My news goes from oldest to newest. That way you don't trip up on something you're not supposed to before you are.

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02.23.02

No News is New News

I'm sitting around drinking up to the circumstances. I realize that I had fallen into the wonderful arms of ill-logic and fooled myself into contentment. Or have I? There's no absolute life-ending dread, no ground-scraping moping, no asinine detachment from reality - so what's the deal? I fidget on the bus to the point of confused eye-watering wishing to be home and drinking myself into a box and for what? For something I only invested in with emotional caution? I can't believe it - had it not been for the beer I'd be searching online for moving guides to another state right now. Even amidst the most sickening reason I can be hopelessly ridiculous.

No news would have been better news, but time would wallop quite a surprise on the stability factor. Will someone please humor the fool?!

I want to forget about you so much so that I walk with thunder in each step and every whim is caught and strangled to the ground.

Disclaimer:

In no way is this to promote nor condone the instance of feeling sorry for oneself - it is pathetic, desperate and held in high disregard.

03.17.02

Old News is No News

Sometime past midnight...

I'm drunk. I wonder to myself about very heavy thoughts. What lets me consider myself a good man? Can I really set aside my jealousy and hope the best for her? Do I consider this guy a replacement for me? Who can say... I shouldn't even be saying any of this in my state...

She makes her own decisions, and I'm not the only thing she has to think about.

I just wish to hell I hadn't met this guy - that way I wouldn't find it so hard to vilify him.

Morning

The morning comes with food for thought. Breakfast in bed includes a fresh serving of regret, a glass of shame, and a side dish of bemused ambiguity.

The hangover is complimentary.

I think I laid my respect for his character a little too thick. Anyone else I would have thoroughly wished this upon; not her, not me. I shouldn't really argue the fact, though. If sh!t's gonna happen, it may as well arrive with some form of positivity.

Onward

My new favorite album of the moment is Your Majesty by The Anniversary on Vagrant (the Get Up Kids' and Dashboard Confessional's label). Emo, Britpop and mild new wave inflections coming together in absolute bliss. ("Save me from myself")

Rejoice, for Belle and Sebastian's soundtrack for the Todd Solondz movie Storytelling is scheduled for a tentative release date of May 5.

Recent acquisitions:

Beulah - The Coast is Never Clear: Pop inspired by Brian Wilson's later material. A great album for listening for gentle company that won't intrude upon you. Thumbs up.

X-ecutioners - Built From Scratch: More like "Built From Crap". Well, not exactly. These guys were some of the best turntablists I ever heard, but return here with a duly uninspired album. Again, let me recant. They seem to have included a couple tracks inspired by the newest incarnation of rap-rock, which fail terribly. Thumbs down.

Air - Everybody Hertz: A remix album of some singles off the wonderful 10,000 hz Legend. Nothing exciting here with an absolutely unnecessary vulgarity imported into one of their tracks. Thumbs down.

Gorillaz - G Sides: Unnecessary, disappointing. Thumbs down.

That's it for now.

03.18.02

Nunuu is New News

Tonight I had this great urge to go dancing. It's been a while since I've terrorized the dance floor with the likes of Juliane or Stephanie (great partners, if you're into that).

Snatched up another album from The Anniversary. This one's called Designing a Nervous Breakdown. Nice, but not as strong as their latest, Your Majesty. Not as strong, but damn, do they know how to end an album.

I also finished reading J.D. Salinger's Seymour: An Introduction. The last (as far as I know) story in the saga of the Glass children, whom appear throughout many of his short stories. Beautiful stories that go nowhere but take you everywhere.

I've been thinking: the rest of this site is too much of a bother to update, so I probably will stick to just this and the picture pages (if that works). Feedback anyone?

03.20.02

It's official: Your Majesty by The Anniversary has been played more frequently in a span of days than even Eudora by the Get Up Kids or any Belle & Sebastian album (although B&S rules over all!). It's a good thing to have a great pop record shoulder some of the emotional, mental burden.

Was too stuffed on all-I-could-eat sushi last night to say anything here. Also sucked into working on this little boy's game.

Brood (in private) during my workdays, get smashed during my off hours so I don't realize. Save me from myself!

I was telling my cat that I'd see that girl at some point today - through some coincidence of some kind for sure. I had to come home and admit to her that my intuition was wrong. Kinda weird though. Mao didn't seem to hold it against me.

03.29.02

The Slide begins anew!

Been over a week. See, I can't keep up with these things.

I went dancing finally on Saturday. Danced my legs down to the knees. Lisa took me out, but wasn't as dance-crazy as I was. Tired and exhausted from a full day's work, then drink, then dehydration and what to do when Belle and Sebastian get played? Irresistible.

My game's expansion pack is out at last! No thanks to the outright inept communication system at software retailers; they couldn't tell me when the store would be getting a clue. Pfft!

Thinking about times when I do something I'm afraid of but know it will assure me that I'll be a better person for it. Leave the heavy thoughts while I can, though. They'll catch up with me at a bar, work, bus stop, etc... Those worst of places where you wouldn't just bury your face in your hands.

Good night.

04.21.02

Stifling, suffocative. This wretch of a city has taken so much from me. What am I still doing here?

Internal conflict: Moralist vs. Animal. Bemused contentment versus need for girlie action.

A late official congratulations to my sister who will be having a baby. A wonderful thing for her and our family for sure, but why do I have to be an uncle so soon?

And to my dear pal Jorge:

I've surmised an explanation for those accursed 'flying rats' more popularly referred to as 'fcuking pigeons'. There are no nests - much more, no eggs, no apparent means of reproduction by these creatures. Could they not be a conglomeration of humidity, old newspapers, cigarette butts and bus exhaust? Prove me wrong in this.  I dare you.

