I had a firm intention when I sat down to write this post. I wanted to say something about the place I am in the world, and about how I feel about the world, but I don't have any serious desire to do that anymore. I don't feel like writing down a record of what my state is would help anything.

The dilemma with which I'm faced is really one about whether keeping track of my life is worth the effort. I know that sometimes I just have to let out all of my thoughts in writing or my head feels overfull. I don't know if that gives me the right to put all of that on public display though. Ultimately if I decided to write a book (or finish any of those I've been working on) Then it would be the same sort of situation. Why are the products of my mind, imaginatory and not, important enough to be shown to everyone who cares to see them? I doubt that I'll stop writing, and doing so in a public way, but I also doubt it will cease to bother me to a certain extent.

The cult of micro-celebrity isn't something I aspire to. It bothers me that people could know where I am and what I'm doing nigh all the time. That doesn't mean I stop posting facebook statuses, nor does it mean I stop posting thoughts on this blog. I wonder what that says about me. As much as I find people airing their dirty laundry for the attention of it a little disgusting, to a certain extent I am one of those people.

I suppose the real idea here is that I'm recognising my own contradictions. There are things about me which don't mesh with each other. I don't feel bad about this, but it's simply something I feel I need to be aware of. People like characters with internal contradictions, we like our holy gangsters, and our ethically questionable heroes. These inner contradictions engender interest. I guess people realise that they are not just one person. The duality of mans being is vital to our concept of self. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, "The Dark Knight", any number of other characters give clear view of this. I'm just not sure I want to be part of this self contradicting thing we call humanity. I can't really do anything about it, but I do wonder how necessary our duality of being is, how necessary that which is evil about us is.

my hollidays, and me

I spent Christmas at my brothers, hanging out with my little niece and nephew (damn the English language for not having a cognate for Sobrinos) and playing Poker with my parents and my brothers friends. It was a good day and I'm glad I went up to see everyone. That's sort of become our holiday tradition. My brother's house is where we have thanksgiving and where we have christmas. Everything else is up in the air, but those two are pretty solid.

The tradition of having thanksgiving at Craig's is a relatively new one. While I was growing up (or for most of that time) we would have thanksgiving up in Oregon with my brother Chucks family. That only lasted one more year after he died in 2002. It sort of became too much. That whole thing was sort of too much. The way my family interacts isn't very different because of it, but certain things were thrown into relief.

It's a topic I'd need more time to delve into. I don't mean that I can't talk about it or anything, I simply would need more time to really know how I feel about things. The way that my family is confuses everyone but those members of my family. Everyone thinks they have a crazy family, but for mine it's true.

My siblings are all about 18 years older than me. My sister is technically my half sister and my brothers were adopted. All of them were here long before I was, and all are my siblings in the truest sense of the word. Everything else about my family is complex in different ways.

My father has the similar mental illness to mine, or perhaps I should put it the other way around. That's made a lot of my life interesting, and has made all of his interesting. We lived in Japan, and we lived in the mountains. I grew up with these two polar opposites, so as much as I am a boy from the mountains I am not like everyone else from the mountains. I was raised by teachers in a community that didn't value education. I grew up with rednecks, and still became a far left winger. I am filled with contradictions. That's partly because of my family.

There's more to me, but that's what this blog is for, to really figure it out. Maybe someone will be interested in who I am, and maybe they won't, but either way I'll figure out what all these intertwining influences mean.

back home with mixed feelings.

I'm back in the mountains tonight. It's an odd feeling. The place is still intertwined with the good and bad that came from spending most of my childhood here. Coming back up here has also reminded me of how horrible it feels to be stagnating. Even when on vacation the fact of stagnation eats at my being. I'm not particularly pleased with doing nothing. That's not to say I don't still play my guitar and read and write while I'm here. I just don't feel like those things lead anywhere.

