A Couple Role Models / Idols / Personal Heroes (real and fictitious)

• Andy Kaufman.
  
• Artie, The Strongest Man...In The World
  
• Jello Biafra.
  
• Lloyd Dobler.
  
• Roast Beef.
  
• Pauly Shore.
  
• Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
  and
  
• Wile E. Coyote.
  

Some sort of Inter-Net-Blog-Tag

Jake just "tagged" me with this survey. My first response was "Balls!" but then I read the survey and remembered surveys are really kinda fun to fill out, and switched my stance on the subject to "Neat!"
Here it is:

1) Total number of films I own on DVD / Video
My guess for DVD's would be nearing twenty, and I've got about seven on VHS.

2) The last film I bought:
Two today at Bullmoose Music: The Life Aquatic, and Masters of Shaolin: Breathing Fire, The Young Tiger and Snake & Crane Secret. (kung-fu classics).

3) Last film I watched:
It wasn't quite a film, but I watched a succession of episodes of The Adventures of Pete & Pete.

4) Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in noparticular order):
Fight Club
Holy God Damn Mind Fuck. This movie taught me how cool movies can be, and how much one movie can totally warp my perspective of cinema after seeing it. Most movies just don't compare to how hard I liked Fight Club. Sure, it has a freaky cult following, sure people argue the book was better. You know what I say? WHATEVER. This movie rocked and rolled me, and is possibly one of the greatest book-to-movie transitions OF ALL TIME. That's right, I'm that passionate.
Bitch.

Braveheart
Totally awesome. Totally epic. I hearted Mel Gibson so strongly for this masterpiece. Still gives me goosebumps. Straight truth.

Office Space
This movie speaks to my heart and soul. Not just through the comedy gold packed into, but it's deeper message speaking out against the corporate-business work world of our country fills my rebellious free spirit of laziness with pure glee.

American Beauty
Kevin Spacey. Sam Mendes. Pure brilliance, captured on film.

Orange County
Despite popular opinion, this movie actually rocks. Colin Hanks may not be as cool as his dad, but I totally dug the struggling writer plot, hilarious misadventure, Jack Black, Harold-Ramis-cameo, and happy resolution. Seriously, folks. It ain't as dumb as it looks. Rent. This. Film.

5) Tag 5 people and have them put this in their journal: [like anyone of these people actually read this -ed.]
Gyngell
Kace-Face
Owen
...
um...Annie...
and
Christopher. Yes. I know he reads this. He does. Ofcourse he does. ...

Yes. Good Day.

StatCounter, God Bless

Thanks to the beauty of websites such as StatCounter, it's been brought to my attention that my blog has been viewed over 100 times! Whoa!

In celebration, here are some facts:

- My blog has had 55 "first time visitors" and 28 "returning visitors"
- My blog reached the highest number of "returning vistors" in one day on Thursday, May 26th 2005. There were 7.
- 80% of my blog's visitors spend less than 5 seconds on the site.
- 11% of my blog's visitors spend over an hour on the site.
- All of my visitor's came from a "referring link" (the only two I know about are in my AIM profile and on Jake's Blog).
- 93 of all my visitors are from the United States, but there are only single visitors from Australia, the Russian Federation, Canada, the United Kingdom and Switzerland. (I know only one person from Switzerland: Owen)
- My second largest "returning visitor" has visited my site 6 times and is from Bates College. I do not know who it is. I have his IP address and know he uses Windows XP though.
- My first largest "returning visitor" is from the Midcoast area. I think I know who it is.

I now will try and figure out how to configure my User Stats into My Profile.

After I do my laundry.


DID YOU KNOW?: There is a "comment" option on my blog!

Maine Time is Cooler than Your Time.

This is really quite neat.

Whereas

The State of Maine lies wholly between 66° and 71° west longitude and it is the only state in the Union thus situated.

Resolved

The State of Maine shall have its own time zone to be known as Maine Time, which shall be four and one-half hours west of Greenwich Mean Time (GMT -04:30)

Maine Time is now:

5:28 PM, Friday, May 27, 2005
5:28 PM, Friday, May 27, 2005

I Love Bulleted Lists

AWESOME THINGS:

• Getting a check for $318.50 for 35 hours I don't remember working from the Theatre Department.
• Getting another check in the same envelope for $29.75 for 3.5 hours which I remember working.
• Getting another check for $250 for doing pre-camp work from my summer camp.
  
• Getting $20 in a Birthday Card from my grandmother.
• The Ability to Pay Off Bills finally.
  
• Regina Spektor will be playing a free show at the Bullmoose Music Warehouse in Scarborough, June 5th (or so Kacy tells me, I can't find any info online).
• Mindless Self Indulgence is playing at the State Theatre on June 4th. I plan to go with Trenton and Sukeforth.
• My birthday is June 7th.

and possibly cooler than them all...

• I downloaded Number Munchers!. You can get it HERE, not before downloading an emulator from HERE (I recommend DOSBox, which works fine on my Home PC, but you should choose whatever works best for you and your operating system).
  

I'm becoming a Math GOD!

Poetry, a Sign of Boredom.

I've posted once a day for the past five days.
I've done THE MATH:
Summer = Free time = Writing + DSL connection to The Internet = Blogging.

I climbed Mt. Tirem today. It took about ten to fifteen minutes. Excellent view though. I could see my house, Bear Mountain, Bear Pond, Hawk Mountain and Pleasant Mountain, home of Shawnee Peak Ski Resort. It was raining. It's been raining all this past week, and will continue raining all this next week.

As an example of my wasted time on the Inter-Net, here's some pure mindless drivel that leaked from my concious thought moments ago, like drool from a corner of the mouth of a sleeping fat kid in front of his television set. All hand still in his Cheese Puffs bad. All TV being the only light on in the room. All loud snoring over the boring infomercials on late at night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1,2,3 Haikus for Rain
by Travis H. Curran
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rain, rain, won't you stay
Make the days all wet and grey
Please don't flood my house.

Rain, rain, you're so great
In you, I dance and make out
Like in movie scenes.

Rain, rain, just don't stay
Forty days and forty nights
I don't have an Ark.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ode to Hoodie
by Travis H. Curran
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Navy blue, with
logo on breast
University of Southern Maine
My hoodie, you're the best.
You keep me warm when
I am chill.
You wipe things up
that I spill.
Every stain, every rip, every tear
Is a story, that I wear.
That weird piece of tape on my back
The weird hole by the neck
That time I used you to hold my bowl of really hot spaghetti
that I had burned in the microwave.
I'm going to throw the spaghetti out now
but it's stain will stay on your wrist.

You are my skin that won't heal.
You are my body that won't feel.
I've written my name on your tag
because I love you,
...You marvellous rag.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I may adjust the end part with the spaghetti to something more serious, like about being with me through hard times and cliche stuff like that, but I really did just burn spaghetti in the microwave and felt I had to share.

