Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in DT's LiveJournal:

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Wednesday, July 18th, 2007
2:17 pm	The lock has rusted over Dear Livejournal, So it's been about one thousand years since you and I last spoke. How the hell are you? Wife and kids? Great. Me? Couldn't be better! Oh, just fine! Blah blah blah blah-fuckin'-blah. I don't know what is making me write here again. I've had an amazing last 18 months. Dating Sara is terrific. My job is a lot better than my old one and pays me much more. I bought a new 'Stang and only miss the old one a little bit. I've bought some new guitars, written some new songs, and even did the score for one of Rob's movies. Yay! I suppose it feels as if the last 18 months have simply vanished. As if without some written record of my exploits, I didn't really do anything or accomplish anything at all. I know that such a feeling is bullshit, but that's kind of what it feels like. That's scary. I never really journaled/archived my life anywhere else (there are a few scattered things here and there) thus LJ was a pretty significant source for many years. I always looked at my songwriting as a way to vent. Maybe I was longing for some broad or simply lamenting my existence all together. Maybe I was attempting to recreate a certain mood or feeling musically. If I couldn't (or wouldn't) put those feelings to music I had good ol' LJ to fall back on. Sometimes I would be concrete in my writing, other times very abstract. Sometimes I would pour over every word, every sentiment, other times it would flow like a river and I was simply along for the ride. I guess I have kind of missed it. That's it, I've missed it. So I am going to get back into it. Starting... Now. The Nine Stories itch is back. It's been a couple of years since I read the book last, so I'll have to re-read portions to start the record up again. But since I scored Rob's movie, I have some new ideas for the album. Before I was limited to only fretted instruments. Now I realize I have the ability to compose music on Finale Notepad and could very easily convert those scores to some MIDI program. The couple of years I spent taking music classes as electives at Purdue seem to have settled in my cranium and given me some decent writing skills. My current drum machine (Boss DR770) is frustrating me to no end. It's display is dimly lit, making it difficult to program in all but the best of lighting conditions. The user interface is hurky-jerky, at least much more so than my previous machine (Boss DR550). Instead of having a grid split into 16 segments like the 550, with each segment representing an opportunity for the placement of a drum stroke, the 770 assigns fractional numbers to each segment. So instead of cycling through a graphical representation of a 16-beat pattern, you are cycling through numbers like A048, and A072. Fucking stupid. I don't like the drum sounds. I've putzed around with it endlessly and still feel that the drum sound I achieved on Basemeat is superior to anything I've produced with the 770. In February, I actually bought an old DR550 off eBay for Sara's birthday, reminding me of how awesome that machine was. Maybe it's time to pick up one for myself, again. I'm also getting into the modification side of electric guitars. It started with the Kramer, a cheap strat-style that I bought at Ron Busch Guitar Studio with the sole intention of repainting. It has been stripped and color coats have been applied. The clear coat is in process, but it probably won't be until October that I'm able to re-wire the guitar (I had previously placed a Seymour Duncan JB in it and it wailed). The Series 10 was next. It received a Fender Lace Sensor treatment. I initially wired it completely wrong and had to retrace each and every step. It now sounds sweet, but has a definitive shielding problem, so that's the next skill to master. Also up next is a Jackson DKMGT which will receive the full Seymour Duncan treatment with an SH-4 and another JB. The future refinishing project is another Kramer strat, of which much body work needs to be done to smooth out the various bumps and dings and nicks. The color is a big ol' TBD. Ugh. I like my job, sort of. It's just not really doing it for me anymore. It's pretty boring and not very challenging (I'm writing this at work, in fact). I feel like the avenue I need to travel is to get my CPA and go to work for an auditing firm. That's kind of a cool job, traveling around to various clients, meeting different people, getting into all kinds of arguments over procedures and practices and stuff. I think I have the mentality to be a great auditor and I've seen the sales side of things and know why people do what they do. Of course, my knowledge of GAAP is not much more than your average undergrad, so I would have to go through a pre-exam study course. Steve Walsh being on the verge of becoming a lawyer really makes me want to get this done. That SOB is going to be raking in the cash (of course, he's also got a pretty nice slice of debt to take car of) very soon. Good for him. The other day Rick said the following: "Danny, remember this - women's faults are many, men have but two - everything they say and everything they do." Fucking hilarious. I'm out like Punxsutawney Phil on February 2nd. go blues DT (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 16th, 2007
