True Adventures

2011-07-28T14:12:00.000-05:00

I've been fucking around with Tumblr for the last couple of years. Please visit me there.

Love,
Atom

Girl And Boy As One

2009-09-21T05:23:00.005-05:00

My good boy left for the coast
Packed his boxes and stacked them up
Drank my body; asked
"Is this enough?"
Oh no, no, no
God and money won't fill our souls
Oh no, no, no
Nothing can replace what the young boy stole

Now someday when it's real, true love
We'll know better than to say as much

My memories soften with time
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby
They show me what I care to find

I want just the worst of the feeling
I want just the worst of the feeling

Your sweetness rots in my mind
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby
Convinced of what you firmly denied

You left me the worst of the feeling
You left me the worst of the feeling

My sad girl is living all alone
Boxed her heart and shipped it off
Drank my body; asked
"When will you stop?"
Oh no, no, no
Sex and honey won't fill our souls
Oh no, no, no
Nothing can replace what the young girl stole

Now someday when it's real, true love
We'll know better than to say as much

Our past is gold and black at the same time
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby
I let the dark grow next to the light

'cause I want the worst of the feeling
I want just the worst of the feeling

You showed a new side on the river bank
Oh baby, baby
Oh baby, baby
You left me to find my own way

You left me the worst of the feeling
You left me the worst of the feeling

Hey boy/girl, get ahold of yourself
There's not a promise we will keep
Not to be friends, not to go to Hell
We'll drink our way to the bottom of the well
Collect our change and get on by ourselves
We won't stay true to any word we ever gave
As opposed to trying to collect
We'd rather drink ourselves to death

We're left with the worst of the feeling
We're left with the worst of the feeling

So it looks like I'll actually graduate...

2009-07-24T14:44:00.002-05:00

... at the end of summer term! I cannot possibly express my joy verbally.

I should start applying for jobs, so I can actually make and save money over the next year in preparation for my move. Also, I need to develop more plans for making money independently. So far, my only reasonable idea is independent curating for coffee houses and the like. We'll see how, or if, that works out. Maybe I could get into independent promotion, I used to be able to wrangle a pretty decent crowd back in the day. Suggestions and advice are welcome, as is information about any places that are hiring. I'd much rather work for myself, which is the long-term plan for life, but in about a month I will just be trying to make as much money as possible, one way or another.

Oh, Buenos Aires, you get closer every day.

For the first time in, well, years, everything in my life is moving as I want it to. I'm progressing, growing, and learning; the universe is opening its arms to me. The future is coming! The future is here!

The Hottest Summer on Record

2009-06-22T02:10:00.004-05:00

To hell with the almanac and the weathermen, 2009 is clearly going to be the hottest summer of my life. The heat is going to keep me awake and drive me mad. The city is going to boil over. It is exactly the kind of summer that I want.

I know I'm not the only one that soundtracks their summer like a thirteen year old. Whatever, it just happens. It's safe to say that these records are gonna burn holes in my ears for the next three months.

Summerteeth by Wilco.
- For some reason, I had this idea that I didn't like this record so much, despite my love for Wilco. I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This record will fuck your mother. Also, the bonus tracks are crucial for summer listening. "Candyfloss" is a pop gem and the remix of "A Shot In the Arm" is from the Sun.

Daydream Nation by Sonic Youth.
- This record just came roaring back into my life today and it is here to stay. I forgot about all the things that Sonic Youth does to me.

Un Día by Juana Molina.
- This record touches something primal, something way, way down. Deeper than sex. Deeper than hunger. It sets my head on fire. It reminds me that I love the taste of blood.

Farm by Dinosaur Jr.
- Despite the fact that I never listened to Dinosaur Jr. when I was younger, they remind me of being 17 and drunk as hell, which is an appropriate level of nostalgia for summer. And J. Mascis set his guitar on fire to make this record. FOR SURE.

More Adventurous by Rilo Kiley.
- What can I say? I met Jenny Lewis and was reminded that I planned to marry her when I was 18. "I Never" makes me want to be a woman, so I can sing like one.

Also, "Son of Preacher Man" by Dusty Springfield, which makes life awkward for people who are not in my car when I'm listening to it, is singlehandedly responsible for the death of one of my car's speakers. It's all Chase's fault.

I'm sure there will be some rotations in and out, but this is how summer is beginning on my stereo, and I'm ok with that.

I'm tired of all my clothes. Someone dump money on me so I can hire Courtney to make me a new wardrobe.

I bought a "Japanese Album" Moleskine notebook today, mostly becuase it's an interesting journal structure and I have a wicked discount. It features "60 zigzag folded pages," which really means one extremely long page, folded and creased to as to sort of function as 30 on either side. I don't know what I'm going to do with it. Perhaps I'll explore my visual side until I buy paint for my makeshift canvas.

I don't know what to write in the album (or in my proper journal, for that matter, because I'm no good at proper journalling) except that my life is 98% out of control. It's never boring, at least, and I find myself doing all sorts of unexpected things like writing the best song I've ever written, running eight-minute miles, getting myself into trouble, writing poetry, and listening to Bone Thugs on vinyl. Honestly, getting myself into trouble may not be so unexpected. Also, dancing has become the number one weekend activity in my life, which is so spectcular that I cannot wrap my head around why I didn't really go out dancing for two and half years (more or less).

Summer classes start tomorrow. I have to make sure that I'm able to graduate come August, if I so choose, but I also have to make sure that the classes don't ruin my life. I'm off to a good start, considering my first class is in about three hours. Ooops.

This was a marathon post. Whatever. The heat is back. In the city; in my blood. The moon will be full on July 7, and I'll probably catch on fire. My mother might know what I'm talking about, more or less.

Look at this picture of David Bowie being so much better than anyone else:

So fresh!

My first poem

2009-06-05T13:37:00.003-05:00

Obviously, I've written lyrics for years, as well as prose and fiction, but in the last half-year I've found myself increasingly drawn to and moved by poetry. I had been struggling with some creative stagnation for many moons, but it seems that I am emerging from that tunnel. And now, with much joy, my brain has finally wrapped itself around writing poetry, which is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me, nerdy as that may sound. So, this is my first completed poem. Ever.

"There is a thread"

There is a thread that runs through time.
Is this fantasy?
What constitutes a fiction?
I wander, eyes eager to interpret

If the crane emerges
graceful and wondrous from the treeline,
golden light cast long across its beak,
a shadow over our bodies,
and disappears like a phantom into the ravine,
is this inconsequential?

Am I to believe that parallel events are not synchronized?
A solar prominence
A wilting flower
My right hand - frigid
My left palm - a bog

When the lily succumbs to my neglect,
should I interpret this as my last act
of disregard?
Or perhaps it will mean that I am healed,
No need for a lily,
Or perhaps it will mean that it is true,
What I turn over with my rough hands in oblivion

It is true that
porcelain cracked
is never quite the same

There is a thread that runs through time.
Is this fantasy?

447

2009-06-02T02:15:00.006-05:00

I understand the silence now
And what we said, it won't work out
Tell your sister, oh
How we went down, down, down

All for nothing! All for nothing!
Turn our bodies inside out
Follow all the rusted rail lines
Drink the blood at the bottom of the swamp

Oh, lover!
I will disappear
The men will set out searching
But there's no one, no one

They won't find
What they are looking for
And I won't lie
I am not returning

No, I won't
I won't, I won't
You may call me back
But I cannot come

All for nothing!
All for nothing!
The blood we found will not sustain us
At the bottom of the sound

Roll with me beneath the ever dark'ning sea
Keep my fingers warm between your cheeks
Don't let them out

Join Or Die

2009-03-27T18:05:00.008-05:00

This is too magnificent not to share.

From syntheticpubes (via Beautiful and depraved): "Justine Lai is painting herself having sex with each US President, in chronological order. She’s up to Ulysses S. Grant (spanking her)."

Read her statement on the project and check out the gallery of the first eighteen presidents.

Furthermore, I've been moved to start a Tumblr as a reservoir for the various images and absurdities I encounter on the internet.

Peep it: True Adventures Tumbl(ing through the void)r

Poor, Poor Souls

2009-03-14T22:33:00.003-05:00

So tired
And we are so uninspired
But all the poor, poor souls
They can't keep it together

Porch light
Burned out or busted in lieu of a fight
Don't know what happened, don't know who's inside
Drunker than drunk on whiskey and wine

How could we know?
How could we know?
We built a fine fire to find that we are made of snow

So scared
And we are so unprepared
But all the cold, cold boys
Won't come in, not for nothing

Burn white
Skin of the satellite
Trace a new orbit, your tongue around mine
Make me the king of your unholy night

How could we know?
How could we know?
The words that whispered were forever turned into stone

Cold, we wait for the sun
We wait for the sun
Cold, we wait for the sun
We wait for the sun

I thought we'd be there by now
But it didn't work out
I thought we'd remake the sound
I can't work it out

Ocean - don't fill up - you've missed one last wandering stray

So tired
Missing the sunshine
Missing the fire
I hear it's easy to get on without

If I am in your class...

2009-03-02T13:34:00.001-05:00

...I would like it very much if you would:

1. Wear shoes
2. Sneeze/cough into your sleeve/hand/tissue and not just in the general direction of the floor
3. Wear real pants
4. Not say ignorant shit just to be a douche
5. Not talk about your step-father's abusive behavior because, while I'm very sorry about all that, this class is not group therapy

Is it so hard?

Oh, to write an album

2009-02-16T14:54:00.004-05:00

I've been a song-writer for ages, but for the first time I am embarking on an explicit journey to construct an album. Not a collection of songs, mind you, but an album. There will be a clear concept driving my work and it will, hopefully, function in a unified manner. Also, I intend to be highly experimental, equally because the format for this album will initially (and perhaps only) be cassette tape and also in an effort to forever silence the lingering voice in me that suggests I am somehow accountable to anyone but myself in regards to what I create.

If I remember correctly, the tapes are 30 minutes per side. I've toyed with the idea of an original, unified side A accompanied by a side B of covers. Regardless, the album is going to contain a cover of the Velvet Underground's "Oh! Sweet Nuthin'". I'm also considering making side A more reasonable, containing clearly separate tracks while maintaining a unified vision, and using side B to explore my wildest experimental desires. I have one song completed that I know I'm going to use, but I must consider its production. I also have the trappings of a second song that I believe is only going to be vocals and drums, with some varied sounds way in the background. There may also be some call and response choral chanting involved with that one. And I think I'm going to finally write a song to my print of Judy Garland. I obviously have a lot of writing to do, so I won't even pretend to have a time-frame for completion beyond sometime in the next year.

I've never set out to write an album before, a body of work with a unified direction and motive. Thus far, it's invigorating.

Whales & Mexico

2009-02-03T15:41:00.004-05:00

Go The Whale! is the new group consisting of myself, Arvind, Mike, and Brian. Listen to our music! I promise it will get you wet.

I'm going to try to start posting regularly here again, but I've said that before and neglected to do so.

It seems that I won't be graduating until the end of summer, but I suppose it's for the best considering there are no jobs and I have to be in Columbus anyway. The plan is to graduate, sub-lease from Mr. Idzakovich until he returns in December, and then move to Mexico. What am I going to do in Mexico? Read everything, write a dream-pop album, teach some children, meet some artists, lay in the sun, etc.

In the meantime, here are some lyrics to Go The Whale! songs.

Proud Son

Dot your 'i's while the smoke signals rise
From the warmth of our camp up into the night
The curve of the Earth led us astray
Now our hazy shapes cannot find their way
A strong breeze blows the gulls away
They drift out past the waves and the postmen say,

"Your sweet love calls to me
Across the sand and across the sea
My guns I will leave
I'll kick off my boots and fatigues to sing

'So long, proud son
Sell all your dope and send the boys back home
So long, proud son
Sell all your dope and send the boys back home'"

I missed you in the dirt!

I found my place on the crowded streets
They swept me off so silently
Through the walls came muffled sounds
I closed my eyes as you went down

How I long for the water!
A quiet place to sleep!
On those shaded banks, you could touch me
So slow
So slow

My fingertips creep; find holes in the sheets

Raise sun! Raise sea!
You cannot suffer if you cannot see
Raise shark! Raise sheep!
Drowned in the afterbirth, everyone will grieve
Raise voice with the breeze
The trees rustle softly to the sun's striptease and

Your sweet love calls to me
Across the sand and across the sea
My guns I will leave
I'll kick off my boots and fatigues to sing

So long, proud son
Sell all your dope and send the boys back home
So long, proud son
Sell all your dope and send the boys back home

I missed you in the dirt!

Now, we all fall down in the sand.

Backyard->Mars

The walls shook with a mighty sound
But we don't know nothin'
No, we don't know nothin'

The lamp shades all fell to the ground
But we don't know nothin'
No, we don't know nothin'

About what we are
Or the distance from the backyard out to Mars

All the light in me
Got sucked down deep to the bottom of the sea
Down, down where the heart goes
Down, down where the rivers flow

We need a new King of Desire
To lay us down easy on our backs in the fire
Touch, touch but don't get burned
Easy, easy trying to learn

The waves might crash like an army of the night
But it don't mean nothin'
No, it don't mean nothin'

The mountain turns king with a court by his side
But it don't mean nothin'
No, it don't mean nothin'

Is this all that we are?
Disembodied brains doomed to quiver forever in the dark?

If it pleases you
I will learn my way from the gutter to the moon
If it pleases you
I will poison my body with the truth

All our inspiration
Was killed in committee at the League of Nations
Drop, drop dead onto the ground
Choke, choke on the wicked sound

We need a new King of Desire
To show us how to grind, how walk on fire
Slow, slow so it won't hurt
Deep, deep filthy in the dirt

There is a beast in me
A fire so hot that I cannot breathe
It inspires all my games
I know it looks better when they ache for the shame
Older now, they go down
And the rapids put the fires out

If it pleases you
I'll follow these banks to the shores, to the truth
If you care to get loose
Take me in the back, show me your new shoes
Show me your new shoes
Let me taste your leather
Let me lick your truth

Holy river, roll me home

All the light in me
Was ground like bones in the chasm between
The river and the bottom of the sea
Wicked is the ghost machine

Say nothing, Say nothing
Don't let anybody cut those jeans
The soft denim makes your hips look so good
Cover up now, momma says it's obscene

Touch nothing, touch nothing
Breath soft, don't say what you mean
Teach the kids how to lie like foxes
Sex in the dark, out back, on their knees

Taste nothing, taste nothing
You spit venom but it cleared our veins
Now we get down like the beat's still rolling
And we're piss drunk at the bottom of the sea

Seagrass

Take one, take two stone
But don't let them roll
It's enough for the empty
And they're often told
Where the circuits go
Where the circuits go

Take one, take two stone
But don't let them roll
It's enough for the empty
And they're often told
Where to find our gold
Where to find our gold

You can't sell me back my own damnd soul
It is yours to keep (and mine to lose)

Found out!
Don't back down!
I got something for you, kid
Don't you wanna come down and get

Caught! Red-handed by the cops
At the corner of Park and Broad
It's nothing, it's nothing but your charm
Wasted!

Hey sister! Won't you ride with me?
We'll catch witches in the sun
Hey sister! Won't you ride with me?
There's no world left for us

Hey sister! Hey sister!
Don't let nobody tell you no
Don't let nobody tell you no
Hey sister! Hey sister!

(Etc.)

Found out!
Don't back down!
I got something for you, kid
Don't you wanna come down and get

Caught! Red-handed by the cops
At the corner of Park and Broad
It's nothing, it's nothing but your charm
Wasted!

Found out!
Don't back down!
I got something for you, kid
Don't you wanna come down and get

Lost! Twenty miles outside of Oz
Don't stop or take your panties off
That's nothing, that's nothing but your charm
Wasted!

You can't sell me back my own damned soul
It is yours to keep (and mine to lose)

Take one, take two stone
But don't let them roll
It's enough for the empty
And they're often told
Where to find our gold
Where to find our gold

I found this old Notepad document...

2008-05-30T16:10:00.002-05:00

It was saved under the title LIST OF STuFF. It was created at the end of last July. It reads as follows:

"IMPORTANT:
Exercise
Save Money
Take more pictures
WRITE
Paint
Make collages
Avoid listlessness"

It seems I have neglected my own advice, for the most part, since July. Time to correct that.

Carry Me Out Past the Well

2008-02-19T14:39:00.002-05:00

Carry me out past the well
I can make it home myself
If you tell me what it means
To wear bleached and broken jeans
In the summer of ought five
How you glowed when I was alive

Cut loose from the sun
It turns its back
You turn on me
And it just turns me on

The leaves are all dyed green
But the tips turn yellow
A brown crust encroaches
On all my wicked dreams

Leave the whiskey on the shelf
And I'll keep it for myself
Just tell me what you know
About the footprints in the snow
And where they all came from
I heard the man cut out his tongue

Let me break this down
None of us are clear
On why you insist
On coming around

Cut me out of her
Pull the carcass from the fur
Let the Converse kids
Find their own death behind the supermarket
We'll steal all their gold
We'll steal all their shows
And we all shine on
We all shine on

We won our weight in souls
Not worth their weight in gold
Smash the garden gnomes
Break down doors and invade homes
Now hold the children down
Don't let them make a sound
We all shine on
We all shine on

I'll leave the secrets in your mouth
And you can keep them to yourself
If you show me on the bank
Where you said you saw the snake
And his old hiding hole
I heard that men gave up their souls

Hired.

