Trolling For Tinfoil

2006-04-10T23:16:00.000-04:00

Where have I been?
I have been busy recording, for those of you who have been peeking in from time to time.
My time with the band is coming to a close, and I'm doing a solo project. I have enough of my own stuff to record a decent album, good enough musicians who owe me favors and an abundance of the nessesary Obessesive-Compulsive drive to make it sound like what I want, balanced with what I can afford.

As they get polished from the rough-as-a-cob sketch tracks to more polished versions, I will post a few.

The sketch tracks, to anyone who doesn't really know what they're for- Are gawd-awful recordings consisting of the melody, and one or two sparse instrumental tracks recorded in less that ideal surroundings. As a result, they sound like something you'd get from a cassette deck.
You play these back on a muti-thousand dollar studio control room system and they sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.
The good news is, you play them in front of other musicians who are used to it, and you watch as they listen and start to create their parts in their heads- The song starts to take on a life of it's own.

Fun stuff.
Mostly.

2006-02-26T15:28:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd let you in on what happens on the weekends. Some of it's good, some of it's annoying, but it is an assault on the senses most nights.

Here's me. No, I'm not being cool- I've retina scorching lights right in my eyes.

Crowd shot. She-who-must-not-be-named is dead center (blonde w/ arm raised) trying desperately to F*** w/ me.
She kept sending women over who "thought I was hot".. After a while, it got irritating.

It ain't all bad, though..

Now, you can't say you don't know what I look like.

Tagged By ~K

2006-02-22T13:26:00.000-05:00

1. Black and White, or color? How do you prefer your movies?
Color. To be more specific, I like the old 50's technicolor movies that they used to show on TBS when I was a kid. I grew up in Florida, where July and August were brutally hot- So, there were times when you just sat inside and watched those movies they showed in the afternoon.

2. What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death?
That depends. Some days, I am so distracted, everything bores me. I guess to be more specific- If I am having one of those "bad" days (and they happen a lot less lately, but I still relapse into the past every now and then..) everything annoys me. But outright, watch-paint-dry boring? Physics class used to do that to me. We had a teacher that spoke in a dry monotone and had all the personality of- Well, an engineer. The only thing I remember from physics is that things fall at a rate of 32 ft per second, and light travels at 186000 miles per second. That's it. ZZZZzzzz.

3. MP3's, CD's, Cassettes, or Vinyl?
MP3's as of late. I am a geek, you know. Yeesh.

4. If you were handed a first class plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars and told all of it could be yours- IF you leave and don't tell anyone where you are going- ever. This includes family, friends- everyone. Forever. Would you do it?
Nope. Too selfish.
My family would be in anguish, never knowing what happened to me, and would always imagine the worst. Just not worth it. Believe me, I think about just disappearing quite often these days,but I'd at least let my family know.

5. What do you consider the world's most pressing issue now?
Islam.
I'm aware of the fact that that statement has some old "commie pinko lib'ruls" undertones, but the "religion of peace" seems to have declared active war on- Well.. Just about everyone. There seems to be no middle greound for them at the moment- At least for those making all the noise.

6. How would you rectify the world's most pressing issue?
Hmm. A simple, crude strategy would be to give them a continent. Let them have half of Jerusalem, all of Africa. May god or Allah help them if they do anything other than look across the border.
I know. It wouldn't work, but it's a thought. This is why I do not try to solve the world's problems.

7. You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life, what would it be?
There is one person whom I wish I had never laid eyes upon. Other than that- and even when I include She-who-must-not-be-named, I am the sum of my experiences, both good and bad.

8. You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would it be?
Nothing. Things happen, and situations arise from those events. Now- If I could go back and observe? Lincoln would have been fun to see in action, as would Churchill, or maybe R.E. Lee.

9. Opera, or Grand Ole' Opry?
Both. One can be as tedious as the other, so I'd like to bounce between them when the other gets boring.

10. What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you'd like to solve?
JFK's assasination.
The infamous grassy knoll, the storm drain, Miami, the mob.. A lot of people died in odd ways. People that were connected in one way or another, just.. Gone. That strikes me as- I dunno..Against the law of averages.

11. What famous author would you like to have over for dinner. What would you serve?
Kerouac? Nope. Too self-absorbed. Tolstoy? Nope. Too tedious. Nabokov? Mmmmaybe.
I think I'll go for John D. MacDonald. He was the best comentator of modern society I have yet to see. He's since passed away, but if he were here, we'd have-
Steak, (grilled of course..) garlic mashed potatoes and salad. Nothing special, but I'd at least make sure I had some quality gin on hand for him.

12. You discover that John Lennon was right, and there's no hell below us, and above us there is only sky. What's the first immoral thing you would do to celebrate this fact?
Nothing. It's not the threat of hell that keeps me from doing immoral things. Everything has a price, and most immoral things cost you more than the pleasure derived from it. Mostly, I think I'd marvel at the fact that Lennon was right about something other than chord structure and a clever turn of phrase. People take musicians far too seriously as it is.

Re-Meme

2006-02-07T20:12:00.000-05:00

K~ from Life With Me In It tagged me. I looked at it and thought-
That- is not. What I feel like answering today.
Not that I'm some sort of "Meme elitist", bent on doing everything my way, but I thought the questions were kinda.. Meh. (K~ is most definitely NOT "meh" and- I'm pretty sure she could take me in an alley fight.)

Here's what I wanna know. (Yes, it is all about me, and it's high time y'all learned that..)

Rob's cheesy, nosy questions

1) When you think of someone, what pushes your "wow" buttons? In other words, is there a "type" or "types" that you go for? Are you an "eyes" person, one who goes for the artistic type, or rough around the edges? (This is a gender-neutral question, I think.)

2) Name something about the people you work with that pushes your "That really pisses me off" button. (Okay, be careful, cuz you never know who may read this. If in doubt, substitute a "people in general" response.)

3) 4) and 5) If you could have three wishes what would they be? (Difficulty- No "world peace and puppies for everyone" wishes. Let's be realistic about our unrealism, shall we?)

6) SuperBowl- Did the Steelers win outright, or did the Seahawks just lose an otherwise winnable game? (Sougata gets a pass on this, being a godless heathen and a ferriner to boot..)

Rob's inane answers

1) I like women to be sassy, able to withstand the onslaught of my "Rob-Fu". Okay, that's a bit overboard, but I like them with a sense of self.
Oh- Hot always helps.
2) I have several types at work who yank my chain on a regular basis, but the worst is when people assign me a problem, and then give me a ten minute dissertaion on what to do to correct the issue.
Here's all I need- Who. What. Where. Anything else, and you're torturing me with noises not at all unlike those made by Charlie Brown's Mom. WahWahWaaahWah.
Just - Let. Me. Go. I can assess the situation, ask questions and solve it quicker on my own.
-Wishes-

3) Wisdom the likes of Solomon. The ability to see every situation for what it really is.
4) The power to use said wisdom- Mostly for those directly around me. No world peace blather here.
5) To own and rule an island whose chief export would be those hot women they use in music videos.

6) The Seahawks lost that one. They let it slip away more so than the Steelers won.

Now- It's up to you if you want to post these in tour own blog, but truthfully, I'll be happy with some answers in the comments section.

SuperBowls and Songwriting

2006-02-05T17:00:00.000-05:00

I am of the opinion that there are only two times when Steeler's Fans are insufferable.

1) When they win.
2) When they lose.

The SuperBowl hasn't even started yet and I'm wincing already, anticipating a lot of breathless rehashing of the game, or worse yet- Endless whining about bad calls.

Just for the record though, this is probably the only time I will ever root for the Steelers, albeit half-assedly whilst I recline and snooze on the couch. In part, it's because I have a hard time getting worked up over the Seahawks. They're just so... Latte'.

I wouldn't rule out Holmgren and company altogether, but I think the Steelers have more heart, play with more intensity and have a defense that could've held off the Allies on D-Day.

The songwriting has come to a screeching halt, in part because of an abcessed tooth, making it hard to feel creative while my face is pounding. I get it drilled and filled on Wednesday, so here's hoping for the best. I also kinda poured out everything I had in me, writing one song that's as close to "me" as I dare get. It won't be hard for anyone to figure out who wrote it ten seconds into the song. It's also as good as anyhting I've ever written.

BTW.. My prediction for the Super bowl is Steelers over the Seahawks 31-27.

Creativity, or lack thereof

2006-02-02T15:19:00.000-05:00

Whelp.. The songwriting continues.

I had a really productive streak going strong, pumping out two so-so pieces, followed by two really solid ones, and then- I hit the wall.

It happens. The creative well runs dry, and you sit there staring at the wall mid-song.

I had a pretty nice little chord progression going, something akin to a melody brewing, but when it came time to put an idea or some kind of subject matter into it, everything came that came out of my head sounded like rejected Hallmark Cards from the 70’s. I don’t really like writing directly about meself, since- Well, that can make people squirm.

I don’t want them to squirm, I want them to absorb and enjoy the song, finding something of themselves in it. If it so happens that what I’m going through comes out in a song, fine, but I’m not going to dump my soul on the poor unsuspecting public.
That’s what I have this blog for. It’s reasonably anonymous, and I can vent my spleen upon you, the poor unsuspecting readers. Ha!

The sunday update.

2006-01-29T17:50:00.000-05:00

Just because I feel guilty, I suppose, for neglecting the Troll, I am throwing this up just to keep you apprised of my life, as boring as it is of late.

I've really been on a songwriting tear, in part because this process is so unobtrusive- You can hit a button and just let ideas roll out without regard to the recording going on. I normally get the "Red Light Jitters" which means you get self-conscious when the tape rolls. This makes it silent enough to forget about.

I've finished a couple, but it'll be a few weeks, maybe months before I get them to a point where I can link to them. They're just rough sketches, and they'll need to be polished, honed and perfected before I let them out.

I've been furously uprading the PC, installing bigger hard drives, since songs in rough format suck up vast anounts of drive space. This required drive imaging software, a big ol' Western Digital 250 gig Hard Drive and getting my finicky MoBo to recognize both PATA and SATA drives. My original drive is now in an external USB enclosure for backup and whatnot. That was a pain in the ass, lemme tell ya. When i got the new MoBo i lost a crapload of data, but it wasn't anything I couldn't live without, but I'll be damned if I'll do it twice. Last time I blew the drive away mostly because I ran out of patience.

The band is taking off, which is really frightening. As much as there's tension and whatnot (which has mostly subsided) the sound on stage is better than sex at times. I swear, it really is. It's both visceral and audible, feeding right into my "I Need to feel good" circuit in my brain and for a period of time, all is well in the world. The guitarist and I (yes, THAT guitarist..) are working on the original stuff- So, .. Um.. That has been oddly productive.

My life, if it weren't so boring, would be great screenplay fodder as a side, "isn't he odd" kind of character.
I have not really felt the need to date, or find someone to fill any voids in my life, which is both re-assuring, and odd. I do mental double-takes at times when I'm driving, taking stock of Rob- such as I am. I am usually content to just putter along, doing as I please, marching to the beat of whatever it is that I'm amusing myself with.

I've been on dates, but they are not so much an interview for a future Significant Other so much as entertainment. Provided they're attractive enough to be amusing. It sounds shallow, I know, but if I'm going to subjuct myself to a date, she damn well better be pleasing to look at. At the end of the night, kisses are exchanged, but then I scurry away to come home and play my guitar.

Update

2006-01-22T16:38:00.000-05:00

I have not fallen off the edge of the blogosphere. Really.

I have found this nifty open source recording program called Auacity, which lets you do mutli-track recording right on your PC. You can do all kinds of things with minimal (and I do mean minimal) cost. I have a standard cheapie microphone tapped into a run-of-the-mill sound card, and- Presto. I wouldn't put any of this onto a CD, but it's a great way to sketch out ideas.

This seems to have sucked up what littel creative energy I have as of late, but it seems like a harmless obsession at the moment. I have a bunch of little pieces if ideas, nothing close to full songs as of yet- I seem to get to a point where I have to cross the line into full song, and it's there I get timid. You can take a great idea for a song and completely wreck it if you push too hard. At the same time, you can psyche yourself out if you get too timid. At some point, I'm going to have to forge ahead and just finish one of them.

First it died, then it arose

2006-01-09T22:58:00.000-05:00

My PC, that is.

In response to K~'s not-so-gentle reminders, I hereby offer an explanation of sorts.
My motherboard, or as we refer to it in "the biz" - The "MoBo" (Envision finger quoting motions for added emphasis) appeared to have....
Wait.
Let me back up a little.

I was having some wonderful pitched battles with the Gauls, the Numidians, and those damn Spaniards- who kept attacking at every turn- all in the course of conquering the ancient world in the wonderful universe known as "Rome- Total War". Just as I was all set to take on house Julii (another roman faction) the PC.. She no boot.

EEk! In a fit of "conquestus interuptus"-I rushed out and dropped way too much money on a power supply at BestBuy, as Rome waits for noone, and I had cities rioting...

oh- Hang on, luv..
*Checks Email*
Apparently, K~ AND Bonnie are putting on their cheerleading outfits and heading to the airport.
Heh.. Be careful what you wish for, ladies..

Ok, where was I?
Right.
Making excu- Er.. Writing an explanation.
Okay- So, I shelled out 90 dolla for a humongo overkill powersupply, but, hey- I don't want to cook this one just as Rome itself lies within my grasp, now, do I?

I get home, eviscerate my now-defunct PC, frantically insert the new and improved Power Supply, push the power button, all the while licking my lips in anticipation...
"C'mon, baby- Daddy has to keep Carthage in check and build up the Cav.."
Nada.
(Keep in mind, I do this for a living.)

I was officially Pissed.
Officially.
Royally.
Totally Jacked.

I (after the fact, mind you..) check all the ratings, connection compatibilities and read the specs all of which revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
Must be the MoBo. (Finger quotes)

I have nothing to lose, so I now drop ANOTHER 300 dolla on an AMD 64-bit 1200 mhz front-side-bus-mother-of-all-motherboards via Tiger Direct.

This evening, I'm a little bored, there's naught on TV but re-runs and almost-sports- Sooo, I start piddling with the case and connections a little absent-mindedly all the while getting a cheap football fix watching a replay of the 87 Browns-Broncos game. The new (finger quotes) MoBo will be here tomorrow, so.. Whatthehell.

I take it down to the empty case, reseat all the connections, chase all the dust buffalos from the corners and fans and start putting it back together piece-by-piece.
I get Lazarus back to a minimal boot state and sorta half-heartedly hit the power button..

BEEP!
! ........!! WTF!

So, I plugged it all back in, and here I sit- Waiting for a very expensive (finger quotes) MoBo to arrive.
I'll use it anyway. I mean..
I already paid for it and all.
*sigh*
I am such a gadget slut.

Tagged By ~K. Quirks? Heheh..

2005-12-24T15:39:00.000-05:00

According to ~K, I need to post five quirky or "odd" things about myself.
I think you'd be better off asking those around me to be honest. Most everything I do seems fairly normal to me.
Heh..They would most likely have a hard time stopping at five.
Yikes. That would really be an open invitation to abuse.

Soo, I'll come up with them.
*tap fingers*

Here goes.
Quirks.... *crickets chirping*

Okay- I got it.

1) I only wear black socks to work. Notice, I said to work. Lest your brains fill with images of me wearing shorts and black socks with sandals, or sweats replete with the "dork badge" at the gym, I repeat- only to work.
I do this because my bedroom is usually dark, and it's just easier to grab a pair when they're all the same color.

2) I have a tendency to hit the "Enter" key with a little too much elan, if you ask my co-workers. Think of a pianist hitting the final note in a sonata, striking the note quickly with a flourish at the end.
I have no idea why.
[Enter/flourish]

3) I hate- No.. Detest, despise, revile- talking on the phone. I screen all my calls even if it's family. If they leave a desperate enough sounding message, I pick up.

4) I have a horrible poker face. Whatever is running through my mind, my face reflects it like a running ticker tape.

5) I like "The Gilmore Girls". It's in re-run time right now, but I can't help it. It sucked me in. I was forced to watch it one night on a date-ish kinda night and, and.. Hey- It was her TV, so it's not like I wanted to.
(Just so I don't have to surrender my "man card", I also watch way too much of the History Channel.)

Okay.
*Rubs hands together, looks around*
I hereby tag Sougata (Oh, that oughtta be good..)
Bonnie, who can respond in the comments section if she likes
and...
That's it.

Faux News

2005-12-22T16:10:00.000-05:00

I got sucked into a mini-flamewar on Fark..

It was mostly harmless, but it's Christmas break and all the students seems to have nothing better to do than troll.
I admire the cleverness of the left, their ability to poke holes in the status quo and question all things sacred- But at times, they get so proud of themselves for being snarky, I feel compelled to step in and be the lone bent tuning fork in an echo chamber.
They were bitching about Fox News.
Fine. I bitch about NPR.
They call it Faux News.
That's Cute. Clever.
They seethe because they're biased.
True. So what?

The real issue seems to be that it's now the number one cable news channel.
Uh-Oh.

Not only have they lost the White House, they've lost their monopoly on all media outlets. They call it propaganda, half-truths and outright lies. Anyone remember Connie Chung and Newt Gingrich? That's bias.

They were amusing themselves coming up with imaginary polls to place on Fox's website, and there were some funny ones.

At this point, I jumped in with the following:

Which bothers you more-
a) They're number one
b) They cater to an audience upon whom I wouldn't pour bong water should they catch fire
c) I am somehow unable to turn the channel and find news presented in a more palatable fashion
d) They're just stupid.. And republican. And I hate them. I have tee-shirts to prove it.

Suddenly it wasn't so much fun. Sarcasm and broad brushing is completely fine- Aimed at someone else. So, I took some shots, pointed out the obvious until it became a battle of moral relativism, at which point I left.

Ah.. Passion without perspective is what college is for, isn't it?

2005-12-21T09:32:00.000-05:00

It's getting close to Christmas.

So close, in fact- I can hear the money draining out of my bank account so fast it makes a gurgling sound.
Ahh, the sweet sound of poverty and debt.

My daughter is of an age where she's hard to buy for- I've crossed the threshold of knowing what's "in" any more, so I have gracefully surrendered and trudge dutifully up to the counter and ask for gift certificates.
Places like "Wet Seal" and "Hollister".
I have that slightly confused "Dad" look when I go in there.

