We all grow up aka The new weezer album and the death of my inner child

NOT SO MUCH OF A POST BUT A DECLARATION

 GUINNESS EXTRA STOUT IS VEGAN!!!!

 GUINNESS EXTRA STOUT IS VEGAN!!!!

GUINNESS EXTRA STOUT IS VEGAN!!!!

(this does not include Guinness Draught, but fuck it who cares)

GUINNESS EXTRA STOUT IS VEGAN!!!!

Enjoying pain or sure i'd love it if you punch me in the face

I wish that i could figure things out.  I try so damn hard to accomplish things in my life but I don't really succeed.  Recently I have been reading "Valis" by Philip K. Dick, and there is a portion, the most recent chapter that I have read, in which he describes masochism.  An everyday understanding of this term would describe the idea of masochism as one who enjoys pain.  To paraphrase his lengthy description of this idea, he shows the massive contradiction in the idea of enjoying pain; to enjoy something is to find pleasure in something, pain is the emotional response to an unpleasant feeling.  Therefore the everyday idea of masochism, which is enjoying pain, in fact means that one receives pleasure from something that they feel to be unpleasant.  Contradiction yes, but only in semantics.  I will get to that idea in a bit, first I will expound upon the ideas that he describes.  To quote Dick on his interpretation on the ideas of Theodor Reik and masochism in modern man[kind],"a human beings sees something bad which is coming as inevitable.  There is no way to halt the process; he is helpless.  This sense of helplessness generates a need to gain some control over the impending pain-- any kind of control will do.  This makes sense; the subjective feeling of helplessness is more painful than the impending misery.  So the person seizes control over the situation in the only way open to him: he connives to bring on the impending misery; he hastens it.  This activity on his part promotes the false impression that he enjoys pain.  Not so.  It is simply that he cannot any longer endure the helplessness or the supposed helplessness.  But in the process of gaining control over the inevitable misery he becomes, automatically, anhedonic (which means being unable or unwilling to enjoy pleasure).  Anhedonia sets in stealthily over the years it takes control of him.  For example he learns to defer gratification; this is a step in the dismal process of anhedonia."  He furthers this idea, and this is where i will stop for now.  The reason for this is to get back to the original statement; the enjoyment of pain.  According to the dictionary on my MacBook, to enjoy is to take delight or pleasure in (an activity or occasion), pain is physical suffering or discomfort caused by illness or injury or mental suffering or distress, helplessness is being unable to defend oneself or to act without help, and control is the power to influence or direct people's behavior or the course of events.  So if I am unable to defend myself against something that will cause me pain, I feel helpless, but instead of being afraid of what I know, or believe I know, will happen, I take control of the impending pain.  I enjoy the control, i take pleasure in being able to control what happens to me, even if it is pain, and if it is pain that I have coming to me that, and I am sure of the fact that pain will come, then the impending pain is the only thing that I can be certain of controlling.  Therefore the original idea of enjoying pain holds up, though highly misinterpreted, the idea of masochism, is still enjoying pain, because, as i have previously stated, it is a form of control.  So I am a masochistic, i guess.  

"ain't no color pain can cover the stains

the pictures on the walls will all remain

and even though he's home now sound and safe

surrounded by the faces that he places faith

the images visit from the past he witnessed

can't stay away from memories

sticks with each detail imbedded stone

like he chisels those convictions into his bones

the progress stops and pauses

spits and sputters like the basement faucet

and its obvious he's lost in his regrets

you can smell it on his breathe"

Atmosphere-Painting

Life After College and Its Wondrous Opportunities or Thanks, I'll Have Another Beer

As you know, two weeks ago, I walked across the stage receiving a blank book, which we soon hold my diploma.  As the great thinker Sean McAdams once said, paraphrasing Steve-O from SLC Punk, "Philosophy is the wrong fucking major for a guy like you".  So yes, I earned my BA with a double major in Political Science and Philosophy, which basically means i need to go to grad school/I think way to much (or I pretend to at least).  So now that I have walked across the stage I am forced to answer the question of ages,  "So what are your plans now?"  After my graduation party last week, and my girlfriends sisters wedding last night (which was the first time I met the majority of her family, yeah I was under the gun), I have heard that question...umm, i believe 68 times give or take a few.  So now I am going to ask myself a few questions and then answer them.

