Friday, December 30, 2005
12-30-2005
I used to think I was observant. I realized now…I’m not. Yesterday I didn’t even make the correlating to my Gorge Carlin calendar and the events of the day. I came into work on Thursday Dec. 29th and read Gorge’s words: “Life is a near-death experience.” I felt that was kind of morbid death quote to have for the holiday season, but I agree with its content. Lo and behold a woman died in my company. I didn’t make the connection between her sudden death (due to a blood clot) and what the calendar said until today…so ok maybe I’m observant….just very very slow. Maybe I should get this Gorge Carlin calendar for next year. Then I can see if it predicts other things happening in my life. It just might be my version of a very exclusive I-Ching. God I’m full of a lot of stupid ideas.
The Lunch Crunch
Today was my last day of work for this 2005 year! My coworkers, along with my sister and surprisingly my boss took me to lunch. It was a swell time. My co-workers and I were hoping to beat the Bennigan’s waiters at their crunch game. During the lunch time Bennigans does this crunch thing were if the food takes longer than 15 minutes we get the meal free. One of the first things I said to the waitress when I sat down was…”Today’s my birthday so you better come out and embarrass everyone here” (as I pointed to my surrounding co-workers.) The waitress said, “We will be embarrassing you.” After our delightful meal full of gossip about other’s drinking habits, who’s on the bitchy list, and associates that decide to walk out during their shift we managed to finish our meals. I splurged on a gout infested tasty b-day treat (my b-day is really Jan. 1)…ah oriental chicken salad…yummy!!! I think I managed to offend one of my co-workers. I can’t go a day without at least one awkward moment. Sophia was getting all starry eyed talking about her husband and her two sons which of whom she loves beyond comprehension. Her sons are these two math whizzes. One is just entering college and the other is getting his doctorate. We were talking about how smart they were but she injected the comment about how they lack common sense. I swore right after she said the common sense part she said, “And motivation.” I thought that was funny because in psychology my teacher seemed really interested in the genius topic. She made hints that she was a genius because she was in this club called MENSMA??? Anyway she really drilled us on this concept that in order for a person to be successful they can’t just be smart (or genius) alone, they must be motivated as well. My teacher repeatedly commented on how most geniuses lack motivation because things come easily to them. I told that to Sophia and damn if I don’t think she took it the wrong way. She said, “NO! MY sons are motivated!” I just meant to say that I think it’s amazing her sons are geniuses…that’s all. So it’s cyberspace apology time….Sorry Sophia Sorry. So after the embarrassment I felt during the meal conversation a stream of waitresses came out clapping and they told me I needed to stand up for my birthday song. I did better than that as I catapulted to my chair and reached new heights. My co-workers were laughing along with the wait staff. I hope I embarrassed them. Then the in the song the waitresses came to this syncopated beat part where I jumped from the chair to the floor and raised my knees and stomped my feet in a jerky motion in sync with the beat…a roll of laughter came form everyone once I did that…..like I said…it was a swell time, and now for more news. I’ve been on conquistador of chaos mode for the last two weeks since schools been out. I haven’t been following my laid out schedule. I’ve been side tracked with this compulsive behavior thing called called doing nothing. I find myself taking naps. I find myself playing on the internet. I find myself goggling over the I-Tunes store. I find myself just sitting looking into space. I find myself relaxing and reading just for fun. All of this two week vacation is making me feel like a worthless slacker. I really need to clean my damn house and get organized for my birthday party. I’m having a bash…one in the likes I haven’t had sense I was 21. My girlfriend sent out all these invitations and now the walls should fall down in this duplex located in the Platte Park Community. Tonight I have once again avoided the much needed cleaning and organization for my party to read some of the Elliot Smith book, play on the internet, listen to music, write two songs, blog etc. etc. and now I’m here tired and worthless and still not wanting to study my Spanish and clean the house like I know I should. I’ve got to get my ass in gear…I’ve got to. My dad’s having a party tonight…I think I’ll stop by.
