Out Of Time...
So I've spread myself too thin again. I need to edit video, play music with the band, run sound and lights for other bands, take care of the cats... I need a 30 hour day in order to get everything done!
And yet, all I want to do is spend more time with you.
Unfortunately, it's not in the cards this weekend. You're at the convention and I'll be locked in this theatre with a Bruce Springsteen tribute band and a whole slew of acrobats from China. I'm looking forward to the crazy acrobats while dreading the faux Bruce. He's a nice enough guy, I'm just not into the REAL Bruce's music... so why would I dig an impostor? I'd be having a lot more fun if you were here with me, cracking jokes and poking fun. Oh well, you know what they say about absence...
So I've spread myself too thin again. I need to edit video, play music with the band, run sound and lights for other bands, take care of the cats... I need a 30 hour day in order to get everything done!
And yet, all I want to do is spend more time with you.
Unfortunately, it's not in the cards this weekend. You're at the convention and I'll be locked in this theatre with a Bruce Springsteen tribute band and a whole slew of acrobats from China. I'm looking forward to the crazy acrobats while dreading the faux Bruce. He's a nice enough guy, I'm just not into the REAL Bruce's music... so why would I dig an impostor? I'd be having a lot more fun if you were here with me, cracking jokes and poking fun. Oh well, you know what they say about absence...
Awake, Thanks To The Dead...
I'm furious. I was dead asleep when my doorbell rang. That pisses me off to no end. Lucky for me I have a nice high operating level of 'not giving a fuck' so I didn't answer the door. The unlucky thing? I have roommates.
"Rand, there's a guy at the door who says you need to move your van."
Motherfucker.
I live next to a funeral home. The funeral home thinks that the entire block is a parking lot for mourning assholes who aren't in any mindset to find an adequate place to leave a vehicle. Maybe its the teary eyes... Apparently my van, although parked legally, was too close to the garage where they deliver the dead people and coffins and such.
Normally I'd be happy to move it but here's why I'm pissed: they caused the issue!
All the mourning parkers have surrounded the garage with illegally parked cars. If any one of them would move to a legit spot there would be NO ISSUE. The dead people and coffins could be delivered easily and with haste. Why the fuck are they waking my ass up to move from a legit spot? They're already awake! They have access to the cars! They are parked illegally!
Fucking dead people piss me off. Those fuckers that hang out with dead people are even worse...
Get a life!
I'm furious. I was dead asleep when my doorbell rang. That pisses me off to no end. Lucky for me I have a nice high operating level of 'not giving a fuck' so I didn't answer the door. The unlucky thing? I have roommates.
"Rand, there's a guy at the door who says you need to move your van."
Motherfucker.
I live next to a funeral home. The funeral home thinks that the entire block is a parking lot for mourning assholes who aren't in any mindset to find an adequate place to leave a vehicle. Maybe its the teary eyes... Apparently my van, although parked legally, was too close to the garage where they deliver the dead people and coffins and such.
Normally I'd be happy to move it but here's why I'm pissed: they caused the issue!
All the mourning parkers have surrounded the garage with illegally parked cars. If any one of them would move to a legit spot there would be NO ISSUE. The dead people and coffins could be delivered easily and with haste. Why the fuck are they waking my ass up to move from a legit spot? They're already awake! They have access to the cars! They are parked illegally!
Fucking dead people piss me off. Those fuckers that hang out with dead people are even worse...
Get a life!
Procrastination...
I really don't feel like editing video today.
I know, I know.. I went to an expensive college to learn this skill and I should use it to earn money. I wish I was able to force myself to find the idea of making a lot of money appealing.... But I can't.
I hate money!
I should be thinking about the kids I'll be helping with these videos once they are finished. The Autistic kids that'll have these videos in-pocket at all times (assuming hey have iPods and subscribe to the service) should be helped by the 'Calming Techniques' video , or the 'Crossing A Busy Street' how-to video...
Who am I kidding. Autistic kids are NOT going to have the where-with-all to pull out an iPod and watch the appropriate video in a time of distress. They'll be too busy... distressing.
Oh well, it's not my idea. I just work here.
It's a good thing I only take these video gigs when I have time off from my kick-ass job at live music venues. I'd fucking kill myself for sure...
I really don't feel like editing video today.
I know, I know.. I went to an expensive college to learn this skill and I should use it to earn money. I wish I was able to force myself to find the idea of making a lot of money appealing.... But I can't.