1. What are you going to do now?

2. What do you plan to do?

3. Do you think you will be starting a family?

Those are the questions that have been going through my head recently, and have been in the minds of everyone I am in a relatively close with.  So for question one.  I have no clue.  I am taking my LSAT here soon, and honestly that seems to be the smartest route for me to take but I don't know.  I would love to do something in music, or in any capacity of the arts, but honestly I do not know if I have the ability to do such, so for right now I am going to work at the buzz until I get a better job, and until I get into grad school.  For what I plan to do, I guess the previous answer in some ways answers that question, but honestly i have no real plans.  I am just waiting to see what happens.  Now to the third question.  I have been in a relationship for nearly a year and a half, and I love her.  But do I want to start a family, are you kidding me.  Yesterday I went to a wedding and before I left I stopped for some coffee, and my boss said well hey maybe you'll get the bug.  Ummm, really, I don't know what that bug is, well i do, but i don't want to.  I work in a fucking coffee shop, and I make enough, sometimes that is, to pay rent, and I am scraping bottom.  My reply to my boss was, "i'm almost 23", and her reply was "well i got married at 22". FUCK.  Well clearly age has nothing to do with when people should get married.  One of my best friends just got married, and he is 23, but he is happy and it seemed to be a great fit, but shit i don't think I could honestly share a place with anyone, well bed every night that is.  And furthermore, have kids.  I say I don't want kids, and that i hate kids, and that is not exactly true, i just hated kids when i was a kid, and i really don't like the idea of me being fully in charge of another human.  I can barely take care of myself.  What is the deal with everyone being expected to have a kid?  Shit, how many more people do we need in this world.

So that is my answer to all the questions I have heard directly, indirectly, or between the lines and all that jazz.  I don't know, I don't know and come on do I really look like I am ready to make that decision.  

I think i should further expand on that idea.  Having a kid is a big fucking deal.  Getting married is a big fucking deal.  So if I don't want to get married right now, why in the fuck would i even want to think about wanting kids.  maybe i'll want one, but right now, no.  right now i dont even want to get married.  so please, i know that if you are reading this you probably haven't asked me these questions, but these are questions that i do not want to hear anymore, except from one person, and it should be clear who it is.  Unless i bring it up please don't ask me.

Btw, I am a child myself, babies making babies, just think how bad that would be, and think how small they would be.  It would just turn into some kind of russian doll situation.

this has to be a joke

oh yeah and it is...

stay tuned for more, i promise when the semester is over there will be more, and of much higher calibur, and not this bullshit i have created so far.

btw, im not laughing

I am a Dinosaur... or Why I am finally accepting the reality of a digital world?

Anyone who knows me (what a stupid opening line), knows one thing for certain; I love music (and as you will soon realize, I love semicolons, sorry Kurt). I own over 700 hundred albums (that is a combination of vinyl, and cds), but it wasn't until today that I was ready to admit this fact.  I need to set this situation up before i begin.  One, I went to a high school where culture existed in cars and radio rap.  I was seen as a hippy, a fucking hippy.  Yeah I had shaggy long hair and wore bell bottoms and I listened to the dead (which i still do, the early dead, before they started getting pretentious and just wanted to "jam", were a fucking amazing band, and I dare you to defy that fact).  I am also a vegan, and obviously left leaning, but in no real sense of the terms am I a hippy.  To be completely honest, I hate, and always have (even while I ACCEPTED the term) hated hippies.  My favorite episode of South Park, without a doubt is the episode where Cartman tries to eradicate the hippy population from south park, and against all odds after the stoned and boring hippies start a jamfest in south park, he is able to get them to leave by blaring "Raining Blood" by Slayer, of the greatest speed metal album ever "Reign in Blood".

