So Hillary Clinton and crew have succeeded in getting Grend Theft Auto pulled from stores because there's a patch you can download in the PC version that lets you unlock a sex scene. And in the console version you can unlock it if you have whatever Game Genie type device exists these days. Anyway, the fact that our government got involved and pulled this game from stores and forced it to switch ratings from the M (17+) rating to an adults only rating, effectively making the game porn. Here's where I have a problem with this. R rated movies, which are marketed at the exact same audience as an M rated game are allowed to have much more graphic sex scenes than GTA (both people are fully clothed in GTA) and there are hundreds of movies that exist on store shelves like this. Yet somehow in a game sex is an offense worth banning the game for? Videogames aren't just a kids thing anymore, because all the kids who grew up on videogames are grown up now. We like games sometimes that don't feature cartoon characters jumping on each other. Maybe something a little more mature than that. Not that I'm saying I need sex in my videogames, but I don't see what the giant issue is here. If the argument is that children have access to the game, the same argument can be made about R rated movies - kids can get into them with an adult at theaters, or just watch them at home after their parents buy or rent them. Plus, little kids who shouldn't be seeing the videogame sex probably wouldn't know how to download the patch and install it, or use the Game Genie to input the correct codes. Yet I like how this is what the big deal is, and not the fact that you can have sex with a hooker in your car (but you can't see it), pay her, hop out and kill her and take your money back. Or the fact that it realistically portrays gang violence, killing innocent people, etc. For the record, I have no problem with that either, it just goes to show how prudish we still are about sex. You know, sex is what keeps the human race from going extinct, yet we treat it like it's some kind of disease to be avoided at all costs. So there goes my vote for Hillary Clinton in '08 if she decides to run. Dumb bitch. I have a serious problem with censorship.

Officemax has been pretty boring so far, just sitting in the break room listening to policies and whatnot. Tomorrow I think I'm actually going to do some work, so that's exciting, I guess. What's not exciting is that I have to go in at 7am for a meeting, then come back at 3 to work until close. But whatever. What else would I be doing? All the people I've met that I'm going to work with seem cool, and all the girls who work there are hot, so I can't complain about anything in the HR department as of yet. The bosses seem a little strange, but overall it seems like a nice place to work. We'll see. It'll really be the customers that make or break this job, and if my previous experience with customers is any indication, I'll be wanting to kill someone by next week. Speaking of next week, Brian comes to visit on the 26th. Fun times are sure to ensue. Probably not fun times as in getting drunk and laid every night, but more like fun times like playing videogames and generally being huge nerds. Cause I'd by lying to you if I said we weren't huge nerds.

I got two new books yesterday. Vurt by Jeff Noon, which I read half way when I was waiting for Leslie to get her nails done. It's a really cool scifi type book about these drugs that are contained in feathers that put you in like another world, kind of like virtual reality but a different dimension. The main character lost his sister in one of the particularly bad feathers and got this alien in exchange, and he's trying to find this super rare feather so he can go in and trade the alien back for his sister. Sounds weird, and it is, but it's really good. Then I got Americana by Don DeLillo because I liked White Noise by him last summer, I think I'm taking a class on him next semester, and the back of the book made it sound interesting. Guy gives up his cushy life to travel across the country with a videocamera. Sounds like my kind of book.

I went driving up inthe mountains alone yesterday and it was pretty awesome. I took along a lot of good punk rock driving music: Cadillac Blindside, Lawrence Arms, Descendents, Against Me!, and Less than Jake. Sung at the top of my lungs until my throat hurt, drove way too fast around sharp corners, and generally enjoyed being the only car on the road. I was going to drive over some pass, but the road got too shady for me, all bumpy and stuff, and I didn't want to damage my car so I turned around. Kind of lost momentum after that, but whatever. If I get bored enough again I might do it today and just keep going but not take that pass and see if I can ever make it to a town. There are lots of houses up there, big expensive ones, and ranches, but no towns. No gas stations, no grocery stores. I don't know where these people get their stuff unless they just eat what they raise. A 45 minute drive into Fort Collins for gas seems a little ridiculous though. Ah, well, it cleared my mind for a while and wasted a couple hours of my time, and that's all I needed it to do.

It's hot hot hot here. Like around 100 degrees every day. Yeah. I don't have anything to say about that, just felt like pointing it out.

As far as Sarai goes, it's hard to talk about here because she reads this every now and again, but I have no idea what's going on there. I'm thick and clueless to begin with so that doesn't help any. I guess we're just going to see what happens when she gets back, but I have no idea if she's interested in dating or just friendship or what. I guess that mystery will reveal itself in time, but as for now, count me clueless. Her parents made her get rid of her pink hair though, and that's really disappointing, though the red-brown color it is now is still pretty cool. Just not pink.

Leslie and I are talking more now than we were for a while, and that's nice. I think she's coming to visit on Sunday assuming I have the evening free and nothing comes up on her end. That should be fun. I haven't seen her in months now. So that'll be nice.

And I guess that's it. It's been pretty slow, this update was kind of forced, but whatever. Enjoy your summer, I hope it's cooler there than it is here.

Hello everyone. It’s Friday, and, in conjunction with this joyous time, I present to you the latest installment in my musical journey through hell. I’m hoping that the extreme euphoria you possess knowing that the weekend is here will influence your judgment of the new song. Just to bring you up to speed: We’ve now traveled through the inner-workings of hell itself and are now surfacing, which means that the pain and scaring memories associated with the past songs can now dissolve, as you’ve left that world. Or something deep and dramatic like that. The point is, Adam heard this new song early since he’s just cool like that and he gives it his seal of approval. I’m not quite sure how much that equates to, but it’s something, so I’ll take it. Let’s jump right in.

Once again, this whole sentence is your portal to the outer world where you can abandon all those preconceived notions of the poor quality of songwriting you’ve witnessed heretofore. On a side note, I believe that’s the first (and most likely last) time I’ve ever used the word "heretofore." Since I liked the format last week, we’ll go lyrics and then ramblings.

Call from a Pay Phone
Under pearl gray skies, through dead wood brown eyes, I dial the seven digits tagged for you just to hear your voice trickle through the line and enter the recesses of my mind to stimulate the image of you smiling there with the moon sparkling your hair. To say I was unprepared to say "goodbye for now" would be a gross understatement. That night when you whispered, "I wish I was beautiful," I said, "were" both to be grammatically correct and to remind you that, at least in the present, your wish has been paid in full. But, if you want, let’s go back to those days when we were eighteen and feared the future. Let’s play make-believe and wash those doubts away with the same bar of soap we’ll use to rinse our filthy mouths from damning these days, damning these ways, damning these people, damning life for being so damn literal. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that home is not a place, but a foundation where I lie my head on your chest and watch the world rise and fall.

What you just read, that last line, that’s pretty much the best thing I’ve ever written. So just think: it’s all downhill from here! The remarkable thing about this song is that it’s actually inspired by a dream I had. Okay, that didn’t sound so remarkable since lots of artists get inspired by dreams, but it’s special for me since I rarely remember my dreams. But one time last summer I had a dream where I put my head on this girl’s chest and watched the world rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing. Since I was/am new to the whole remembering details from dreams, the face and name escapes me, but whoever you are, thanks! It might not even be a real person, for all I know. Regardless, I set out to write a happy song and a happy song this is. Also, unlike most of my other songs, this went through one or two drafts. Generally I just sit down and churn out a song and tweak certain elements, but this went through a couple re-writes. I’m really happy with the results, and I hope you are, too. Also, for the first time ever in the history of music, a song has featured a grammar joke. That one’s going out to all you grammar nuts out there. Now stop harassing me about how "lie" should be "lay" in the last line. Other nitpickers would mention that, this being a long distance call from a pay phone, you’d have to actually type in eleven numbers (1 + area code + 7 digits). To these people I say: shut up, Brian, you’re giving yourself away.

In other music news, look for a magazine called The Believer at your local bookstore. It’ll be under the literature section, most likely. The June/July issue includes a free cd with all sorts of nifty independent artists covering other spiffy independent artists. Definitely worth checking out, in my opinion. Also (well, not really "also" since this is something entirely different), I think something weird is going on with the comments to our entries. I question this not because I didn’t get 8000 screaming fans commenting on my last song (in anger), but because that post Adam had with his run-in with the police is hilarious and people definitely should’ve left notes of encouragement for when he’ll be put on trial for being a sex offender. So if that’s the case, then let us know so we can maybe get help to fix it. Otherwise, keep up the good job of commenting only on the classy stuff. With that kind of mentality we’ll probably never get a comment again. But hey, it’s Friday! Enjoy the weekend! Speak as if all of your sentences ended in exclamation points and irritate the people around you!

New story time. I wrote this one when I woke up this morning. It's like 4 pages long, so... yeah. Not real long, but not as short as The Heartbeat. And... yeah. No title yet, so I'm open to suggestions. Enjoy.