I hate money!
I should be thinking about the kids I'll be helping with these videos once they are finished. The Autistic kids that'll have these videos in-pocket at all times (assuming hey have iPods and subscribe to the service) should be helped by the 'Calming Techniques' video , or the 'Crossing A Busy Street' how-to video...
Who am I kidding. Autistic kids are NOT going to have the where-with-all to pull out an iPod and watch the appropriate video in a time of distress. They'll be too busy... distressing.
Oh well, it's not my idea. I just work here.
It's a good thing I only take these video gigs when I have time off from my kick-ass job at live music venues. I'd fucking kill myself for sure...
Sleeping...
We finally got a chance to sleep. Really sleep... without having to wake to a cacophony of digital alarms and brave the perils of commuter traffic the next morning. This is a new thing for you and me, considering we've spent most of our nights together in the company of others or alone in hidden places for ephemeral embraces...
But not last night.
We slept like babies, wrapped in your spare comforter and surrounded by warm kitties looking for the residual heat of 98.6 degrees multiplied by two (assuming your fever is gone). You hardly moved a muscle once your eyes closed and you nary made a sound. I'm sure I woke you several times while trying to breathe through my stuffy nose but you continue to say it doesn't bother you...
Adorable.
Lucky for me this isn't just a fleeting memory I'm trying to preserve before it fades away. You're still laying next to me, sleeping like a baby under a comforter that's securely pinned to your body under the weight of sleeping kitties. I think it may be the cutest thing I've seen in a long, long time.
I'm making you french toast for breakfast... You deserve it!
We finally got a chance to sleep. Really sleep... without having to wake to a cacophony of digital alarms and brave the perils of commuter traffic the next morning. This is a new thing for you and me, considering we've spent most of our nights together in the company of others or alone in hidden places for ephemeral embraces...
But not last night.
We slept like babies, wrapped in your spare comforter and surrounded by warm kitties looking for the residual heat of 98.6 degrees multiplied by two (assuming your fever is gone). You hardly moved a muscle once your eyes closed and you nary made a sound. I'm sure I woke you several times while trying to breathe through my stuffy nose but you continue to say it doesn't bother you...
Adorable.
Lucky for me this isn't just a fleeting memory I'm trying to preserve before it fades away. You're still laying next to me, sleeping like a baby under a comforter that's securely pinned to your body under the weight of sleeping kitties. I think it may be the cutest thing I've seen in a long, long time.
I'm making you french toast for breakfast... You deserve it!
Cleaning House...
I don't often clean my room. I'm not really doing it now. I'm just 'straightening up'.
But as I move notebooks and paystubs around I stumble across little bits of the past. I remember moving these little bits around before... for decades.
polaroids of lame product shots from my QVC days... Ukulele strings... keys to old apartments, motorcycles and laundry rooms... guitar strings...
a portable minidisc player that has seen little to no use... bass strings... my backup herb grinder...
One of the notebooks I've owned since high school needs a new storage spot. As I pick it up and thumb through the memories I stumble across a message I've never seen before.
"I'm Samantha Bender and I'm hanging out with Rand and wearing new socks! Stop looking at me, Swan!"
It looks like a girl from my past has written a little clandestine note for me in notebook she knew I'd never throw away. In pink pen, no less! Complete with whimsical doodles of cheerful nonsense.
How cute.
Samantha wasn't ever that close to me, we only really knew each other for a summer. It didn't end badly, it just of became less of a priority for each of us to until we lost touch. I'd love to call her and laugh about the little note I found.
Too bad she died of a heroin overdose.
People can really change when the fall out of your life. Sam didn't drink, smoke or snort a damn thing when I knew her. She did, however, make plenty of bad decisions. I guess hanging in crack house in Camden was a pretty bad decision.
Oh well.
Thanks for writing about your socks in my book, Sam!
I don't often clean my room. I'm not really doing it now. I'm just 'straightening up'.
But as I move notebooks and paystubs around I stumble across little bits of the past. I remember moving these little bits around before... for decades.
polaroids of lame product shots from my QVC days... Ukulele strings... keys to old apartments, motorcycles and laundry rooms... guitar strings...
a portable minidisc player that has seen little to no use... bass strings... my backup herb grinder...
One of the notebooks I've owned since high school needs a new storage spot. As I pick it up and thumb through the memories I stumble across a message I've never seen before.