The nature of this place is isolation. If I produce something of worth here, it is of no worth to the rest of the world, mostly because it doesn't ever get to the rest of the world. Basically I am reminded of the futility I felt while growing up. Many of the things I'm feeling now about this place are no longer true. I no longer have any responsibilities in this place, and no longer do I have to wait to get out. If I so chose I could leave tomorrow. That is a liberating thing to know. But just because I can leave doesn't make the memory of being stuck any more pleasant.

Ultimately that is what this place reminds me of, ambition caged by circumstance. I hadn't returned here for the longest time for just that reason. All I was reminded of was the sick feeling that I was capable of more than I was allowed to do.

Being back isn't as bad as I had anticipated, and I am willing to put up with my feelings of stagnation and confinement for a while. I don't so mind the situation when untethered, but I doubt I'll ever remove the feelings that made me hate this place. I doubt the things that I never got because I grew up here rather than somewhere more open will stop haunting me. I doubt that I'll ever grow to love this place. Maybe I'll grow to feel indifferent, maybe I'll be able to see this place objectively sometime, but that time hasn't come. For now I just marvel at the natural beauty and the way that so many of these people surrounded by it are utterly ugly in comparison.

post-chordalism.

To further expand on my previous post, this post will deal with what I am beginning to think of as Post-Chordalism. Or Post-Chordal music. It's all based in how you think of it.
The key basis to the idea is the removal of a structure mediated by chord progression. This is something played around with in free jazz. I don't feel it's been played around with, (at least not enough) In music where guitars are the primary focus.

I admit that the guitar is so wonderfully suited to chords that not taking advantage of that would have been obtuse. Of course that was going to be a focus of the way guitar is played. I'm only sad that has been the only focus. The riff based construction sometimes used in maths rock is a nice step in the correct direction. Using the guitar in a similar way as an instrument which can only play a singular note at a time, though restricting in certain ways, opens up so many possibilities. It is interesting even as a simple exercise. It's like trying to play without a high E string. The sound is different, but it challenges you to play within a truncated range. This challenge changes your music, often for the better.

I don't suggest that Post-chordal music would have no chords, I simply suggest that the usage of chords would be less frequent, and at the whim of the guitarist. In the early stages I imagine this would sound like free jazz played on the guitar, but whence the techniques prominent in maths rock, such as finger tapping, enter the arena, something entirely different will emerge.

The Point here is that the Post isn't a complete leaving behind of, but a de-emphasising of. In many a song the chord progression is the key sign of structure other than "verse chorus bridge" Though I'm not yet sure about which vestiges of structure to keep and which to get rid of, I do think that chord progressions are on their way out.

I would most like an ensemble sized group, with a bandleader within. The bandleader would give signal, be it musical (some riff perhaps) or other wise which tells the rest of the band to switch their tone completely. whatever had been worked on is left behind and something new is created. The only structure is the way in which the bandleader decides to line up the changes. Some riff can be the focus of a block of the song, but everyone does as they will in that space, playing off of each other, until signalled into another switch.

That's the basic Idea. The amount of music that could come of it is magnificent. There is a nigh infinite realm of possibility in just that idea. If someone manages to start such a Post-Chordal, or Free-rock Or whatever the hell else you want to call it, band, ensemble or so on, I'd be thrilled.

In fact that would make things easier for me. It's never the first guy who does it who makes the biggest waves. Take Ornnette Coleman's adoption of Free Jazz and then John Coltrane's (Coltrane was second, and far bigger)/

So please borrow my idea. Perhaps better musicians than me can take it and do something with it.

So this idea is yours to anyone who finds it. Credit me or don't, but make great music either way.

maths rock/free jazz = The future of music.