Looking calmly around his room, Jeff realized how little he’d miss. He’d brought with him what he thought he’d need to get him through this week, but now with so little time left he realized it was all superfluous. The pictures that only hours ago rested on his dresser now lay broken face down on the floor, and he made no attempt to rectify their situation. He simply walked into the closet and grabbed the nicest pair of clothes he’d brought. These had been meant to be for ballroom dancing, but there would be no dances tonight and he wore them anyway, since tonight would be the last night and they hadn’t been worn yet. Plus, he thought, if you’re going to go out, go out in style. He wondered if he still had time for a short nap, as all the excitement of late had tired him out some. Deciding that it didn’t really matter, he was going to take one either way, he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes.
He had a dream that the world was burning. The entire thing, red and orange and beautiful like a sun. A flaming ball hurtling through the air, the immense speed not even enough to put out the flames. Seen from space the sight would have brought a tear to the eye of even the most hardened viewer. Amid the vast blackness, one bright shining ball, a reminder that even in the darkest blackness there is a ball of light, of hope. And all the while, down on the earth itself, all living things run around screaming and burning, or suffocating because of the lack of oxygen. No one on Earth would have called the planet beautiful, but anyone floating above it would take as many pictures as they could of the most amazing thing they’d ever seen.
A loud noise, and Jeff awoke. Not with a start – he’d been getting more and more used to loud noises recently – but calmly, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He wondered where his wife was briefly, then decided it didn’t really matter. He would either be seeing her again soon, or he would never see her again, and in truth, either option would suit Jeff just fine. Suddenly a pang of guilt shot through him as he thought about their two children, and he picked up the pictures from the ground and placed them back on the dresser. They had stayed at home with their grandparents. Thank God for that, Jeff found himself thinking. With considerable difficulty he got out of bed and trudged upwards to the bathroom.
You look like shit, he thought to himself. Too much to drink last night. Tonight. Whenever that was. Time on a trip like this tends to get distorted. Time always gets distorted on vacation, but on one such as this, things can really get messed up. He stared at his bloodshot eyes and realized he was not as calm as he’d thought, and this worried him. He began to shake, put his head down in his hands and cried. When he’d done enough, he dried his eyes and resolved to go find his wife, just in case he’d never see her again. The view out the window told him he didn’t have a ton of time left. She’d need comforting, he told himself, and if a husband can’t comfort his wife in a time of need, what good is he at all?
He got dressed in his nicest clothes, the ones he’d laid out before his nap, and he combed his hair. He thought about trying to get the red out of his eyes, and he thought about shaving, but he decided the effort wouldn’t be worth it. It’d just mean more lost time, time he fully expected to spend enjoying the view with his wife. Looking marginally better than before, he walked out onto the deck to search for his wife.
Immediately screams filled the air and people could be seen running to and fro. Jeff resolved not to let any of this faze him, and he looked around to find anyone else who was taking things calmly. He found no one, which meant his wife was not in his immediate vicinity. She was a strong woman, Liza, and she would be somewhere sitting calmly reading a magazine or playing a game of some type. This he was sure of, so he walked down through the crowd, blocking out the movement and the noise and searching for the one person staying still. He couldn’t help but feeling like he had a book held in front of him, trying to find Waldo. The only difference... well, there were many differences, but the main one was this was timed, and it meant something.
Sure, Jeff and Liza had had a spat when they’d heard what was going on. Liza thought they should call home and say bye to their children while Jeff thought the kids would be better off not knowing what had happened to them until they were older. Liza kept trying to pick up the phone and Jeff kept ripping it from her hands, slamming it down. Eventually Jeff got upset with Liza and ripped the phone cord from the wall. Liza thought about saying something about destroying other people’s property, but realized how little that mattered, and stamped off in a huff to go find someone else’s phone. She hadn’t returned to the room. Jeff spent a few minutes being angry, calmed himself, grabbed his nice clothes out of the closet, took a nap, and here he was, searching for her.
Suddenly it occurred to him that she would probably be down by the pool relaxing. No one in their right mind would be by water at a time like this, which meant she was definitely there. He walked across the plaza to the pool and found her in her bra and underwear reading a magazine on a lawn chair. He sat down next to her.
“Nice bathing suit,” he said.
“I knew you’d like it,” she smirked back, and pulled him down to kiss her.
“Where’d you get the magazine?”
“It fell out of some businessman’s suitcase when he ran by here,” she said, holding up this month’s copy of Playboy. “You know, the articles in here are actually pretty interesting."
“See? That’s what I always said. But you said nobody reads the articles.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been wrong once or twice. The naked women kind of throw me off, though. Nobody looks like that.”
“Thank the gods of the airbrush, eh?”
“And don’t forget the plastic surgeons.”
“Yeah... Sorry about that fight earlier.”
“I’d be more forgiving if you weren’t staring at my breasts.”
“You are in your bra, you know. What do you say, one last go at it?”
“Right here? In public? Now?”
“Why not?” Jeff pleaded.
“I can think of a million reasons why not,” Liza said, standing up, throwing the magazine in the pool, and putting on her evening dress. “I see you dressed up for the occasion.”
“And so did you. Walk with me?”
They walked slowly and deliberately so as to not lose their footing. By now the area was clearing out, though there were still plenty of people running around yelling, trying to find loved ones or save anyone who walked by. Soft music still came fluttering out of the ballroom and Jeff asked Liza to dance. They stopped where they were outside and began swaying, holding each other closer and closer with each passing second. Jeff kissed Liza on the forehead and told her he loved her, and she turned her face away, trying not to shed a tear and failing. She slumped in his arms and he held her tighter, determined not to let her fall to the ground and risk getting trampled, but more trying not to let her slip away from him now. Not this close to the end. He ran his hands through her hair and told her everything would be okay soon.
“How can you say that?” she asked in disbelief.
“Well, there’s nothing we can really do now. Might as well enjoy it. This is something not everyone gets to go through.”
“GETS to?” she asked incredulously, and punched his chest playfully. “Gets to,” she repeated again, softly, to herself. She closed her eyes and felt the cool, calming breeze dry the tears on her face. When she opened them again, Jeff was staring into them.
“Let’s go up to the top,” he said, and they began what was becoming a steep ascent to the peak.
The stars were beautiful from out here. They flickered with light sent long ago. “You know,” said Jeff, “Everyone on those planets is dead now. Take comfort in that.”
“Those are stars,” said Liza, “and that’s not comforting anyway.”
“It is beautiful, though,” she added moments later. The sky was a dark blue, which meant the sun would be coming up on the world soon. Another day, their children at their grandparents’ playing in the yard. Another day, their children growing up, getting married, having children of their own. Another day, the world still turning, not on fire but burning with life and hope and passion. Another day, and so on.
“We’re going to miss so much,” Liza said, and looked wistfully at her husband who was staring quietly up at the sky, trying to take in the majesty of the universe one last time. He didn’t hear her, he was wrapped up in his own thoughts.
“I’d say,” he said after a few moments of an undetermined amount of time, “that if we make it to see the sunrise, we should consider that a victory, and be happy.”
“I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying but it’s not... I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“They say,” said Jeff, “That people who drown and are then brought back to life describe an amazing euphoria. Same of people whose hearts stop and then start again. This amazing pleasure, unlike anything they ever experienced in life. This feeling that, no matter what happens to them, everything will be okay in the end. They don’t fear death anymore after that. That’s comforting. To me, anyway. You know me, I don’t believe in an afterlife or anything like that, though times like these make me hope there is one. I still feel like I could do some more living. I don’t feel like I’m ready to stop. But then, I also know that if this is really going to be it, I’m going to feel better than I’ve ever felt before soon. That’s enough for me. Tomorrow will be another day. Our children will be cared for. Your parents are lovely people and they’ll raise our kids right. We’ve done everything we could to make sure they have what they need growing up. Insurance will pay for their schooling. The world keeps turning, Liza. We’re just two people on it. Everything will be okay in the end.”
Jeff had been staring at the horizon, and as he’d been speaking the tip of the sun had peeked over, bathing the sky in flames. The stars began to fade from view. The sky was pink in spots, orange in others, bright yellow in others. It was as if God himself had come down for this last moment on Earth and painted the most beautiful sky he’d ever painted. Both Jeff and Liza sat transfixed, Liza wiping away the tears that had flown during Jeff’s speech.
“God,” she said, “I never noticed how beautiful life is until now. That’s such a shame. I wish I would have done more.”
“You did all you could,” Jeff said, not wanting to look down, but finding himself curious as to how much time they had left. He looked, and it turned out not much. Liza felt the water touch her toes. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t look down,” Jeff said, knowing soon the ship would be pulled beneath the water, and them with it. They were now the only people left on board. The others had already drowned or had sailed off into the open sea in a lifeboat. “I love you, Liza,” Jeff managed to croak out through a clenched throat, and his face exploded with tears.
Liza simply turned to him and pulled his face into hers. They stood there in embrace until the ship gave completely beneath them and they felt themselves rocketing beneath the water. In her last breath, Liza yelled “I’ll see you soon,” and Jeff hoped beyond all hope that she was right.
The sun continued to rise. The water rippled violently for a moment before calming into a gentle waving pattern again. Children played in yards that day, grandparents got news that a ship had gone down, tears were shed, and another day sunk into the darkness of time.

Greetings. "So Brian, where's that song of the week thing you promised us?" is probably a question that's eluded most of you. Well, all I can say is that I was at home and did not have the incredibly high tech equipment (a computer program and a simple 2 input break-out box) required to record these ditties. So I apologize if I've lost the trust of everyone ever because I spouted empty promises like that. I'll try harder next time.

Let's get right to the tortu- fun, shall we? I will make this whole sentence a link, just so you don't have to strain too hard to find a link embedded in a tiny four letter word. Again, right clicking and Save As seems to work best, as I tried doing the normal left click thing and it said something dumb like "you can't download this," which is a complete lie since you can download it. Whatever. But I'm not good at tech support, so if you continue to have trouble and you really, really, really want to hear the song (you should probably consider it a good omen that it denies you access), then shoot me an IM and we can do a file transfer thing. The reason I don't do that normally is because it'd just take up too much of my day if I did that for the throngs of people who have shown interest. Or, you know, five minutes. So thanks to all you lovely people who braved the first song! You gave me just enough confidence to shatter your faith in me with this new one! I'm gonna switch things up and give you lyrics first, then commentary.

All These Christmas Carols Sound the Same
I’m st-st-st-st-stuttering on my words. It’s either fear or the cold, I’m not sure. I’m falling in love with eyes closer than they appear. I’m erasing this past year from memory. How hard could it be? And the fallen snow, from a bird’s eye view, presents these city streets in threads of white lacing up the best of you and me (a gift left under an abandoned Christmas tree wilting on New Year’s Eve). Months from now, when these memories melt and flood out onto the streets like the guts of traffic lights reflected on rain stained streets, I’ll have shelved away all those times that felt so right and catalogued your soft breathing on those summer nights. But for now, “Season’s Greetings!” is what I lack. Whoever said this is the most wonderful time of the year needs to take it back.