2007-07-31T18:47:00.000-05:00

Macy's finally answered the phone and gave me a job. Glory! Glory! Tomorrow's my first day and I've got a full eight hour shift from seven AM to three PM. Considering I spent most of the last six months of my life going to bed around six AM, you may think I've lost my mind, but I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll be so sleep deprived that Macy's will seem like a wondrous forest full of magical armor.

On Thursday, Chase & I leave for Chicago and Lollapalooza. We're staying with Angel Thursday and Friday night, but we don't really know where we're staying Saturday night. I did send some awkward messages regarding it today, though, so hopefully those will be fruitful.

This is my Friday night, bitches:

Better than yours, for sure.

I need to start writing again and putting my digital camera to work. Exercising would also be a good idea, considering my lifestyle. Will these things happen? Not all at once, but each in time.

CHESS IS DA RULERZZZZZZ. BYEEEEZZZZZORRRZZZZZZ!!1112345~!$%

If Macy's would answer the damn phone...

2007-07-25T14:23:00.000-05:00

...maybe I could finally get a fucking job. At least they called wanting to set up an interview. That's further than I've gotten with any other places. I really must get a job ASAP. Or I will die.

This is a pretty arbitrary post, I'm not feeling particularly inspired and there's not much to report.

Tonight's Interpol. Friday's Third Eye Blind. Next weekend's Lollapalooza/APRIL MOVES BACK TO COLUMBUS!!!

That'll be nice. Only an hour away as opposed to four.

Dear Columbus,

I was very sick of you by the end of the school year, for reasons that had little to do with you. Now that it is nearly August and I've spent the summer living in Dayton (or, more accurately, living as a nomad shuffling around the mid-West), I've begun to miss you quite a lot. I miss the life of a city, all bustling and bright.

From the Beav with love,
Atom

Often times, while driving or lying in bed, I think about how I'm going to decorate my apartment next year. I think I'm going to line the hall with erotic photography. In the living room, I'm going to hang an American flag on one wall and decorate it with appropriate magazine and newspaper clippings. Maybe I'll paint on it, too. I want my apartment to be a cave of insanity. All my furniture will surely be silly, since most of it will come from the house of my mother's psychic. There will almost certainly be no consistency. I'm OK with it. The furniture in my life has never been consistent.

I'd really like a new pair of glasses.

An Open Letter to Ludwig Van Beethoven

2007-07-12T23:51:00.001-05:00

Ludwig,

You were a gift to the human race from the Sun. Watch the fires catch the wind.

Sincerely,
Atom Vincent

A Song For Paris

2007-07-07T21:21:00.000-05:00

Paris, baby, I am building you am empire

I swear, baby, that I understand
The pressure of the world is the pressure of your hand
The heat rises and where once was one
A second star burns and all the sidewalks run

With blood in front of old bars full of old men
On filthy streets drowning in slow gin
Press your ear to the past and listen fast
Alexander is burning up the hourglass

Paris, baby, I am building you am empire

I swear, baby, you don't understand
All the pressure placed upon a land-locked man
The sea calls me back into its arms
We could live forever while the rivers run

With blood outside of old towns bought and sold when
Dying captains admitted all their old sins
Press your hands to the glass and watch them pass
Rockefellar is tearing down the overpass

Paris, baby, I am building you am empire

One that shines like gold
Some secrets about Charlemagne have never been told
The way he shined like gold
Everywhere he walked women and children called

Oh, I wish that you were mine, all mine, lord
I remember you were mine, all mine, lord

Paris, baby, I am building you am empire

So we can shine like gold

Pittsburgh

2007-07-06T04:09:00.000-05:00

This city is a quality establishment. Get on it.

Quote of my life: "I'ma choke that big bitch."

Diagrams

2007-06-20T23:23:00.000-05:00

Lyrics! To the new Probably Cyborgs song. Come to the Screamer House on Saturday night and watch us wail. And bleed. And rub ice cream on ourselves. Get in the back of my ice cream truck, kid.

Brothers and sisters
Raise your hands and feel the lining
Of the belly of the beast
Prime candidates for consumption
We have been swallowed whole by the great white whale
What do we do if there are no chairs in the kitchen?
What do we do if there is no coffee in the can?

My definition of love
Is a blood filled cup
The smell of sex
And a rare steak on a golden dinner plate
I will eat you out before I eat your heart
I will eat you out before I eat your heart

I was once seduced myself
By the promise of a suburban blowjob
And a fifty dollar eighth
Glittery make-up and rainbow colored hair
There is nothing behind the glamour of the West side
I will say it again
There is nothing behind the glamour of the West side
But emptiness
Like Amber waving from the grain silo
Silver and phallic
Its void meant to inspire my dreams
Its void the hollowness of everything I have ever been asked to believe
"Fill me up!" It screams
"Fill me up!" She screams

Stop! Will you please help me paint my face
Please! I know the sun is all I need
Bring me all the love that you can find
And if the moon still reflects the sun
Don't leave the porch light on at night
Stop! Will you please help me change my ways
Please! I know the sun is all I need
Save all of your love for me

I'd rather be a sad musician than a priest
I'd rather be a sad musician than a pig
I'd rather be a full grown man than a dog
But I cannot erase all of my faults; it's not my fault

Beneath the flag pole, with our bodies, we can worship God and country

Stop! Will you please help me paint my face
Please! I know the sun is all I need
Bring me all the love that you can find
And if the moon still reflects the sun
Don't leave the porch light on at night
Stop! Will you please help me change my ways
Please! I know the sun is all I need
Save all of your love for me

If this were a lecture hall
I would draw for you diagrams
Of the pieces of my body
That have been destroyed by my life
First my heart
Then my heart
Then my arms
Then my heart
Then my lungs
Then my liver
Then my heart
And then my mind

Sharks all rally 'round the crucifix
Rats all rally 'round the crucifix
Fuck me baby, OH, I need my fix
Cut me baby, OH, I need my fix

Beneath the flag pole, with our bodies, we can worship God and country

The Red Summer Sun

2007-06-03T17:51:00.000-05:00

Summer 2007 means:

Beavercreek. What??!!?!

C.C. White.

Bonnaroo & Lollapalooza

Third Eye Blind
Paul McCartney
The Counting Crows
(in near constant rotation echoing from my speakers)

3-7 Canvases
Various brushes and paints

Outrageous music recorded on the balcony/living room/bedroom

Wet. Wet. Sweat. Sweat.

Bicycle!

Simple job with little responsibility.

Driving to Columbus.

Flying to British Columbia? (maybe maybe, baby baby, gotta see me some whales)

Fishing/Camping.

Roadtripping? Anyone?

Everyone I love: let's do as many things together as we can. Let's go places and see beautiful things and feel wonderful things. Let's prove Hemingway wrong and live life farther up than bullfighters.

"If once
You felt love unrequited
Never feel it again

If ever your heart reached out
To nothing
Forever let it be filled

If ever
A back turned to you
Never again let it be mine"
-Paul Horschemeier, "Dance of the Black Unicorn" from 'Sequential' issue six

Let's be hokey all the time. Flash dance in the fading light.

2007-05-30T06:38:00.000-05:00

My post from Thursday, May 17 ("I wrote this today..."), has become the focus of a final project for one of my English classes. The class, Music & Modernist Literature, is all about the interdisciplinary study of music and literature and crossing that divide. In any event, for my final project, I attempted to rewrite that piece as music. Not soundtrack it or accompany it, but literally recreate it musically. My specific goal was to elicit the same set of emotions and create the same emotional experience musically as in the text. You can listen to the musical endeavor here: http://www.mysapce.com/atomvincent. That, of course, is my Myspace Music page. The musical piece is the fourth track on the player, titles "The Field (Final Project.)" Ignore that silly title, it is truly meaningless. In reality, but the written piece and the musical piece are untitled. Anyway, have a read and a listen and tell me what you think of the whole endeavor, someone. I'm really curious as to how it turned out in the eyes of another.

Itinerary for Wednesday, May 30, 2007.

7:50AM 1 hour and ten minute nap
9:00AM Shower (which is useless in this heat)
9:30-11:30AM English 596
11:30AM Lunch!
12:30?-3:30PM Making a sign-up sheet for move-out, napping
3:30-4:18 Piano Class
4:30-FOREVER Reading The Intuitionist and writing a response. Finishing up any leftover, uncompleted work from English 553, in which I have been such a dreadful student I should be shot in the street. Doing laundry. Coming up with a thesis for my 553 final paper. Basking in the sweet glory of know that I have very little left to do this year.

I've got a one way ticket to the sun, son, and I have no intention of returning.

2007-05-23T01:33:00.000-05:00

Too much. Too much.

I've had enough of it.

College.
Class.
Columbus.
Nocturnal living.
Stagnation.
Listlessness.

I planned spring to be an easy, quiet segue into summer. Alas.

I want a whale. Or a pleasant turn of events.

I give up.

Apologies for my whining.

Spanish Sun

2007-05-22T04:15:00.000-05:00

The days all melt away
In the dark, pillows cover my face
I slept through spring this year

And my life slips away
Out of my hands and into space
I'll get back on my feet next year

Summer sun
I beg you
To take me away
I am not safe

Only in the sun
Do I love you
The cold creeps in
I creep away

My dreams all melt away
But at least the sun's upon my face
I know that I won't grow this year

The days will melt away
The soft glow of machines will tan my face
I know I won't see home this year

Spanish sun
I beg you
Take me home
To the gold I've known

I did not
Know it at the time
But it is where I belong
It is my home

I'm going back to Barcelona

Never Gonna Die. Never Gonna Die. Never Gonna Die.

2007-05-22T03:25:00.000-05:00

Everybody's dead
But me and you

You're standing still
Because you cannot see
That the way things are
Is the way they're meant to be

Your presence creeps into
The corners of my life
Like the city lights turn country skies
A sickly pink at night

Let the rain fall
I let the rain fall
Without a sound
I won't make that call
I'll leave it to your momma to tell you

Everybody's dead
But me and you

Lean in closer now
You can't resist
All the quiet conversations
Brushing past our lips

Make me warmer now
The void is cold
We orbit too far from the sun
Trajectories untold

Sing a song out
To the satellites
Sing a song out
To the satellites
Just let your momma cry

There is no gravity here
If we flap our wings
We could fly through the atmosphere

Burning wings, take me home
I will return to Earth
On a chariot of gold

And if everybody's dead
They will not notice that
We're long, long gone, instead
They will just think that we are
Quietly at home in all our separate beds
That we are quietly at home in all our separate beds

All the boys fall down dead
All the girls fall down dead
All the cities sleep in their quiet beds

There is no one else here
Who would care to know the facts
About these desperate years

Everybody's dead
So Jupiter ceases
Everybody's dead
So the heat increases
Everybody's dead
So two suns set
We'll never be at home again

Your power over me is not a lie
Twin suns burn across the summer sky

2007-05-22T03:09:00.000-05:00

http://explodingdog.com/january2/tomeyouareperfect.html

and

http://explodingdog.com/january2/sometimesidothis.html

and

http://explodingdog.com/january2/iamgivingup.html

That's all.

Comments...

2007-05-21T17:59:00.000-05:00

I've upgraded and changed my template for the blog (although the visual changes are minimal) and the comment feature should now work just fine. Note, however, that the link to read and leave comments is now found at the bottom of each post as opposed to the top. Comment away! Or don't. Whichever you prefer, really.

I wrote this today...

2007-05-17T14:55:00.000-05:00

...after class without stopping or giving much consideration to what was coming out. That is, it's very stream of conscious. I guess. Eat it.

It’s a chilly afternoon. Late May, but chilly. It rained all night. It rained all night and the fires went out. Now we’re just lying in the grass, the two of us, the earth is damp but not offensive. Her lips are cold to the touch, the wind blows across them. Her lips are cold and yet all around us life springs up. Trees and grass and flowers and squirrels and if the skies cleared and the sun came out maybe it would warm her lips and melt away the thick, chilled icing upon them and maybe then we would feel something when we touched and we could dance in the tall grass of the field, spinning in circles, sky exploding above us into the bright blue of heaven and gold light falling from the sun. Tall grass and gold light and warmth. I never stood in the field, but if the sun came out we could dance in it together and make it ours and break down the fences and let it creep out across the earth until it consumed everything and the whole of the planet was one huge pasture, all tall grass and gold light. I try not to regret. I try to let the past be what it is. I try to keep it from lingering. But there is one regret I cannot overcome and it is that in all the years I looked upon the field I never once stood in it. They moved the cows out when I was thirteen, leaving the field to its own devices, yet never once did I step through the broken fence. Gold light and tall grass and big blue sky and it is all I think of at night when it is cold and yet I never once stood in it and surely I could go now and be a part of it but the magic is gone. I let it die. And gold light will still fall upon the field and the grass will still grow tall, but not quite as tall. Not quite as golden. The fence will be new soon, the broken parts repaired, or removed all together, the field overturned for the sake of a young family and their four walls. And this does not make me as sad as the fact that never once was I a part of it. Bare feet and bumpy soil and tough grass (or is it soft?) and that is all I want, that is where I want to be. I want to stand in the field, light falling in waves from the vaulting sky and I will stand alone for who would stand with me? the way I want to stand? And I would lay and roll and laugh and be in love with the earth more than I have ever been in love with anyone else and I would be complete and I would not be afraid and I would not be lonely and the field would give me all it has to give and I would give it all I am able and we would be one, forever, in the golden light. In the tall grass. I will show you the field, I will slow the car as we drive by or I will point it out as we leave my old home but we will not set foot in it. It will not be ours. It offered itself to me and it is only now, too late, that I realize what I have missed. Too late. Too late. And soon the sun will break through the clouds and it will be evening and the gold light will fall here and it will fall there and all the world will be golden for a moment and in that moment I will be a part of the field but that is the best I can hope for, a single moment of completeness, once a day through the spring and summer of every year I spend here. But soon those years will be up and time will move me to a different place and the light will still be gold but the shade will be different and it will carry something else with it that is not the field and it will fade into my memory becoming a quiet concept and someday a deep longing that I will not be able to explain or come to terms with and I will never again be whole and by that time the field will have passed away, as fields do, and I will be a man of pavement and sidewalks and quite disdain and it will rain all night and the fires will go out and all will be cold to the touch. And quietly, in the back of my mind, the subtle memories of warmth will creep in and I will know that I am missing but I will not know where I have gone.

Wow, I wrote a lot of songs.

2007-04-16T15:49:00.000-05:00

So, since the last time I posted lyrics (September 10) , I've written seventeen songs. That averages out to about one every twelve days. The reality, however, is that four of them have been written in the last week, and thirteen of them have been written since January 16th. Clearly, my creative juices have been flowing. Now I'm going to post all of the completed songs, good and bad. Five of them ("A Brief History", "So[u]l", "A Bracelet of Black Cloth", "Take Me Down to the Beach", "We All Deserve to Die") are included on my recently recorded album, On the Streets of Houston, A Pimp is Furious... (the rest of the lyrics for the album you can find here and you can listen to three tracks here.) Now you get to read seventeen songs, presented in chronological order. Your head is probably going to explode.

"A Brief History"
(written in early November, track 7 on my album)

Please just forget about me
I'll leave behind all these quiet streets
I'm going back to bed
Your love weighs down on my like lead

A quiet night and empty cars
Dark windows for darker hearts
And I should go back home
I should tell them all they're not alone
And I could set them free
I could take every one of them with me

Desert sun has me drenched in sweat
Sticks and stones, a rusty bayonet
As the Yankees charge the hill
And all my brothers' blood spills
And we can't turn the tide
But they'll not forget our battle cry

When we hear their marching drums
We will know that our time has come
When they set our bodies to aflame
They will melt away all the lies that remain

Then the weight that we've carried so long
Will dissipate like youth into the skies of home
It will sink into the ocean's depths
The pressure crushing its lungs, muffled dying breaths

Our fathers' blood will taste divine
All of their love will be yours and mine

"Standing Naked in the Dark"
(written in early November, within a week or so of "A Brief History")

Street lights look different
In the freezing rain
It’s not like a summer storm
That makes us clean again
The blue light flickers
The siren screams
But not for me

This is how it starts
Standing naked in the dark

The cold follows me home
Every night of the week
Crawls out of the cracks in the sidewalk
Wraps itself around me
All hours of the night
Ghosts pick at my skin
But I won’t let ‘em in

This is how it starts
Standing naked in the dark
Standing naked in the dark
Standing naked in the dark
Standing naked in the dark

Pavement glistens in the pouring rain
As everything else just melts away
And I’m left standing all alone
In a dark room that I don’t know

I feel the coldest wind
Brush up against my skin
In the quiet of the dark
I can hear the beating of my heart

This is how it starts
Standing naked in the dark
This is how we part
Standing naked in the dark

""Trashy, Angry Teenage Song"
(written over Thanksgiving weekend, the world could do without this song, but apparently it needed to get out of my system.)

