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Bullet Points in the Program of Summer’s Funeral

September 24th, 2008
  • I feel my life slipping away into a mixture of interior latex paint, gasoline and Papa John’s Special Garlic Sauce.
  • John Frusciante’s “Untitled #12″ from Niandra LaDes is the greatest surrealist-psychedelic-lyric noise-rock track ever recorded.
  • Cicadas, Raccoons, Deer Xings, Grasshoppers.
  • I see 6 cinder blocks and 22 8′ Pine 1×4s and I want them painted black.
  • Mental rehearsal: Score, fold, staple, fold, fold, press, fold, insert, press, fold, press.
  • David DeYampert Jr. is back.
  • I’m writing songs in my dreams to play sped up backwards rewinding the tape.
  • I need a turntable because it’s been so long since I listened to my Storm + Stress record.

“I’m a bit confused to meet you.  Life’s what scissors do to a day.”


I hate myself and I don’t know why

August 23rd, 2008

I’m back from Chicago, and I just realized what I was doing: delaying a major tantrum.  On the bus I was looking forward to getting back into my own life, finding a job, marketing my CD, recording music, trying to make friends, etc.  It didn’t take long for that to die.

I despise everything around me.  My environment is filled with reminders of failures or far-fetched fantasy (such as the fantasy of a life outside of the working-class nickel-and-dime world I was raised to be a part of.)  My head wanders into these places and I can’t stop it and it scares me.   I was weaving in and out of traffic tonight at 45 mph down Franklin before punching a big crack into my windsheild.  There’s something wrong with me and I thought a couple of days taking a break would fix it, but no.

Now I don’t know what to do.  I won’t be able to sleep.  I don’t want to go walk around.  Fuck it.  What does it matter.  The fact that I think I have any control over anything is part of the problem.  Let things be and if the darkness swallows me then that’s my lot in life.  Either way, I need to be done worrying for myself.  I wish I could convince myself of this so I would know where to go.


July 25th, 2008

Follow any path as far as you can take it and you always end up in the same place: in the dark. Everything looks the same in the dark. If you’re unwilling to except that, then you make stuff up. You pull whats buried inside and project it into the darkness to try and make sense of it. One thing you don’t want to do is invite the darkness inside. I wish I could put it away, turn it off, and save it for later. I’m always walking into the dark, and that’s fine. But what I need to do is stop believing that the things I see in the dark are real.


Bullet Points for this Evening’s Meeting with Life

July 24th, 2008
  • I’m unwilling to let go of myself for others and I’m also unwilling to let go of my need for the world outside myself. There’s a balance often struck, but every road I take to find it leads to me having to choose.
  • I used to look out at the city and see a vast sea of possibility. Tonight I looked off a highway footbridge and saw a vast wasteland of human potential, and I shouted “fucking trash city!” at the pavement, but no one was there to hear me.
  • There’s nothing keeping me here, but nothing forcing me to leave. My entire life is a default, and can be summed up with the phrase, “for lack of a better reason…” I’m in Minneapolis for the same reason why I’m alive: it’s what was granted me and I haven’t had the balls to change it.
  • I walked into an alley tonight, drifting towards the skyline, and I was confronted with a fence. Instead of walking all the way back, I chose to jump the fence. As the nearly empty flask of whiskey + vermouth in my back pocket could have predicted, it was not a good idea. Acrobatics aside, the bottle did not break and I left Stevens Square laughing.
  • I keep telling myself that I have a CD to finish, and when it’s done I can move on with my life. It’s the only thing keeping me going. The last time I had this much of myself riding on a creative project, it wasn’t pretty, and I topped off my 22nd birthday by collapsing in someone else’s yard in the pouring rain, convinced that I had just wasted 22 years. I’m really afraid that in September I might get to the point where I’m convinced that I just wasted 30.

I’m so god damn sick of keys…

July 22nd, 2008

…among other things. I have one set of keys I keep with me all the time, then another set I keep in my car to get into all the places I need to go at work. Then there’s another mess of keys at work that are hidden in one of the apartments, plus another hidden in the attic. On top of that, today I had to drive out to Roseville and get a key from a combination box so I could get into my parents house to get three other keys that I had to bring back to St. Paul, show an apartment, go get the big ring of keys that are hid in the apartment, put one key on the ring and then go hide the other two in a different apartment in a different building. None of the keys are clearly labeled either. They’re all in code.

