspace, and it's taken by a band from New York, with 300 friends. The name was The Pennymen. 2/3 is not bad. And don't start with the "You don't have a band" and "Do you even write music?" crap! Everyone knows it all starts with an awesome name! Duh. Once I get that the rest is just icing on the cake.
President Bush didn't allow congress to subpoena Karl Rove to testify on the attorney firings. He said that as president he could make Rove immune to a summons? I can't remember, I read the article like a week ago. But I thought it was weird. I mean, haven't we already gone through this whole "I'm above the law as president" thing before.
I want to grow a finely groomed beard, have floppy hair, and tour the world as a folk rock singer. I'd want to gain critical acclaim but never really break into the mainstream even after decades of touring. Then I'd like to go on to produce Alternative Pop bands for record studios while writing soundtracks for films as side projects to gain my fortune. I would want to then invest my money into a high profile restaurant in NYC or LA which will start strong due to my retro-hip celebrity, but then falter and fail and end up being the place where locals tell their out of town friends: "That's the restaurant the Pennyman guitarist owned." Somewhere along the way I'd like to get addicted to hard drugs or alcohol so that my life will be a viable story for a screenplay. In the subsequent film that I hope will be made about my life I'll have a cameo appearance as my soon to be manager at wherever I'm going to start working soon. I need to buy a cowboy hat and a harmonica!
That should be my "About Me!" section on facespace. |
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| Zing! |
[Mar. 3rd, 2009|01:59 am] |
| [ | music |
| | The Smashing Pumpkins - Geek USA | ] |
"Hmm, I'll get the rueben and fries with a side of ranch. And can I have the fries well done?"
"Sure thing. And for you?"
"I don't know yet. How is the mac and cheese?"
"I'd recommend it. It's incredible."
"I'll have that then. I wonder how it compares to my mom's mac and cheese, nobody makes it like she does."
"It must be pretty good if it can rival this."
"Oh god, it's not good, it's horrible. She makes it with beets and fish heads. I've never seen anybody make it the way she does."
Hah! |
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| There's a Hair In My Blues |
[Feb. 28th, 2009|01:15 am] |
|
START. Today I went to Blockbuster. No good movies are out, just so ya know. I rented "W." because Nick and Norah kinda seems like a date movie, and I just watched Rock 'n Rolla so getting The Bank Job would probably just make the two meld into one forgettable british crime comedy. Anyway, as I was checking what was out, I noticed a DVD with the cover of a Joy Division album. It was another dead musician movie. We've all seen Ray, Walk the Line, and Last Days and I concluded that this indie film about Joy Division's front man would be no different. THEN as I walked further along I saw another documentary about Joy Division. Seriously? What the hell. They had like two albums before the guy died and all of the sudden they're the most influential band of our generation and apparently only independant movie studios can cash in on it. I just thought it was weird. END. |
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| Regal Lager |
[Feb. 13th, 2009|06:21 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Heroin, The Velvet Underground | ] |
I'm only up to 3 gigs of music. I should have at least 20! What stands out, you ask? Nirvana is the best grunge band. People take Soundgarden seriously? How? They sound like an Ozzy cover band without guitar solos. Metallica is as good as you wish they weren't. American Rock needs to go back to 1968 and continue what Bob Dylan and The Velvet Underground started. The "80s-Pop" I have so far is more like "80s-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-cry," for that I thank Joy Division and The Cure. And finally, The Stooges song "Ann" is totally about Michigan. |
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| Those Initially Inspired |
[Feb. 5th, 2009|05:31 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Symphony 6- V. "Shepherd's Song" - Beethoven, London C | ] |
I stopped using conditioner. My new computer is pretty awesome; much faster than my last. I've been drinking way too much coffee lately and not enough water. My greatest fear is losing my teeth pre-octogenerian, but I hate flossing. A Fritos binge on an empty stomach feels like a kick in the balls. I don't have any more AAA batteries.
Today I downloaded every Beethoven Symphony. Then, using the interweb, I made a list of every influential band that led up to the creation of Death Metal starting from Hard Rock (Yardbirds to Slayer to Dark Tranquility). I also made a 2nd branch of bands leading from Hard Rock to Grunge (Grand Funk Railroad to Van Halen to The Clash to Black Flag to Nirvana). There are 40+ bands/albums that I plan on downloading. I'm gonna do the same thing with hip-hop to rap, and baroque to classical, since I've never listened to either in depth.
I had the song "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta" stuck in my head for some reason. I then listened to it online in an attempt to loosen it from my brain. Now I want to watch Office Space.
Without health insurance I'm much more concerned with my well being than I've been previously. The worst potentially non-fatal feeling is putting socks on cold feet. I'd wager that the worst potentially fatal feeling would be falling through a hail storm. Frivolous projects aside, I've been fairly bored for some time. |
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