I’d call my aunt’s house
But she’s not even home
To give me handouts
And I feel so alone
Down on my hands now

And I don’t know why I drove my car off that cliff
And I don’t know why you haven’t slit your wrists

I’d call my girlfriend
But she fucks other guys
Just on the weekend
For drugs, money, or fun
I guess it just depends

And I don’t get angry I got nothing to say
‘Cause I fuck other girls but just on holidays

If I stay in this place
For one more fucking day
I swear to God and I swear to Mom
That I’ll go fucking insane

‘Cause I’m a white, middle-class
Young man alive in America today
I’ve done one too many drugs
I’ve got a penis and a debt to pay

I’m in the tress now
Hiding like a scared little bitch
From the police hounds
Sniffing out the coke on my dick
From my dead girl’s mouth

I don’t know how she fucking overdosed
But I had sex with her corpse and now I’m scared of the ghost

If I stay in this place
For one more fucking day
I swear to God and I swear to Mom
That I’ll go fucking insane

‘Cause I’m a white, middle-class
Young man alive in America today
I’ve done one too many drugs
I’ve got a penis and a debt to pay

I built a meth lab; I bought some orange tab
My weed’s got red hairs; I won the science fair
Ayo for yayo; please hold the mayo
Had sex on ecstasy; rode in a submarine

Free basin’ crack, man; free basin’ pac-man (xinfinite)

"Hands"
(This was written for my co-workers in Stradley, specifically to thank them for all they did for me fall quarter, although there could never be words enough to truly thank them. I believe this was written just after Thanksgiving. It was late November or early December, for sure.)

Raise your hands
to the sky
And place your love
beside mine

We can overthrow the sea together
Our hands are joined they cannot be severed
To the mast, our hearts are tethered
And they will burn from here to forever

If the depths try to swallow me whole
I will know that I am not alone
Your love is warmth inside of my bones
I know that I will never be cold

Raise your hands
to the sky
And place your love
beside mine

1000 voices rising up from the Earth now
To take away the weight we've carried so long
"We will bury it beneath the ocean
We will lift you up into the sun"

Then the past will fall behind us
We'll drift into the open arms of the sun
It will give us the warmth guidance
That we've dreamed of for so long

"So[u]l"
(written in mid-January, this is the second part of track 10 on my album)

You spin me round and round
In the darkness, faster now
To keep my head from spinning out of control
I pull in closer

When you first called my name
My flesh became a ball of flame
Now that my parts have begun to fuse
We can have the party I promised you

Fill me up with hydrogen
And I will fill the balloons with helium
And in between I will become the sun
Touch your lips to mine and we'll be one

I burn the brightest
WIth your lips to kiss
With your hand in mine

Even in the snow
My dim light glows
But I won't make it to the end

I've run out of hydrogen
And I've run out of helium
And the man I was dies inside the sun
His red arms reach out to make us

One with the Earth and sea
And Mercury
Venus and our moon

At the end you'll find
All that was mine
Blown into the void

I am a white dwarf
I am your best friend
I am not able to
Support life again

I am a black dwarf
You cannot find me
I simply float on
Into eternity

Sol

"A Bracelet of Black Cloth"
(written in mid-January, a few days after "So[u]l", this is the first part of track 10 on my album)

Life was better
With a bracelet of black cloth
At home in the dark
With the sound turned off

Life was better
When I could hold my breath
My lungs were alive
Under the weight of my chest

I sang loud
And I sang proud
That I would never be the same

Oh, God
If I knew that it was true
I'd have changed all the words on the page
To "I just wanna stay the same"

"Berlin"
(written in mid-January, within a week of "So[u]l" and "A Bracelet of Black Cloth". Anyone who knows anything about Berlin as a modern city, it's vibrancy and life, should be well aware that this song is clearly not about the real Berlin, or, actually, Berlin at all. The part of the song that is in German is a traditional German children's song.)

We're in Berlin now
We're finally home
The city's bitter
Cold and alone

The gray stretches on
For days and days
Children play outside
With cafeteria trays

In the snow
In the snow

Berlin
You are my home
Berlin
You are my soul

Where once a wall stood
My body lies
To divide the earth
Between fire and ice

Where once a man stood
A child cries
Over his father below
And the raspberry color

Of the snow
Of the snow

Berlin
You are my home
Berlin
You are my soul

Now the engines of the airships whine
In the quiet of the night with a dark design
While the Spree burns through the night
The children let out a cacophony of cries

Oh, jemine!
Oh, jemine!
Oh, Berlin
Oh, Berlin
Oh, Berlin

Eins, zwei, Polizei
Drei, vier, offizier
Funf, sechs, alte Hex
Sieben, acht, gute Nacht!

Neun, zehn, auf Wiedersehen!
Auf Wiedersehen!
Neun, zehn, auf Wiedersehen!
Auf Wiedersehen, Berlin!

We're in Berlin now
We're finally home
The heart of the city
Is the warmth of my soul

We're in Berlin now
We're finally home
The sorrow of the city
Is broken by the voices

In the snow
In the snow
In the snow
In the snow

Berlin
You are my home

"Take Me Down to the Beach"
(written in mid-February, this is track 8 on my album)

Take me down to the beach
Let me drift out to sea
This city's too much
The altitude's too high for me

Take me down to the valley
So I can be with my kin
Lizards and cacti and all the young men
Who died in the sun, now buried in sand

The night will come quick
It will snatch up the day
I will look you in the eyes
But not hear what you say

What you say
What you say

And I can't sleep
And he can't sleep

But we're not fooling each other
We're not fooling each other
We're not fooling each other
We're not fooling each other

When we can't sleep
And we can't weep

For the dead in the dust
The dead in the sea
The dead in the sand
The dead under me

I know our children will bleed
I know our children will bleed
I know our children will bleed
I know our children will bleed

If God were alive
I know he could see
But God is long dead
He passed in my dreams

And we will become
The dead in the dust
The dead in the streets
The dead underneath

Where our children are bleeding

"THEME SONG FOR A ROBOT"
(written at the end of February, this is my theme song)

I've got a big dick and a stack of cash
But I am broken and the money won't last
A big dick and a stack of cash
Alone in the alley with the bulls at last

If I were darker inside
I would never have known
That there was a light
But I have seen it
With my own two eyes
I will not be confined by space or time

I've got a big dick and a stack of cash
The ceiling's on fire, I am blinded by ash
A big dick and a stack of cash
FULL G, FULL G, and one more for what's passed

I am not surprised
The thirst for blood
Has lasted my whole life
I assure you
I will never die
I'll move beyond the wall and out step time

FULL G, FULL G
You cannot kill
What you cannot keep

FULL G, FULL G
You cannot fuck
When you are asleep

FULL G, FULL G
You cannot kill
What you cannot see

FULL G, FULL G
I'll drink your blood
You can't stop me

"Captain of Industry"
(written at the very beginning of March, within a week of "THEME SONG FOR A ROBOT". This song was written arbitrarily because I felt that I was dressed like John D. Rockefeller while at the opera. Also, robots are going to take over the world.)

I am a captain of industry
I'm here to tell you all
You will each be replaced
By the robots I bought today

It's just the profit margin
I'm sure you understand
Machines can do things
That men never can

They can work all night
And not give it one thought
We are not slaves like them
We know this life is ours

They'll never take a lunch break
And never complain
Their steel hands will drive the hammers
But not think of personal gain

They are just sheets of steel
They are just nuts and bolts
They are just chips and wires
Pulsing with one-hundred million

Electric volts
Electric volts
One hundred million
Electric volts

And they might look like us
And they might talk like us
And they might feel like us
But they are not alive

There is something inside
Of you and me
That could never be represented
By any complex machine

No, I do not run on electricity
We do not run on electricity

I am a captain of industry
Good luck with your endeavors
Your hopes and dreams

The robots came for you
And now I see
The robots came for you
I hope one day they come for me

Comfort me
Come for me
Comfort me
Come with me

Cum with me
Cum with me
Cum with me
Cum with me

I am a captain of industry
I do not run from electricity

"We All Deserve to Die"
(written in mid-March, this is track 11 on my album)

I glisten in the moonlight
Catastrophic eathbound eyes
The polka-dot jungle will not survive

The only memories I can still assosciate
With certain films I've seen
Involve raunchy sex

In a dark, quiet room
Three thousand miles from where
I would get some next

In another dark, quiet room
Twice as dark for you
If I knew you still, I'd tell you
That I am broken, too

I am broken, too
And I'm sorry that I broke you

The time has come for honesty
Knowing something was wrong
Has never once stopped me

A quiet talk or a sad expression
Is not the same as an apology
Or a confession

But this is my confession
Two years too late
That I did everything I could
To do everything I could
In ways that no one
Ever should

And this is my confession
Three years too late
That I did not know a thing about love
Except how to spell it
And that it looked good on the page

This is my confession
Four years too late
To the brunette: I was frightened and blind
To the blonde: I have no warmth inside

And I am sorry
But it is not enough
And I am sorry
But it is not enough

And this is my confession
I hope it's on time
I have failed all of you
I am still a cold, broken, dead thing inside

My debts cannot be erased
The love cannot be replaced
No favors owed
I just want to go home
No favors owed

I just wanna go home
I don't wanna be cold
I want to taste your summer
In the back of my throat
And feel like gold light
Summer nights
With a fifty caliber handgun
At my side

My heart is cold
But I am not snow
My heart is cold
But I am not snow
My heart is cold

Please take me home
I don't wanna be cold
I want to taste your summer
In the back of my throat
And feel like gold light
Summer nights
With a fifty caliber handgun
At my side

Tell me lies so I can tell you lies
Tell me lies when you look into my eyes
Tell me why I don't deserve to die
Tell me why, tell me lies

We all deserve to die

"Expiration Date"
(I began writing this a few days after "We All Deserve to Die," but it wasn't finished until the end of March. There's a good chance that some of these lyrics will be re-written in the not-too-distant future.)

Tell me now if you have been issued
An expiration date
In regards to my affections
And if you will still be around
When I crawl back home
Into my blood-soaked cave from the ocean

Let me know when you will be around
And we can both get down
To the sound of the Rolling Stones
I will dance just like Mick Jagger
You will not be impressed when I stumble and stagger

The feeling comes on strong
In the presence of the sun
Will it burn like this when we are one?

We can all learn French
Move down into the Valley
Hold hands in the summer and pretend

That we can make a difference in our own lives
That we can make a difference in our own lives

Drunk driving at seven AM
Calling up old friends
To convince them we are still in love
With the sound of Dr. Dre; NWA
They taught us how to fuck the police

Tell me now if you know what I mean
When I talk about the end of the world
And drowning in the sea
And if you can understand
That I am not a man
But something else entirely

The feeling comes on strong
In the presence of the sun
Will it burn like this when we are one?

You can hold my hand in the sun
Speak to me in dark tongues
I swear to God, you will make a difference

Don't let me lie
Don't let me lie
Don't let me lie

Don't let this be a lie
Don't let this be a lie

"I Will Drink Your Blood, Not Fuck You"
(written during the last week of March. I love this song.)

Let's hate this
God-damned year together
We will show them we will live forever

Let's break them
Into pieces we can
Have on sandwiches outside in the sun

I will drink your blood, not fuck you.
I will drink your blood, not fuck you.
I will drink your blood, not fuck you.
Sucked dry to the bone
I will leave you alone

Let's wait for
Worse weather
We'll take these sweet pills and lie in bed

We can cum
And cum and cum together
We can cum and cum and cum forever

I will drink your blood when I fuck you
I will drink your blood when I fuck you
I will drink your blood when I fuck you
You will give and I will take
Make no mistake

Let's hate this
God-damned year together
Buy guns and get dressed in leather

Let's kill them
And their children
Bathe in blood for the glory of the sun

If I be your shark will you be my remora?
We can live together under the waves
We can hold each other close forever
Until we both succumb
To the sea's sweet embrace

Blood in the water
I can taste it on my tongue
You blood is dark and sweet
Like dessert wine from a fine restaurant

Feed me your heart
I will feed you my liver
Hard as a stone

Feed me your lungs
I will feed you my heart
Black and cold but beautiful like a rose

"Country Boy"
(written at the beginning of the second full week of April, about one week ago. I broke three strings and tore chunks out of my flesh the first time I performed this song for an audience.)

I wrote this song with memories
I know I've never told
All the liars and the demons
Who suck life and blood
From everything I know

They sink their claws in deeper
Begging me to stay at home

It was the end of August
When the thunderheads rolled in
The lightning flashed
We laid in grass
Rain falling on our skin

We were happy then
Can we be happy again?

Like my grandmother told me
When I was twelve
If you don't know what you want
It doesn't matter, anyhow
If you don't know what you want

I'm guaranteed to fall in love
Every time I'm on a plane
It's a simple matter
Don't you see
Of the flight attendants' legs

In their blue pencil skirts
Flyin' across the blue sky all day

One hundred thousand fall in love
As easily as me
All it takes is a pair
Of bright blue eyes
That make it hard to breathe

I'm a country boy
I can't help what pleases me

Like my grandfather told me
On my way out
Be careful what you do
And don't lie to yourself
Or it won't matter anyhow

Gold light has fallen for as long as I've known
On the quiet field next to my country home
I would watch it in the summer while day turned to night
The only thing God gave us was the endless Ohio sky

I am a country boy and I cannot change
But I had to try for my everyone's sake
This city has tried to take my life
So many times but now there's nothing on my mind
Except joy

I am a country boy

"RMS Titanic"
(written the second week of April, because the Titanic sank on my birthday. These lyrics are pretty bland, except the very end, which is something I actually wrote around the beginning of January. The odds are that I'll re-write this as a different song maintaining the same music. Note that the religious lyrics in the middle are from "Nearer, My God, to Thee," supposedly the last song the ship's band played while it was sinking.)

We set sail form Queenstown
It's a fine day
We'll make good time in calm weather
This is the voyage of an age

The miles move behind us
For the next three days
We'll travel nearly one mile
For every soul that won't be save

Be it an iceberg
Or a cruse
Fifteen hundred will still perish
In the freezing north Atlantic waters

I'll break into pieces
And sink into the
Deepest, darkest, coldest place
This world has ever seen

They all dine and dance
On my decks and in my belly
They do not know what's coming
And when it gets here won't believe

They'll refuse to board the lifeboats
I am unsinkable
So they depart half-empty
The ones who remain die like fools

Be it an iceberg
Or a curse
Fifteen hundred wills till perish
In the freezing north Atlantic waters

In the forward lounge
The band still plays
They sing their final song
To the lost light of day

Nearer, my God, to thee
Nearer to thee!
Even though it be a cross
That raiseth me
Still all my song shall be
Nearer to thee!
Nearer, my God
To thee!

Oh, if, on joyful wing
Cleaving the sky
Sun, moon, and stars forgot
Upward I fly
Still all my song shall be
Nearer to thee!
Nearer, my God
To thee!

You raised my spirits
But the ocean is so deep
I'll black out from the pressure change
Before I break the surface of the sea

And become one with the light of the sun
One with the light of the sun
One with the light of the sun
One with the light of the sun

And that is all there is
The sun and the sea
The sky between does not exist
It is not reality

We stand on nothing
There is no Earth beneath our feet
We are the children of the sun
We are drowning in the sea

"Love Does Not Exist"
(the opening was written at the end of March, the same time as "I Will Drink Your Blood, Not Fuck You," but the rest of the song wasn't finished until the second week of April.)

Imagine for a moment
That love does not exist
It it just a myth perpetuated by
Every artist who has ever lived

Imagine this
And feel the world go cold
Meaning catches in my throat
But I just don't want to die alone

I'm dropping out of school
And moving to Portugal
To get married to my gay best friend
It doesn't matter that we won't touch each other
We can both have lovers on the side

It just makes more sense
To be with your best friend 'til the end
As opposed to arbitrarily getting married
At the age of twenty-nine

Even if it all was real
It wouldn't matter in the end
We'll die on separate continents
It's not the first time that this has ever happened

If you want proof positive
Just think of the absurd fucking times when it happens
On the thirty minute train ride to the airport
Or on the stairs leading up to the roof of a parking garage

Love is a ghost that will haunt
Every man, woman, and child until the day they die
I am a ghost and I will
Haunt this town until the blood is dry and crusty

Let's be honest now
We'll pull the same damn shit on everyone
There is no such thing as love
There is only convenience
And accommodation
At the right time in your life

I would say that we should watch "Fern Gully"
But it would just make me wanna have sex
I would say that we should watch "Fern Gully"
But it would just make me wanna have sex

I'll tell you now
Love does not exist
It is just a myth
It's time to start pretending that
I am not an artist
I have lied to everyone
I'll be a dog instead

Has it not occurred to you
That my taste for blood is a result
Of being raised as a hunting dog
I'd carry dying ducks back to my master's truck

He would eat the best of them
Let me nibble on scraps and play with bones
Fuck him and his ugly wife
I ate his liver while he slept

Fuck everyone
Fuck everyone
Fuck everyone
Fuck everyone

We're all in love with the mid-western sun
It burns hotter for us than for anyone
I have spilled my blood and fucked beneath it
But it finally convinced me that

You do not exist
You are a ghost sent here
To freeze my lips
So freeze my lips

"Springtime."
(written Friday, April 13th, while floating/swimming on my back in a mostly empty pool, Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing In the Dark" playing over the not-so-loud speakers, muffled by water.)