I have lots to say about this one, which is weird since it's so short. First, the title. I just came up with the title today. I've had this one written for almost a year and never found a good title for it, but I like the one it has now. So if you have suggestions for names, feel free to let me know. I'm trying to stay away from the obvious ones like "Piece of Shit Song #2,"but at least that sets the bar low! Anyway, the title alludes to my original intention with this song, which was to write something about how annoying the same 12 christmas carols are. But that idea got ditched and only shows up in the last two lines. How this song got started: Last summer, I delivered pizzas for Papa John's. It was a cool job. But, even after those countless hours on the road, I never got comfortable looking at the people in the cars around me, so I'd always steal glances in side mirrors or rear view mirrors. Hence the line, "I'm falling in love with eyes closer than they appear." But it also works in the sense that there's this distance between the two people. Cool, huh? So I wrote this song in the summer, even though it has a distinct winter feel to it. I like the "second verse," about the snow. It also has the most "emo" (in a bad way) line I've ever written, about the present under an abandoned Christmas tree. That part I'm okay with, actually, but the "wilting on New Year's Eve" element is just too much. But it was too good of a rhyme to pass up. Also, I want to point out that I'm not making fun of people who stutter. And you might notice I use the word "streets" twice. That's not supposed to be a bad rhyme, that's just me not knowing my own words. This is what happens when you sing without lyrics in front of you. The original line was "Months from now, when these memories melt and ooze out onto the roads like the guts of traffic lights reflected on rain stained streets..." So I replaced "ooze" with "flood" (what I consider a good move) and "roads" with "streets" (what we'll call a bad move). Oh well. And, even though the vocal track could probably be re-recorded to sound a bit better, I'm lazy. As for the guitar, I only use the three high strings, that's why it's a bit softer sounding. It also explains why the palm muting at the end doesn't quite sound as good. But hey, I'm not going for perfection here, just sub-par average. My songs are akin to Communism: they look good on paper, but don't quite execute as well as their potential. Hey, I like that! That needs to be added to the Disclaimer song...

Next week: a good song! For real! Thank you again for your patentience.

Fear not, I neither bring new stories nor an extremely long entry this time. Though I haven't written it yet, and with the way I love to ramble, time could prove me wrong. So it's now 8:05 am and I've been up for oh, 20-30 minutes. That's sad in many regards, the most sad being the fact that it's Saturday, and I do this about every Saturday. Usually by Sunday I can "sleep in" until 8:30 or so. Stupid getting up early for work making me get up early on my days off. Speaking of which, kind of, I might have a job at OfficeMax coming to me sometime next week which means I can get rid of this boring ass landscaping job. It has kept me pretty tan (read: too tan) and in pretty good physical shape (read: not that great but better than usual physical shape), but the actual work is just boring. I do enjoy getting paid 9 bucks an hour to drive around town all day as a matter of principle, but in reality, it's a lonely, solitary life, and apparently I've become less of a loner since high school. So OfficeMax would be cool. I could be the electronics specialist guy and then I'd be the envy of giant nerds everywhere.

Alright. So everyone's probably heard this already (though very few people who read this have probably heard this) but this was the big news last week. Here I was, naked in front of my computer at about 10 on Tuesday night. I was naked because it's hot in the middle of summer, and we don't use air conditioning. I was on the computer doing my rounds (reading comics, checking email, etc) before bed. Suddenly, after like 5 minutes of this, I look over at my window and realize the blinds are open, meaning any soul unlucky enough to walk by can see me. So I go something like "Oh shit" and I go close my window. No harm no foul, though I do remember thinking "man, I hope nobody saw me." So I go to bed at about 10:15, which I remember noticing because that's a little earlier than I usually go to bed, and I was looking forward to a long, wonderful night of sleep.
Come 11, a faint knock is heard on the door. Apparently this knock had been occurring for a while, because Cam told me, and because the police officer knocking looked a little upset when I peeked out, and he said "Open the door." I threw on some shorts and went out into the apartment to open the door. Cam walked out of his room at the same time, and together we faced the officer. He looks at us funny and goes "Do you guys live here together?" What we should have said was something like "Yes, and you're interrupting our nightly anal sex session," but what we said was just kind of a surprised "Yeah." So he goes "Who was on the computer earlier?" What we should have said was something like "I don't know, every single person in this country?" or "We're going to need a time frame on that one, buddy." But instead we just sputtered out a couple things like "Both of us" and "We connect through the same router" (which was an especially stupid thing to say and which I claim full responsiblity for). So he goes "Who was on the computer 15 minutes ago?" Nobody was on the computer 15 minutes previously, because we'd both been in bed for at least 45 minutes. But since Cam's girlfriend was over and they went in their room before me, probably not to use the computer, I volunteered that I was probably the most recent computer user.
The officer tells Cam to go to bed, and while Cam says he wanted to just hang out and see what's going on with this guy who never introduced himself, never identified himself as a policeman (other than his costume), and just walked right on into our apartment without being invited, he was scared like me so he went back to bed. The officer looks at me at says "You know what this is about, don't you." Since I had previously thought to myself "Man, I hope nobody saw me naked at the computer" earlier, I said yeah, though I was confused as to why the police were here. To the best of my knowledge, it's not illegal to use a computer while naked in the state of Colorado, but who knows, with conservative Christians (I mean, Republicans, like there's a difference) in control of this country. So he talks to me for a little while about how it shouldn't happen again, and I assure him that I'll keep my blinds closed forevermore, and he fucking calls my ID into the dispatcher like I'm some kind of criminal. What I really enjoyed about this guy was how he was treating me like I was standing in front of my window masturbating, slaughtering a chicken over a picture of Christ on the cross, and molesting young children. He seriously talked to me like I'm some kind of sex offender, when in reality if you know me, you've probably never even seen me without my shirt on, unless you've lived with me for a month or two, in which case I might have accidentally stumbled out topless one time.
With the police officer gone without an apology for waking us up at 11, keeping me up until 11:30 on a work night, I went back to bed, but could not fall asleep because of my intense anger and fear. Mostly anger at this point. Anger that someone would look in my room, which was completely dark, except for the light of the monitor, study the vague blog long enough to realize it was a naked guy, and get so offended that she would call the police. I say "she" because we've discussed this, and there is no guy in existence who would call the police upon seing someone naked, male or female. If female, he'd probably call his friends. If male, he'd go "Oops" and keep on walking. We've also decided this woman is a conservative, she's Christian, she's in her 50's, and she's a gigantic walking cunt, which you'd think you'd be able to see from a pretty good distance, but I've yet to find out who she is. If I do find out who she is, Cam and I are going to do something to her, though we haven't figured out what yet.
These are the morals from this ordeal:
1. I hate the police with a passion, and each time I have to interact with one, I hate them more. I think traffic cops are basically the scum of the earth, and if they all caught a horrible disease where their eyes rot out of their skulls and their brains leak out through their eye sockets in a hideously painful manner, the world would be a better place. Traffic cops, however, are angels in comparison to cops who show up at a dark, quiet apartment at night and wake them up for no reason. I can't even bring myself to write what should happen to those cops.
2. If I'm a sex offender in the police system now, I am single handedly going to tear this government down, or die trying. I'm not big on anarchy, but I'm also not big on a repressive dictatorship in which I can't even be naked in my own apartment, in my own bedroom, in the middle of the night.
3. I have, once again, lost all faith in the segment of "humanity" that calls the police on something like this. I don't mean all Christians, or, necessarily, all conservatives when I say this. I just mean the ones who want to make everyone else a conservative Christian. God damn, I hate republicans.
4. I just think I should repeat this: Cops are fucking scum. One time John's car died after a Lagwagon concert, and the police wouldn't give us a jump. They said they'd call us a tow truck. Fucking prick asshole dicks.

Moving on, I saw the Lawrence Arms last week by myself in Denver, and after freaking out about parking and scrounging through the loose change in my car to find a total of exactly three bucks, I got into Rock Island, which is a bizarre little goth club that is sometimes used for punk shows. I kept the tradition alive of getting a drinking wristand and not getting anything to drink. Cam and I do this because of all the times we couldn't get into shows or had to pay extra because we weren't 21. Take that, The Man. Anyway, Enemy You opened, and I've been a fan of theirs since I heard their awesome song on the Short Music comp, which they played, to my delight. They played a solid set of pop punk that I enjoyed way more than anyone else there. Next was Smoke or Fire, who played a really really good show. Their CD is pretty good, but their live show is very very energetic and tight, and I'd recommend seeing them. This was the second time I saw them, the first being opening for Against Me! in Houston. They were better this time. Third was the way awesome A Wilhelm Scream. They played all three songs I knew by them, and a lot more, and they're a riot to watch. Five guys jumping around, playing really loud, hard punk rock. Way good. If I hadn't been poor I would have bought a CD of theirs. They had a big fan base and lots of people were singing along and such. Then the Lawrence Arms came out and played the best show I have ever seen then play (seen them 3 times now). They played a wonderful setlist that included my two favorite b-sides, a couple more songs than usual off their first album, all of my favorite songs off Ghost Stories (including Minute, which is awesome, and, to my extreme surprise and happiness, Me and Martha Plimpton in an Elevator. I screamed like a little girl when I realized they were playing that. Then the usual excellent smattering of stuff from their newest two albums and the splits. My only fault was that they didn't play Quincentuple Your Money, the song that got me into them. Bren was entertaining as always, played a bass-only version of Every Rose Has its Thorn when Chris' guitar broke, and generally it was awesome. Best show I've seen in a long time.

