Monthly Archives: September 2005

Another One (Or Two) Bites The Dust

28 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  melancholy

Tonight I said goodbye to a pair of my closest friends.  Kaminski and her husband are moving to Oregon this weekend.  It’s not that far, and I’m sure I’ll still see them a lot.  But it’s still bumming me out.

I’ve known Kaminski since I was 18, so she has seen a lot of phases of my life.  A lot of versions of Benjamin.  Holy Christ, I’ve known her for 8 years.  I’m so old.

Anyway, I’m running out of friends to move away.  If you’re reading this, and you live in the Bay Area, I order you to stay!  Stay… stay!  Now roll over!  Good friend.

On a completely unrelated side-note: I would like to say “thank you” to my neighbors upstairs.  Or maybe next door.  I can’t quite tell.  But every night this week, I’ve been treated to about a half-hour or so of wall/floor pounding, moaning, and slapping noises.  Someone near me is getting a lot of action, and maybe I’m a pervert, but that amounts to free porn as far as I’m concerned.  Good for you two (or more?) who are getting it on, and thank you kind neighbors for indirectly including me.

Minipops

25 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

 Current Mood:  geeky

A few weeks ago, I picked up a book in the art section of Cody’s called Minipops.  This artist has basically drawn little pixel cartoons of famous bands and movie characters.  You may have seen his work in recent Yahoo commercials.  Anyway, I was instantly obsessed with it.  This is so far up my alley for reasons I won’t bore you with, but yeah… I wish I’d thought of it.  I used to draw little things like this all the time.  If only I’d stuck with it, huh?

You should go check out this guy’s  website at http://www.flipflopflyin.com/minipops.  Last I checked, you can download all the Minipops that are in his book, plus some new ones.  Look for your favorite band, and steal it like me!  How big a nerd am I?

P.S.  That was rhetorical.

Sweet Silence

21 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  sore

When I got back to my hotel tonight, my new pet cricket was chirping away as you might expect.  But something was different… he had moved.  His song was coming from a different corner of the room.  Where I could see him.

I don’t know if you know this, but crickets are pretty fast.  I tore the room apart to catch him, but I eventually did get him in a cup.  And I took him down the elevator andput him in the brush outside.  You might think I did all this to get rid of his chirping.  The truth is, I felt guilty that he was going to starve in here.  That he was missing his friends.  I actually felt sympathy for the fear that this cricket might be experiencing at being alone in here.  Anyways, he’s free now.

Last night I had the strangest dream.  I dreamt that I had crushed my favorite guitar by accident, and that all my credit cards were cracked into pieces.  That’s all I can remember, really.  I guess that’s not very interesting.  Nevermind.  Isn’t it funny how talking about a dream is only interesting when it’s your dream?

If anyone’s interested, the NyQuil knocked me out as planned.  Sure, I woke up in an opium den in Mesa, wearing nothing but overalls and a scuba mask.  But I felt significantly better, if not perfect.  Guess the NyQuil worked.

The Cricket In Times Square

20 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  sick

Or my hotel room.

I can accept bugs showing up here and there in my hotel rooms, especially in a place like Arizona.  But the monstrous cricket I saw in the bathroom Sunday night has taken up residence in a far corner of my room and has spent the last two nights chirping non-stop.  And loud, too.  Incessant.  Piercing.  Makes me want to kill people.

I’m spending this, my last week in Phoenix, in Phoenix, as luck would have it.  The sore throat I felt creeping in this weekend has now manifested into me feeling like complete ass for two days.  I’ve been a croupy, squinting zombie at work, which I have been faithfully showing up to, against my better judgement.  Throat drying.  Head aching.  Cricket chirping.

I saw some neat thunderstorms on the drive home from dinner tonight.  You can see really far in the desert!  I know you don’t care, but I’m writing this more so that in the future, when I read back over my old blogs, I remember it.  Note to self, and all that.  You know what I mean.

An ugly couple in the restaurant tonight gave me a dirty look.  I don’t know why.  I don’t care.  To be honest, I’m not the least bit interested in what goes on in ugly peoples’ lives.  Does that make me shallow?  I think it’s only natural.

Well, I remembered how NyQuil knocked me the hell out (and was my miracle cure) the last time I was sick in Phoenix (see my June 8th entry).  I generally don’t have much faith in medicine, but NyQuil really surprised me last time, and I’m hoping to re-live that sweet magic just one more time.  Bottoms up…

“The rebirth of slick like my gangsta stroll,
The lyrics, just like loot, come in stacks and rolls.”

Everything Is A Self-Portrait

12 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  full

If you need a history lesson, do yourself a favor, and read this.