Today was my last day of work for this 2005 year! My coworkers, along with my sister and surprisingly my boss took me to lunch. It was a swell time. My co-workers and I were hoping to beat the Bennigan’s waiters at their crunch game. During the lunch time Bennigans does this crunch thing were if the food takes longer than 15 minutes we get the meal free. One of the first things I said to the waitress when I sat down was…”Today’s my birthday so you better come out and embarrass everyone here” (as I pointed to my surrounding co-workers.) The waitress said, “We will be embarrassing you.” After our delightful meal full of gossip about other’s drinking habits, who’s on the bitchy list, and associates that decide to walk out during their shift we managed to finish our meals. I splurged on a gout infested tasty b-day treat (my b-day is really Jan. 1)…ah oriental chicken salad…yummy!!! I think I managed to offend one of my co-workers. I can’t go a day without at least one awkward moment. Sophia was getting all starry eyed talking about her husband and her two sons which of whom she loves beyond comprehension. Her sons are these two math whizzes. One is just entering college and the other is getting his doctorate. We were talking about how smart they were but she injected the comment about how they lack common sense. I swore right after she said the common sense part she said, “And motivation.” I thought that was funny because in psychology my teacher seemed really interested in the genius topic. She made hints that she was a genius because she was in this club called MENSMA??? Anyway she really drilled us on this concept that in order for a person to be successful they can’t just be smart (or genius) alone, they must be motivated as well. My teacher repeatedly commented on how most geniuses lack motivation because things come easily to them. I told that to Sophia and damn if I don’t think she took it the wrong way. She said, “NO! MY sons are motivated!” I just meant to say that I think it’s amazing her sons are geniuses…that’s all. So it’s cyberspace apology time….Sorry Sophia Sorry. So after the embarrassment I felt during the meal conversation a stream of waitresses came out clapping and they told me I needed to stand up for my birthday song. I did better than that as I catapulted to my chair and reached new heights. My co-workers were laughing along with the wait staff. I hope I embarrassed them. Then the in the song the waitresses came to this syncopated beat part where I jumped from the chair to the floor and raised my knees and stomped my feet in a jerky motion in sync with the beat…a roll of laughter came form everyone once I did that…..like I said…it was a swell time, and now for more news. I’ve been on conquistador of chaos mode for the last two weeks since schools been out. I haven’t been following my laid out schedule. I’ve been side tracked with this compulsive behavior thing called called doing nothing. I find myself taking naps. I find myself playing on the internet. I find myself goggling over the I-Tunes store. I find myself just sitting looking into space. I find myself relaxing and reading just for fun. All of this two week vacation is making me feel like a worthless slacker. I really need to clean my damn house and get organized for my birthday party. I’m having a bash…one in the likes I haven’t had sense I was 21. My girlfriend sent out all these invitations and now the walls should fall down in this duplex located in the Platte Park Community. Tonight I have once again avoided the much needed cleaning and organization for my party to read some of the Elliot Smith book, play on the internet, listen to music, write two songs, blog etc. etc. and now I’m here tired and worthless and still not wanting to study my Spanish and clean the house like I know I should. I’ve got to get my ass in gear…I’ve got to. My dad’s having a party tonight…I think I’ll stop by.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
May 23, 2005
Happy buzz!!!!
I took my step dad to Red Robin for his birthday dinner tonight. Nothing like corporate bars to make overly sweet fofo drinks that give me that warm happy buzz. I took my family and I to the Red Robin in A-Town by the old Buckingham mall. That land was my old youthful stomping ground every time I revisit I get flooded with such vibrant memories. I swear I have a photographic memory at times. If I had a photograph of my life now back then, man would I have tried to avoid this place. I look back at my teenage years and I was one crazy mother you know what full of laughter and charisma. I look at myself now and say who is this fat out of shape boring Tax Table Analyst or whatever they label me in the cube world. When a person lives such a crazy wildfire spur of the moment kind of life anything could and did happen. I used to get hit on by beautiful girls. I could fall in love at the drop of a hat, make a friend with my gleaming smile or get chased out of Highlands Ranch parties by 8 football playing pussies who were too afraid to take me on one by one just because their girls were looking at me and I wasn’t returning the love. Not to say I wouldn’t have got my ass beat one on one with anyone of those dudes but I was drunk enough to try. Now I’ve added about four inches to my waist and am lucky if I can keep a shinny rapport with the forty year old women I work with. Things change and I’m lucky to have had such fond memories. Right now I have fell off the track but I pray that the only thing that gets me back on is my art. I hope to be that prolific musician that could shape the world with his words and the move people’s butts with my melody and rhythm. Music was supposed to be my adulthood Nintendo. Where we would get together as adults and challenge each other’s music prowess and song writing skills. We would drink slurpees and learn how to rip on the seven modes and afterwards we would go out and chase the women. As I write this I realize that there is no use in conjuring up the past in envy or dreaming of the future in lust. All of those spontaneous capricious moments are manifested in every moment I breathe. (I read Rolling Stone today and Jack Ozzbourne is in the shape of his life and beating up professional Thai kick boxers…Come on now!!!) As time changes so do the precious memories and I’ve got to learn to view them in the grace in which they are received. All this from a happy corporate buzz.