Thanks for listening, you kool kats. *bongo-drum fill*
Peace out, and keep it real. *group of people all snap their fingers*

For once, I am not mad at feminism.

Ladies, and Gentlemen,
Both of you
Pay close attention, for I have found

THIS!!!

"Men making a mess with their ejaculate is seen as unavoidable, normal, and is never questioned. It is even idolized in adult movies. Men can ejaculate on the face, in the mouth, and on and in the body of their partner and it is seen as normal. If a woman gets her body fluids on her partner that is another story, she has made a dirty mess. This is an interesting double standard. If a man can cover his partner with his body fluids, a woman should be able to do the same."

-----------

"Before a woman can learn to ejaculate, enjoy ejaculating, and enjoy sex in general she must accept her bodily fluids as normal. She must not question the nature or quantity of her wetness, be it sweat, vaginal lubrication, menses, ejaculate, or urine. These fluids are a normal and natural part of women's lives. There is nothing that is inherently bad about them. A woman cannot allow herself to ejaculate and experience potentially earth-shattering orgasms if she cannot let go when the pressure or urge to ejaculate arises. Ladies, give yourself permission to get wet and messy. Give yourself permission to have fun and enjoy sex."

-----------

"As a result of the taboos concerning female body fluids, the main motivation behind the studies into female ejaculation appears to be the determination of whether or not the expelled fluid is urine... Why this great importance over the exact nature of this fluid squirting from women's bodies? Does it really matter whether it is urine or ejaculate? If a woman gets a thrill out of squirting urine at the moment of orgasm, are we to say she has a problem? Do we mean to take this pleasure away from her? If a woman squirts urine at the moment of orgasm, let her, if she ejaculates uncontrollably, so be it! It is not our place to judge a woman's sexual pleasure."

From the book A New View of a Woman's Body
Copyright 1981, The Federation of Feminist Women's Health Centers
Illustrated By: Suzann Gage, L Ac, RNC, NP

I'm not a pervert. I just believe in Equal Rights for Women.

The Best Picture of Me On the Internet

Click to Enlarge.

I'm on the right.

He is Bobby Byrd, of How's Your News? and is famous.

Her name is iSabelle and don't judge us.

GOOD EVENING INTER-NET WORLD. TONIGHT I AM COME TO YOU THROUGH MY iBOOK. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME MY iBOOK HAS BEEN ONLINE SINCE COLLEGE GOT OUT. I AM PLEASED WITH THIS.

Since I have a crush on Safari. Fastest web-browser ever. Not as flashy and fancy and user-friendly as Mozilla Firefox, which I still hold a candle for, but it's seriously my favorite Application on my Hard Drive right now. So sleek and quick and neat. My home PC unit still rocks the Fox like a straight-up playa, so I can get my fix of playing around with the fun extensions. A nice set up.
What I need badly now is the Airport Wireless hardware for my iBook, so I don't have to worry about messy cables, or setting up accounts with local area servers or any of that nonsense. Just find a pretty Wi-fi server and go with the flow. I don't have anywhere near the wallet for the Airport Base Station but it's a possible future investment. Distant future,

So I hear it's the new "thing" to name your Hard Drive. Is this true? Does a Hard Drive need personality? By what criteria should you name it? I'm not sure I quite get it, but I've renamed the "Macintosh HD" icon on my Desktop to be: Macintizzle H-Dizzle.
You know, something to get started with. Maybe I'll give it a personal real name, like Jeremy, or something, and refer to my iBook as "Jeremy" from then on. Would that be weird? What if it were a girl's name, and I were to pretend to be in a relationship with it?
Okay. That is weird.

I mean, I love my iBook just as much as the next Mac junkie would. I've been slowly converted to the Apple religion since owning it. I'm even starting to get some tech-geek stuff down. Not too much though, I'm not ashamed to admit to running to more OSX-savvy friends for tech support.

One thing I don't like about my iBook would be the keyboard. It's too easy to break the keys. Within hours of owning my iBook, I got a finger underneath the "T" key during some intensive typing and it's been loose and on the verge of snapping off since. The letters on the keys also rub off with time. Seriously, my "L" is only a portion of the bottom line and my "O" looks like a retarded "C". Ridiculous. The other letters are holding up though.
Another thing would be the casing. Pretty, white, reflective. All surface appeal. After months of owning my lovely laptop, the casing has stains and smudges that are difficult to remove, the screen is always dusty or marked somehow. After too many dings and scratches and such, I may just go with Corey Anderson's plan with his laptop and just modge-podge it straight to hell.

I haven't gotten to that point though. Not yet. iSabelle and I will be just fine together for the time being. I love iSabelle and don't want her to change. Not yet.

Parting gift: Possibly the funniest god damn Achewood strip both in and out of context.

Tonight.

My stepfather told me I could have a beer tonight. My mother disagreed but he persisted and she gave. I instead had a Diet Coke, though. I like the taste for some reason unrelated to unhealthy sugar-substitutes. He's gone to bed now, and the twelve-pack of Heineken sits on the counter. Only one is missing. He told me I could have one. Heineken's are tasty. Better tasting than Diet Coke. He was pretty drunk when he told me I could have one. He's gone to bed now. I'm thirsty.

What the hell. I've added up the facts and decided to have one.

So now I'm in front of my home computer, about to drink some imported lager beer, my brother behind me being the God of Halo 2 he is, and myself writing on my internet blog that StatCounter tells me the majority of people who've been to this site spend less than five seconds viewing. This only means to me that I shouldn't have to worry about impressing anybody with the content here. I am a writer. This is my lament.
(the title of my blog makes sense to me right now).

I spent most of today in a car seat. I slept and read. I visited relatives I haven't seen in decades and won't see for at least a decade more. It was my grandmother's birthday. She is 80. I spent most of the time at the party watching movies on cable, inventing a secret handshake with my brother, and not thinking about what a scary number 80 is.
I'm 19 in two weeks.
My dad and his girlfriend wanted to drive down the coast on the way back from Bangor. I slept on the way to Camden, but Dad woke me up when we got there. I saw a pretty mountain behind a harbor filled with large beautiful schooners. It was raining. Fletcher and I walked down the pier a bit, looking at the boats. I heard Camden was really pretty and I agree. I want to go back and see it again sometime soon.

Dad forgot that Camden was very far away from anything he could recognize or know the way to, so we took a bit longer than expecting getting to Portland. It kept raining, and I read a good chunk of Siddhartha while listening to a randomized selection of songs from The Mountain Goats, The Decemberists, Iron & Wine and The Weakerthans. The book made me think a lot, and I was able to see passing glances of the Maine Coast out my rain-streaked window. It was very dark though. Almost like I was having a bad dream about the coast. It wasn't so bad though. I've always liked the rain.