Did you hear that Oracle bought Siebel today?  Not like we didn’t see this coming, but man.  I’m so glad to be out of that industry.  It’s like watching the Titanic sink whilst I float away on a life raft.

I had what I think are a couple of big realizations about myself this weekend.  I don’t want to go into it, but it surprises me that I never saw these things before.  It seems so obvious now.  It’s in everything I say, everything I do.  Everything I feel.  There’s no hiding who you are.  The inner you is so very evident in the you that you choose to show the world.  The you that you try to be.  Oscar Wilde once said, “A mask tells us more than a face.”  I think that’s my new favorite quote.

Well, unlike last week, this time I brought a guitar.  So I’m gonna go do that now.  Bye bye now!

“… everything you do is a self-portrait.  It might look like Saint George and the Dragon…, but the angle you use, the lighting, the composition, the technique, they’re all you.  Even the reason why you chose this scene, it’s you.  You are every color and brushstroke… Your handwriting.  The way you walk.  Which china pattern you choose.  It’s all giving you away.  Everything you do shows your hand.  Everything is a self-portrait.”

That’s The Story Of My Life

9 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  drained

If you know me, then you know how much I like to dwell on the past and brood over everything that has ever changed in my life.  It’s kinda my thing.

People change and you don’t mean as much to them as you used to.  They move in and out of your life and sooner or later, they disappear forever.  And because you absolutely cannot stop this from happening, I’m learning that the real value is the mark you leave on their lives.  The way you change them.  The thing you give to them that they keep long after everything has fallen apart and you’re gone.

When that person, in that place, at that time is all a memory, what are you left with?  Maybe you changed my life 15 years ago.  Maybe you changed my life yesterday.  Maybe you change it every day.  To all my friends, family, and loved ones… here, gone, or moved on… this is what I am left with:

You were my best friend.
You were the only one who really knew me.
You ruined my life.
You took me to school every morning for years.
You took me camping the only time I ever went.
You took me to Europe.
You stole my bike.
You were the prettiest girl I ever kissed.
You wanted my happiness more than you wanted your own.
You taught me that no matter how bad the past was, it is absolutely never too late.
You were the one that got away.
You made me choose.
You were the reason I never turned to drugs.
You saw me at my very worst, maybe ever.
You never knew how much I really liked you (because I never even told you, oh and I meant to).
You never made an attempt to contact me again.
You were the best thing that never happened to me.
You were the brother I never had.
You reminded me who I really was every time I saw you.
You showed me that ugly people can be beautiful.
You showed me that beautiful people are sometimes very ugly.
You left in the middle of the night.
You broke my heart, and I broke yours.
You taught me how to pretend it doesn’t hurt.
You always knew exactly what to say.
You almost got me drunk.  Almost.
You taught me that a gun is never the answer.
You were my hero.
You were the one I always hoped would call and never did.
You taught me how to play guitar.
You taught me how to kiss.
You never really loved me.
You turned your back on me.
You made me realize I was going crazy.
You were probably the reason I was going crazy.
You never told me your name.
You tried to stab me.
You included me for no good reason.
You proved every one of my assumptions wrong.
You never ceased to confuse me.
You made me feel so old.
You made me feel young again.
You were never that far away.
You killed a friendship.
You killed a relationship.
You made my year.
You sold me out.
You died too young.
You died when I was too young.
You made me wish I could just let it go.
You made me so ashamed that I couldn’t.
You never gave up on me.
You never gave up on me.
You never gave up on me.

Last Night In Penix

8 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  anxious

Tonight I saw the first clouds I’ve ever seen in Arizona.  All pink and purple.  Just like the post cards.  Something like a Maxfield Parrish painting.  It would have been beautiful if we all weren’t preheated to 350-degrees out here.

Why, oh why didn’t I bring a guitar?  Rushing out the door this weekend, I was so sure I wouldn’t have time to be bored this week.  So sure I wouldn’t need it.  So wrong, I was.  Wow, so much like Yoda, I suddenly have become.

Today at lunch, I overheard this mountain of a woman with a southern accent ask her friend, “What’s a Boca burger?  Is that like a veggie burger?”  Her friend explained.  Then she says something like, “Oh, I don’t want that.  I need the real thing.  None of that processed stuff.”  Oh yes, lady.  You’re so pure and natural.  Nothing but the freshest dead animal for you, right?  God forbid you put anything unnatural into the cow-shaped temple that is your body.  Other than the double bacon cheeseburger with fries you just ordered, that is.  “I think all that veggie stuff is silly.”  Yeah, well I think you’re a murderer.  And so does God.