Anyway, my point is this, I didn't exactly fit into my school that I was attending, and i found the best outlet that I could find, and that was music.   I started collecting cds, endlessly, and it has resulted in the collection that I have today.  I have always been an advocate of the independently run record store, and primarily the ones that sell vinyl (because I am a pretentious asshole, but lets be honest, things that were made for vinyl sound better, is pure, did I say that I was a pretentious asshole yet).  Anyway,  i started a massive collection, and to be honest i prefer to own the albums then have digital copies because i like the liner notes and being able to put in a cd, or throw on a record, there is something more real about that action.  But if you were to ask me what I am listening to, and if you were to look at my itunes, you would notice that i have nearly 1300 albums listed, and the majority of stuff that I listen to comes from the selection of things that I personally do not own.  So what does that mean?

For one it means that I am poor, but to be honest, it means this, the digital world has taken over.  I once thought it was stealing but then i realized, no, I support these bands in real ways, via merch and shows (thank you friend for pointing this out to me).  Record companies are ruining the art of music (and yes I know I am not saying anything new), but my point is this.  I love having a hard copy of all my music, but record companies are FUCKING over everyone, the artist and the audience.  They view us as consumers.  I am not a FUCKING CONSUMER.  I am an appreciator of an art form which I deem to be beautiful.  I wish I could buy every album that I love but at 16, lets be honest with tax 20, a pop, even at target, I cannot afford that.  And the amount of money that is going to the artists is so miniscule that it is insulting.  

So here is what I have to say, buy albums, don't buy albums, steal them who gives a filing fuck.  BUT GO TO FUCKING SHOWS, BUY MERCH, SUPPORT THE ARTIST, AND FUCK THE RECORD COMPANIES.  DO NOT GET LOST IN THE IDEA OF THE CD WORLD BECAUSE THAT HAS BEEN COMPLETELY RAPED BY THE CONSUMER SOCIETY.

I LOVE MUSIC

I love music, and I hate the fact that I was so blinded by the consumer based record company system that has ruled for so long.  I have missed out on two years of good music because i have been two poor to buy anything.  Fuck that shit.  Download that shit, burn it from a friend, but pass it onto a friend, and then go to a show and support them.  Don't be a dinosaur like me.  Just think about this:

Dinosaur decay, and over time become fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel works for awhile and it powers beautiful vehicles like my dream car the 1963 Chevorlet Impala.

Fossil Fuels are controlled by money hungry dictatorship.

Money hungry "demockracies" go to war with money hungry dictatorships over these fossil fuels.

Yet, any intelligent person, understands that fossil fuels are in the past, and there are new things that new to be used to sustain our fuel hungry mentality.

E85 is bullshit, and hybrids are band-aids.

We need a new mode of energy.

Dinosaurs are the way of the past.

So don't be like me

I would love to have a 1963 Impala, yet I know it is a dinosaur sucking on the blood of even older dinosaurs.  The world of mass media is the same.  Cds are the dinosaur.  Yeah the idea of of cd is beautiful, but at what cost?  The loss of music, the loss of the most beautiful artform we know.  Don't be a dinosaur.

Be as honest as possible, I hate bull shit, and I won't be offended

(top)

This is a painting that I have created for my buddy Sean.  After a conversation discussing how to incorporate some specific found objects into a painting, i attempted to do so and with beginners luck I suceeded.

My College Education

(Acrylic and Found Objects, on Dry wall)

(Bottom)

This is take two of something that I previously tried to achieve (by accident the first time).  This is imagine is much different than the original but was inspired by the original that was produced in watercolors.

Now I am not sure if I am completely finished with this one, i think I may add some more texture, but for all intents and purposes, it is complete.

"When dawn of faith,

has come and past.

And little boys,

can cry at last.

A mercy shot,

unto the head.

For Hell shall reign,

when God is Dead."

(Acrylic on Dry Wall)

Let it be known that these pictures were all taken with the camera that is built-into my macbook; the quality is not that great and they are at a somewhat funny angle(i do not have a digital camera, therefore I am unable to take good pictures of my pieces, if someone could let me borrow one in the future, that would be great.)