"I'm Samantha Bender and I'm hanging out with Rand and wearing new socks! Stop looking at me, Swan!"
It looks like a girl from my past has written a little clandestine note for me in notebook she knew I'd never throw away. In pink pen, no less! Complete with whimsical doodles of cheerful nonsense.
How cute.
Samantha wasn't ever that close to me, we only really knew each other for a summer. It didn't end badly, it just of became less of a priority for each of us to until we lost touch. I'd love to call her and laugh about the little note I found.
Too bad she died of a heroin overdose.
People can really change when the fall out of your life. Sam didn't drink, smoke or snort a damn thing when I knew her. She did, however, make plenty of bad decisions. I guess hanging in crack house in Camden was a pretty bad decision.
Oh well.
Thanks for writing about your socks in my book, Sam!
The Newness of Getting Old...
I've recently reached the somewhat mediocre milestone of surviving for 30 years on this planet. Don't worry, I won't be detailing how this is a lonely, depressing point in my life or listing my many problems with the world and those that walk around it blindly looking for... more. I won't be ranting about how confusing girls are or how I just can't come to grips with my childhood and how it made me into the wretched person I am today.
I won't be writing those things because they aren't true.
I'm happy. Remarkably so, actually.
As my last few weeks in the skin of a 29 year-old man wasted away I began to prepare myself for mourning. I assumed that I would see the loss of my 20's as an end to hope, optimism, creativity and imagination... an end to all that meant most to me. To this day I have no idea why I assumed any of those things.
I have nothing to mourn at all.
I've carved myself into a nice little craggy nook in the great 'Wall of Sound' that is the Live Music Industry. I get paid to work with the "Rock Stars" and eat catered food while listening to legendary stories. I'm not tied down to any contracts or agreements, allowing me to take months off for vacation whenever I feel the need to do so. I have very few obligations or responsibilities but somehow manage to reap many wonderful rewards. I play music as often as I can, on as many different instruments as possible with incredibly talented musicians alongside me.
I'm as creative, hopeful, optimistic and imaginative as I've ever been.
I blame hormones.
The weeks after I turned 30 were strange and almost comic book-like. I felt more alive, coherent and self-aware. I stood up straighter, taller and with more purpose. My confidence level soared through the roof and my ability to handle difficult situations with a cool head seemed to become near superhuman. Girls around me began to notice...
I was bitten by the radioactive spider of Adulthood. And the venom hurts so good.
So don't worry. I won't be boring you to death with brooding blogs filled with dark thoughts. Sorry to disappoint.
Hello, My Name Is Rand.
I'm all grown up.
I've recently reached the somewhat mediocre milestone of surviving for 30 years on this planet. Don't worry, I won't be detailing how this is a lonely, depressing point in my life or listing my many problems with the world and those that walk around it blindly looking for... more. I won't be ranting about how confusing girls are or how I just can't come to grips with my childhood and how it made me into the wretched person I am today.
I won't be writing those things because they aren't true.
I'm happy. Remarkably so, actually.
As my last few weeks in the skin of a 29 year-old man wasted away I began to prepare myself for mourning. I assumed that I would see the loss of my 20's as an end to hope, optimism, creativity and imagination... an end to all that meant most to me. To this day I have no idea why I assumed any of those things.
I have nothing to mourn at all.
I've carved myself into a nice little craggy nook in the great 'Wall of Sound' that is the Live Music Industry. I get paid to work with the "Rock Stars" and eat catered food while listening to legendary stories. I'm not tied down to any contracts or agreements, allowing me to take months off for vacation whenever I feel the need to do so. I have very few obligations or responsibilities but somehow manage to reap many wonderful rewards. I play music as often as I can, on as many different instruments as possible with incredibly talented musicians alongside me.
I'm as creative, hopeful, optimistic and imaginative as I've ever been.
I blame hormones.
The weeks after I turned 30 were strange and almost comic book-like. I felt more alive, coherent and self-aware. I stood up straighter, taller and with more purpose. My confidence level soared through the roof and my ability to handle difficult situations with a cool head seemed to become near superhuman. Girls around me began to notice...
I was bitten by the radioactive spider of Adulthood. And the venom hurts so good.
So don't worry. I won't be boring you to death with brooding blogs filled with dark thoughts. Sorry to disappoint.
Hello, My Name Is Rand.
I'm all grown up.