Fuck, this bottle cap isn't a twist-off.

Siddhartha made me think about a lot. Like why people value material possesions so much, and how just one man can change his lifestyle drastically so many times in his life. How do people really understand themselves? How important is money, or sex? What do you really accomplish in life? [Travis finds a bottle-opener] There's a lot of questions out there. Siddhartha, in the book, hasn't answered too many of them yet. I was really scared that he was going to stay with Kamaswami and living like that, and it would end in tragedy. I had gotten so wrapped up in reading I had forgotten all the pages that still lay before me. I liked Kamala, and hope he sees her again. I was really glad he saw Govinda again. I'll read more before going to bed I think.

an excerpt from Siddhartha:

"My dear Kamala," said Siddhartha, "when I came to you im your grove I made the first step. It was my intention to learn about love from the most beautiful woman. From the moment I made that resolution I also knew that I would execute it. I knew that ou would help me; I knew it from your first glance at the entrance to the grove."
"And if I had not wanted?"
"But you did want. Listen, Kamala, when you throw a stone into the water, it finds the quickest way to the bottom of the water. It is the same when Siddhartha has an aim, a goal. Siddhartha does nothing; he waits, he thinks, he fasts, but he goes through the affairs of the world like the stone through the water, without doing anything, without bestirring himself; he is drawn and lets himself fall. He is drawn by his goal, for he does not allow anything to enter his mind which opposes his goal. That is what Siddhartha learned from the Samanas. It is what fools call magic and what they think is caused by demons. Nothing is caused by demons; there are no demons. Everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goal, if can think, wait and fast."
Kamala listened to him. She loved his voice, she loved the look in his eyes.
"Perhaps it is as you say, my friend," she said softly, "and perhaps it is also because Siddhartha is a handsome man, because his glance pleases women, that he is lucky."
Siddhartha kissed her and said good-bye. "May it be so, my teacher. May my glance always please you, may good fortune always come to me from you!"

Fletcher had some temporary tatooes of the Fantastic Four logo, for the upcoming movie. The movie looks exciting and fun, and by no means "good" at all. No quality, just a fun time at the movies. Explosions, scantily clad women, stupid jokes. I'm pumped. Fletcher and I made up super-powers for each other, after we put the tatooes on our biceps. I'd have the ability to convert my body into electricity, and I could enter and control all electrically-powered devices, like Electro from the Spiderman comics. Fletcher wanted to be Sandman, but before deciding on that, he thought about being Skunkman. Like Chucky, from that episode of Rugrats. We're both pretty big dorks.

It's late. Heineken is tasty. Fletcher wants the Internet, so he can pwnzzorz teh n00bz and be teh l33t on Halo 2. I've seen him do it. I'm going to go read some. I hope it rains more tomorrow.
Goodnight, Internet.

[this blog entry brought to you in the style of Christopher Onstad, Genius and Cartoonist.]

The Experience:
I went to a rock concert, and had an absolutely spectacular time.

The Last Time This Happened:
Over the college year, I'd primarily only gone only to Apollo Sunshine concerts with Erik, my roommate. Apollo Sunshine is a rock band out of Boston, and they are literally mind-blowing. Please listen to them. Scratch that, see them. It is a life-changing experience. The actual last concert I went and saw though was State Radio at Plymouth State College. How's Your News and Throwback opened. Chad, of State Radio, formerly of Dispatch, is also part of How's Your News and writes their music. How's Your News? is a band of mentally and physically challenged people of varying ages and disabilities. They all sing, only one of them plays an instrument, which is Jeremy, who is better at drums than most non-retarded people I know. (How's Your News?, aside from being a good band, are also a man-on-the-street news show, who attended both parties National Conventions, interviewed John McCain, Michael Moore and Senator John Kerry.) The concert was awesome. The audience loved How's Your News? a lot and State Radio even more. I had a great time.

But Yet, Today:
I went to The Station in Portland to see Murder by Death and Against Me!. I went with Kacy Woodworth, Benjamin Crockett, and Kristen Onos. Kacy paid for me to get in. I saw a bunch of people I knew, including the Mysterious Cute Girl I met at Gay Prom. Cosades, a band featuring Chris Boivan on drums, opened. Chris Boivan is great on drums, and lived in my residence hall. After Cosades, Murder by Death played. I got as close as I could to the stage but it was very crowded. I had a decent view though. Murder by Death's name is misleading, for they are not heavy metal or obnoxiously loud or evil at all. They are really pretty mellow if you listen to their albums. They have a cellist, and she is beautiful, and plays beautifully. Their set was quite awesome and louder and more rocking than I had thought it would have been, but I'm not complaining. Some stupid kids moshed. When they were finished, I got as close to the stage as I could, since it was not very high and I desperately needed to see Against Me! as close as I could. I got to a decent place amongst other tightly-packed bodies that swayed and listed like a ship in the wind. I was sweating gallons before they even took the stage, and when they did, there was a mighty surge in the sea of people around me and I was pressed into a firmly locked location next to this large strong dude with an attitude.
Against Me!'s set was fucking awe-striking. If you do not know their sound, they are by my own definition the coolest thing to happen to punk rock since The Dead Kennedies. I sang, scream, shouted, and breathed as heavily as I could when I wasn't singing, screaming or shouting. It was difficult maintaining my spot, but luckily I sort of hung on to the strong asshole dude when he pushed himself to the front. At one point, I left my leech-like stance on the guy and ended up one body away from the barrier in front of the band. I could reach and touch Andrew, the bassist. Thomas was screaming almost directly into my face. As they began "Pints of Guiness Make You Strong" I just about lost control of myself, and whilst screaming the lyrics with all my heart and soul, I may have spat on him. Andrew, I'm sorry. Forgive me please.
After my stint at the front of the madness, I dropped back a bit and ended up in the pit. Mosh pits can be kinda fun in an outrageous goofy way, so I did my part, but ended up helping someone up, getting knocked over, and having my genitalia stepped on. Not cool. I hauled myself to the bathroom to take a damage report and hydrate some. Everything was in it's right place and I didn't pee blood, so I returned to the concert. I found Kacy sitting on the countertop thing along the side next to the stage somewhat and I moved to her. I was covered from head to toe in my own and many other's sweat and body odor, so I cleared a path not unlike Moses with the Red Sea. Kacy was a happy girl sitting up high with a great view and singing with her soul. I jumped up to sit on the counter next to her and hit my head on a hanging glass lampshade light thingy, and it shattered. I could hardly feel it, my adrenaline and senses were so distorted and ruptured. No blood though. I recharged a bit, then hopped back down into the mess of people for the end of their set. Naturally, they came back. They encored with some new song I hadn't heard, and then "Walking is Still Honest" and I went nuts.
(I saw some girl half-crowd surf and land headfirst in the pit. I grabbed her shoulders and some other fellow helped me get her on her feet. She commenced dancing and singing immediately, showing she was okay. That's when I noticed it was Kacy.)
After the end, I went outside to find it hinting at rain slightly. I cooled down, talked to some peers, looked for some people but didn't find them, found some other people, my ride, and we left. My shirt was drenched, so I took it off and put on my dirty USM hoody. We stopped at Friendly's. Kacy and Kristen had ice-cream, Ben had some sandwich and let me have his waffle-fries and I had some water too. I manned the I-pizzle and DJed a bit on the way home. I got in at about 12:30 and revelled in the experience.