Her Senior Pictures are up for choosing now-
Ye gods, what a racket that is. A Parent will pay almost any price for these, since... Well- She does look wonderful, and I do need some for my desk- and a couple for the Grandparents and Aunts, and a big one for the house, and a few wallet sized, and..
You see what I mean?

It's gonna cost a small fortune.

If I don't post anything between now and the Holidays, may the best of the season be with you and yours.

RCP

2005-12-14T08:51:00.000-05:00

Things are pretty good on planet Rob.

Not stupendous, not award-winning, but- Not bad either.
I bought myself a video card that will handle Doom3 and "Rome: Total War" without chopping it down to 14.4 modem speed. It's pretty hard to control war elephants when you can't see where they went.

I can chase them down and stop them before they disappear over the horizon now. Unfortunately, by the time I get them stopped, the legionaires have decimated my Pikemen.
Very unpredictable, those elephants.

It then occurred to me that my old CRT is .. Well.. A CRT.
Sooo, I bought a 19 inch LCD to compliment the spiffage that has ensued with the hot video card. I mean.. Killing things on Mars requires a lot of resolution, and my 17 inch behemoth just wasn't up to high-res Martian massacres. According to UPS, I should have my new monitor sitting at my doorstep when I get home, but- I have a gig every nite this week, so I won't get much time to decimate the demonic Martian horde. I'll hook it up and sneak a few missions in just to see.

Boy, are those nasty creatures gonna be surprised. I should die every 10 minutes or so, as opposed to every five, when I was all old-school and Cathode-Ray.

Of grumpiness and Baby Pictures.

2005-12-04T20:37:00.000-05:00

Our lead singer has asked me to revive an old habit left over from the old band days.

It would seem the website is starved for content, so he asked me to write something, keeping everyone informed, or at the very least- Mildly amused, and possible offended. We used to call it “Rob’s Corner”, but that just seems a little too… Ah, screw it. “Rob’s Corner” still works just fine. See how my brain works? It's going to be a little separate page, where I turn my jaundiced eye on the public and the band scene in general.

I get to be the counterpoint to his relentless enthusiasm. Yes, Jim is really like that..
He's this large, bald force of nature, women find him irresistable, and the people love to watch him. I'ts what makes him a great front man.

He’s eternally positive, which is really irritating if you’re grumpy. Especially when you’re grumpy.

I like my grumpiness. Our drummer has rubbed off on me, and I have adopted some of his curmudgeonly ways- Besides..It’s fun being grumpy. You really get in the groove, your’e feeling it, you’ve built up your own little cloud of rain that follows you around, people step aside in the malls and you scare dogs and small children.

In bounds Jim, all “positive” and “happy”. Poof. Your rain cloud vanishes. Ya gotta be all happy now, because he’ll wear ya down. He’ll whip out the baby pictures if you keep trying to be grumpy, and no bad mood on the planet will stand up to baby pictures, dammit. We’re going to send him to the middle east, if they can’t learn to get along.

Neglect

2005-11-29T21:19:00.000-05:00

My poor blog..

I have been neglecting it as of late. Thanks to the gentle, and not-so-gentle reminders that I was past due for my updates..

No drama here. *gasp*
Really.

I'm dating, but I can't get into anything serious, just because- Well.. I am in no shape for that and unfit for human consumption. Dates are nice. If it gets more serious than that, alarm bells sound and I vanish, only to have to sheepishly explain that I am, at heart- A coward and don't like to break bad news to someone who may or may not want more.

This doesn't mean that I don't pursue "friends with benefits", but both parties must understand clearly what the rules are. So far, I haven't dabbled in that too much. It will probably get complicated also.

I haven't given much more thought to Dallas as of late, only because I'm comfortable back here at home, but.. If it keeps bubbling up, I'll give it it's due consideration. I have yet to be "seductificated" to quote Sougata..

I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was free of drama- Mine was. My sister from Connecticutt slept here, which is nice. It's nice to have a house that people feel comfortable in.

That's al for now-

R

Post Dallas-

2005-11-20T22:01:00.000-05:00

Dallas was nice-

(It sparked a lot of fun comments)

While I was there, I managed to see two of my uncles-
One lives on a nice sized lake outside of Dallas, the other in DeSoto. I visited the lakeside house, which was lovely, even if it was a headlights-only kind of tour. The other has a hobby-band and is a great musician in his own right, so I got to play with him while there. He took me around to a couple of clubs and I sat in with some really good players, and managed to hold my own to the point where they offered me work.. Nice to see I can play in that league.

It feels very comfortable there.. The people say "hello" readily and without pretense, there's a thriving music scene, and I have family there.
The thought of moving was constantly burbling in the the back of my head, but I like to toy with the idea more than actually comitting to it.

I have no real reason to move- I have a good job, I can find work here as a musician without having to kiss anyone's ass, and my immediate family is also here.

But, by the same reasoning, I don't have anything here to keep me from moving.

Interesting dilemna, no?

I have never in my life just "picked up and moved" to a new place except when I was much younger and more resilient. My step father was in the Air Force, so we racked up three moves, which is pretty good for an Air Force family.

It is somethingto think about, but it needn't be an all consuming obsession.

Blogging from Dallas

2005-11-15T23:07:00.000-05:00

Here I sit, smoking in my Hotel room, blogging in my underwear on a kingsize bed, using a wireless connection and drinking Ice Water while watching PBS.

Not bad, eh?
I may never leave.

I'm in the "Big D" all week, undergoing printer training -but- I have two uncles that live here, so I get to see family. I do like it here, Buuut.. It has it's drawbacks.
Traffic is a friggin' nightmare.
This town is "tech heavy", up to it's butt in geeks, so moving here is a quickly discarded notion.

God knows I love the Cowboys, and there's lots to see and do and the women are friggin' stunning..
*sigh* But- I'd starve.

I really like the way the women dress here-
(Oh, I know, I know..I wouldn't fare any better, since I think I'm looking for a woman who looks like a model, fucks like a porn star, cooks like Martha Stewart and knows what right and wrong is. Compromises will have to be made. )

I have a friend who states flat out that women come in three styles, and you can have any two of the following choices-

Hot
Sane
Single

Pick any two, he says, and that's as good as it gets.

Eh. It's full moon, which means I get the male version of PMS and ponder ridiculous shit like this.

I have nuthin' to bitch about..

2005-11-08T16:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I have nothing to bitch, whine or pine about today. Truthfully, most days are like that, except that I can't ever seem to find the "off" switch.
My daughter's senior play is on Thursday, and I was reminded that it might be nice to get flowers to give to her afterwards. It's tradition, or so I'm told..She's quite the little actress, lemme tell ya. This is why women rule- They seem to exist in that world where details are easily and matter-of-factly recalled. I do not possess that skill, to the degree that I'm somewhat notorious for being disorganized. It's only lately (in the past few years to be exact) that I have grown weary of being an out of control slob. Bills are paid on time, dishes are done, laundry is done, usually once a week- Out of a semi rigorous routine I've developed.
This week I didn't take the trash to the curb. I felt like a lazy bum for not doing so, but I'm just one person in my house, so it's not like I generate tons of trash as it is. There's no health risk, but- I could've done it.
When I let things slide, even little trivial things- I feel like I'm getting out of control.
You see how my mind works?
Eh- This post is going nowhere fast, but I felt like I should post something other than the daily diary of a co-dependant dweeb..

Closure?

2005-11-06T20:17:00.000-05:00

I got a very nice email from one of the regulars- It pretty much stopped me in my tracks, made me thankful that I have nice people who check in on the semi-regular updates and see where the soap opera is going.

I don't really kmow where to begin, or should I say, i don't know how to gracefully sugue into the unusual week that I had playing four nights in the place where the ex works, next to the man who .. I guess for lack of a better word- is like a living monument to my own naivete' and stupidity.

Saturday afternoon brought an unusual call from the ex- Her PC was broken, so she called and wanted to know if she could use my PC to download some pages for her class.
I went into instant doormat mode and said "sure' without thinking..
After I hung up, a voice in the back of my mind said "She crapped all over you, she calls and wants to use your computer and all you can say is "sure"?
So, she shows up, I log her on, complete with the image of a middle finger raised in salute that I placed there after I deleted the picture of her and I. I think she got the point, but in my defense, it's been there for months, and I've grown fond of it.

I decided to go get a cup of coffee. If I'm seeing someone with the understanding that it's exclusive, it hardly seems appropriate to be that close to her. Knowing her, it was planned anyway.
I come back, and small talk is exchanged, and it is mentioned that I will have company at the show this evening, but I was hoping to shield her from gossip.. She says- "That's hardly my fault"...
My brain exploded. Red flash of pure, blinding rage.
I kept my voice calm, since there really was no point in yelling, but I explained to her that yes, is was indeed her fault, since it was all so unnessesary to begin with. I wouldn't be going through any of this if it weren't for her.

I went outside, and she left, leaving a ten on the desk, with a note that said "thanks".

She then called about a half hour later.

That conversation was the result of my inner explosion, but it was a long, and intense conversation, each of us hammering our points home. Not mean or aggressive, mind you, but really hammering at things until we got each of our feelings through.
It would have never worked had she not left herself so little wiggle room as a result of her actions. She is faced with her self, undeniable evidence that something in her thought process is wired wrong, so that made my job a lot easier.

I eventually got something of an apology.

It was like all the anger and resentment melted, if only for a while. I know that while she occupies a huge chunk of my emotions, I have no desire to return to that.

You should keep in mind that I haven't always apologized for my actions, but I came to a place three and a half years ago where resolving to work on what caused me to behave that way was the only escape from myself- That's AA at work.

She still carries resentments from my drinking days. I cannot undo any of that except to demonstrate daily, in deeds and speech that I recognize that I was an alcoholic, and do my utmost to address those things that made me an alcoholic. Sometimes obsessively, maniacally so, to the detriment of all else around me. Nonetheless, effort was and is being made to change and to grow, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I do this for me- Not for her. It's my liferaft to which I cling. No matter what happens around me, as long as I hold on and develop myself- an do NOT put any chemicals in my body- I have a shot.
At what, I don't know.. More will be revealed, but all I have to do is check the evidence in my life and know that I am blessed, possessing more inner peace (even through all this!) than I have ever had since a child. I can look at myself in the mirror. I owe no one anything other than the truth, no explanations, no rationalizations, no justifications, just- This is who I am, and I am the sum of my actions, daily.

I grew into that, and she stayed the same and the inequity became all too obvious. Now it's her turn to grow, but it saddens me that it's too little too late.
I wish her the best.

Cheeleaders and post gig thoughts

2005-11-05T01:54:00.000-05:00

I've been chuckling at my own personal glee club. It seems to have taken on a life of it's own..

I am a lucky man.

I came home, a little tired, very dispirited, and checked my comments.
Heh.
Nice pick me up at the end of a long day.

That being said....

I have to get out of this godawful band. It is sucking the life out of me. No band is worth this, I don't care how good the players are.. I don't need attention that bad. I hate that I ever had to deal with any of this, I'm tired of the raging battle between logic and hurt feelings, but mostly.. It just sucks.

I can't heal and move on when it's in my face all the time. I have moments where I am at peace with all this, but I see or hear something that slams it back, and I have to start from scratch all over again. I need time and separation from all this.

Then I can stop pining and whining.
Period.

The quick and dirty.

2005-11-02T14:01:00.000-05:00

It's been somewhat eventful as of late, and at the same time, not really.

My apologies for the delay-
I didn't feel like dumping as of late, and there really isn't much to write about that doesn't annoy me, since it's just been more pointless drama.

I feel like a bit player in "Jerry Springer- The Musical".

Thankfully, I'm not the star.

The updates, which shall be quick and dirty..

1) He called and said he'd broken it off with her.

2) He then didn't hear from her (but I had..) and went to see her after telling his wife that he "wanted to see if she was OK".
At midnight.

3) She lets him...

4) She gets nervous and takes the baby and goes over, at which point a minor, but civil showdown takes place.

5) Denial met reality. Briefly.

6) He dicides to work it out w/ wife after my ex expresses doubts.

Now, I personally don't think it'll last long since they both have the self control of lemmings.

I have to play (again) at the Winner's Circle where I will get to be the disgraced, co-dependent ex boyfriend. Yay.
I have no idea what part they'll be playing.

I only have to endure this until the end of the year, since I wanted to be as dignified as possible, salvaging what little is left of my pride and give the band notice. (Plus, I need the money, but not so much that if it gets freaky, I'm pulling the plug and leaving on the spot.)

That's realy all I have. The dating scene for me is what it is, and when I forget that- Trouble starts. But as long as I let things happen as they're supposed to, then I'm OK. I don't need more drama.

Good day.. With Cheerleaders even.

2005-10-23T19:57:00.000-04:00

Woo HOO!

It's been a relatively angst-free weekend. (You can all breathe a sigh of relief and stop wincing as you open the page..)

I have my own cheering section- K~ and Bonnie have been most supportive through all my sniveling and navel gazing.
I now have them visualized in my head wearing little cheerleader outfits with on "R" on the front.

I had originally asked them for permission, but- It's too late. The visual is firmly esconced in my perverted little noggin. Oh, sure- Sougata and Jyoti have benn extremely helpful as well, but they look really .. Sad in the cheerleader outfits. *Scrubs brain*

Grains of sand vs pearls of wisdom

2005-10-21T16:12:00.000-04:00

This will be a quickie, more or less.

I don't have many grains of sand I must polish into a pearl today. Just the same ones, lessening with each day.

There are certain grim satisfactions I have, and I'm no better for feeling a small lump of cold bitterness towards them. It will turn out the way it's supposed to, and God does not need my help rectifying injustices done to me. He gives each of us as much rope as we ask for.

It is my belief that this holds true for everyone.

In short- You can do anything you damn well please, just don't bitch and moan when the bill comes due. Everything has a price.

I have been bitching and moaning. The bill came due, and it was a great surprise to me that I held on to things that I knew to be absurd.

One is the realization that I was basically acting like her parent, letting her go her own way, wallow in her own wreckage, never really letting her out of my sight, and then swooping in to pick her up before someone else did.

I'm not her dad.

No matter where I am or who I'm dating- I will not share emotional space and energy with someone else unless it's a child.
This is the very reason I bailed in the first place. I was tired of it, and I was kind of OK with thinking she was dating someone else, but then all my assumptions and illusions were put to the test.

Betrayal, deceit? Secondary to the fact that I would not stand in line while she chased her emotions.

One thing she said from our last conversation that sticks with me-
"I became what you always said I was".

No, not really.
You just did what I always thought you'd do.. You followed the irresistable pull of your emotions, in spite of reason, logic, honesty, respect of others and respect of self.
It's just simple selfishness in pursuit of a feeling.

I just didn't think you'd do it in such a spectacular fashion.

Gambles, truth and bitterness.

2005-10-19T16:12:00.000-04:00

This has come to be the place where I go when I need to swallow some uncomfortable truths about myself.
It's a process, documented on the web for the world to see, and most of you are checking in to see where it goes next.
I can also look back and see what "magic feather" I was holding onto for that particular time to keep myself afloat.
(So far, everyone has been very understanding and supportive, and for that I wish to extend my sincerest gratitude.) The emails and comments I have received thus far have been most welcome, encouraging and thought provoking. I especially welcome thought provoking. My overblown sense of self-pity doesn't need reinforced, since to feed it will only encourage it. (Which doesn't seem to stop me from doing it though..)

Some have said "Don't blame yourself".
I don't.

At least not in the sense that I am filled with a sudden crushing onset of sunken self-esteem. Yesterday's "Binky" analogy has mutated today into something else. Today's chunk of "truth-as-I-know-it-and-must-be-swallowed" comes in the form of this mighty burst of insight..

Some have said cheating was the thing that broke us up, and I have defended against that assumption, but I could never articulate it well until now. Cheating, or the ever-present "someone else" was merely a side effect of a greater affliction. I cut her loose twice because of these side effects, trying in vain to get her to see that what you feel does not justify your actions. Unfortunately, logic never stood a chance against "feeling".

I would talk, sometimes yell in frustration- "You can't do whatever you want and later wash it all away by saying you can't help how you feel!"

It. did. not. compute.

Mighty logic is useless against feeling. Especially when emotions are her drug of choice. They don't have to be good emotions- just intense ones. In the face of overwhelming evidence that actions will result in a bad situation, she persisted with odd, seemingly totally self-destructive behavior.

I would shake my head, get so frustrated that I could scream out loud and let her go, hoping against hope that she would see that everything has a price, no matter how it makes you feel at the moment. You can't fix someone who is addicted and doesn't want to be fixed.
I let her go, keeping a close eye on her- Waiting for the day that she punished herself enough that she finally got it.

Oh, sure.. I knew that it may never work out, and that I would lose her forever, in which case I saw myself being philosophical and moving on. The risk I ran was that she would find someone I vaguely knew, I would never see her much and life would go on. Never did I think that any of this would happen, so close that wer'e all getting bombed by the fallout, and I'd have to deal with all the layers of the onion as they're peeled back right in front of me, in my face.

Every plan has a flaw. Mine was that I was irreplaceable- Or so I thought.

Now, he has a major flaw to deal with.. She'll use how she feels to justify anything, and the day he makes unhappy, he will find out what that means.
The very gate he walked in through he has not locked behind him.
His divorce and custody battles will be painful, brutal and bitter. I don't wish him any ill will there. He owns it because he broke it. However- When all the external influences die down, and they can't hide in each other, doing the "two lovers against all odds routine" they are left with each other. That's when I will sit on the sidelines, order a hot dog and watch. Two wounded bears in a cage with nothing to feed on but each other.
Yikes.

We'll see how I feel, and hopefully it won't matter by then.

Possibly the most disjointed post ever.

2005-10-18T15:07:00.000-04:00

I guess any day that I don't drink is really a good one.
Most days it's like a little pilot light on a gas stove. There, but barely noticeable.

Today- Or to be more precise- The last two weeks it's been a roaring bonfire, blazing up when fuel has been added to the fire, and then having consumed the immediate fuel, it settles down to a dull roar in the back of my head.
Think of wanting a cigarette all day, every day for two weeks. You kind of adjust to it, try to compensate and do healthy things (gym, clean the house- Anything constructive..) instead of hiding from it. It just becomes background noise, more or less, but it does wear you down.

