Where or when did things go wrong with America’s youth? I came to a decent coffee shop for once (not owned by a church) that seems cool and was cool even when I came here years ago. It’s still fairly cool, but seriously, I want my couch space. There are a few teenagers here, not drinking coffee of course. What happened to kids getting into trouble, or stealing candy? What happened to kids sneaking away to fuck, or drug addictions? I want my couch space damnit! Get out of here, you’re not buying anything anyway! Why aren’t they out screwing and snorting? What happened to the hay-day of youth?
Life for kids isn’t like that in the books I read or movies I watch, so what happened? Didn’t those kids grow up with the same things I did? Grant it I haven’t done any of those things (or have I?), this is a new generation. I’m an old man now, I need to realax, read a book, and get on the fucking internet while sitting on a comfortable couch.
I used to play with Legos, build things, play video games, and other childish things. I never sat around a coffee shop! What the hell? Kids in movies didn’t do that either. What, is this Friends? I fucking hate Friends.
Shit, I’m in a coffee shop doing the exact same thing.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Oh but plans can fall through as so often they do
Tentative plans:
I meet with an IUS advisor on Thursday and will schedule 2 classes here for the fall semester. I will then transfer to IU for the spring semester. There I will focus on a degree in Informatics and take random classes for photography and creative writing. I will find a cheap place, and work for the IT dept. at IU and make little to no money. I can be close enough to run home for major family disasters only. I should have no other reason to return to this obstacle of a town (unless I’m a complete and total failure as a student/person).
Possibilities:
Move to Minneapolis with my sister and be a normal human and do normal human things such as work in a restaurant and live in an apartment. This appeals to me since I’ve never done it before.
Find a Saves The Day or Morrissey friend to move somewhere with. Possible locations are: Seattle, NYC (expensive!), Portland, Chicago, etc. – This is highly improbable.
Stay here for another year and wait for one of my friends to graduate and move somewhere with one of them – Slightly improbable because I cannot stay in this place another year.
Certain impossibilities:
Write a book of my inner thoughts and have it published and be read by millions. Have a great apartment in NYC and perform at UCB once in a while.
Be on SNL.
Be a tour photographer for Morrissey.
Watch movies all day and not have to ever work again unless it’s something I want to do.
I meet with an IUS advisor on Thursday and will schedule 2 classes here for the fall semester. I will then transfer to IU for the spring semester. There I will focus on a degree in Informatics and take random classes for photography and creative writing. I will find a cheap place, and work for the IT dept. at IU and make little to no money. I can be close enough to run home for major family disasters only. I should have no other reason to return to this obstacle of a town (unless I’m a complete and total failure as a student/person).
Possibilities:
Move to Minneapolis with my sister and be a normal human and do normal human things such as work in a restaurant and live in an apartment. This appeals to me since I’ve never done it before.
Find a Saves The Day or Morrissey friend to move somewhere with. Possible locations are: Seattle, NYC (expensive!), Portland, Chicago, etc. – This is highly improbable.
Stay here for another year and wait for one of my friends to graduate and move somewhere with one of them – Slightly improbable because I cannot stay in this place another year.
Certain impossibilities:
Write a book of my inner thoughts and have it published and be read by millions. Have a great apartment in NYC and perform at UCB once in a while.
Be on SNL.
Be a tour photographer for Morrissey.
Watch movies all day and not have to ever work again unless it’s something I want to do.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Your taxi is here, my dear
I went to the midnight, well, 12:01 showing of The Dark Knight with my friends Jason and Sheldon. Jason and I had got our tickets earlier.
Shit, it’s lightning outside. I am outside. More to come later.
Alright, back home and inside.
As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Jason and I got our tickets on Wednesday night for screen 16. Sam had tickets for screen 1, as did everyone else I know that doesn’t talk to me or contact me. Sheldon hadn’t got his yet, but when he did it was for screen 2. However, the screen assignments didn’t matter to us. We went wherever we wanted. We started in screen 16, where the trouble began.