How is it Different to Attend a Concert, Now vs. Then:
I was a lot less excited at the State Radio show, but still danced a bunch, only Erik wasn't there to be an asshole about it. There weren't any retards, and I didn't get a free shirt, and the nonexistant retards didn't sign the shirt I didn't get. I sang a lot though, and felt pretty cool afterwards both times. I'd also like to think I'm a lot cooler of a person now than I was then though, despite the short amount of time. My coolness matures quickly, I think. ...

What I am Going to Do Tomorrow:
Tomorrow is sort of today now, so today, I'll sleep. Wake up, be driven to meet my Dad somewhere in the Lewiston/Auburn area, be driven by him to see my grandmother in Bangor, and sleep on the way there, probably with my minni-I-pizzy. See my grandmother, talk about how I made Dean's List and about the play I was in, joke with my brother when the 'rents aren't paying attention, then drive back, and sleep on the way as well.
Tomorrow Night: Open and Free, like a bird, and the wind.



[Onstad totally did it cooler.]

Zen and the Art of Travis Rambling

Now most people would look down on a college student on summer vacation returning to his high school to sit in on classes, flirt with girls, and have intellectual discussions. But not me. I learned some things yesterday, and if it's the price I must pay for expanding my mind, I'd gladly be called a loser.

I woke up early, running on two hours of sleep and more caffeine than the healthy amount that should be taken. Drove in to the school with Job, who was moderately pissed at me for not washing the dishes the night before. At school, I saw some old friends and socialized a bit, but quickly had to dodge some administrative figures and make my way to the classroom of Hank Burns' Advanced Placement English course. I never took AP English my senior year, even though it was accredited as the class to take your senior year. I, instead and not by choice, took a lower-level course which actually had a reading list I really was excited for. Unfortunately, my classmates were zombies who never heard of "class discussion" or the "art of discourse." I ended up meeting Hank Burns and befriending him to the point where I would eat lunch with him and some students from his class, dubbed "AP Lunch." I ended up reading all the AP English books and discussing them with Hank during lunch and I impressed him enough to have him invite me to sit in on some AP English classes.

I hated the classes. The "discussion" consisted of people sharing thoughts, others shooting those thoughts down and berrating them, then only to pitch their own opinionated ideas and have others disagree. It was more disagreement than discourse and it made me uncomfortable.

But now, being the ultra-cool graduate I am, I can return to school and sit in on an AP class of kids who are not exactly my peers but still intelligent people, and actually talk, debate and learn something. This is what I've done over the past vacations I've had and this is what I did yesterday.

The class had just read Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse. I haven't read this book, so I stole it after the class was over. I won't detail everything that took place within the two class periods I sat through, then the three lunch periods following, but I'll summarize what I took with me from them:

The concept of Self can be divided into two basic parts: A and B, I'll call them for now.
A is your rational thought process, the part of you that thinks, monitors, evaluates, calculates, understands, worries, critiques, etc. It's your Mind. Frued's Super-Ego. Knowledge. The example used in class was when you are playing a sport, it's the tiny voice in your head that tells you to focus, concentrate, not to mess up, and will in most cases make you mess up.
B is what you feel and experience. It's your senses, your emotions, your basic instincts, your gut feelings. It's the Body. Frued's Id. Wisdom. It's the part of you that knows basic pleasures and understands what you morally feel is right and wrong. The example in class was the person playing the sport not needing to think about it and just doing it well, naturally.
Ofcourse not everyone plays sports, but it applies to most things we do, like math, dancing, writing, driving, even lovemaking. A and B are both in your head and sometimes one's in control and sometimes the other is. Then there are those moments when everything just gells and you understand. Your mind subconsciously figures out what needs to be figured out, and is clear and your body does what you need to do to and it's practically instinctual. You make the perfect pitch, you solve the difficult equation, you find exactly the right words to write, or say. You understand.

This is: C. The combination of A and B. The Moment of Zen, according to Buddhists.
I termed things using Freud's super-ego and id, which does make sense but not in the context of one person using C to do something, but more in the context of one person thinks and lives is his Ego (C) being his balance of A and B. We're always in a state of C, but it's based on degrees determined by the balance of A and B. When you're spending too much time thinking, and muddling yourself with confusion, you're a bit too A. When you're spending too much time doing, and making rash decisions without considering consequences, you're a bit too B. You need to reach the C, the Middle Path, both Yin and Yang.

You could label A and B in any context you'd like, be it philosophy, psychology, religion, or even the left and right sides of our brains. Wherever I look, I can see two seperate sides to most things, and the middle which is difficult to reach. I'm not pretending to be Buddhist or anything of that sort, just taking it all into consideration and thinking it through.

In today's society, in America's culture, we are all too A-based. We are all pressured to focus on the preparation of the next step of our lives. Be it our careers, our education, etc. We all constantly have something to worry about in our future, and there's no time to relax and be happy. Ofcourse, it's part of our nature to worry, to be A, so it's not like we're ever going to find true happiness, or absolute certainty in anything. These days though, everything's too extroverted, and there's not enough introversion.

Okay, nevermind. I stopped making sense to me. I need more B in my life and less A though, to help me find C. Hopefully, this book can help.

Dizzle Vizzle in da Hizzle, Y'all.

Imagine the neurons in your brain that fire up with electricity when your brain makes connections and is working very fast cause a bright flash of light. Now picture the non-stop fireworks grand finale going on inside of my head as I was sitting in the theater watching Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Let's go even further. Pretend every flash of light, every wattage of brain activity travelling through my neurons, created the sensation of a full-blown orgasm to the tenth power. Yup. I was feeling that too. Everywhere.

Being the tremendous Star Wars fanatic that I am, I had a suspicion that this movie could not have gone wrong for me. I knew how the story was going to go, because I've already seen the sequel to this film somewhere in the range of 250-300 times. I knew which characters were going to live, which characters were going to die, etc. Some might say the movie was ruined for me already, but to these some, I say nay. I wanted to see these events transpire, I wanted to know how some of things happened that I knew would happen. In fact, my life may have been a long torturous existence filled with despair if I did not see this closing chapter that transitioned into one of the greatest movie trilogy's I've ever known.