Happy buzz!!!!
I took my step dad to Red Robin for his birthday dinner tonight. Nothing like corporate bars to make overly sweet fofo drinks that give me that warm happy buzz. I took my family and I to the Red Robin in A-Town by the old Buckingham mall. That land was my old youthful stomping ground every time I revisit I get flooded with such vibrant memories. I swear I have a photographic memory at times. If I had a photograph of my life now back then, man would I have tried to avoid this place. I look back at my teenage years and I was one crazy mother you know what full of laughter and charisma. I look at myself now and say who is this fat out of shape boring Tax Table Analyst or whatever they label me in the cube world. When a person lives such a crazy wildfire spur of the moment kind of life anything could and did happen. I used to get hit on by beautiful girls. I could fall in love at the drop of a hat, make a friend with my gleaming smile or get chased out of Highlands Ranch parties by 8 football playing pussies who were too afraid to take me on one by one just because their girls were looking at me and I wasn’t returning the love. Not to say I wouldn’t have got my ass beat one on one with anyone of those dudes but I was drunk enough to try. Now I’ve added about four inches to my waist and am lucky if I can keep a shinny rapport with the forty year old women I work with. Things change and I’m lucky to have had such fond memories. Right now I have fell off the track but I pray that the only thing that gets me back on is my art. I hope to be that prolific musician that could shape the world with his words and the move people’s butts with my melody and rhythm. Music was supposed to be my adulthood Nintendo. Where we would get together as adults and challenge each other’s music prowess and song writing skills. We would drink slurpees and learn how to rip on the seven modes and afterwards we would go out and chase the women. As I write this I realize that there is no use in conjuring up the past in envy or dreaming of the future in lust. All of those spontaneous capricious moments are manifested in every moment I breathe. (I read Rolling Stone today and Jack Ozzbourne is in the shape of his life and beating up professional Thai kick boxers…Come on now!!!) As time changes so do the precious memories and I’ve got to learn to view them in the grace in which they are received. All this from a happy corporate buzz.
Blogging
One good thing about a blog is you have a written record of your life to gage progress. Not much has changed in mine...except my ability to recall facts...My memory used to rock. I payed up a $100 bet to my girlfriend tonight. I'm not sure if the mistake was a memory glitch or a hearing glitch. One thing for sure hasn't changed and that's my writing style/content...I need to progress....so here is a six month old blog to prove my point.
June 1, 2005
Great Grandma Shirley was born December 27, 1926 (fellow Capricorn) in good ole’Denver Colorado. Tonight while visiting her daughter (Grandma Jackie the one dying at 58 of emphysema) I had to hold Grandma Shirley’s arm to escort her to her side of the family owned duplex; which just so happens to be located in the now posh Platte Park community. As we strolled bobbling side to side I said, “Grandma we need to get you one of those race car chairs” and she replied in her classic deadpan whiskey tenor voice, “shit I’d probably wreck the damn thing.” Her voice seemed to vaporize from her mouth like the 50 some odd years of smoke it took to create her finely aged tone. Shit I love my Grandma.
One good thing about a blog is you have a written record of your life to gage progress. Not much has changed in mine...except my ability to recall facts...My memory used to rock. I payed up a $100 bet to my girlfriend tonight. I'm not sure if the mistake was a memory glitch or a hearing glitch. One thing for sure hasn't changed and that's my writing style/content...I need to progress....so here is a six month old blog to prove my point.
June 1, 2005
Great Grandma Shirley was born December 27, 1926 (fellow Capricorn) in good ole’Denver Colorado. Tonight while visiting her daughter (Grandma Jackie the one dying at 58 of emphysema) I had to hold Grandma Shirley’s arm to escort her to her side of the family owned duplex; which just so happens to be located in the now posh Platte Park community. As we strolled bobbling side to side I said, “Grandma we need to get you one of those race car chairs” and she replied in her classic deadpan whiskey tenor voice, “shit I’d probably wreck the damn thing.” Her voice seemed to vaporize from her mouth like the 50 some odd years of smoke it took to create her finely aged tone. Shit I love my Grandma.
It’s a scary scary world out there.