We chose three seats together that were conveniently located behind the most annoyingly homosexual young man in the world. He had no shoes, tight pants, massive lisp, and an ugly boyfriend. I have no problem with gay guys, but this kid was annoying as fuck. Even his friends were getting annoyed. It was only made worse by the beach balls flying around the crowd.
Yes, beach balls flying around in the movie theatre.
Jason and Sheldon went to go look in theatre 2 to see if it was as annoying as 16. After a few seconds I got fed up and went to find them. Screen 2 was like nobody was in there. It was so quiet, so peaceful, so small. It was half the size of the screen we were just in seconds ago. This annoyed us yet again, so we moved to screen one.
Screen one was about the same as 16, but with more people we knew. We were talking to a few people down in front when the beach balls started flying. One flew right to me and I grabbed it out of the air as if my life depended on it. Now that I had the ball I had a choice. Do I pop it? Do I deflate it? Do I throw it back? No, I throw it away from everyone, towards the exit. I was met with applause by the first 6 rows and met with boo’s from the very back. That’s where the douchebags who started this were. With all the cheers and the boo’s and the douchebags standing up yelling at me, I did the only logical thing I could think of doing. I raised both hands in the air, and flipped up both of my middle fingers to them. I have never had so much applause in my entire life. Every row up until the douchebags were cheering for me. I felt important. The best I’ve felt in my entire life.
And it was all ended when a little kid got the ball back into play.
If you ever want to feel empowered, I suggest you flip off an entire group of people waiting to see a movie. That’s what I did.
Shit, it’s lightning outside. I am outside. More to come later.
Alright, back home and inside.
As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Jason and I got our tickets on Wednesday night for screen 16. Sam had tickets for screen 1, as did everyone else I know that doesn’t talk to me or contact me. Sheldon hadn’t got his yet, but when he did it was for screen 2. However, the screen assignments didn’t matter to us. We went wherever we wanted. We started in screen 16, where the trouble began.
We chose three seats together that were conveniently located behind the most annoyingly homosexual young man in the world. He had no shoes, tight pants, massive lisp, and an ugly boyfriend. I have no problem with gay guys, but this kid was annoying as fuck. Even his friends were getting annoyed. It was only made worse by the beach balls flying around the crowd.
Yes, beach balls flying around in the movie theatre.
Jason and Sheldon went to go look in theatre 2 to see if it was as annoying as 16. After a few seconds I got fed up and went to find them. Screen 2 was like nobody was in there. It was so quiet, so peaceful, so small. It was half the size of the screen we were just in seconds ago. This annoyed us yet again, so we moved to screen one.
Screen one was about the same as 16, but with more people we knew. We were talking to a few people down in front when the beach balls started flying. One flew right to me and I grabbed it out of the air as if my life depended on it. Now that I had the ball I had a choice. Do I pop it? Do I deflate it? Do I throw it back? No, I throw it away from everyone, towards the exit. I was met with applause by the first 6 rows and met with boo’s from the very back. That’s where the douchebags who started this were. With all the cheers and the boo’s and the douchebags standing up yelling at me, I did the only logical thing I could think of doing. I raised both hands in the air, and flipped up both of my middle fingers to them. I have never had so much applause in my entire life. Every row up until the douchebags were cheering for me. I felt important. The best I’ve felt in my entire life.
And it was all ended when a little kid got the ball back into play.
If you ever want to feel empowered, I suggest you flip off an entire group of people waiting to see a movie. That’s what I did.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Not much of a posting
I really should be asleep right now, but I can’t help but think about how bad my last writing was. I can do better than that (I hope). Some things I was trying to remember during the day:
Nonchalant, but there is no “chalant”
I feel superior while in a meeting and someone’s cell phone rings loudly. Everyone else checks to turn theirs down in volume. I feel like I’m a better person than them because mine is always on silent. Fuck you all!
person 1: "Are those your five children?"
person 2: "No, those are 5 pictures of my son."
person 1: "I'm sure they'll are turn out to be fine adults."
