I have to figure everything out. Holy shit, are things fucked right now.

Everything's been said before
There's nothing left to say anymore
When it's all the same
You can ask for it by name

Babble, Babble, Bitch, Bitch
Rebel, Rebel, Party, Party
Sex, sex, sex, don't forget the violence
Blah, blah, blah
Got your lovey-dovey sad and lonely
Stick your stupid slogan in
Everybody sing along
Babble, Babble, Bitch, Bitch
Rebel, Rebel, Party, Party
Sex, sex, sex, don't forget the violence
Blah, blah, blah
Got your lovey-dovey sad and lonely
Stick your stupid slogan in
Everybody sing along

Are you motherfuckers ready for the new shit?
Stand up and admit it, tomorrow's never coming
This is the new shit
Stand up and admit it
Do we need it? NO!
Do we want it? YEAH!
This is the new shit
Stand up and admit it

Now it's you-know-who
I've got the you-know-what
I stick it in the you-know-where
You know why, you don't care
Now it's you-know-who
I've got the you-know-what
I stick it in the you-know-where
You know why, you don't care
Now it's you-know-who
I've got the you-know-what
I stick it in the you-know-where
You know why, you don't care
Now it's you-know-who
I've got the you-know-what
I stick it in the you-know-where
You know why, you don't care

Babble, Babble, Bitch, Bitch
Rebel, Rebel, Party, Party
Sex, sex, sex, don't forget the violence
Blah, blah, blah
Got your lovey-dovey sad and lonely
Stick your stupid slogan in
Everybody sing along

Are you motherfuckers ready for the new shit?
Stand up and admit it, tomorrow's never coming
This is the new shit
Stand up and admit it
Do we need it? NO!
Do we want it? YEAH!
This is the new shit
Stand up and admit it

Let us entertain you
Let us entertain you
Let us entertain you
Let us entertain you
Let us entertain you

Everything.

Is.

Fucking.

Up.




So fuck it all.

What is it about music? How can a song or an album change a persons life? What is that hidden message that only the beat of a drum, guitar and vocals can hide? What does it say? Why can't I hear it--understand it--yet I know it is there, effecting my being? Music and melody can redirect my mind, body and soul. If I hear the perfect song, I will enter the perfect mood. I can be happy, oblivious, all-knowing, alone, out front, sad, empathetic, numb, and content all at once, all while hearing the perfect song. It ends when the song ends. It doesn't happen when someone else is with me, because I wonder, do they feel it to? Can they understand the change in me? Is it so solitary?

Why does the perfect song change so often? Why can one song be it for a while--weeks, months if I'm lucky--then it loses the charm? How come I have to wait so long between discoveries? The time between, I spend in a world where music is sans life. I forget about the perfect song, that it had at one point existed. Then, suddenly, I find a new one, and I remember the old ones, a memory dusted off and put on display. Until, of course, the new fades, and gets packed in the same soggy, moldy box the old one came out of.

I just--two days ago--discovered the new Death Cab for Cutie album, Plans. I haven't felt this good about music since finding out about Hooverphonic almost six years ago. What the hell have I been doing during the time between?

Display, though: Battersea from Hooverphonic is one of the best songs I've ever heard. It changed my life, once upon a time.

Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis!
soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,
conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

-Catullus

This guy knew his stuff.

Quaeris quot mihi basiationes
tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.
Quam magnus numerus Libyssae harenae
laserpiciferis iacet Cyrenis,
...
aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,
furtivos hominum vident amores,
tam te basia multa basiare
vesano satis et super Catullo est.

--Catullus


I'll put in a real profile picture once I actually have one to use. Until that day, you'll just have to look in my Pics folder, damnit.

I saw God the other day...
by the river on a rainy afternoon.
He helped a kitten that was left all alone.
It's a God that only I can see-
a black-winged angel that came down from the Heavens, just for me.


Getting new ink done on Monday. Weeeeeeeeee.

When the sun rises, it burns a hole through my curtains. The houses behind me stand as a link, like a giant picket fence. The collectively fail to block the sun from rising. When it hits noon, and all the shadows crawl under my house like serpents escaping the heat, I sleep. In the evening the sun is swallowed by the rut of the interstate that graces my front yard. Across the concrete valley--populated with shimmering screams of steel--lies more tombstones of houses. They are the places that were, but are no more. The setting sun, defiant to the very end, burns through the shattered glass windows. The reds and yellows cross the gulf between space and silver; only to die in my eyes, captured and focused by my retinas like smoke in a glass.

Someday the time will come when the sun will not rise, because I have stolen all of its might. A black hole will rise in its place, and I will vanquish it with the power of my anguish. Someday.


I finally, FINALLY got my own copies of FLCL on DVD. Six episodes, three volumes, three discs, $86.00. The only anime I've ever totally been insane over. All others are so passe. I've also FINALLY started reading LOTR. My flatmate says he can consider no one well-read until they have read LOTR. I consider no one well-read until they've finished Atlas Shrugged. We might be at an impasse. Something something, something masse.

My life sucks. Feel pity for me. Offer me consolation. Care about my feelings and my opinions. Touch me in places I've never been touched before. Know that when the day comes, I won't remember your name. I will remember what you made me think and feel, but I won't remember what you look like. I'll replace your face with a more aesthetically pleasing image. Your voice will never be like your voice. It will be what I find soothing. I don't care about your hair or your clothes. Frankly, I think you look like shit. But Goddamn, you better like my clothes. Not that I really give a fuck, but you better say you do. Why? Because you don't want to hurt my feelings. I said you don't want to hurt my feelings. You taste in music and films and literature only makes you acceptable to be around now, but in the not to distant future I won't remember who you cherished most in that one novel or what you thought about that girl in that movie. You'll like what I like, because you won't be here, except in my mind. At night, when the lights go out, it's just you and me.

I don't like NiN's new album. I think it is way overrated. Now, I've never been a huge fan in the first place, but I could at least enjoy the stuff from a previous era. This new stuff is horrible. Same with the new Weezer disc. Everything I've heard is just so... boring. You can listen to the radio and all the music just blurs into one single smooth melody of background noise. When I was at the Warped Tour a few days ago, Offspring came out for the final show. It's funny how all the lil boys and girls could only sing the newer songs. Of course, they only went as far back as Smash, but what can you expect. Ask, and none of the audience could have told you what Ignition sounded like. Doesn't that fucking make me cool?

Since I'm on a rant and spieling my opinion like someone actually gives a fuck-and you better give a fuck-whats with these girlies undies that look like boys tighty-whiteys? When it comes down to it, I don't want to see her in something that I might wear under my fucking work pants, all covered in machine oil and metal. I want something sexy or innocent or smooth or nothing at all. But that isn't up to me, and besides, I can remember her in something else when they are all long gone.

This is my first journal entry. I tried to take some pictures of myself, but I'm too fucking stupid to know how to look good. Can you tell that I'm angry?