So just let me know what you think and I will gladly appreciate it.  If you think that they are shit, then tell me, i will not be offended, i will be grateful.  I want to known if anything that I am creating is worth a grain of salt and if you like than that is great too, if you want something that is even better, but I will not count on that one bit, but for now, just let me know if I suck, ok.

P.S.  To my loyal reader, I have not forgotten about you, my newest blog will becoming soon, hopefully tonight, hopefully.....tonight.

Pigment and Beer Always Change Our Plans

I need to start this off by saying, that I am my own biggest critic.  Whenever I notice something wrong with anything that I have created I try to make an immeadiate change to it, but for the sanctity of this quasi art-form I have here I will keep it the same, but I must not the inaccurecy that occurred in a previous post.  I made mention of Neruda (and honestly no one probably noticed the error but as the quasi perfectionist that I am, I must make right what was wrong), but as of tonight I realized that the actual poet I was thinking of was Octavio Paz.  Now this is a minor change, not saying Paz and Neruda are interchangable but to say that the meaning of the original post is not much different to the general audience now that I make this point.  The main reason why I am making this change is due to a painting that I created tonight.  After finishing the painting, I realized it reminded me of the "Neruda" (which was actually an Octavio Paz poem) that I mentioned in a previous post.  Well here it is, the poem that is, in its entirety, I hope you enjoy.

Head by the soul, footsteps

in the mind more than shadows,

shadows of thought more than footsteps

through the path of echoes

that memory invents and erases:

without walking they walk

over this present, bridge

slung from one letter to the next.

Like drizzle on embers,

footsteps within me step

toward places that turn to ait.

Names: they vanish

in a pause between two words.

The sun walks through the rubble

of what I'm saying; the sun

razes the places as they sawn,

hesitantly, on this page;

the sun opens my forehead,

  balcony

perched within me.

  I drift away from myself,

following this meandering phrase,

this path of rocks and goats.

Words glitter in the shadows,

and the black tide of syllables

covers the page, sinking

its ink roots

in the subsoil of language.

From my forehead I set out

toward a noon the size of time.

A banyan's centuries of assault

on the vertical patience of a wall

last less than this brief

bifurication of thought:

the seen and the foreseen.

Neither here not there;

through that frontier of doubt,

crossed only by glimmers and mirages,

where language recants, I travel toward myself.

The hour is a crystal ball.

I enter an abandoned patio:

apparition of an ash tree.

Green exclamations,

wind in the branches.

On the other side, the void.

Inconclusive patio threatened

by writing and its uncertainties.

I walk among the images 

of an eye that has lost its memory.

I am one of its images.

The ash tree, sinuous liquid flame,

is a murmur rising

till it becomes a speaking tower.

garden turned to scrub:

its fever invents creatures

the mythologies later copy.

Adobe, lime and time:

the dark walls that are and are not.

Infinitesimal wondrs in their cracks:

the phantom mushroom, vegetable Mithridates,

the newt and its fiery breath.

I am inside the eye : the well where,

from the beginning, a boy is falling,

the well where I recount the time

spent falling from the beginning,

the well of the account of my account,

where the water rise

and my shadow falls.

Can I borrow a dollar?

... or to be more accurate can 1000 different people lend me a dollar, or if there is one really generous person out there that would make my day.

I will elaborate more with this evenings release of the long awaited columum:

I wanna be adored, or why selling my soul seems like a bad idea because the profit won't pay my student loans (or my bar bill)

Wine, Beer, and Guitar Hero

There has always been something interesting about the rock star image. Anyone who is not an athlete or a pure academic can completely agree with me when I make the falling obvious (and highly vapid and hopelessly pointless comment) "I want to fucking ROCK". My generation has been so comsumed with music it is impossible to live a single day without rocking out (and I probably do it more than most). When I was in high school having a discman and twenty cds was pretty bitching for most, I myself had upwards of 400 when i graduated (I worked at a cd store so just give me the benfit of the doubt, but yes I am that guy). Anyway, the point of this is that today only four years after my graduation, I do not have one friend who still uses a cd player, well maybe one, but everyone else I know has some sort of ipodesque music device (i myself have an 80gb, and that is not gloating, that is just an explanation of how fucked up I am in this mass media society that we live).