Why do couples say they are “trying to have a baby”? Why not say, “We fuck the shit of each other all the time.”
I’m surprised I could remember all of that from today! Ok, I copied one from an e-mail I sent myself and one was from when I was in New York. Guess which was from today?
I got my Dark Night midnight showing ticket. Shouldn’t I be asleep by now?
Nonchalant, but there is no “chalant”
I feel superior while in a meeting and someone’s cell phone rings loudly. Everyone else checks to turn theirs down in volume. I feel like I’m a better person than them because mine is always on silent. Fuck you all!
person 1: "Are those your five children?"
person 2: "No, those are 5 pictures of my son."
person 1: "I'm sure they'll are turn out to be fine adults."
Why do couples say they are “trying to have a baby”? Why not say, “We fuck the shit of each other all the time.”
I’m surprised I could remember all of that from today! Ok, I copied one from an e-mail I sent myself and one was from when I was in New York. Guess which was from today?
I got my Dark Night midnight showing ticket. Shouldn’t I be asleep by now?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Each household appliance is like a new science in my town
Not even 24 hours back and I feel like I’ve never left. What a fucking vacuum. I’m feeling nothing.
And if the day came when I felt a natural emotion
I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump in the ocean
I’m still not sure if all these places and things are the same or not. I see plenty of different things but they all are alike anymore. Maybe there are different shapes, colours, sizes, feelings, but it’s all the same not matter where I am or am not. It’s just getting all too tiring. I feel like I should do something about it, but what can my measly little old self do about anything? I really can’t. Even if I wanted to, what would I do? I’m really not certain if I’m talking about a person, place, thing, or idea. Maybe it’s an animal, vegetable, or mineral? What is it that I’m complaining about so abstractly? Am I even complaining, or just describing? Is there really a difference in those? I could describe an orange, but there wouldn’t be much to determine whether I am describing the things I loathe about it or what it actually is.
The orange is round.
The orange is orange coloured.
The orange is sour.
The orange is healthy.
The orange is stringy.
The orange is falling from the tree.
I’m still not sure whether I hate oranges or not, but you’re not sure either. So there.
And if the day came when I felt a natural emotion
I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump in the ocean
I’m still not sure if all these places and things are the same or not. I see plenty of different things but they all are alike anymore. Maybe there are different shapes, colours, sizes, feelings, but it’s all the same not matter where I am or am not. It’s just getting all too tiring. I feel like I should do something about it, but what can my measly little old self do about anything? I really can’t. Even if I wanted to, what would I do? I’m really not certain if I’m talking about a person, place, thing, or idea. Maybe it’s an animal, vegetable, or mineral? What is it that I’m complaining about so abstractly? Am I even complaining, or just describing? Is there really a difference in those? I could describe an orange, but there wouldn’t be much to determine whether I am describing the things I loathe about it or what it actually is.
The orange is round.
The orange is orange coloured.
The orange is sour.
The orange is healthy.
The orange is stringy.
The orange is falling from the tree.
I’m still not sure whether I hate oranges or not, but you’re not sure either. So there.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Life is a pigsty
That was the most stubborn paper towel dispenser I’ve ever used.
I’ve been to the bathroom too many times to blow my nose. I must look like a coke addict going to the bathroom so much.
My aircraft is in range. MY aircraft!
I wish someone would have had a football or something. That would have been fun to pass the few hours I’ve been delayed. Maybe the people going to Charlestown had one. I listened in on some interesting (well, not very interesting) bar conversation in La Guardia airport. Delayed? Go drink.
A group of New Yorkers are going there for a wedding, a bunch of do’s guys kinda dudes. Also there were 2 college students. One guy who is majoring in history and has no idea about anything except strip clubs and shitty bars, and a girl who thought that guy was shitty and she was the best. She sucked, I could tell. She was an oversized blonde who seemed very uninteresting to me. She only spoke to me once. She saw my book and told me David Sedaris’s new one was not worth reading. I have even more doubt in her personality now, or is that possible? The two groups were discussing where the NYC guys should go when they are not at the wedding. It got boring, so I stopped listening.