Unfortunately, no movie is ever perfect. Neither was this one.

___________________________________
WARNING: SPOILERS
___________________________________

The Wookies.

I was flipping out when I first heard the Jedi Council just mention Kashyyyk. When I saw the first Wookie we all see, Tarfful, boarding a ship with Yoda, I almost crapped my pants. Then the battle on Kashyyyk, with the Wookies fighting alongside the Clone Army against the Seperatist's Droid Army, I was close to tears. We saw some Wookies being badass, some shots fired, and then BANG. Cut to next scene. I was so totally blue-ballsed with the Wookies. I wanted more badass Wookie action, and I didn't get to see it. I wanted them to be badder than bad, and it just didn't happen.

Chewbacca.

SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN IN THIS MOVIE. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to see him. He was standing around with Tarfful, looking important. It was cool to see him give Yoda a piggy-back ride. It was cool to hear Yoda say his name. But that summed up his involvment with this film. He was pointless. Wait, nevermind. His point was to make me ask "Hold on, if Chewbacca is an important part of Wookie Government or something, then how does he meet up with Han Solo in the very-near-future and decide to start illegally smuggling things across the galaxy with him?" George just wanted him to make people happy to see him and little else. Totally pointless to me.

Yoda.

I was pleased Lucas's choice to turn Yoda from comic relief into wise mentor in the first trilogy, then to complete badass Jedi in the newer movies. He's a totally awesome character, and he knocked two of the Emperor's Elite Guards unconscious just by shrugging. But Goddammit Lucas, does he have to say every goddamn thing backwards? Watch Empire again. No, no he doesn't. His dialogue just got fucking ridiculous in this film. And you would think the fight between the Galaxy's two most powerful users of the Force would have lasted a bit longer. It was still mad impressive though.

Mace Windu.

Mace Windu is played Samuel L. Jackson. That has to tell you something right there. Samuel L. Jackson requested to have his character's lightsaber be purple. There's something else right there too. Mace Windu is second in command of the Jedi Order, under Yoda. With all this in mind, it's pretty obvious that Mace Windu must be one ill Jedi motherfucker. Given, he was going up against the Dark Lord of the Sith, but still...with three other Jedi, I was in high hopes of an amazingly cool battle royal. I wanted more, once again. Come on! He's Sammy LJ! Let him at least put up a fight.

General Grievous.

I was very impressed with this villian. Dooku was old, and while kinda creepy, still unintimidating. Maul was pretty badass, but he was also in Episode I and that dragged him down. They got it right with Grievous. A hunched cyborg with a cape and a bad cough that is the General of the Droid Army, has badass droid bodyguards, and likes to kill Jedi. He also has four arms, wields four lightsabers and is scarier than Darth Vader. He almost killed Obi-wan. He was pretty fucking cool.

Padme Amidala.

Why does she always have to dress weird? Did you see what she was wearing in bed with Anakin? Did you see what she was wearing while she was pregnant? Natalie, honey, I love you, but what exactly was going on there? She looked prettiest when she was dead.

Darth Vader.

He was only suited for a brief amount of the movie, but I think something could have been better. His whole Frankenstein-walk-screaming-"Noooo!" thing would have been much cooler if he didn't do it at all. If I were George Lucas, and I wish I was about once a day, I would have just made him ask about Padme, and in response, not say anything. Just crush everything around him with the Force and kill all the droids and people around him. When I saw the first movies, it was my understanding that everything human and moral in Vader had been destroyed by the Dark Side, that is, until Luke cries like a girl and changes his mind. When he screamed like that, it ruined the dark, silent, cold killer I knew Vader was going to be.

Anakin Skywalker vs. Obi-wan Kenobi.

Loved it. Every second of it. Want to see it again. Now.

I loved this movie. It was spectacular. The cinematography, the choreography, the plot development. It blew me away. These were just a couple of things that jerked my disbelief out of suspension, along with the dialogue, but I wasn't expecting too much there.
My friends and I drove two hours to get to the theater, bought our tickets and waited four hours till the clock struck 12:01 and it began. It was damn worth it, believe you me.

I'm going to see it again. No doubt about it.

List and Notes.

A List of Things I've Accepted That I'll Never Be Good At:

• Maintaining financial stability.
  
• Opening child-safety locks on medicine bottles.
  
• Basketball.
  
• Impressing women.
  
• All mathematics above long-division.
  
• Taxes.
  
• Starting and maintaining a wood-stove fire.
  
• Finishing a work of art.
  
• Deep-sea diving.
  
• Not embarassing myself.
  
• Taking initiative.
  
• Living up to my expectations.

This just in: I need to take out an 8,000 dollar Student Loan for next year. Fantastic.

note to self: Don't worry about debt until after college. And have a happy carefree summer.

Noted.

Honesty's Absence in our Culture.

In my short time home, I've managed to find one of my long lost companions, Aaron Gomez, a jovial Puerto-Rican fellow who spent all last year in Alaska with his father. Aaron and I don't really go way back, but back far enough. We work at the same summer camp and have shared many an awesome adventure. Once upon a time we wrote scripts for three episodes of a sitcom that thankfully have been lost in time, but we shall perhaps collaborate again, once I get the green light from the camp director to write the play for the summer.

This is not about him though. It's about the tail-end of a movie I watched when I went to his house to find him. He and his (rather cute) cousin were watching Liar, Liar on the television on some cable network. That was unfortunate because they edited out some great content, but it was fortunate I saw it, because it really is a nicely done movie and not just a generic watch-Jim-Carrey-do-stupid-things movie. Anyways, onwards...

How honest are you? Think about it. I'm willing to bet you've lied within the past twenty-four hours, if not two hours. People these days just lie a lot. I do it too. I lie to convenience myself, and what I believe to be conveniencing others, from either a harsh brutal truth or an awkward embarassing one. Sometimes, I lie without ever having too, because I've conditioned myself so. I don't know about all of you, but that depresses me something awful.

So what can I do about this? Is there anything I could do to help myself and others to lead more honest lives? In these past few months I've realized that being honest and straightforward is really not as difficult as I made it out to be. It's actually kind of rewarding, to know that you stepped forward and let the truth stand beside you, erasing all the dark murky icky feelings that are buried deep within when you know that you've kept from being honest for the sake of yourself or even others.

I tend to write on myself a lot. To-Do lists, or things I need to remember. Sharpie, or any kind of (non-toxic, so shut up about ink poisoning) markers of any colors. I don't have much to write down now, these carefree days at home, where plans are made on a whim and schedules are mere abstractions.

I think I might keep tally marks along my wrist-forearm of how many times I lie in a day. I won't tell anyone, the few that actually read this won't be affected or could interfere. Maybe I'll suprise myself by how many, or how few, marks I'll make. This might get messy.