The good news is, it's really just a sign of weakness leaving, if you want to get all metaphorical about it.

The things that make it flare up? It usually means I've been denied the things that I use to make myself feel better.
You can pick your obvious poisons-
Work (Nope)
Power *snort*
Money *chuckle*
Sex *hmm..*
Co-Dependency *dingdingding* Winnah!

It would appear that I have real issues with people pleasing and co-dependency.
God, that sounds so trite and cliche'd, buuuuut- The obvious is so hard to ignore at times, I annoy myself.

This explains a lot about me and how my brain works-
Imagine standing in the middle of a busy intersection blindfolded. Some things you can sense coming, others just come along out of the blue and mow you down. You would think I'd find a less busy intersection but I can't.

It's my brain and I'm sorta stuck with it.

Drinking would slow the traffic down to a manageble speed, but clearly this is unnacceptable if one wishes to live a normal life of any consequence.

Being with someone else who made me feel good (as long as I was with her, and never let her out of my sight..) worked as a nice substitution for a while, but I outgrew her. She has stayed where she was, or gotten much worse, if I were to be blunt.

Later, It was an obvious mismatch. But, she was like my "binky" even if, as a binky she was terrible.

I tried to fix said binky.

Binky didn't want to be fixed.

I threw the binky away, but not so far I couldn't run back and pick it up.

Eventually, someone else came along and told the binky that it was a good binky, and under-appreciated.

Okay, enough of the binky stuff, but that's pretty much how my mind works. I didn't really want it as it was, but I didn't want anyone else to have it either.

Here's the good part.
I can replay last night's conversation, listening to her, and know that I don't live in that world anymore.
I did at one time, listening to her phrases, the things that she says to convince herself, and knowing there's a good person waaaaay down in there. I used to speak and think just like that, but the separation has made the obvious differences more tangible.

I am kind of watching, with part of my mind saying with a heavy mental sigh- "This ought to be .. tragic." The other part of me is going "Mine! Mine!" Even if I didn't want to put up with all the negative crap anymore.

I have enough sense to look at it like one watches a squirrel running across a busy street. You just know that the squirrel is going to get hammered, but the nut is too tempting.
You have sort of a detatched grimness about you as squirrel grabs the nut and starts back, only to get pounded by a minivan, his little squirrel life ended right there and then.

You knew it'd happen, but you don't speak squirrel, so it's not like you could warn him-

But you feel sad nonetheless.

As my mind turns

2005-10-17T21:03:00.000-04:00

Well.

I'm writing this largely for me, and if you get something out of it, that's purely a byproduct.

I called the ex today.
I had to. Just when I tought I had everything nicely reconciled, I get blindsided by the whole sordid backstory.

It wasn't who I thought it was all along-
It turns out that it was the guitarist in the band I'm currently playing in.
He's been married three years.
His wife just had a baby.
They were carrying on while his wife was pregnant.

It's pretty much blown up now, so I really could give a flying fuck who reads this.

He was the one who was the sympathetic ear while she was wallowing in whatever she was wallowing in- (I never did get a straight answer..)

I should have known, really- Except that I have this misplaced trust in human nature. I assumed that his constant repetition proclaiming his happiness were to be taken at face value.

Good Lord, those two are like dysfunctional super-heroes.. The depths of their .. What would you call it? Whatever it is that they tell themselves so they can sleep at night must be quite a repertoire.

But, I digress.
We had a conversation, and I made the classic mistake of blowing up after seething all day. I wasn't unnesesarily cruel, but I said very true things in a very harsh manner.
It makes me angry.
It makes me sad.
It's supposed to make me all of those things, I guess. I don't have to like it, I just have to man up and deal with it, so I called.
I was hoping for some closure so I could try to find some shred of forgiveness in myself.

The whole conversation became a perfect illustration of why we didn't work, me trying to break her so she'd admit something close to responsibility. That didn't work and it never did- We never knew how to resolve anything, so I can pinpoint that as a major contributing factor. Neither would give an inch lest we face total annihilaltion, or so it seemed.
The only thing I ever did was make her accountable, and tell the truth. She clearly doesn't function well under those circumstances. She claims, and rightly so, it would seem- That I was hard to open up to, and that I had given my heart away to someone else long before her.
Whoo.. Boy was she wrong on the last one.

There were just as many bad times as good, sadness and joy, but it was the passing of an era. I felt it ringing ike a bell inside me- denial, anger, sadness and finality, but worst of all.. My own naivete' and stupidity. I feel wholly unequipped to deal with any of this. It's like I was stripped of all my petty illusions, and I felt very naked.

They have 12 step programs for addiction, but how about stupid? Any clues?
Anybody?

Still Here

2005-10-14T12:54:00.000-04:00

Well, not to be too cryptic, but at some point I will spell out in detail the extent of the ex's implosion.
Let's just say that when it blows up, there aren't too many places she can show her face.
Oh, it's.. Disturbing.

To be honest, I am having a hard time with wanting to grab a lawn chair, a bowl of popcorn and just sit back and watch.

Here's the dilemna I face- Carrying around resentment is unhealthy, and forgiveness is much easier on the soul. However, after six years of being called paranoid, I am looking at vindication. The problem also lies in the fact that when this does blow, I will be part of the gossip, (in a bystander kind of way) and they (yes, there's a "they") have managed to blow crap over everyone involved with them. He WAS one of my best friends.

I have managed to forgive him, and even tell him so- because he was man enough to come to me.
Her?
We'll see.

As for her, I can resist the urge to point and laugh, because the situation is just so.. Stupid, sick and completely devoid of judgment. Both are morally bankrupt, but that kind of syntax means nothing to her. It either doesn't compute because she hasn't developed the emotional maturity to comprehend what it really means, or her super powers of denial will kick in.
I'm torn.. I want to grab her by the shoulders and call her all kinds of names, say cruel things, treat her with contempt, but-
Now, everyone else will be doing that, since people do love to gossip and pass judgement. She didn't ever do anything to them, and it seems like I should be the one who gets to do that.
I also know that I would be immediately sorry if I did.

Forgive.
I find it hard to extend forgiveness to someone who refuses to be accountable for what they do.

Move on.
I also find it hard to believe that I thought she was the best I could ever do.

Accept.
I thought she was the best I could ever do is the hardest to swallow, because it speaks volumes about me.

Sougata done Carpet Bombed me with a question.

2005-10-08T21:11:00.000-04:00

Brief Introductions are in order:
Sougata, (Whose blog is a must read, if you haven't by now..) poked his head into my comments section, wrote something cryptic, and then stopped short, leaving K~ and I with a bad case of questionus interruptus.
Puzzled, we asked him to elaborate.
So..You think of yourself as an intelligent person? Heheh..Your self-image will suffer a radical upheaval after a dose of the Bengali Brain Trust.
Oh, sure- When we first started trading comments, he kept the meter turned way down, and I thought of him as this nice, agreeable Indian person who spoke and wrote the King's english better than I. However, time has progressed, and he's been turning up the wattage on me. It's like running on a treadmill that picks up speed just as you start sucking wind.
There are times when I just sit back and shake my head... He's just that damn good.

So, without further ado, I give you his question, which was probably tapped out in a quick stream of consciousness.

[Here's the question that I threatened to ask in the comment to your previous post. Light a cigarette, this is gonna be long.]

Humans do a lot of strange things. One of the strangest among these, is this: From time to time in our lives, we walk up to a particular person, and for no apparently good reason, inform them that we love them.

I'm sure that most people take this practice as quite normal; but there is a certain thing about this whole deal that I find totally bewildering.

What puzzles me is not so much that we choose a particular person to be weak for -- there may be a host of physiological and psychological reasons for that; what puzzles me is the difficulty we face in finding an acceptable substitute for our Chosen (TM), should the need ever arise. And sometimes the difficulty is a lifelong one.

There are many ways to look at this, but from a purely demographic angle, it makes no sense to me. There are damn near six billion people on earth. From this seething mass of humanity, why do we tag a particular, exclusive person to be in love with? Why, pretty please, do we miss the sound of a particular voice? Why do we miss saying one particular name out loud?

That is the question.

Personally, if I were asked what I see in a particular person, I would maybe rattle off a list of adjectives. In a mildly reductionist sense, it is possible to describe a person by a set of attributes. Therefore, perfunctory logic would suggest that if we discovered a person with the same set of attributes as our Chosen, we have also found an acceptable substitute for him/her, true? Sounds plausible, but simple observation tells me that in a distressingly large number of cases, it ain't so. Why?

Let's talk a little about these attributes. We can describe a person a million ways, but let's distill all those descriptions into two sweeping categories.

First, there are the Broad Characteristics. Things like intelligence, integrity, physical beauty, family values, social values. I call them broad, because it would seem that these would carry a lot of weight in the evaluation of a person.

And then there are the Little Things. Like how she used to turn and hold her head a little to the side when she was paying attention. Like how her eyes used to first flash and then narrow when she was mad. Like how her lips used to purse into a thin but delicious line when she was merely annoyed.

Oh you know, stuff like that. Unimportant, minor stuff.

... An exquisite, delightful, thin line.

Now here's something that is really mysterious. Let us say that I set out to find a substitute for my Chosen. I could, if I really really tried, meet perhaps a couple hundred women over my lifetime through the regular process of social networking. I don't think this is an exaggerated number in today's connected world. And as noted earlier, I will still find it very difficult to find a substitute. But why the heck is this the case? I find it very hard to believe that it is impossible to find -- among several hundred persons -- a person with a set of Broad Characteristics that is the same or better than our Chosen. Is it so very difficult to find someone whose intelligence, beauty and integrity match or exceed those of our Chosen? I don't think so.
[Note that I am making the rash assumption here that most folks' Chosen ones are not a cross between Einstein, Zeta-Jones and Lincoln. That WOULD be difficult to match.]

So what are we saying here? That it is not the broad characteristics that we seek when we seek to find a substitute? That we are, horror of horrors, shallow? That Love itself is shallow? Because it always, always, seeks those Little Things? Those Little Things which are impossible to find duplicates of. Is this why we cannot find her?

[P.S. I ask this question of you -- Rob and ~K and whoever else indulgent enough to read this -- only after asking it of myself. And I don't have the answer. So this is not an indirect sermon or hidden message of some sort. Far from it. Please let that be known and understood. And quite frankly, it is a pointless question. A pointless or content-free question is a question that when you have an answer to, you are no better off or enlightened than you were before. This question satisfies that classic definition quite nicely ;-)]

Well, let's see here. I've loaded Joe Ely in the background, because nothing says 'existential' like Texas Honky Tonk...
(I'll play "Bob Hope" to Sougata's "Einstein".)

To condense Sougata's flawless prose into idiotese so that I can wrap my brain around it-
His question appears to boil down to this: Why, oh, why- Do we pine for a certain individual? When this person is no longer suitable or available for a variety of reasons, what do we look for in our next emotional adventure? Are we merely looking for an emotional placebo of sorts ever after? Are the inevitable comparisons fair, and do we actively seek a clone or at the very least- A reasonable facsimile?

Based on my extensive research in the field, I can only offer these observations, and- keep in mind- They only apply to me.

I've always chosen my objet d'affection for various reasons- This is due, in large part, to my mental/emotional state at the time. One should also keep in mind that it's cumulative starting from your first "Real Relationship". You are starting to form ideas in your head about what is attractive, what makes you feel funny down in your tummy, and how you handle all the things that putting your eggs in someone else's basket can bring.

There were women that on paper- Were all but perfect. Smart, cute, willing to dote on me endlessly. Needless to say, they never went anywhere, because- Where's the challenge in that?

It would appear that the ones that affect us deeply are the ones that challenge us- Not just emotionally or mentally, our standing in society as we perceive it. What about the woman that is a little out of our league? Your mental state, or self-image comes in to play. Eventually, the novelty wears off and you move in to another territory, taking with you some of the likes and dislike accumulated from your fling with the debutante.

Now, let's say you fall for the rough-around-the-edges, sassy type- The sex is better, but on your feet, you can't get along to save your lives.
What have we learned?
So far, we know that we like a challenge, wether that be socially, or in the day to day interaction, the struggle for control that happens in every relationship.

I think Sougata is wondering why one person works their way into our hearts, creating a standard that we use to measure all others against.

There have been those in my life. There was a woman that I had fallen hopelessly for, but I was unwilling to yield to certain conditions that she demanded be met. Later, after both of us had acquired a few dents in our armor, we were able to date briefly. I say briefly, because the idea of her had been replaced by another, who had made the biggest impression on me to date. (See what I mean by "cumulative"?)

I think everybody has that someone. The memories that float up while you're driving, or that gut-feeling you get when you see them even after time has passed. If you're lucky, you deal with it as a passing of an era, an event whose time has passed. If you're not, you live in the shadow of that relationship. You try to fit others into that ideal, like trying to screw new bulbs into a lamp whose switch is broken, saying to yourself- "This time it'll work".
It never does.

In essence, a little wistfulness is okay- Fun, even.
If you find all others pale and tepid by comparison- Even if you have vetted them for all of the aforementioned charactersitics as defined by Sougata- You have to come to terms with what it is that pushed all your buttons.

If you're like me- Usually it means that you have some baggage to cut loose.

Much ado about nothing

2005-10-06T22:53:00.000-04:00

Much fanfare, little substance.

I have almost nothing of importance to ponder, nothing of note, no drama, no sophmoric pranks to recall with childish glee..

I got nuthin'.

I did direct choir for my Mother this evening- She is a pianist, and is playing classical music for a gaggle of doctors at Hershey Medical Center. They can be a tough crowd, nor I do not envy her for having to play music that is revered, worshipped and analyzed by a crowd that fancies themselves demi-gods, qualified to judge and critique most anything.
In short- M.D's are a pain in the ass when they're slightly tipsy and off the clock.

My day, you ask?
Well.
Everything I touched turned into a major project.
Nosirree, no quick fixes were on my plate today. I scurried down the hall, a serious frown on my face, badges flapping wildly in time with my purposeful stride and stepped into a cubicle housing one ego entirely to small for the work space he so obviously deplored. His greeting was one of irritation, waving his hand imperiously at the error message on his screen.
The "Disk Full"message displayed prominently on his oversized LCD monitor mocked him, an electronic roadblock in his quest for academic accolades.

He was pacing back and forth, a caged animal being kept from his prey. There was really only one thing I could do, given his penchant for browbeating the lowly geeks..

I opened the explorer window, checked the "display hidden files and folders" box and said in my best basso profundo..

"Holy Crap, THAT's a lot of Porn!"

I expect I won't get nearly so much attitude from our resident prima donna next time, especially since the sound of muffled guffaws coming from the surrounding cubicles added a nice counterpoint to my look of disgust.

Moral of the story? Don't give me shit when I've got my hands full undoing your mess, folks.

(I bet you are wishing for drama, now aren't you?)

Long and windy.

2005-10-02T21:55:00.000-04:00

It's Sunday night, the laundry is done, and I made steak for dinner.
Life is good, no?

I watched my Grandfather this morning, since no one was around to keep an eye on him. He likes his Sunday morning preachers- in his prime, he was one himself. Today, he was pretty sharp. Talkative and hungry.
Hey- At 96, he can watch whatever he damn well pleases. Given the fact that he was one of your typical fire-and-brimstone types, his fondness for Robert Schuller puzzles me- I think he admires the spectacle of it all, but the glitz is far, far away from his style. The message is the same, but the delivery was vastly different. He was/is one of those rare people that treats everyone the same, regardless of rank, wealth or character. As a missionary in Africa, he was just as at home with the penniless as he was with dignitaries- An unusual trait these days. He spent far more time with the penniless.

I made him oameal, a small serving of peaches.. And a strawberry milkshake.
I know, I know- (See the above rule about being 96...) If he wants a milkshake for breakfast, then he gets one. He insists on going to Old Country Buffet in his pajamas, so propriety is pretty much out the window anyway.

The four-day stand from hell is over, minus the usual angst and hand wringing that used to accompany those gigs. Fuck it.
It's just another bar full of your run-of-the-mill barflies. I used to be one, so don't think for a minute that I'm getting self-righteous, but I don't make it the center of my universe anymore.
That has paid off handsomely in terms of perspective.
The Ex? She was there every night save one. I made the mistake of telling someone how much work it was maintaining my sanity when she was there, so word must've gotten back. When she's in school, she doesn't work weekdays, in order to concentrate on homework. I hope it was worth it for her. It was slow, so I know she didn't make much money. I refuse to talk to her anymore than absolutely nessesary, in a "The-building-is-on-fire" kind of way. Other than that, I got nuthin'.
Oh, don't get me wrong.. I had my moments- In my mind, she should be withering away, pining for me, wishing against all odds that I'll come running back. I found it greatly annoying that she has the nerve to date someone else. It got really surreal for a moment when he sat in with us and he was singing to her, but I refuse to suck my thumb. I let her go for damn good reasons, so sucking my thumb over a natural process is just stupid. It took some work and anger to get to that point but.. It's worth it.

The dating scene for me? Well.

I wouldn't say that I'm dating- It's more like old-school courting.
Slow doesn't even begin to cover it.
We've been on two dates, a couple of stay-at-home movie nights, and I've been excusing myself at a decent hour- Minus any serious physical contact.
She is something else, let me tell ya. She has a master's degree, is a widow with no children, and is so friggin' smart, it's frightening. She's also incredibly normal, funny as hell, focused and has her own life. I have absolutley no idea what she sees in me, but I must imitate normal pretty well. She has her issues stemming from her late husband's death, but she's handled it like she does everything else. Very nuts-and-bolts, practical and with great determination. This explains the slow pace, but it's nice to see that you can like someone for who they are on their feet as opposed to the pretty faces they make in bed.

There are no garantees that we'll ever even get to a point where we're "dating", but I don't really need one. It will be what it will be.

R

I'm baaaaaack...

2005-09-28T16:17:00.000-04:00

Okay- the quick and short explanation is this.

1) I was tired of being neurotic and miserable, and writing about nothing but being neurotic and miserable.
2) What I was doing wasn't working.
3) I just kind of shut down and hit the "pause" button.

