lab·o·ra·to·ry

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 06:13:35 GMT

Such beautiful
and complicated
times

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 06:36:08 GMT

In Latest news.

My bike tire was stolen.

What readers.

Wed, 03 Sep 2008 04:18:08 GMT

Call it the last weekend of the summer. Call it a holiday weekend. Call it what I felt might be one of the more important weekends of my life. It was fun, and shitty, and cool, and beautiful, and unexpected. A standard 2 hour trip to Long Island bulged into almost a 6 hour drive home on Friday. Too much eager traffic crashing into each other, failing the Long Island Expressway completely. I did not realize, nor have I wasted my thoughts on the time I spent in the car on the way home. It is just stupid wasted memory of sing-a-longs staring at brake lights. I don't know what it is, but the weekend, mostly felt hollow, or almost wrong. Wrong isn't exactly the right word, but I've never had a more twisted weekend on Long Island. Friday night was most casual, and Saturday was relaxing as well. Sunday was incredible. Monday was just hollow. Waiting on things that didn't pan out. I have not escaped this feeling that something is lurking. Something dark. Without form. My own insides are twisting up thinking about it. I can't even talk about my weekend like any normal person. I'd save it for personal times. It is just the memory. I'm chasing it. I'm always doing that. The fantastic moments spring themselves from out of nowhere and before I know it. They are over.

Time passed out and under covers.

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 22:22:21 GMT

This past weekend, I headed out to Long Island, for only the 2nd time this whole summer. Honestly, I can't say I miss being out there doing the same ish on a daily/nightly basis. Of course things were different way back when, but being what it is now I'm satisfied on a 2 day trip. The only thing that does not satisfy me is not being able to spend more quality time with mom. No matter how much I see her, I don't feel like it is ever enough time. Like there should be so much more to us spending time together. It doesn't leave me empty, but it makes me feel like I didn't do enough with her at all. Granted I do talk to my mother more that my father, but that actual time spent together is most important. I mean she cleaned my teeth and everything Friday morning, being a hygentist and all, but still I don't feel like that was enough. Mom doesn't read live journal, but I'll tell her on the phone the next time we chat.

My younger brother and I also took in 2 movies this weekend, those being Pineapple Express and Mirrors. Pineapple Express and most definitely being a weed smoker will add to your enjoyment of the movie. There aren't any sort of Weed In-Jokes that you would only get if you smoked, but some scenes are funnier because of a foreknowledge on how a smoker might act in the situation. Overall it was a good flick, Mirrors on the other hand...I wouldn't say it was bad. You know like when a movie is bad it knocks the wind out of you with its shittiness. Personally I tend to steer clear of movies that I hear are garbage. 2 reasons, I don't want to bother with shitty movies, because their shitty, and...well maybe only one reason. Does this make me sound like an elitist? A movie snob? I don't know. Frankly it doesn't matter. I don't watch as many movies as I used to, so when I do actually watch one I want it to be good. I hadn't heard anything about Mirrors, but after seeing the trailer and being familiar with the Director's previous work I was interested. Basically the movie is silly and doesn't really find the need to make a whole lot of sense. The film is based on a Korean movie, and if you've seen recent Japanese, or Japanese based horror movies, they tend to do away with any sort of structure just relying on ambiance and scare. I didn't really feel Mirrors was that shitty, but just kinda whatever it is. A horror movie isn't going to change your life these days, like Jaws or Alien would. Jaws kept me out of the ocean for about 15 years. Mirrors isn't going to do anything like that except make you wonder how someone can get away with taking a nun at gunpoint, or make you wonder how people are always seemingly disbelieving of shit like this. If one of my friends, or my significant other was going through some traumatic shit I'd be all sorts of interested. Lets go bust some fucking ghosts and shit.

Anything else I could add about my weekend is going to have no point of reference for you. It was all just feeling and good times. Listening to Fleet Foxes and thinking about where some good spots around the backyard would be to gaze into the stars.

Fat Chunks - This one is for memory.

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 04:43:47 GMT

This summer is defined by its weekends no doubt. During the week it is work and shoot me in the mouth if I blog about what I'm doing at work. 4 words. Dicking around with life. Therefore my flip mode engages when I escape those doors and have a break out weekend. This weekend I frolicked around Manhattan, mainly SoHo and Sutton Place. I hung out with one of my long island home girls that I had not seen in a good amount of time and her two cousins. We hit up overpriced vintage stores, Bathing Ape and some other joints. This was my first time really walking around SoHo, and Sutton Place for that matter. As there was an insistence of no rain, we kept happening to be inside when the skies dropped buckets, during lunch. More uptown I hit up Dylan's Candy Bar, FAO Schwartz, and Serendipity for the first time. I had the frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity, as is norm. Goddamn! That's a pretty fuckin' good milk shake. I don't know if it's worth ~~five dollars~~ $8.50, but it's pretty fuckin' good. We were lucky enough to have a cool afternoon and blue skies while waiting to get into Serendipity, of course as we got out it was raining again, and we hid in Dylans while people drown. After going back to SoHo, we lost one of the cousins on the train as he was too eager to get in, and we were left waiting on the platform as he pulled away. We scooped him up at the next station and parted ways at Penn Station. I also helped a blind man find the steps in Penn Station for the amtrak. I couldn't fathom trying to make it around in there without having the ability to see, especially on a Friday in the middle of the afternoon. After that I did a blind trek up to BX to catch my best friends. My phone had died during the day and I kept calling but no answer. So I was risking getting home what probably would have been an hour or so earlier if they weren't home, or chilling and getting into a good time. The Lord was on my side, and they happened to be there. We fell into the abyss of the Olympics Opening ceremony, and god damn it was bananas. Youtube it. Bittorrent. anything. It was fantastic. The lil bullshit screen on your computer isn't going to compare seeing it on a 50 inch flatscreen. There will be an obligatory DVD release of the games surely, and the opening ceremony is worth it. Other than that, are we winning? I have no idea. There was also some scrabble tossed in, and I ended up in third. Vindication will be mine!