I’m 2 Killian’s in to tonight. Was that worth $18? Fuck this shit. 30 minutes to go boarding? Who knows. Oh well.
There were gnats everywhere in that bar, except in my beer. I just swatted one away and I’m sitting at the gate. What is this?
When I checked my bag, I was looking through my receipts, then I heard “hey Morrissey,” the bag check guy was calling me. I couldn’t help but laugh. I bet Morrissey doesn’t get 2 hours delayed. I bet if he did, he would be in the corner over there with 2 body guards standing in front of him, blocking any view from on-lookers.
I have my NPR podcast to keep me company in this time of need. Life is a pigsty.
I’ve been to the bathroom too many times to blow my nose. I must look like a coke addict going to the bathroom so much.
My aircraft is in range. MY aircraft!
I wish someone would have had a football or something. That would have been fun to pass the few hours I’ve been delayed. Maybe the people going to Charlestown had one. I listened in on some interesting (well, not very interesting) bar conversation in La Guardia airport. Delayed? Go drink.
A group of New Yorkers are going there for a wedding, a bunch of do’s guys kinda dudes. Also there were 2 college students. One guy who is majoring in history and has no idea about anything except strip clubs and shitty bars, and a girl who thought that guy was shitty and she was the best. She sucked, I could tell. She was an oversized blonde who seemed very uninteresting to me. She only spoke to me once. She saw my book and told me David Sedaris’s new one was not worth reading. I have even more doubt in her personality now, or is that possible? The two groups were discussing where the NYC guys should go when they are not at the wedding. It got boring, so I stopped listening.
I’m 2 Killian’s in to tonight. Was that worth $18? Fuck this shit. 30 minutes to go boarding? Who knows. Oh well.
There were gnats everywhere in that bar, except in my beer. I just swatted one away and I’m sitting at the gate. What is this?
When I checked my bag, I was looking through my receipts, then I heard “hey Morrissey,” the bag check guy was calling me. I couldn’t help but laugh. I bet Morrissey doesn’t get 2 hours delayed. I bet if he did, he would be in the corner over there with 2 body guards standing in front of him, blocking any view from on-lookers.
I have my NPR podcast to keep me company in this time of need. Life is a pigsty.
The last night at the fair
I think my flight is delayed. I’m not really sure. I have my iPod playing and I’m not paying attention.
I’m out of New York City, unofficially. I’m in the airport, so there is no turning back. I liked it this time better than last time. Minus all the allergies I had from Jack being there. He’s cool though, so I didn’t mind too much. I think I was probably annoying from blowing my nose all the time and coughing and sneezing and such. Jack’s probably happy I’m gone. “That allergic bastard is outta here!” he’d say.
I really didn’t do too much while I was here, it was an ok vacation though. I got to go to UCB twice which was very much a great show every time. Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Seth Meyers, and Ian Roberts were in this one, among others who were funny as well. Sarah and I waited around to try to see if they would come out the front door. None of them did. Oh well. Maybe next time, or maybe I’ll meet them when I’m performing there with them (yeah, sure).
I’m still coughing. Snoting. Sneezing. Hacking. All those nasty human things. Why do people do that?
I’m still not sure if I want to move here or not. It’s very expensive, but what is money? I have that, well, now I do. If I move here I wouldn’t have as much, but what does that matter? I could see Assssscat every Sunday and go to a Morrissey/Smiths night right after. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. That happens in Louisville none at all. Never. Not at any time.
I’m going to hang out with Sam when I get back for a bit. I’m off tomorrow and he wants to go to MyBar. It’s a decent place in a shithole of a “town”. They still have their shitty little things, but it’s far more upscale (HAH!) than the other things that “town” has to offer. Oh well.
There may be more than 15 people on my flight back, not sure yet.
There is still dog hair on my laptop. I will get it off later, along with all the finger prints on the screen. I’ll fix that someday too. Maybe when I get my own laptop I’ll take more care of it.
