Isn't It funny?

Life?


I'm settling into my new place in Arlington. I'm house-sitting for Mad Mike, my old boss at the comwboy show and the bass player in my old band. He's off to Atlanta to do a pirate show, and wanted me to come with, but instead, I declined and choose to house sit in his stead.

I'm finding that I'm not great with change. As much as I implement it into my life, once I'm used to something, I have issues adjusting. I'm really kinda down right now. Eh, ehatever. I don't have the time or the pateience to be depressed, especially over little shit.


Moving on.

Tonight I'll be at The Decemberists at Trees. You should come. They are wonderful. Actually I'll be at some girl named Kelly's birthday party thing at The Galxay Club, then to Trees for the Decemberists . . .

I've actually had a great week . . . I'm just tired. And in a new house. And have to work at 6 AM.

DECEMBERISTS!! TONIGHT!! COME PLAY!!!

Now

I never know how to start these things . . . .

Maybe I just need to write a book . . . .

I just don’t understand why I’m always looking for something greater . . .
Why can’t I find contentment within the simple things?
Why am I so fucking dramatic?

My right now is "Someday it will be better, but that's no good to us now. Oh we can do so much better, just leave us alone to let us to try to think about nothing." (Shout Out Louds)

Only me . . .

hope·less adj.
1. Having no hope; despairing.
2. Offering no hope; bleak.
3. Incurable.
4. Having no possibility of solution; impossible.

ro·man·tic adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of romance.
2. Given to thoughts or feelings of romance.
3. Displaying, expressive of, or conducive to love: a romantic atmosphere.
4. Imaginative but impractical; visionary: romantic notions.
5. Not based on fact; imaginary or fictitious: His memoirs were criticized as a romantic view of the past.
n.

Hopeless Romantic is basically an incurable impracticality.

You search for perfection . . . You strive for something greater than yourself, although you have no earthly idea of what that can be . . . You wander through this world, blind as a newborn, and you rest on this, you rest on your blind hope that something will happen sometime that means something. You look for meaning in the smallest of things. The pace of breath, the emphasis on a syllable, the accidental touch of a shoulder, or the brush of a hair . . . But mostly you look into someone’s eyes, and hope you see a soul. You start having thoughts about what you see inside someone, and you begin to manifest reason. You create a delusion that can only possibly exist in a mind like yours. You take the attainable, and make it unattainable. You force things into a person that may or may not be there and regardless of reality, you cling to those until you are removed by force. You search for perfection and you see it across a room. You notice the way it moves. You hear the words from its mouth. You see the ease it walks with. You see the way it attaches to others and see the happiness over come them . . .You realize that it is not perfection you have discovered, but rather intrigue. You are completely enthralled by the appearance of perfection that you have forced on top or her. Perfection would almost ruin you at this point, because you are holding on to the belief that perfection is unattainable. But this . . . This is not unattainable. You see the motions, you hear her sweet slight accent, you see the smile and you can’t look away. Your heart is tearing itself into a thousand pieces and you can’t look away. Something takes over . . And you can’t look away. You are told “I believe you are smitten.” You respond “No just intrigued. There would have to be a remote chance of anything beyond the solitary existence of tonight.” Scratch that. You respond “No, just intrigued.” And it begins . . . You become a freight train. You can’t stop until you reach a conclusion. Whether it means being derailed, whether is means reaching a happy conclusion, or whether its having a sudden reason to stop, hitting the brakes, and then realizing that regardless of wishes or intentions, you can‘t stop it.

I'm trying . . . I'm sorry

I finally have a consistant internet connection!!!!

This should be more often now . . .

Lincoln Center

I just got accepted into the Lincoln Center Director's Lab for 2005.

This is not something I was expecting, but I'm happier than you can ever imagine.

This is a huge deal for me . . .

check it out if you want to.

Here.

SXSW

Here is my review of SXSW

The hipsters are right . . . belive the hype.