Saturday...? What happened. I am typing as I think. Oh yes, I laid low and made the apartment sparkle. Eventually I went to houseparty in crompton and the cops were already there when I arrived. Somehow 10 people in the basement warranted one cop to come and stick his pig nose into the private lives of normal citizens. Anyway, he bounced and the night spiraled away. A beer pong and flip game or so later, I was wearing a Mexican Wrestling mask and telling a girl there how if she wore it during sex it might mess up my rhythm. She didn't seem to think so. There was also much laughter talking with 3 young ladies from Liverpool doing their impressions of Australian's or attempting an American Accent. Of course we butchered the English accent up and down the entire night. It turned silly. Somehow I ended up with a fake mustache on too. Eventually I decided I'll not drive home, but instead sleep in my car. Why bother sleeping inside? Who knows? I don't know. I had work in 11 hours and I had on a fake mustache. I had to find sleep somewhere. And what a better place to wake up than my car so I could just drive right off when I woke up stiff and confused. I don't know how I ended up in the backseat, but I do remember setting my phone alarm. Totally useless with sunrise through Honda windows.

It is only Wednesday now, 40 minutes old. I'm about 2/3rds of the way through the 3rd Harry Potter book. I have not read ANY OF THEM. So i'm going to wrap this wizard up by the end of august. I breezed through the first 2 books last week. I'd like to push through the Dark Tower books too this year, but maybe I'll save those for the slow winter train rides. I'm looking forward to going to Long Island this weekend. Movies to watch. Grass to Burn. Sunsets to see. Ocean waters to drown in.

I'll still toss up my manifesto soon. I want to read it over again. I'd love to see you read the whole thing that remains a mystery! IT IS COMING OH IT IS COMING

out back

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 04:19:42 GMT

Let's commemorate this weekend as the weekend, I ran into 3 police officers on 3 separate occasions and only ended up with one ticket. Where I got sloshed at the Guggenheim, also going there for the first time, and seeing the Dark Knight for the second time. Where I also start to explain how the summer isn't over yet, even though people are saying it is. WTF it is warm until November. Summer isn't over until there is snow on the ground.

Save Money

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 12:41:36 GMT

I am working on this post for you. I started writing in my note book the other day, and by the end, I wrote ten pages of brain spillage. I'll get to that shortly. I do want to gloat and say that I figured out how to save 90 dollars a year on car insurance. Apparently there is this certain type of insurance called "Pleasure Driver" or something. You can take this insurance if you do not drive your car to work. Since I'm taking the train everyday I qualify. Boom. Money saved. Talk to your agent today.

So what?

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 04:15:17 GMT

I'm giving myself until 12:15 to update you about my life since my last entry. I look at LJ everyday, but everyday there doesn't feel like there is enough going on to warrant an entry. Maybe there is. I crunch all my good times into 2 days during the week, and the rest I spend, working, sleeping, and playing XBox. I've been hanging out with friends from Westchester mostly. Keeping it local. Last week I had 5 whole days off from work and I enjoyed them off very much. Friday night, was a night to remember. I'll get into that more later with a private post because it concerns some things I'd prefer to not have sit freely on the internet. Oh a mystery! I did catch Hellboy II during my break and it was limp. It is a cool fantasy film but that is where it ends. I shrug at Hellboy.

Time is up.

Quick Business.

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 06:07:46 GMT

Ah word it has been a week since my last post. It has felt much longer than that. Last week, and the week before that have been a lil banana split. 31 people were laid off at my company, which is 7% of the organization. Of the 31 people, 3 of those people held the same position I do. It came as a total shock to everyone, but honestly when you are at the bottom of the corporate pile, and you go through company meetings about how we are doing, quarter this, investor that and yadda yadda, you don't understand. You want your paycheck and you want to go home. Far as I felt/knew everything was cool but money has to be saved for further development and you know the economy is a pile of doody. It sucks and I'm not thinking about it. Since that has happened I've been given more work to do (good sign) which is a fun change from doing the space monkey work all day. I've just begun to burn dvd's for our system and bounce around on remote servers. like you care.
Then this past weekend got upended when I tried to make it down to Brooklyn to hang out with some friends but never fucking made it there when I was 3 blocks away after driving aimlessly for I don't know. A hour? Maybe an hour and a half. A combination of frustration, being tired, being intoxicated amounted to me neglecting to hang out with my fucking homey for his birthday. I feel sore as hell about it and I'm working on something I can do to make it up. I kept getting lost and it just sucked.
Everything else has been pushing along rapidly. The year will be half over in approximately 5 days, and I'm still at the same job messing around but I've had some thoughts and ponderings on future decisions with life. I've thought more about what I'd like to do, the root of the things I've considered doing in the past, something steady, something smart. Things are lining up, and it would make sense, but I need to see if it will be financially possible. I'll let the mystery remain. I am well aware of my presented attempts at oh i'm doing this and never do it. Fuck it. I'm trying. I don't feel like I'm being judged and I'm happy with what I got. Am I defending myself against nobody right now? Yes.

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 20:50:28 GMT

TIM RUSSERT DIESSSSSSSSSSSS RED ALERT CNN CNN RED ALERTTTTTTTTTTTTT ahhhh

So what if i'm cynical? Are you kidding me with that right now?

Spilling Ketchup.

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 05:07:38 GMT

After my fury of bloggings last week, I took a lil' break to catch my breath, but here we go into the fold. Since the last post on Monday the 26th, I watched the week disappear from me. On Monday I worked 5 quick hours, then spent the rest of the evening with Pascale and family down in Brooklyn. She is going away for most of the summer, and I had to catch up with her. I was down in Sunset Park, which is a park of Brooklyn I had never been before. I've actually never been to that many places in Brooklyn, but this is one for the list. It was you know, Brooklyn. Stoops and youth.