I've been listening to lots of maths rock (It sounds better as Math rock but mathematics is plural for god's sake) Bands like LITE, You Slut!, Maps & atlases, This town needs guns, Foals, American Football, and a few others. I love the guitar interplay. That's always been a big interest for me, interplay of multiple parts.
It brings up the fact that my musical interests and aspirations explore a few particular things. I am most interested in the interplay of multiple melodic lines, discord, passion, and innovative use of dynamic range.
It can be seen in my interest in Jazz, and maths rock, as well as my interest in screamo and post-hardcore. I am most comfortable where musician-ship meets the need to express.
I am helped by the fact that I strongly desire to express things I'm unable to put into words. There are a number of things that only music can bring out. The best example I can give of this is the way that a piece with two melodies brings out a third melody which though unplayed, is naturally there. It's like the two melodies outline the space for the third unplayed one to go. Basically one is able to hear the space inbetween.
This is partly because of the way I hear music. I hear music in terms of what can be added to it. Most songs have something missing. Almost all songs. Even great songs have things missing. There are melodic opportunities unrealised. when nothing is missing the music is just fucking amazing, but this is a pretty rare occurrence.
So I'm as likely to come up with some different tune to go along with a song as I am to sing along with the tune the song already has. It's only when people have more than one melody going, playing off of eachother, and modulating based only on patterns set out beforehand and the other players ideas. It's the logic behind great jazz, especially free jazz.
Two great musicians playing off of each other is a great example of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. Two great musicians playing off of each other pushes each musician in directions they wouldn't usually go.
I feel like the natural next step in music, the next progressive step is that fusion between free jazz and math rock. There is a natural junction there that I don't see being fused. I asked my friend (a wonderful jazz drummer) why no one has gotten to this point yet and he suggested it's a musicianship problem. Most jazz music with rock instrumentation becomes fusion. That's all fine and well, but it's been done. It is passée in the most literal of ways.
What I would like is a free jazz played with rock instrumentation and a certain flavour of maths rock tied in. It's a hard thing to describe, but with only one person I sure as hell can't play it.
The trick is to remove a large deal of the structure of the songs. That is where the maths rock is missing things. There is a great deal of interplay, and the way that the guitar is weilded is pretty impressive, but the removal of standard rock structure is what's missing.
That's also the problem with the fusion inclinations of electric musicians who chose to play jazz. It's like they can't get past structure. Maybe I learned differently and so ended up at a different playing point, but the rock structure, for all the good that's been done with it, needs to be put to rest.
There are advancements in rock, and they're interesting, but they all have the same structure for the most part. Subversions of this structure are welcome and usually end up being some of my favourite things, but none have been game changers as of late. The story has been the same for jazz. Jazz hasn't had a real game changer since the death of Davis. There hasn't been a Coltrane for the modern era.
Someone who throws into sharp relief the things that can be done. Someone who throws a monkey wrench into the workings of things. Basically I am calling for those people who have the inclination to make beautiful Jazz or Maths Rock, or Post Hardcore to take a good hard look at what you're changing. Say fuck it to the 90/10 rule about familiarity/innovation and throw out most of the structure that keeps you up. Be brave enough to create without a life vest.
I'm going to try to further this dream, and I continue to play guitar for hours a day to further my skills, and my goals, but if someone should step up before me, that would be welcome.

fascinating flaws.

This is a retread from some time last month, but today was indeed dreary, and I've figured out that if I want to write on this blog every day it would be best to just write things related to what I write in my notebook (or in times of little inspiration just copy my notebook). So here are a few pages from my notebook from a few weeks ago.

" It's a pretty dreary day, but that's how I like it. yesterday I stood in the rain for a while waiting for a bus. It felt good having water pour down on me. It felt nice to be out in a healthy world. I chuckled at everyone trying to keep dry, and wondered how much sense it made for something made of so much water trying to avoid just another form of water.
This is one of those ways people are so fundamentally silly. Some of our beliefs and actions can be so asinine. That's of course part of our brilliance though. The lies we construct are so masterful as to inspire awe. The idea of religion is so fantastical and yet so practical. All of our flaws, if you so wish it to call them that, are amazing.
Just as the snake with two heads thrills and excites, so do the apes with beliefs in a higher power.
We are amazing. Delinquency, cruelty, the creativity with which these things are acted out is fascinating. NO mater how much one detests the purpose of guns, the inherent beauty of the object is unavoidable. Our contradictions and the ugly little things that define us are interesting.
Much like staying dry when it is so unnecessary, our quirks show a huge creativity in the interactions we make with the world around us. "


so that was written in a surprisingly post like format, for being a direct quote from my notebook. Luck I suppose.