2:16 am	Hello old friend... While I'm not very dramatic anymore (you know, in the Live Journal sense) I must say that I can barely remember myself at this time of year last year. Hmm. Talking to Stacey the other day - she was speaking of Lori and Lori's new boyfriend. Lori was apparently having some issues adapting to the Not Single Life. Struggling to manage time with friends, time with family, time with boyfriend. She was trying not to abandon the first two and to not over-commit to the later. I took a little different route. I've had friends for 25 years. I've never had a girlfriend. Not to say "fuck you" or anything to my friends, but I didn't really ever feel guilty for spending most all of my time with Sara. Still don't. I think what got me typing tonight was something that is shared between the January 2006 Dan Thompson and the New And Improved!!! Dan Thompson. I seem to recall trying to record a bunch of music last year, with no success, of course. And in the coming weeks I will be setting up a recording studio in my parent's basement while they are away. Pretty much the only thing I'm going to commit to tape are electric versions of God's Eyes, Letter Writing (With The Dead), 9-24, and Pretty Mouth And Green My Eyes. I already have decently acceptable versions of these songs done, but I know Jay Young would be disappointed by them, and since he has done all of the drumming for the songs, I figure they should live up to his standards. So here's to the upcoming "Jason EP"! Wow, that was a really shitty "First LP Post In Almost A Year" post. Blegh. go blues DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
2:01 am	In the grand tradition of me loving "objects of duality" I present Interpol. I've felt really hollow lately. You know, one of those "What does it all mean" things. I guess that's nothing new, but I should be feeling really, really good right now. I have the sex-friend I've been looking for. I have been working on my music like I've wanted to. I successfully contacted Jenn the other day like I needed to. These are good things. But with each successful endeavor I complete, I look at what else I should have. Like, with NSA Sex Girl I think, "I'd like her as a girlfriend." With New Record Time I think, "I want a kick-ass band." And with Talking To Jenn Time I think, "I want to marry her and have like, millions of her babies." I'm never fucking satisfied anymore. Not that it's bad to want to turn good things great, but can't I even allow myself one fucking minute to smell the goddam flowers? Shit. Hence the explanation for not feeling great when I fucking should be. Interpol's music is just so damned hollow. Listening to their recordings, one gets the impression that they are playing half a mile away, in a goddamed valley or something, surrounded by rock walls too high to measure with the eye. The sound reflects and reverberates and recycles until it hits your ear, but at that point it's all jumbled and wacky, like each musician is a little bit off. It just fucking gets me, is all. But Christ, is it draining. Then the singer dude starts signing. Yeah, it sounds like he's coming from the god damned valley, too, but his message is different that the music's message. Interpol - Untitled Surprise sometime, we'll come 'round. Surprise sometimes, we'll come 'round. I will surprise you sometime, I'll come 'round. Oh, I will surprise you sometime, I'll come 'round, when you're down. I just love that. It's such a simple song, one line of lyric, basically. Kind of like "School" but better, I think. Kurt could admit that even though "School" rocked, it was a juvenile song. This though, feels like redemption. For the singer. Or maybe sacrifice. I dunno. Interpretations abound. None the less, I just love the idea of a surprise coming from a song that is as plodding and straightforward and obvious as "Untitled." You can see this thing coming, it's been walking for the last 10 minutes, traversing the landscape of that high-walled valley, its footsteps echoing towards the listener, towards the object of our affection. Oh, I'm dramatic tonight. I lied the other day. Well, sort of. I said I "thought" I was over Jenn. What I meant to say was that I "had thought about" getting over her. And I did, I did think about it. I decided it isn't such a good idea. Interpol - NYC I had seven faces Thought I knew which one to wear I'm sick of spending these lonely nights Training myself not to care The subway is a porno Pavements they are a mess I know you've supported me for a long time Somehow i'm not impressed New York Cares Got to be some more change in my life This song does not sound like New York City. Though I've never been, I've seen enough representations of New York in film to know it's loud, fast, and busy. This song is none of the above. It's coming from that same valley, plodding, lurching, dragging one useless limb behind it, broken. It knows it's done wrong, but it can't change the past and doesn't really have much control over the future, so it simply exists. But it's beautiful, so it continues to exist. I swear these things used to make sense to me. Maybe a successful night at the casino will help matters. Now Playing: Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights go blues (2-12-3) DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
