The Trip. Part II. The Show.

Words to describe the opening band of the show at Nancy Raygun, Feb. 24th:

- the sound check of a cancer patient.
- a down syndrome bowel movement.
- blink182 melanoma.
- the soundtrack of a cyborg holocaust.
- cyanide unicorns fucking.
- uganda, the country.

Plus... Plus there's a midget here.
No joke. NO JOKE.
Line of the set: "niggaz on my momz side, niggaz on my dadz zide." GREAT.

An imagined completely false conversation:
"What does she look like?"
"Well ya know Sarah Silverman? Imagine her... Decapitated from the neck up."

A guy has SOMETHING with bat wings tattooed across his throat.

see a pretty girl, turn the eyes away.
See a pretty girl, turn the eyes away.

The Trip. Part I. Departure.

It's 5:20am. I haven't slept since last night. Mostly because sleep hasn't been the kindest beast to me lately, and I know that tonight might've been the night that it would've ben the kindest. Because that's when it would've been the worst. So I'm sortve floating in the awkward father/son silence that us Men always have to deal with. Just knowing and respecting that he drove me and that I understand the sacrifice must be enough, I guess. I just heard a song "Don't Do Me Like That," and he just taught me that it was by Tom Petty. I never knew that I loved another song by this guy. That's 3. And now Space Oddity by Bowie is on. I've been realizing that I like a lot of oldies that I never admitted before. The Cars, and Huey Lewis and the News keep coming up, whether it be commercials, or radio, or movie soundtracks and I'm really starting to get to the point where I want to buy their records. Tack ZZ Top onto that.

I hate that my keys have been taken away. It's not that they won't work, it's that everytime I press a key that is broken, the entire screen will glitch. Why. The road trip that I've been waiting for (tho I am not the driver) and the hands free to write and it has to get ruined now. This is the height of frustration. 717am. Zero words allowed.

It's 1101am. The letters are barely allowing me to use them again. We're at a rest stop in baltimore. We took an exit I remember passing when the trip here was something I would do regularly. The roads have been gray and solemn, much like the ride. Every passenger on this bus (save one elderly woman and one german girl two rows behind me) is the portrait of poverty. I feel so out of place. I think even the driver thinks I have the wrong bus... He had to ask me where I was going when I handed him the ticket. I was the only one. We had a stop in Newark, NJ almost immediately after leaving the city. Again, another area that looked completely ravaged. An older woman (tho the circumstance could age her past her years) sat on a bus stop with a tall Coors Light in her lap. She was definitely rocking, almost definitely weeping. What a sight.

A girl just got back onto the bus smelling like mj. That's one way to travel. She's alone. In fact, I think there are only two groups of two on this bus. And one group of three. The rest of us have our own plans.

104pm. I wish I brought my ipod. And I still hate my keys.

Were in VA now. Just waiting to get to richmond. Were marked to be there in an hour and a half, but I think it'll be a lot sooner. We've hit no traffic and are coasting very smoothly. We pass cars and I half wish I drove. I definitely want to get my car scoped out when I get home. A drive to Boston with a ton of doubts and a passenger won't be fun. And to need to take the entire length of the east coast sortve justifies a thorough look.

I realized this is the first time I left the tri-state area by road since I met Tina. What happened. I wish I knew another traveller. I wish brian and rah weren't so cemented here. I wish carissa had the ability to let ppl down. I wish kerry would just do it. Nicole and I discussed future possibilities. I think we will do something awesome before I'm done. I don't even know when that will be.

[This should have been posted @ 2:30pm on Thursday. Couldn't because of broken keys.]

just pull us in.

She's 45... And perpetually wounded.
"She's mamed. Completely mamed."

That's what we said about this woman. I didn't even know her. I still don't. I don't really care to. There's so much about life that will simultaneously be tragic and hilarious at the same time.

Today I started to actually nail down what's up with moving. The entire situation behind it. I actually talked to Nici about it, mostly because when it's me and dave talking about it, obviously, we're both going to be stoked on it, and just driving driving driving through how great it's gonna be. But to get that third perspective of someone who's actually going to be there... someone who's lap I'm completely dropping into... was completely refreshing. It was just a new sense of closure that I needed. In talking about all of that, it helped to figure out a lot of the smaller things like what to bring down there and the whole permanent vs temporary argument. The thing is, I don't think I ever wanted it to be permanent. That's not where I see myself "ending up". It's just a piece of the world to get my feet wet in. We'll see where it takes me. I know it's going to be something to experience and I'm hoping the learning experience and the memories outweigh the things like planning the next step and the homesickness.

Tomorrow I leave for Virginia. It's been about 2 years since I've been there. I remember really loving the atmosphere and the whole vibe of the place being great. Let's see how it is this time around. A lot of things are completely different than they were back in the original days of the visit.