The rest of the week went by and by. On Wednesday I went to the doctor to get a tick bite looked at. I found one in my thigh while I was on Long Island a few days before. It was raised and looking red, I wasn't that concerned with it, but never hurts to get it checked out. Anyway I rolled out to the doctor and was able to secure a sit down. She wanted to draw blood to check and make sure everything was okay, and also check me for STD's. I didn't mention I had a LiveJournal, Myspace, and Facebook, but if I did, I think an STD check would have been mandatory. Not there was anything wrong with my business, or that I ever messed with a grimy chick, but better to check. Because I am a lazy non eating sort of guy in the morning, I didn't eat or drink anything before hitting the doctor, which I told her and the nurse that was going to take my blood. I've had blood taken before and felt pretty woozy during that. Today I was going for the win. Needles don't bother me, just so long as I'm not looking at it going into skin, mine or presented in Fantasy on television or in film. So she starts taking the blood, and my stomach is starting to feel warm, and before I even realized what happened, I passed out. It was probably only for 2 seconds as I woke up to the doctor who treated me, and 2 other nurses come in, one waving some smelling salt under my nose to get me moving. I was laughing about it, but I've never passed out like that before. It really struck me and stayed with me the whole day. It made me think about how one could be injured, start bleeding out, pass out, and never wake up. Morbid yes, but peaceful and easy, and comforting that the ease out of life could be painless. I'm not saying I am pleased to have physically come to this realization and given some mortal comfort, but it was like it was nothing. One moment, my stomach is burning and I am sitting comfortably in the chair, the next I was gone. I don't know enough about what happens to a person when they pass out, if my body would naturally kick over, but it was just a strange, strange feeling.

The remainder of my time up to this moment was spent going to Brooklyn again on Thursday to watch LOST with Jimmy and Mel, and stopping in the South Bronx for a hot moment with my Besties.
Friday I enjoyed gorgeous weather and picked up a new desk chair, a down mattress pad, and some odds and ends for a party I hit up later in the night.
Saturday, James and I switched rooms in the apartment, which took pretty much all day, and I'm still yet to be settled.
Sunday is work.
Monday is now 2 hours old, and I'm working on getting more music onto my computer than I ever have the hopes of listening to and GTA IV burning a hole in my soul.

The island bounce.

Sun, 25 May 2008 20:44:51 GMT

And we are back again. The trip to Long Island was blink and you miss it. I did the smart thing and drove out there Friday morning after getting what felt like the first good night's sleep in a week. Srs biz. I have not been sleeping well ~~lately~~ ever. Too many things run and toss around in my bean for me to settle down for the next day. I'm going to try something new tonight, I believe it is called relaxing your fucking brain. Should work out top bills.

Anyway, I had a nice drive out to the Island on Friday and caught up with Mom for a quick lunch before tossing down some Rock Band with my Brother. I haven't touched an XBOX in ten days, but rust be damned. The Rock was had. The bummer, revelation time, is that my grandmother's house is home to currently our pretty sick, meaning in bad health, Rottweiler. She is looking pretty beat, and the house smells like a kennel and animal dust. I feel really bad, and the smell almost made me sick. The smell, and musk, was almost too much to bear. My poor baby puppy is all bones and squiggles. She has life still, but peace is what she demands.

The remainder of Friday night I hung out with the boys in Sloppy Pocket (http://www.myspace.com/sloppypocket) for their 4th Live show. We've been friends for a long time, and this was the first time I had seen them play out. Over 3 sets the crowd's enthusiasm came and went. It is tough to bring in idle drinkers who remained unaware they were listening to obsessive fans of blues and jazz, playing Jimi Hendrix and Django Reinhardt inspired 7 minute jams. I was impressed, no doubt and can not wait for the next.

Hanging out with Rockstars did take its toll. I didn't get into bed until about 4am on Saturday morning. I'm holding on to the fleeting memory of walking down the docks to the house boat I stayed on this past weekend with the sun's light creeping far back over the east Atlantic, making the horizon a night defeating gray yellow. While looking west to see the almost full Moon, and bright shining Jupiter, all whilst hearing the morning birds coming alive.

Saturday, my mind dragged my body out of bed for a bagel with Mom. She had already gone into town and suggested I go down to the local church which was having a thrift sale. Something about my exploring the few tables of time's relics, brought on the invitation of checking out some prints the historical society gave to the church that they intended to just toss out. I spent 25 dollars and just bought the lot. They were mostly prints of New York happenings over the past century. I picked up a Indian and Colonial land print from 1891 in beautiful, yes 1891, freaking beautiful condition, which I gave away to one of my bestest friends as probably his 3rd house warming gift. I gave another one that was for a boating event in the 70's to my Mom. That one had some dark blue colors, and strange colored text that is so unique to the era. The print I kept for myself is a flour advertisement from 1901 that I will post a picture of later. I spent 25 dollars on everything, but these pieces are incredible. All of a sudden, I'm an antique buyer...and perhaps a seller? I also picked up a more or less flawless copy of the guide to the 1939 NY World's Fair. It is only missing the front cover and has some ear marked pages, but is not yellow or damaged at all.

The rest of Saturday I spent in awe of my purchase and hung out with family and friends.

and Sunday I drove all the way back to Westchester, just to come back to NYC by train for work. Or as I like to call it, the time I use to post to my Livejournal, fart under my desk, listen to the Beach Boys and read Slaughterhouse-Five.

Lil Chickens.

Thu, 22 May 2008 05:17:52 GMT

I can not contain the happiness I have right now to escape to Long Island for 48 hours this weekend. In each consecutive visit I have relieved the stress of trying to cram a million things into one or two days. I've mostly remained localized to the family and my close knit, who I haven't seen since Easter, this being the 3rd time I have hit the Island in 2008. I love seeing anyone I can, but lately there has been a lack of motivation by both parties. If it happens, then it does. We all have our own things going on now more so than ever before. Mom asks me sometimes if there is anything new going on, and there really hasn't. It has been work and sleep, and how I spend my free time isn't worth getting into. Mom I listen to music and do whatever it is that makes me smile. Oh man I never even wrote about how I got tied up with the fuzz on Friday May 9th. This is a story I would have to tell to you face to face or over the telephone. Suffice it to say, I didn't end up in Jail and had a nice laugh with the police officers even after they found a small amount of mj in the car. It is a lucky day when NYC undercover police officers give you an illegal substance and a switchblade back and send you on your merry way without even taking down your information. For instance
Police Officer - Do you smoke?
Me - I..I..I don't know. I'm with him (gestures to friend)
Police Officer - What do you mean you don't know?
Me - I'm with him. I don't know.