12:19 am	Boo. I don't know when it's going to occur, but I know it's coming sometime in the near future. Of course it is. If it's coming, it's going to be somewhere in the future. That's a given. Moving on... I feel that there is going to be one of those binges I (infrequently) have in regards to composition, sequencing, and recording. Right now there are anywhere from 4 to 10 really, really neat songs in my head and in various stages of transcription in my "Current Works" binder. I'm truly enamored with one in particular tentatively titled "Canada", possibly to be changed to "Oh, Canada" or even "Ferris Bueller and His Day Off In Pre-French-Occupation-Canada, September 12th, 1754." I can't quite say that I'm really schooled in the arena of "stoner rock" but I feel this could be a really sweet song if I'm able to layer the track with different sounding guitars and basses like I hear in my head... That brings up something. I'm in constant analysis of the music I listen to, the music I play, and the music I write. I have definitive tastes regarding the first, recognizable preferences regarding the second, but no real pattern in regards to the third. Of course, I fall in the broad, nearly all-encompassing category of ROCK. "ROCK." Wow. If sold in stores, Dirge records would be in the "ROCK - D" section, somewhere between Dire Straits and Dishwalla. Magnificent. But stylistically Dirge would fall somewhere between Stone Temple Pilots and every band that ever had a singer, or a guitar player, or a bass player with long hair, or a tank-topped drummer, or a keyboardist with dreds, or a flutist, pianist, or any other specialist. Which is to say lacking a certain definitive style. I know that I would hate to be lumped into a standard genre, to be stereotyped by everyone who ever saw someone else play or heard someone else sing. But I can't shake the feeling that, if I really am ever going to try to assemble some rag-tag musicians in the hopes of entertaining ourselves with noise, it might be nice to reel the influences in just a tad, narrow the scope a sconce. I guess I'm a bit better off in this regard than in the days when I longed to create the ultimate DEATH METAL/GANGSTA RAP epic double album that would shock the jazz community to it's very core, but... I still feel like I need a definable sound, rather than a collage of ideas. I once had this dream Of me and you In the cold winter northland With nothing to do And in this dream Every thing's in its place Your winter coat on your body My hand on your face Oh Canada How I miss you so Jenny left her winter coat And I lost my soul Now Playing: The Fray - How To Save A Life go blues (2-5-2) DT (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, September 22nd, 2005
12:43 am	This is something special. Hang on Dan Johnstone, her last name is Dude, I'm so wasted. Wait. That didn't work. Let's try it again... Her name is... Prikosovich. Sweet! go blues DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 31st, 2005
9:39 pm	Thought I'd join the party. Click here. Take the quiz. Post your results. ( See red97gt's results. ) go blues DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, August 18th, 2005
1:11 am	Ohh, so sexy. Oh yeah, I feel like I'm in one of those phases of my life where I don't particularly do much of anything. Primarily the list has now been whittled down to working, drinking, masturbating, lusting over women, lusting over forming a band, lusting over recording a second album, lusting over buying Pro Tools (hmm, maybe just saying "lusting" would have been adequate), eating, sleeping, and more drinking. And more masturbating. Always that. Umm, not exactly hollow. I have things to fill my time and my emotions. Stacey and I had a lovely conversation the other night. It's nice to be the person who, once in a while, gets to watch their friends have the breakdowns, the "emotional blender" kind of thing. Makes me feel alive to see someone suffer. But not in an alienating, hating, wishing-bad-on-other type of way. I think misery kind of grounds an individual, makes us know we are alive, more so than happiness because we rarely if ever dream real, tangible misery like we dream unimaginable successes. So, who knows if I died a number of months ago when she made me stop calling her because I was tired of the buzzing in my head and constant growling in my stomach? Who knows because I've been feeling awfully damn good lately when I can't see any damn fucking fantastic reason to, of course, other than I'm healthy, financially well off, supported by loving parents, surrounded by quality friends, and employed by a company that seems to be getting better by the day. And oh yeah, my car still runs really, really well. And I have regular bowel movements, or "BMs" as one Brian Landzaat would say. But beyond all that trite, petty shit, I don't know why I've been feeling good. To summarize. 1. I'm in love with a married woman who has no romantic use for me. 2. I cannot sing however desire to record another record. 