The captain of another flight just informed the waiting passengers that they should go to the bathroom now, it’ll be a long wait on the runway. That’s somewhat funny. I guess. There is also a plane ready to “re-take off”. What?
It’s good that I never format this, it’d take away a little bit from the shittiness of it.
I’m out of New York City, unofficially. I’m in the airport, so there is no turning back. I liked it this time better than last time. Minus all the allergies I had from Jack being there. He’s cool though, so I didn’t mind too much. I think I was probably annoying from blowing my nose all the time and coughing and sneezing and such. Jack’s probably happy I’m gone. “That allergic bastard is outta here!” he’d say.
I really didn’t do too much while I was here, it was an ok vacation though. I got to go to UCB twice which was very much a great show every time. Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Seth Meyers, and Ian Roberts were in this one, among others who were funny as well. Sarah and I waited around to try to see if they would come out the front door. None of them did. Oh well. Maybe next time, or maybe I’ll meet them when I’m performing there with them (yeah, sure).
I’m still coughing. Snoting. Sneezing. Hacking. All those nasty human things. Why do people do that?
I’m still not sure if I want to move here or not. It’s very expensive, but what is money? I have that, well, now I do. If I move here I wouldn’t have as much, but what does that matter? I could see Assssscat every Sunday and go to a Morrissey/Smiths night right after. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. That happens in Louisville none at all. Never. Not at any time.
I’m going to hang out with Sam when I get back for a bit. I’m off tomorrow and he wants to go to MyBar. It’s a decent place in a shithole of a “town”. They still have their shitty little things, but it’s far more upscale (HAH!) than the other things that “town” has to offer. Oh well.
There may be more than 15 people on my flight back, not sure yet.
There is still dog hair on my laptop. I will get it off later, along with all the finger prints on the screen. I’ll fix that someday too. Maybe when I get my own laptop I’ll take more care of it.
The captain of another flight just informed the waiting passengers that they should go to the bathroom now, it’ll be a long wait on the runway. That’s somewhat funny. I guess. There is also a plane ready to “re-take off”. What?
It’s good that I never format this, it’d take away a little bit from the shittiness of it.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Please don't drop me home
I’m going to get a bagel in the morning. How cool is that?
I’m listening to the Morrissey concert from Hyde Park. It’s 1:43 am and I’m listening to the recording of it from earlier. I only heard a minute of the live feed before I had to go to Queens for a nice 4th of BBQ. It was cool there. I learned that the ribs I had were made with a glaze that included lemonade mix. Strange.
I feel ok here. I think I could do it. What is money for anyway?
I already have more here that at home, why return? Well, I did pay for the ticket roundtrip. Does it even matter?
I think tomorrow (well, today) I want to eat sushi, record shop, and go to Coney Island. I want to walk across the boardwalk. I don’t really have a reason, other than I saw it in the moving pictures.
I’ll keep it short, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I only wish someone would sing me to sleep.
I’m listening to the Morrissey concert from Hyde Park. It’s 1:43 am and I’m listening to the recording of it from earlier. I only heard a minute of the live feed before I had to go to Queens for a nice 4th of BBQ. It was cool there. I learned that the ribs I had were made with a glaze that included lemonade mix. Strange.
I feel ok here. I think I could do it. What is money for anyway?
I already have more here that at home, why return? Well, I did pay for the ticket roundtrip. Does it even matter?
I think tomorrow (well, today) I want to eat sushi, record shop, and go to Coney Island. I want to walk across the boardwalk. I don’t really have a reason, other than I saw it in the moving pictures.
I’ll keep it short, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I only wish someone would sing me to sleep.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
I left the south, I traveled north
There is no free wi-fi here. I am forced to either write or read a book. I’m currently reading Me Talk Pretty One Day, but I’m not in the mood for reading. I’m listening to a Morrissey concert from October 27, 2007, night 4 of the 5-night stand in NYC’s Hammerstein Ballroom. I was there. I was not, however, in the right side section (Julia’s side) where Mr. NritH recorded this show. Fine job, the audio is done quite well. Listening to it brings back some good times in my head. I’m going back today, not to that time, just to New York City. The place I didn’t like until my last day there. Weird, huh?