I have on my list of things to write about Sarai. I don't know what I was going to write about her, except her name is spelled strangely for it being pronounced Sarah. I've been talking to her for hours and hours every day recently, and I really enjoy it. There are two problems right now, in my eyes. One, she's home in Maryland until August. Two, she has a boyfriend, though all signs point to that relationship not lasting. Ugh. She's way awesome though, and we're hanging out when she gets back, I think. Unless she solves her problems with her boyfriend and they start living together again. Which would be terribly disappointing for me, but then, terribly disappointing is a good adjective clause to describe how my relationships with women usually go, so it wouldn't be too suprising.

No Use for a Name is all I'm listening to lately, but not the new album, but Leche con Carne and Making Friends. They used to be a hell of a band. The new album is good but those albums are better. I finally like Leche con Carne, I always thought it kind of sucked. Now I like about every song on there. Also, I got the Lawrence Arms b-sides album for 5 bucks after trading in the splits and a couple other pieces of trash I had laying around, and I'm wearing it out, even though there are only like 4 songs I hadn't heard before.

Hokey dokey folks, Brian's been at home all week so I haven't been able to play pinochle. And he hasn't been able to put up a song. But I assume he's still planning on doing that. Real quick, comments for certain articles go at the top, as exemplified by Karo, the smartest girl I know, and at the end of each article is the author's name. Not that I don't like hearing my song is real good, but I haven't written any songs. Alright, check ya later.

You, my friends, are in for a treat. Because, once you finish reading this average post, you will be greeted with Adam's new short story, and it's a good one. So if that's not enough of a reward to suffer through this mindless drivel, well... scroll down and read the story now.

In an effort to post here more often, I'm starting a new feature. So here it is, the big unveiling of... uh... The Irreverent Times Music Fest '05. Or something. Here's the deal: Every week, I will record an original song and post it here. So that, by the end of five or six weeks, I'll have a very rough demo compiled. And here's where you come in. I'll be posting lyrics/notes and then a link to the featured song. I just want you to listen to them and enjoy them (if possible). If you like them, tell all your friends. If you don't like them, tell all your friends. Because it's more fun to ridicule people when you're with others than when you're by yourself. And feel free to post comments. If it's making your ears bleed, let me know. Maybe I'll stop. Unless you're masochistic. In which case, thanks!

So this week's song is called Disclaimer. As the title implies, it's my little statement about what you should expect with my songs. The link is here. You can do the Right Click, Save As thing, or whatever else you do, since you probably know more about computers than me. As for my comments on this song: I like it. It's not my best, but that's not what I'm going for with this. Also, of the handful of songs I've had laying around but never recorded, this is my most recent. What that has to do with anything, I don't know. I think if I were ever to make a real recording of this that's error-free, I'd put hand claps in here, since I feel like hand claps are a cool addition to any song, and it'd fit this one well. This song is also the closest I've come to writing a chorus where the lyrics repeat. It's just a simple, catchy (?) song that's self-deprecating and lots of fun to play. Enjoy!

Disclaimer
I’m not trying to change the world with these songs I wrote in my room. So forgive me if they seem unpolished or my voice sounds out of tune. I’ll just use these same three chords you’ve heard a thousand times before. And this melody? It’s recycled from all those songs you’ve heard before. Man, that sure is pathetic that I don’t even have the time to come up with a decent rhyme. Well, I guess I’m not a poet. But hey, at least I did know it. And, don’t worry, I’ll try not to whine, cause that’s not what I wanted. But sometimes I just can’t help it. You’re too hard to resist and I persist to be the one that you wanted. I hope that this song, like your voice, gets more beautiful with each replay and it grows on you, stemming subliminal messages as you nurture it with age. It’s like how we secretly love those pop songs that we’ve been told to hate (but they were what we wanted). And this is my guilty pleasure, writing these songs in my room that might just change the world for me and you. Cause, this is what I wanted. And I hope you want this too.

Thank you for donating 3 minutes and 56 seconds of your time. I appreciate it.

I just wrote a story and it's real short and I'm going to post it here. It's kind of experimental, reminds me a little of my old Forever story. Not so much a narrative as a list of details. It may not be in final form, but the structure's there. Anyway, I'm calling it The Heartbeat, though I also like The Silence of the Sunrise as a possible title. I'll probably have a more regular post coming in the week ahead, since my life is ohhhhhh so interesting. But for now, here's this.

The Heartbeat

It’s the smell of dust, the specks floating in rays of light, rising off a couch. The drip drip drip of the water slowly running from the faucet. The millimeters the tap is away from closed. The sound of birds chirping, a tweet, a whirr, something like a horse braying in fast forward. The soft rustling of the trees as a breeze ever so gently rubs leaves together, heard through a window left slightly ajar in a moment of forgetfulness.
The way the heat rises from the floor, the wood melting in the afternoon, like water rippled from a fallen leaf. Drops of sweat forming on a forehead imperceptibly, dropping down the slope of the nose, hanging on for a moment before diving to a small but growing puddle. The faint whisper of breath taken slowly, a fragile hint of sound that may or may not exist. The way the clouds move across the sky, forming shapes, shades that block out the sun.
The way the grass feels on the back of the neck, the hair standing on end, the soft scratching. The way for a moment there are no cares. The soft breeze that cools the wet skin, gently moves the hair. The way when eyes are closed, everything feels so peaceful. It’s the sunburn, the pain, the fun of picking off the dry skin. The concerned family, the knowing smiles, the sly winks.
It’s the way a boy feels when a girl brushes against him. The first time lips touch, the electricity that passes between two bodies when for that one moment the world doesn’t exist. The beating of two hearts perfectly matched, skin on skin. The way it feels so safe in embrace.
It’s the tears that come when something ends. It’s the astonishment that comes when the tears dry up, that inability to sustain emotion. The way the world keeps turning. The beating of a heart that knows its time is running low.
The creaking of an old house still settling after all these years. The fear of lying awake at night not knowing what it is. The noise, the future, the reason for lying awake in the first place. The way the mind can’t be turned off. The song that won’t leave long enough for sheep to be counted. The realization that counting sheep doesn’t help.
It’s cold nights alone with no heat. It’s warm nights together under sheets. It’s standing on top of a mountain, yelling at the top of lungs. It’s whispering sweet nothings in a lover’s ear. It’s dancing alone knowing nobody’s watching. It’s tripping down the stairs in front of a full house.
That orange red color of the sunset contrasted against the light light blue of the fading sky. The crisp smell of the air that signifies the coming of night. Watching storm clouds slowly roll in over the mountains. The lightning jumping from cloud to cloud, from cloud to ground. The pitch black cloud of smoke drifting peacefully into the air. The way that peace always follows strife. Sitting on a porch rocking slowly back and forth, nothing to do but waste the night away.
The blurry vision of waking. The wonder of time and location. Nervous glances around the room. The patterns imagined on the ceiling. The dark spot on the wall. The same surroundings on a new day. The amazement and confusion that life goes by so fast.
The elation of love and the devastation of heartbreak. The way the heart feels when it finds a match. The way everything pales when a child is born. The way people change so much with age.
The regrets of promises broken, people hurt, friends forgotten. The wanting to try it again, to say something different, to not do that one thing wrong. The lying in bed that one night and realizing it’ll be over soon. Remembering everyone ever known. Wishing people didn’t have to change. Wishing people didn’t have to leave. Wishing people didn’t have to die.
The way life seems to move in slow motion for a while, then speeds up beyond recognition. The way years are forgotten. The way seconds are remembered.
The way night falls day after day.
The heartbeat.
The intense pain as the world slowly slips away.
The heartbeat.
The incredible release as the world slowly slips away.
The heartbeat.
The silence of the sunrise in a newly emptied room.

God, has it been that long? Yes, Adam, it has. You should update more often. Whatever, God, sometimes I get busy. Don't try lying to me, I know you're just lazy. What are you, Santa Claus? You know what I'm thinking? Don't give me a lump of coal or anything. No, I'm not Santa, I'm God. Oh, right.

That's how my conversation with God went earlier when I expressed my disbelief at how long it's been since I updated this thing. It's been so long, in fact, that I had to make a list of shit to talk about. Thus, I will bold the topics and place them in front of the paragraphs for easy navigation when you want to show all your friends the brilliance of specific paragraphs in this post.

Motorcycle Diaries - The Motorcycle Diaries is one hell of a good movie, assuming you're literate in English or fluent in Spanish. Generally I'm not a big fan of having to read movies, but I do love the open road, and that's what this movie was about. South America looks like a beautiful place with a vibrant culture, and it reminds me of how sheltered I am as a United Statesian (American seems kind of pigheaded, since, you know, there are lots of countries in the Americas). I know next to nothing about anything outside of the US, and I place the blame for this on the US culture, which, since we think we're so dominant in every aspect of everything, doesn't bother to teach us anything about other countries. Looking at Machu Picchu through the eyes of a young Ernesto Guevara brought up deep feelings. You'd have to see the movie to understand, probably, but it really is amazing and saddening that a culture that produced such beautiful structures was wiped out and taken over by a culture that builds cities that are cramped and unattractive. Like the movie says, if the natives had had gunpowder and not the Spanish, the world would be a much different place. I want to travel all around the world at some point in my life to see other cultures in an attempt to understand the human condition better.

New Place - Couch - Deep stuff up there. Man. Anyway, Cam and I are living in the nice new place now, and we've been here for something like... a few weeks, a month, more or less, I don't know how long. But the point is, we still don't have a couch, because it's at Charlie's. He's finally bringing it now, though. A combination of rain and everyone working delayed the process of getting it over here. A living room is not much of a living room without a couch, though, that's for sure. We just moved a couple of our dining room chairs in there for seating, but it's really hard to lay down on dining room chairs. And it's really hard for me to lay on my bed and see the TV in the living room through the wall. So the couch will be great. Speaking of TV, we don't get cable anymore because we came to the conclusion that there's nothing ever on TV anyway. It occurs to me that not having TV is some kind of hipster thing to do, so don't get the wrong idea. We're just cheap and poor.