Air ducts run above the water
In the quiet of the night
The ripples don't come

Do do do
Do do-do
Do do
Do-do do-do
Do do

Each captain of industry
Is resurrected by the light
But the money won't come

One million strong out across the water
Build our boats from love
To set their ships on fire

Do do do
Do do-do
Do do
Do-do do-do
Do do

I love you more
The longer we're apart
But I don't know
How to tell you that
How to tell you that

Do do do
Do do-do
Do do
Do-do do-do
Do do

White lines slice the atmosphere
In the humming of the spring
The blood won't come

I'll throw her down the stairs
If it's what she wants me to do
To save her from herself
To save her from herself

Do do do
Do do-do
Do do
Do-do do-do
Do do

I love you more
The longer we're apart
But I don't know
How to tell you that
How to tell you that

I'd love you more
If we lived far apart
But I don't know
How to tell you that
How to tell you that

Do do do
Do do-do
Do do
Do-do do-do
Do do

That, as they say, is all she wrote. For now, anyway. There should be a couple stories coming soon and almost certainly more lyrics.

2007-02-25T17:39:00.000-05:00

I have completely and utterly lost my mind.

Eat My Fuck

2007-02-01T23:25:00.000-05:00

RULES.

2007-02-01T17:37:00.000-05:00

Ashley Clinger (5:28:50 PM): um, what did your IM say? i definitely accidently closed out of it.

Auto response from AtomicGhettoBird (5:28:50 PM): bringing sexy back?

Ashley Clinger (5:28:57 PM): haha.. uhh. ok adam.
Me! (5:29:04 PM): TYPE LARGER IF YOU WANT TO TALK
Ashley Clinger (5:29:10 PM): oh i see
Ashley Clinger (5:29:30 PM): so i can basically send you the message, " i don't want to talk " by not increasing my font size.
Me! (5:29:40 PM): that's right
Ashley Clinger (5:29:53 PM): i like this new power
Ashley Clinger (5:31:16 PM): so you're really gonna deny ashley clinger of conversation because she doesn't increase her font size?
Me! (5:34:03 PM): yes, goodbye until your font is large
Ashley Clinger (5:34:24 PM): haha.. okay, bye adam. i'll miss you.

Hello Tomorrow

2006-09-10T01:47:00.000-05:00

First and foremost, I love Stradley Hall and my incredible staff. I'm working with the most glorious people. I can't wait for the freshmen to move in and for the year to get started.

Second, I will honest to God finish posting my European journals very very soon, in addition to making a legitimate update about my life.

Third, my new song:

We walk the streets
The joints and steel bend to the beat
As we fall back asleep
Forgetting the secrets we used to keep

We pay no mind
Ignoring all the warning signs
Passing up on history
Because the past just makes it hard to breathe

The circus still comes to town
To give us the chance to become clowns
The circus still comes to town
The past won't matter when we hear that sound

Towers don't fall
Of their own accord
And the blackest smoke you've ever seen
Billows in through open doors

A child's voice
Echoes out through the storm
"I pray it doesn't happen again
Mama never told me about war"

But this will not define us
It will serve only to remind us
Of the love we have, and fail to share
With all our wasted breaths of recycled air

My brothers, they are not free
Am I the only one who sees?
Worldwide, they call out to me
Across space-time and the endless sea

I burn buildings down
My bombs drop without a sound
And the circus still comes to town
We all join hands and gather around

I burn buildings down
I will bury your sons deep under the ground
But the circus still comes to town
And you will take my hand, we're heaven bound
The circus still comes to town
You will take my hand when you hear that sound
The circus still comes to town
Our heads would be in the sand
But the past is buried under the ground

- "The Circus Still Comes to Town"

Let me know what you think.

The end of summer.

2006-08-30T00:42:00.000-05:00

Someday I will finish typing my European journals. Someday soon. No one will read them, but I will have them forever within my electronic grasp.

Today, something that I knew to be inevitable, yet never expected to face (sort of like death, ironically), came to pass.

Most of you have probably noticed my madness this summer. The way my mind has slowly shifted, gears grinding, eyes twitching. The way that I have changed. The way that I have seemingly spiraled into my own world, outside the door. Some of you haven't noticed anything so extreme. Some of you may not have really noticed, just thought I was being a little more wild than usual. Some of you (Chase, certainly) knew the full extent of what was happening. I don't think anyone knew the severity, though, myself included.

I'm still not sure what all this has stemmed from. I can pin-point certain things that helped catapult it further, that moved it along, but I can't say how, or when, it began.

Fear, really, is the root of it all.

A few weeks after coming back from Europe I realized that my life had stopped moving forward. For years I was constantly progressing and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly, horribly, that that was not longer the case. That I had stopped growing, moving, expanding. I had sunken wearily into listlessness. I was furious with myself upon realizing it, and terrified that I wouldn't be able to find a way to re-ignite my spirit. I tried desperately, putting myself back into the things I loved, things that I had stopped doing: reading, writing, making music.

And it worked. I moved. I continued to move. I am moving.

But I am perpetually terrified of that void. That awful, painful, infuriating hole that rises up like a creature from the depths as you float along, oblivious to what is happening until it is far too late. Until you have been swallowed whole and dragged to the deepest depths of the sea. The rise from such a depth is no easy thing.

I'm not talking about depression. I'm talking about losing contact with life. With the things that give you life. I'm talking about drowning.

It would seem that I have managed to create fire again, to create life. But as all this happened I became, for no solid reason that I can find, terrified of death and obsessed with my terror.

Death. The one thing that none of us can avoid. The one thing that terrifies. The one thing I truly fear.

But am I really afraid of dying? No. I'm afraid of what happens after. I'm afraid that there is oblivion. Nothing. Emptiness. That, just as logic would imply, we go out like a candle and nothing that had ever come to pass during our life will ever really mean anything, because we are nothing but a flicker. I'm afraid that we truly are a collective consciousness and that what I am now, who I am now, will dissipate forever. Spread across eternity like water evaporating from the ocean. There will be no awareness of being, not in the sense of being human.

I don't believe in God. I don't believe in a being that has created our world, our universe, and I certainly don't believe that any such being does, will, could, or would have any right to judge anyone.

I wish that I did. I wish that there was some great, holy being waiting to judge or forgive my sins, opening the door to eternal paradise or eternal hell. I'd take either, as long as I can be myself. As long as I can continue to exist. I don't want to taste oblivion. I don't want to be so cold. But I can't believe in that kind of magic. In those flights of fancy.

I wish, truly, that my mother's nearly inane babblings were true. That after death we all cross over, becoming our true selves again, beings who have lived a hundred lifetimes, learning, loving, growing and glowing with energy. That the paradise in which we live is just like the earth, before it was ever touched by man's damning hands. That I would see all my kindred spirits and we would be together in joy, that I would plan out my next life before I went, working out all the intricacies. I hope that when I die that is what I will find. But I can't bring myself to really believe it. Everything is magic.

I have decided that the human mind will take care of itself. That if all that awaits us is oblivion then we will live forever within our minds in the moments before death an eternity trapped truly within a few seconds. Apparently the film Waking Life explores this concept. I've never seen it. I'd like to. Maybe it would comfort me.

Lately my fear of death has come to occupy my thoughts whenever my head is empty, so I've tried to keep myself occupied. Errands, movies, music, friends, anything to keep my mind moving. But amidst my terror, a part of me has come to accept that everything will die and that if all this means nothing then that's ok because it has to be. Because it can't be anything else. I think now, after today, most of me accepts the fact that whatever happens will happen, there is no derivation, no alternatives, and so everything will be fine, because it can't be anything but.

I was driving to Columbus this evening, between seven and eight o'clock. I didn't shower today and so I felt kind of disgusting. The sun was rounding the curve, heading down the straight away for the horizon's finish line, and I put on Johnny Cash. It was his new album, I'd had the song "On the Evening Train" stuck in my head all last night, but never listened to it because last night was so joyous and frantic (the best way to describe a Flaming Lips show.) But as I turned onto the highway, I put the song on, dying to hear that melody, to hear those words.

As the first notes rang, I could feel something in my chest, something swelling up, screaming to get out, and as Cash began to sing it burst forth, roaring from the surface. I cried and cried and cried and cried. All the way to Columbus, I cried, the song echoing over and over in my mind.

"I heard the laughter at the depot
But my tears fell like the rain
When I saw them place that long white casket
In the baggage coach of the evening train

The baby's eyes are red from weepin'
Its little heart is filled with pain
'Oh, daddy,' it cried, 'they're taking momma
Away from us on the evening train'

As I turned to walk away from the depot
It seemed I heard her call my name
'Take care of my baby and tell him, darling
That I'm going home on the evening train'

I pray that God will give me courage
To carry on 'til we meet again
It's hard to know she's gone forever
They're carryin' her home on the evening train

I pray that God will give me courage
To carry on 'til we meet again
It's hard to know she's gone forever
They're carryin' her home on the evening train

They're carryin' her home on the evening train"

The only time I've cried harder was when my grandma died, when I was twelve.

But as I cried, I could see everything spread out in front of me. Everything that hurt me. All of my faults. The hundred-thousand ways I've withdrawn my love from the people that deserve it. I could see my grandfather's face, weak, lonely, in his chair by the window with a cross-word puzzle and primetime television.

Did he ever expect it to be like this? Did he ever expect the end of his life to be so awfully lonely? So awfully boring? And so hard because of it?

I'm afraid to love him anymore because he's going to die. He's going to die before everyone else I love, extenuating circumstances excluded, and so I pull myself away. I leave him in his little house with no one, with nothing.

I'm afraid to love my mother because I don't believe her mind is her own. I believe she's too far gone into her own world to ever really come back to this one. She's somewhere else. Someone else. And so am I.

I shut myself out. I cut myself off. This love I have to give. So much love inside of me. And I just keep turning off the valves. Disconnecting the pipes. Tear it down, boys, this old steamer's no good anymore.

But I won't let this happen, not anymore. I can't. If everything in this world, everything and everyone I know and love is all going to fade into absolute oblivion then there is nothing worth doing except giving as much love as I can while I am here. Everything is a waste if love cannot be given, if it cannot be felt. It is the only thing to be done, the only way to leave any mark, however fleeting. If this is all we get, then I want it to be as joyous for everyone in the world as it possibly can be.

I don't want you to hurt. I don't want you to cry. I don't want you to be lonely. I don't want you to be sad. I don't want you to starve or suffer or kill or die or hate. But I can't stop you from doing these things. From feeling that way. The only thing I can do is love you. The only thing I can ever ask of you is to love someone else. To give the love that you receive to someone, anyone, no matter how fleeting it may be. Love is money and I will make you rich. I will make everyone rich.

I want the world to glow like gold with love. I would die for that. For everyone to know the glory of love.

I will not shut you out anymore. I will not let you sit idly by the window. I will not let you exist in your own world, one free of your son. I will not let you dwell in misery. I will not let you spiral into darkness. I will not let you drift away. I will not let you drown. I will give you love. I will give you love. I will give you love. I will give you love.

I will fly, I will move, I will progress, I will breathe, I will bleed, I will cry, I will scream. I will be alive. I will love.

That is all I want. That is all I have. That is all I could ever be.

The cage door is open and I have set myself free.

Burnt Out

2006-07-10T15:25:00.000-05:00

Before you all get your titties in a whirl, I'll tell you now that I'm still off the continent. I'm in London (HOO-WAH), but I'm flying home tomorrow. I'm supposed to arrive around 11PM-midnight, after a SIX HOUR LAY-OVER IN WASHINGTON, but we'll see about that. The point of this post is to update on everything up until Europe:

1) I work at the Happy Greek in the Gateway. Come in. Get the Tzatziki (sp?) and anything involving sea-food. It won't be as good as it is in Barcelona, but it'll be some of the best you can get in Columbus, for said price-range. Also, the man who trained me, Robert Lawson, is one of the most amazing people to ever exist in this world. I am proud and honored to call him a friend. If I had the means to post a picture of him with this public computer, I would, but I don't, and so, it shall wait.

2) There is no number two. Nothing else happened between the end of school and my departure from North America except Peter moving to Baltimore. Which sucks. Also, David and my mother may or may not have split up for good. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised either way, nor can I say how much I would care, given that my mother is happy with the decision.

3) My next post will be my complete, unedited (except for grammatical/spelling errors) journals from Europe. Currently, that ranks at around 40 hand-written pages, chronicling my entire journey, and moving, seemingly randomly, from wild, non-sensical lists, to generic vacation summation, to deep, rambling introspection. I'll be finishing up the rest of my writings for it tonight and tomorrow in transit and maybe a final bit when I get home.

The real reason for this post? I'm too worn out from being crazy these last two days in London (I didn't waste any fucking time, that's for sure) to really go out, but it's too early to really go to bed. So, this is what I do. I make a generally pointless post, but it prevents from having to preface my journals with this nonsense.

I'll see you all when I arrive in the homeland.

Oh, by the way, the reason I haven't called anyone is that my cellphone doesn't work here. Cingular told my mother and I three (COUNT 'EM), THREE TIMES that it would work, no problem, just take it with me. I get here, it doesn't work, she contacts them, and they say, "Oh, well, you have to bring it in so we can rub our dicks on it before you go to Europe."

THANKS FOR TELLING ME THAT BEFORE I FLEW A COUPLE THOUSAND MILES ACROSS THE WORLD YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.

I think it's time to change servers.

To Shannon: I ran with the bulls and am alive. I did nearly get gored by an ANGRY COW, though. The bulls were calm and beautiful.

To Vanes[s]a: I LOVE YOU. I MISS YOU. I WILL DIE WHEN I SEE YOU.

To Everyone Else I Love (you know who you are, fools): I miss you all. When I return, person-appropriate activities must ensue in celebration of our various reunions.

To Chase (who also love): I hope Dover has ceased his constant defecation. If not, I have a bottle of Irish Whiskey that will at least make it not matter anymore.

GOD SPEED and GOOD NIGHT.

Sweat

2006-05-31T12:56:00.000-05:00

My hair is melting. I'm not kidding. All of my body's functions are slowly shutting down as a result of this overwhelming, inescapable heat. I lie in bed at night, bathing in saline, unable to dream. When I do manage to escape consciousness it's only for two or three hours at a time, and those hours are plagued by the most bizarre dreams. Last night, I dreamt that I was a young Bruce Wayne, welcoming guests to a party at my mansion. Then for some reason, I was racing my dark-haired lover down a long dock reaching out into a lake in front of my mansion. We leapt over a missing board like the finest of hurdlers. Tragically, she landed strangely and fell into the lake. As I leapt in after her, a plane resembling the X-Men's "Blackbird" descended to pick me up. I then went off to battle a man shooting rockets on top of a parking garage/freeway exit ramp. I was captured by Jack Black and put in a holding cell. I convinced his secretary to let me escape, and so I crawled up into the ceiling to freedom. Later, I did all of this again but I was playing a video-game. I also beat up bullies at a high school and hid in a secret underground room during lunch. I am insane.

I'm ready for school to end solely because I desire the comfort of a cool living situation. The heat is seriously getting to me. I did not get hired as an RA but there is a good chance that I will. So, I wait. Hopefully I will be hired by fall, if not, I will be commuting (yuck).

If you pray, pray for me to get a job at Mad Mex. And as an RA. If not, stab someone in the chest so a position opens up.

I am going to die today.

Godspeed.

How to Win Friends and Influence People

2006-05-24T18:59:00.000-05:00

I refuse to tell you fools anything about my life except this:

June 28, I leave for Spain. I am traveling to Barcelona, Pamplona (where I will run with the bulls), and San Sebastian. On July 10 I fly from Barcelona to London where I will have 28 hour lay-over. That's just long-enough to get drunk and see a couple things.

Also, I wrote a new song.

"Youth, Above All, Will Triumph"

Time stops
It won't start again
Your skin's the sick color
Of our quiet sin

All of reality
Falls aside
In favor of the knife

We said
You can't bring us back
We said
You can't bring us back

Don't bother trying to escape from the flames
They will burn your throat with the taste of a name
Don't bother waiting for your heart to beat
The kids are on fire and the sky is inside me

Worlds turn
And collide
The sea opens up
To swallow God's great lie

Children, raise your hands now
Finger-paint the clouds
Then pull them down

We said
You can't bring us back
We said
You can't bring us back

This is the lie: the last dying embers are here inside

This is the light: the beauty of youth against the fallen sky

Don't bother trying to escape from the flames
They will burn your throat with the taste of a name
Don't bother waiting for your heart to beat
The kids are on fire and the sky is inside me"

Riverbend. Etc.