Jack The Ripper is the song that’s one right now. It’s one of the best versions of it I’ve ever heard. I should know, I’ve only seen it played about 16 times. A little crazy, right? The intro to it is great, so is the rest of it too. It is always such a great song to hear live, I do like the studio version better than the album version, but seeing it and feeling it and actually being there for it makes it a world and a half better. Especially when he opens with it. My friend April once told me it was very ballsy of him to open with it. Now I realize it really was! He opened with it when I went to LA, or, Moz Angeles. Now those were some great shows. I went all the way out there knowing not a sole (or soul) and ended up making quite a few friends.
8 times in LA, 5 in New York City, still never enough.
I’m only 10 songs into this recording. I listened to it on the way over here with my dad. Still not sure if he would like Moz or not.
The National Front Disco just came on. He’s got a lot of flack for this one, but I love it so much live. There’s so much that’s said, yet so much hidden. Could mean anything really, what is it to you? I think sometime when I’m drunk I could sing it, but it wouldn’t mean as much as it would if I were English. Not English like the way most American’s are, but the kind of English where you are actually from England, not from when my ancestors came over and murdered quite a few people to take this over. Reminds me of another Morrissey song, This Is Not Your Country. Also, it’s July 4 this week! Go celebrate your dependence.
I don’t know the name of our flight attendant, but I bet her name was Betty or something along those lines. Not very friendly, but she got me a Sprite in a timely manner and even got my cup thrown away before we were about to land. There were about 15 people on our tiny flying machine. Rather a small, uninteresting flight if you ask me. Not that you asked me, why would you have?
Wi-fi isn’t free here either.
I’m waiting on Carole and Sarah to pick me up here at baggage claim. I have claimed my bag, it’s mine, not anyone else’s. I’m fortunate that my aunt let me borrow it. Still, it’s mine. I was going to write something interesting about the flight, but I can’t remember and I really don’t give a shit. I’m here, that’s it, right?
Jack The Ripper is the song that’s one right now. It’s one of the best versions of it I’ve ever heard. I should know, I’ve only seen it played about 16 times. A little crazy, right? The intro to it is great, so is the rest of it too. It is always such a great song to hear live, I do like the studio version better than the album version, but seeing it and feeling it and actually being there for it makes it a world and a half better. Especially when he opens with it. My friend April once told me it was very ballsy of him to open with it. Now I realize it really was! He opened with it when I went to LA, or, Moz Angeles. Now those were some great shows. I went all the way out there knowing not a sole (or soul) and ended up making quite a few friends.
8 times in LA, 5 in New York City, still never enough.
I’m only 10 songs into this recording. I listened to it on the way over here with my dad. Still not sure if he would like Moz or not.
The National Front Disco just came on. He’s got a lot of flack for this one, but I love it so much live. There’s so much that’s said, yet so much hidden. Could mean anything really, what is it to you? I think sometime when I’m drunk I could sing it, but it wouldn’t mean as much as it would if I were English. Not English like the way most American’s are, but the kind of English where you are actually from England, not from when my ancestors came over and murdered quite a few people to take this over. Reminds me of another Morrissey song, This Is Not Your Country. Also, it’s July 4 this week! Go celebrate your dependence.
I don’t know the name of our flight attendant, but I bet her name was Betty or something along those lines. Not very friendly, but she got me a Sprite in a timely manner and even got my cup thrown away before we were about to land. There were about 15 people on our tiny flying machine. Rather a small, uninteresting flight if you ask me. Not that you asked me, why would you have?
Wi-fi isn’t free here either.
I’m waiting on Carole and Sarah to pick me up here at baggage claim. I have claimed my bag, it’s mine, not anyone else’s. I’m fortunate that my aunt let me borrow it. Still, it’s mine. I was going to write something interesting about the flight, but I can’t remember and I really don’t give a shit. I’m here, that’s it, right?
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