Your/(My) Homework: Find a cooler plan to make people more honest.


Another cool idea from a movie: Pay It Forward.

I'd like to try that one too someday, but these days, there aren't too many incredibly nice things I could do for somebody. I'm limited to mowing my lawn and paying gas money.

And on a different note: I hate the concept of money.
more on that later....maybe....

I was reminded of my heterosexuality.

As of yesterday, I am no longer a resident of Robie-Andrews Hall at the Gorham Campus of the University of Southern Maine. I've relocated to a discreet inconspicuous farmhouse hidden away in the hills of Waterford, ME. And frankly, it makes me sad. I miss my floor incredibly. My home is there, not here. Here, a desolate area where great distances must be travelled to take part in adventures (and gas prices suck assballs hard), but there, adventure could be found at every turn of the hallways. So many different people, teenagers and young adults, all living and thriving within the same walls. Like an ant-farm almost, except that is a depressing metaphor, and Robie-Andrews is/was a very happy place. For me, at least. Anyways, I am home now, and in need of some adventure to make this day worth something to me.

BUT I had an adventure yesterday. And, ofcourse, I'm sharing it:

After quickly packing and exiting my beloved haven, myself and the three compadres of mine that came to fetch me, Ben, Chris, and Travis (Trav #2, for I am Trav #1), and I headed to the Maine Mall. We had plans to meet someone there and had time to kill.

(Sidenote: on leaving my hall, a fellow on the floor called Pont presented me with a Nalgene bottle as a going-away present. The contents of the bottle, only filled a quarter of the way up, where what he said to be "Ice 101 mixed with orange something". "Ice 101", for those who are not alcoholics or college students, is 101-proof Peppermint Schnapps. I've never had it before, but it did not taste very strong. It, in fact, tasted delicious. I wasn't going to be driving at any point on my journey and would not actually arrive home until the next day. I made the executive decision to drink it all on the way to the mall.)

At the mall, we did some typical wandering and stopped by some routinely visited stores, such as Spencer's Gifts, Brookstone, KB Toys, Electronics Boutique, etc. I was feeling in quite a good mood, and enjoying myself immensly, to the amusement of my friends. The euphoric effect on my brain wore off while eating some McDonald's in the food court and conversing with some adolescents who were going to their high school prom later that evening.
At this point, I'd like to reveal that the reason we were at the mall was to meet several people I went to high school with, who, with us, were all going to attend the Outright Gay Prom at the Holiday Inn in Portland. Outright is a social community that puts on events for the Gay/Straight/Bisexual/Transexual/Etc. kids in Maine. It's pretty cool. I'm 100% heterosexual and 0% homophobic and 100% comfortable going to this event, as were my friends. Except Nate, who was taking his boyfriend.
But first, we ate.

We went to Bangkok, Thai foods. At least, I believe it was called that. We had to take our shoes off to sit down and Nate knew everything on the menu. Naturally, I was poor-ass broke. So were my comrades. Kaitlynn was nice enough to order some Fried Calamari, which she kindly shared with me. I met Nate's boyfriend, Nate, (ha), who talked to me about the reasons for his dress. Societal boundaries created comfort zones for people, where in their own seperate groups they felt more accepted. Some people rejected these boundaries and would dress however they wanted, but for people like Nate & Nate, they felt more accepted and comfortable dressing in typical "gay fashion", just as how not all African Americans dressed "ghetto" but most did, because they felt more comfortable that way. People feel most comfortable when they feel understood. Ofcourse, no one's understoof. My personal example in this case would be that I think my appearance gives off the "college student hipster" look, so I think people define me as that upon seeing me. I don't know that for certain, but it's my best guess. I'm comfortable being categorized as that. Okay, stupid tangent, back to story.

After dining, we walked through the Portland streets to the Holiday Inn. I had only one dollar to donate to the Outright representatives at the door, but I gave them my name and address (you had to sign in for them to mark your hands) and told them I supported their group and appreciated their postive influence on our local Maine community. Not quite in those words though. The room where it was being held looked frighteningly like the venue for both my prom experiences from high school. The dance floor, the lights, the dining tables, the refreshments. The only difference was instead all of the clique-y ignorant airheads of my graduating class dancing and milling about, there were a multitude of people who you would feel guilty about staring at if you saw them on the street. Overweight girls making out. Guys in flamboyant dresses. Piercings, tattoos, crazy "punk rock" hairstyles. Kids who were definitely treated differently then the other kids they went to high school with.

The first thing I immediately noticed was how comfortable everyone was. No one felt awkward or insecure at all about their image or appearance, possibly due to the fact there were people there taking the same image to the extreme. I saw some people who were still going to my high school and we sat down. I was introduced to a pre-op M2F transexual named Matthew or Sarah "whichever you are most comfortable with" he informed me. I, in jest, referred to him as "Sarathew" but I don't think it amused him, so I apologized. He said it was fine, since he still had a penis and predominantly male features it was understandable for people to think his desire to be a female as half-hearted or shallow.
I was quickly swept to the dance floor then by Kaitlynn, who demanded a "straight boy" to dance with. I'm not always comfortable about dancing around people, especially to hip-hop, but considering the crowd I decided to squelch my inhibitions. I like to dance. I had fun. Ben and Chris and Travis joined and I remarked to myself about how this prom was so much cooler than the one my school had put on. A couple of outrightly homosexual fellows began to dance with Chris and Ben, but they were cool about it and the fellows got the picture that they were straight soon enough. I noticed and eyed some pretty girls I saw all dancing with each other, but their sexual stance was up in the air, since they were at Gay Prom.

The DJ, a stocky woman with short bleached hair, then announced this next song as her graduating classes prom theme from way back, and the music switched from popular hip-hip/rap/r'n'b, to Limp Bizkit's "It's Just One of those Days". The crowd appreciated this. While I hold Fred Durst no higher than most leeches and ticks, I still promptly banged my head, threw up the horns, and jumped up and down like a lunatic. One of the girls I had been eyeing joined in. A mosh pit formed on the dance floor. This was to be expected of nu-metal-heads and normally I don't approve, but I considered this event an exception and jumped in. I played air guitar, did the "running man" and made several comical poses, as the group of fat girls with spiked hair and tall dudes with long hair all jumped up and down around me pushing each other. After the song, the pretty girl approached me and shook my hand without saying anything. I shook, but then began to perform an elaborate secret handshake of mine I only keep with certain people. She liked it, we practiced a few times, without saying anything, then resumed dancing with our seperate groups of friends.
Now usually, I am not the most forward guy in the world. Actually, I will never ever be the most forward guy in the world. I wouldn't even be more than half-way between the most forward guy in the world and the least forward guy in the world, I am so not forward at all. But tonight, I decided to raise my rank. A slow song began, and I searched for the pretty girl. I approached her, still not saying anything, and offered my hand. We did the secret handshake. I asked her name, which was "Averil" and then asked if she were here with another girl. She laughed and said she and her friends were straight, but here with their homosexual friends. "Same here. Awesome. Would you like to dance?" I asked. She warmly accepted the proposal.