Ghetto Bird

2006-04-25T13:32:00.000-05:00

Ghetto bird, watch me fly away
Back to Mars and outer-space
Ghetto bird, watch me fly away
East, not West, to somewhere safe

Ghetto bird, in the mountains of Spain
You won't find me I can get away
Ghetto bird, on the London streets
You can't catch me I'll be on my feet

Send me a post-card from sweet Barcelona
And tell me all about the things I can't see
When you come home, no one is left to find you
Don't you know that you've been set free?

Ghetto bird, watch me fly away
On the tarmac I push down the pain
Ghetto bird, watch me fly away
I've come to find no reason to stay

Ghetto bird, see the bodies in the streets?
Their blood will was away all my evil deeds
Ghetto bird, hear the turbines spin?
Their blades will cut away all your youthful sin

Say good-bye through six inches of plastic
Dreams in your eyes of the things you'll soon see
You'll never come back, what did I tell you?
Spread your wings, let the fire breathe

Ghetto bird, I see you fly away

Bitches Ain't Shit

2006-04-07T02:28:00.000-05:00

Now it's time for the three exercises from non-fiction, two of which are complete pieces. This first one is actually the second exercise we did in which we were supposed to create a composite scene from several similar events (i.e. an essay on Christmas with your family that contains elements from several Christmas dinners to make the story more definitive). I chose the visits I have paid my grandfather since school started as my subject.

Home

I put the car in park, lean back, and take a deep breath. This is the first time I’ve come home to see my grandfather since I started college three months ago and, despite loving him and knowing that I should miss him, I have absolutely no desire to get out of this car. I can tell from the way his voice shakes on the phone and the things my mother tells me that he’s having a hard time adjusting to me being gone, but I really do not want to go into the house and see him. I don’t miss him at all. I don’t miss my mother, either, and I don’t know why. I feel bad about it because I know that I should miss them, I should want to see them, and I should be excited to go home and talk to them, but I just can’t bring myself to care.

Sitting here, eyes closed in what I can no longer bring to call my driveway, I can’t escape the drowning feeling I’ve had since I got back to this half-horse town. My mother tries to tell me that the city is squelching my energy, silencing my voice, but I think it’s this place that’s doing it. My “home”. I feel so lost and alone here now.

I finally kill the ignition and get out of the car. I look out across the field adjacent to our yard. The frozen, snow-covered ground doesn’t keep from remembering the gorgeous golden color of that field in the summer. I take another deep breath, filling myself with the crisp air. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

As I enter my old house, I see exactly what I expected to see: my grandfather sitting in his chair by the window, bathed in the amber light of his ancient lamp, working on a cross-word puzzle and half-watching “Law & Order”. He looks up at me as I come in the door with a look of true surprise. He fumbles to put his cross-word aside and quickly get up from his chair saying, “Well, Hell, how are ya?”

“I’m good, Pop,” I say as he embraces me. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, about half. Heh, that wind’s really gettin’ to me,” he says, settling back into his chair.

“Yeah, it’s got one helluva bite,” I say, sitting down on the edge of the couch. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and folding my hands together.

“Didn’t think I was ever gonna see ya again, you been gone so damn long and I’ve hardly heard from ya.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been really busy with classes and the hall council and stuff.”

“So you’re gettin’ along ok, then?”

“Yeah, things are going really great.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Have you had your supper? There’s some chili in the fridge and some orange juice if you’re thirsty. Do you want me to get you something?”

“No, that’s ok. I just ate about an hour ago.”

“Oh. Ok.”

I realize that I still have my coat on, fully buttoned, and I can’t decide whether or not to take it off. I don’t know how much longer I can stay here, having this meaningless conversation without any idea of how to make it matter. I know that I should take off my coat, if only for symbolic purposes, but if I do take it off I’ll feel obliged to stay longer than I want to. If I don’t take it off, though, this whole encounter will seem to my grandfather like a half-assed, and half-hearted, visit. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what it is. I decide to leave my coat on.

“So how’ve you been feeling? Mom said you were kinda sick last week.”

“Oh, I been alright. Just got a little bug last week was all,” he says.

“Well, that’s good.”

We sit in a silence for a few moments while my brain catches fire. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t care about anything he has to say to me. I get up, go across the house to my old room, and dig through my desk in an effort to find something I might care enough about to take with me so he’ll think the real point of my visit is whatever I emerge from this room with. Maybe then it won’t hurt so much. I settle for a stack of old CDs, take them, and decide it’s time to say my goodbyes.

I walk back into the living room, CDs in my arms, and say, “I think I’m gonna take off.”

“Oh,” he says, face sinking, “alright. Well, be careful and I reckon I’ll see ya later.”

“I will. I’ll see you later, Pop,” and with that I’m out the door.

I open the door of my car, toss the CDs in, climb in, and fire the ignition. I look out across my neighbor’s yard, the field out back, and the field across the street. Not even six months ago I loved this place. As much one can, anyway. It was my home. I felt safe here. This place was the one constant that was guaranteed in my life, but now even that is gone. All the affection I had for this place, all the warmth and love it conjured, is lost to me forever now. I lean back, take a deep breath, and put the car in reverse.

I wrote that in about an hour, so I feel like it needs a lot more work and attention. Anyway, this next one is just an exercise where we were supposed to write for about twenty minutes starting every sentence with the words "I can't remember" and, obviously, follow them with something that we can't remember.

I can’t remember the way it sounded when my grandmother said, “I love you.” I can’t remember where my family used to go camping two or three times a year. I can’t remember all of the different places my grandmother and I went on our “mini-vacations”, which were just two or three day trips done over weekends during school or anytime in the summer. I can’t remember the first time I got high. I can’t remember the first time I drank. I can’t remember what the second full song my guitar instructor taught me was. I can’t remember how old I was when we went to Tennessee. I can’t remember if, during that trip, it was my mother or my grandmother who was confined to a wheelchair. I can’t remember the first time I heard the Velvet Underground. I can’t remember whether or not my mom dated anyone between Tyrone and Colleene. I can’t remember how old I was when my mom’s best friend, Robin, and her two sons, my friends Matthew and Anthony, moved to Florida. I can’t remember the name of the teacher who scolded me on the playground in second grade for saying the word “damn”. I can’t remember why I used to hate the Smiths. I can’t remember where significant amounts of money have gone in my life. I can’t remember the first time I went swimming. I can’t remember where my family was when, swimming in the hotel pool, I saw my grandfather’s bare legs and realized just how old he was. I can’t remember where we were fishing when I used gummi bears as bait. I can’t remember how old I was when I kissed the worm before putting it on my hook and reeled in the biggest fish I’ve ever caught. I can’t remember at what point I realized it was almost impossible for me to identify with the people in my town. I can’t remember how old I was when Matt, Phil, and I waded two miles up the creek outside Canal Winchester just to find a better fishing spot. I can’t remember how old I was when I realized that I couldn’t stand to watch football because it bored me. I can’t remember the first time I met Bryce Laughlin. I can’t remember the first time I met Chris Yonker. I can’t remember the name of my first grade-school crush, a cheerleader who left my school in third grade. I can’t remember at what point I stopped hanging out with my neighbors. I can’t remember why I was so angry just before and at the beginning of high school. I can’t remember whether or not Chelsea Ball transferred to a different school senior year. I can’t remember how late in her senior year Jean Stokes dropped out. I can’t remember the books that my freshmen English teacher, Abigail Duffy, told me over and over to read once I was in college. I can’t remember the first time I drove a car.

Interesting. Ok, this last piece was actually what I wrote for our first exercise but it's my favorite thing I've produced for a class, so far. It's a complete piece. The assignment was to take scene of the upmost importance in our lives and describe the scene with as much detail and fidelity as possible.

Rocket-Limo

I was so young when it happened, five, maybe, that I have trouble remembering all the details but I remember the important ones: the stale smell of my mother’s Hyundai, my red jacket, the cool night air (was it early spring or late fall?), and the white limousine, Hot Wheels brand, with a sickly yellow sunroof.

My mom had asked me if I wanted to go to Sears with her. I don’t remember why she was going, but I was excited because it meant that would get to stay up past my bedtime. And I loved Sears. They seemed to have everything: clothes, tires, bikes, toys, televisions, stereos, and countless items I couldn’t hope to identify at my age.

I put on my red jacket, my favorite jacket, to get ready. It was the kind of jacket that you only ever see little kids and old men wear. It had huge buttons down the front that were supposed to be the exact same color as the fabric but for whatever reason there was always some discrepancy. The cuffs, bottom, and collar were all that semi-elastic, sweater-type material again intended to be the same color as the rest of the jacket but with a white stripe. It was the only jacket I ever wore until I outgrew it sometime after leaving kindergarten.

Just before we walked out the door, my mom asked me if I wanted to bring any toys. She was still so young. So thin. Her hair was cut short, shorter in the back than on top. She wore obnoxiously large rimmed glasses that, upon seeing in pictures now, I can’t help but laugh at. There was something so different about her then. She’s lost something since then. Her dreams, I think.

I grabbed the first toy that I saw, a white, Hot Wheels limousine, my favorite for that week or day but never again. I liked it so much because it had a spoiler on the back that, in my young mind, meant it was capable of flight. My miniature, stretch rocket-limo.

The next thing I can remember clearly is sitting in my mother’s car, a two door, metallic grey Hyundai. She had run back inside to get something she’d forgotten. I sat there, inhaling the scent of the car, which fell somewhere between fallen leaves and stale bread. I always believed that the origin of the smell was the coarse, brown substance that collected in the corners of the floor-board and the cracks in the seat. You couldn’t dig for change in the seat without getting some stuck under your nails.

As I sat there quietly, I fidgeted with my limousine, imagining the journey it would take through Sears. It would run up the sides of shelving units and leap from TV box to TV box, propelled by the rocket engine hidden in its tail-pipe. I couldn’t wait to explore all the suburban necessities that Sears had to offer my young eyes.

My mom came back out with whatever it was that she’d forgotten and we were on our way. Or so we thought. As she backed the car away from the garage, Tyrone, her live-in boyfriend, came running out of the house. This was the first time I saw another man naked. I couldn’t tell you what was so imperative that he couldn’t put on pants before he came outside or why it couldn’t wait until we got back. I don’t think I’ve ever known what brought him out of the house that night.

The next thing I can remember took place several minutes later. I was outside of the car, standing next to the basketball hoop at the top of the driveway. It was not yet the rusted, grey pole that stands there today, but a vibrant sky blue, the color of the cigars they sell in hospital gift shops. I stood, my hands clutched at my mouth, sobbing. Fifteen feet away, Tyrone was beating my mother.

He stood over her, leaning down and slamming her into the ground over and over again saying, “Damn you piss me off. Damn you piss me off. Damn you piss me off,” and for the brief period that I can recall, that’s all he said. I can still see my mother’s body slamming into the ground, her head bouncing out of synch with her body, like a rag doll. I remember thinking that I should do something, that I shouldn’t let someone hurt my mom. I remember thinking of throwing rocks from the driveway at him. All I did was stand there and cry.

After that, my next memory is of being at my grand-parent’s house. Tyrone followed us and there was yelling outside. My grandfather talked about getting his shotgun. There were phone-calls to the police and tears and the quiet darkness of my room there.

Nowhere in my memory can I recall the limousine beyond those few moments I waited in my mother’s car. It wasn’t with me at my grand-parent’s house and I don’t have any distinct memories of it after that night.

Two or three years ago, I came across the limousine in my mom’s house. I was digging around beyond her unnecessarily monstrous computer desk one late afternoon when I found it half-buried in the mass of books, papers, and junk that clutter the generally inaccessible corners of the room. I remembered the tiny car instantly, the way that I thought it could fly opening and closing the sickly yellow sunroof, dreams of TV boxes and house-wares, and the angry, frightened helplessness of that night so long ago.

I sat there moving the car around in my hands, opening and closing the sunroof, and remembering that night. It was a memory that had been all but lost to me. I can’t say for sure that I had forgotten about it but I certainly hadn’t thought about it in a long, long time. I replayed that night over and over in my mind. Every time, my chest got heavier and heavier. My heart sank with the evening sun.

I considered putting the car in one of the boxes of my old toys that still lingered in the garage, waiting for the Wednesday express to the Salvation Army. I thought about just throwing it out. Instead, I tossed the car back into the pile of nothing from whence it came.

I still see it around the computer room every once in a while. Sometimes it sits on the shelf of old books, other times I find it again in the rummage behind the desk. Every time I come across it I consider tossing it out but for some reason I don’t. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just meant to linger.

Pretty heavy stuff. I think I did a halfway decent job of it, though. Let me know what you think.

God speed and good night.

This'll be the last time I ever do your hair.

2006-04-05T14:00:00.000-05:00

Since I'm taking two writing courses (Fiction & Non-Fiction), I've decided to post the work I do for each class here, along with a brief summary of the assignment.

This first post will be the two exercises I've done for my fiction class. Honestly, I feel like I sort of half-assed them. This was the first assignment for my fiction class. The option I selected was to come up with three settings and three emotional states, pair them up, and describe the setting through the eyes of a character in said emotional state.

1. The Oval on a bright, sunny and warm spring day as seen by a character in a state of desperate anger.

It’s the sun that I hate the most. I hate it because I can’t get away from it. It sears the sky, so big and bright, illuminating everything. You can’t hide from the sun. Not really.

After the sun, it has to be the people. They scurry about, going to class or work or home, or they sprawl out on the ground basking in the ever-present sunlight. Even the ones I watch emerge from building with looks of despair turn their eyes to the sky when they get into the open. Their eyes twinkle and the slightest smile flickers across their faces. They just love the sun, but why? What good is the sun doing?

I feel like I can watch the chloroplasts harvesting the sun’s energy, pushing more of that harsh, sharp grass up from the soil and spreading more foliage out from the trees, making the home of those godforsaken squirrels that much more plush.

How can all of these plants dare to keep growing? How can all these people dare to keep moving? Out here in the light, every flaw, every failure, every bad decision, everything awful about all of us is illuminated for the entire world to see. Just look at that big, goofy statue. Oxley’s bald head shines like a second star. Don’t they understand how much better off we’d all be in the dark? In the dark, we could avoid the smiles when we don’t want to see them and the laughter when we don’t want to hear it. That smell of spring, of growth and life, would be smothered from our memories. We could even hide from ourselves. Don’t they see? If we could just escape the sun then I think we would be alright.

2. A snow-covered corn-field far out in the country on a cold, winter day as seen by a character that is quietly, nervously determined.

Goddamn, it is cold out here. Absolutely frigid and it’s only worse when the wind blows, slicing my bones with invisible razorblades. The chill is appropriate I suppose.

Squatting low to the ground, I fidget with the remnants of what was, months ago, a cornstalk. Beyond my dead playmate, the field stretches out almost endlessly. The tree line opposite my own seems so far away, like part of some other world that could never make contact with this one. A part of me wishes that were the truth, but I know that soon enough two men will come sliding through the branches and I will do what I have come to do. There are no alternatives left.

There are a good four inches of snow blanketing the field that spills out from my small, hidden corner. The corpses of cornstalks poke up through the snow like broken gravestones. A thin sheet of ice glistens on top of the powder, making for painfully loud and obvious tracks in the snow. It is by no means a clear day, but, like most winter days, the sky looks like a thin, grey blanket backlit by floodlights. The ice reflects the sky, creating that painful winter glare. The advantage is that they won’t think much of the shimmer across the field until it’s too late.

The harsh wind shakes the opposite tree-line, making my heart jump into my throat. My body tenses, ready for action, until I realize it is just the wind. I try to slow my heart-beat down but instead it works its way into my head. All I can hear over the pounding in my ears is the shriek of the wind through the trees.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I must remain calm.

I open my eyes. Two men are slowly emerging from the trees across the field.

The steel pressed against my palm is cold. My heart is colder.

3. A small, secluded lake during sunset at the end of summer as seen by a character overwhelmed with feelings of nostalgia and sorrow.

The setting sun paints the sky a fading golden-pink color, making the clouds look like they’ve been sponged onto the heavens. This is surely the last day of summer and the sun is setting in an appropriately dramatic way. Its arms stretch across the water, reflecting off the tiny ripples that echo from shore to shore. The glare makes it hard to clearly see anything happening in or across the water but it’s not bad enough to make my eyes hurt. The lake looks like a pool of gold, the same color as her hair.

How many nights did we spend out here just getting high with our friends or curled up next to each other with no company but the lake? It saw everything this year, everything that really mattered, anyway. Can I blame all the things that happened, good and bad, on this little lake? It looks so gorgeous now, so serene. I can’t imagine its intentions being anything but good.