Now- I'm still neurotic and miserable, but that's given way to a general constant feeling of being pissed. I rather like it.
I stopped going to AA meetings. A room full of semi-crazy people talking about being crazy wasn't helping. (No, I have no intention of drinking..) I still follow the program, but I can be just as sober and crazy in the comfort of my home.

I stopped taking anti-depressants, and the only noticeable side-effect is the fact that I can't sleep as well. I can take ambien for that.

I am going to the gym. I am sore. It feels good to be sore.

I am playing tonite again for the all too often 4 nite stand at the place I loathe- The Winner's Circle. Same old, same old, in the front of the same old people talking about the same old shit, doing the same old dances. I think everybody's slept with everyone else in there, and it passes for normal.

(I may ponder the possibility of quitting this band if I still feel like a nut case after this week. It just ain't worth it. )

See? I'm still a F%^%ing nut case.

Big Brass Ones

2005-09-05T22:56:00.000-04:00

I’m addicted to ITunes.

I keep finding really cool songs I haven’t heard in ages. Most of them seem to fall into the blues/R&B category, but there’s some downright cheese in there as well. Old Ambrosia, Poco, The Motels, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Gladys Knight, and much, more..
I also watched "Sin City" and "Sahara" today- "Sin City" rocks, and "Sahara" is a good escape flick. I wasn't in the mood for deep cinema, so I had a good time kicked on the couch today. I would recommend both.

The Big Brass Ones Award

My friend AKP who comments here sometimes is a Red Cross volunteer. Not only does she owe me happy free range boobies (She thinks I’ve forgotten, but no man EVER forgets boobs. Ever.) but she also has big brass ones and is going down in a few weeks.

Donate. They seem to be the only ones with their act together anyway.

NOLA

The left has never been so glad to see so much suffering, only because they can work themselves into self-righteous apoplexy and spit and rant about Bush. They are obsessed well past the point of reason. Everyone is going to catch some crap over this, but they have conveniently overlooked all of that, seeing a prime opportunity, and they sure as hell aren’t going to let a thing like suffering get in the way. Bush could wade into neck deep sewage, rescue a child and the left would Photoshop “Mission Accomplished” behind him and start calling him “Chimpy McWetsuit”. He certainly bears SOME responsibility, but he also gets credit for not barging in right away, letting the respective agencies do their job. He came in a day late, but there’s more than enough blame to go around. As far as race is concerned. I really wish everyone would STFU. At no point does anyone get a free pass from normal standards of behavior because of the color of their skin, white or black. I also think relief would have been faster had they behaved themselves. White or black. A lot of those people are on public assistance, and the Hurricane hit at the end of the month when checks don’t come in until the first of the month, hence all the poor got themselves stuck. Wishing it were different doesn’t get them out of the city prior to the disaster. It’s just simple fact.

The left have lost their f-ing minds. I avoid Fark like the plague, because it’s not only political now, it’s also getting really racial. Ugly stuff.

Again- Donate. You know how to find the Red Cross.

Shock and dismay.

2005-09-01T21:23:00.000-04:00

Oh. My. God.

I am appalled at the slow respose from all levels of government. If we can pull off the Berlin Airlift, we sure as hell can help these people. Granted, I think some of them have an overdeveloped sense of entitlement, but hungry is hungry, and thirsty is thirsty, and desperate is desperate. Just show a little restraint, people. It'll happen. Help IS coming. We don't let our own wither on the vine.

CNNwas gushing- Yes, gushing.. Yesterday they were practically ecstatic over the coverage possibilities, but today, the enormity seems to have set in. They are no longer fondling themselves at the thought of ratings- they're just as shell shocked as we are.
I had a nice little rant brewing over the left and the glee they exhibit in blaming Bush, but I deleted it. Now is not the time.

Donate any way you can.

Last week sucked.

2005-08-29T21:32:00.000-04:00

Okay, okay, I'm sorry.

I have been very busy this last week. Blogging definitely took a back seat.

The match.com thing really needs to take it's own course. The last girl was very nice, but it comes down to me being ready, able and willing to participate in a real relationship. I am in no way, shape or form- ready. Would I like to snuggle on the couch, give bad fashion advice, hold hands, go out to eat, and all that "new relationship" stuff?
Sure.

But when it comes down to getting close, opening up and letting someone in, all I can say is-
No. Way.

The good news is- I didn't toy with anyone's emotions just to disover that fact. Nothing's worse than jumping into a new relationship just to discover that you really don't want to be there.

Last week introduced me to a whole new level of hell. Work sucked, everything I touched turned to shit, and I was written up for being tardy. Bad Rob! Bad!
I just spent four straight days in a bar- My old hangout- The band was playing, so it was like work.
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.

I just spent my 40th birthday in the bar I used to get blind drunk in on my birthdays..
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.

I spent Saturday night watching the ex work the room, instead of pining and being miserable like she's supposed to. (That's self-deprecating humor, folks..)
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.

Let it be known, yet again- Last week sucked ass.

No more whing. I'm done.

Tag- I'm it

2005-08-23T23:45:00.000-04:00

~K done tagged me. Okay, I volunteered- but regardless, here goes...

10 Years Ago~ I was 29. Skinny, fearless and my singing voice was maturing. I was in a great band, running up and down the east coast on a bus, living on ephedrine, chicken breast salads and Jack Daniels, staying up too late with people I hardly knew. I was making a living playing a guitar. I was paying my rent and utilities just by singing and being ogled by little Kelly Bundys in cowboy boots.

5 Years Ago~ Band life was taking its toll. I was surrounded by people who wanted to be seen with me. We were getting major label attention. I was still partying like a 19 year old, but by this time I had decided I was going to try to find someone to settle down with. After a few fits and starts, I thought I had found the one. We all know how that ended.

Yesterday~ I worked. I took a nap. I ate wings. I watched football. It was a good day.

5 snacks I enjoy~
1) I enjoy brownies.
2) I enjoy popcorn.
3) I enjoy tastycake apple pies.
4) I enjoy sunflower seeds.
5) I enjoy cheese.

5 songs I know all the words to.

Yikes.. You’d be amazed at how many I don’t know the words to. On stage even.
1) Whenever You Come Around (Vince Gill)
2) Don’t Dream it’s Over (Crowded House)
3) Cant’ Always Get What You Want (Stones)
4) Just a Closer Walk With Thee
5) Wild One (BR-549)

5 Things I'd do with a million dollars.
1) I would build me a big-ass house. With a big-ass garage. And a big-ass deck. And a big-ass hot tub.
2) I would travel.
3) I would change my phone number.
4) I would buy a Ferrari.
5) I would give some to charity. –Shelters, rehabs, job training, etc.

5 Places I'd run away to.
1) My bed..
2) Australia
3) The Shower.
4) Japan.
5) Jennifer Anniston’s house..

5 Things I'd never wear.
1) A thong. No “marble bags” for this boy.
2) pigtails
3) a dress
4) A speedo
5) Chaps.

5 Favorite TV shows.
1) Reno 911
2) MythBusters
3) Rides
4) ER
5) Whose Line

5 Biggest joys.
1) My Daughter

2) A really fat groove- My bass is so thick it’s moving furniture out in the club.
3) Tight Harmony.
4) A good night’s sleep.
5) Cooking out on the grill.

5 Favorite toys.
1) My guitar
2) My computer
3) My IPod
4) My XM Radio
5) My XBox

Monday.

2005-08-22T22:47:00.000-04:00

I'm watching the Cowboys, eating wings and blogging. Madden is yammering as he usually does, but he kinda grows on ya. I'll miss him when he retires. My Cowboys are looking really ragged, but it's way too early for predictions- I have hope, but I'm watching with some expectations of a mediocre season. Personally, I think a lot of the Tuna's success was due to Belachek, who is now making football look as exiting as baking a cake.

I have nothing to write about, so this might just be a stream of consciousness- The dating thing has been the center of my universe as of late, and that's hardly healthy, is it? It will be what it will be, and I have to deal with crossing thresholds I'm not ready to cross.

Jeez.. Having a conscience blows.
My 96 year old Grandfather is wearing down my Parents, and I'm having a hard time with setting boundaries- My mother cannot plan ahead if you held a gun to her head. She lives on her own little planet, which passes reality only so often. She calls, wanting me to drop everything so she can run errands for two hours which morphs into four. I have not answered the phone lately and I feel like a total shithead. What kind of son does this? One that needs to teach someone the meaning of planning ahead. I am not liking "me" at the moment- I doubt she'll ever get the concept of planning, so ... Crap. I will cave in. I always feel like I've done something worthwhile afterwards anyway. He can't help the fact that he's a handful.

The date Part II

2005-08-21T22:26:00.000-04:00

Okay.. Where was I?

Well. It went very well, considering all the things that could have gone wrong. I still am not ready for the "relationship" thing yet, no matter how many good things I see in a person- I will end up finding things wrong with them.

So.

You could say I'm afraid, but I'd say closer to stark, raving terror would be more like it.

Do I like her personality so far? Yes.
Would I like to see her again? Yes.
Could I see myself dating her? Not yet.

She's intelligent, reasonably attractive, has enough sense to want to go slow, but..

I admit it. I'm looking for someone who pushes every button I have. This may take a while, and this is a process. I keep forgetting that until I start looking at the person as someone I'd like to date. I hit the wall at that point.
I've hit several walls, but- At least I'm not trying to create silk purses from sow's ears.

So- I will continue to see this person, but... Slowly. And with much caution.

God, I'm weird.

Gossip, rumors and propaganda

2005-08-21T17:23:00.000-04:00

Howdy all..

We'll get right to the juicy gossip.

I finally coaxed her down to come along to a private party we played yesterday. This- in and of itself- took some courage on her part, since I would be stuck on stage most of the time, and she would know noone. After some intense negotioations, I closed the deal, she came down from an hour away. I found a suitable babysitter, introduced them, since he is both a gentleman, and has just enough dirt on me to keep her entertained.

That worked rather well, as he kept plying her with Captain and Cokes to keep her chatty, but not too much where she became the life of an already lively party. Gotta love a good wingman.

She didn't look exactly like her pictures, since she is a photographer and knows how to work all the tools- But, she wasn't so far away from that that I wanted to run. I have now learned that pics are pretty useless for forming an impression of someone.

We played, got packed up, dodging errant fireworks being set off by some very drunk people, but managed to escape unsinged. Let's see.. After that?

It's late by this point, she knows that driving an hour is not smart, but doesn't want to stay here - Not because I'm some hornbag, but more towards the "uncomfortable imposing on me" side.
I've never had to talk a woman INTO pajamas before, but I loaned her some suitably comfortable shorts, a big tee shirt and tucked her in on the couch.
I went to bed.

She snuck out about six AM, unable to sleep in a starnge environment- But I had no idea, since I was sleeping like a dead man.

To be continued..

As Ordered.. New Post.

2005-08-18T19:50:00.000-04:00

~K has informed that I'm lagging behind in my blogging duties. I humbly obey.

I have almost nothing to report, really.
The girl I'd been emailing finally called last night- but only because she needed help with her computer.. I did what any self-respecting geek would do- I promptly blackmailed her and said I don't do support via E-mail.. She'd have to call.
Heh..I never did end up solving the problem, but we did talk for three hours.

In other news, it turns out she's a photographer, and has some very nice pictures of herself.

No, no.. Not THAT nice. Very subtle, and implied. I opened them, and the first words out of my mouth were- And I quote- "Daaay-umm!"
Can I get an "Amen"?

The post where I work had "Bomb" training today.. The MP's were practically fondling themselves in anticipation. The local news channels looked bored, but only because they were being tightly herded together and browbeaten by the Public Affairs office. It never affected my office, so for me- It was a yawner.
I was hoping I'd be taken hostage by the mock terrorists so I could moon the MP's claiming that my captors had ordered me to. It was not to be.

Apparently I'm not hostage material.

And so it goes..

2005-08-16T15:57:00.000-04:00

Well, I have to admit...

The whole speed at which things progressed during the lunch date really rattled my cage. She has since called to apologize (twice) but fortunately I had my cell off. I will call her tonite and put the brakes on it a little. Maybe a lot. I really don’t want to go that fast with anyone, let alone her. To be honest, I think I am something she wants- Not necessarily me, as who I am. I think she’s used to making relationships out of what happened Saturday. Nope. Not my style anymore. I won’t try to make something out of this with the speed and ease of buying a scratch off lottery ticket.

In other news, the one I’ve been trying to meet face to face is progressing nicely. We do one big email a day, covering all kinds of topics. Slow is good. I like slow.

2005-08-14T22:12:00.000-04:00

Wow.. Where to begin.

My lunch date yesterday yielded some interesting blog fodder. (See? I knew something good would come out of it.) We agreed to meet for a quick, casual lunch Saturday afternoon, midway between her place and mine. She was punctual, about 25lbs heavier than her pics, but pretty much as advertised. Pretty face, great eyes. We ordered, exchanged the usual nice-to-meet-you-in person things, and other snall talk. Over the course of conversation when our food arrived, it was revealed the she used to work at Hooter's, and then tend bar in a strip club in Baltimore. (Okay, so I won't be taking this one home to meet Mom anytime soon..)

The Hooter's thing is pretty easy to write off- Anybody with decent looks would probably make a killing.. The strip club? Alarm bells. She doesn't strike me as the type to be paying for her master's degree by moonlighting in a strip club. (Just a hunch.) She has children, and they're adorable, so we looked at pictures, while keeping the conversation vague, punctuated by her touching my hands for emphasis.

Okay- This lasts about 45 minutes, and I'm getting a better read on her by this point- I'm still keeping an open mind, but I'm not "feeling" it. This, I think- Is a lonely girl at home with her daughters, trying to find somebody with a bar-scene vibe since she can't get out much. I do give her mad props for having those priorities in order.

I pay the tab, and we walk out to the parking lot (keep in mind, it's 90-plus degrees outside) and I walk her to her car.

Here's where it gets interesting.

I was thinking hug, she was thinking kiss. Okay, a quick kiss it is.
No.
This was grab-the-back-of-my-head, movie/hollywood attack kiss. Once I got over the initial surprise, I jumped in with both feet. Briefly. For about a minute, at which point the launch sequence was being initiated, so I pulled away, said "Yikes.. I gotta go.." and bolted for my car.

I made sure her car started and was moving, and shot off down the highway as fast as ol' faitfull would go- Which wasn't very fast, since I also had the AC on high..

She calls me on the cell about a minute later, and I stammer that I had to go, or it would have gone a lot farther that I wanted to go at that point. She agreed.

Fast forward to two A.M.

The guitarist and I are pondering life's mysteries as we always do after gigs, and my cell phone rings. Somehow, I just know..
Tenative "hello" after verifying the number, and lo-and-behold, it's her.. Drunk. Apparently feeling amorous since her married girlfriend had picked up some guy at the bar, and she wanted a playtoy too. I listened politely for a few minutes, tried to keep the conversation focused on mundane things, and make up an excuse that I had to go, since I was almost home.

All this from a few conversations on the phone and lunch? Yeesh- Imagine what a nice dinner might have gotten me.

2005-08-12T21:49:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the nice comments-
I'm trying to find less mundane things to take pics of, and that's proving difficult. I took the picture of the truck- Well.. Because I could. I never really thought of it as a "nice" truck, just friggin' bulletproof and dependable as all hell. It's clean and understated, and will go damn near anywhere, hauls my gear, doesn't mind minor abuse and protests a little at anything over 80 MPH.

In other news, the match.com thingie is progressing nicely. I have a lunch date tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes. The first test is to see if she matches her profile pics. If she does, then .. BOO-ya! God, I hope she has a brain, though. Boobs can be found- to greater or lesser degrees- on every woman on the planet.

The one woman who I have become totally fascinated by finally emailed me two days ago. Her profile caught me in two or three sentences, it was that good, and then.. I saw the pics.. *cue angels singing* If you heard any odd noises, that was my jaw hitting my keyboard. The emails have been intriguing the questions fun, keeping in mind that expectations are a dangerous thing. At the moment, I am trying to lure her into meeting face-to-face, having convinced her (Mwahaha..) that I'm harmless and sane.

Off to find chloroform.

My new digital Camera came in..

2005-08-11T21:52:00.000-04:00

Old Faithfull.

Me.

I'm a "Gadget Slut"

2005-08-09T15:10:00.000-04:00

Balajee left a comment in response to yetserday's post, suggesting that we post pictures of ourselves with "Junk" of a different nature..
NOW we're talkin'.

You've heard comedians talk about what ment think about all the time-Jeff Foxworthy postulates that we, as men- would "like a beer and we'd like to see sump'n nekkid". Not bad.

In my particular case, speaking as a card-holding member of the male species, I would like to put forth that all men have A.D.D.
Ladies, how many times have you been out to eat with your S.O., venting about your boss, your best friend's wedding, and so on, only to see his attention immediately caught by something shiny- Or, something curvy? I've done it. I can be mid-conversation. doing my best "attentive listener" imitation, and stop mid-sentence when I see someone walk by with a new phone, or a blackberry, or a new PDA. I've been known to sit open mouthed, staring at women in beer commercials, gazing in rapt fascination at the TV just over her head. I cannot help it.

So, back to Balajee's idea- Post pictures of ourselves with gadgets. Mmmm.. Maybe. I can tell you what I have thus far- Two guitars, three amps, a big screen sony, a sony clie' (PDA) my PC is pretty hot- Hardware wise- I have big honkin' speakers for it, I have XM satellite radio in my truck, I have a 94 Z-28, a Foreman grill (The bachelor's best friend..) an IPod, and so on..

Now.. My wish list? Dual flat panel LCD monitors (21 inch, no less) a blackberry (which would be immediately useless, since I don't get that many interesting E-mails) , a digital recording studio, (best used on MAC's which I hate..) And..
Rachel Wiesz or Sandra Bulllock. Kate Beckinsdale will do as a fill in, and I hear Jennfer Anniston is in need of a good shoulder to cry on.

That should do for starters.

Of boredom at work, kink, gadgets and gizmos

2005-08-08T16:03:00.000-04:00

I'm at work, and I'm bored. Who'da thunkit? It alternates between dull, mundane maintenance to all hell "holy-shit-what-was-that!" mayhem breaking loose. Right now, it's dead.