I introduced my friends to her friends, and she introduced her friends to my friends. We all danced to together and laughed and acted generally silly. Then she dropped the proverbial bomb. We were discussing musical tastes, and so far all we had covered was that we had both seen Saves the Day in concert. Then she asked:
"Hey, do you like Against Me!?"

My jaw dropped. I fell to my knees. My eyes widened to an unbelievable stare. Angels sang. Fireworks went off. I'm pretty sure I flat-lined for a little bit too.

(Sidenote: Against Me! is a self-proclaimed "anarcho folk-punk" abnd out of Florida. Think Dropkick Murphies, except not Irish and more raw. I've loved this group since my junior year of high school when I read Nothing Nice to Say and Mitch Clem gave them his highest review. Their first album "Reinventing Axl Rose" has changed punk rock for me forever. I saw them in concert at the Avalon Ballroom in Boston. They opened for Anti-Flag. In my opinion, Anti-Flag had nothing on them. All-in-all, Against Me! has never dropped from my top-five favorite bands of all time.)

Averil could have told me she murdered and ate children after telling that, and I still would have proposed to marry her. Luckily, I didn't propose. That would have been weird.
Averil and I danced and talked some more, and my buddies could definitely see the interest blossoming like a flower. Ah, springtime is great. After the dance ended, we asked what they were doing after. They had no plans. Denny's? Yes. We drove them to Denny's. The car was kind of full from all of my belongings, but we made two trips.

Ladies and Gentlemen, my friends and I picked up chicks at Gay Prom. Straight chicks.

Denny's went well, I got a free meal because the silly people working thought it was my birthday and I'm a bad person. Chris drove the girls home but his car broke down on the way back, so we waited around for Trav2's dad to show and drive us back. I got all my stuff out and home luckily. It was an interesting night. Averil seems like a really neat girl, but shes lives faraways and I'm not entirely sure she's interested in me at all. Mais c'est la vie, oui? Well...more c'est ma vie.

I like ma vie though, especially when neat stuff like this happens.

Blog: Noun and Verb.

These "weblogs" have been getting pretty popular within the year(s), and frankly, I approve. I think it's putting Internet space to some good use, by letting everybody contribute, create and share. I'm no judge on the quality of a "blog", but through observation I've deduced that at least most blogs are created for one, or more, of the following purposes:

• A journal/diary-esque recounting of the author's day, complete with their bias and feelings on different subjects important to them, like their social life, along with their current mood and music.
  
• An outlet for an author's artwork, creative writing, novels, poetry, fanfiction, etc.
  
• A political forum and/or soap box platform, where the author gives his views on current "hot" topics in politics and world news.
  

These blog "types" range in quality and can be very diverse in nature. You could find interesting political blogs, such as Crooks and Liars, which is a hella liberal blog site that uses video clips and diagnostics and stuff. Then sort of crappy ones, presenting only one view and full of shameless self-promotion (Michael, I'm looking right at you). There's also neat novels in blog-form, like this one, and even this one. I think that is an awesome way to write a book if you do not have any publishing resources and want people to read it (by linking them). This may be my favorite type of blog so far. The type of blog most people know though, are the typically angst-ridden personal websites popular among teens and pre-teens across the country, so people can read exactly how they're feeling and hopefully in some way feel sorry for them and give them the meager attention they crave...though this does not always happen though.

This later type of blog are mostly used through websites such as Livejournal.com, Myspace.com, Xanga.com and The Open Diary. There're a bunch more, but I definitely don't feel like linking to all of them.

I'm not going to lie. I own a blog. You're reading it, yeah, yeah, I know. But in the past, I kept a couple of blogs of ... ill repute. As far as type goes, they fit the first category. They were all very lame. I say "all" because I switched sites a lot, alternating between different journals with different changes in my life. I am now, hopefully for a cathartic effect, cataloging all my past blogs (in chronological order):

Free Open Diary

T'was my first blogging experience. My sophomore year in high school. It was a lame and sad time of my life. I created it because my girlfriend at the time had one, the reason need not go further than that. Thank God Almighty, that due to not writing in it after a couple or so months, it was deleted and expired, and no one may ever read it's contents (I wrote poetry. Enough said).

Blurty #1

I wasn't quite so much an emo-nerd-loser-boy in this one, but I was still very angsty. My writing had only improved incrementally, and I still posted song lyrics. I made a few stabs at writing fictional material, but they went unnoticed. It was basically my rants and raves about my horrid days in highschool. I look back for nostalgic laughs and chuckles, but I don't recommend it to anyone.

Blurty #2

A short-lived side project based on the fact I attempted to fast myself from sleep for a couple of days. The attempt failed, but I did not tell my friends about this new blog on the side of my main Blurty account. It taught me the value of writing for myself, which ironically is the reason people wrote in "journals" or "diaries" back in the days of old anyways. Fancy that.

LiveJournal #1

I switched from the simple, young, naive Blurty to the wide, wicked and lame world of Livejournal, because all of my friends did. It was also prompted by a crush on a cute girl that I ended up being magnificent friends with, but I don't blame her for the addiction that followed. I posted a lot, primarily about the transition from my senior year in high school to the first semester of my freshmen year in college. My writing style began changing, because I had a surge of reading and writing in that time of my life. You can actually read along and mark the entries I've made where I start becoming a new and different person than I was in high school. Quite interesting stuff...if you were to ever do a document on me. I don't think you should do that though. That would kind of creep me out.

Blogger #1

I decided it'd be a fun idea to try out Blogger. I had found it accidentally over the Internet, searching for other blogging sites. Most of the discoveries were pretty lame, but this site was a diamond in the rough. I started the blog with the premise to try and record everything I could remember from my childhood on. Unfortunately, that is a lot. And I am very very lazy. So the plan fell through. I'll delete it someday.

Livejournal #2

After breaking up with my girlfriend in the dusk of my first semester at college, I decided I wanted a new livejournal aimed more towards my friends at USM. I also didn't want my ex reading about all the details of my life. She found it anyways, but whatever. New developments: I started to use pictures much more, and I started using it as a bulletin board for events I was attending or putting on, such as concerts or parties taking place in my dorm room. I had a fun time with it, it became less emotional and angsty and more casual and fun. I ended it recently...because I've made the grand switch to:

Blogger #2 !!!