I can hear the crickets already, even though the sun hasn’t set yet. Their calls echo through the trees and across the water. Two dragonflies dance in the fading light just off-shore. A mating dance, I’m sure, one last hurrah in the eyes of the last falling sun of the last summer that’ll ever mean a damn thing.

As the sun snuggles into bed, the world turns the ashy blue color of the time between sunset and true night. The glare is gone from the lake’s calm surface but there is enough light left that I can see the trees across the water. The fireflies are out, burning like a thousand tiny lamps trying to light my way. I follow them up to the top of the oldest tree, the one that reaches out over the water and to the sky. Even in this fading light I can see the branch that she broke a little more than halfway up, its shattered stump thrusting out over the water.

They tell me that she blacked out on the way down and was unconscious when she hit the water. They tell me that it was peaceful, like going to sleep. They don’t mention the nasty scrape up the front of here neck or the rope that was tied to the broken branch. They haven’t considered that maybe she was awake when she hit the water, maybe even after she hit the water. They don’t speculate about the possibility that she decided, upon falling into the water, that one way was as good as another. They don’t consider these things, and neither do I.

So there those are. I don't know how I feel about them really. There are parts of each I like and plenty that I don't. So it goes with shady writing exercises!

This, the second exercise, was meant to be a dialogue between two characters. In the dialogue, one character asks for something the other is reluctant to give, but there is supposed to be a clear sub-text that the beggar is asking for something less physical and more emotional (i.e. a daughter asking her mother for money to buy new shoes is really asking for her mother's love or some bullshit like that). I titled this piece because it entertained me to do so. It is equally half-assed and mediocre.

Leaving On a Jet-plane

“Do you have your ticket,” Dane asks from the kitchen table.

Julia glides from the bedroom to the bathroom of their small apartment saying, “Yes, it’s in my purse.”

“Double check before you leave. What time are you leaving, exactly?”

“In ten or fifteen minutes. Whenever the cab gets here.”

“Mmm.”

Julia stands in front of the bathroom mirror, layering her conservative but effective make-up. Her eyes bustle with the flurry of thoughts about the coming two weeks that speed through her mind. Suddenly her eyes settle and she turns her head to peer over her shoulder.

“Do you mind if I take you lap-top with me? I don’t know if I’ll be able to find any computers to use.”

Not even glancing up from the morning paper, Dane says, “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

“Why? You’ll still have the PC in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, but I don’t really like to write at home. I’d rather go out to the park or something and be among people.”

“Well, couldn’t you just use a pen and paper to write? I mean, you don’t absolutely need a computer to write. You could just type it all up later on.”

At this point, Julia is standing at the bathroom door, looking at Dane in the kitchen as he finally sets his paper down and turns to face her.

“Honey, you know that once I really get going my hand-writing becomes indecipherable even to me. I don’t want to run the risk of losing good ideas to poor penmanship. Anyway, I’m sure your hotel will have a computer you can use, and if not then one of your co-workers will.”

“They might, but I can’t be sure. And I don’t really think you need it all that much. You could live without it for two weeks.”

“You’re wrong, I really do need it. It has all my work on it. Without it here I wouldn’t be able to revise or submit anything and writing new material would become a hassle. I’d hardly have anything to do with me time.”

The phone begins to ring.

“That’ll be the cab. You’d better answer so they don’t leave you here.”

“Do you really think you’ll miss it that much?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll leave it here. God only knows what I’ll do on my flight, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Dane says, turning back to the paper.

Julia watches the back of his neck for a moment and feels her chest tighten. The next ring of the phone pulls her back to reality and she reaches out a hand to make sure it doesn’t ring again.

In case you didn't pick up on it, the idea is that she wants reassurance that her husband/boyfriend will miss her while she's gone. My next post will be the exercises for non-fiction.

God speed.

Hello, sunshine.

2006-03-31T16:21:00.000-05:00

Spring has arrived! Praise the Heavens!

So my classes this quarter are pretty much really sweet. Let me break it down for you.

Monday & Wednesday
Italian 151: Literature and Culture of the Medieval & Renaissance Periods (10:30-12:18)
English 265: Writing of Creative Fiction (3:30-5:18)
WITH VANESA!

Tuesday
English 268: Writing of Creative Non-Fiction (3:30-5:18) WITH VANESA!

Friday
RA Class (1:30-4:00) WITH GABRIEL!

Everyday
Italian 103 (12:30-1:18) with the greatest Italian teacher of all time.

And every warm day is summer camp on the Oval. SWEET ASS.

I had lunch with Karen Holbrook today. She kind of copped out of her speech to us but she seemed like a nice lady.

Tonight: PRACTICE and then date night. Eddie George's Grill (?) and Thank You For Smoking. And sometime this weekend I am watching Crash, goddammit.

I will post the work from my writing classes later.

God speed.

2/4

2006-03-19T02:52:00.000-05:00

I wrote this tonight. It has no title. It needs no title. Nor does it need explanation.

The cold air bites my hand
One in my pocket
And the phone to my ear

Somewhere the crowd roars

Through the cold I can’t feel much
Just the emptiness in my chest
Something I haven’t felt in so long

I can hear your voice across the frequencies
You sound so tired and cold and alone
You sound just like me

I know I tell you I’ll be there soon
Three days is no time at all
And it’s not, that’s true
But time is something different now
Time will never be the same again
Not for as long as we both shall live

Time speeds up and time slows down
And there’s never enough
There will never be enough

And all I can do is miss you

This is killing me.

Vanes[s]a

2006-03-16T00:28:00.000-05:00

So I've become ridiculously sappy. Vanes[s]a's been gone for nine hours and already it kills. *sad face* Damn, I miss her. I can't wait to see her again.

How BRYON demanded that I post more often and why sweet bass lines make my pants tight.

2006-03-12T17:32:00.000-05:00

OH SHIT. I HAVEN'T POSTED IN SO LONG.

Ok, so here's the deal: today is the Sunday before finals week. I only have two finals as I took my other one. My Italian final is tomorrow and I intend to do some studying for it tomorrow. My International Studies final is Thursday and it's going to eat my soul. The point is: my sanity is lost. I'm retardedly hyperactive and insane. I want to run around in circles and ride a dolphin to the moon. Why? BECAUSE THEY HAPPEN TO HAVE VERY LOVELY BEACHES ON THE MOON.

It would seem that I haven't posted in a while. I'm not sure how long, exactly, because I refuse to open up my blog in another window to see my last post or do anything at all besides write this post and listen to Third Eye Blind (THANK YOU, MIKE!). No, really, thank you. No sarcasm. They're so perfect for today. PERFECT.

Probably Cyborgs has a new song! It is tasty and delicious much like Wendy's Buffalo Ranch sauce!

Yesterday was Vanes[s]a and I's two month anniversary. We ate at Mad Mex (delicious and spicy but it catches up with you) and saw Transamerica, which was exceptional. The acting was great and it was an all around spectacular and emotionally moving film. I might love it more than other people since I used to dress up as a woman and probably will again. Here's an example:

Goddamn. I am one sexy bitch.

Today is a beautiful day. 70 degrees and generally sunny. The first day of spring! Fuuuuuuuck yeah. I went running today for the first time since summer vacation. It felt FABULOUS. I'm wearing my holy jeans WITHOUT longjohns and I'm completely comfortable! I'm overusing exclamation marks! Yay!

My mom had a stroke this week, which is really random since she's only 42. Thankfully it was very minor and she's doing fine. She went home from the hospital today and as far as I know everything is going good. Three cheers for my mother's quick and easy recovery! Hip hip HOORAY! Hip hip HOORAY! Hip hip HOORAY!

I got a haircut last weekend. I like it a lot. Let me see if I have a good picture of it.

This is the best I could come up with on such short notice. I was going to crop it but I decided that the stains on my ceiling were just too hilarious to cut out. Looking at my ceiling, even right now, I can't see those stains. Only through the magic of the Sony Cyber-Shot and it's majestic FLASH can they be seen. It's kind of like writing messages in lemon juice and reading them with a black-light. God is writing me messages in ceiling stains. I just don't know what they mean because I can't read ancient Zuni writing, otherwise known as the language of God.

Now, Vanes[s]a is here and climbing on me so I must go perform my duties as a jungle-gym. I leave you with my newest song!

God Is The Sun

My father, my king
Your crown is broken
Like the iron chains
That once bound me
Lock and key
I sang out loud
While the sea
Swallowed me

I've never claimed to be
Anything vaguely resembling a poet
All of my rhyme schemes
They lack a certain efficiency
Still they wrapped those leaves around my head
Raised me up, to the Lord be wed
Saint Francis, come and take me away
By your knotted belt, this neck will

God burns hard in the vacuum of space
Bright as the rain all your lovers taste
From a cloudless sky, love pours down
In the poet's dream it gathers all around

If God is the sun then the fields will lay empty
Seared from the Earth by His burning love
If God is the sun then the fields will lay empty
And Phaeton's only fault was losing grip of his love

Echoes and howls from Plato's cave
Diamonds lost but income gained

Echoes and howls from Plato's cave
Diamonds lost but income gained

My father, my king
Your crown is broken
Like the iron chains
That once bound me
Lock and key
I sang out loud
While the sea
Swallowed me

Through love, God's will bends to man's and we will walk together hand in hand.

God speed!

Comments...FIXED!

2006-02-22T00:42:00.000-05:00

So anyone who has ever attempted to post a comment on this blog has found that the system just did not work. I know that at least Vanes[s]a has tried, unsuccessfully, to comment. I believe Eric has as well. Well, the problem has now been fixed. Fixed, fixed, fixed. So this is what I ask of you:

Comment! Comment! Comment!
Go back and comment on old things.
Re-post lost comments.
Post new comments.
Show me love.
Make me feel important.

Thank you. That is all.

God speed.

[EDIT]: It did work, Eric, but I must approve the comments before they go up for the public to see to avoid abuse from bitches like you. Just kidding, love ya! (Haha! Too many thousands of miles away to slap for that one!) The whole approval thing is serious though, it helps prevent comment spam. Word.

I'm paid to make girls panic while I sing.

2006-02-20T02:31:00.000-05:00

Today was extremely productive. I not only wrote my six-page paper on post-Soviet Russia, I also cleaned my room and learnt to play chess (thank you, Vanes[s]a, for teaching me).

Since it's been some time since I last posted, let me give you a run down of important events, in no particular order other than how they come to mind:

- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (an amazing and seemingly never-ending show)
"Pull me up on either side. Don't leave me standing alone in the light"

- Sigur Ros (an equally amazing show, incredibly uplifting)
[insert the chaos and beauty of the final song of their encore here]

- One month anniversary with Vanes[s]a
Every day I love her more and more. More than I thought was ever possible.

- Valentine's Day
Best V-Day EVER, hands down, no questions asked. Vanes[s]a wrote me the most wonderful of letters and painted me pictures of ponies. We had dinner at Dragonfly, which was the single greatest meal I have ever had. From midnight to midnight, Valentine's Day 2006 was absolutely amazing.

- Probably Cyborgs
We pretty much rocked the foundations of the Earth when we played the High Five on the 16th. We got about 50 or so people to come out to the show, made a bit of cash, and put on one helluva show (if I do say so myself). We've been guaranteed the chance to play there again, which is extremely exciting.

- RA Process
I had my RA interview and I feel that it went incredibly well. I found out my status on March 3 via e-mail.

- Security
Despite a lingering feeling that I was about to start hating my job, I have come to love it. I moved my Friday shift so that I no longer have three 8AM shifts in a row. Instead, on Fridays, I work at 10AM. The job provides me with time to study, write, think, and be perpetually fascinated with campus.

I have also discovered and made corresponding plans for Mogwai's show at the Mershon on March 2 and an appearance by Kurt Vonnegut, my hero and savior, at the Ohio Union on March 1. I've never been so goddamned excited in my life. Kurt Vonnegut! I thought I was going to die when I saw the flyer. I remember thinking, "goddamn, if Eric is ever going to wish he were at home while he's in Spain..." Oh my, how I miss that boy. It would seem, from his e-mails and pictures, that he is having a fabulous time. He sent Vanes[s]a a postcard this week, which is just more proof that Eric's pretty much the greatest person walking the Earth. I need to write him a letter. I think I'll send him a postcard from Washington, also.

Washington? The devil you say! Let me explain.

This weekend, Vanes[s]a and I are going to Washington, D.C. I cannot wait. It's going to be so amazing. Unless all provided information lies, we're going to have pretty much the cutest hotel room in the world (which is appropriate considering we're the cutest thing of all time). It's going to be a great break from everything and a spectacular way to end a week filled with tests and papers. We're going to see everything. We're going to do whatever we want. Washington is going to be ours. Good lord, I cannot wait.

I can't explain how happy she makes me, not in words. It's beyond all description and comprehension.

This is what love looks like:

So much.

God speed and good night.

The riff Mike plays as I type this

2006-02-03T15:05:00.000-05:00

So I definitely slept through work this morning. Oops. Oh well, it' s my first week, hopefully they'll cut me a break. The powers that be seem pretty laid back.

Tonight is going to be glorious for three reasons:

1) Practice with the Cyborgs. Quanta and Vanesa are coming to watch! Yay!
2) The Sun. And it only costs one dollar.
3) Ridiculous crunkfest with Andy. Oh shit.

I have feeling that this weekend is going to be good.

On Tuesday I will be officially changing my major to Italian. Goddamn, I am excited.

Now I must cleanse my body and go retrieve automotive transportation.

God speed.

Orton Hall has a secret staircase that's not really a secret.

2006-02-01T11:22:00.000-05:00

So essentially my supervisor, Anthony, told me to go home and stop by the geology library on my way so I would know what the hell it was. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how Atom gets paid for an hour of work that he will actually spend in the shower and listening to Billy Corgan's The Future Embrace, which I listened to for the first time today while doing my second round and came to find that it is pretty goddamned fabulous. Inexplicably so. Billy Corgan is not supposed to make quasi-electronic music. And he's certainly not supposed to do it well. The man is a guitar hero, not a synth hero! And yet, the album is pretty damn good. Maybe his crooning just fills me with nostalgia. Oh, Billy.

Before I throw my songs at you, I'd like to comment on the State of the Union address last night. 1) I felt the need to shit a brick when Bush started talking about our oil addiction, the use of solar and nuclear energy, and the use of ethanol fuel. The words certainly don't seem to fit with our Texas oil boy but, as the post-game commentary said, if Nixon can go to China then maybe Bush can wean us from the teat of fossil fuel. 2) It was absolutely fucking hysterical when Bush commented about his Social Security package not passing last year and the entire Democratic half of the house stood up and applauded. I love it when people are assholes. It's so glorious. On with the lyrics!

I wrote this first one Sunday night.

The State of the Union

"The blood spills black
Like oil from the veins
Of a man on top
Who’s lost hold of the reins
The boys and girls
Dance on the avenue
With their flashy signs
A few words of truth

It seems to me
There’s not much they can do
Just beat their drum
And tell me who to choose
But it’s the least
That I can do
To throw a dollar in
And hold a hand or two

I hope it gets better
Better for me and you
I hope and pray one day to walk away
Having finally found some truth

The stench that floods
All of our city streets
Is one of sewage and deep-fried
Personalities
They all just seem
To scream out to me
“Please take me away
From everything I need
Every hand that ticks
Every wheel that turns
All the high-end clothes
Every penny I earn”
You say, “Let’s set it on fire
And watch it burn,”
But, goddammit, kid
I wish you’d all just fucking learn

That it’s not that easy
Oh, no no
I could tell you just how this whole world should be
I would spread out maps and speak very plainly
But implementing those plans is something else, you see
A job not meant for the likes of me
I will tell you now that I have faith in myself
I just don’t feel that I have the health

No, I’m not talking about my heart

I’m talking about my checkbook
And my family
This cast that I’m stuck in
All these broken bones the world gave to me
If I could mend just one
I’d be on my way
To something even better
Than those golden days
But my legs are broken
And these hands are tied
With my tongue cut out
Can’t even convince myself
To cry"

And this next one I wrote last night

Hush

"I would lay beside them
Hand in hand
Faceless and quiet
In the desert sand
The fire fights itself
All through the night
Burns so much brighter
Than the life in you and I

It’s the need to hold them
When you’ll never get the chance
The longing for a brother’s arm
Or a sister’s hand
And I’d pass on glory
If I had the chance
Yeah, I’d pass on everything
Just to feel that spark again

The letters I wrote home
Never really said that much
Glossed over disaffection
And a long, undying lust

The scholar in me
Found last stroke of luck
Before they drug him from the boat
And buried me face first in the mud

But don’t worry too much, baby
This ain’t no big surprise
And the only problem here
Is all the wormwood in my eyes

And don’t stay up too late, baby
We’re an hour past all night
The only thing that matters right now
Is to keep the dawn inside

And our father, it seems
Left you here to die with me
But in his city of lights
I just couldn’t find the time
And I don’t have the right
To tell anyone to live this life
So I just sit by and watch them slide
One by one back to the sky

All the letters I wrote home
Never really said that much
Glossed over disaffection
And a long, undying lust

The lover in me
Found one last stroke of luck
Before they left me orbiting
Like the satellite eyes of a lush

And don’t worry too much, baby
This is no surprise
The only problem I’ve had
Is crawling back out of the light

So don’t wait up too late, baby
We’ll be gone all night
The only thing that matters right now
Is bursting out of my eyes"

Word. More ramblings (hopefully incoherent) will be arriving shortly. Now I must shower! And quickly!