Ok so today my manager was not at work. He was helping at the airport because it was slammed. We are having huge load factors so that’s good for the company. The day just seems to go by so smooth without him around. I don’t have to think about if I’m saying the right things or not. A person can’t accomplish a lot when they are walking on egg shells all the time. The most arbitrary things can trigger a comment of unhelpful ridicule. It’s really like an explosive button, one that doesn’t go off all the time but there are those uncomfortable moments at least once a week…at least. I guess I was naïve and will die naive. I thought when you grew up and went into the real world, the professional world everyone was part of this lean mean cohesive machine. I thought everyone had a job and would help each other accomplish the company goals. I thought people would have relationships where they were actual friends not cube dwellers that are less than acquaintances. I feel embarrassed because I invited all these co-workers to my birthday party and now 90% are hardly talking to me. I think it’s just the frigid cube culture. I talk to people all day in my cube and when I walk pass them in the halls they do the whole avoidance of eye contact thing. I wish someone would have warned me...if you hated high school...you will despise corporate culture. I feel like I have a big city mentality when it comes to politics and acceptance of cultures but maybe I have a small town philosophy when it comes to my relationships. I just wish everyone could be up front and genuine with each other…oh well I got to keep chuggin along my boot camp time in Revenue Accounting. Today another company employee died. This is the fourth in the last month. I can’t believe it. I didn’t personally know this lady but I’ve seen her walking around the halls and she just seemed like one of those bubbly people. She had two sons and a husband. Today one of the newest additions to our department walked out. She said she was going to run an errand and she just walked out. Pay is decent at our company, we have paid vacation, we have holidays like Christmas and New Year’s Day (my birthday) off, we have weekends off, we have a consistent schedule, we have health benefits and flight benefits but she felt the need to just go, without any notice. It’s very symbolic that we have all those benefits and it wasn’t even good enough of a situation for her to give two weeks notice. This lady even knew three other people in our department before she started. Because of the adversarial nature of our department we have been having these harassment training classes. In the class last week I complained that our department has a high turnover rate. The trainer replied, “People don’t quit jobs they quit people.” I told the trainer that I made this compliant to one of big wigs of our company at another meeting and the big wig said, “people leave for the money.” I was shocked by that response from the big wig but hey, I do appreciate strait talkers…I really do. The trainer said people know how much money they are going to make when they take the job. I agree with this. I know that we have social mobility in this culture but it’s really hard to take the human element out of the equation and I think here was a woman that worked with us for a month??? a month and a half or so??? When she walked out, she was walking out on the people.
Ok so today my manager was not at work. He was helping at the airport because it was slammed. We are having huge load factors so that’s good for the company. The day just seems to go by so smooth without him around. I don’t have to think about if I’m saying the right things or not. A person can’t accomplish a lot when they are walking on egg shells all the time. The most arbitrary things can trigger a comment of unhelpful ridicule. It’s really like an explosive button, one that doesn’t go off all the time but there are those uncomfortable moments at least once a week…at least. I guess I was naïve and will die naive. I thought when you grew up and went into the real world, the professional world everyone was part of this lean mean cohesive machine. I thought everyone had a job and would help each other accomplish the company goals. I thought people would have relationships where they were actual friends not cube dwellers that are less than acquaintances. I feel embarrassed because I invited all these co-workers to my birthday party and now 90% are hardly talking to me. I think it’s just the frigid cube culture. I talk to people all day in my cube and when I walk pass them in the halls they do the whole avoidance of eye contact thing. I wish someone would have warned me...if you hated high school...you will despise corporate culture. I feel like I have a big city mentality when it comes to politics and acceptance of cultures but maybe I have a small town philosophy when it comes to my relationships. I just wish everyone could be up front and genuine with each other…oh well I got to keep chuggin along my boot camp time in Revenue Accounting. Today another company employee died. This is the fourth in the last month. I can’t believe it. I didn’t personally know this lady but I’ve seen her walking around the halls and she just seemed like one of those bubbly people. She had two sons and a husband. Today one of the newest additions to our department walked out. She said she was going to run an errand and she just walked out. Pay is decent at our company, we have paid vacation, we have holidays like Christmas and New Year’s Day (my birthday) off, we have weekends off, we have a consistent schedule, we have health benefits and flight benefits but she felt the need to just go, without any notice. It’s very symbolic that we