If ever there is a quote regarding how many blogs in the world there are, blogs like this one are accounted for in that number. That sort of draws into question the logic of those numbers. That' my blog exists and is written in doesn't make it important. If people read it, then it might gain some amount of importance, but as far as I can tell it isn't. There must be millions of blogs that work this way. There is someone who writes on it frequently (probably more frequently than I do) but very few people read it, few enough to draw into question it's validity, and importance.
So when I see newsmedia talking about blogs and how many there are, I'm sceptical. Many of these blogs are just like this one, Of little importance, and of little interest to most people. that's what is great about blogs, they're very individual. That's got to be remembered.

three things of importance.

Contemplating what this post should be about I came across three things I want to talk about.

~ I hate being single. It's partly the whole lonliness thing, but I'm simply no good at it. I'm consistently good at relationships. I'm good I maintaining them, and being thoughtful. All that stuff comes naturally to me, but all the stuff that comes before that doesn't work as well. I'm only so introverted. I like to be alone most of the time, but having one person who is allowed in my bubble makes certain things way more tolerable. I guess it comes down to the fact that I can only play guitar for so many hours a day, and read, and write. In that other down time, having someone I can just lean on and curl up to makes the rest of everything better.

~ nextly, I just started watching the show Skins on BBC. It's very good. The first episode I saw was fascinating and screamed of literary prowess. Just that episode (it's episode 16 I believe, the title of it is "Tony") Is one of the best, and only, examples of television as art. That episode is just a great fucking story. I liked the others I've seen too of course, but that one was brilliant, and felt like an elevation of the form.

~ and finally, I really want to get a band going. I've a few songs written with a guitarist friend of mine, and I could see it becoming something more, but it's not moving particularly quickly. I've also not played bass in my friends band for a while. My good friend and drummer from my last band has been atrociously busy, so not much has gone on there, and he's one of the only fellows I know who I feel could move my music towards where I want it to go.
I've been playing obsessive amounts of guitar, and have a number of song ideas set and ready to show off, however I don't know any bassists who could do what I want done. Normally I'd be the bassist. Actually Ideally I would do everything, just have myself cloned a few times, and then have Dan do drums. I guess what I'm really saying is that I need to find some musicians who have time to dedicate and with whom I can collaborate. I'm also tired of being in bands with just guys. There aren't nearly enough female musicians (at least not in bands. There's no shortage of female instrumentalists in more classical settings) I feel like having a differently structured brain working on things makes the music better (exemplary are My Bloody Valentine)

Actually that's what I would like for a project, I would like to be as Kevin Shields was for Loveless. He did nigh everything and then had at his disposal Colm O Ciosig and Belinda Butcher.
Colm contributed one track, (was incapacitated for the majority of the recording) and Belinda did primarilly singing (so the things that Kevin couldn't do for himself).

That's why I just want a four track recorder so I can get this stuff down. A recording mechanism is my next priority really.

alright, enough ranting, I'll post some other time. Likely in a few days. Until then.

fits and starts.

I tend to post in fits and starts. It helps that no one reads this blog, but I am quite aware that quietly posting every day will get one readership. I have a whole bunch of listeners on Blip.fm not just because my music selection is superb (even if it weren't someone would think it brilliant) but because I post all the time. The degree of love directed my way and the sorts of people who listen to my posts is determined by my musical tastes but it's my prolificness that determines the fact that I have listeners at all.
the point is that once again I'm going to try posting here every day. I already write every day. I might as well put some of that writing on the internet. It'll get out somewhere. I can't say that It will be good (though being so self deprecating isn't a great idea in the grander scheme) but it certainly will be.