3. I desire to form a band however cannot imagine who to ask and how. So maybe I died and I'm dreaming all this. But why the band shit? Well, I mean, I know why. Music just has always made me feel so much more alive. I remember recording the vocals to Basemeat that summer that seemed long ago in a land far away. It was like, that record was my reason for existing. I woke up every morning planning when I could next shuttle the previously mentioned supportive parents out of the house, thus allowing myself to croon away as uninhibited as I could allow myself to be. Every fucking day. I haven't had a day like that in well over two, maybe even three months. Fuck. Probably coincides with me telling Jenn I was no longer going to contact her. I thought then I'd at least have some fucking massive flow of creativity to seep up my fucking pain and solitude, like a sponge sucks up spilled water or beer or blood, but alas, I've been able to do little than drown my pain in lots of beer and muffle my solitude in the occasional presence of a pal or two. Even these entries feel forced, convoluted. That's why I will cease to write now. But I cannot stop playing. I must start playing again. When I'm playing I really know that I'm alive. Playing allows me to feel it all, and I want to feel it all again. Roller coasters I don't mind, but I always... Hmm, I was going to write that I hated those drives to West Lafayette, using the contrast of a roller coaster against the flat Indiana countryside, but I always kind of liked those car rides, even if I was leaving/returning to her with a broken heart. Still, I desire to become an alcoholic. What a glamorous lifestyle that must be. go blues DT (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 7th, 2005
9:57 pm	I haven't posted in forever. I watched the final 70 minutes of Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind tonight. Third time I've seen the film. First time was in D.C. with Jenn, second was last summer with Jay Young. Sigh. I think the whole point of the film is either one or the other of the following: A)Even if a relationship ends up being shit, you can't forget the good times shared. B)Some people simply cannot be apart, no matter how miserable they can make each other feel. Ron's coming over to talk Blues tickets and other assorted thingamajiggers. I feel I shall expound upon this post at a later time, specifically how it relates to how I view Jenn's future in my life. Duh. go blues DT (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 4th, 2005
11:04 pm	Finally This post is being made mid-screening of Sideways... Okay, so the last 30 second of film I watched sum up (in perfect fashion) why I think mass-marketed Hollywood films now suck the big toes of the little (or not-so-little) indie films. I just watched Paul Giamatti parallel his character's life through the metaphor of wine. Giamatti, a surly, moody, sometimes self-righteous character, describes himself as a pinor noir wine, a wine notorious for being incredibly difficult to grow yet highly rewarding if given the proper nourishment in the perfect environment. If done by Hollywood, this scene would have had Giamatti speaking to his female suitor directly about himself. Maybe he would have talked about his childhood, maybe why his marriage failed, maybe about his general outlook on life. It probably would have taken three to five minutes to complete. Instead, the film assumes the audience has a functioning brain and tells Giamatti's self-diagnosis through a wine metaphor, completing the dialog in less than 60 seconds, and making it interesting while allowing us some room for self-interpretation and self-reflection. The film as a whole has been average. Nothing that makes me want to fling the video disc out my living room window, but nothing spectacular, either. I have a suspicion that the film will carry on as such, just a good movie. But this one scene is exactly why fucking Hollywood films (for the most part) blow and "indie" films are much more brilliant and effective at telling their respective stories. By the way, I hated fucking Crash, I thought it was pompous drivel, so fuck you Brian and Stacey and Lori, that movie sucked. go cards DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 22nd, 2005
10:50 pm	Bible beaters So, am I a big tool for totally loving the most recent Further Seems Forever record? I mean, first off, it's emo. So I suppose emo is all "out" now or something, and that serious indie-rawkers refuse to listen to it. And second, aren't they all Christian and shit? Wow, being Christian is like, just one step above being a Nazi anymore. Whatever, I love that fucking album. Also, I'm going to be spending some serious money soon. I've almost completely made up my mind to buy a Boss GT8. I've always purported to be against multi-effect processors, mainly because of the tinny sounding distortion effects. But my God, that fucking GT8 sounds just like a fuckin' JCM 900. Plus the other effects are top-notch. I'm going to go to Gitah Centah sometime this week and dick around with one for a while and, unless I can't figure out how to turn it on, I'll probably buy one. Also, with my new computer being so awesomely powerful (Jesus, that sounded dorky) I'm thinking about buying a digital recording interface. As I see it, there are two ways to go. One, just break down and join the trillions of people who have Pro Tools and buy an M-Box. Or two, save a butt-load of cash and buy a Tascam interface and use the software that comes with the US-122. I don't know, that last purchase is a way off, I'm going to get my second record done on the 488 before I go digital. So that also