have all those benefits and it wasn’t even good enough of a situation for her to give two weeks notice. This lady even knew three other people in our department before she started. Because of the adversarial nature of our department we have been having these harassment training classes. In the class last week I complained that our department has a high turnover rate. The trainer replied, “People don’t quit jobs they quit people.” I told the trainer that I made this compliant to one of big wigs of our company at another meeting and the big wig said, “people leave for the money.” I was shocked by that response from the big wig but hey, I do appreciate strait talkers…I really do. The trainer said people know how much money they are going to make when they take the job. I agree with this. I know that we have social mobility in this culture but it’s really hard to take the human element out of the equation and I think here was a woman that worked with us for a month??? a month and a half or so??? When she walked out, she was walking out on the people.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
LoveSeventy eight years on this planet and my grandmother Shirley has earned a Whiskey Tenor voice blessed enough to do some classic voiceovers in Hollywood and a spine curved enough that it would put the Riddler’s question mark logo to shame. Yesterday I stopped by her duplex in the Platte Park community to drop off her birthday presents (she’s a fellow Capricorn.) I could see the final days of dementia kicking in. Her white hair is this cotton-ball mane, very mad scientist-esque. Her dense wrinkles are amassed with paper thin skin. She looked me over with her one good eye and demanded a kiss. I lean over to get a whiff of her permanent Marlboros and coffee scent. Red wine stains, coffee stains but now I would have to urge the world to advance its horizon and realize that smells stain. Her smell is a stain, something not original but an accidental part of her forevermore. Her mind picks up on topics and takes them on a free fall of association as she grasps onto nouns and digresses them into anything she can spontaneously attach it to. I guess that’s nothing new in the human skill of conversation but while we journey down the road of communication she will stutter kick the topics into la la land. My aunt (her daughter) said something about this place call Del Mar’s that she ate at on 17th and Larimer. Grandma Shirley grabbed the wheel of the conversation and said, “You remember…Elmer? I used to work with him in that grocery store. Wasn’t he my boss?” It’s crazy to watch a vibrant personality like my grandmother’s as it gets roped down by time. It’s been a difficult year watching my Grandmother Jackie (Grandma Shirley’s daughter) slowly dying with emphysema. In one little duplex in Denver you have a combined history of over 130 years between two women. These years are winding down for them in some god awful race to the end. Who will it be? Grandma Jackie or Shirley, its daughter against mother and the world as I know it will be rearranged. I sit here struggling with my job my art my schooling this rat race and years are slipping away from our relationships rendering my soul with a helpless feeling of guilt. Is it enough for me to sit here bleeding through my words…with thought and memories of these extraordinary ladies? Is it enough to keep doing my thing with this periodic scream in the ear of cyberspace?????? HEY GRANDMA JACKIE….HEY GRANDMA SHIRLEY I LOVE U!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I look at my family’s life. The whole lot of us lower middle class Denverites and I wish it would have been better. Not that there are regrets just that somehow things could have turned out better. We could have learned form all the financial, emotional and relationship mistakes. We could have somehow risen above them learned form them and become stronger. My family is so utterly awashed in their sadness and mistakes…they are drowning in their inadequacies that they forget their strengths and have no hope for progressive change. We all know we love each other but we are all so juxtapositioned into our stations that I have no clue I how I can cement the power of that love into their heads…So I guess I can just keeping screaming into cyberspace and see if there is any lucky magic in this whole binary universe.
FAMILY I LOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEE U!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
10 minutes of peace/piece
So many things are spinning and I’m dizzy in the cliché, dizzy in the rat race. This is the art of the 10 minute blog. It’s the exquisite execution of a master lost in itself controlling my life as I knell down before him/her-- time. I went to see Narnia on Christmas day. I’m not sure how to spell it but I don’t have time to check that. Today is another spent on four hours sleep. I read about 80 pages from this biography on Elliott Smith’s life. I would go look up the title to include it but I don’t have time. The writing in the book sucks and I’m sure it’s rubbing off on me. The author went into the whole Religious percepts of The Church of Jesus Christ. They are this other sect of people that believe in the book of Mormon founded by that Smith guy. I guess they are different than Mormons because they don’t do that whole polygamy thing and they don’t have some other weird afterlife belief either. I think the author needed to fill pages in the already puny or diminutive (I should day) book’s size. See I’m 5’9’’, and what a coincidence so was Elliott Smith. When describing his height the author used the adjective diminutive. OOOHHHHHH TTTiiiimmmeeeee up. What the hell does that mean???? Did master time go UP somewhere?