I'm playing stupid in all situations like this, and I would advise the same. You want more details, I can elaborate further. That same day I saw Iron Man and was very pleased. I've also been checking out Rock Band, but my XBOX 360 is undergoing it's second repair in less than 12 months. I don't want to talk about this. whatelse?whatelse?whatelse?whatelse?whatelse?whatelse? I've read these books so far in 2008.

The Stand - Stephen King
The Jungle - Upton Sinclair
The World Without Us - Alan Weisman
Night Shift - Stephen King
Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstein
The Old Man and The Sea - Ernest Hemmingway
The Winter of Our Discontent - John Steinbeck
The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
Carrie - Stephen King
Deliverance - James Dickey
The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner
Ask The Dust - John Fante

I am currently working through Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand by Dr. Leonard Peikoff which is pretty boring so far, but I spent the money on it so I have to finish all 300+ pages of this shit. I'm like Hillary with that bitch. Even in the face of total defeat and uselessness I'll drive on with my head in the sand and my own shit all over my body...Perhaps not that extreme, but srsly. She is shitting on herself daily.

Even babies learn to stop that.

the springs.

Fri, 09 May 2008 06:29:41 GMT

week week

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 04:19:07 GMT

I'm always wondering when the next strike of inspiration will come for Live Journal. It is always on the back of my mind and I'm always plotting my next move in this game. Passing feelings and rants feel out of place here, and for what reason? For what chorus of ears and open minds are here for me? It could be calling into nothing, but it is the call none the less. The signal of life. The green smoky hope of existence.
Since my last post, I finished up Atlas Shrugged. Fantastic book and unruly at times. What can I say about it? It is about a lot of things, but mainly about the human spirit. The book has helped me focus on things once again, or at least helped me put a further perspective on things. I also read Carrie on Sunday because it was a pretty slow day at work. I'm about 80 pages or so into Deliverance now. What else what else. Nothing really you know.
I saw George Pataki on the train yesterday, so that was exciting.
everything else is growing and blooming
everything is

Wonder Twins

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 05:47:57 GMT

In case you were wondering, what is going on with Hilary and Obama is going to go on forever. Or as long as forever seems. Eventually, there is an end. Maybe it will be satisfactory. Maybe it will just end up being an overall shrug. Somebody is going to be disappointed. That is an understatement. This is happening because they need their names in the papers. They know this will dissolve public thought. They know they have lost momentum, and plan to slow life down to a grinding halt. I mean that overall. How can you wonder otherwise, when we, yes we, you and I, have announced to annihilate Iran. Does this concern anyone else? Does it even concern me? Up side? I'm not in Iran, cause I would be packing my white man hating bags and getting the hell out of Tehran if I was. Down side? I'm working about 5 minutes from World Trade. Good thing I'm jogging these days.

Bedroom window, twice in a day.

melting

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 21:23:18 GMT

I just want to keep this day in my heart forever. Perfect weather. perfect. I feel god on this Friday.

It Sucks

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 13:43:54 GMT

There may have been a time when I would have enjoyed this. But it is impossibly horrible to listen to. I gladly missed the boat on this current music trend. The trend that involves stupid derivative hair and tight pants. The artists covered on this album are all varied and different, but all the songs sound like they are being played by the same band.

Top of the morning.

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 16:48:48 GMT

Spring has arrived, in weather and heart in New York. My window is wide open right now, and the sun is slowly creeping out. The mist and fog of last night and this morning is burning off into the distance. Overall things have been going well. I'm really rocking with it out at work. My boss told me I was the model worker and if he could hire 15 of me all his troubles would go away. I don't get it though what other people are doing at work. Work to me was never social hour. I'm here for you to give me money and I want to leave. I want to feel like I earned this check. No need to sit around and glance around looking for conversations to get into all day. And I'm not even content with it. I'd rather be doing other things, so I make the best of it and work the hardest I can. That is how I've always approached work. I have a good ethic, but a piss poor choice in picking places to work that do it for me inside. Although that is going to change soon.

Last night myself and a bunch of friends went down to the LES for some Mexican and drinks. I was a little toasted and it is a long local subway six from 138th to Bleeker. The food was so delish. I had Flautas with chicken and potato and a few mixed margaritas. This meal was a joke to my empty inside, and after 2 walks around the block, I was ready for the second wind pizza. I curled up under an awning hiding from the rain, being called homeless by my loving friends. Fuck you very much. I love you. but that pizza was tasty beyond tasty. Then the jokes began. We thought that chasing down taxis with lights off would result in a ride home, but it never happened. We had to subway it all the way back local. What a night. The whole ride, I kept my eyes closed. I'm trying to keep cool on the subway. Blend in. No need to participate. I added what I could to conversations. There was a dude laying down on a seat in the car, and while riding people were taking pics with him. Of course our punishment was him getting ready to vomit in a paper bag as we pulled up to the station finally. A serendipitous moment was almost ruined as about six people, including myself ran to the door on the wrong side of the subway trying to get out. We turned around quicker, my face pressed to the glass trying to get out as this cat is sticking his fingers in his mouth. We escaped with our lives though and I hotfooted it up the steps.

The night would not have been complete without a Dunkin' Doughnuts trip though. Because it is the SouthBX I had to ask for my Doughnut through a turnstile window. Just in case lil old white guy was going to shoot up the doughnut shop. I had to settle on the jelly doughnut, not fresh. It was okay though. I should have taken a coffee with it too. I'm skipping the part of the day where I was playing soccer in my friends apartment and lifting weights and how I went to the gym earlier in the morning and how I rolled a spliff but none of that matters but you just got the bullet points.

I'm going to resurrect this doughnut trip right after I shower and shave. Have a good weekend. <3

Trace

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 06:46:50 GMT

Last nights post got me, motivated is the right way to put it, to look back the history of this journal. I'm not reading over things specifically but sometimes, I frankly sounds like an idiot. For me to say I sound brilliant the other 5% of the time...Well give me 5% of brilliance and we will call it a day. But this post is due to this specific one where I stated 2x that my current Sleepy Hollow apartment would be fucking tight and now, almost 22 whole fucking months later. Jesus 22 months. I like the sound of that though. anyway. I was right. S.I.T. I walked into this space with ideas already forming. With a plan already taking shape. I'm not sure how you think, but I'm always focusing on what is going on in front of me. How i can score a smile or two from my friends. This is why I have trouble planning for some future. I could give a shit less sometimes. I'm enjoying this moment. My friends from home will drag up shit that happened like almost 10 years ago. I want a moratorium on memories. If it didn't happen like 2 years ago, I probably forgot about it and probably doesn't matter at this point anyway. Actually the moratorium can be on memories that people like to bring up when they see me. Because we went over it once shared a laugh and you like that laugh when i sit there bored for the few moments I am missing right now cause you are trying to bullshit me with uselessness.