I was scanning RP's blog comments for neat blogs (His comments window is a goldmine of good blogs, BTW..) and I ran across this and this.. Now, don't get me wrong, I surely don't think RP is a clearing house for kink, because his blog is as well-mannered as they come. However, here and there, you find the private thoughts like the above linked blogs.

I never knew.. Okay, scratch that. I DID know that women have a very erotic side to them, but it's like cracking a safe. You don't get the combination handed to you, and some you never really crack at all. Others just give you a peek before slamming the door shut and changing the combo. And, like anything else, the longer you're at it the better you get at cracking said safes. Now, I'm not talking about just doing the "deed" here, I'm talking about getting inside the secret garden- The high holy place where all the naughty little creatures come out to play. The dark side. The places she wishes you'd find, but is a little ashamed of, yet at the same time pushes every button she has. That's cracking the safe.

I think blogging with its "Public Anonymity" had given rise to a whole new breed of erotica. "Sex in the City" for errant housewives and mousy secretaries. For all we know, they could be butt-ugly, doing the nasty with a man known simply as "B" who, in real life- Happens to be the trash collector with a beer gut, dirty wife beater and a four-day beard. Maybe not.. I have my suspicions, though.

In other most-definitely-NOT-erotica-related news.. I bought me a spiffy new Didgeetail Camery (That's "Digital Camera" for you not fluent in RedNeckinese). I shall soon be posting pictures of myself (fully clothed) wallowing in gadget ecstasy. (Why do guys send women pictures of their "Junk", anyway?)

Fielding questions from the gallery..

2005-08-07T14:37:00.000-04:00

I just read a comment im my last post that made me stop in my tracks and think. Usually Sougata is the only person who can throw a wrench in my mental gears, but I have to admit- The poster had a point.

Her comment was thus-
Rob, you show so many different sides of yourself in your postings. How would someone know which is real? The booby obsessed player or the wanting to find an honest and loving relationship type of man? I would love to hear a deeper explanation of who you are.
Hell, I'd love an explanation of who I am, but at best, all I can give you is a feeble attempt.

Where to begin my impromptu self-analysis? We'll start here.
Rob, you show so many different sides of yourself in your postings. How would someone know which is real?
How would one know? Even my family describes me as complex and aloof, at times. ("Aloof" is NOT snobbery by the way, it really means polite but reserved.) I'm not an open book, that's for sure. This is about as close as I get to hanging it all out there, and with the possible exception of the "boobie obsess-ee" no one in my day-to-day life reads this. I like it that way, so should I feel so inclined, I could vent and call them shitheads, should I feel the need. In short- To know me is to be perplexed.

Next-
The booby obsessed player or the wanting to find an honest and loving relationship type of man?
Hmm.. Player? Not really. Flirt, maybe, but not a player. Which is not to say that in my past life I wasn't one- My numbers stand at just under a hundred, and I'm trying to keep it that way. It's not hard, really. When I was a drunken musician slut, it never occured to me to say "no". These days? The only place I stand to get into trouble is when I'm playing, and drunk chicks annoy the hell out of me to the point of being rude. If you're too drunk to complete a sentence in under thirty seconds, there's a good chance that I'm not as cute as you think I am. I have been known to walk away while the befuddled drunken suitor struggles to comprehend why her mouth won't work right and why she's staring at my back.
Even my ex- with all her issues- could never accuse me of being untrustworthy. I was manaical about being monogomous.

The "boobie" thing? I was trying to get a reaction out of someone who is as aloof as I am, getting her to think about really inapropriate behavior in an environment that doesn't condone such behavior. It's called "getting a rise" out of someone, making them blush, or giggle. Oh, don't get me wrong- Had it happened, I would have looked, but that's as far as it would have gone, believe me.

At this point I'd freak if I actually DID find an honest, loving relationship. I'd panic and run, only to be rightfully accused of being a commitment-phobe. It's too early, and the Match.com thing is really an experiment- I doubt after two weeks I'll find the "one" and be happy ever after. It's probably going to be a process, albeit a sometimes tedious one- But sometimes enjoyable nonetheless, provided I keep it all in perspective.

The latest adventures..

2005-08-04T21:32:00.000-04:00

It's been a few days,..

I've been busy updating my profile, E-stalking potential dates, and trying to find a picture of me that doesn't make me look as if I have gas. At best, I have that look your dog gets when you leave him behind as you go out the door.

So far, I've received a few interesting offers, namely from a matronly sort claiming to be 41, but if I were a betting man, I'd lay heavy odds on just shy of 55. I get the distinct impression she wants a cabana boy, preferably one with very poor eyesight and no depth perception.

*sigh* bummer. Too bad I have a day job.

I went to a phillies game last night with one of the more interesting responses, totally last minute with one of the people I met online. Considering we got a late start, got lost en route to collect the tickets and only caught the last 3 innings, it wasn't bad. It could have been sooo much worse, and believe me, I thought twice about spending two and a half hours in a car with someone I barely knew.
It went well, we had fun, but I refuse to go any further than this. We IM'ed for a little bit prior, and she's very nice- Lovely, in fact, but not in any way that makes me exitable. She's your typical big-boned greek girl, but you can't hold genetics against someone.

Al I know is - No more barflies. I don't care if she has one eye in the middle of her head, I'm not dating anymore cocktail waitresses.
I hope.

Okay, okay.. A real post.

2005-08-01T16:25:00.000-04:00

Okay- I got smacked by Sougata, who basically said "no more useless picture posts"

I'm playing hooky today, and I shouldn't have because I feel like I wasted the whole day. It's not like I dislike my job, so other than having a fit of the fuckits, I really should have just sucked it up and gone to work.

Last night, I signed up on match.com because I need to see how the dating thing actually works, as opposed to snagging the impressionable ones from the band scene.
Okay, it's probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, but besides getting stalked by some lunatic whose biological clock is ticking like Big Ben, how bad can it be?
I have the feeling that most of these women want the exact opposite of what they say they want. In ten minutes, I'll have the situation sized up and be forced to whip out my patented "dysfunctional bad boy" routine, after meeting the girl who said all she wanted is "a trustworthy honest man, into cooking, museums and music".
Translation: Looking for tattoed, crack-addled momma's boy with anger issues and no job."
Her pictures, cleverly posed to hide the enormous cardboard box of an ass, say "petite, fun-loving girl" and were taken fifteen years ago before she had two kids and a chocolate habit that masked the depression and low self esteem.

I'll keep you posted. I'm sure much blog fodder will come of it, if nothing else.

Yikes- Bitter, aren't I?

Nothin' .. I got nuthin.

2005-07-31T21:27:00.000-04:00

I have almost nothing to blog about today.

Soo, I will post random pictures from my collection, held in readiness for just such an occasion.

:WARNING: They have nothing to do with anything.

This is the closest this guy has ever gotten to having sex. Or proabably ever will.

Cats and captions.. What could be better?

The above is handy for arguing with 20-something english majors.

Ever have those days where you think to yourself- "My job sucks.."? It could always be worse.

2005-07-31T01:03:00.000-04:00

Considering that I am a professional geek, I am somewhat dismayed to discover that a newly purchased wireless keyboard causes a hardware conflict somewhere, and I'm too disgusted to pursue it any further.

I dick around with this stuff for 8 hours a day, so the last thing I want to do on my weekends is boot/reboot endlessly here in my house.

This was all part of my "go out and buy stuff" fit I had today.
You see, up until now I had a crappy keyboard that had the props broken off and a really cheapo office chair that I bought two years ago for like ten dollars. It's hard to type and be creative sitting on the equivalent of a crate. That had to be the least ergonomic piece of furniture ever designed. It was supposed to be a "student chair" and if so, that would explain the dropout rate in college these days.

Sooo.. Here I sit, kicked back in a leather chair that reclines alittle, with my keyboard firmly esconced in my lap, albeit with a cord tangled around my feet. The Mouse is nifty though.

We payed a gig at Bass Pro Shops today outdoors in the heat- Our guitarist made the wry observation that "You couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a redneck". That place is like nirvana for hunter/fishie/outdoorsy types.

This post is really going nowhere fast, isn't it?

I asked a woman out while I was tearing down- She was drop-dead gorgeous and totally out of my league, which is why I don't mind getting shot down in flames. I will ask again, and she'll probably say no, and I'll keep asking up to the point where it gets creepy. I am a very patient man.
It really has nothing to do with me being enamored or star-struck.. It's more like a challenge at this point. A pretty harmless one, provided I remember that it's all in fun, and has to remain so.

I look at it this way- I'm not hurting myself any by being single. The worst I'll get is carpal tunnel.

Of music and blogging.

2005-07-27T22:27:00.000-04:00

Violent Femmes…

Lemme go OOOUUUT like a blister in the Su-Un..

I love to revisit the 80’s from time to time.

That really has no bearing on anything except me playing a little music while I blog.

Tainted Lo-Oove … Don’t TOUUCH me PLEEZE, I cannot stand the way you..TEEZE

I’d be doing the “Carlton Dance” from “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” if I wasn’t typing. (Okay- pecking and backspacing a lot would be a more accurate description.)

The heat finally broke, with the promised cold front shepherding in a flock of pastel clouds just in time for sunset.

All I could think of (besides “wow”) was- Very “Velvet Elvis”.

In my warped little mind, the only thing missing was the ghost ship across the moon and the King taking a dump on the throne, backstopped by vague images of wolves howling at some forlorn memory of the biker who cut a few lines, chased it with a fifth of Jack, and rode off in the dark never to be seen again.

Not to poke fun of Mother Nature- who does marvelous work in my opinion- but rather, those cheesy tee-shirts seen at NASCAR races and roadside stands.

When I was a kid, the roadside stands would sell these paintings done on black velvet that were- to say the least- abhorrent to the eye, unless you had just done a lot of acid. At that point, I’m sure that and a blacklight kept you inside for a week.

Mostly, all I really remember about the seventies was the onset of puberty, avocado green shag carpet and burnt orange appliances. As a result, the very sight of shag carpet produces a spontaneous erection, and I begin to fear that I’ll be called up to the blackboard to my everlasting chagrin, while the girl with the Dorothy Hamil haircut points and laughs.

I spent my formative years in the Florida Panhandle.. There are MUCH worse places to go through puberty. No wonder they couldn’t get me to stay away from the beach.

Filler

2005-07-26T20:27:00.000-04:00

I’ve started out the last two posts with “I’m not really feeling..” so, in a fit of creativity I decided not to start this one out by “telling you how I’m feeling”. (Right now, I’m feeling full. The Foreman Grill is a bachelor’s best friend, bar none. Well, that and internet boobies.)

So much for creativity.

Lately, I haven’t even wanted to get drawn into any flamewars on Fark. It’s tiring arguing with someone who has passion, but no perspective on life. If your epic struggles in life add up to getting student loans and scoring a dime bag, come back and talk to me when you’ve actually done something in life. Parroting your English professor doesn’t count.

Fark discussions are where most of my outrage towards the left comes from anyway. I didn’t watch or listen to any of Live8- could care less, really. Multi-millionaires singing about poverty and injustice to a horde of infatuated dreamers is a little too ironic, if you ask me. They’ve stopped fondling themselves over the thought of indicting Karl Rove, so they’re back to calling Bush a chimp, and everything in Iraq is a quagmire.

Feh.

Delerium

2005-07-26T11:19:00.000-04:00

I'm not really feeling spunky today. Sleepy doesn't quite cover it, but I've already had too much coffee as it is. It's 90 plus degrees out, and I'm running from building to building- The concrete reflects all the sun and humidity back up at you.
In my mind, it's like scurrying across aluminum foil to make it to an oasis of AC.

For the first time, I'm glad my office is in the sub-basement, 40 feet below street level. If we get nuked, expect to hear from me shortly thereafter.

Sunday confessions.

2005-07-24T20:41:00.000-04:00

I'm not really feeling too "blogesque" or "bloggy" or "bloggerific" today for whatever reason. Maybe it's because I'm feeling guilty.
You see, I've been cheating on my Little Troll.

I was pursued.
I mean, it's not like I wanted to. The band website sucked (and still does) but noone else in the band has the time or the technical ability to do more than add silly random animated .gif's. I didn't really put my heart into it, and it's just a crappy geocities website.
I coudn't have the world's most mediocre band advertising itself with eye-bleed-inducing graphics and hopelessy pathetic text, could I? I mean the guy who built it left it unattended.

I didn't enjoy, it, but it had to be done.
It's still a piece of crap. I still need to go back and change the main picture, (It's waaaayy outdated) and the bios are of people who aren't in the band anymore. I mean- How can I leave it like that?

Sheesh.

I promise to do better. After I get updated bios from everyone.

Tall dark and dorky..

2005-07-21T20:29:00.000-04:00

This is perhaps the best stage I've played on in years. The lights are a good sixty feet over our heads, the sound was huge, and... There were about 3 dozen people in a 10,000 seat arena.

All this pomp was for a bike show- Problem is, bikers can't ride safely in torrential downpours.

Best damn practice we ever had.

Oh.

It wasn't all bad.

Tag, I'm it.

2005-07-20T21:49:00.000-04:00

My friend Sougata has tagged me- My list is pretty paltry compared to his, but he seems to have one of those super-minds that absorb and inquire about everything.

Here goes.

Total books I own: I used to own a ton- As in a whole wall full. My Mom still has a lot of them downstairs in my old room, and I like to go back and re-raid the shelves from time to time. In my apartment, I have about twenty.
Last book I bought: In the Company of Soldiers by Rick Atkinson. Pretty good writer, highly analytical but without all the standard literary-Armies-are-Evil snobbery.
Last book I read: Trying to finish a Biography of George C. Marshall. That man has probably influenced more aspects of the twentieth century than every president he served under, a selfless overachiever and respected by those he worked for and with to the point of worship.

Books that mean a lot to me: To date there has never been a book that “changed the way I think about things”. There are those that I’m fond of, either because I read them at a particularly pleasant time in life, or because certain passages or characters stuck in my mind.

Anything by John D. MacDonald. When I was a teenager, I wanted to be Travis McGee.

Little Men/ Little Women Louisa May Alcott. Classic for a reason.

D-Day Stephen Ambrose. He makes History accessible, and it really gave a human sense of perspective to the massive tragedy and triumph that was D-Day.

Cold Sassy Tree Olive Ann Burns. Her first book and her best. She died of cancer before completing the second, and it will break your heart.

Lolita Victor Nabokov. Considering that English was more of a hobby or one of many languages he spoke, the man was an artist with words and sentence structure.

A Game of Thrones George R.R. Martin. No talent fade in this Fantasy series yet, unlike Jordan or Eddings. People die that wouldn’t in other series, and the most unlikable characters have human moments. Try it- You’ll like it.

I’ve read most of the classics, and they were good, but most didn’t move me deeply. I liked David Copperfield, A tale of Two Cities, Moby Dick, and Catch-22. That’s it. I liked them.

Sue me.

Posting for posting's sake.

2005-07-19T00:04:00.000-04:00

Hiya Kids..

It's Monday evening, the AC is cranked and I am home, peacefull in my little sanctuary.
I Just got thru with a quick fill-in gig in 90 degree heat and suffocating humidity, trying desperately to look suave as I peer myopically at charts, sweating in all sorts of unnatural places.

I no likey the charts.
I like to follow the changes by ear, instead of keeping my head in the measure by measure structure that charts create. It tends to suck the life out of the music, making it sound forced and without feeling.
Eh. We got paid and managed to sound like we knew one end of the instrument from the other.

In other news, Mom has dropped off the planet, or at least her blog has.. I think I know why, but I'll let her 'splain if she feels like it.

The political scene has been pretty amusing as of late- I swear, the left was furiously masturbating over the thought of Karl "The Anti-Christ" Rove getting Fired/Indicted/ burned at the stake.
Just when things almost reached... Well- You know- Alas, it was not to be.. Rovus Interruptus.
They are reeeeeeally frustrated now.
This makes me happy. Delerious, even.

Everything sounds hot in Italian

2005-07-13T21:42:00.000-04:00

I have discovered that everything sounds sexy in Italian. Furthermore, thanks to the wonderful tool known as Babelfish, it sounds hot even if you’re talking about something as inane as driving.

Heh..

Exhibit A: “I will drive in slow, deliberate circles until we are lost and too tired to continue."

English to Italian comes out like this: Guiderò nei cerchi lenti e intenzionali fino a perderli noi e troppo stanco continuerò.
Very sexy, no?

Now- Back to English: I will guide in the circles discs of a valve and intentional until losing them we and too much tired I will continue..

That's a little confusing, but you'd be hard pressed to guess I was talking about driving.

Now, here’s where it gets fun-

Send somebody something really suggestive translated into Italian, make them translate it back.

Like this: Desidero baciarlo lentamente ed appassionato, undress voi e faccio l'amore voi.

I'm blushing...

Expressing my outrage... Patriotic, Aren't I?

2005-07-12T08:41:00.000-04:00

Well-

It’s been a while since I’ve pulled my head out long enough to look around the blogosphere, and having done so- I see nothing has changed. There were some snotty discussions on Fark, where the twenty-something basement dwellers come out to play, and it seems that they have something new against those yellow ribbons. They claim it’s “mindless jingoism”.

Jingoism? Kiss my ass.

Okay, kids.. I’ll spell it out for you.

If I want to put a yellow ribbon on my car, it’s because I want the soldiers to know that people here support their sacrifice, sympathize with their families and honor their loved ones who have died doing what soldiers do. This isn’t “mindless jingoism”. You’re just pissed that you can’t get any traction.

Let me put it to you in terms you can understand, dude…

We’re “adding our voice”. We’re “expressing our views”. “Showing solidarity” for those who are underappreciated.
We’re doing it without shiny, pretty rock stars, nifty signs, marches, and a screeching sense of outrage. We don’t feel the need to be hipper than thou, clever, sarcastic, too jaded for our own good.

We do it because we want the soldiers to know that this time- Some stoned, smartass poli-sci major isn’t going to spit on you or call you a baby killer when you get back.

