2003-09-13 - 11:39 a.m.

Part rockin' riff-out, part noise-fest, I love not caring what I record as long as I'm recording.

I really should hook up through line-in instead of micing on of the satellites because I'm not capturing any bass. Crappy. Oh well, that's what I get for being half-assed. The important thing is that I play.

Hmm .. let's see. Had a half-regular-coffee cup of coffee yesterday. Knew I was being bad. Couldn't get to sleep till 4am. Ollied two 2-liter bottles next to each other. Ollied and ollied until I practically strained my groin muscles. I want to go back today but I don't know if I could handle the pain, or if I would really injure myself in the repetitive strain sense.

I got a checkmark from my 6 year old brother. I started playing guitar pretty loud and next thing I know there's a knock on my door. My brother says "a checkmark is good and an X is bad" and he gives me a folded slip of paper. Of course I unfolded it right then and enjoyed the sight of the backward checkmark :) I'll date that now and put it in the chest.

I would dearly love to jam with a bassist and drummer.

Chips would be good.

Oh yeah, I got a hold of Benoit yesterday. Turns out I had Pam's work hours confused with him and kept calling just after he'd left for work. 3pm, 4pm, what the hell. Anyway I'm going up for a visit in 1 week. Actually less since I'll be heading up thursday. I can't wait. Literally hanging on every minute, at least in a small fraction of my mind.

Reading a freaked out book called Hyperion by Dan Simmons. Probably the single most messed up book I've read in recent memory. Actually probably the single most. Yes, I'll award the crown. I'm easy.

I miss people. I miss the past and want to not relive it but renew it. It would be fab to have a desert island with all my friends on it so we could hang out in perpetuity, in a cloud of fun.

I don't know what I want or where I'm going. I'm enjoying myself, though. I can't forget to get an oil change before I leave for my trip. I should call my grandparents today to check that next weekend is a good one for going to visit. An ounce of fun beats a pound of beatings.

Scattered, yet not shit-like, these thoughts. I told you Hyperion was messed up. I don't know where I am or why. I'm listening to myself sound like a monkey on crack playing guitar with a bull whip. It's not that good or that bad, it's just lonely and exploratory and discoveratory. Yes, Virginia, that isn't a word.

5. invad the gils

Oh yes, another little tidbit: while searching for Benoit's email address (little free-floating bits of paper are a large part of my life) I found a receipt from the art gallery of Windsor. Yes, I did decide on the spur of the moment to sign up for the second half of the watercolour class. No, I didn't remember about it from a point 5 minutes after the purchase till finding the receipt a few days ago. A waste of $75 and a path that led through more painting. I haven't painted with physical material since that last class. Don't know why.

It's know only that I don't *know* why, it's that I never *ask* why. I just move on to the next thing. It is the simple fact of my existence that I will not finish the things I start unless they occur in a neat package of time that my addled brain can easily digest. Like making RDS tracks. Who cares if I spent an hour in a stifling trailer park trash bedroom in the heat of summer endlessly waiting for a crawling processor to let me shape digits and bits into a hyper-creative limit-pushing video game racing track? At least I accomplished something! Ha! Not. Where is that accomplishment now? It occurred to me to wonder if Saara still has the thing, and the disks.. did I keep them or give them too? Would those hours and hours of frowned-brow creativity in little addled-mind manageable chunks still live on? Would it even be possible for me to create a game that emulated that one? Would I finish it? It certainly isn't a neat addled-mind manageable chunk. But that isn't a true limitation, just my meaningless (?) ramble choice of words diatribe output.

Bleah.

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