Record Player - Yesterday, I finally found a record player. We went to two thrift stores with no luck, though they did smell funny and there were strange people wandering around, so it wasn't a total waste. Then I saw some pawn shop and we went in and asked if they had record players, and the guy pointed us to these 200 dollar turntables. No sir. So we wandered around for a while and stumbled on a litlte 20 dollar record player, which is now hooked up to the TV, and I've listened to my Me First 7"s and they're way cool. I like records. Cam was impressed that my Eternal Cowboy CD is one of 250 or so white vinyls in existance. Yay for me.

New Job - Girl - I plant flowers for a living these days, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and it hurts my back. But it's outside, which is nice, and it's a pretty laid back company with few rules, which is nice. So overall, I'm glad it's only three weeks, because I'm not sure my body can take much more than that, but it's not a terrible job. I work with two girls and a crew chief, all of whom are neat. One girl especially has caught my eye, so assuming somehow I get some kind of confidence, maybe I'll ask her out this week. I asked her to a concert last week but she was going out of town. Asking her out a second time is going to take balls, and I am a woman, so we'll see about that.

Videogames - RE4, Megaman, Baseball - I finally beat Resident Evil 4, and it was awesome, and anyone who plays videogames should play through it. Definitely one of the top 5 games I've ever played. Now I'm playing Megaman X Command Mission, which is a pretty average RPG, and i'm not really driven to beat it, but I own it, and this summer one of my missions is to beat all the games I have but haven't beaten. Then there's MVP Baseball 2005, which is an amazing baseball game for those of us who like baseball. It wastes more of my time than anything else recently. The new videogame systems have been announced and shown, and PS3 is going to cost 460 bucks. No sir, I don't like it (name the cartoon and win!).

Haunted - I'm sure Brian plugged Sir Palahniuk's new book in his last entry, but I'll plug it again. Go get it. I'm like 50 pages from the end, trying to read it really slowly so it'll last me a while, but it's so damn good I can't help myself. Guts is the grossest story ever written. The Nightmare Box is amazing.

Experiment - Jesus, I have a lot to write about. Sorry about this. Anyway, at work, since I work outside and near streets sometimes, my new on the job experiment is to say hi to people who walk by. The results: Older men usually stop and have a short conversation with me, all guys at least say "what's up?", and about 70% of girls/women mutter something under their breath and walk faster. One of the girls I work with tells me that this is because at some point women become so jaded and arrogant that they think that every time a guy says hi to them, he's trying to have sex with them. Ladies, is this true? If so, you all suck.

Cooking (spaghetti, hamburgers, tacos - onion powder, salt, pepper, hamburger spice, red robin [stolen] spice)- That's a long heading, but I had to remind myself of what the hell I was talking about with "cooking." So yeah, Cam and I have never really cooked anything (except, of course, for my world famous delicious breakfast burritos). But we've managed to now cook lots of things. For example, we made spaghetti last night, and hamburgers on the grill tonight. The way we spice things, is we take everything we have that's in powder form (see list above in heading) and dump liberal amounts of it in there. It actually turns out making everything pretty tasty. The Red Robin spice has a little story: One time Charlie and I were eating there, and he goes "Wouldn't it be cool to take the spice?" I think I said yeah. But then he actually stole it, and then he gave it to me, and I was like "What am I supposed to do with this?" So it's been sitting in the cupboard for a few months now, and I'm finally starting to use it. And it's delicious. I am a master chef!

The Ol' Website - Mini Rants here - It occurs to me that the ol' website is pretty much out of commission, unfortunately. I think after they deleted our original website, we never regained steam. We had so much good stuff up there, and when it disappeared, it was like a part of our collective history just got blown away. Weak sauce. But this place is cool because we can rant about whatever's on our minds at the time. We don't have the readership we had at the old website because I have no idea how to promote this blog, but whatever. Sometimes strangers wander across the blog and like it, so that's good.

Trista - I noticed that Trista left a comment in here the other day. So I thought I'd say hi. I'll try to email you sometime and see what's going on. Congratulations on not working at Taco Bell anymore. If you're anything like me, there will be some serious, serious celebrations going on that last night when you're off. That was a hell of a night. Mario Party, Trista, is a wicked good drinking game, if you're interested. I can give you the details on how to do it and avoid getting way too messed up, like we did. We learned our lesson, let's just say that much.

Brian's awards - For lack of a better title. Brian got two comments on his last entry, one of which sounded like some kind of award or something, and the other of which was a nice stranger leaving a message. Way to be entertaining, Brian. Now if you could do it more than once every two months, we'd be in business.

So, in conclusion, you just wasted a long long time reading that. I bet you feel silly. See you next time.

So hey, I think it's time I make a new post here, regardless of the fact that I have nothing in particular to discuss. It's been, what, two months and some change since I've last graced you with my presence (i.e. wasted your time), so maybe that's just long enough for me to have something interesting to say!

A quick summary of two months, in less than one hundred and twelve words: MACRoCk was, as always, awesome (check out: Black Mountain, Magnolia Electric Company, Living Legends, Ahleuchatistas [they use music as a blunt instrument and do not fear hitting you over the head with it, repeatedly -- but it's awesome)] and then a few other bands I cannot remember after so long); a four week crazy marathon of class work that brought me to the brink of a nervous breakdown; finals week, which, in comparison, was a joke; a much-too-short week of relaxtion; and then back here for Astronomy during May session, with a teacher who looks, and acts, like a mix between Napoleon Dynamite (if he were a red head) and a Mormon. Enough said.

Speaking of my astronomy teacher, here are a few jems I'd like to share, to give you an idea of what a weird character this guy is:
1. (this is taken completely out of context, but I don't care) He said, in a condescending tone, "The Greeks got right some things."
2. He started off class the second day by mentioning how he ran over a rabbit on his way to work. Consequently, this earned him the "story of the day" award, which I can only imagine is a fierce and intense battle-of-the-ages held on a daily basis between him and his wife, the champion of which has to resort to bloodshed to ensure victory. Or something.
3. He thinks we should stop using the hard to pronounce, yet amazingly cool, Arabic names for stars, and replace them with their easy to pronounce English translations, leaving you with stars named "Bright Star" or "Red Star" or "Armpit."
4. He "watch[es] a lot of TV" (anyone who needs evidence that watching a lot TV has adverse effects, look no further). Best of all, he watches Cops, followed by America's Most Wanted. On a Saturday night.
5. It takes him, on average, 18 minutes to officially start class.

That's all I can think of for now. Stay tuned for more, as it's only been one week. Just imagine what kind of trinkets I'll have come three weeks from now!

Oh, something I forgot to mention in the quick summary: Next year, WXJM is moving from Anthony-Seeger to a new building. So I had my very last radio show in the old station during exam week. Originally, I planned to do a recap of the semester show, but since Yannos couldn't make it, it just didn't feel the same. So I never got around to playing some of the songs I wanted to. Which, finally, leads me to my point: Earlier in the semester, we had a show close to Bush's inauguration. As a form of protest, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek song singing the praises of our great leader. And for the exam week show I was gonna play the song, but with revised lyrics. Since a lot of shit happened in those four months. Here, for the first time ever, are those lyrics. Gotta love those crazy Republicans!

Oh I'm so happy we have such stability
Secured in the office of our presidency.
'Cause we have to keep a woman alive who's already been declared dead.
It beats allowing two guys from ever getting happily wed.

And social security, I think that's best left up to me.
With an IQ of 82, investing and protecting my life savings is a breeze.
Sure, gas is more expensive, but that's no economic crisis.
I'm content so long as I keep seeing Walmart's falling prices.

So sing with us now the praises of our bestest president.
'Cause we hold these truths to be oh so self evident.

Bill Frist is a cool dude, he thinks you can get AIDS from sweat.
And Tom DeLay, well, he can't possibly be a crook and a liar, I'd bet
it's just the liberal media that's distorting the truth.
I heard that from Bill O'Reilly, and for me that's enough proof.

And just who do these liberals think they are, wanting to filibuster?
I just don't know how much more of my compassionate conservatism for them I can muster.
'Cause it's not my right, it's my responsibility, to own guns.
And that AK-47 sure is looking swell next to the 19 other ones.

So sing with us now the praises of our bestest president.
'Cause we hold these truths to be oh so self evident:
that he's our bestest president,
a c-average student,
our president.

I don't really know how to segue from that to something else, so how's this: Here are my thoughts on reincarnation: I don't think it exists. Hey, I'm all for it, I think it's a way cool idea and if you think that's what happens when we die, then good for you. But here's my deal with the whole concept: it seems to me that it would destroy any sort of linear concept we have of time. How? Well, by this point in time, all of us would have many many many many past lives. Slice us open, and you'd see more rings than the trees in the Amazon and the California red woods have, combined. So, if we have each lived so many different lives -- and, most importantly -- at different times, then how is it that we are all living this life right now? Why do I only have the consciousness of this 21 year old male named Brian? Because our memories are wiped clean after every reincarnation? Maybe. But then why am I Brian, living presently in 2005? Why am I not someone from some other time in the past? And why couldn't I be someone living 500 years now? Because you have to die before you are reincarnated, that's the obvious answer. But what happens to my mind/spirit/soul/whatever, then? How can a part of me go on when I don't even know what the previous concept of me is? And what's preventing me from cycling through my future lives and is holding me in place at this current one? It seems like we'd be connected between our lives from the past and the lives we will live in the future, even if we don't have an awareness of those lives. And, because of that, there can't be any real linear progression of time, since it's just a jumbled mess. I don't know if I explained that very well, and there's probably lots of holes in my argument, but that's what philosophy majors are for. So feel free to debunk that theory however you please.