Bloc Party is amazing. This is going to be the next big thing . . . they have everything you need to make it in rock . . . great beats, hella cool vocals, beautiful driving music, and a black lead singer with a heavy south leeds accent. Listen to "The Answer"


Kaiser Cheifs are pretty great themselves . . . they sound like the CD but I think they have room to grow . . . listen to "Oh my God"

Kasabian put on the best show of the festival, for me anyhow . . . I had never heard this band, and they blew my mind . . . Very big rock. They put on a stadium show in a smallish venue. Greatness!! Listen to "Club Foot"

Shout Out Louds . . . they are very cool. They are kinda southern rockish/alt-country with a bit of electronica . . . they are from Stockholm. I dig them. Listen to "But Then Again No"

Death From Above 1979 . . . HARDCORE. This is one of the coolest shows I saw. Jst a drummer and a bass player . . . fucking hardcore and badass . . . made me want beat the hell out of a 19 year old metal kid in a mosh pit . . . that hasn't happened in a while . . . Listen to "Romantic Rights"


Otherthan that I met Elijah Wood and asked him "What news from the Shire?"
He gave me a dirty look.

SXSW was amazing . . . I'll go inot more later . . . hopefully . . .

Whatever pt. 9

So I sit here in front of this computer, sitting in the dark, excluding the soft glow of the screen in front of. I hear Tom York speak of God and whatnot in the background. I never really thought I would do this, but I guess once you hit the ripe old age of 25 and realize that you are yet to have obtained a degree, gotten a “real” job, or really accepted any responsibility whatsoever . . . Things just kinda start to come out. So here it is . . . I’m 25. I’m half white, half Mexican. Well, I’m not really half and half. I’m actually approximately a third French, around a third Mexican, which is mostly Mestizo, (Spanish and Mexican Indian) about a fourth Irish and German, and I think there’s even some Scottish, Welsh, and Belgian in there . . . I don’t know, my Dad’s a mutt . . . But for all intents and purposes, I’m a half bred. You know, it’s incredibly interesting growing up in this state of consciousness, since I was raise in Northside until I was about 7, then I was whisked off like some damsel in distress, and placed promptly in the middle of the suburbs. So, essentially, while all my previous friends were playing with guns and joining gangs, I was learning the joy that is Super Target, and wondering why there were so many minivans all over the place. Needless to say, it was quite the intellectual alteration. My mindset was abruptly distorted, but it was okay, cause I was now going to “good schools.”

Have you ever tried so hard to find the intricacies in life that others seemingly avoid that you miss the obvious ones right in front of your face? I find myself always looking for the little things and taking pleasure in finding things about art and life and anything for that matter that other people miss . . . My only problem is that I lose sight of the big picture in hopes to perfect the small one. I wish I could just step out of my life an look at everything I am doing completely objectively . . . I think I’m a hell of a director, but as far as acting goes, I’m incredibly unsure. If I could only direct my life, and not have to star in it, I’d be set. It’s kinda like those infamous timeouts you would take as a kid. It never mattered what you were doing, you could take a timeout, and reevaluated the situation . . .I need a timeout so bad right now . . .

I’m scared to death of not leaving a legacy. For most people, it’s children. For others it wealth . . . . For me . . . It’s knowledge. I want to make people think about things they have never thought about before . . . I want people to see my work and not be able to sleep at night, or sleep better than they ever have in their lives, and they could both have seen the same thing.

Then you sit back and you read the shit that vomitted one day, and feel like the most egotistical fuck that you know. I want to make people think? What the fuck does that do? Thinking is over rated, and rarely accomplishies anything.

Vomit

Time to vomit again. I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now because I have this incredible girl sleeping in my bed right beside me, and somehow I feel myself pulling away. I’ve always been a little scared of commitment, but simultaneously, I find that I fall in love faster than anyone I know. I’m always seeking the “one,” and that really annoys the hell out of my friends. All they want to do is to go out with me and have a good time. See, I’m just about the friendliest guys you’ll ever meet, and because of this, I tend to do very well with the initial conversation aspect of the game. Actually, I’d say that I ‘m great from rounds 2 through 9 or so. I am AWFUL in round one, and I have no finish. So basically, if I do manage to come through round one, which I count as the initial contact moment, then I’m awesome.