So many things are spinning and I’m dizzy in the cliché, dizzy in the rat race. This is the art of the 10 minute blog. It’s the exquisite execution of a master lost in itself controlling my life as I knell down before him/her-- time. I went to see Narnia on Christmas day. I’m not sure how to spell it but I don’t have time to check that. Today is another spent on four hours sleep. I read about 80 pages from this biography on Elliott Smith’s life. I would go look up the title to include it but I don’t have time. The writing in the book sucks and I’m sure it’s rubbing off on me. The author went into the whole Religious percepts of The Church of Jesus Christ. They are this other sect of people that believe in the book of Mormon founded by that Smith guy. I guess they are different than Mormons because they don’t do that whole polygamy thing and they don’t have some other weird afterlife belief either. I think the author needed to fill pages in the already puny or diminutive (I should day) book’s size. See I’m 5’9’’, and what a coincidence so was Elliott Smith. When describing his height the author used the adjective diminutive. OOOHHHHHH TTTiiiimmmeeeee up. What the hell does that mean???? Did master time go UP somewhere?
Monday, December 26, 2005
Is Halfassed a word?
The Gamits are ultimately frustrating to me. I guess everything in life becomes one frustration after another as we grow into this society that attempts to eliminate the human element in everything. It’s sad because we are taught to distrust corporations and support mom and pop shops but when it comes down to it I want to support people. I used to go to this independently owned record shop called Twist and Shout but those scenester fucks treated my like another CD consuming scum (in so many ways I know I am.) You’d think that if you went to a place every week for 2-3 months someone might know your name it would be a stretch to say musical preference but what about your face? I’m sorry but if a build a better rapport with someone at Best Buy then I’ll take my business there. But as I said the human element is really gone. I basically settle for my music shopping to be done at Second Spin. That’s still a shop where no one knows my name or music but I think they recognize my face. For the most part they don’t treat me like anything at all which is a step up from a music consuming scum. There’s just no human element left. What is it about childhood where that element can’t help but persist? ------What just happened? My girlfriend just dropped a bomb and walked out of the room. Jesus that was horrible. She didn’t even say anything. I must have trained her well-------
Now I purchase music from the I-Tunes store, got humans? This brings me back to the frustration of The Gamits who was my favorite band for the longest time. I guess they were my favorite band because they were so good and they were local. It just make me thing something good could come out of Denver. They were pop punk without being Blink-182 or New Found Glory-ish bubble gum. Bubble gum bands are fun and sweet for a little while before they grow stale. I never grew tired of The Gamits. It was always just fun power pop and great song writing. My dad got me The Gamits’ box set for Christmas. I spent part of my yesterday reading the two booklet set it came with. I’ve actually spent a good part of this quickly depleting break reading about bands like the Trail of the Dead and Elliot Smith. My reading struck two fundamental chords; first, I’m light years behind in my art and second, it takes interaction with people to lead to the creation of good art. Chris Fogal of The Gamits had his best friend Matt conjugated together and made music all the time. Not to mention they had a large well of shared memories to write music from. The Trail of the Dead, my god, the musicianship/artistry of that Conrad Keely guy was amazing. I watched their DVD that came with their new CD and he was playing the violin by ear...and he’s no violin player. It seemed like he wrote the music for the various instrumentals to play. He was reading piano music etc etc. Elliot Smith (who on more of a character level reminds me of Nick Drake) grew up playing music. It was probably in his blood to be amazing considering his dad was a doctor and his family had him playing instruments in grade school; I was barely potty trained by grade school. I’m just so fucking frustrated. Last night I tried to watch a Gamits video that came with the box set. It said I had to have quick time 7.2 which I thought I had but I clicked on the link to launch the video and nothing happened. So I went to the site and attempted to download the software but it failed last night. Now I can’t open my I-tunes which has my entire music library because the Quick Time software if connected to that. The Gamits probably didn’t put the videos to the link yet. I was trying to play the B-Side demo CD of the box set and it was the live CD. So they misprinted what album was which. What a halfassed job The Gamits and Suburban Home (their record label) did to represent such a beautiful 10 year career. I’m frustrated frustrated frustrated. On top of that they cut out my part on the live CD. The part when Chris Fogal reads his thank u’s and he said something to the effect of, “I realize now that the whole point of this was to play shows and just have the most fun we could.” The audience myself included was quite so I responded….”Duh!!!” He heard me and looked kind of shocked and the show moved on. Needless to say my insightful comments where not maintained on this recorded version of their final show. I guess everyone missed Chris’ point, my point and the entire point of being in a band. Frustrating….I tried to write a song last night and I realized how fucking stupid I am and it was and I’m going backward all the time. I woke up with a dull empty feeling in the center of my body cavity and it just scares me that I’m not living my life. As if I’m just living like some sort of misplaced tool in everybody else’s’ fucked up game. Everyone around me finds cathartic release in something but that release is something life is not granting me. I’m watching everyone my age being young having fun with friends and their youthful appearances. While I’m sinking in this desert’s quicksand working my ass off go keep my head from sinking all my peers are having some elaborate gala bash around me in the safe part of the desert. Everyone is interested in their own good time to notice an artist is dying.