Whoa. That was too much thinking. I'm not even sure I follow myself. So let's move on to music. Songs you need to listen to: Boz Scaggs' "Loan Me a Dime," Max Richter's "On the Nature of Daylight," and Party Ben's "Walking with a Ghost in Paris." Also, if you haven't checked out his mashup of Green Day and Oasis, check that out first. CDs you should listen to: the Finding Neverland soundtrack, Weezer's latest effort (just since it's Weezer, and it's pretty good), Say Hi to Your Mom's "Ferocious Mopes" (listen closely to the lyrics to the song "Dimensions and Verticals"), and I found this string quartet tribute to Elliott Smith that's pretty kick ass.

Books! Fun reading season has begun, and it's been an exciting time. Al Franken's "Lies: and the Lying Liars who Tell Them" is an incredible book; Chuck Palahniuk's latest effort, "Haunted," is the sickest, most disgusting book I've ever read, but still gets my seal of approval since the short stories are incredible (90% of them) and it's an interesting look at our culture; "House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski is a ridiculously complex book with 4 layers (a guy, Johnny Truant, discovers the manuscript for a book written by an old blind recluse named Zampano. The book is about a film about the Navidson family, who moves into a house that does some fucked up shit. What exactly, I don't know, I haven't read that far). I have a feeling this book will freak me out, since stuff about old houses that do crazy shit scares me like nothing else. But the complexity of the book has me hooked, I love stuff that works on several layers at once.

Okay, this is much too long. If you're still reading this then you're either really bored or... really bored. Thank you for your time. Remember: life may suck, but at least you're not living in the Middle Ages, or feudal China (as a serf), or before electricity was invented, or back when "Beowulf" could be considered an edge-of-your-seat thriller. Sure, maybe you lived through all that in your past lives, but you're here now, let's learn something from it. Remember when you were a kid and were excited about everything, no matter how miniscule, how asinine, how inane (Hell yes, those are 8th grade vocab words right there!)? That child is still a part of you. Let's all act like kids again.

It is time for me to create a new post. So much has... not happened.

I am looking forward to summer. Cam and I are going to live in this sweet apartment way down south of town that's way nicer a place than either of us should be able to afford, but we're getting a deal on it. I was talking to Aja today and it turns out that she and her boyfriend are moving into an apartment right across the hall from us. That's just plain weird, but on the plus side, I'll have my cribbage buddy right next door, basically. Then we just signed the lease for the place we'll be living next semester, and it's also 25o a month. Hooray for cheapness. That place is like a garbage can compared to the place we'll be living during the summer, but I like it quite a bit. It has "character," and you can interpret that basically how you want to, and it would probably be right.

On the job front, I have a couple things open right now. Jiffy Lube called me and said I should come in and interview for a job with them. That might be fun but I don't know anything about cars so I might not get the job. I also applied for several jobs requiring resumes, which is a bold new frontier for me, and one company, an insurance company, has already contacted me and sent me a "prequalification interview" which I promptly filled out and returned. This job would pay 9 bucks an hour starting and would be full time, 8:30-5 Monday through Friday, and I think this would be the job to go for, as it would be great to put on a resume. Then I would finally have something on there besides "Sandwich Artist: Duties: Make sandwiches, be treated like a bitch."

Speaking of resumes, they're a weird beast. I forgot how to write a resume because I took a class about it at some point in high school and haven't written one since then. So I got on the internet and figured out what all's supposed to go in a resume. So basically a resume is a nice way to say "Lie to me about what you've done at your jobs in the past." Because what I do at Subway is make food and be treated like a bitch. But what I wrote on the resume sounded much more poetic. "Involved in all aspects of customer service, from making the food to answering the phones, answering questions and taking orders." That's just one of about eight points I made using vague language that made it sound like what I do is real work. Technically, I'm not lying. But I still felt a little dirty after I wrote all that.

There are a couple things I'm getting tired of. One, I don't currently, never have in the past, and probably never will in the future think that drinking alcohol is cool. People who tell me how much they drank, then blacked out/threw up/"hooked up" with some stranger are not impressing me, though they seem to think they are. Drinking a lot and being stupid are not skills. Vomiting is not something I like to do. I generally enjoy being able to remember where I've been and what I've done. And finally, I'm old fashioned and I think that relationships are the way to go. But I'm not moral and I'm going to hell because I'm not Christian. Whatever.

Secondly, a lot of dudes have been talking to me about their sexual escapades recently. Cam and I are of the school where we don't so much talk about that stuff. For me, anyway, it's again not something to brag about. It's a personal thing, and it's meaningful, and I don't really care about the "quickie" you got from some girl before work. If these people cared about the people they're with, they wouldn't go around divulging that information.

And third, girls will not look me in the eye. I don't know if it's just me, or if it's all guys, but they seem to have a major problem with eye contact. I think this is due to the unfortunate fact that they've been taught that all guys are trying to do all the time is get in their pants. Don't get me wrong, that's completely true, but we could at least go around pretending like we're just having a conversation. When I talk to people I like to look them in the eye, and it bugs me when I'm not getting any eye contact in return. There's nothing sexual about my asking if you want chips or a drink with that. I'm miserable, I'm doing my job, and the last thing on my mind is sex. The first thing on my mind is "Six days left of this job." That's actually the only thing on my mind, besides the usual "I hate you" or "I hate this job" or "I hate (insert noun here)."

Moving on to music, I think everyone should listen to the Glow. They're like an oldies band but new. It's way good, organ driven rock music. A couple songs even have the old "shoobie doo wop" backing vocals. It's a trip. I also still think that punk rock is the best music on the planet. Though I'm getting away from it a little bit, the raw passion that punk can have is amazing. This is found mostly in new punk bands, and they generally lose it when they sign to a big label. Sometimes I just want noise, I just want to turn off my brain and thrash around on the ground and scream at the top of my lungs, because then, for a minute, everything fades and everything is okay again.

Today we did some kind of experiment at work. We asked people if they know who Sid Vicious is. The correct answer, of course, is the bassist for the Sex Pistols. Since no one knew he was the bassist, we were accepting just the band as a correct answer. Lots of people thought he was the singer, but that's just because he's the only person they know from the Sex Pistols. Out of some 50-60 contestants, we had about 6 people get the band right, half of whom were men in their 50's. Virtually no girls got it right (one did, close enough, after some prodding). What was most interesting to me was the ways people acted when someone working behind a counter at a sandwich shop struck up a conversation with them. Some were obviously perturbed that this sandwich making machine was actually a person, a thought that had apparently never crossed their minds. They became quiet, meek little people, scared to tell us what they wanted on their sandwiches, apparently left in shock after discovering that lowly food employees are actually people. Other people were delighted to have a conversation, whether or not they got the question right. So this is a new thing for Brandon and me at work. Tomorrow's question will be "Who is Jimmy Page?" or "Who is Robert Plant?" The answer is basically the same either way, so we'll see. We figure if we ask questions about classic rock, most people won't get them right because they only listen to shit. We shall see, though. Maybe I'll write my honors thesis about this instead of the short stories. If they can't get tomorrow's question right, I might have to resort to asking people to name the Beatles, and if they can't get that, I give up on humanity. Again.

So I was all excited to go to the Suicide Machines concert last night, but was dismayed to find that it had been delayed a week. So this Thursday, if anyone wants to go see the Suicide Machines, let me know. I think Sarai might be down, Cam may or may not be down. Whatever. I'm going. And next Saturday is a can't miss show featuring Matson Jones at the Aggie, for five bucks. Come one, come all. It's unbeatable at that price. I'll even drive, for FREE!!!

Tonight I realized that these people who were protesting the Schiavo deal actually exist. This kid, I'll call him Jim, because I'm pretty sure that's his name, proved it. We were talking about the Sex Pistols and how Sid Vicious killed his wife and himself. Then this kid Jim comes up and tells me that Foghat or Toto or some crap like Steely Dan was the best band from the 70's. I told him to take his Steely Dan and shove it up his ass, because there were all kinds of good bands from the 70's, and Steely Dan ain't atop my list. They didn't start a musical revolution along with the Ramones, that's for sure. But then he tells me that Steely Dan could out rock the Sex Pistols, so I replied with "Oh yeah? How many members of Steely Dan killed their wives?" And he gets all pissed, and he starts going off. He says "Oh, so all of a sudden killing your wife is a good thing?" Seeing that I'd struck a nerve, and not liking the balding bastard already because of his terrible taste in music and combovers, I said "Yeah, in my book." So he asks me if I have a picture of Michael Schiavo hanging up in my room, implying that Michael Schiavo killed his wife. Let me reiterate something real quick: Terry Schiavo died fifteen years ago when she slipped into that coma. Michael Schiavo wanted everyone to go on with their lives and humanely allowed that to happen. Anyway, he listed Michael Schiavo in a list of people who killed their wives earlier, and when he asked me if I had a picture of him in my room, I said "Yeah, I have a picture of him taped over a picture of Jesus on the cross." But he was going off on some dumb religious moral shit and I left to go take out my anger on the dirt on the floor by sweeping. The point of this story is, if you're going to try to tell me I'm immoral, I'm just going to say something to you like "You know, Jesus was a homosexual" just to get your blood boiling, because, and this is the all important moral right here, I don't give a flying fuuuuuck. If you don't respect my religious and moral beliefs (or lack thereof) I don't respect yours. If you do respect mine, then I do respect yours, and I would never assert without any evidence that Jesus was in fact a homosexual.

In an effort to lose weight, I've started eating veggie subs at work, and they're not bad. You load up the veggies on there and they're a good amount of food. Douse it with some mustard of some kind and you've got yourself a healthy little meal there. Once I figure out how to get exercise by myself (i.e. buy a bike and ride it) I won't have to eat healthy anymore. Eating healthy is stupid.

