Work is getting busier, and when it rains it pours; so I don't have anything of import to stick up here.
Instead, here's a generic blog standard:

What's on my ipod?
A little something for anyone who hates when people don't list bands in their profile.

Cake
Misfits
Otis Redding
Morphine
Willie Nelson
Prince
Talking Heads

Yes, these are all good things.
I hope the paycheck's big enough this week, the new Dinosaur Jr. and Pigface records are out I think, and a new Wilco album soon. My ears need new stimulation.
I miss disposable income, I miss it bad.

It's hot and muggy, and I am sans AC until I move in August. I can't sleep, and I feel gross. All I can really do is take shots of vodka and sassafras liquor until I'm too worn out to fall asleep.

I'm drawing pictures of the devil's coffee cup. That seems important.

I tired of the trauma blog. Here's a list of things I've accomplished in the last week.

-Worked on the painstakingly slow Dinosaur Tea Party painting.
-Reread The Big Sleep, halfway. Stopped at the same place I did four months ago.
-Played every single U.S. released SNES game, at least long enough to sort them into "good" and "shit" categories.

Having contemplated these acheivements, I realized I don't get anything more done in my spare time than I do when I'm busy. In fact, I may actually get less done.

Maybe I have a threshold for being productive.

Maybe I'm just lazy.

I won't jinx anything just yet, but today was pleasant. I've had a solid week of some anxiety and panic attacks on top of a serious bout of depression and what was uncomfortably (to say the least) close to a psychotic break. Such fun times that aside from work (an exercise in people avoidance) I stayed in my apartment the whole time, self-quarentined, aside from a two trips for cigarettes.

But right now I feel coherent, I seem able to type more than dozen words clearly, and the people outside being too loud for a Wednesday at midnight are not in danger of being pelted with kitchen utensils.
I had a very long, very good conversation with the SO, which was a huge help. I had dinner with my parents. I actually managed to mail bills properly, with the checks enclosed. At no point today did I feel a compulsion to curl into a ball on the couch, or the bed, or under the desk, or hurt myself with sharp objects, or drink until I passed out for a lack of other options.

I functioned like a normal fucking human being, and it feels like a blessing.

Mental illness: NOT FOR PUSSIES.

Two more months. Two more months. Two more months.

To follow up the last post....I didn't get the invite to the art fair. I'm a little disappointed (mostly about the wasted application fee), I don't have the means or the money to do any big shows outside of this area. At this juncture, I haven't given myself a lot of choice I'm pretty much homeless if I can't find a way to make more money in the next year or so, unless I quit school, which is where most of my money comes from in the first place. Prostitution is not an option.
I figure I'm at the point where I can figure out how to make my own opportunities. I've got the motivation (i.e. I'm desperate enough) to do it, and if I fail miserably....hell with the consequences.


I'm just a guy with a shovel who's either digging the foundation for a pyramid with lasers and a giant godzilla on top, or his own ridiculous grave.
I don't know which it is, and all I can do is say "fuck it" and keep digging.

I don't know what's more agonizing, waiting around to find out if you've been accepted for something (doesn't matter what, but in my case it would be a very lucrative booth in an art fair), or that in order to continue doing what you really want to do you have to play by someone else's rules.

I'd gotten to the point where I could actually make some money painting, but I'm not in a position to find a better market. Almost anywhere would be better than this backassward town, I think most places hard work might actually be an asset.

Feels like I'm choking on my own motivation.

Look at this kid and his awesome dance!

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=52416482

When I said "awesome" what I really meant was "way drunk". White kids.
I dance like James Brown when I'm drunk.

The guy you can't see behind the bass player, that's me. I know it's fantastic quality, this was someone's phone, I think; plus it's kind of a dull song. I'll say this though, we fucking packed the place AND when we finished the second set they wanted an encore.
In a bar.
Who plays an encore in a bar? So Ben and Phil winged it and played Butterfly. I call it a good night.

Eat a dick! Drunk blogs get edited the next day, massive hangover or not.

I thought I'd update after a year and a half, just in case anyone ever reads this. The band mentioned in the old post is on "indefinite hiatus", so I'm playing in a Weezer cover band. I'm still in school as long as the government pays me to go, and I work in texts at the university bookstore, mostly out of boredom.
I suppose that's about it.