That's right. I just linked to the site you're already on, reading this. This is my newest blog. I'm trying to keep it based on the "writing for myself" principle, mainly due to the fact many people will not read this consistently when they find it. But hey, whatever. If people don't read it, I still get the joy of writing and taking up precious space on the Internet. If people do read it, well, I hope they're entertained. I really enjoy the Blogger format, and hope to keep this one for a long time.

The Future ???

Who knows what the future ever holds? Maybe I'll get really cool, and find a way to get my own site. That would be really fancy. But I'd have to figure out things like real coding, HTML, servers, hosting, browsers, and all the shit like that. I'm not quite that much of a geek. Not just yet. But hey....only time can tell!

That was fun. I hope nobody actually reads those though. Embarassment to it's perhaps highest degree.

Whatever...I'm over it.

But Didn't We All Already Know This...

Paris Hilton is Kind of Retarded


Paris Hilton, on Blogs:

Q: Do you read what's written about you? Do you pick up the tabloids?

HILTON: I don't read any of it. I just look at the pictures to see what I was wearing last week and if it was cute.

Q: Do you read blogs?

HILTON: What's that?

Q: Um, they're these things on the Internet where people write about news and stuff.

HILTON: No, I don't really read anything on the Internet except my AOL mail. I don't like people who sit on computers all day long and write about people they don't know anything about.

Q: Paris, you just described my job.

(Her publicist, Rob Shuter, laughs.)

Q: What did you want to be when you were a little girl?

HILTON: A veterinarian, but then I realized I could just buy a bunch of animals.

I, for one, love sitting around on my computer all day writing about people. Especially when I don't know anything about them. Regardless if the esteemed Ms. Hilton approves.

P.S. This entry is jacking Jake Christie's style a lot.

and to that I saw "imitation is the finest form of flattery".

and "it's okay to defend myself with cliche's".

that too.

Three Things.

These are three things about the concert I recently saw at Catharine McAuley High School
(a Catholic all-girls high school).



ONE

I think there's a percentage of men who find appeal in girls who are Catholic. Now, now, not the stereotypical "catholic school girl" image with all the matching uniforms and plaid skirts. The religion itself is attractive, because you can tell these girls have been conditioned and educated to be set against evil vile things like talking to boys, holding hands at a young age, flirting, or anything else like that. Some men get the image that they are just full of pent-up sexual agression or have some sort of innonence to them that the stereotypical macho man would love to corrupt and defile.
Well...not me. I don't like Catholicism in the least bit, and a girl must be mighty special for me to see past her devout Catholic beliefs. I hold no truck with men who oggle the school girls who gather and giggle in groups before class. To me, they're pretty ignorant and frankly too young for any sort of fantasy to even begin to form. With that said, on to:



TWO

It was the strangest venue I'd ever been in. It was an auditorium, with a thrust stage and seating around. There was some space between the seats and the stage, but hardly anyone was standing there so we sat. I got to kick back in comfortable seats for this show, when normally I'd be standing in close proximity to other kids uncomfortably, no one moving save for some head nods or the mosh pit shenanigans. This wasn't so much of a Rock Show as it was a Rock Showcase, being specially presented to me. I had also imbibed in drugs beforehand, but not a lot. It was going to be a cool show.
The first band was Cosades.
The guitarist was a fat geeky dude in a tie-dye teeshirt. The bassist was a skinny guy with the "bassist" look and moves. The lead singer-guitarist looked like an immature Kurt Cobain clone who could possibly still be in high school. The drummer I knew. He was known as Boivan and he was the largest pothead in my building, possibly the whole campus. They seemed very unprofessional and immature. They had ten minute long breaks between each song since they only had one tuner (and couldn't tune by ear) and the lead singer would talk to the scene kids in the audience and plug his CD and next show. It's fine to plug your CD or whatever, but in between every song? It was like a highschool band.

that is...until they played.

They rocked. Pure and simple. It was this crazy bizarre rock, with some messed up raunchy vocals, but their sound was really tight. I totally dug it. Boivan was crazy on drums. His facial expressions alone made the show an awesome experience. They were a weird cool rock sound that I hadn't heard before. Blew me away, practically.
I didn't really understand their fanbase. Jake Simcock, ex-founder of Muscle City (you know, before it sucked) was there, but that could also be because it was put on by NE Booking which he works for now I guess. I was having a hard time placing the other kids in the crowd, since I hadn't been to any local shows recently, but I think they were Scenesters. I normally don't like elitist scene kid assholes but these guys were odd. One dude was practically the only guy in the room standing and he was dancing around a bit, basically looking like a total tool to me, but I don't hate on anyone for just dancing. He later got onstage and played along with a drumstick and a jamblock and then a macaraca. I didn't quite understand him, or the kids there, but they all left right after the set was over.

It was pretty weird to me. The fanbase, the band, everything except the music. The music was pretty fucking cool. If the other members of the band besides Boivan were a bit more professional, they would've been a lot cooler. Regardless, it's going to be sweet to see them open for Against Me! and Murder by Death.



THREE

Vague Valentine played after. This is a good point to explain the second half of the audience of the show, which ties into part one of this whole deal: the Catholic school girls. There were seperate mobs of them, and they were all there to see Vague Valentine. When the band hit the stage, Ben asked everyone to stand up and crowd the stage, so naturally they all did. I was feeling in a good mood after the last band, so I did too. At one point in the show, after Ben prompted them, they all began to dance crazily. The hip-hop kind of dancing. Dirty dancing. These were Catholic school girls too. Singing along with every word. It was a bit too much for me and I had to sit down.
anyways...the music.
I've only heard Vague play mainly acoustic sets, in the Burnham Lounge or coffeehouses, etc. Their one electric performance I saw, the first set I've seen of theirs, prompted me to buy their CD. I accidentally bought the wrong band's CD, U-turn, who opened for them. U-turn is a very lame Christian rap-rock group, who is not worth paying three bucks an album for. It was an accident. Moving on, I liked it. I like their acoustic stuff a whole lot, and at this concert, their electric was even better.
Honestly, when did VV turn into an honest-to-God (ha, Catholic high school) rock band? They rocked like a rock band. Ben Burgess acted like a rock band frontman should. He had funny dance moves. He soloed. He introduced all the band members during their solos. He prompted the audience to dance. He gave pauses for the audience to sing along. He worked the crowd like a Rock God. It was brilliant. His whole band had a rock band appeal. I danced along like I dance at every rock show I go to. The audience loved them.

It was just a damn shame the audience were only Catholic school girls, and a couple stoned kids who were friends with the band. I felt pretty guilty about that, but Ben knows I appreciate him. In heart.

We went out for Granny's Burritos and Coldstone Ice Cream, neither of these places I purchased anything in, the poor college student I am. But it was cool.

IT'S ALIVE!!! AAALLLLIIIVVVEEE!!! (still)

So I've decided I'm going to start writing in this again. Several months later.

and Jake Christie is to blame.