means I'll be selling a bunch of shit in the coming months. A Tascam Porta 02 multi-tracker. My Digitech RP-6. Possibly my Digitech RP-50. My Boss Chorus and Compressor pedals (I'm keeping the fucking Metal Zone because it fucking rules) and maybe my MXR Phase 90, but I'm not sure about that one. Umm, I guess I'll sell my Marshall 8080 to fund a bigger amp to use if I ever get a fucking band together again. And of course, that huge stack of unwanted CDs, cassettes, VHS tapes, and computer software I have in my apartment. I got all this going by selling a Slayer video tonight for $1.49. I'm rich, bitch! In other news, Mark's party was fun. Like I thought I would, I ran into Jenny there. I knew we'd talk and be cordial to each other, but I didn't really think that I'd end up spending the rest of the night with her and Andrea. Good times, those two. Now my balls are sticking to the inside of my thighs because I'm sweating so profusely in my hot apartment. Yuck. Now Playing: Further Seems Forever - Hide Nothing go blues DT (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 8th, 2005
7:53 pm	Friday night I went with Mom out to the celebrity hockey game in St. Charles. When I first heard of the event I wrote it off as something I'd hate to watch, a bunch of hot-doggin', cherry-pickin', no skatin' baloney. But the more I heard of it the more it seemed like the participants (an impressive list, to say the least) were actually gearing up for the game and would take it pretty seriously. So I decided to go. Obviously there was no checking. A couple of times guys would bump into each other, and there even was a "fight" between old surly bastards Adam Foote and Scott Mellanby. I say "fight" because I think they were laughing more than they were pushing and shoving, but their lids did come of and Foote even pulled Mel's sweater up over his head. Very entertaining. Before the game, the buzz was centering around Hullie's return to St. Louis as a "Blue" (he played on the Blue team). But when they were going through the pre-game introductions, it was pretty clear that the people were more excited to see another old-time Blue (assuming that he does eventually retire), namely Al MacInnis. I guess the mark of a really great standing ovation is how many swells there are during the whole ordeal. By swell I mean the point in the applause where it seems like everyone is going to simmer down and return to their seats, but... oh, what's that? We're cheering louder again. There were four swells during the MacInnis ovation, and had the announcer not quited the crowd (to introduce Hull, none the less) there might have been four more. We cheered Mac for probably three solid minutes. He tipped his stick, he tipped his visored helmet, he smiled, he waved. But about halfway through he put his head down, dug his heel into the ice, and fanned his stick out on the playing surface. Obviously he misses the game, but just from his body language, it seemed like he was sad that we missed him, and he missed us. The entire game, any time the puck came to #2, even in his own zone, a rousing chant of "SHOOT" would voice itself from the crowd. Sometimes he would pass. Sometimes he would clear. Sometimes he would fake... then pass. But eventually, about halfway through the second period, Mac got a deflected pass out at the right point. He looked up, probably fully prepared to pass again, but to his surprise, he saw a clear lane to the net. So he wound up in age-old MacInnis fashion, stick blade scraping the rafters, skates spinning into perfect alignment with the puck. Mac then swung his hands like a descending pendulum, simultaneously transferring all his body weight from right foot to left, and launched a rocket towards goaltender Robert Esche. I was up out of my seat before the puck even hit the twine. The entire arena knew that the puck was going in, and some fans such as myself probably even knew that the puck would beat Esche blocker side, willing itself between his arm and his body, as Mac had done so many times before. The always gracious smile on Mac's lips seemed to glow a little brighter than usual and momentarily seemed to brighten the dingy Family Arena. The rest of the game was entertaining. The Mellanby-Foote fight. Nash and Pronger slashing each other playfully. 19 year-old Ben Bishop making some saves so 30 year-old NHL goalies would love to make. Roenick falling on the ice and pretending to be hurt. Tkachuk taking a needless penalty. But nothing came close to that one lovely moment where a bunch of hockey die-hards got to relish in the limelight of an aging, possibly never-to-return, hockey great. Hopefully there's a league for us next year. And, if one is allowed to wish for a bit more (and what other right do us Americans and Canadiens have than the right to always wish for more), hopefully there will be a #2 patrolling the blueline for the Blues once more. go blues DT (Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 26th, 2005
12:08 am	Today I thought it might be a good idea to kill someone. Not because I'm homicidal or hateful. It just would be nice to make someone feel something. Anything. Anger. Disappointment. Sadness. Fear... Even if that fear is brought on by the possibility of death, it would be nice to see an emotional reaction in someone's eyes. I shall have to write a new song sometime soon. I try not to hate you And even when empty My mind buzzes angrily I control through the air Unseen and unfelt Unknowing and unable To make my mark On you Very ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead-ish. go blues (in '0x) DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, March 27th, 2005