Tomorrow Cam and I are going to throw the ball around. I'll call Charlie and Danny too, and if we could get some type of baseball game going, that would be awesome. Oh, how I've longed to play baseball. I'm going to try to play softball next semester or whenever it starts. It's not the same, but it's as close as I can get. Also this weekend the three of us are going to go over our housing options for next year and try to get that under control. And I might drop a class or two, since I discovered that I only need three classes to graduate next semester, one of which is the honors thesis which is not technically a class. So I only need two. Therefore I will be attempting to find a full time job so I can make some real money for once.

I guess I should get back to the reading. If you were offended by this edition of the Irreverent Times Journal, instead of writing me hate mail, ask yourself why you take your beliefs so seriously, and take comfort in the fact that in 60 some odd years I'll be rotting in hell and you'll be sitting pretty in heaven.

Well folks, this past week was one of the worst in recent memory. Everyone died: Johnnie Cochran, Terry Schiavo (good for her), the pope, and worst of all, Mitch Hedburg, officially the funniest dude on earth. I was thinking the other day and I realized that Terry Schiavo's parents and all them on their side are probably all pissed that the pope had to go and die right after she did, because now all their media coverage is gone and they're not famous anymore. And in personal news, Leslie and I are "on hiatus." She came up to see me crying, not wanting to do it, but I think I bargained her down from completely breaking up with me to giving it a rest. It could end up being good for us. It could end up being the end of us. Who knows. It hurts, that's all I know for sure. Relationships are funny things. When they're going well you feel like everything in life is fine. When they're going bad, or worse, they end, it's like the end of the world. It's not, of course, the end of the world, but it sure feels like it. So apparently I'm supposed to start dating other people, but I don't really want to, and I don't know anyone who'd be interested in dating me. Meh. Whatever.

To take my mind off things I've been trying to get outside and do things the past couple days since it's been in the 70's here, but everyone's always busy with other stuff. This leads me to my usual rant about how life shouldn't be wasted working and going to school, but my rebellious spirit, like so many others, is slowly being crushed by the gigantic soul crushing machine that is the society we live in. So fuck it, waste away, go to school, work, never accomplish anything, never have time for yourself, because apparently that's how we're supposed to be. Alive for 75 years but never living. Thanks, society!

I want to get in better shape again. I'm all soft and squishy, which is a good quality for a stuffed animal, but not for me. But I don't like running or doing things alone. I get bored. I like playing sports, but I need other people. So I guess the point is, if you like to play catch, baseball, basketball, tennis, racquetball, anything like that, for the love of God, let's play something sometime. I'm sick of sitting inside.

One of the girls who lives above us has a pink cell phone. As a hard and fast rule that applies 100% of the time, girls with pink cell phones are bad people who you should never hang out with. So are girls who wear little mini-skirts and fuzzy boots, guys who wear pink button up collared shirts, and people who say "like" more than any information-carrying words in sentences.

So I registered for classes today, except for the psych classes I want to take because I'm not a psych major and I'm not allowed in until a month from now. Registration time started for me at 2:10, and I suspect it started for most people around then. I had to skip class again, as I do every semester. This may sound weird, but I don't like skipping class. I like learning. I'm a nerd. Point is, everyone is in class at 2:10. Why doesn't the school make registration start in the evening, at like 7? It seems stupid to me to make people skip class to get registered to make sure they get the classes they need to graduate. Danny waited until 3 and the honors seminar was full. Someone, however, decided that the middle of a school day is a good time to register for classes. Logic? What? Never heard of it.

I think if these crazy right wing nutjobs who are all anti-gay marriage ever sat down and talked with a gay person they'd realize that they're just normal folks who are attracted to people of the same gender, and there's really nothing in them that's threatening the fabric of life itself. But no, these are the people in charge of our country, and they're convinced that there's an evil monster out there just waiting to destroy civilization as we know it with their... gayness. The world is a sick, sad place sometimes.

Anyway, I'm especially bitter recently because of all the shit going on in my life. On the plus side I got a pack of cards and a T-shirt for finishing the spring beer tour at Old Chicago. Now I can stop drinking. Mission accomplished. Blah. It's pinochle time.

So Terry Schiavo. That's a sticky situation, huh? I mean, the woman is alive. But, she's not really... alive. Her husband wants to remove her feeding tube and her parents don't want to. Anyway, alls I'm saying is I'm glad I'm not in that situation and I don't have to make any decisions. But, I do have problems with two groups of people involved in this thing. Or should I say, two groups of people who are involved but have no business being involved in this thing. Namely, the government and the protester people outside. One, I thought republicans were for less government. So what's the deal with legislation that directly interferes with a personal matter? I hate the government enough right now without them trying to directly interfere with our lives. They're already fucking up on a world scale with the Iraq invasion that was supposed to be over a year and a half ago. They don't need to fuck with us individually. I'm sorry that Christians have such a high value on everything that resembles life, but all because our president is a coke head... I mean a drunk driver... I mean a born again Christian doesn't mean that we can prevent people from dying. Bush needs to go back to Crawford, Texas or wherever he's from and just take a three year long vacation so he doesn't screw anything else up.

And speaking of Christians, there are a bunch of these holier-than-thou fucks stationed outside Jeb Bush's office and the hospital where Terry Schiavo is. What they're doing is telling me that because I don't agree with them that I'm a bad person. I resent that. If these people truly cared about anything besides getting on TV and trying to get laid by impressing other Christians with their holiness, they'd do something more constructive to the world. If they care about life so much, why not donate some money to some charities? Join the peace corps? Go to a third world country and work at improving the quality of life? Why not go home and try to improve the quality of life for people who actually live on a daily basis? Terry Schiavo had it rough, it's sad, it's unfortunate. But she's one woman who is basically a vegetable for the rest of her life. I'm missing the point of hanging out outside and reading from the Bible. I can't stress this enough: YOU CANNOT BASE YOUR LIFE OFF OF A BOOK. You can base your life off of the solid moral foundation that the Bible puts forth. But we don't live 2,000 years or longer ago. We live now. Things have changed a tiny bit since those days. Sodomy (and I mean stuff like oral sex, not just anal, and sorry if sex bothers you) is illegal in many states because people 200 years ago were puritans and couldn't stand the idea of someone putting something like that someplace like that. But nowadays we're much more openminded and I can't remember the last time anyone got arrested for sodomy in this country. What I'm trying to say is that rules change over time, and there are now situations where life is not so clearly life. Fetuses. Comatose people. Where were these protesters and pro-life fuckers when children got shot and killed up in Minnesota recently? Isn't their deaths more tragic than one woman who doesn't even know she's alive being humanely lead to sleep? They're down there in Florida because they want to be on TV. They want to impress people. They want compliments. They don't know or care about Terry Schiavo. They've never met her. If someone I loved was dying, I would be pissed if a bunch of strangers who don't know my loved one and don't have any idea what she's been through or what she was like, I'd be pissed if they showed up and started telling me how to handle it. This is a personal matter in the Schiavo family. Everyone else should stay the fuck out of their business.

I was talking to Max today about our pessimistic attitudes. People say we're negative. But you know what? We enjoy being negative. We enjoy doing things out of spite. For example, it's election time here on campus, and running are the yellow people and the green people. I don't know their names but those are the colors of their signs. A guy from the yellow camp came and talked to us while we were trying to get inside without being bothered. So we decided that if we were going to vote, we'd vote for the green people to spite the yellow people. Today we decided that this is a perfectly legitimate reason to do something. So if you know some pessimists or spiteful people, leave them alone, because that's all they really want. You have no idea how annoying it is to hear about how negative we are, or how quiet we are, or how we never smile. We smile. We talk. But we only do these things when we're around people we like. If we don't talk to you or smile at you, we don't like you. That's that. Go spite!

On basketball: It's boring. But it's marginally less boring during this march madness business, if only because of my strange affinity for brackets.

Snow sucks and I don't like walking in it because my shoes are old and have holes in them and my feet get cold and wet.

We made it back alive. There were some sketchy moments, but we managed to make it to and from Texas with no tickets and no deaths. The 14 hour drive into Dallas started at 3pm and ended around 5:30am Texas time. Then though I was too tired to do anything else and just wanted to go inside, Cam said it was too early (he was probably right) and so we drove around until 7, then we went inside and passed out on the couch or floor, depending on who we are.... yeah. So the next day we went via train and saw some of downtown Dallas, including where JFK was shot. We went through the museum. Outside crazy conspiracy guys talked to us and tried to get us to buy their crazy conspiracy books. Then we went to a delicious barbecue place that had fried okra! I was so excited! I ate it and it was delicious! I forgot I was in the south and wondered why they had fried okra. Then I remembered where in America Texas is.

Saint Patrick's day we didn't go out. We went and saw Sideways for free because Dave is a master lockpicker. Or he worked at the theater and knows how to do that. It was good but could have been half an hour-15 minutes shorter. Anyway... oh, that's what we did that day. On 7 bucks we played lazer tag, putt putt golf, and arcade games. Yay for middle of the day, midweek specials. I came in second in putt putt. I'm no good at lazer tag. I lost both games of air hockey. But I had a good time. And we met Dave's girlfriend and she seemed cool, but we were all tired so we didn't get much socializing in.

Third day was the Against Me! concert in Houston, which, despite being right next to Dallas on a map, is four hours away. We ate at a cajun place because Cam had never had Cajun food being from Oregon. It was good but the green beans tasted funny. Then we drove. Watched the concert, at which they played Impact, which they said they'd never play again, plus six new songs. The four opening acts were nothing to shout about. They ranged from bad (O Pioneers, Communique) to mediocre (Saw Wheel, Smoke or Fire). The place was all tiny though, which made for a good energy, but bad being able to see and enjoy the music show. Then we drove all 17 hours back home. We were driving having had no sleep for 27 hours. It was very bad and I don't think I would do it again. But it's like free drugs. Which is good or bad. We ate at IHOP smelling like cigarettes from the concert and sweat, our hair was all messed up, we hadn't shaved in a week. We couldn't think straight to talk to the waiter. Then I came home and went to sleep for like 14 hours.