Tonight on the train I had to get up from my seat because my IPOD was dead, reason 1, and reason 2, I was not about to take listening to the two women in front of me discuss the following things. The first involved the unbelievability of losing a cell signal while sitting in a train in GCT on track 30 around midnight. How a conversation can bounce from, well I lost the signal, was she moving?, I don't know,maybe it was us? can you believe we get a signal under all this concrete? It was weird that you lost that signal. I'm going to write this here and know that I am eh. 80 serious. I almost lost it on them. I know i wrapped that shit up in about 3 seconds up there but it lasted for about a minute, a minute being a long time when you hear this bullshit start in front of you, and it felt like it was going to go on forever. I'm dreaming of hell now. when I'm on a tightly cramped train. My ass is broken from this poorly designed flesh mover. My Ipod is busted, I'm just about to jump back into Atlas Shrugged and I just finished a whole week of work where I was fucking sick till the end of life and I had to pack up my whole desk cause we are moving to Wall Street on Tomorrow and i just need one Vivaldi symphony to drown out this rutting. and that is what i get. useless birds wondering about something that really won't matter. just end it.

The second thing. It continues. A Bodies exhibit starts off the next one. 'I didn't look at it really like that. I just sort of tried to not think about it. If I thought about it...I...' 'I kept thinking it was models'. I'm lossing what they said to this sour plum I am eating and mental blockage, which i am EXTREMELY good at. At this point I'm sinking into an uncomfortable position. I've read the same sentence about 3 times because I can not focus on the words. I can only focus on what I am listening to. I knew I couldn't do it but I wasn't going to walk away. Then. 'Part of me still doesn't believe it is real'. Are you fucking brainless?

This is why I can't do this shit anymore sometimes. this shit meaning dealing with people. Misanthropy here I come. IT IS FUCKING BODIES. The shit is real as real as real. I bet that she believes in some fucking Jesus though. How are you going to be believe white man hocus pocus over shit you see in a museum, south street sea port, whatevs. Thousands of years of civilization and I'm stuck in this seat.

and I'm not. I unstuck my bone ass from that seat and walked away in silence. Don't think I won't get a smile out of this train though. As I walk past another set of seats, the excited wail of a baby makes me grin and open wide eyed. The mother shushes, but there is screams and hope in these kids yet.

Quickly

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 16:12:19 GMT

On Monday I felt like I was on Death's Doorstep. On Tuesday, him and I were playing chess, but after some horse sized Amoxicillin, I am feeling better. I was struck by inspiration last night while not sleeping in the bed made for sleeping. I wrote a satisfying...okay somewhat satisfying short piece. I re-read previous entries. The last one was dated 1.7.07 and it had been sometime since my last confession.

26

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 01:45:51 GMT

Yesterday I turned 26. 25 is a wonderful midpoint number, now is a good time to kick off a 5 year plan. Shit a rest of my life plan. Yes, now would be a good time dumbass. It was an enjoyable birthday, if not a bit casual. I'm keeping a cap on celebration for the next 24 hours and plan on doing it right tomorrow. Yesterday though, just worked, learned I didn't get a day off I requested a month ago due to some stupid reason. This has just cemented my goals and my ideas and what I want to do. Heidi told me I was better than this, better than this job. That is the feedback I need. I'm not going to say I didn't think that myself, but when other people tell that to you, it means more. It helps more. Who knows what people consider you, until they tell you? So I'm happy that she did. I've also struck a deal with meryl that I won't be an asshole for a whole year. This is impossible because I am good at being an asshole. I just don't have that filter between my brain and my mouth. It just flows from entrance to exit. But I'll work on it. I'll do whatever it takes to not be an asshole, or at least less of one, even though my asshole quotient is on the way down. This one if for the kids.

Oh and since Easter has passed, I guess we can recap my 40 days/40 nights of giving up the three M's. It didn't last, and this was expected. I held strong for a week! I probably only ate non-poultry based meat 3 times between those 40 days, so that is impressive? Maybe not. I can't really mess with it. Now the MJ and the..um other one...well it was not daily. I'd say...well lets be modest. I'd say it was a typical amount. every other day and every other weekend. You take a pick which one is what. You are probably right. I'm too shy to come out and say it!

Since we last spoke

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 07:09:41 GMT

Easter on Long Island 2008 was great. Really great. I drove home Thursday night after working in the morning. I suffered through a pretty useless meaning on listening skills before I started my trek. A year after working at my company we spent a whole hour getting into better skills at listening. It is kind of like those useless lectures you would have in class when you just sit there trying to gain something positive from it. But in the end you are just suffering and making jokes in your head and thinking about how hot the girl is that sits next to you. Before you know it you broke her heart and because you didn't pay attention to what you were doing. You realize you could used some listening skills as you throw your bones off a bridge.

Ah yes 10 to 3am. Things get loopy. So one has a boring meeting at work, one must make it up with an unboring evening in the stomping grounds of their youth. 3 bars on 3 separate nights, getting progressively more east with each passing night. By Saturday I ended up shaking outside a bar about 20 minutes away from Montauk Point. Between Thursday night and that Saturday night I caught up with old friends, old loves, and the occasional I remember your face but I can't remember your name or anything about you. There was also much puppy loving taking place. I didn't catch any photos of the 3 month old brindle Pit Bull I was snuggling and falling in love with, lovingly named Hades, but I did get a little more love in with Caution my brother's Pit Bull who is currently gracing this Livejournal cover and the below photos. Everything was positive and steady and calming being back on Long Island. I can't wait for the summer where I can sit on the boat all day soaking up the vitamin D and floating away.