Urge to soapbox… too… strong…

I heard the Reverend is putting out a Christmas album this year.  October, methinks.  Can’t wait.

And on a completely different subject, as much as I hate lotion, I love its polar opposite: talcum powder.  Love the texture.  Love the smell.  Heaven.

I fly home tomorrow night, bitches.  Couldn’t you just pee?

Got A Match?

6 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  exhausted

Arizona.

The heat’s the same.  The restaurants are the same.  My rental car even smells the same.  But I’m through with this place.  Everything seems wrong.  The air feels poisoned.  I’m haunted by somebody else’s bad memories.  I want to hate everyone I see here.  I want to raze it all.  Even saying the state’s name outloud makes me wince.  Did I mention I think I’m going crazy?

I hate leaving California, but it always makes me feel so important.  Every time someone outside of the Bay Area gives me even a hint of attitude, I have to laugh.  Like I give a shit what you monkeys are doing scurrying around out here in the middle of the desert.

It makes me sick the way television news programs are exploiting the hell out of the situation in the Southeast.  I understand that everyone wants to hear about it, myself included.  But the way they sensationalize it into this circus… makes me want to slap every one of them across the face.  You heartless fucking animals.

Reading back on what I’ve just written, I am evidently full of piss and vinegar.  Perhaps it’s just time to go to bed.

I wish I had a guitar with me.
I wish I had my girl on the phone.
I wish I had a plane ticket for tomorrow morning.

“What you don’t understand, you can make mean anything.”

Things I Learned This Weekend

6 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  tired

  1. Taking care of a dog is a big hassle.  No matter how cute they are, they are ultimately dirty and they poop a lot.  My cat-personhood is reaffirmed.
     
  2. If I were gay, I’d be a “bear.”  The more I learn about this group, the more I think I’d have a place there.  You mean I can be chubby, hairy, and wear gaudy belt buckles?  And these are prized traits?  Where do I sign up?
     
  3. I am the next Johnny Marr.  Band practices are going so well, and I can’t wait to rock all of your socks.  Our first gig is on the horizon.  Details to follow.
     
  4. I am crazy… or else I am surrounded by people who are making me crazy… or else these people only have me convinced that I’m crazy.
     
  5. Girls never believe you can fight unless they see it for themselves.  And while they will always tell you they never want to see it… of course they do.
     
  6. My long-standing conflict with lotion continues.  I am right to dislike lotion.  It ruins everything.
     
  7. Empathy is priceless.  A close friend saved my life this weekend if for no other reason than that she is as crazy as I am.
     
  8. Alice (in Wonderland) is far and away the sexiest Disney character of all time.  No contest.

So it’s an unexpectedly hot-assed night in Phoenix, and it’s time to go to bed and start my work week.  But I wanted to share one last thing with you all.  The “hitman” compliment I mentioned a while back has been temporarily supplanted with a new best compliment ever.  I’m walking through Oakland airport tonight wearing a Meat Is Murder shirt.  I walk by this couple and I overhear this:

Girl: “Oh, I like his shirt.”
Guy: “Yeah, and he looks like Morrissey.”

That’s fucking right I do, bitches.  That’s right I do.  OK, g’night y’all.

“Just for the record, she still loves you.  She wouldn’t bother to torture you if she didn’t.  You fucker.  Can you feel this?”

From A Bunker Three Miles Below The Surface…

3 September 2005

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  contemplative

… a.k.a. alone in my apartment.

A year ago today, I was packing for Ireland and anxiously awaiting a Morrissey concert that, as it turns out, would never take place.

Phoenix is on the horizon.  I’ll be there for the next three weeks.  Temperatures are expected to be in the chilly 90s.  While being away for three weeks doesn’t exactly appeal to me at the moment, it’s probably good for me.  One of the days I fly will be September 11th though.  Should I be worried?

It occurs to me that I am fortunate to have so many worthwhile people in my life.  I know a lot of amazing people.  And I know that everyone says that about the people they know, but I’ve met their friends, and believe me, they’re wrong.  My friends are amazing.  Their friends are trash.

But many of you are far from me to some extent or other.  I don’t have the kind of circle that I can call on a Saturday afternoon and make instant plans with.  I have to make appointments to see some of you.  I have to get on a plane to see some of you.  Some of you I saw only hours ago.  Some of you I haven’t seen in weeks.  And a few of you I’ve never even met.

For what it’s worth, I miss you.

“You’ll never return into my arms.
You’ll never return into my arms.
You will never return into my arms,
‘Cause you’ve gone-gone.”

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