After all that I drove back out to Roseville because I realized I forgot to lock the garage. I ran out of gas on the way back and had to walk 10 blocks to SA to buy a gas can. What the fuck?

Unrelated, I agreed to play a show on Friday that was supposed to be at Intermedia Arts. After I agreed to it, it got moved, first to a cafe in Minneapolis, then to a cafe in St. Paul, and now it’s at a vacant house in St. Paul. And there’s probably not much of a sound system. I’m not in a very good mood today. As soon as I’m done mixing this record I’m going out to look for a nice, easy, low-paying job.


Zinefest!

July 10th, 2008

I helped to found it, ran it near-solo for two years, and then ran away.  And now it’s better than ever!  I even heard it’s full.  I’ll be tabling at the fest and performing at the afterparty at the Pocketknife.  Come say hi.

www.zinefest.org


The PROKIEV CDR Box Set in progress

July 8th, 2008

I’m getting this project ready for the zinefest this weekend: 10 CDRs released between 2000 and 2006 packaged using beer cases. I’m selling them for $30.

Prokiev Box Set
I got this idea from looking at info about how to glue the binding on acoustic guitars. I cover the necessary areas with PVA bookbinding glue and wrap the whole thing in one long piece of picture-hanging wire. Inside is 11 CD cases all taped together. I used 11 because I wanted room for the zine that goes with it and just to ensure that it won’t be too tight.

Prokiev Box Set
Finished box set with a sticker on the front.


I went out tonight.

July 6th, 2008

One of the big root causes of my depression is that I value life too much.  With all the possibilities and complexities, I’m disappointed in myself for not doing more with it, disappointed with others for perpetuating easy terrain, and disappointed with the world for degrading hope in favor of destruction and preserving the power of an elite segment of society.  It all seems really silly, half the shit we worry about, when put into the context of the absolute inevitable.  Death.

Possibility dissolves in death.   Suicide prevents possibilities worse then death.  To me, there are none.  Suffering is still experience and thus life.  The more I understand my role in the world, the more I realize how much I’m going to have to fight to fulfill it, and the further time goes on, the more tired I get.  That’s how the fantasy perpetuates itself.  If you reward fantastic thinking, realists become outsiders, and it doesn’t matter if anyone is right or wrong, only who follows.  Then you see how a flawed society can grow cancerous.  Were there such a thing as a collective consciousness, which there isn’t, we would stop to diagnose the cancer and remove it.  But society is not the sum of its parts, rather it is its average.  My difference to the world is canceled out by someone else’s, making it impossible to make any impression deep enough for me to sustain my own existence on my own terms.  But it’s the fact that my experience is my own, beginning and ending with the blood flowing into my brain, that makes it worth it.  It’s not a happy thought for me to think that that’s all that’s keeping me alive.


Blackout

June 30th, 2008

It’s very satisfying to photocopy a map in negative and black out all the words.


I don’t know why I made this an ordered list…

June 26th, 2008
  1. I just sanded all the primer off of the Jackson. I think it took longer to sand off the new primer than the old paint. What happened was a friend of mine mentioned “sandable primer” at a party last weekend. Here I thought all primer was sandable. Back to the interwebs for more research. Until then, maybe I’ll buy a bridge for it and string it up just for fun. I also think I’ll be buying a router soon.
  2. Those body shapes I laminated are going to be my “practice” body. It’ll take more work to sand the sides down than it would to route a new body from a 13×17″ blank. I just glued one now.
  3. I’m never going to finish these projects.
  4. I’m going to Milwaukee for their Zinefest in July, a week after our Zinefest. I think I’m performing there. Richmond is October 11, and I’ll be hitting that one too if all goes as planned.
  5. I need to start recording again. I hit sort of a weird mood earlier this week and found myself on Tuesday night retreating into the fields of Northfield at 2am to look at the stars and regroup. I got bit up by bugs and headed home, stopping for a half hour at a wayside rest to play guitar. I decided that I already got what I needed from those experiences when I was 19 or 20, and that I need to ditch my habits of solitude and venture into the world of people.
  6. I want to spend the 4th on my roof.