The reason for this post may not make much sense considering the wine and beer ( and beam,yes I am drinking beam, and the whiskey snobs that know me please dont judge me you know where I come from, and did I say how lame I am). The point of this comes from last night and tonight. I was playing guitar hero at two different places, with two different groups of friends, and the point is this: how in the fuck is any of this real rock n roll? I am pushing 5 buttons( okay only four because i suck too hard to play any level past medium), yet i feel like an axe weilding god, Hendrix will bow before me. I feel like a guitar God, for no real reason other than the fact that my star power has reached a level that makes the imaginary scene tell me that the crowd loves me. But isnt this how our life is. We consume, and consume and consume (today I bought a pair of Nike Air Zoom FC's, and if you know what they are you are equally as lame as I am, and probably equally as vapid and poor). I acknowledge that I consume, and consume, and consume, but i dont say that in a negative way, even though I mean it to be a negative thing, I view it as a positive. I have over 700 hundred cds and 200 vinyl, and and more music equipment such as instruments and random recording and playing devices. Why, because I want to rock!!!!!!!!

Now wanting to rock comes from a real and very important reason, the society that we live in has degenerated so far that it seems impossible to find any real enjoyment in anything that does not revolve around comsuming. I want to see a sunrise and feel the same way Neruda did when he wrote his poetry, or the way that anyone who crossed the great plains in the 1800's did when they first saw the Rockies, but if I went to the rockies today what would I see. A fucking starbucks and a banana republic. How is that fucking beautiful? So what other choice do I have, I am forced to live in a fantasy world if I want to view anything close to beauty. I delude myself with the consumation of clothing and music so that I can feel like a rock star. So what am I going to do now, I am going to crack another beer, grab the guitar hero controller and rock out in my head because that seems more real to me than whatever this is that we are in now. Star Power!!!

What the F@*# is this?

During a conversation concerning nothing in particular about absolutely meanings ramblings, which for some unknown reason seemed to be unreasonably tantalizing, I made a highly obvious statement, "What the fuck is this?"  Now this is not a new phrase to come out of my mouth and if you get to know me which is highly possible because I am not sure why anyway besides people that know me would waste their time reading a blog from an egotistical, pseudo-hipster (let be known, I probably would not befriend me if I knew me for reasons that should become clear).  But anyway, I use the phrase "what the fuck is this?" in almost every conversation but at this point it was probably one of the few times were I properly used this statement.  I have had just as many equally boring conversations about about unreasonably tantalizing, and absolutely meaningless topics as I have had about why I have these conversations and why in the hell I have them.  

The point was raised today by my much more interesting friend/hipness odometer what have you, that most of my cognitive capacity is filled with so much mindless and useless information (in any practical sense, and scoring high while playing couch jeopardy does not count).  His suggestion: each night before I go to bed write out, but really who writes anymore (besides that kid in your english class that can find a deep meaning in the most vapid works of spoken word poetry or possibly the newest 8.5 band on pitchfork, no one writes anymore, we jsut type, and if you saw my handwriting it would be blatantly obvious), all the things that i have learned that day, that will have no importance in my life and then I can erase it from my memory bank, in theory at least but let's be honest, I still won't forget it, I will just continue to remember it all and on top of it think about it more because I have created a new compulsive outlet in my life that no matter how much I deny it, I would scratch the paint of walls if I couldn't perform each night before staring at my wall for the next 7 hours.

Anyway, that is what this is, my outlet for all useless things.  This is probably enough for a flagship posting, but I should probably give some ideas of what I am going to be writing about in the future.  In no particular order:

-I wanna be adored, or why selling my soul seems like a bad idea because the profit won't pay my student loans (or my bar bill)

-Which is a sadder state, wanting to find some blow just to listen to coke addled music, or finding 80' manchester music inspiring and uplifting?

-Who the fuck runs across the "Eisenhower" (if you don't know what that is don't worry its not that important to the story)?

-Am I serious, or the sad state of affairs that would make one think so

These and many more will be coming soon, now I am going to go star at my wall for the next seven hours because I am really tired.