Iv’e heard terms like “Operation Yellow Elephant”. Because supposedly, mindless jingoism is just empty lip service, and better than doing actually something.
So, if by that logic, I am supposed to shut up if I don’t join the military? Bullshit.
I’m doing the same thing you are- Why is your “dissent” so much more patriotic than my “expression of support”?

When you understand that you have no more right to the truth than I do, no more freedoms, and certainly no less- You cannot ridicule, shout down or silence me because you know that this time- You might lose.
In spite of all your very amusing little echo chambers that you’ve created for yourselves aren’t reaching much beyond your permanently outraged and entitled base.

Sunday AAR

2005-07-10T21:27:00.000-04:00

It’s been a hectic few days..

Londoners, for all their politeness, are a hard-boiled lot. When it’s all said and done, I think the jihadists will be very sorry they chose London. It’s been through a hell of a lot more than that, and withstood it with amazing resilience. Just wait until their military gets pissed- Those boys do not fu** around.. I don’t even want to know what the left is saying, probably because I’m pretty sure what the current tune is. Screw ‘em.

I just got finished playing the local Holiday Inn for four days, but fortunately the ex made only a token “look at me, I’m going out” appearance. We played well, the crowds were good, so all’s well.

I actually went on a sorta-date today. I asked a friend from work to see the local Titanic Exhibit. The exhibit? It was OK. Not bad, not too morbid, but after 9-11, the tragedy is a little diminished.

We had a good time, I dropped her off with little fanfare, and drove away. It wasn’t really supposed to be a date anyway- I wanted someone reasonable intelligent to do things with, and she’s very bright and normal. These are good qualities, and I’m horribly out of practice when it comes to dates as it is- So.. Success.

Mom has ordered it so..

2005-07-10T02:47:00.000-04:00

Wow- I've uber-Tagged by Mom. It took a while, but I did my Homework..

(This sucker seems to highlight all the unfortunate lapses in judgement I've had over the years. )

(X) smoked a cigarette (Yes.. I’m a smoker. Bite me- It’s the only vice I have left...)
(X) smoked a cigar
(X) smoked anything else (Was never that fond of it.)
() made out with a member of the same sex
( ) crashed a friend's car
(X) been in love
(X) been dumped
(X) shoplifted (Um.. Yes. Once when I was little and a couple of times in my teens.)
(X ) been fired (Ohhh, Yeah. A few times. Remember I used to drink a lot? ‘Nuff said.)
(X ) been in a fist fight (Yep- Had to have my nose rebuilt by specialist from Johns Hopkins. The guy was 6ft 8 and 290lbs. I shoulda picked a smaller guy- I was doing pretty good until he landed one. I repeat- One.)
(X ) snuck out of parent's house (Jeez- I’d put some of these questions on my resume’..)
(X) had feelings for someone who didn't have them back. (Yep)
(X) been arrested. (Ahem.. see aforementioned difficulties with drink..)
(X) made out with a stranger ( On stage even.. while playing.)
() gone on a blind date
(X) lied to a friend. (Yes.. I was sleeping with his ex-girlfriend)
() had a crush on a teacher
(X) skipped school
(X) slept with a co-worker ( More than once)
(X) saw someone die (In High school some one robbed the drug store next door. The security guard chased him right past me, I joined in, the robber turned and fired- At the security guard.)
(X) been to Canada (Toured there- Great place- Love Calgary)
() been to Mexico
(X) been on a plane
(X) thrown up in a bar (On stage)
() eaten Sushi
( ) been snowboarding
() been moshing at a concert
(X) been in an abusive relationship (Yep- Just got through being a doormat. I wouldn’t call it abusive so much as delusional and self-destructive)
(X) taken painkillers
(X) love someone right now ( My daughter, my family.)
(X) laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by
(X) made a snow angel
() had a tea party
(X) flown a kite
(X) built a sand castle
(X ) gone puddle jumping (Came home covered in mud when my Mom made the mistake of telling me I could get wet)
(X) played dress up (Apparently my sisters used to use my helpless infant body as a life size dollie.)
(X) jumped into a pile of leaves
(X) gone sledding
() cheated while playing a game
(X) been lonely
(X fallen asleep at work/school (I used to work after gigs the next day.. More than a few times..)

() used a fake ID
(X) watched the sunset
(X) felt an earthquake (Apparently I slept through it..)
(X) touched a snake
(X) been tickled (Mercilessly.. My sisters are evil)
(X) been robbed (Had a bass stolen right off the stage when I was loading out..)
( ) robbed someone
(X) been misunderstood (who hasn't?)
(X) pet a reindeer/goat (Goat. Our drummer used to have one- Nasty un-neutered bastard though we were all potential suitors. )
(X) won a contest
(X ) been suspended from school (Smoking)
(X) had detention (Hell, I lived there)
(X ) been in a car accident
() had braces
() eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(X) had deja vu
() danced in the moonlight
(X) hated the way you look ( Not often- But my hair is thick and straight- A bad haircut is a regular occurance)
( X) witnessed a crime
() pole danced
(X) questioned your heart (Way too often.)
( ) been obsessed with post-it notes
(X) squished barefoot through the mud
(X) been lost
(X) been to the opposite side of the country
(X) swam in the ocean
(X) felt like dying
() cried yourself to sleep
(X) played cops and robbers (As an adult, even.)
()recently colored with crayons/colored pencils/markers
(X) sung karaoke- (I used to host it for a part-time job.. I quit before I lost all self-respect.)
( ) paid for a meal with only coins
(X) done something you told yourself you wouldn't (Many, many things. I have learned to not make promises like that)
(X) made prank phone calls(Still do from time to time.)
(X) laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) caught a snowflake on your tongue
(X) kissed in the rain
() written a letter to Santa Claus
(X ) been kissed under a mistletoe
(X) watched the sunset with someone you care about
(x) blown bubbles
(X) made a bonfire on the beach
(X) crashed a party
(X) have traveled more than 5 days with a car full of people (Jeez- the stories of being on the road with musicians would curl your hair..)
(X) gone rollerskating
(X) had a wish come true
(X) humped a monkey- ( She may have been.. Baaad case of beer goggles.)
() worn pearls
( ) jumped off a bridge
( ) screamed "penis" in class
() ate dog food
() told a complete stranger you loved them (Still do.. It’s a great pick up line..)
(X) sang in the shower
() have a little black dress
(X) fucked in a park (You betcha.I prefer calling it “getting in tune with nature”..)
(X) fucked in the bathoom
(X) had a dream that you married someone (Fortunately, it was just a dream. )
(X) glued your hand to something. (My guitar- When callouses wear out, you apply super-glue.. But you’re supposed to wait until it dries.)
( ) got your toungue stuck to a pole
( ) kissed a fish
(X) worn the opposite sex's clothes ( The ez was rather diminutive, and I am not- It was funny when I put on her tight half shirt- Briefly. Then it was creepy. )
() been a cheerleader
(X) sat on a roof top
( ) had sex in a church My Mom was a choir director- I sure thought about it a lot when I was a kid. There used to be this one lady…)
(x) screamed at the top of your lungs
() done a one-handed cartwheel (Couldn’t if you paid me.)
(X ) talked on the phone for more than 6 hours
(X) stayed up all night
( ) didn’t take a shower for a week (Boy.. I would REEK.)
( ) pick and ate an apple right off the tree

(X) climbed a tree
(X) had a tree house
(X ) are scared to watch scary movies alone

(X) believe in ghosts
( ) have more then 30 pairs of shoes
(X) worn a really ugly outfit to school
(X) gone streaking
( ) played ding-dong-ditch (WTF? I may have put mine in a ditch once or twice, but I’m a little fuzzy on the details)
(X ) played chicken fight
(X) been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on
(X) been told you're hot by a complete stranger
(X) broken a bone (knock on wood)
(X) been easily amused (Still am)
() caught a fish then ate it
(X ) made porn (I think so.. Long, sordid story.)
(X) caught a butterfly
(X) laughed so hard you cried
( ) cried so hard you laughed
(X) mooned/flashed someone
(X) had someone moon/flash you
( ) cheated on a test
(X) forgotten someone's name (All the time)
(X) slept naked
( ) French braided someones hair (The guitarists when he was passed out.)
(X) gone skinny dippin in a pool
( ) been kicked out of your house
(X)cheated on a girlfriend/boyfriend
(X )had casual sex with a close friend
(X)Had sex with someone and later were ashamed to admit it(Way too often in the old days)
(X)felt crushing defeat
(X)felt thrilling victory
()not had enough money for food

Good lord, that's a lot of questions..

London

2005-07-07T09:24:00.000-04:00

It's not "terrorism", it's not "jihad" it's indiscriminate murder.

Cold blooded, heartless wanton slaughter.

Gutless fucks.

Sunday boredom.

2005-07-03T18:44:00.000-04:00

Well, I slept waaaay too long today- I went to bed about 4:30am and slept until almost 3 in the afternoon. Getting back on a work schedule is going to suck.

The gig was relatively free of drama. The ex showed up, but our guitarist cornered her and asked her why she felt a need to subject us both to needless drama. She had no real answer, and left shortly thereafter. Yay.

The bar we played used to be the local dive. By that, I mean dive of legendary proportions. Concrete floors, fights every night, nasty toothless drunks and such clinging to the bar for dear life, too drunk to stand.

The Pagans hang there, a leftover from the good old days. Usually they stay to themselves, but they go from normal to vicious pretty quick if you push the right buttons. They're mostly in their 50's by now, in poor health from years of living on nothing but coke, speed, Jack Daniels and bad food. As a consequence, they won't stand and slug it out- They wait for you in the parking lot and go straight to blunt, heavy objects. Usually this happens if someone wears the wrong "colors" and they have a standing feud with said wearers of colors.

I had one of them, probably in his middle 50's- All of 120 lbs, bony, scraggly beard, hard lined face and a hoarse cackly voice tell me "Boy, they saw you coming", implying that my tee shirt- Which says "Chick Magnet" and sports a picture of a skinny ten year old doing the muscleman pose- Was somehow a scam, sold to me as a joke on the unsuspecting. He then had to repeat it three times to everyone, just in case they didn't get it the first time, all the while, cackling a phlegmy smokers laugh. I think everyone else thought it as ironic as I did. I offered to give it to him, if he wanted to be really funny.
He didn't get it.

I didn't have the patience to explain the concept of sarcasm and irony.

Post-gig Post

2005-07-03T03:38:00.000-04:00

It's 3:30am my ears are ringing from the gig tonite, but I'm still a little wired.

My brain was working overtime today, and I can't really even tell you what was going through my head. It's like constant white noise, certain mantras or thoughts that I've held on to to keep my ass in line were on auto repeat until I got sick of myself. I tried napping, but damned if my brain doesn't fuck with me in my sleep.

Here's where I stand as of today-

It's still my fault, in the sense that I knew better than to try to get back together with her again.
Why? (I've been trying to swallow some uncomfortable truths about myself as of late..)
Low self-esteem.
Duh.

Well, genius, now that I've had this little eureka moment, how does one go about "Loving ones self"? I've been looking for the little "I love me!" switch, but I think it's broken. Some very smart people have given me clues- "If you want self-esteem, do esteemable things.."

Okay. Got it.
Feed the homeless, and so on. I help take care of my 94 year old-grandfather, which is humbling, especially since he's to weak to make it to the bathroom at times. Ther's other things that I do- Speak at prisons, halfway houses- Basically, I try not to be an oxygen thief.

Here's the problem. I'm left to my own defenses. I have nothing to distract me from me, no crutches, no one to cater to so that I can feel better.
Dating is out of the question- Not only am I a total hornbag, I have a tendency to take hostages, metaphorically speaking. This falls under the category of finding a new square peg to hammer into a round hole.

I have some things going for me, though..
One- I'm determined.
Two- I'm sick of sick people. Normal will do nicely, and there's no one in sight, thank goodness.
Three- Instead of obsessing over my wrongs done to me and emotional wounds, I am going to find a way to get myself semi-whole.
Face it an embrace it. Warts and all.

Change and growth is painful- and I don't like painful, not one bit.

Fixed the damn template.

2005-06-30T22:03:00.000-04:00

Woo-HOO!

Instead of sifting thru HTML, I went to the helpsection and pasted a patch in for the huge, gaping space under the post header. All is well in Tinfoil Land again.

In other news, I have a new hobby, albeit a tad misogynistic.. If I imagine the ex with a haircut, I have loads o' fun dropping her and flinging her about.

Yeah, yeah, I know.. It'll pass. It's only a program designed to demonstrate human movement, so don't get yer panties in a wad.

I've benn so self-absorbed lately, (*gasp* NO!.. Really?) I haven't even checked the left side of the blogosphere to enjoy the red-faced spittle mouthed crowd as they piss and moan about conspiracies, oil and whatever the hell they love to tell themselves. The Presiden'ts speech was effective, and purposeful.
The left has no plan at all except "get out". I believe it was Nancy Pelosi (or perhaps another interchangable sour-puss) who stammered and dodged when asked what their plan was.

Apparently, it's much more fun to piss and moan as opposed to contributing any useful strategies. That's just not as much fun when you're obsessed with your own vitriol.

Late night post.

2005-06-29T22:32:00.000-04:00

Empty screen- Hmmm..

Looks like another stream of consciousness kinda post. Roughly the equivalent of "Here I sit broken hearted.."

I hope my template has miraculously fixed itself, because I don't have the energy to pore through the code to fix it right now. I have been holed up in the house, and due to a schedule snafu- I don't have to play tonite, which left me watching TV and happily scratching my ass most of the night.

It's kinda nice to be a hermit. I downloaded a bunch of Allison Krauss for ye olde iPod, since I absolutely adore the sound of her voice. I shall start stalking her soon.

She loves me- She just doesn't know it yet... Maybe a few dead pets on her doorstep as a token of my affection will woo her.

I burned them to CD to listen to as I fall asleep since as of late my brain has decided that 11:30 is the perfect time to churn relentlessly and pore over every conceivable scenario, real or imagined.
Boy, does that piss me off. The madder I get at myself, the harder it is to get to sleep. It makes you want to get a ball peen hammer and bonk yourself on the noggin. Manual reboot.

Okay- I'm off to toss and turn.

Mental Flotsam

2005-06-28T11:11:00.000-04:00

Well-
The week from hell is over, but I am about to embark upon a new adventure in self-flagellation.

I’m on call this week and over the holiday weekend- It’s a damn good thing I have no life.

I have to figure out how to juggle being on call while playing this weekend.
I mean- It’s not like I can just set my bass down and scurry off to fix someone’s solitaire.

This weekend’s festivities include a two night gig at the ex’s favorite dive bar, followed by a four day stand the following week at the local Holiday Inn where she works four nights a week.. Hoo boy, there’s nothing like watching your drunken ex try to play games with your mind while you’re trying to be the happyhappy rockstar. I have seriously considered bailing out of the music scene, but I need the extra cash- As soon as my bills are paid off, I’m done for a while, I think.

I am getting burned out.

2005-06-26T00:12:00.000-04:00

I just got home, it's hot and humid and the AC is being whipped within an inch of it's ever-shortening life in an effort to remove all the heat and moisture in the air.

We played a six day stand at HersheyPark. For those of you who have no idea what this "HersheyPark" thing is I speak of, it's basically a Six-Flags/Great adventure money pit for parents in Hershey, PA with a chocolate candy theme. A kiddie Casino.

A burger and fries will cost you ten bucks- It's no wonder the parents look absolutely tortured. It's hot, it's loud, the kids are hopped up on Hershey Kisses and Reese's, and they're chasing their brood around in the midst of all this chaos forking out money hand over fist.

Weekdays are pretty quiet, so you get to sit by the artificially cheery stream that runs through it and watch the ducks. Weekends are survival of the fittest compounded by the chaos created by Dave Matthews coming to the stadium. Wall to wall frat kids, lined up asses to elbows trying to get through all the traffic to see their idol.

If I had more energy, I'd straighten this dis-jointed post out, but I'm beat.

'Night.

My template is hosed.

2005-06-24T15:29:00.000-04:00

Not sure what's up with the huge space under the title, but this is a test post at best.

Quickie insta-post.

2005-06-24T15:22:00.000-04:00

It's June 24- which according to some scientist somewhere- Today is the happiest day of the year, according to some statistic that he's managed to pull out of his.. Database.

Soooo.. I'm happy. Dammit.

I bought a squishy stress yo-yo thingie at HersheyPark which I promptly managed to pull apart. (I used to do this to all my Christmas toys too.. Apparently, I'm still a two year old, since I still giggle when someone says "uranus".) I'm now completely enamored with the four-colored flashing LED thingie inside it. If I cup it in my palm and hold it up to my eyes, I've got an instant rave goin' on. Woo.

I also use it as in "Idiot Alert" to notify those around me that I'm on the phone with a mentally challenged dimwit. I can also turn it on when my boss walks in. He asked what it meant. I told him it was a hypnotic device, and I will use it control his mind. I then began waving my fingers while saying "wooooo... Give Rob a raise" but it only made him shake his head and leave.

Mission accomplished.

Quickie

2005-06-20T23:06:00.000-04:00

It's 11:00.
I just got home from playing the Ampitheater in HersheyPark after working all day. . It was bee-yoo-tiful out, so between sets I sat outside and watched sugar-fueled children scamper past followed by hot, weary parents trudging along behind the strollers.

HersheyPark is a huge expense, so I feel a little sympathy for the parents, trying to get the most out of their bucks- The ampitheater is shaded, so they sit, more apreciative of the chance to rest than the actual music I think.

All in all- It was a good day. I am officially tired, so I'm off to bed.

Possibly the last of the Angst-y posts..

2005-06-19T22:49:00.000-04:00

I have a little catching up on my blogging to do- I’ve been tasked with completing a Meme sent by Mustang23, some reading I promised Sougata I’d do, and I miss posting in general.

Not really feeling “writer-ish” today, but here goes.

Well, that’s not exactly true.. I feel like dumping, venting my spleen, but I’m not sure that dragging you all along thru the muck is the way to go about it- but I may do it anyway.. Today was a rough day.

I came home after vacation, and did some long overdue house cleaning, laundry and pitching all the ex’s odds ‘n ends. I get annoyed that I have to deal with it at all. Women require a lot of stuff to smell, look and feel girlie, but it only annoys me to look at it, and it’s easily replaceable. It’s not like she didn’t know what my reaction would be- she gambled, lost, and came and got her stuff- so what she left behind goes in the trash. Period. I don’t need it, I don’t want it around, so it goes.