2:44 am	High Times That is the title to a really, really great MC5 record. Two things that it is "high time" to do, wash my face and update. So... As that the first is now done, and I have poured myself a mid-point drink, I may continue on to the second. Last night, I suppose it was, maybe it was Thursday night, I took what felt like the first step in liberating myself from Jenn. This is not something I consciously want to do, now or what feels like ever, but I think I've taken the stance that it is something I'm going to have to do. Maybe in some now-indeterminable length of time she'll understand what is desirable in a partner, but right now it seems like she is more interested in men who manipulate, over-exaggerate, and generally fuck with her mental and emotional well-being than men who support and genuinely care for her. I wonder about her self-confidence. I've always known it wasn't her strongest trait. But my God, how many times does someone have to tell themselves something before they actually come to realize that it is true? Lord knows how long she's been telling herself, but she's been telling me since December of 2003 that she needed to end her marriage with Nick. And she is just now filing for divorce? Then there's ol' Chaz. I've been listening to her for months now say how wrong he is for her and how much he abuses her, and yet she is upset at me for not exactly being excited his duty in Irag was canceled. If someone abused me in such a fashion I would not only wish them a quick trip out of my country but possibly out of my plane of existence, impact on other lives be damned. (As a side bar, it is painfully obvious to me that his "Oh, woe is me, I'm going off to fight in a war and I'm going to die" was nothing but another bit in his elaborate plan to set her up. She refuses to admit this as true, which is insane, but I have to at least give her credit for thinking it a possibility. If nothing else, she is systematically thorough.) If I could somehow wind my way back around to a point I would say that recent conversations with Jenn herself and other people, as well as my usual self-ponderance over the issue has yielded some new opinions. 1. If she is ever going to dedicate good portions of her life to Charles I am going to have to quit her cold turkey. I have found that when he sucks energy from her she turns to me for quick recharges. Quick for her, exhausting for me. I'm a big fan of self-preservation, so if faced with the decision of giving myself to keep her functioning on the brink of destruction or walking away and letting her destroy herself in every fashion, I would have to choose to leave and save myself. This is the same stance that started our fight so many moons ago, but now I have concrete reasons to stand as such. Why go down with their ship? It's not exactly "all for one and one for all" but why ruin three lives when you can let at least salvage one? 2. I've begun to wonder about myself, again. I feel a shift in personality coming, a changing self-image. From what to what, I really have no clue. But I just sense a change coming in how I perceive me. Recent excursions with Stacy and Lori have made me question the necessity of Jenn in my life, and if I'm going to question that 2 year constant, maybe I should start questioning other long-standing ideas as well. (Another side-bar. She really can't set boundaries for people. Between Charles barging in at 2 in the morning threatening to kill himself and now this guy at work asking to go down on her, during working hours, nonetheless, it's obvious that, if we were to somehow end up together I would have to share Jenn with friends, family and co-workers equally, which, to me, is completely and utterly unacceptable. Defeats the purpose of a relationship.) 3. Whether my non-approach to Jenn has been bogus all along. I've tried to stay non-judgmental and un-forceful during her break-up and now-pending divorce with Nick, but it's clear that she has sought other relationships in the interim, where I have not. Stacy asked the other night if I had considered giving Jenn an ultimatum and I dismissed the idea from her just as I have dismissed it from myself over the last year or so, quickly and without discussion. Now I wonder if this dismissal of my own desires is not unselfish, as I had originally thought, but simply foolish and ignorant. Maybe a time-line/deadline is in order. Some of this requires more thought, some of it doesn't. Some of these feelings I can translate into song, some I will have to suffer in silence. Rereading what I have written, I realize I forgot to say what it was that started this whole mess. She called the other night. I was watching the regional semi-finals, being lulled to sleep by the pace of the games. So I wasn't in peak "discussion mode" like I usually am when we talk, more often than not following a personal work-out. Even so, I was especially curt with her. Many mono-syllabic responses. Not born out of anger or frustration, rather from simple disinterest. I simply didn't want to talk to Jenn. And when our conversation wound down about an hour later I didn't feel the need to launch into a final stab at her pity/desire/compassion like I usually do. When confronted with the questions of "Are you okay?" and "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" I responded with "Yes" and "No", both respectively and respectively. Respectively. Hmm. I've said that I can't hurt her, and I still feel this is true, but if I'm not even given the opportunity to do so, I'm not sure I want her. I'm not a whipping boy, after all. Now Playing: Maudlin Of The Well - Bath DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, February 21st, 2005