Also books read this year!
The Stand - Stephen King
The Jungle - Upton Sinclair
The World Without Us - Alan Weisman
Night Shift - Stephen King
Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstein
The Old Man and The Sea - Ernest Hemmingway
The Winter of Our Discontent - John Steinbeck
The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

I am about to dive into Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I have read about 30 pages and I imagine I'll have read about 300 by Saturday.

Birthday THURSDAAAAAAAAY!

Aye!

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 04:33:52 GMT

Fire
2007 release of the passionate but suave Mod-Soul collaboration from the lovely and talented vocalist Nicole Willis and celebrated Finnish Funk collective The Soul Investigators. In the cold far North dance underground, they have created a uniquely hot record of romantic grooves! The Brooklyn-born Willis has worked with both Curtis Mayfield and the Brand New Heavies and done crucial work for Mo’ Wax, while the Finnish-bred Soul Investigators have crafted two previous full-lengths.Fans of Amy Winehouse and Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings will find much to love on Keep Reachin’ Up. Adored by the UK’s Northern Soul DJs and fans, international momentum for the full-length has been primed by a BBC Top Ten Track of the Year list for 'If This Ain’t Love' and world famous DJ Gilles Peterson making opening track 'Feeling Free' the 2006Worldwide Winner Song of the Year. MOJO and Record Collector gave the Finnish edition four stars and Dusty Groove called it an ''instant classic."

mo' grooves
With songs that could fit equally on pop radio as they could R&B(though there is little difference between the two by this point),young singer Kevin Michael Seward does his best Michael Jackson-meets-Prince-meets-Justin Timberlake(hardly a stretch) impression on his debut self-titled full-length. The results aren't wholly imaginative or unique, but Kevin Michael has a good enough voice, and a good enough production staff and group of writers behind him, to sound competent, even fun. As part of Downtown Records' -- home of genre-benders Gnarls Barkley-- Kevin Michael is clearly being marketed as the next big pop star,able to win the hearts of fans of all races and ages, and he may very well succeed. If this occurs, however, it will only be because of hi sability to sound so much like his predecessors, and not because of anything new he's created. Which means, of course, based on the deserved success of both the Purple One and the King of Pop (and JT, to a lesser extent), there's some pretty fun stuff on Kevin Michael. The lead off track and first single, "We All Want the Same Thing," which features a decent verse from crossover rapper Lupe Fiasco,is great, catchy and fun, mixing bluesy acoustic guitar with keys and soulful vocals. "All my gangsta friends, and all my skater friends/They all want the same thing," Seward sings, the cadence in his voice making it easy to believe that in fact he is familiar with both groups, that he's singing these lines from direct experience. "Stone Cold Killa," a pretty obvious nod to MJ,is smooth and upbeat, club-remix-ready without sounding forced, and "Ha Ha Ha," the sparse, sexual, R&B cut, comes across as somehow appropriate, unlike some of the other "love" songs, which were clearly created by older, more mature writers. But because Kevin Michael isn't quite able to carve out his own niche, despite his best attempts, the album also gets a bit repetitive and even corny at times, trying so hard to appeal to a diverse audience that it -- and by dint of that the artist -- loses a bit of its individuality. "Vicki Secrets," "Ghost,"and "Love Letter" are all generic contemporary R&B tracks,indistinguishable from most of what else is out there, and the good bits can get lost between the production and falsettoed harmonies.Which is too bad, because Seward has talent, a talent that definitely appears on the album, and perhaps enough of it to put him where he and his label want. But until his vision of himself is a little stronger,he won't quite be able to separate himself from the crowd, and won't be able to break out quite as he'd like to.

GREAT
Before The Warning,Hot Chip was poppy, but not exactly pop; their songs had clever ideas,but were missing the pieces they needed to really make an impact. The Warning brought those pieces together with a satisfying click, making the band's music immediate as well as pleasingly off-kilter. Made in the Dark isn't quite as big a leap forward as The Warningwas, but it doesn't need to be -- Hot Chip has already hit their stride, and now their pop machinery chugs along at full speed. Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard's dry wit is illuminated by neon melodies and punctuated by attention-getting beats, as it was on The Warning,but that album had clear-cut singles, including "Over and Over" and"And I Was a Boy from School." Here, it's wonderfully unclear which songs are the A-sides, aside from the brilliant lead single, "Ready for the Floor," which was the first clue that Made in the Dark was going to be something special. It builds from a rubber band bassline,piling nervy guitars, synths that sound like they were borrowed from Taco's "Puttin' on the Ritz" or Matthew Wilder's"Break My Stride," and a cheery yet bittersweet melody into a perfect fusion of pop and dance that is definitely ready for the floor. The rest of Made in the Dark boasts some of Hot Chip's most kinetic music, with rhythms and melodies that are just as hyper-articulate as the wordplay: it takes a special kind of perverse wit to name one ofthe album's most head-noddingly insistent songs "Don't Dance.""Bendable Poseable," on the other hand, is exactly as wiggly as the title implies, and its ragga-tinged spoken word bits show that Hot Chip's sound is more than bendable enough to accommodate almost any styles or influences that Taylor and Goddard want to fit into it.

Made in the Dark expands Hot Chip's emotional range as much as their musical range, swinging from the funky, pissed-off "Shake a Fist"to the stream-of-consciousness pop of "One Pure Thought," a witty,wordy gem that comes across like Paul McCartney backed by New Order. Made in the Dark's main weakness might be its ballads, but that may just be in comparison to its many energetic moments, which are so addictive that it feels like a forced come-down whenever the band slows things down. On their own terms, however, "We're Looking for a Lot of Love" is luminously sad, and the title track's heartfelt simplicity and restraint is impressive. And while "Whistle for Will" and "In the Privacy of Our Love" end the album on a strangely sleepy note, their awkwardness might make them a little sweeter precisely because they're not slick. Without these ballads, Made in the Dark would have the ruthless perfection of a greatest-hits collection; as it is, it's just a very,very good album. Hot Chip has honed their skills so much and so quickly that they're almost unrecognizable from the band that made Coming on Strongjust three years before. They're still a quirky band, no doubt, but now they're using those quirks to make their most accomplished album to date.