05.02.02

Wandering Along

As many of you already know, I've made it into print as "Bookshopslave" in the latest issue of PC Gamer (June '02). Just niggling around with image files and such. The community isn't as congratulatory as I thought they'd be. Enough of that, though.

A girl on the bus catches my eye the other day. She has this hair with the little mini snake fang hair things placed sporadically on the back of her head. Cute, very cute, in it's apparent chaos and unkemptness, much along the lines of chopsticks in the hair, too. She sat in front of me and the nervous welling grew in my stomach until I resolved to ask her what the clips were called (I knew I'd want to write about it and what to call those but  mini snake fangs?). I skipped my usual stop for work and got off at the mall stop (the last) a block or so away.

I approached her with "This might sound weird, but what do you call those clips in your hair?"

To my dismay, she responded with a thickly foreign accent (eastern European?) saying, "I don't know, they are just clips?", immediately defusing my interest. I walked away with a sh!t-eating grin, having conquered something. The results weren't what I was expecting, but the initial accomplishment over myself was enough.

I've discovered the magic of recording streaming audio to minidisc. Thus far, I've captured three live Belle and Sebastian performances and remain in utter bliss. Bliss, dammit!

Belle and Sebastian's new Storytelling Soundtrack is scheduled for release on June 4.

Another bus encounter: two girls get on, slightly punked out. One duly, forgettable in a big-boned plain fashion, the other, slim brunette with red-dyed parted bangs. The first waves me from my B&S headphone euphoria to tell me she likes my Bratmobile t-shirt. When their stop comes, I get a smile from the cute one and a pang of regret in gut. No biggie.

Later

I hate that goddanm tv. Just wasted the better part of an hour and a half watching shows I actually like (out of possibly three or four total). I sit there glued to the screen even during commercials. Could this have been a byproduct of childhood?

05.04.02

I've had three cookies and a sausage for eats today. Woke up late and couldn't get to work on time so I only showed for the second half of my shift. Just couldn't go through a full day...

Two beers down and I'm starting to get comfortable. Paul is in town and wants to see Pop Life and as much as I would like to see girls (wonderful girls!), I don't know if I'm up to it.

The roommate and I are discussing things we could do to the apartment for a better ambience to impress people we bring over. Thinking about doing some DIY type stuff around the place and a "Felicity's apartment" motif for that extra push. Not that we're desperate, but the place reeks of bachelor pad.

05.05.02

Same night, but 12:00 on the dot as far as my computer's concerned. Not quite sufficiently drunk; still thinking of all those things that hang like bitter icicles.

Regrets, far-off aspirations, doldrums, etc.

Watched "Songs for Cassavetes", a film about the independent punk scene (primarily west coast) and I want to leave this dreaded city more than ever.

Feel like sh!t.

An old extended acquaintance, far-removed, quite unknown to me these past five years has committed suicide. The thought of it sits on me more than it really ought to.

Somber note to leave you on and I apologize, but I'm all out of material. Good night.

05.15.02

Thinking of falling leaves; their final landings guessed at but unknown, subject to the whims of a breeze and a host of minute details. Swaying, dancing, diving - how much to interfere and when to just sit back and watch?

05.17.02

Went out bar hopping tonight with Doug. Quite an interesting experience. We started our night over a couple beers debating whether or not we'd watch a movie (box of Kleenex in place - Girl's night in) or go to a bar (guy's night out). Eventually, the adventurous spirit won out, only we had no place to go. Nearby places were either too trashy or...  well, too trashy.

Our first stop was Billy's Pub in North Miami, the same place I once witnessed a stripper make fools of all the patrons for some frat boy's birthday (enough reason not to go back). The atmosphere was... predictable. A very trailer Christmas party with us playing the roles of token persons. We walked in and the expression on their faces was exactly that: How dare you interrupt this very special trailer Christmas! There was a broad selection of crappy and tolerable beer and we made do with Amber Bock.

Thoroughly disinterested with even the social commentary end of things, we felt we had to leave. Where to next? There was no where, just a vague recollection of crappy bars. The thought processes grind and churn and we decide, "Hey, we're young, sharp fellas, let's see if there's anything on US1. We stop at a poor excuse of a restaurant chain slash hangout bar called Gusto's, which by day serves up gut busting psuedo-Mexican fare and at night delivers a thumpin' bar scene complete with small floor space set aside for dancing. Disco Ball? You betcha. Could it have been any worse than to have seen a ridiculous group of night spot poofy-hair fiends hitting the dance floor? No, so we left.

And on to Billy's Saloon. I sh!t you not, that was the name and not a mile away either. As we pulled up, I said to Doug, "No matter how trashy this place is, we're gonna go in and order a drink." This was me speaking - me who hated walking into a place and then walking right out. So that was the plan. We inspected the parking lot: SUV's, two minivans, a couple insignificant economy cars and some trucks. No Volkswagens or anything of that nature.

Inside there is no music playing. The lights were dim (as is expected) and there were electronic poker games below a "For Amusement Only" sign while a typical coin-op baby pool table sat in the back. We sat at the bar and to my surprise, the bartender was a wrinkled old man in a white button-up shirt (was there a bow tie?) whom we heard referred to as "Louie". His beer list ran pathetically, like a middle distance runner with a limp. Not surprisingly, the neon Bass signs which may have implied that this establishment actually stocked it on draught were most misleading. The only tolerable thing was Guinness in the bottle, and even that wasn't the better draught version.

Amidst the unnecessarily loud philosophizing of the brilliant sex expert -come-car-club barflies, we played a long drawn out game of pool, me being barely able to drink in addition to Doug's cigarette playing havoc on my stability. I don't recall ever wanting a game to be finished so quickly. Once done, it was out of there; to hell if those beers went unfinished.

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