10:20 pm	More self doubt So, when I tell her that I only want what is best for her, is that true? Can anyone ever actually say that with a straight face? Or is there always that disclaimer, that modifier of "I only what is best for you when you're with me?" I say that I hate it when people push her in a given direction and that I realize that she hates it too, and my hate for her hate only builds my hate higher which only builds her hate... And so on and so forth. Like a snake eating itself. But wouldn't that just be the sound of me leading her down a path I'd prefer her to take, so that I can either pull her along or follow comfortably myself? I do know with the utmost certainty that if people felt it necessary to impose such heavy burdens on me I would fucking flip. They're not my fucking kids, and yes, I care about them, but it's not my fault and therefore I should not have to bear such a responsibility. She says it doesn't make a difference and maybe it doesn't but then it doesn't matter when standing behind my point either: my life is my life and I'll be damned if someone is going to impose on it or take a significant portion of it away from me. She says that it's her decision, but I have begun to seriously doubt her decision making abilities. She has some amazing skills, some wonderful skills, skills that make me blush with embarrassment when I look at my own respective abilities. But then it often seems like she is unable to separate herself from the people she loves or the people that love her. Maybe I'm doomed, too. In my insistence to have her stand up for what she wants and what she feels is best for herself, how will I respond when she decides that I am not what she wants or feels is best? How, indeed. Now Playing: Bruce Hornsby - Harbour Lights go blues (in '06) DT (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 6th, 2005
1:09 am	To Go See Sunday, February 27th, the Missouri River Otters play host to the Motor City Mechanics. Dear God, how nice would it be to watch Ryan Johnson lay out Draper at center ice or see Jack-MON fuckin' toss Chelios around like a rago doll? Real fucking nice. go blues (in '06?) DT (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, February 5th, 2005
1:05 am	Infestation I'm not sure exactly when but sometime in the very near future I am going to tackle the greatest mix-taping challenge of all-time: making a King Crimson tape. I have been listening to the band in earnest for about a year now, but not until the other day did I realize just how prolific they really are. I was counting down my drawer and Brian and I were talking music. I asked him if he listened to the Crims. He said no, but that he wanted to get into them. I briefly mentioned to him that their musical output is daunting: three separate incarnations releasing over a dozen studio records and countless official live releases since their birth in 1969. He was amazed that they were still together and still producing relevant music. I suppose I had taken this fact for granted, because it didn't hit me until right then that the diligence of the band is immeasurable. I've never been the greatest supporter of "progressive" music. More often than not I find it self-indulgent, self-absorbed, pretentious, lacking heart, soul, and groove, and, if nothing else, simply too dorky to be enjoyable. Exceptions abound, of course. Like Fates Warning and the way they incorporate rhythmic simplicity into their music to make it more straight forward. Or Pain Of Salvation and the way their songs truly bleed. King's X and their harmonies. Maudlin Of The Well and their wall of sound. Nevermore and their endless riffage. Yeah. But more often than not, when I hear someone say, "You have to check out so-and-so, they make prog cool," the band just ends up boring me to tears. Or bringing tears to my eyes through bouts of hysterical laughter. One or the other. During December and January, Jay and I made some good music. We hope to get some of it truly finalized come early springtime. I'm hoping that I can use those recordings as a springboard toward me finding some musicians to create new music with. I have ideas that are fresh and exciting, but it seems like I need a catalyst anymore to really bring them to the surface - I can't do it all by myself. And a singer would help. Ahh, but that all is weeks and then months away. This weekend brings work, and recording, and the Super Bowl, and eBaying, and, as mentioned previously, the possibility of a King Crimson compilation. I also need to shave. Now Playing: King Crimson - Islands go blues (in '06) DT (Comment on this)
Monday, January 3rd, 2005