10,000 hours

It takes ten thousand hours to become a virtuoso. That's a pretty consistent number. In research on exceptional people that's the number that comes up the most often. At my current rate of practice on guitar (ignoring any practice I've done up to this point, and assuming unusual diligence) It would take me (365x2 = 730. 10,000/730 =) 13.69 years. Obviously it's not quite as dire as that, but that is still not the best thing to be hearing. I'll be Thirty Three by then, (nigh thirty four). Not exactly an old man, but not a young one either. I suppose I could up the practice, but I don't anticipate my time getting more available in the intervening years.
Add an hour of practice each day I'd only shave off three years or so, and once you've committed to ten, what's another three. It does seem rather hopeless.
That of course isn't to say I won't continue to practice, probably for the rest of my life, it's simply to say that I've a long way to go.
I look forward to the music, but I do rather wish that my virtuosity would appear somewhat more rapidly.
however there is naught to be done about that.

it's been months. I've not written in months. That's not to say I haven't written at all, just not here. I've actually been writing quite a lot. I just suppose I haven't felt it good enough to show off to the world.
I'm a rare blogger, in that I don't always like airing my dirty laundry. There's certainly a nice catharsis when I do, but some things just sound too whiny even for me.

I've had a very uneventful month. I'm relatively close to finding a job. That will pull me out of my odd stagnation.

My room is coverd with things. I haven't even fully moved in. I can't ever seem to get the desire to move things into some order. No one really visits my room, nor do I expect they will anytime soon. It's partly laziness, but it's also partly simple desperation. When I get a job I'll clean everything up. It's messy because I like a certain amount of parity between my state and my environment.

The mess doesn't bother me, but it really should. Everthing should matter more to me, and that it doesn't is somewhat disturbing. I do want to get this whole thing started. I really want to get this life of my going somewhere, but so much of that is just waiting. So much of it I have no control over.

I can do what I have been doing, just reading, and writing, and playing music, but little else comes my way. I don't go anywhere, and I don't feel good about that.

Not only does my lack of control over when my life starts up again bother me, so too does my lack of companionship. I have dear friends who are wonderful, but it's not the same as having a partner. honestly I kind of just miss cuddling. I don't sleep well alone. I don't sleep well at all, but when i'm not alone I don't feel so bad about it. As much as I need time to myself, I wouldn't mind having someone else to lean on.

I don't even really feel like explaining it. I just have gotten tired of being alone. romance fulfills and entire different need.

I never did like being single.

It has been twenty two days since my last post, and boy what a twenty two days it has been.

I don't care to go into detail. It sucked, 'twas manic and crazy, and filled with upheaval. I can't say much more without opening the speficicity can of worms.

Tonight I haven't been sleeping. I'm quite wide awake, and it's three AM. That's not too unusual, but it does point to a possible manic upswing. For all that such upswings always get me into trouble, they feel fucking great most of the time. Sometimes they end up being far too much, and the aftermath is always horrible. It's a bit like drug addiction though, once you're no longer high you have to deal with all the consequences of having neglected shit, so you want to get high again and forget it all. that's how it goes. Right now I just kind of want to be manic so I can go out and spend money, do drugs, get laid, and not give a fuck about any of it. Of course I don't actually want to do any of this because I know how much it fucks up my existence, but damn would it be nice to get out of the shithole I've been in.

Things are all right though. I just want a bit more companionship of an intimate sort (I've plenty in the way of friends) and a bit more of a fulfilling day to day existence. What I really want to do is either move to Ireland for a year. Just pick up and go right now ditching everything, or go on tour playing music. The difference between the two options is the going off to play music is far far more viable. I might be able to actually pull that off. I've been playing a lot of music lately. I've always been playing a lot of music, but now I'm playing more of my own. I was looking at my forearms tonight and thinking about how much bigger than my biceps they are. This is just because I play bass and guitar for hours every day. My forearms are beastly, but my biceps are as whimpy as can be. I like my forearms so that's fine by me but it provides interesting evidence for how i spend most of my time.