God speed!

Future Embrace

2006-02-01T10:23:00.000-05:00

First and foremost it should be announced that Probably Cyborgs will be playing at the High Five on Thursday, February 16. The show starts at 6PM and we are supposed to take the stage around 8PM. Tickets are $6 at the door. EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE SHOULD COME. EVERYONE.

Speaking of shows, there are about twenty-million coming up that I need to get tickets for. She Wants Revenge, B.R.M.C., Siur Ros, Matt Pond PA, and the Violent Femmes are all coming to town in the next month or so. There are others, as well, I just can't think of them right now.

Today I started my job working security at the library, which is where I am right now. I spent two hours doing rounds as there's no supervisor until ten o'clock and I have no idea what else to do. It's now ten-thiry but I think a supervisor may have just arrived. I'm convinced that when I'm "on rounds" I could just sit on the eleventh floor and do whatever I please. So I intend to read a lot while I'm at work, starting with finally getting back into South of the Border, West of the Sun by Murakami.

Vanesa and Eric are communicating internationally via facebook. This excites me to no end as I love them both and wish so desperately that they could meet one another. Lord knows they will eventually.

In the last couple of days I've written two new songs. I wrote both at inoppurtune times (the middle of the night) and one led me to being up all night, but I was with Vanesa, so I couldn't have been happier. I'll put the lyrics up later today when I have them in front of me.

I'm very seriously considering changing my major to Italian. In fact, I am changing it to Italian. I'll double major or minor in writing. In theory. It's very likely I'll just change my mind again but goddamn do I love the Italian language. Every single word is gorgeous. It flows like water.

Sad news: my Rise & Fall of the Soviet Union class sucks ass. It's mind-numbingly boring. Why? Because it just sort of brushes over the actual politics of it all. We discuss political action taken but not the motivation behind it. At least we didn't when I still went to class. I started going again this week because I had a mid-term. I suppose I'll keep going since I have work before class now.

Speaking of work, I think a supervisor may have arrived, so it's time to find out what the hell I should do with myself. I'll have so much more to say tonight, when I'm deliriously tired and my mind runs rampant with madness.

God speed.

Like a bomb.

2006-01-19T03:15:00.000-05:00

The past week has been spectacular. The weekend was a whirlwind of alcohol, friends, and joy. Last night the Brycinator came with Vanesa, Quanta, and I to see Femme Fatality. They were fabulous. I danced like a fiend and now my neck pays the price. But it was oh so worth it. One of the openers, Anna Ranger, just blew me away. His song "Mutant Beast" is one of the catchiest songs I've ever heard and the irony of the happy dance-pop music coupled with his lyrics ("You lying piece of shit. I'll kill you then I'll kill myself.") cannot be beat. I am officially a part of Probably Cyborgs, which is very exciting for me. I finally got a scarf (two, actually) and I now know the story behind the absence of my father. There's so much more. I can't sufficiently describe in words the glory of the last week. Just know that life is grand.

And you make me happier than I thought I could ever be.

God speed and good night.

An open letter...

2006-01-10T23:31:00.000-05:00

...to my best friend, Eric Hornbeck, who is currently residing in Pamplona, Spain.

Dear Eric,

On the way home from your going away party, Chris and I talked about how foreign of a concept it was to think about you being in another country, across the globe, and not seeing you for (give or take) eight months. We discussed that it would take some time to really sink in that you would be gone for so long. Well, my friend, upon recieving your first e-mail from Spain, it finally sunk in (even though, according to said e-mail, it has not quite sunk in for you). I will miss you, my friend. I already do, in fact. Despite the fact that while we're at school our online conversations tend to be brief and ridiculous even those shall not be had before I see you again, and that really saddens me. Still, as much as I wish you were here so I could talk to you and party it up with you and Chris, I am so excited for you to be in Spain. You are going to have the time of your life, my friend, I know it. From the e-mail it sounded like you're already having a great time. I'll have to go to those art museums when I get there.

That's another thing that excites me so much, going to Spain in July. New York was amazing last summer but I'm pretty sure a month in Europe is going to own those four days. And wine for 1.5 Euros!!!! Astounding!!!! My liver is already quivering in fear. I'm pretty sure Andy's coming with me, given that we can get plane tickets as cheap as those I found in the fall. It's going to be so incredibly ridiculous. This whole year is.

So, my friend, I will miss you dearly, ridiculously, incredibly. I will miss staying up all night talking about everything in the universe and being complete nerds. I'll miss your hand gestures and your insanity. And some small part of me may even miss you gas problem. Well, that might me a lie. The point is, though, that I will miss you in every possible way. You're my best friend, you have been since first grade, how could I not miss you with the very fabric of my being? I couldn't. And this is what I want you to know.

I would also like to say that the only thing I can say that I have ever truly regretted (because I cannot truly regret even the most horrible things I've done as I have learnt from them all. I am sorry for them but I do not regret them.) doing, or not doing as the case may be, is not giving you a goddamn hug when I left your going away party. My friend for twelve years and I didn't even give you a fucking hug! It just means you'll get a bigger one when I see you in July.

I know you're going to have the time of your life, just save me a bottle wine and a cup of coffee for when I get off the plane. I love you, my friend, and I will see you in July. God speed.

Your friend,

Atom Vincent

Time Code

2006-01-09T15:08:00.000-05:00

The weekend was good. I saw Brokeback Mountain, which was really good but I had built it up way too much beforehand. It was still a good movie. Heath Ledger blew me away. Honestly, who knew the man could act? Gallery hopping was fun, even though we only went into one gallery (don't ask) but that gallery (Mahan) was amazing.

Yesterday, I did some homework and had a big meeting about senate so, for once, Sunday was productive. Today, on the other hand, I have effectively wasted. I got up at nine and went swimming with J-Lew, the hall director, which essentially destroyed my body. This, the first real exercise I've honestly had in a couple months, the fact that despite my efforts I didn't actually fall asleep last night until four, and my streak of sleep-deprivation all came together to destroy my body. I got back from swimming around ten-thirty and set my alarm for twelve-thirty so I could get up for class. It would seem that I turned off my alarm in my sleep because I woke up at about two, having slept through my one and only class today and also through the only office hours of the creative writing professor I need to go see. Goddamn do I feel lazy. But, thankfully, I still have time to turn in the paperwork for my job (SECURITY at the LIBRARY, I'm so excited) and there's a senate meeting tonight so all is not lost. For the moment, though, I am a bum.

Last week, I read an excerpt from Michelle Herman's The Middle of Everything. Michelle Herman is said creative writing professor that I need to go see and she's written a few books, won awards, and done the things successful writer/professors do. Anyway, The Middle of Everything is her first non-fiction book and is a memoir on motherhood. The part of the excerpt that really struck me dealt with her daughter becoming very upset as a young child the night before her birthday because she didn't want to grow older. Specifically, Michelle asks her daughter if she would banish time, were it in her power and her daughter responds:

"No, I couldn't. That's the problem. That's why I hate it. If time stopped, everything would stop. But it just keeps coming and coming. And it's so terrible."

There are times I can't help but sympathize with this feeling. It's something we've all experienced, that fear of change and of the future. All the uncertainty. There are moments I wish I could stop time so I could hold onto the joy of that instant forever. These feelings come less frequently than they used to. I think it's because the future has consistently been better than the past for quite a while now. Those Nationwide ads don't' lie, though, life does come at you fast. I wonder what's going to come for me. The future excites me far more often than it scars me, these days, but, my God, the time does fly by. The days just keep falling by like rain. "Each wanting the next one to arrive."

And I want them, too.

God speed.

Top 15 Albums of 2005

2006-01-04T16:32:00.000-05:00

Finally, I have settled upon my definitive top 15 albums of the last year. I have also opted to list my favorite track from each album. Here it is:

1. The Woods by Sleater-Kinney; "Modern Girl"
2. Takk... by Sigur Ros; "Glosoli"
3. Open Season by British Sea Power; "True Adventures"
4. Late Registration by Kanye West; "Gone"
5. I Am A Bird Now by Antony and the Johnsons; "Fistful of Love"
6. In Case We Die by Architecture In Helsinki; "Frenchy, I'm Faking"
7. Set Yourself On Fire by Stars; "Set Yourself On Fire"
8. Broken Social Scene by Broken Social Scene; "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)"
9. Cripple Crow by Devendra Barnhart; "Korean Dogwood"
10. Illinois by Sufjan Stevens; "John Wayne Gacy, Jr."
11. Twin Cinema by The New Pornographers; "These Are the Fables"
12. Get Behind Me Satan by The White Stripes; "I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet)
13. Gimme Fiction by Spoon; "The Beast And Dragon, Adored"
14. Digital Ash In A Digital Urn by Bright Eyes; "Easy/Lucky/Free"
15. Harmonies for the Haunted by stellastarr*; "On My Own"

What's that you say? How did Digital Ash.. beat out I'm Wide Awake...? Who the hell is Devendra Barnhart? Why do I like a song about a serial killer? What the fuck is up with that asterik in stellastarr*'s name? Who's Ibi? How did Kanye get on a list with those bands? What the hell is going on? I could answer all these questions easily enough but you should really just listen to the albums.

For your information, though, Kanye owns the Earth and no one can deny it. Not even you.

God speed.

"Welcome to the Working Week"

2006-01-03T23:16:00.000-05:00

Sweet sweet glory, how good it is to be back! OSU may be even more amazing than it was when I left. Or maybe it just seems that way because I've only been for a day and a half. All the same, I love it here and I'm so glad to be back. Today was the first day of classes and my first class was what will hopefully be one of the most glorious classes of all time: The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Union. If you know me, you've probably heard me talk once or twice about my awkward obsession with Russia. This class is essentially the pinnacle of this obsession. First Italian 102 class as well. The instructor, Alison, seems like she'll be fun. It'll take some time getting used to not having the ever-enthusiastic Keith Davis. Honestly, he's one of the best teachers I've ever had. I also, about two hours before the class, rejoined Dante In Translation and dropped Writing of Fiction. Why? Because I've been writing non-fiction and I feel that's what I'll be focusing on for some time. When Spring Quarter rolls around I'll make the call on whether to take Fiction or Non-Fiction. Until then, my primary focus is the Italian language. I want to be well prepared when I get to Europe this summer.

Mirror Lake was everything I dreamed of and more today. Twice.

Vanesa and I had a soap adventure today. Bubble Tea was cancelled but so it goes. She got to hear me play guitar/sing for the first time tonight. Unfortunately, I sang (and played) pretty heinously. That's what happens when you're (super) nervous. Oh, well, I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it.

It's slowly starting to sink in that I'm hardly going to talk to Eric until I get to Spain in July. It's so strange to think that my best friend is going to be on another continent for the better part of a year.

Tomorrow I turn in my Personal Study Program paper work, get an internation student ID, try to find out if Andy's going to Europe with me, and try to get ahold of Duke, the head of security at the Main Library. According to the gentleman working security this afternoon, Duke will hire me. I hope so. I need a damn job. BAD. Only one class tomorrow (Italian @ 1:30). Lunch tomorrow with an old friend, Target adventures, and the strong possibility of practice with Probably Cyborgs.

I need to see Brokeback Mountain. Immediately.

Top five things of the first two days:

1. New hair (the straight kind and the red kind)
2. Rooms that always smell like coffee
3.The entire population of Stradley Hall
4. My Bulgarian professor
5. This T.S. Eliot quote: "Dante and Shakespeare divide the modern world between them; there is no third."

Top 15 albums of 2005 coming tomorrow. Even if it kills me.

God speed and good night.

"Ten-thousand dancing girls kicking cans 'cross the sky."

2005-12-31T19:09:00.000-05:00

Last night, Chase and I played non-stop for one hour and fifteen minutes. He sang random things about Russia. I made insane noise. It was the most ridiculous thing we've ever done. But it was so much damn fun. Then, at Bryce's house, I had amazingly deep and intimate conversations with everyone (Bryce, Chase, Zac, and James) throughout the night and I've only met James twice. But we were all drunk as monkeys. Still, we hit all the bases (consciousness, physics, existence, God, love, art, literature, music, brotherhood, etc). The best part about drunken rambling (at least when you're with people you know and trust) is the ability to get things off your chest that you would otherwise feel silly talking about, don't know when to bring up, or don't want to admit to yourself, because when you're drunk you admit it all, don't feel silly, and can bring it up any damn time you want. So last night was a good night.

Practice with Probably Cyborgs has been good. We've all but got the vocals for four songs down, which is exciting. I would like to say that I absolutely love song 3 (the name of which I don't remember because we always refer to them by number or random names they've come up with that are unrelated to the lyrics [i.e. "Corners", "Angry Song", and "Dance Song"]). I'm really excited to play a show with these guys, I think it'll be amazing.

After I finishes High Fidelity I had intended to jump into The Brothers Karamazov, but that just didn't happen. I've been running around and hanging out with my friends and haven't had as much down time to read. I'm ok with that, though, because I read so much this break.

Considering my current trend of writing non-fiction, I'm getting antsy about my Writing of Fiction class next quarter. More than anything I want to be able to submit the non-fiction I've been producing. I guess I'm not all that worried about producing fiction pieces, especially considering the ridiculous ideas I've been building up in my mind dealing with human consciousness and all sorts of insane things that go hand in hand with that, like immortality and the after-life. Confused? Ask me to explain it to you some time and I will.

Tonight is party time in Dublin. We're going to ring in the New Year by being ridiculous, the way things were meant to be. It's going to be a good time. I have a phone call to place at midnight and I certainly hope they hear their phone ring and answer it, if only for a few short moments.

Tomorrow, I'm moving most of my stuff back in and then coming back home for Eric's going away party. I'm really excited to go back to school. I am not so excited about Eric going to Spain. Well, no, that's a lie. I'm really excited for him. He's going to have the time of his life, I'm sure, and when I get there in July all hell's going to break loose and it's going to be fabulous. I just can't help but not be too keen on not seeing my best friend for seven months but so it goes. I'm sure the stories and pictures he'll be sending me will be ridiculous. They goddamn well better be.

Sometime in the next week I will have my finalized list of my Top 15 Albums of 2005. The odds are no one cars about this list but me, but I care about it a lot. Far too much, in fact.

Two days to Stradley! I can't wait!

Happy New Year, kids (and adults).

God speed and good night.

"Southern Belles in London Sing"

2005-12-26T17:31:00.000-05:00

Christmas was good. My aunt and uncle came up, who I haven't really seen in ages and it was a really fun time with the family. Weird, eh? And my mom got me this crazy book, Lennon Legend: The Illustrated Life of John Lennon, which is full of madness reproductions of memorabilia/posters/lyrics/etc. It's pretty fabulous.

I've been tearing through my reading list. Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World is absolutely amazing. It has solidified Murakami as my favorite author. The ideas he presents about our perception of reality and human consciousness are fascinating. I finished it a few days ago and then jumped right in on High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. Not since The Catcher In the Rye has a book been so accurate in describing the inner turmoil and emotion of a young man's mind (at least such a mind in my experience). You may say to me, "but Adam, Hornby's main character, Rob, is thirty-six years old so he's hardly a young man." That fact is completely irrelevant. High Fidelity is a coming of age story. The difference from it and the rest is that it's not about Rob becoming a man, it's about Rob realizing that, despite his efforts, he is a man and solidifying himself into that role by wiping away the childish fears that everyone has about life and love. Hornby absolutely nails the emotion of every situation, tearing you apart and putting you together page by page. Like any great book, one page will make you laugh and the next will make you cry. And before you ask, I love the film High Fidelity as well, but the book blows it out of the water. Also, the fact that the book is set in London and thus written in a more British vernacular, as well as the subtle (and not-so-subtle) differences between the stories in the book and the film allow you completely separate the two if you've seen the film but not yet read the book.

I don't know what I'm going to be doing with myself this week outside of New Year's Eve festivities at Gabe's and practice tomorrow with Probably Cyborgs (like I said last week, Brian, we are going to smoke the Columbus scene like a tightly rolled blunt on Christmas Day). I've got a show with '87 Celebrity on Friday at the Harvest Moon at 8PM (I believe). Chase and I decided we're just going to play one song, half-an-hour long, and just make it up as we go. We may be completely blitzed for the performance. Or we may come to our senses and do an acoustic set. We'll see. We may or may not be opening for some other bands. I don't really know. But I shall find out!

I have all but resigned myself to dropping Dante in Translation next quarter and getting a job. I'm even more apt to do this considering that dropping it would mean my latest class all week ends at 2:18 instead of 5:18. I'm going to go the first week and see how I feel about it but I need money so damn bad that I've all but made my decision.