Steve's going everywhere.

close your eyes long enough so it seals.

A six pack of Red Stripes could really be all it takes to stir just a bit... just a little bit of unemotional written dumpage. For whatever reason, the numb face, the nicholas cage narration, the light on my face, the unfamiliar room, it all stirs something on the inside that calls for release. An unknown desire to get every single word down on paper, on a screen. The eyes closing when they want to, the one liners that make me say "nice."

Which me really counts?

There's the beginning with the Quentin Tarantino movies, The Get Up Kids, Alexisonfire, Beloved, and Hopesfall that has absolutely no connection with Her. The part of me that was me that never got melded with her. The part of me that believed in a singluarity and a strength that would attract absolutely no one. The part of me that could die today free from a wish or a letdown or a night out at a restaurant. The me without the knowledge of horror movies.

Or is it the me that tells them about new music? The shows, the reviews, the photos, the new tracks from bands? The me the thinks that without me, it's just myspace.com and bulletins, and li_scene, and word of mouth. The me that thinks I have something to do with the unity and the turnaround of a long island scene. The me that never belives the hype. The me that still, really, thinks that only a baker's dozen people watch the site.

Or is it me that drives around with Her. That shows Her new songs. That laid with Her. That rented movies for Her that I thought would really make her smile as she made us dinner. The me that took Her to movies. The me that saw Kill Bill 2 with her, when she held my hand for the first time. The me that trusted her because she was too innocent, and too pure to become what she became. The me that saw Her for Her '04, not Her '06. The Her '06 that fucks a guy in a house without love. The Her that will be something in me, but will find brand new things in life. The Her with her own path. The Her that doesn't need the me. Any of the me.

The Her that I may or not message once this bottle is empty. Fuck.

Is it the me that thinks the world of X, that can't be without X, and that doesn't want to be without X. I see X and I know X can't be without Y. I get embarassed when I think about X, and it's because I never believe in me or what I will be. Words, and nervousness. Is it the me that looks at her the way I never should, is it me that wants to bring her everywhere. Is it me that can't make the distinction?

Is it me that never was?

Some messages I sent tonight:
"Yo man. Let me tell you something about Red Stripe. It's twice as enlightening as God and three times as stylish as Jamaica. Hope your weekend is awesome.'

"AND I NEVER HESITATE TO PUT A NIGGA ON HIS BACK!"

"Hope everything is perfect. Live it like you wrote it. Xo."

"Everything. Nothing. I smoked too much and felt you in the same state of consciousness. Live, feel, and be. Nothing will make me happier. Even if we never speak again. Please don't respond."

The Her that's too busy.

Breathe. Sigh. Lungs appreciate.

Asking Rahul a question about firearms. Then seeing Ethan Hawke.

Not believing that Mike didn't like Adaptation.

From now it's Richmond on a Thursday, and Boston on a Saturday.

A new life in Florida, North Carolina, and Richmond. Possibly Boston. Taking over cities a month or two at a time. Finding their hearts and beating with them. In sync, in time.

1/4 a bottle left. 3 oz. Then I pee it out. Ill keep the alcohol, and let it navigate and further filter out the life inside.

"Everything that comes from the Earth eventually returns." - Nicholas Cage reading a script.

"All I've done in my life is be pretty. All I've done is be born."

breathe words, catch them in the ink net.

empty water bottles are everywhere in here. one open on the desk, one on the floor next to a poster tube, one under my desk where my feet should be. two on the fridge, one on the bookshelf, and one on the dresser. 3 records sit on the floor, waiting to be judged by me and me alone. i'm just not in the mood to take those on right now.

lately, all i've been doing is writing. things i destroy, and things that i read, and things that i'll love in my head, but hate in my mouth, and things that i want to show everyone, or select someones.

lately, i've been a writer.

i'm right now reading this interview with Steven Graham Jones and realizing just how hard it is to ever make a living off of writing for entertainment. fiction. imagination. it doesn't really make me want to give up, although i can imagine that it should. it makes me want to give it a strong, honest shot. the things this guy is saying (that he's got a huge three ring binder of denial letters, and only 10% of any proposals he's ever had have been accepted; the fact that he wrote five novels before even one got published) are so completely bleak. it gets me thinking along the lines of... am i really meant to even touch anyone more than just a handful of surrounding people? am i just going to be one of those pathetic starving artist types passing out my manuscripts to a few people who know people who work with people who know people? i like to think not.

i've always said, though, that my career won't be in fiction. i think i just don't have the amount of talent needed to really thrive in that vein of work. i feel like my strength is more word usage than story. story is key. story is heart. words are just the method. we'll see.

my short story has been compared to Chuck books or Fight Club about 30% of the time. the other 70% don't know about either.