Sex record
Atom Heart Mother,for all its glories, was an acquired taste, and Pink Floyd wisely decided to trim back its orchestral excesses for its follow-up, Meddle. Opening with a deliberately surging "One of These Days," Meddlespends most of its time with sonic textures and elongated compositions,most notably on its epic closer, "Echoes." If there aren't pop songs in the classic sense (even on the level of the group's contributions to Ummagumma),there is a uniform tone, ranging from the pastoral "A Pillow of Winds"to "Fearless," with its insistent refrain hinting at latter-day Floyd.Pink Floyd were nothing if not masters of texture, and Meddle is one of their greatest excursions into little details, pointing the way to the measured brilliance of Dark Side of the Moon and the entire Roger Waters era. Here, David Gilmourexerts a slightly larger influence, at least based on lead vocals, but it's not all sweetness and light -- even if its lilting rhythms are welcome, "San Tropez" feels out of place with the rest of Meddle.Still, the album is one of the Floyd's most consistent explorations of mood, especially from their time at Harvest, and it stands as the strongest record they released between Syd's departure and Dark Side.

Sweets
Morr Music has made itself quite an individual reputation for a labe lthat has thus far failed to come up with much of a coherent sound. Or maybe it's the fact that the "Morr sound" is inherently subdued,bordering on nondescript, which is not at all a bad thing. A simple combination of electronic textures and pop sensibilities has found more than its fair share of space in the daily routine of music listeners.But in the case of Morr's newest signing, Dieter Sermeus,the apple has fallen too close to the tree. The explanation is an easy one. This Belgian artist has close ties to Morr producer Styrofoam, who worked extensively with the younger Sermeuson his first album, shaping him into a striking image of himself --albeit with a vocal sensibility that the tutor himself does not possess. To put it simply, fans of Morr Music's first 46 catalog numbers will easily welcome MM 047. And if you haven't treated yourself to the full-mouth grin that Morr's style can evoke, now is a good time to start.

Beats!
Following up her excellent 2002 debut, Sharon Jones stays true to the formula she laid down on her early releases and Dap Dippin'by presenting another session of full-force funk that pays homage to the genre's glory years without coming off as contrived. The deep funk revival continues with Jones belting out commanding vocal performances that are uncompromisingly forceful yet full of rich, soulful emotion.It's a session worthy of being found in any beat-miner's record collection and any funk enthusiast's basket of obscurities and rarities. Her cover of "This Land Is Your Land" is equally as impressive, as she somehow takes the song from being an American folk standard and turns it into a full-on sonic explosion. Fans of her earlier work will no doubt find great joy in this follow-up, and those seeking Jones out for the first time certainly will not be disappointed in what they find.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/jmhakr
From the opening blast of overdriven guitars and hyper kinetic drums it's apparent A Place To Bury Strangers, self-described "loudest band in New York", want to pummel you into submission with their unique take on white-noise-derived guitar splendor, but then a hypnotic single string riff takes over to briefly deliver a respite from the assault,recalling the classic era of shoe gaze. The swirling atmosphere of guitar feedback and reverb-drenched vocals immediately bring to mind the most obvious comparison: vintage Jesus and Mary Chain. And while the Mary Chain circa Psychocandy evoked The Beach Boys on bad acid or the The Shirellesgigging poolside at the Manson family compound, A Place To Bury Strangers also evoke a host of noisy early 90's British bands like My Bloody Valentine, Swervedriver, Ride, Chapterhouse, Pale Saints and The Catherine Wheelwithout sounding exactly like any of them. These bands knew how tocloak their essentially straightforward and anthemic rock songs in layers upon layers of guitar effects to lend an air of psychedelia and psychosis to what without that noisy dressing would strip down tocandy-coated pop confections. And what A Place To Bury Strangers indeed does is write pop songs, with simple, traditional arrangements,primarily in slightly menacing minor keys, and saturated with their ownunique brand of sonic mayhem. This is facilitated by the fact thattheir guitarist/singer designs his own effects pedals at his day job,allowing for a trademark-able and wide variety of signature bombastic sounds (he also does custom work for illustrious members of othersimilarly-minded space rockers). Many songs, like the obvious single To Fix The Gash In Your Head, feature a pile-driving drum machine enhancement which adds to the multiple layers and recalls a time whendark dream pop (Curve, Slowdive, The Telescopes) and dancefloor-friendly goth rock (Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, early New Order)were club mainstays. And aside from the lone doom-laden ballad The Falling Sun, these songs are actually danceable. Or perhaps moshable,at the proper volume. The majority of the album keeps up the frenetic onslaught with which it opens, and even amongst the caustic thrash and thick slabs of sonic detritus there is an exhilaration, a catharsis, abeauty in the cacophony, and the listener is happily buried in the ear-splitting bliss. Many albums' liner notes suggest the listener should PLAY THIS LOUD, but in this case it's never been more essential.

Guns Fever.

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 06:39:31 GMT

Zing.
As expected, the band--Yoni Wolf, Josiah Wolf, Doug McDiarmid--continues its calculated blitzkrieg on that self-made jangle-rap, indie pop 'n' roll genre, but the stakes are raised. The boys returned to their Midwest roots for Alopecia, hunkering down in Minneapolis's Third Ear studio and inducting a pair of venerable bigguns into the band: Fog mastermind Andrew Broder and bassist Mark"Bear" Erickson. Throwing their samplers to the wind (mostly), Why?recorded live as a five-piece. By the time the core trio returned to Oakland (where Thee More Shallows' D. Kessler engineered a final session), they'd amassed their most immediate and cohesive batch of songs to date.

Smooth
As down tempo goes, Jaffa's debut Elevator is light and airy in the extreme. Instead of urban paranoia or meditations on fashion, Jaffa opts for warm, rounded keyboard textures and punchy mid tempo beats. The title track glides by on fat Hammond organ chords, samples of children playing and crisp drum programming, the perfect soundtrack for a sunn yday in the park. The title of "Sneakin'" could refer to the fact that the beat was filched from Massive Attack's"Blue Lines," but Jaffa uses the groove in a context closer to acid jazz than hip-hop. The inclusion of a vocal version of "Sneakin'," with the words from the standard "God Bless The Child" added, was a mistake,as was the "Cookie Puss"-style phone prank that dominates "Star 67,"ruining an otherwise interesting track. These gaffes aside, Elevator makes for pleasant, if somewhat inconsequential, listen.