The Gamits are ultimately frustrating to me. I guess everything in life becomes one frustration after another as we grow into this society that attempts to eliminate the human element in everything. It’s sad because we are taught to distrust corporations and support mom and pop shops but when it comes down to it I want to support people. I used to go to this independently owned record shop called Twist and Shout but those scenester fucks treated my like another CD consuming scum (in so many ways I know I am.) You’d think that if you went to a place every week for 2-3 months someone might know your name it would be a stretch to say musical preference but what about your face? I’m sorry but if a build a better rapport with someone at Best Buy then I’ll take my business there. But as I said the human element is really gone. I basically settle for my music shopping to be done at Second Spin. That’s still a shop where no one knows my name or music but I think they recognize my face. For the most part they don’t treat me like anything at all which is a step up from a music consuming scum. There’s just no human element left. What is it about childhood where that element can’t help but persist? ------What just happened? My girlfriend just dropped a bomb and walked out of the room. Jesus that was horrible. She didn’t even say anything. I must have trained her well-------
Now I purchase music from the I-Tunes store, got humans? This brings me back to the frustration of The Gamits who was my favorite band for the longest time. I guess they were my favorite band because they were so good and they were local. It just make me thing something good could come out of Denver. They were pop punk without being Blink-182 or New Found Glory-ish bubble gum. Bubble gum bands are fun and sweet for a little while before they grow stale. I never grew tired of The Gamits. It was always just fun power pop and great song writing. My dad got me The Gamits’ box set for Christmas. I spent part of my yesterday reading the two booklet set it came with. I’ve actually spent a good part of this quickly depleting break reading about bands like the Trail of the Dead and Elliot Smith. My reading struck two fundamental chords; first, I’m light years behind in my art and second, it takes interaction with people to lead to the creation of good art. Chris Fogal of The Gamits had his best friend Matt conjugated together and made music all the time. Not to mention they had a large well of shared memories to write music from. The Trail of the Dead, my god, the musicianship/artistry of that Conrad Keely guy was amazing. I watched their DVD that came with their new CD and he was playing the violin by ear...and he’s no violin player. It seemed like he wrote the music for the various instrumentals to play. He was reading piano music etc etc. Elliot Smith (who on more of a character level reminds me of Nick Drake) grew up playing music. It was probably in his blood to be amazing considering his dad was a doctor and his family had him playing instruments in grade school; I was barely potty trained by grade school. I’m just so fucking frustrated. Last night I tried to watch a Gamits video that came with the box set. It said I had to have quick time 7.2 which I thought I had but I clicked on the link to launch the video and nothing happened. So I went to the site and attempted to download the software but it failed last night. Now I can’t open my I-tunes which has my entire music library because the Quick Time software if connected to that. The Gamits probably didn’t put the videos to the link yet. I was trying to play the B-Side demo CD of the box set and it was the live CD. So they misprinted what album was which. What a halfassed job The Gamits and Suburban Home (their record label) did to represent such a beautiful 10 year career. I’m frustrated frustrated frustrated. On top of that they cut out my part on the live CD. The part when Chris Fogal reads his thank u’s and he said something to the effect of, “I realize now that the whole point of this was to play shows and just have the most fun we could.” The audience myself included was quite so I responded….”Duh!!!” He heard me and looked kind of shocked and the show moved on. Needless to say my insightful comments where not maintained on this recorded version of their final show. I guess everyone missed Chris’ point, my point and the entire point of being in a band. Frustrating….I tried to write a song last night and I realized how fucking stupid I am and it was and I’m going backward all the time. I woke up with a dull empty feeling in the center of my body cavity and it just scares me that I’m not living my life. As if I’m just living like some sort of misplaced tool in everybody else’s’ fucked up game. Everyone around me finds cathartic release in something but that release is something life is not granting me. I’m watching everyone my age being young having fun with friends and their youthful appearances. While I’m sinking in this desert’s quicksand working my ass off go keep my head from sinking all my peers are having some elaborate gala bash around me in the safe part of the desert. Everyone is interested in their own good time to notice an artist is dying.