actually, graham jones touched on an important point in this interview that i've talked to brian about, and that i just brought up to kerry earlier tonight. chuck has completely changed the landscape of fiction writing. his minimalism, his directness, his narrative style. i feel like he changed what first person writing should be like. it's unbelievable what he's done. i mean, i used to write before him. and i never thought that he'd bleed through so much in my writing. i feel like some of the other stuff i have in the pipes isn't as much in his tone, but i know for sure that "the better half" was very much him. it's scary to think that the first thing i've done since i've read him has wreaked entirely of his keys. tsk.

i've really been starving for criticism and opinions on that. i got some tonight which was a little bit more thought out than i'd expected. two people told me that they're looking to write thoughts out etc. that's good. i just hope it eventually comes through. rahul made a really good point tonight. pretty much my exact polar opposite in life, dan harris, is someone who also happens to be a writer. and rahul decided it'd probably be the most brutal/honest thing to do to give him a read through, and just see what comes out. it's intimidating to say the least, but i'm interested to see a completely new demographic and what they think about it. i'm crossing my fingers and hoping he'll be at least cohesive in his destruction.

April 13th, Steven Graham Jones releases Demon Theory which I might check out. once i finish these books that i've got to read:

• Ayn Rand - Atlas Shrugged (about 300 pages in... only 800 to go)
  
• Andy Greenwald - Nothing Feels Good
  
• Tiffanie Debartolo - God Shaped Hole
  
• Bret Easton Ellis - The Informers
  
• Saul Williams - The Dead Emcee Scrolls
  
• Marc Etkind - ... Or Not to Be - A Collection of Suicide Notes

let's see what we can do from here.

i made a mistake.

pay attention, now that i'm saying this,
because it almost never happens.

i hurt so badly right now.

not a technicality at all.

all of this snow,
i feel like i'm holding my breath.

there is no escape, no options; no there, only here.
i hate it.

the ultimate escape from all of this heartache has been the ability to independently live in any manner or fashion that i see fit. with this snow, the best escape that i have, the open road, has me completely shut out. it's not impossible, but it's not easy, either. it wouldn't be comfortable at all. it wouldn't be a real escape, worry about the fishtailing, the skidding. all of the thought that could go into planning and creating and dispersing would then be all prioritized into being careful.

what a way to live.

here, i was thinking december just happened to be the month that everyone was doing their thing. rahul sick, dave working, brian shopping, kerry dating, tina living, nicole schooling, carissa disappearing, and me just stranded. flip forward, two months later. still stranded for reasons, some of which are different some of which are the same. i just have a feeling i've overstayed my welcome in so many of my personal relationships with people. i'm not into computers, i'm not in florida, i'm not married, i'm not working all the time, i'm in love but so is she, i'm in new york, and i just can't seem to figure out when's the best time. what's happening here, what have i been doing wrong. where's my interesting stories about "Real" things, what have i been contributing, what keeps anyone ever coming back, when do things start to level out.

i wish it wasn't this simple;
she completed me.

now i have to find ways to complete myself.

check scalp for receding timeline.

tonight was laden... laden with scattered old memories. and it all stems from handing out copies of "The Better Half." Each wasn't necessarily meant to last that long. Just something along the lines of, "yo, here's my story, and i want you to destroy it. i hate blind love. i hate blind hatred. i want to know what you thought about this story. how it affected or didn't affect you. what you need me to explain to you, what you hate me for writing, and what you could never be without. i want you to tear this apart." but it ended up going for three rounds of two hour long encounters.

it started with hanging out with krystyn which was a complete trip. i saw her new house, met two of her roommates, and her dog, and saw her room, and her dvds. it was insane. it really wasn't what i was expecting to happen. the only reason i even ended up giving her a copy of the story was because back when i started writing it, she was one of the people who i figured would have some insight on it. so now that it's come to a refined conclusion, she deserves a final copy of it. it was also sort've intriguing to see what this huge chunk of my past has become. and, really, things have sort've changed so much that it's hardly recognizable as a past. it feels like a distant story that i might've made up back as it happened. i can't deny it, though; her breaking my heart was a huge part of who i am today. it instilled so many realizations into my mind and heart. having no one to get through a struggle like that was as necessary to me as being a fat kid for a majority of my life. it taught me virtues, and patience, and independence.

i think she'll read the story and be really surprised at where it goes. she hardly knows me anymore.

she said:
you're so different

then i went and picked up jessica peters, someone who has waxed and waned in my life, in so many different elements. we talked about humanity, and people that we've met who are completely random but have changed the way that we think about different things in what little ways they could. intentional, or unintentional, whatever it was. we talked about the situation that was born this year on january 17th, and we talked about moving, and we talked about muses. i read her some of the beat stuff i've been working on. i need more criticism. i want more opinions. it'll come with open mic type deals. i just found out that vintage lounge has one on tuesday. i'm going to sit through a couple and see what they're about.