All right.
Arriving several months before Nirvana's Nevermind, the Smashing Pumpkins' debut album, Gish, which was also produced by Butch Vig, was the first shot of the alternative revolution that transformed the rock & roll landscape of the '90s. While Nirvana was a punk band, the Smashing Pumpkins and guitarist/vocalist Billy Corganare arena rockers, co-opting their metallic riffs and epic art rock song structures with self-absorbed lyrical confessions. Though Corgan's lyrics fall apart upon close analysis, there's no denying his gift for arrangements. Like Brian May and Jimmy Page, he knows how to layer guitars for maximum effect, whether it's on the pounding, sub-Sabbathrush of "I Am One" or the shimmering, psychedelic dream pop surfaces of"Rhinoceros." Such musical moments like these, as well as the rushing"Siva" and the folky "Daydream," which features D'Arcy on lead vocals, demonstrate the Smashing Pumpkins' potential, but the rest of Gish falls prey to undistinguished songwriting and showy instrumentation.

a best
Around the turn of the millennium -- just after the release of Blur's moody sixth album, 13 -- Damon Albarnbegan to quietly back away from the very concept of fronting a rock band, turning his attention to a series of collaborative projects that soon overshadowed his main gig. First there was the electro-bubblegum group Gorillaz, which afforded Albarnthe opportunity to masquerade behind a cartoon, a move that allowed him to let his music speak louder than his fame, a method that he found irresistible as he began to do several projects similar to this,including a voyage to Africa documented on Mali Music, along with other less-publicized forays into soundtracks. In this context, the post-Graham Coxon Blur albumThink Tank seemed less like a band effort than another conceptual project directed by Albarninstead of the work of a band, which is what all these new-millennium projects were at their core, including the Good, the Bad & the Queen, a quartet comprised of himself, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, Verve guitarist Simon Tong, and Tony Allen, Fela Kuti's drummer, who was name-checked in Blur's "Music Is My Radar," and whose eponymous 2007 album is produced by Danger Mouse, who previously collaborated with Albarn on Gorillaz's second album, 2005's Demon Days. A flurry of pre-release activity compared The Good, the Bad & the Queen to Blur's 1994 masterpiece Parklife, as it represents a conscious return to Albarnwriting songs specifically about London at a particular point in time.Thematically accurate though this may be, it is also misleading,suggesting that Albarn is also returning to the bright, colorful, clever guitar pop that made his reputation -- something akin to Coxon's reclamation of that sound on his excellent recent solo albums, Happiness in Magazines and Love Travels at Illegal Speeds. That couldn't be farther from the truth, as The Good, the Bad & the Queen is deliberately drained of color and mired in moodiness. If Parklifeexuberantly captured the giddiness of the mid-'90s, as fashions and politics changed, ushering in New Labor, Britpop, and new lad culture, The Good, the Bad & the Queencaptures how all that optimism has calcified into weary cynicism, as the endless opportunities of the '90s have given way to a warring world that seems to lack any center or certainty. So, in that sense, it is a cousin to Parklife in how it captures a national mood, but in sheer sonic terms, the closet antecedent of Albarn's is Demon Days, which traced out an apocalyptic vision despite its insistent pop hooks. Which isn't to say that The Good, the Bad & the Queen is a Gorillaz album in disguise, nor should Simonon's presence suggest that this is the second coming of London Calling; if anything, GBQ suggest the Specials at their most haunted, which is hardly uncharacteristic of Damon, who has always used "Ghost Town" as a blueprint whenever he's wanted to get spooky.

Despite these echoes of the past -- and there are other echoes, too, arriving in Simonon's thundering dub bass, Tong's spectral guitars, Allen's nimble rhythms, and Albarn's vaudevillian piano and carnivalesque organ -- The Good, the Bad & the Queenis most certainly its own distinctive thing, the product of five iconoclastic musicians working a theme endlessly, relentlessly, and inventively, producing music that plays more like a movie than an album. Early on, as "History Song" eases into view on a circular acoustic guitar phrase, it establishes an alluring, dank, and artfully dour mood that the band continually expands and explores without ever letting the gloom lift. But for as dark as this is, GBQ never sounds despairing -- it's wearily resigned, as Albarnand his band mates prefer to luxuriously wallow in the murk instead of finding a way out of it. There's a comfort in its melancholy,particularly in how the album glides from one elegantly doleful song to another, but at times the album almost sounds too samey, with no individual song emerging from the whole. Part of the reason for this isDanger Mouse's production: it's as subtle and clever as ever, but built largely in the post-production -- to the extent that he'll mix out Allenfor large stretches of the album just for the aural effect. He's orchestrated a unified, dramatic album -- it's a tapestry of impeccable, sorrowful, yet sultry soundscapes -- but given the pedigree of this band, it's hard not to wish that the album offered more of the quartet just playing, gussied up with no effect. Nevertheless, as an album The Good, the Bad & the Queen is singularly effective, bringing the roiling melancholy undercurrent of Demon Days to the surface and creating a murky, mud-streaked impressionistic rock noir that's sinisterly seductive in its gloom.

Fans.
A 8-piece live band, The Black Seeds produce a unique blend of funk,reggae, soul and dub that has set dance floors alight in New Zealand and Australia. Having well and truly conquered their home country with atop selling debut album and several years of extensive and enormously successful New Zealand touring, Wellington-based reggae/soul/funk/dub band The Black Seeds have set their sights on the world.

burning
Having Toured These Shores a Number of Times Now New Zealand's Dub Champions the Black Seeds Follow on from the Debut Album "Keep on Pushing" with the Release of "on the Sun". The Band Will Then Complete a Nationwide Australian Release Tour in November 2005. On the Sun Has Sold in Excess of 23,000 Units in New Zealand Since Release in 2004 andis Well on Its Way to Reaching Double Platinum Sales. An 8-piece Band,the Black Seeds Are Renowned as One of New Zealand's Hottest Live Acts,Following in the Footsteps of Salmonella Dub.