I will back up her files, but those will be passed to someone, since she and I have in the past, a rather nasty habit of torturing ourselves, acting wounded and too proud to bend.

This time there’s no bending, only broken.

I look at this the same way I did when I quit drinking.. I got sick of the negative effects only after rationalizing the positives for waaayy too long.

She had enough things about her that I liked, that made me feel good, that the negatives were worth working on, to my rather convoluted way of thinking. The problem with that theory lies in the fact that only when you get sick of making the same mistakes over and over again will you change, which is what happened to me, and as of yet- Hasn’t happened to her.

My real problem is- I like to drag out my resentments, polish them, look them over, feel angry and work myself into a state of misery. This is a habit I’ve yet to break, but I’m working on it.

It’s made easier by the fact that this was just as much my fault for trying again as it was hers. I have no control over her actions, and you can’t break people like dogs with a rolled up newspaper. I knew better, but ignored the advice of some very wise people and gave it another shot, because I believed what I wanted to believe. .

Pfft. Flippin' lunacy.

Home at last..

2005-06-18T23:25:00.000-04:00

Well… I’m back.

Did battle with the traffic, emerging unscathed.. Barely. I managed to get lost on the beltway around Baltimore, but that always happens to me, since I have no sense of direction at all.

Beltways suck. East is west, north is south, slam on the brakes, downshift, floor it, flip the bird, shift lanes, joust and jostle your way around the whole damn city before finding your way out of the maze. No cheese was offered as reward, but I still beat everybody home.

The week at the beach was very relaxing, almost boring. If you don’t party, there’s not much else to do- I tried sitting listening to music, but as a musician, I’m jaded. I then tried "Seacrets" which as bars go, is pretty amazing, but you can only watch punks and divas for so long before you realize how out of place you are. Put me in a bar, I’m lost unless I’m on stage..

So what did I do?

What else?

I sat on the boardwalk and watched the endless parade of hotties go by. Roughly 4000 little girlies in swimsuits and minskirts crammed into a 5 mile stretch of beach town. All half my age, and completely uninteresting in any other sense but the visual.

But the visual?

Oh. My. God.

*sigh* Youth is wasted on the young.

Sandcastles and Sunburn

2005-06-15T10:40:00.000-04:00

I have sunburn...

I managed this in spite of sunblock that would keep a vampire alive at high noon.
I wasn't sitting there, baking like a turkey either- I was teaching my nephew the finer points of castle building. He and I didn't quite see eye to eye on a few things, since he's partial to moats. He likes deep ones, with smaller ones surrounding it like miniature water hazards. The castle itself is purely secondary..

I like my castles big, imposing and walled in, heavily fortified with guard towers with interlocking fire, open killing grounds andarcherytowersandcatapults .... You can see where our paths separated. So, I let him dig the moats, while I built fortress Rob.
It looked like a S&M golf resort- moats and waster hazards everywhere, walls and towers, and a huge central hall.

Unfortunately, the sea came. We were thinking siege, but they attacked in waves.

The moats were the first to go.. Then the walls, my nice little guard towers falling one by one. The main hall withstood the onslaught for a good ten minutes, looking like a medieval ruin by the end. Most of it had caved in on itself, leaving a jagged, mountain-like shape standing by itself, all alone on the moor.

Spent more time on the boardwalk..The girls that are graduating High School do NOT look like the ones I graduated with. Good lord, these boys are lucky. Some look girlie and young-ish while others had me contemplating throwing a fishermans net over the boardwalk, gathering about twenty of them into a pile and diving in headfirst into the little ocean of hotties.

I knew it was time to go back to the condo at that point...

2005-06-12T18:33:00.000-04:00

I'm able to post from the shore, as you can plainly see...

Got in late last night, listened to my Mother tell me waaaayy too much about my little sister, who is sweet, but quite the little diva princess. It's not that I don't care about her, or what she's doing, but if my Mother- Bless her heart- starts talking about her, dig in and get comfortable. You will hear every subtle nuance, detail and whatnot about her life.
ZZZZzzzz...

Took off on my own for about four hours today, walked the boardwalk, and spent a good two hours just sitting, and watching the parade of humanity.

Let's see... The beach report as viewed by Rob
Kids have a lot of tattoos these days. The popular one with the girlies is the tribal across the small of the back, whereas the guys get the usual armband/shoulder tat. Hollister seems to be the "in thing" in clothing, and beads have managed to migrate from Mardi Gras to the boardwalk. Lots of talk about parties, hooking up, and meaningless chatter- Unless, of course- You're an 18 kid fresh out of High School.

Whoo, I feel old sitting there.
39 isn't ancient, but these kids could easily be mine. (by numerical stats only...)

I feel like I'm invisible here, which is kinda nice. Noone pays attention to the guy on the bench, benignly eyeing the crowd. I also feel very angry, bitter and jaded at times, but this will serve to keep me from chasing random skirts in a misplaced effort to get over/past/thru/around the logic blender in my head.

It's wierd, though. People seem to notice me when only I'm feeling that way. or maybe it's just that I could care less who thinks what.
I'm almost wishing for some hardass to start something, some dumbass who sees too little too late. I played for 15 years on the road in some really rough places- I have always gotten out unscathed, probably because of my size.

Hell- I could be five foot nothing and you people would never know, until someone who knows me reads this- but being six-four has it's advantages.

I still like the beach, though. Salt air and Ocean Sounds make for great nightime lullabies.

Pre vacation observations.

2005-06-11T21:30:00.000-04:00

Leaving for the shore at 10 pm to avoid the traffic..

It'll take about three hours to get there, but it's a nice feeling once you roll across the bridge, and all your dirty little struggles seem to blow away with the air coming off the Atlantic.

This is not to say that I won't spend waaay too much time in my head, but there's plenty to do, places to go, people to watch.

I love to sit on the boardwalk, eyeing the people as they pass, doing little mental calculations in my head. What do they do for a living, are they happily married, that kid needs ritalin, she's pretty, she's waaay underdressed for her build, and he's stoned out of his gourd.

It's senior week at the shore, which means the only real downside is going to be fighting little packs and gaggles of teeny-boppers strolling up and down the boardwalk, trying to see and be seen. Like little insecure geese, the girls huddle together, giggling, whispering, eyeing the "hawt" guys, little tenative glances down at their cleavage, a subtle tug on the swimsuit, hoping all the right pieces are in place like wares on display- Self-esteem is at stake, their standing in the pack/herd.

The boys huddle together, but looser- Space between them, yet close enough to give them a sense of security while they walk their awkward teenage bodies- All arms, legs, joints and skinny fuzzy calves sticking out of immensely baggy shorts. You can tell who is better at the game. They have a sense of belonging, sure of their place, knowing what they want. It happens to be prominently displayed wrapped in tight little swimsuits. Quite a little display of darwinism.

I love watching mothers- Some women have great instincts for rasing children. Others- They have to work at it. The beach really seems to highlight the differences, or rather-the boardwalk does. By the time the kids get to the boardwalk, they're tired. Beat from a day of chasing waves, each other and digging sand holes.
Kids these days seem to have lost the finer arts of sandcastles. They dig sand holes instead... Which is okay- I love to watch the looks of determination on their little faces, certain that China lies directly beneath them. They seem to wonder why no-one has ever had enough ambition to dig and find it. So, the intrepid little diggers/explorers set off on a mission to tunnel down and speak some chinese, make friends and be home for supper.

The mothers herd their broods down the boardwalk, their swimsuits cut in such a way as to accentuates anything but the damage wreaked upon their bodies by childbirth. The hips are cut high, which gives them what I call "bumble-bee butt". Looks great from the front, or at least passable- But the view from the back is somewhat less than flattering at times.
Some women actually look really good after having had children - Not in a skinny, hollywood toned and shaped hot way, but in a round, appealing softness that implies sturdiness and dependability.

I'm more inclined to curvy women. I like the solid springiness that some women seem to have- Hips, small waist curving in, a little belly fat, solid muscle underneath giving it a solidity, yet softness.

I will no doubt see a lot of appealing shapes. I will no doubt see alot of interesting people.
I plan on doing a whole lot of nothing, play with my nephew and read a lot.
I'm off- If I have access to the intarweb thingie, I'll post.

If not- Leave something amusing in the comments.

Random One liners.

2005-06-10T15:54:00.000-04:00

I'm just about out the door.

I have to pull a little Overtime tomorrow, but then- VACATION!

For a whole week in Ocean City, Maryland.

That damn Hurricane better get its ass moving on out the do' before I get there, because I am officially fried. Mental toast.

The down side, is- I'll be really broke, since what was going to be split in two I am now footing the bill altogether.

Ouch.

My sister usually brings her Laptop, so I should be able to post-

If not, I will throw something together when I get back..

Sayonara.

REALLY Angst-y Post (#3 in a series of ..?)

2005-06-10T11:27:00.000-04:00

(I promise to get back to normal soon, provided my brain spools down a little.)
I am sitting here wondering how- given my ability to read and understand people as well as most- How I could have wound up being such a dumbass for so long. Don't get me wrong, that's not a statement of anger directed at my ex, it's really more a generally honest question directed at myself. I started disecting both her AND my past behavior. It's scary how you can break it down, step by ugly step..

How to do the nasty on the sly, on the D.L., etc: (Based on much personal experience on both sides..)

1. Flirt with desired target.
2. Become somewhat curious as to what could happen if…
3. Begin inventing excuses to be in same places at same time.
4. Begin “selling” your case- “I’m not happy, or I love my Husband/Wife BF/GF, but….” (Why? This way no one thinks you’re a dog/slut, you’re just “trapped”..)
5. Combine alcohol and opportunity
6. Find right time/place and become “helpless against the attraction..” with said "person who understands".

In my heyday, this was my M.O. if I was actually dating someone.
Do it once- That’s forgivable. Do it consistently, and you become a soulless scumbag. Personally, I became tired of being a soulless scumbag,

So.. What’d I do? In typical dysfunctional fashion, I went out and found someone just like me. I then tried to be “the good guy”, having grown tired of being the local “player”. I tried hammering a square peg into a round hole. Repeatedly.

Ducks attract ducks, my Mother always used to say.
Funny- I am always the one sitting casually, arms draped over the next chair dispensing words of wisdom to others to whom the answers to life are not so easily apparent. If it was a guy, I’d say- “Man up, Nancy.. Move on” and if it was a woman, I’d say- “Suck it up, Cupcake. There’s more to life than a man..” I should've heeded my own advice.

Mweheh. Karma is a bitch.

The cure for the blues is...

2005-06-09T20:07:00.000-04:00

I am sitting here watching “Reno 911”.. The show is pure genius.
Brilliance. It's hard to be self-absorbed when you’re watching those freaks wander around, enforcing the law largely by accident...

In my semi-famous “boobies” post, I took a little editorial license claiming the accused no-show lingerie launcher had called me a 'pervert".

She didn’t.

I made that part up.

*sigh* There.. I said it.

I also promised that I would make a public apology upon the condition that she actually show up, sans bra-

Sooo. Here goes.

Sorry.

I am now officially contrite, provided that the other half of this agreement uphold her end of the bargain. If said party refuses to show up minus breast support of any kind other than outer wear, my contriteness is hereby terminated. Any additional acts of repentance will require jumping, dancing or sheer fabric, at which point I shall joyously renounce any and all statements as required.

See?

I feel better already. Boobs cure everything.

Angst-y Post (part 2 of a series of ..?)

2005-06-09T15:55:00.000-04:00

I had a friend once who had a pet boa kept in a glass cage.
All day long, the snake would constantly poke at the glass walls with his snout, relentlessly looking over and over again for a hole, a crack he could slide through- anything. The glass was there right in front of him, but it didn’t matter if he’d just been over it a hundred times- his short term memory wasn’t developed enough that he could remember where he’d just checked. He was convinced in his own reptilian manner that there was an exit somewhere, since he’d been let out of his cage to be held or fed, and this what probably reinforced his incessant search.

This seems to be how my brain works.
Nothing new is really going to make me feel better. I am obsessing, but this is something I’ve always done, turning things over and over in my head, although this changes nothing on a factual level. I think it’s my brain’s way of trying to find a way out of the pain/discomfort. It’s relentlessly seeking relief.

With regard to my previous post- I was right.
Dead on.
Bingo.

Unfortunately, betrayal is nothing new in this relationship. I hate the fact that I was so naïve/stupid so many times over for so long.
I defined myself by what it was. I would draw the line in the sand, and it would subside for a while, but eventually things would deteriorate all over again.
We'd break up. Months of self-inflicted torture would ensue, slowly coming unraveled day by day. We would slowly work our way back towards getting back together again, hoping that it was over this time, but the pattern would repeat itself. She was pretty, funny, smart, sex was amazing, but she was so screwed up from her upbringing that I don’t think she’ll ever get it right.

I have some idea on who the current side affair is but it doesn’t matter. It changes nothing, even if it was the pope.
What she does, doesn’t do or who loves me, who doesn’t love me has no bearing on who I am.

I know this to be true, on an intellectual level.

The worst kind of denial is the kind where, in the face of overwhelming evidence and past behavior, one continues to hold to the illusion of choice. What can I say? Who else do I have to blame?

Nobody.
Just me.

Angst-y blogger post.

2005-06-08T21:46:00.000-04:00

Pondering changes in my future in a personal sense.

Boobs and butts mentioned in previous posts notwithstanding, I am waxing stereotypically pensive at the moment.

I was wondering when I’d fall for the blogger standard of thinking out loud via the web.. Feh. Blogs are very therapeutic anyway, so why not take advantage of getting rid of some mental flotsam?

Personal relationships are tough, and I’m wondering why it is that I put myself through such drama, whereas other people who I perceive to be less emotionally mature are able to cut loose and move on with relative ease. (So much for perception, eh?)

This is not to say that I’m not at that point, but in the past it has taken a whole lot of denial to stay within the bounds of the relationship. I’m wondering if it’s time to pull the ripcord and bail before I subject myself to needless torture.

The fear of losing the relationship is less than the fear of more self-inflicted angst.

Communication is not that great, since I despise conflict- so does she. However, I am almost required to be as honest at all times as I can be, (taking my direction from friends of Bill W.) whereas she seems to see rationalization as her strongest suit. I know her pretty well, having been down this road too many times before. I sense a real speed bump in the road ahead, and I may well decide that I no longer want to travel that path, having had my fill of “bumps”.

With her, everything is emotional, and what you do is relative to how you feel at the time.

We’ll see.. I could be totally off base, too.. Believe it or not, I have considered that fact too.

Today's perverse post..

2005-06-08T09:15:00.000-04:00

Boobs were sooo yesterday-

Today's fixation is on the booty. The behind, the junk in the trunk, the badonkadonk. (dude.. I am so street I scare myself.)

The problem is this..

I work in a building with more grandmas per square foot than your average bingo hall. (Come to think of it, I could make a killing if I put a slot machine in the cafeteria and held lunchtime bingo..) However, I digress from the subject so near and dear to my heart. Boot-ay.

The good news is- When I'm not blogging, I actually work instead of leering. This place is a booty lover’s nightmare- Everyone gets older and things sag, flatten and expand, and it will happen to us all.. But I'm stuck in a booty museum.

Old ladies seem to come in two basic shapes.

Cardboard box.
(flatassicus pancakius) Looks like someone let the air out, rolled it flat with a rolling pin and pumped in some cottage cheese for texture. Looks especially appealing in threadbare double-knit orange polyester.

Inflate-a-butt.
Huge. Immense. (badonkadonkus rotundus immensicus) Leaves the room several minutes after she does. I can only guess that all the gas from withheld farts has caused it to swell and appear as if it’s crawling up her back. Its natural habitat appears to be a Mu-Mu.

On the bright side we get summer interns- But- most of ‘em are too young and haven’t grown into everything yet. Still babies, basically.
This leaves me at a loss- Am I being punished for something? Why, dear lord did you strand me in this booty-barren wasteland? Have I offended thee in some way?

I dunno.

The girlfriend has been out of town for three days , which I think is the real problem.

If you love them, set them free..

2005-06-07T09:55:00.000-04:00

Hey- I never claimed to be a saint..

A friend of mine promised to show up at a rather staid, conservative-esque gig and fling her bra at me. Needless to say, this would have caused a riot- and I would have been banished to the dog-house just for leering- but fortunately for all concerned, the proposed launching of the lingerie never came to be.

I was bummed- I was really looking forward to ogling, since things are starting to get warm and humid here on the east coast. It's the only thing I have left to look forward to..

I gave up drinking, since it controlled waaay too much of my time and money. I gave up womanizing for pretty much the same reasons, and you could safely say that I am an almost respectable citzen these days, no longer a full-time drunken-musician-slut. Having done just about everything one can do and live to tell about it, you should also keep in mind that for all my bluster, I an almost insanely anal about being in a monogamous, committed relationship.

No touch.

Ever.
Not for any reason, because there isn't one good enough for the damage it will cause. Got it?

This does not stop me from being a somewhat twisted individual, so the email conversation this morning went something like this:

Her:
Hey, I apologize for not being there Saturday. I didn't feel great, so I stayed home all day. I'm sorry I said I'd be there and I wasn't!

Me:
Yeah, yeah..
I was hoping to score a bra.

Her:
sorry! next time!

Me:
I'm miffed. You were supposed to jump up and down.
I was looking forward to that.
A lot.

Her:
Shut up, I actually feel bad!

Me:
I had it all envisioned in my mind..
In slo-mo even.
They were real.. And they were spectacular.
Moving, released from their constraints- so happy to be free, waving to me from behind a black silk blouse, living as breasts were meant to live- Unfettered and full of motion.. *Que theme music- Born Free* Booooorrnn Freeee...As freeeee as the wind bloooooows...
Alas.. It was not to be.

Her:
you just made me choke on my coffee...

Me:
Sorry..
Sort of.
Just remember.. You owe me happy, bouncing boobies.
Happy ones- Full of life, living in their natural environment. None of those sad, lifeless boobies peering dully out from behind a wall of fabric condemned to a life of being stared at by passersby wondering what they'd be like if they were allowed to roam free as nature intended.
A happy, free-range boobie zoo.