This has turned into somewhat of a rant, but I suppose that's what this blog has become. It's of no incidence as no one reads it, but I still should work on that.

a hectic two weeks.

I haven't posted on here in a while. Two weeks to be exact. It's been a long two weeks. I'm moving. In fact tomorrow I'll be out of my apartment and between places for a week or two. That's fine but it does make things busy and annoying. Julie and I broke up. It was the right decision but that doesn't make me exceedingly happy about it. I'm glad I was with her for as long as I was though. She was with me at the wrong time though. If we both had our lives together when we were going out then I'm sure it would have worked out much better, but that's not how it worked.
She only ever knew me while I was somehow insane, and There's not much I can do about that. I'm getting to know myself better and I'm dealing with not being with Julie surprisingly well. For about a week before we actually broke up I was dreading and expecting it so I got some songwriting and ranting and the such done. That helps a lot. I'm not even sure if the songs are worth playing for anyone but damn do they make me feel better.
My head is feeling ok but I've some things I haven't had the ability to deal with lately. I'm afraid I may be Bipolar. It seems that my first quarter here (well I don't actually know the time span) was all a manic episode. Everything I did then fits with the diagnosis. I realise the conflict of interest involved in self diagnosis, but I haven't been too far off in the past and I've got a pretty good psychological knowledge. I wish I were as good at dealing with my problems as I am at dealing with the problems of other people.
It will be nice to move to someplace new, but the process of it is very very annoying. Because of my couple of weeks of craziness I have more things to deal with now than I would have had I planed a bit better. It's nothing too huge but I'm not looking forward to various hassles. I never really had someone to be with at night or when I was feeling lonely. Even so, I wish I did now. Julie at least filled the role in some emotional way.
It's a horrible catch twenty two, when you're sad and in hard times you can't get a partner, but that's when you need one. You only get the support when you don't need it.
Mental illness seems to have a lot of those. Catches are all around, and I'm sure tired of them. I'm kind of tired of everything. Work, The world. I still want to be here in hopes that better things come along, but I'm not enjoying the world as it is. some things are going well, work for instance, but that is of little countenance.
These things will either work out or they won't, either way I must deal with it. I'm working on it, and It's hard, but such is my lot.

I hope to have better things to report next I post, but such may not be the case.

the neuroscience of storytelling.

It looks like there hasn't been any research on the neural basis of storytelling. Not so much as one neuroimaging study. It seems to be an unresearched thing. That is what I want to study. I want to study the way that brains tell stories. Which parts of the brain are active, what is going on in these parts, how does making up a story differ from telling one which is remembered, how does writing a story differ from speaking one. There are a lot of questions and all of them are rather interesting and would be easy to make studies about.
It would be interesting to see if the brains of people who tell stories for a living are different than other people. Do the sorts of stories you tell cause different brain morphology? If you are a trial lawyer and tell a certain form of story to juries how is that different from a writer telling a story? Is there some neural basis for the structure of stories. Other than semantics of language, does our neural network somehow determine the structure of stories.
Is there some neural basis to archetypes in stories.
I'm really shocked that no one has studied this yet. I may just not have found anything yet, and I'm going to keep searching, but that it's been this hard so far shows that there is so much stuff we don't know. It's also such and interesting intersection of various things neuroscience studies. It requires an understanding of the neural basis' of memory, language, social interaction. So much of what seems to separate us from other creatures is storytelling.
Some animal studies could be really interesting as well. It would be interesting to see if a Parliment of rooks is indeed being told a story by the rook in the centre. Where does the ability to tell a story begin.

This is great because it is also the intersection of two of my loves, Storytelling and Neuroscience.

anywho, I'm very excited about this and have been mulling it for a while. I still want to study mental illness as well, but the storytelling is interesting enough to be another focus of study.