Life in a Bag
God I feel like I’m trying to learn music through a zip lock bag sheltered from extremities of the outside world. There’s no one around to push me. There’s no one around to talk to. There’s no one trying to build this little band dream with me. There’s no energy then the air tight isolation of a metronome and some music reading books and tab. I feel so out of touch with this music thing. We all learned the English language as kids. Through years of cultivation we are up to par and have the ability to express ourselves with words. We know rules and we know when we are breakin’em. I mean come on I personally try to invent a new word to inject into just about every damn blog I write…and why not? Language is alive and changing just like any soul filled entity. Blog is a relatively new word to the world of our language. So everyday I can play showman with the landscape of words and verse and rhymes for my own little delight. In fact I write everyday. I’m not sure what my life would be without it. It’s odd how this site thing is a pretty good symbol for my life. I type away here thinking I’m doing something beautifully strong and meaningful. Then I hit the next button on my page and see people posting Christmas lists and getting 10 responses to the interesting insights they have given the world. Anywho, we all have probably forgot what struggles we went through to get to where we are in our abilities of using language as a form of expression. I’m sure my struggle we more gruelish then most because here I am again trying my rounds with this music shit. Now I have tangible evidence of how slow of a learner I am. I wish I had a hand a friend someone not bound to me by the bond of money to share this growing learning musical existence. I realize everyday that this zip lock bag is all this world has set aside for the gaudy dreams of mine. I guess I’m somehow going to take it before I leave it but god I wish I was in the position to make that decision right now. You know I just don’t get it yet. I just don’t get how to pick up that guitar and write. Everyday I come here to this blank white screen and fill it with black characters of meaning. I feel confident to take any little idea and twist it into a laid down thought of expression. Not that what I say is wonderful or insightful or grammatical or what the fuck ever…it’s just that I know I can do it. I can form my soul on the blank page through a fit of twiddling fingers and a little John Lennon playing in the background. I can turn my head and take a glance of my girl and then dance with my fingers more. I can…well I can just shut up…but not before one last bitching request to the forces somewhere outside this zip lock bag.
Hello Real World,
If you look at the ominously written expiration date on the zip lock bag you have placed me in…you’ll see that its contents ME are going to expire and spoil. So please get me out of here and let me join the ranks of the world outside of this isolation. I think it would be a shame if you let me waste.
Thanks,
Nick D
God I feel like I’m trying to learn music through a zip lock bag sheltered from extremities of the outside world. There’s no one around to push me. There’s no one around to talk to. There’s no one trying to build this little band dream with me. There’s no energy then the air tight isolation of a metronome and some music reading books and tab. I feel so out of touch with this music thing. We all learned the English language as kids. Through years of cultivation we are up to par and have the ability to express ourselves with words. We know rules and we know when we are breakin’em. I mean come on I personally try to invent a new word to inject into just about every damn blog I write…and why not? Language is alive and changing just like any soul filled entity. Blog is a relatively new word to the world of our language. So everyday I can play showman with the landscape of words and verse and rhymes for my own little delight. In fact I write everyday. I’m not sure what my life would be without it. It’s odd how this site thing is a pretty good symbol for my life. I type away here thinking I’m doing something beautifully strong and meaningful. Then I hit the next button on my page and see people posting Christmas lists and getting 10 responses to the interesting insights they have given the world. Anywho, we all have probably forgot what struggles we went through to get to where we are in our abilities of using language as a form of expression. I’m sure my struggle we more gruelish then most because here I am again trying my rounds with this music shit. Now I have tangible evidence of how slow of a learner I am. I wish I had a hand a friend someone not bound to me by the bond of money to share this growing learning musical existence. I realize everyday that this zip lock bag is all this world has set aside for the gaudy dreams of mine. I guess I’m somehow going to take it before I leave it but god I wish I was in the position to make that decision right now. You know I just don’t get it yet. I just don’t get how to pick up that guitar and write. Everyday I come here to this blank white screen and fill it with black characters of meaning. I feel confident to take any little idea and twist it into a laid down thought of expression. Not that what I say is wonderful or insightful or grammatical or what the fuck ever…it’s just that I know I can do it. I can form my soul on the blank page through a fit of twiddling fingers and a little John Lennon playing in the background. I can turn my head and take a glance of my girl and then dance with my fingers more. I can…well I can just shut up…but not before one last bitching request to the forces somewhere outside this zip lock bag.
Hello Real World,
If you look at the ominously written expiration date on the zip lock bag you have placed me in…you’ll see that its contents ME are going to expire and spoil. So please get me out of here and let me join the ranks of the world outside of this isolation. I think it would be a shame if you let me waste.
Thanks,
Nick D