Today I tried to read but I don't think it's happening. Too hard to transition back into school after all that time off. We visited lovely Kanorado, which is a scary, scary town. We got saved from tickets twice. The first time this guy kept following me no matter how fast I went, so I got upset, then he got pulled over instead of me. The second time we were following someone and I had to pee. Then we found them pulled over down the road a ways. Gas is expensive. The new Lucero song on the Atticus comp is way good. I'm hungry.

On the eve of the great Texas adventure, I am full of hope. Hope that this trip will be fun, that the concerts will rock, that it'll give me an excuse to listen to 34 hours of music, that I'll get a little bit of reading done, and that I'll maybe be able to think about my life enough to figure out what I want out of it. I'm going to make a delicious breakfast burrito tomorrow morning, pack lots of turkey and cheese and bread, some granola bars, combine this food with Cam's stash, and head out. If we live, which I don't see any reason why we wouldn't, I'm sure there'll be stories to be told. For example, if we drive by the World's Biggest Gopher, you can bet your ass we're taking pictures. So the 15th is the drive. We leave at about 2, get in to Dallas on the 16th about 9am. Sleep. Go to Queens of the Stone Age that night. The next day is Saint Patrick's Day, which I'm sure we'll spend out with Dave. Then, the 18th, is Against Me! Then we'll either sleep or just come back, getting back on the 19th or 20th. Wish us good luck.

Cam and I went hiking up Greyrock the other day and it was way awesome. I'm still sore two days later, but that's because I'm out of shape. The hike up kind of sucked, and the hike down definitely sucked (except for the rock, which was pretty neat), but up at the top, above all the trees, away from all the people, you can just see for miles. It's not quite a spiritual experience, but it's as close as I can remember coming. The wind was blowing like a motherfucker, and I felt like I could die at any minute because hopping along narrow rocks is not my specialty. But it was great, and I'd do it again anytime. Maybe even by myself when I just need some time to think things over. We took lots of pictures, which I'm sure some of you will be getting at some point because I think they're neat. Great scenery. It turns out there is some bonus to living in the mountains. I guess (and here I go again, getting all philosophical) that the lesson I'm learning is if you just look around, there's so much interesting stuff. You don't have to just settle down into a job or school and just do nothing but work all the time. That's just the image society portrays. Honestly, people get all worked about about all the minor shit, myself included, but fuck it man, just take some time for yourself. Hop in the car and go somewhere. Not a tourist attraction or anything, just drive somewhere new. It's so interesting, to me anyway, to see new places and things, yet I never actually take time to do anything. I get all involved in all my stupid reading, and Subway, and all that kind of mundane everyday stuff, that I don't even take the time to notice that the mountains pop up from nowhere just to the west of here. I never drive up the Poudre and enjoy the scenery. I don't try to meet new people. I just kind of wallow around not doing anything. But this spring break, I'm not going back to Conifer. I'm going somewhere new. I'm trying new things. It's going to be a great trip, if only because it'll get me out of Fort Collins, out of this part of the country, away from everything I see every god damn day of the year, and into a whole new place. I don't have to be myself, really, because none of these people I see down there will ever see me again (except Cam). It's so liberating. So what if it's just Texas, and everyone's been to Texas? I'm doing my best to be optimistic here, and that's not easy for me. Anyway, that's all. Have a good spring break, everyone who goes to CSU. If it's not your spring break, then just have a good week. Try not to let life break your spirit.

Here's a super depressing thought: somewhere there are people who actually enjoy watching The Simple Life. You know, that show with the stupid Hiltons and they're doing stupid things because they're stupid? Yeah. Well, that thought was enough to send me into a downward spiral of despair and melancholy that I have not yet been able to free myself of. Ok, that's an exaggeration, but still. It's true and that makes me worry about the world we're living in.

Speaking of worrying about the world we're living in, you should. There's just so much shit going on. Although my main sources of news are The Daily Show and Real Time with Bill Maher, I've got to be more informed than those nitwits who believe Fox News is a news channel. The things I've been hearing about recently, they scare me. Check out this bit Bill Maher did on his show a couple of weeks ago:

MAHER: And finally, New Rule: Leave the children behind! At least, that is, until they learn something. A new survey finds that only half of America's high schoolers think newspapers should be allowed to publish without government approval. And almost one in five said Americans should be prohibited from expressing unpopular opinions. Hey, let me tell you little darlings something: this is my livelihood you're screwing with now! So either learn the Bill of Rights, or you don't deserve Social Security. Now, to those of you who think I am over-reacting, yes, I understand that being in high school is still very young, and no one really cares what kids say anyway. It's not like priests are dating them for their brains. But the younger generation is supposed to rage against the machine, not for it. They're supposed to question authority, not question those who question authority. And what is so frightening here is that we are seeing the beginnings of the first post-9/11 generation, kids who first became aware of the news under an "Americans need to watch what they say" administration, kids who've been told that dissent is un-American, and therefore justifiably punished by fine, imprisonment or loss of your show on ABC.

I've used colons a lot in this entry: that's a fact.

It's been a while since I've written something in here. Not like anyone's complaining. But that's due to me not having a lot of time to write in here and me not having a lot of stuff in my life that's interesting enough to waste your time with.

I've also ended a lot of sentences in this entry prepositions with (5).

Before Spring Break, there was a really good show at the Court Square Theater. It was the first WXJM sponsored show of the semester, and three bands played: some guy (I missed his act because I was chained behind the cage [the ticket booth]), Invert (really good), and the Rachels (really, really good) (with or without an apostrophe, I'm not sure). Invert is a 4-piece with two cellos, a violin, and a viola. I know you're thinking, "That's a kick-ass combo," and it sure is. The Rachels/Rachel's is an instrumental band that played some silly trying-way-too-hard-to-be-artsy videos during their set, but the music was good, and that's the important thing.

For Spring Break I went to New York for a few days with Yannos and his swell buddies Terry and Mike. A fun time was had by all. Here are the highlights in 30 seconds: Central Park on a brisk, overcast winter afternoon. The 24 hour market across the street with everything you could ever want to eat - and more. "Death alley," which is easily accessible by opening the large window in your 12th floor hotel bathroom that has zero bars/locks/other preventative measures whatsoever. The Comedy Love Call (more on this later). Riding the subway. Finding handicapped accessible subway stops. Not finding handicapped accessible subway stops. Not relying on cars for transportation. Being able to find really good pizza at 1 in the morning on a Monday night/Tuesday morning. Plasma screen TVs and really bad cable programming. The promenade that overlooks Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge on a breezy, cool night. All the dining experiences (some Polish, some Chinese, some Italian - all very good). Feeling discriminated in Chinatown. Yannos swindling himself out of 3 bucks and a copy of "The Onion." Times Square at night. That feeling that you're never alone, that there's always something going on, that what's around you is beautiful and you're a part of it.

Parenthases have also been an integral part of this entry (but when have they not?).

So, the Comedy Love Call. What was it? It was a comedy show benefiting autism research and some amazing people stopped by to do stand-up routines/skits. People like: Jon Stewart, Lewis Black, Stephen Colbert and Stone Philips (Stone was quite the surprise), Al Franken (another surprise), David Spade (yet another surprise), Conan O'Brien and Max Weinberg (Max was, you guessed it, another surprise), Adam Sandler, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Horatio Sanz, and Triumph. And music by Fountains of Wayne and other people I didn't recognize. Yes, it was amazing. Yes, it was incredible. Yes, I got an overpriced t-shirt. But why not? It was a once in a lifetime deal, so I splurged.

The rest of my break will be less exciting, but much more relaxing. I will finally catch up on some much needed sleep and some much needed fun reading (currently: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers and McSweeney's Mammoth Collection of Thrilling Tales). In music land, you should listen to Lagwagon's Live in a Dive, Explosions in the Sky's The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place, and pre-order Fingers Cut Megamachine's self-titled CD - it'll be sure to impress. Until next time, keep your mind out of your pants your hand hands out of the gutter.

So today's Charlie's birthday. Happy 21st. Yay. To celebrate, Danny and Charlie and I went to Hooters and played trivia. We placed third and won ten dollars, which we promptly used to pay for our alcohol tally. I have to give a shout out to Cam for pulling through on the tie breaker question for us. Compuserve. Genius. Sometimes I wish I still didn't drink. Things were a lot cheaper back then. Tomorrow Cam and Charlie and I are going out for Charlie's birthday part 2, and we're going to the Rio for margarita night, then proceeding...somewhere else, probably. Who knows. Not having class early on Thursday is good. Then Thursday I'm taking Charlie to the airport so he can go to Florida for spring break. Huzzah.

I know I've said this before, and I know I've got some backing on this, but geese suck. I propose legislation that says if I see a goose standing in the middle of the road shitting on things, I can hit it with my car instead of waiting for it to take its sweet time to move out of the road. Geese should be made extinct. I walk to school to save gas and the environment and all that crap, and to get a little exercise, and it'd be nice to be able to look at where I'm going instead of making sure I'm not stepping in goose crap. Speaking of crap, there's some dog crap on my path too, and I'm having a good time watching it decompose over the past few weeks.

I got a story published in the honors literary magazine. The story is "Forever" and can be found at the website listed to the right. It's pretty cool. I'm going to submit some stories to a contest in the hopes of winning $1500. Right. That'll happen.

Listen to Armchair Martian.

The Facebook has become addicting. I like browsing through all these groups and crap. Damn that website. It has put me back in contact with some high school buddies, and that's kind of cool, I guess. Also, Mark Hanks from high school emailed me the other day and Mark is a cool cat.

I guess I'd like to take this time to thank my friends for being cool guys and all the stuff that's associated with that. I'm sure there was more stuff I was going to say, but I really can't remember any of it. I have to start writing things down.