Speaking of money, I need to buy tickets to Europe! That's my first order of business when I get back on campus next week: get an international student ID and buy plane tickets to Europe (into Barcelona or Madrid and out of Heathrow). Goddamn, I'm so excited.

As promised, I have been writing, quite a bit actually. However, I do not feel comfortable posting my stories online as recently I have been writing non-fiction pieces, which is a first for me. In my opinion, though, they are my best work yet. If you want to read them, just get ahold of me on AIM or e-mail and I'll send you a couple to have a look at. They will only be forced upon one person (poor Shannon) but that's what we do, share our writing with each other. And be ridiculous.

One week and I'll be back at OSU! I cannot fucking wait.

This year is going to be a great one, I can feel it.

God speed and good night.

Productivity from 5AM - 6AM

2005-12-22T06:05:00.000-05:00

"The Lady of the Lake"

"The stars shine brighter these days
In the country air, where the cold won't stay
See the namesake horizon
But I still can't find the dragon
Through the window of your car
Venus burns bright and the moon rides so high
Just like the two of us now
Crawl across the sky but you can't hold it down

Say goodbye to the darker days
Head held higher than the masquerade
Please call ahead, just in case
Put the windows up and we'll be on our way

Time is contradictory
This is the truth between you and me
I feel you run through my hands
Grain by grain like the finest sand
The fog slows me to crawl
High beams off, the speed of light is the law
That held my hand on the way back to bed
The sun is too bright but it just wants to live

Say goodbye to the darker days
Head held higher than the masquerade
Please call ahead, just in case
Put the windows up and we'll be on our way

Say hello to the brighter days
With your hair pushed back in the most beautiful way
Take one last walk to the lake
So you can throw it all back and cut the lady a break"

"The King of Carrot Flowers, Pt. 1"

2005-12-22T02:48:00.000-05:00

Cincinnati (or, to be accurate, West Chester) was fabulous. I had my first full, real meal since getting my wisdom teeth out and it was at Trio, a magnificent little Italian place. I got to meet Caitlin, which was exciting seeing as Vanesa, Courtney, and Caitlin are BFFs. Vanesa took me to see the giant Jesus coming out of the lake. It's probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. I had the strongest desire to climb up and sit on his shoulder. Don't ask me why. We had a driveway party (although it was in the living room, but it's the principle of the matter, not the location) at Caitlin's with Courtney, Jessie and Jessie's cousin Stacey. It was ridiculously fun. Tuesday we ran around a little bit, wrapped presents, and watched Hide and Seek. The movie was a little predictable. Anybody else think DeNiro has really fallen from grace? Regardless, I had a spectacular time. Everything was wonderful. I'm going back down sometime next week. I can't wait.

I got back to Columbus in about an hour and twenty minutes. It would seem I did 85-90 the whole way home but I hardly noticed. I was freaking out and singing and dancing while I drove. I hope the folks on the highway were entertained. I was supposed to meet Eric, Tim, and Chris at Chipotle on campus at six, but I told them I may be late as I left West Chester around 4:15, expecting a two hour drive. I was in Chipolte at six. They didn't show until seven. Dirty whores. At least I had some delicious tacos.

Shannon called me while I was driving home and invited me up to Arvind's for some crunktastic times and band practice. Practice was fucking sweet, both last night and today. I definitely drank way too much. I don't really remember the end of last night and that rarely happens. From what I do remember, I was ridiculous. I was really into hugs and the amazing beauty of life last night. Arvind and I kept singing "Poison Oak" and hugging each other. Brian described Arving and I like this: "Statement of agreement. Embrace. Statement of agreement. Embrace." I woke up on the floor outside the bathroom with a sheet. Ridiculous.

Tonight Chase, Eric, Chris and I just hung out. It doesn't get much better than the last three days.

Can I say one more time how glorious it is to be alive? Sweet sweet glory.

To quote Eggers (again): "Damn, I'm so in love with all of this."

I know I'm being redundant at this point. It doesn't matter. The stars are shining brighter these days.

God speed and good night.

This is how the story goes.

2005-12-18T17:17:00.000-05:00

The Redwalls ARE rock and roll. The purest, maybe, I've ever heard. The idea everyone gets in their mind when they hear the words "rock and roll" (the huge expanse of images that crop up, the sounds, the memories, the feelings, the great glorious vision we all hold of rock and roll) the Redwalls embody. Not say they're some absolutely amazing, must hear, must have, life changing, soul saving band, they simply ARE rock and roll. They sufficiently cover every possible base of pure, true rock and roll. They have somehow found a way to bring it all together. When you first hear them, part of you thinks you should be in a record shop in 1970, but then you realize that it's not like that at all. The attributes of that time period (which we undeniably consider the definitive period of rock and roll) are present in the Redwalls music (the love, hope, loss, sorrow, loneliness, disillusionment [both political and personal], and the overwhelming sense of holding hands the music brings), but there are things beyond that. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the things they are saying with their music are almost purely cliche, but they say it without the use of any cliche. By all rights, the music itself should be written off as retro-'70s-cliche rock, but they dodge that bullet as well. How? They somehow manage to wrap the entire twenty year period from 1960 to 1979 into every one of their songs. It's never pick and choose, this period or that, it's all there at once, beyond any reasonable comprehension. It could be legitimately argued that they only encompass the summers of those two decades, cutting spring, winter, and fall right out. I could not speak against this and, upon writing it, have decided it's true. I like the Redwalls, but I don't love them. I will listen to them in the summer, windows down and stereo loud, singing along to the random lines and songs that really tickle my fancy and tapping my steering wheel to the rest. I will drive in the sun and adore them. Not because they are a great band but because they have caught the pure essence of carefree, easy-living summers on record. The kind of summers that no one ever really has, but everyone gets a taste of. Enough of a taste to let ourselves get lost inside it, wishing the whole of our lives could be so sweet. I don't love the Redwalls but by the end of summer I might. Six months ahead of schedule I'm already planning my baptism into summer and the sweet freedom of pure rock and roll. Oh, hey hey hey. Take me home.

I suppose I've made it sound like the Redwalls are absolutely amazing, but they're not. You've heard it all before, just not all together, not quite like this. They're pretty good, I'll give them that.

Tomorrow I'm going to the 'Nati! It's going to be grrrrrrrrrreat.

My wisdom teeth have healed fine, although I do have a wee bit of swelling still. Not enough to stop me from running amok, though. King Kong time. Don't worry, Vanesa, we'll go see it too.

God speed.

The piano riff that begins exactly 156 seconds into "Cat Heaven"

2005-12-13T17:58:00.000-05:00

There is a number immediately following every post heading. All such numbers are currently zero. They represent the number of comments left. If you click on the number, you can leave a comment. Feel free to do so if it tickles your fancy.

Last night I discovered Jets to Brazil. They are fabulous.

I regret to inform the world at large that the Arcade Fire's Christmas EP is absolutely awful. This is forgivable, however, as it seems to be intentionally so and was never produced or intended for public consumption.

All the writing that I said would happen in the past couple days has not. As least not on paper. Things have come together (and fallen apart) in my head. Soon enough I should have a couple new pieces. I hope.

I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow. All four of them. I suspect I'll be tripped out on vicodin for a good couple days. It will surely be an interesting experience.

If all goes well, I'll be going back down to the 'Nati on Monday. I hope so.

If you're leaving, walk slow.

God speed and good night.

"The car straight macked him and just drove off!"

2005-12-11T15:57:00.000-05:00

Cincinnati was fabulous.

It had been far too long since I really hung out with Lindsey and Nathan, and all of their friends that Eric and I met were amazing. Lindsey got me addicted to "Sex in the City". I couldn't help myself; it's so damn funny. How can you beat the line, "Dear vagina, guess who I have a crush on..."? You can't.

We tried to visit Vanesa at work, but the hostess told me she wasn't working. This was a lie. We also neglected to make reservations at P.F. Chang's so we ended up eating at Skyline.

We went to Nathan's house mate's birthday party and then to the dance club Metropolis. Vanesa and Courtney met us there, which was awesome. The club itself was kind of ridiculous. There were three rooms (country, techno, and top 40) but there were barely any people outside the top 40 room. It was also kind of small. I guess I'm just used to the absolute insanity of Long Street. Despite the faults of the club itself, I had an excellent time. I didn't realize how much I missed dancing. Clearly I need to start having dance parties every day of my life.

It was great to see Vanesa and Courtney again even though I've only been home for two days. It's so strange to not have their amazingness five floors below me. It was hard to really talk as we were in a loudass club, but I'm going to go visit them again over break so we can just hang out and I can meet Apex. Speaking of that, I'm pretty sure everyone should see how Vanesa portrayed Apex's theoretical reaction to the club. It was hysterical.

As always, the conversation between Eric and I on the two-hour car rides to and from Cincinatti were amazing. God bless that boy and all his madness.

Tonight = showers, chamber singers, and LOTS OF WRITING. Thank God I've got the house to myself.

Peace out, girl scout.

God speed.

Drape yourself in greenery; become part of the scenery.

2005-12-09T03:30:00.000-05:00

So I've been home for about twelve hours and already I can tell the next three weeks are going to be long, long, looooooooong. Or, perhaps, this first night is just a fluke. I suppose it's all up to me. This weekend is sure to be good. Tomorrow night is the Spoon and OK Go show, which is sure to be fabulous, because Spoon rocks the earth. Then Saturday it's lunch with Eric and Mr. Pierce before we head to Cincinnati to visit the dinosaur house and Vanesa and Courtney in West Chester. Vanesa apparently has a Furby named Apex. It speaks something like slow Chinese. She's teaching it English.

In other news, Vanesa has changed my name to Atom. So that's my name now. Atom David Vincent. It's pretty sweet, I guess.

I talked to Sami tonight, really, truly, talked to her for the first time in too damn long. We finally talked about all the things we should've talked about seven months ago but never did. It was good to reminisce, open up, and be honest with each other. It was good to agree how awful and ridiculous it is that we don't talk to each other anymore, not really, and that we need to change that. She was my best friend for the better part of a year of my life and it's ridiculous that we've let each other drift so far apart. It seems that problem is to be fixed and that certainly makes me happy. With Christmas coming up, I can't help but think about my Christmas/New Year's last year in Reno. Those were nine of the best days of my life and I doubt that will ever change. Three cheers for great memories! Three cheers for true, loyal, and amazing friends!

I told myself I was going to use this break to put my life in order: tie up loose ends, burn bridges and/or mend fences (as applicable), prioritize things, etc etc. In the past few days, things such as these have started to happen of their own accord, as if it were the whole point of break for me. That excites me.

I can't get over how wonderful life is. I wish everyone in the world could feel the way I do right now.

God speed and good night.

Oh, sweet Stradely, how I will miss thee.

2005-12-08T13:59:00.000-05:00

My last half hour on campus and what do I do? I eat chili and shave. I'm the last guy to leave the floor. Almost everyone's gone. I can't believe I'm not going to see them all for three weeks. WEIRD. Time to load my cart.

Yeah.
This post was pointless.

God speed.

Goddamn the Commies, wherever they are.

2005-12-07T18:34:00.000-05:00

Tonight's my last night on campus before Winter break. It's so strange to think about being back in C-Roll for three weeks. At least I'll get to see everyone and read. A lot. Here's the list of books I have purchased in the past few months but not yet read. I intend to get through as many of them as possible over break.

The Brother's Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
Finnegan's Wake by James Joyce
Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris
War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy
A Man Without A Country by Kurt Vonnegut

I'm almost finished with How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers. He continues to amaze me. One of my favorite passages thus far, from the story "The Only Meaning of the Oil-Wet Water"

"If there was a question that needed to be answered in this story it would be not one but many, and would be these: How can a world allow this? Allow these people to live so long? To travel all these miles south, to a place so different but still so comfortable, and in that place, meet again? To allow them to be naked together for the first time? What would their parents think? What would their friends think? Would anyone object? Who would plan for them? How many times in life can we make decisions that are important but will not hurt anyone? Are we obligated - maybe we are - to say yes to any choice when no one will be hurt? We use the word hurt when talking about things like this because when these things go wrong it can feel as if you were hit in the sternum by a huge animal that's run for miles just to strike you."

Beautiful. I think after How We Are Hungry I'll tear through A Man Without a Country, as it's relatively short, and then get to work on Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. I'm so excited to read more Murakami, I can't wait! (Yes, I acknowledge my undeniable nerdiness.)

I cleaned up today and got some of my stuff together to take home. I finally took a nap, only the second one of my college career. God, how I loved that nap. Tonight, Mike and I will be giving Autumn quarter a proper send off and hopefully I'll manage to watch Blade Runner. The odds are I'll just be ridiculous. Also, I started work on a new story last night. Hopefully I'll finish it up soon. Like the last one I wrote, it's been working itself over in my head for a few weeks, and now it's dying to get free. I know how it feels.

God speed and good night.

Boo!

2005-12-06T07:06:00.000-05:00

Today was a good day. I took my first final and did very well. It was a very relaxing day. I had time to read! Last week I bought three new books, which probably wasn't the wisest choice considering how many books I've purchased in the last couple months but haven't had time to open yet. My plan for winter break is to read as many of them as I can which means tearing through all the smaller books at break-neck speed and also that The Brothers Karamzov will be probably be put off again. Maybe, since I won't have a job I can just spend eight hours a day reading. Then I would surely get through the stack of books I have.

Anyway, as I said, I had time to read today. I started on How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers, the author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (a book I have not yet read but intend to soon considering how often it keeps popping up in my life and how good Eggers writing appears to be. Somewhere Sami is saying, "I told you so.") How We Are Hungry is a collection of short stories. I love short story collections for two reasons: 1) I think they're a fabulous way to get a real feeling for an author's work and 2) I just love short stories. I only read the first two, which took me twenty pages into the book (obviously I didn't read for very long, but at least I read). Those first two stories were amazing. If the rest of the collection is on the same level, I just might cream my jeans.

Also, I wrote a new song tonight! It's kind of ridiculous, but I love it.

"Old Dragons Breathe Ash, Not Fire."

"Didn't hear a word you said
But my empty soul needs fed
I feel so calculated, violated
With your hands around his

Neck-ties and leather jackets
Fall to the ground but in the
Blistering winter cold
This old dragon doesn't make a

Sound off
And march on
Into the fading
Desert son

Come, my children
And you will hear
Of how the west
Was won

Tried praying by the river
But it did no good, you see
All those broken skulls
Stared up at me with their battered

Teeth chatter in the cold
If there's one thing I know
It's how to keep somebody warm
With six flashlights and two or three French

Horns sound
At the break of dawn
To honor all those
I've lost

I'll try, once more
To remember your name
And where I left you
In the fog

I know I promised
I would never come back
But I go caught up
In the flood

I know I heard you
Calling my name
But all the rest
Was blood

Haven't heard a word you said
But my empty soul needs fed
I feel so calculated, violated
With your hands around my

Neck burns like fire
All the fallen stars conspire
Hope to see you one last time
Before I have to kiss it all

Goodbye, my dear
Don't be so sincere
About all the things
You've lost

I'll cut you a deal
On everything
That you want
At a minimal cost"

I love it even more when coupled with the obnoxiously catchy chord change it was written to. Oh, how I love creative sparks!

It's Vanesa's birthday so at midnight I went downstairs, sang her happy birthday, and had a jolly good time. Gabe and Mike were a bit inebriated and they started "flying" down the hallway with butterfly/angel wings on their backs. Then they gave me free pizza. Three cheers for free things. More importantly, Vanesa says she's never had a really good birthday and I am, therefore, determined to change that. If all goes well, I'll go to sleep in a few minutes, wake up in a few hours, and have a spectacular day.

God speed and good night.

You think it's gone, my friend, but it comes back again.

2005-12-04T04:09:00.000-05:00

Finally, my new blog. I promise to keep this one updated.

Go listen to British Sea Power. Right now. They were the inspiration for the title of this page, and my favorite band of all time. You can quote me on that.

The first quarter of my freshmen year of college is over. I have finals tomorrow and Wednesday, and then I'm going home on Thursday. I'm going to miss being here. My room, my friends, my life.

This a picture of Courtney, Vanesa, and myself during our M*ch*gan Game dance party.

They're two of the most amazing people of all time. They're pretty much my best friends here. I spend most of my free time with them; thankfully they're not sick of me. I'll miss them more than anything else, but I'm going to visit them over break.

Life at OSU has been fabulous so far. I've got so much joy in my life and so much hope for the future. I was, at first, not too excited about going home for break, but that's no longer the case. Not to say that I'm excited for it now, but I don't dread it. I know that it'll be good. It'll be good to see all my old friends and to have some time to myself to put everything into perspective.

I've only been at school for two and a half months, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has happened; so much has changed. I feel spectacularly refreshed and in love with life. These last couple weeks have been especially fabulous. Life is good, but I honestly don't see how it can get anything but better. No matter what happens, I'm not coming down from this cloud.

God speed and good night.