i think she'll read the story and not feel that i captured the true essence of the psychology of a man in such a position. that, or she'll think i'm clinically depressed, but am always hiding it.

she said:
i'm starstruck.

the night ended with mr. pete galgani at a diner. we ate dinner and talked about music for a solid hour. sometimes i get a little hesitant to discuss that subject with people, but with pete, it's different. he's open minded, and seems more like he's eager to learn than to prove something. i always think that's a great quality in someone. we talked about making movies, and about the NBA, the super bowl, and NHL '06. a group of straight up punk-rock (we're talking The Clash) type kids got kicked out of the joint before they even stepped in, because they had apparently skipped on the bill the previous time they were there. i guess that's what happens if you make that decision. after looking at my pin, he was reminded of a time when we went to the downtown to see Days Away, and how disappointed i was in their performance. this was when i loved them for their pop rock stuff, and they had moved on in a more ambient direction, and decided to spring that on me in person. i think there was a moment on that night where you could literally taste disappointment coming from me. this reminded me of when codeseven dropped off of the show on the downtown... which made me predict their breakup. this made me really sad.

i think he'll read the story, and say, "i really liked it."

he said:
see... i think knowing you is definitely really cool.

the eyes, they starve.

it's been a lot of late nights.
and on these nights, i've been spending time on the internet.
it's a modern blessing and a curse.

listen.

i look around, endlessly, for something good to read online. i can't be like rahul and read digg.com. i've tried. it's all a bunch of cool facts and discoveries, and what not... but nothing i can really latch on to. there's maybe one every three days or so that'll keep me interested for a second. for music sites (ap.net, theprp, punknews) are just scanned through so quickly, it's ridiculous. the sites are informative for the most part, but they're aimed at ADD type internet types who will just look quickly for bolded names of bands they're interested in and are able to read a less than 20 word synopsis of the news about the band. not to sound conceited, but i wish there was another site out there just like wrankmusic. opinions and descriptions and personality behind the news. it's so necessary. i've just subscribed tothe scout's podcast. it used to be updated fairly often, but that we before i ever really knew anything about podcasts, etc. the last updated one was on november 30th. i'll listen tomorrow. i also did some research, and subscribed to the one over at The Sounds In My Head. that one was actually updated today. we'll see.

i read no revolution, a blog done by blackout! records' Bill Wilson which actually takes on parts of technology and music together (latest post addressed myspace, pandora, and last.fm just to give you an example) and that's actually something i was interested in. i'd like to check out a lot more blogs. I just recently checked out John Carmack's and it's outdated, and i think Shigeru Miyamoto has one, BUT i can't find it. it may be in japanese anyway.

livejournal has become a dump with absolutely nothing worth reading. i have books (atlas shrugged which i'm 200+ pages through, nothing feels good, god shaped hole, the dead emcee scrolls, and the informers), but those are static. sometimes, i just want something informative. something that someone is emoting about.

what's really to complain about right now, though.
okay, there's one thing. the fact that my now ex-girlfriend (who has now found a seat in my life as best friend on hiatus) is leading a life that i don't envy, that i don't admire, that doesn't challenge anyone not even herself, and that i'm sort've disappointed in. that's one thing. but i'm breathing. i'm living. i'm moving on in ways that i never thought i'd be able to do so quickly.

allow me to rephrase:

what's really to complain about right now, aside from that?
nothing.

next thursday, i check out saul williams up in newburgh either alone or with company. the number one inspiration in my writing and my living, and i get to see him in person again. and i really can't wait. i hope i light up like i did last time. reading parts of his newest, (dead emcee scrolls) has sort've discouraged me from writing anymore. i wonder if i could EVER be at the point this man is. just turning heads with words you write down in your little book with a pen you keep in your pocket. jesus. what i wouldn't give to have someone really dig my writing. to really want me to get out there. it's just not the crowd i'm in right now. it's not the kind've stuff they're into. so i have to sort've gauge it on my own ear, and try to be as objective as possible. not to love or hate on myself to hard.

but there's newburgh next thursday.
richmond the thursday after.
boston in april.

life all in between.

a scattering of mended minds.

dave is in lorton, virginia where hotels are expensive.
brian is at home in a married life.
tina is drinking at a bar. undoubtedly.
rahul is here. rahul helped me make this blog.
bill just got home.
carissa and i are hanging out tomorrow night, i think. i also think i let her down tonight.
nicole is staying at her parents' house because the bar below her is too loud.
kerry is living somewhere.

me, i'm drinking red stripes and hoping.

welcome to my blog.