3:35 am	How bad is it when you don't know what to say to yourself? When you sit there naked and crying, hoping and dying. Questioning every word, every action, every motive. Impaled on an idea, a conception of love. Slowly oozing your soul out onto whichever medium is handy. A Rorschach Test only decipherable by yourself. How bad is it when you know your music better than yourself? When you can predict every note, every key change of every song. But never the day to day reactions you have to the real world. It's not quite a fantasy realm that you've constructed. But it's painfully obvious that you're not rooted in reality. And neither is she. Dear God, it's gotten to the point where I can't even free-write anymore. The pain in my throat is one thing, the buzzing in my head is another. The self-doubt is the real problem. I don't know what I am to her anymore. She says she needs me as a friend... Fuck, I'm so tired of rehashing this shit over and over. Why can't she see that... This entry is pointless. Things I want to type but can't, for various reasons: Why can't she see that I am the best thing she'll ever have? Why can't she just accept that we're perfect, or at least as perfect as it gets, for each other? If things don't change, will I always look at other girls and see Jenn? And if so, will any of them ever make me happy? And if not, will it be because they're no good or because I won't let go? Does she really only need time or was it some combination of things I said and did? Do things really happen for a reason? I've been so emo-ed out lately that I think I fried the part of my brain that formulates interesting journal entries. I guess my e-mail to her the other night was interesting, because there is something that she wants to tell me now. But I simply can't come up with anything that either sounds neat or has any substance. I mean, even when I'm at my worst, I can usually come up with something that rhymes or has a good flow to it. But now, I've got nothing. Except for this throat ache. go blues (in '06) DT (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, December 25th, 2004
6:36 pm	So here are the states I've visited... create your own personalized map of the USA or write about it on the open travel guide Born in Louisiana. Moved to Iowa, then Ohio, then Missouri. Vacationed in Minnesota and Florida. Visited neighbors in Kentucky and Illinois. Took a college tour through Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois. Attended college and fell in love in Indiana. Went to the Rose Bowl in California. Made love in Indiana. Have seen concerts in Missouri, Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio. Took a road trip to Wisconsin. Had the best time of my life touring Maryland, the District of Columbia, and Virginia. Hope to one day return to Her, wherever that may be. go blues (in '06) DT (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, December 19th, 2004
1:21 pm	Okay, so as if television weren't shitty enough... Now it seems like, since we've run out of show ideas, we're going to turn to Hollywood for subject matter.  There's that NBC show with Patricia Arquette that is a total rip-off of Sixth Sense.  Yay!  And now CBS seems to be joining the fun with their soon-to-be mid-season cancellation Numbers, which look like a nice spoof on A Beautiful Mind.  Except it's not supposed to be funny. I got some broad's number Friday night at Mark Rolf's party.  While walking back to my car I told her about that conversation in Swingers in which Mikey and Trent talk about when to call a girl after getting her number.  Honestly, this is the first time I've ever "gotten digits" in my 24 years of life.  Any other time I ask a broad out, I already have her number or I acquire it through less direct means (ie being sneaky). Her name is Jenn.  How ironic is that? Jesus Fucking Christ, am I destined to be miserable for the rest of my life?  Rhetorical question.  Maybe if I were a Gap model I could meet Sarah Jessica Parker and be all happy and less neurotic and shit. I also wonder what public opinion of King Crimson was during the early part of the 1980s.  Like, if someone saw that you had Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair in your record collection, what would they think of you? She is susceptible, he is impossible. They have their cross to share. Three of a perfect pair. He has his contradicting views, she has her cyclothymic moods. They make a study in despair. Three of a perfect pair. One, one too many schizophrenic tendencies, keeps it complicated, keeps it aggravated, and full of this hopelessness. What a perfect mess. go blues (in '06) DT (Comment on this)
Thursday, November 25th, 2004
11:23 pm	"Used to be" is often so sad So Ty Craft just left a comment on my extremely geeky last post. Kevin Bender and I have been out drinking this month. Sara Pilarski shared two nights of the St. Louis Film Festival with me, talking music and relationships. I play poker with Jeff Weber and Greg Garbo every other week. It's amazing how people that I can lose track of for years at a time continually express a desire to stay in contact with me. Especially when I can be the worst on-again/off-again friend in the entire world. It's really lovely to know these people still think I'm worth two shits in a can. So, who's next? Beth Glawe? James Groberg? Chris Rowins? go blues (in '06) DT (5 Comments |Comment on this)