As if I weren't already frustrated enough.

It's awfully hard once you've gotten into a rut to get out of it. It takes more effort than succeeding under any other terms. It's not so much time effort as emotional effort and the effort of going through middleman after middleman. I fell into one of those ruts. It's a pretty well known fact. I'd like to think that I'm all better now, and for the most part I am (no OCD anyways). Being mostly better doesn't help though. I can't show the university bloodtest results for OCD. I can't make administrative processes work any faster.
What is the worst is when there are things I can do. When I find that I am able to change something (usually after the fact) and for some reason or another I don't. Those are the times that really piss me off. It's an anger that can't very well be assuaged because I've no one to blame but myself. It's usually forgetfulness, or minor neglect in the face of stress. Nonetheless I can't stand it. One such thing just happened to me. It's rather horrid and I'm mad at myself about it.
When I was Disqualified from UCD for poor grades (gotten because of insanity) I was advised on the situation. The advisor had me sign a contract for readmission, and told me to call her whence I met the requirements for readmission so that I could sign up for classes and all of that. I was understandably distraught, so the reading of the contract was cursory. I hadn't looked at it again until about a week ago. I called the advisor because I met my requirements. What the contract said. What I didn't read. What I really should have fucking known was that readmission forms for fall are due in on the last business day of July. I found this out today.
It's one of those things where I don't know where to lay blame. I blame myself primarily because it's my fault. I'm not sure how much good just feeling bad about it will do though. Other shit was going on, and a lot of it. On my down time I did jack shit, so If I'd known I wouldn't have had a lack of time for filling out the form.
I just didn't see the form. I took what the advisor said (or what I remembered her saying.) at face value; call her when I got my grades in and get things sorted out. This is one instance in which my avoidance of obsession (to an almost frightening degree really) bit me in the ass.
I was consumed by obsession for so long that I don't ever want that again. Now I suppose I'm being apathetic because if I care too much I obsess. That's just a cursory analysis though. It may just be the fucking drugs. I don't even know. That's the whole problem. I don't know how much of me is well. I don't know what is right or wrong. I don't know anything right now. The only things I understand are stories, the English language, Neuoscience, and psychology. None of those things are doing me any good right now. What use is it to understand how the brain works if I can't even fucking use mine with any degree of accuracy.
I've got things figured out so the fuck ups I've been making aren't exceedingly detrimental, but I have had enough setbacks as it is. I don't need any fucking more.

I could rant for a while more about it, and will later, but now I think I'm going down to the store to get something to drink that isn't soy milk or water.

melancholy.

alone I sit
this heat surrounds me
bit by bit
my grasp it leaves me.
Now I see
where my time's going
To nothing much
just sit and waiting
in stagnation
I can do nothing
so I've tried
to fill these hours
with songs
and poems of little worth
but songs
and poems they go so far, not
far enough.
Worse than being in a rut
because
you made a poor decision
being stuck
for nothing in particular.

four AM

it's only about four am. That's somewhat late, but I'm saying only because I want to make myself feel better. If it's only four, then I still have an hour or so until I absolutely need to fall asleep. at five my next day could start, but at four, It can still be night time. I'm yawning and I feel kind of tired, but I'm also pretty sure that sleep isn't coming anytime soon. I almost want to encourage it away and just sleep a whole bunch after work tomorrow. I don't even know anymore.
This whole weird sleeping thing sucks. It's been a month or two since I last slept on a normal schedule for more than a few days. oh well. It's not as if there's a lot I can do about it.
I feel like it'd be alright if Julie were here, because either she'd be awake as well so I'd have someone to talk to (or just to hang out with for that mater) or she'd be asleep and I wouldn't mind so much lying in the dark waiting for sleep to come. I always sleep better when she's around too. I'm pretty sure it's the same for her.

anywho. There's really naught I can do about either of those things, so I'm going to go and either further procrastinate (odd using that word to refer to sleep) or lay down to try and expedite the process.

Broken car further hinders releif from the world

I can't really help but be unhappy about my car situation. It's been weeks since I last saw Julie. I could go up on a train. It wouldn't be too much trouble to undertake. Her mom's coming up though, and it's the weekend before senior high so it's somewhat intense. I just want to be there. I honestly would be fine with just being there. If it makes it harder for her then I don't want to come. She said I didn't have to go to the trouble, but I feel like she was really saying she didn't want me up there this weekend. I mean, we've got time after camp is over to hang out, so It's not like it makes a huge difference in the long run, but I'd gotten used to seeing her every weekend, and the relief I got from doing so was so large that the absence of that possibility hangs heavily over my head.
I was peeved when I started this message, thinking that Julie just didn't want me up there. I felt alone and I've been tired of this for a while, so I had a shorter fuse than usual. I'm realising that it's not actually that bad, and of course it's understandable that she'd be busy. Without a car our activities are heavily limited as well, and with her Mom there, me being a third wheel wouldn't be completely welcome. My initial annoyance is gone. I still feel a bit forlorn, and despondent, but that will subside.
I have a weekend of leisure ahead of me, and that's not a bad thing. I'll take it for what it is, and read, play videogames, play guitar, and sleep.

The journeys of a wanderer weary (part one)

At it's edge the forest calls
far it goes, seeks to enthrall
deeper still the forest goes
shadows turning, on trees thrown
through the shadows you traverse
thoughts assail you, most perverse
now your head it fills the blanks
making twiglings into shanks
building monsters, they're oh so cunning
your frightened mind then calls for running
you resist its frightened call
telling it to quell the squall
standing still your heart beats quicker
wishing now you had some liqour
to calm your nerves, and settle you down
to un bolt your feet from the loamy ground
this abject fear, it soon subsides
for in this forest no monsters reside
or none you know of, none you pray
tippy toeing on your way
hiding fear and stopping fright
keeping alert, prepared for a fight
then from fog a house appears
on its door are reddish smears
out your axe and flashlight come
to see where all this blood came from
trudging down a bloody path
you begin to do the maths
fearful ground you do not know
no telling how numerous your foes
you turn back silently lurking
sighting an owl through the murky
sitting on a brached perch
causing you to quickly lurch
back your food on dead man falls
over him sick insects crawl
buzzing sounds as flys abound
deadly stench floats all around
trying now to stop a yelp
you prepare to go for help
then you frightfully recall
the nearest town's across the falls
these hurried times this trip bars
with axe out you trot around
'till you hear an awful sound
from behind a crunching bone
now you know you're not alone
in your midst this sad man stands
entreating you with bloody hands
sympathy he wants to start
but soon the fiend begins to dart
at your throat his fingers fly
while he makes an inhuman cry
axe ready down it swings
catching shoulder, metallic ring
armour your weaponry confounds
with the light you shine his eyes
blinding him, making you free to strive
with rope that hangs on back pack coiled
quickly his movement is foiled
hands are bound and feet bound too
only scratches injured you
now you drag the bad man on
singing out victorious song
out the forest now you dance
cheering at your skill, your chance
free at last of fear you are
you want to travel, travel far.

lament of a condemed building

I've been messing with different metres lately. Here are some of the fruits of my labour.

When all the lights have burnt full out
and sounds of living gone away
when all the people leave my halls
my families move on, move on
when my doors, shut for the last
latches rusted, holding all in
still will be the pain and joy
residing in my walls
Paint will peel and chip away
thrown about will furniture be
yet all the filth and slow decay
will fail to confound, or turn away
the sounds of people in my walls
the smells of cabbage, sausage, cooking
the ancient cry of tenement halls
the faint residue of rooms
where lives were spent from start
to the last exhalation
Moistening my walls slightly
still I'll sit in degradation
waiting for destruction
while I wait to be detached
limb by limb they'll take me
I wait here with the memories
of people who forsake me.