Her:

Whatever.

Pervert.

Ladies- If you love them and love America- Set them free...
Then you can.. Say- do jumping jacks and play on trampolines?

Beef Jerky Wars

2005-06-03T14:55:00.000-04:00

If you'll care to take a gander over in yon sidebar, you'll notice the icon labeled "Bloggers for Beef Jerky".
"Why, what is this?" you ask yourself-

Go ahead.

Click.

You know you want to...

For those of you with dial-up or ADD, I'll spell it out for you.

It seems Jean-Paul, of The National Guard Experience is attempting to take advantage of the generosity afforded to him by the donating public. In short- he's trying to stack the deck, grease the wheels, and buck the system by looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth and declaring it unfit for consumption. He should've started small, asking for gradual changes according to need and taste, but...

He got greedy.

He went straight for the holy grail and asked for, of all things- A friggin' Ipod.

Not only that- He's trying to ruin it for lesser mortals who actually dare to confess a liking for Beef Jerky. I mean.. What if you're out on patrol, in full battle rattle and not gonna make it back in time for chow? Whaddaya do? Reach in your pocket and pull out your Ipod? Do you know how long a charge lasts on those things?

At the very least, you can pull out a nice, healthy chunk o' Dried Cow, which will hold you over nicely, keeping your blood sugar levels normal- thus preventing your hunger-induced bad attitude AND your crappy music from adversely affecting the mission.

The nerve of some people.

Meme Time

2005-06-01T13:23:00.000-04:00

I have been tasked by Jim to complete the following in order to maintain my cool status.

Ever driven by peer pressure, I shall comply-(Keep in mind I used to play music for a living so my tastes run from the cheesy to the absurd.)

Total volume of music files on my computer: Work- 0 Home- 1gig

The last CD I bought was: Kim Ritchie's Glimmer (What can I say..I love the production values..)

Song playing right now: Poco's Call it Love

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me: Crowded House Don't Dream it's Over -I'm a sucker for a Hammond B3. Great wind down the day song.

Starship's Jane -It's my morning-drive-to-work-and-get-your-ass-awake-tune.

Atlanta Rythym Section Imaginary Lovers Just one of those slow, suck you in and keep you until the song's over kind of tunes. Even if it is about masturbation. It took years to figure that out- I still liked it even after I listened to the lyrics.

Brother Cain's Got no Shame I can't sit still when I hear it. It compells you to sing at the top of your lungs in the car, play air gutar and air drums simultaneously.

Miles Davis- Anything from Kind of Blue.. Required listening if you are serious about music.

That's it-
Be carefull what you wish for.

Memorial Day

2005-05-31T22:24:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day has passed with the requisite sacrificing of the chicken and hot dogs, family and friends. (Well- family and friends weren't exactly sacrificed, but you get the point, I'm sure. )

I am indeed grateful.

As a history buff, I am fascinated by the sacrifices and struggles made by ordinary men and women who by all other accounts were ordinary people, just like you and I.

Most of the "heroes" I've met would rather have not been heroes at all- The emotional price some have paid was almost too great and while people like myself hold them in awe, they would give almost anything just to be normal. They were glad to have been useful in most cases, and most certainly do not regret the actions they took, but some it would seem- Would just like to be a store clerk or an accountant as opposed to scarred hero.

It is this aspect of the military I admire most- The ability to endure, to withstand and to serve an ideal which at times seems to be fading. The American dream is still alive and well, but we have paid a price for the social upheaval we underwent in the sixties. Soldiers are still wary of a fickle public turning on them, to be scorned or spit upon. The ribbon campaigns and contact with family and friends has dampened some of that, but the left seems intent on keeping it alive.

Soldiers are not perfect. Far from it- An Army will always behave as armies- or rather- people do under great stress. Some will have the worst brought out in them, others will have moments of gallantry and bravery they will forever be measured against. Nonetheless, our servicemen and women are doing remarkably well because deep down- We still believe Americans are good.
I too, believe we are- Unfortunately the Arab world has created in us all that they see as wrong with the world. Zionists and Americans represent all the evil, wrapped up neatly and delivered to their doorstep, ready made to scorn and destroy, guilt-free. This is easier than dealing with the issues for themselves. Explosives are a quick solution when compared to the tedious democratic process.

We have endured worse, and we will prevail- in spite of and because of our national self. The Armed forces are still comprised of citizen soldiers, and this is our greatest strength.

Lion: 42 Midgets: 0

2005-05-27T15:18:00.000-04:00

What do you get when you mix a Lion and a bunch of drunken midgets? The following.

The fight was called in only 12 minutes, after which 28 fighters were declared dead, while the other 14 suffered severe injuries including broken bones and lost limbs, rendering them unable to fight back.

Darwin has a sick sense of humor.

Pfft... What bias?

2005-05-27T10:38:00.000-04:00

I hate to say it, but Tom DeLay has a point.

I'm no fan of DeLay as a rule, and he really needs to STFU sometimes, but this is just a flaming crock of poop, and a cheap shot.

The controversy centers around Wednesday's episode in which a police officer investigating a murder of a federal judge suggested putting out an all points bulletin for "somebody in a Tom DeLay T-shirt."

Nice.
The left leaning TV could be seen looking at the sky, whistling and feigning surprise at his outrage.

I really like this one. "But I do congratulate Congressman DeLay for switching the spotlight from his own problems to an episode of a TV show."

"Who, us?" Pure, wide-eyed innocence. "Golly."

What's next? Surreptitious high fives to Howard Dean, and a finger drawn across the neck when DeLay looks their way?

I think DeLay should toilet paper the producer's house.

Late night musings.

2005-05-27T00:24:00.000-04:00

Okay.. I lied.

I should never make any predictions about how often I'm going to post. I thought for sure this week would suck all the energy out of me, and I'd resort to short, irratable quickies.
Nope.

This link I posted earlier has got me thinking about what we could be in store for- The left has nothing to focus their energy on right now, so that leaves protests in front of recruiting stations, hard cheap shots in milblog comments and general snottiness to fill the void in their fruitless little lives.

Protesting in front of recruiting stations has to be the biggest irony of all, and they're too self righteous to see it. they're using a social activity (that's all protests are- A big fuzzy get together) to protest the signing up of students for a military commitment.

Commitment- The left thinks they're committed, but they're just isolationists. They think their "voice" needs to be heard, but it's just talk.

Talk is dirt cheap and we're full up here, kids.

I would love to compare their lives with that of a soldier's family. The left, by comparison knows nothing of "commitment", no clue what separation, debt and family hardship is.

They are losing, and they're turning on my beloved military. (Holy crap, that pisses me off, and I'll be damned if I stand passively by should I ever hear some self-righteous prick say anything disparaging to a soldier returning home.)
If they can't win by other means, they are turning back the pages to the sixties all over again this time by attempting to poison morale. I shudder to think what that means if they do this en masse.

"Look! We won!" they'll say. "We finally made the soldiers see reason, and the power of the people is not to be denied.."

No- What they are trying to do is make things so miserable for those in the service, giving them the impression that they have no support at home so that a tough job will become nearly impossible. They're not all that fond of the military anyway, so if they pull the rug out from under them- Eh.. So what.

Back then, the left were the ones shouting "Baby Killers" and spitting on soldiers in uniform. They blamed everyone in uniform for the atrocities committed by a few. Hell, I didn't base my perception of the entire left on Charles Manson and Ted Kennedy- But that didn't stop them.

I fear this attitude isn't far away and destined to happen all over again.

God forbid Bush succeed. That's the heart of the whole issue. You can take any stance they have, any action and boil it down to that sentence. He must not succeed. Ever.

They need to be right, at any cost. Any cost at all.

Hooky!

2005-05-26T17:58:00.000-04:00

I played hooky today.

Burned a personal day, slept waaaay too long and it's flippin' gorgeous outside. Blue skies, light breeze, and the windows in the house are open, letting the wind blow through.

I then started poking around the web to see what's going on, stopped by Major K's site and found this.

If you've clicked on the link, I'd bet you're seeing red, but all I can do is shake my head.

He's trying way too hard to be controversial. Something has snapped in this guy's head somewhere and he's decided that negative attention is better than no attention at all. This is the kind of kid that got too many swirlies in high school, and found that the best revenge is to be annoying. Apparently getting your ass kicked one too many times has yielded a fetish for asshattery.

Check out his pictures- Not the inflammatory ones, but his own pictures, and you'll get the idea pretty quick. Mother's basement has provided a safe sanctuary.

Feh.. Even douchebags have rights. We can't selectively choose who gets freedom of speech, who gets to enjoy hard won freedom, and who lines up against us.

Sleep Deprivation

2005-05-25T16:00:00.000-04:00

Woo!

Not sleep deprived yet- However, tomorrow I will be. Tonite is the first of four consecutive nights at the local Holliday Inn, and should be.. well- Long.

By Friday morning, I will no doubt fall asleep putting my shoes on (yes- It has happened before..) trudge out the door and all but put my head under the coffee maker down at the convenience store.

I will then crawl back into my truck, blast some really cheesy "BiffandButtwipe" morning show and schlep on in to work. I will stare at my computer screen, mis-type my password three times, lock myself out, and go outside and have a cigarette. Work blows on days like that, but ya never know- I might get through it okay without deleting someones hard drive, crashing the network or snapping at some poor slob who decides it would be a good time to tell me his life story instead of getting to the fucking point.

My biggest pet peeve is people who blather on and on and on. Somewhere buried deeply in the midst of that noise (which sounds a lot like Charlie Brown's mother's voice..) lies a clue as to why you are standing in front of me. I do not have the patience to play verbal "Where's Waldo" just to figure out why you are standing there stealing my precious oxygen.

I will make you go away so I can continue staring into space lamenting my lack of sleep. You want help?

Here's the drill-

Who. What. Where.

That's all I need. Really.
Do NOT build me a clock lovingly crafted from trees raised from saplings in your back yard chosen carefully for texture, grain and strength, molded skillfully together with metal, hand forged in your basement... Just to tell me what fucking time it is.

Get. to. the. Point. Do not slowly suck the life force from me with pointless chatter not immediately relevant to the issue at hand.
I will then deal with said issue much faster and in a much better mood than if you were to stand there and expect me to care abut how it makes you feel when it happened.

See how easy that is?

Busy busy..

2005-05-23T22:45:00.000-04:00

I'll be on blog hiatus for a few days-

The band has a four-day stand this week, I have other odd commitments which will only leave time for me to blog a blurb or two from work.

I don't really like to blog on company time. I feel guilty, which is prolly a good thing as my employer is a tad paranoid to begin with- in addition to the fact that other bloggers have been dismissed for blogging.
Me likey da money and I needs it, I do.

Sooooo... If I do post, it may be some irratable tripe, dashed off in the throes of a sleep deprived caffeine jag, and we may all regret it later.

Bass, live music and such.

2005-05-20T22:56:00.000-04:00

It’s a wedding weekend-

I have a gig immediately following the wedding, so I will have to cut the festivities short, scurry out the door and go entertain the drunken masses.

Okay, more like smallish drunken mob.

A small gaggle of inebriated rhythmically challenged club-goers.

I need a break from the music scene.. I hardly ever pick up my bass and play it for fun like I used to. I used to love the solidity of the instrument, the lower range vibrations resonating in my hands, against my chest. I never even used to plug it in much sitting on the sofa, mindlessly running scales- which probably explains why I wear it so high up against my chest and play so hard. Technique is an inexact science, more of an art, really. Some guys play bass with picks, but I’m a finger-style snob.

I still like playing live, once I’m there- but getting motivated for a gig is an effort. I’m a little annoyed at having to haul my gear, set it up, and lug other heavy-ass chunks of equipment necessary to make sound. After 16 years this part has gotten old.

Playing live is an assault on the senses. I have a reflexive reaction once I hit the stage and it still elicits a pavlovian response.

The whip-crack of the drumsticks giving a four-count snaps me out of my funk and I go into auto-adrenaline, hands locking into position, eying the audience to gauge the mood of the crowd, peripheral vision working to keep an eye on my bandmates looking for the subtle cues as to what’s going on. The lights create a cocoon effect, separating you from the audience in a bubble-like shield, shimmering as it picks up the smoke in the air.

This is what gives stage lights their effect on a good night- The crowd is big, smoking and gyrating to the sounds you make, and the more they smoke, the more the stage lights lend the surreal effect to the show. Reds and blues and beams of yellow crisscross the stage, the audience close up looking like ghosts in the mist, the ones further back looking like a writhing shapeless mass, occasionally lit by neon signs.

The kick drum is more palpable, punching you in the back of your calves, air moving out of the sound hole, my bass amp a semi-audible roar, lights blinking just behind the beat as the limiters kick in trying to keep the bass from feeding on the speakers in a self-destructive frenzy.

Bass amps up close sound like crap- The best part of your tone is carried away from you, developing about ten feet away and at shin level, radiating out from there to rattle the bottles on the bar in the back of the room. It’s hard not to keep dialing in more mid-range in order to cut through the din, countering the effects of hearing fatigue. Do that too much throughout the night and you lose all your presence, authority and will sound like a French horn in heat. All mids and no bass is great for solo jazz but in a full on club settings you need presence, clarity and the ability to vibrate the room.

I used to chuckle as women figured out they could actually get off, sitting on the ’18 subs- The bar would get full, they’d get tired and grab a seat on a floor cabinet loaded with two 18 inch JBL’s fed by 1000 watt carver amps. It was hard to get them to move, and we had a little bunch that would line up and sit on the speakers about two songs into the third set every where we went- I think they liked the sound man more than us at that point….

Playing live can be work if the crowd just isn’t “feeling you”. I’ve been playing long enough that I need the interaction with the crowd to get my musical rocks off, like a junkie- more or less. I used to giggle at the fact that they let me play at all in front of people, and then to get paid? Well- Shit. That was better than sex. In contrast, nothing’s worse than playing your ass off and all but hearing crickets after the big finish to a song. That will suck the life out of you, and at that point you feel like you should be getting paid.

To be continued…

Skeptics unite- Carefully, and from a distance.

2005-05-18T20:22:00.000-04:00

I'm a natural born skeptic.

I know everyone has been giving Newsweek the beatdown and I really, really want to join in and kick the snot out of the troubled icon of the MSM, but that reaction alone makes me hit my mental parachute.

Why? My brain must work funny.
Every time I fell for something simply because I wanted it to be true, I've gotten burned.

One phrase in particular has caught my ear in all the hub-bub concerning the "source". I haven't checked the left side of the blogosphere, but I'm sure this has not gone unnoticed.

The source backed away.

Let me dwell on the implications of that simple statement for a moment, and for the right-sided hardcore press-hating reader- Brace yourself and count to ten.

They are rightfully being accused of sloppy journalism, but the fact that a source backed away as opposed to saying, "nope- didn't happen. I read it wrong." is a very subtle and crucial difference.

I am not naive enough to think for a minute that the media would refrain and NOT report such a story for the sake of the impact it could have on the troops. Those days died in the Tet offensive. However, the fact that the White House held back for a day or two tells me that they did a little fact checking of their own. It may or may not have given them a clue as to who the source was. (That was my token "Tinfoil Hat" moment..) Did they get to the source causing him to back down and go "rabbit" on them? Who knows?

Now- Even IF the story has merit- Should they have reported it? How should they have handled it?

Lotsa questions, and fewer answers, but if they had any other motive other than fame, money and an anti- administration agenda they would have held back and told them to fix it fast and make it right lest they blow the lid off.

That's the part that makes it so much fun to kick them when they're down.

The sound of silence

2005-05-18T18:24:00.000-04:00

I got in to work this morning, got the first few menial tasks out of the way, and started poking around the blogosphere checking all the heavy hitters hoping to absorb their take on the Angry Scottsman.
Nada. Nothing. Silencio. (At least from the right side of the spectrum....) Glenn Reynolds didn't have much, but he did have this. That deafenng silence amongst the right side tells me more than any scathing critique.
The left side of the spectrum, however- They all but creamed themselves.

That fact alone is enough to set my right knee to jerking reflexively, but I had to stand back and assess my original thoughts on the Galloway testimony. He's a tough, belligerent character, and he came in and leveled an old-fashioned full-on broadside. Just like the british man 'o war of old, there was lots of smoke and lots of noise, but how much of what he said made a dent? I think I'll wait untill the smoke and noise fade away a bit to see what happens next, but at least I give credit to the chairman for not falling out of his chair during the onslaught.

So- Fiery rhetoric notwithstanding- Did he answer all the questions? Heeelll no. He went back on the offense , handily deflecting the questions.

Did he make valid points concerning the credibility of our intelligence? Yep. Dead on.

So, in short- Is the case taking on water? Most definitely, but I don't think he sunk it just yet.

I am quoting the Scottsman direct here:

Under repeated questioning, Mr Galloway conceded that Mr Zureikat did have extensive business dealings with the Saddam regime but, challenged over whether his friend’s generous contributions to the Mariam Appeal - £900,000 by his own previous assessments - could have come from the sale of oil, he stonewalled.

Urged to say if he would repay the cash if it could be proved to have come from such a source, he again ducked the question. Mr Galloway first met Mr Zureikat, a Jordanian businessman, through his now-estranged wife Amineh Abu-Zayyad, who had attended the same university in Jordan. The men became friends and set up the Mariam Appeal in 1998.

That, my friends is where the comittee has him, IF they can keep him from wriggling out from under their thumb. That may prove hard to do, but he could be seen crowing all over the pundit circuit, and he may come in over-confident next time.

Let's hope so.

An angry scottish man is a thing to behold.

2005-05-17T12:07:00.000-04:00

I'm watching this unfold on CNN, and it struck me that an angry man with a scottish accent is very convincing.
(I doubt it would have the same punch if he had your standard british upper-crust accent, losing it's punch in the mellow vagueness so prevalent in the British House of Commons....)

Of course- He could be talking smack, but he just carpet-bombed the comittee with that brogue of his.

Cheap theories on blogging

2005-05-14T16:45:00.000-04:00

I've snooping around the blogosphere, trying to see what other blogs have that I don't, immediately noting two glaring differences.
Namely, readers and content.
I haven't really found my voice yet, and I’m somedays at a loss for content, not wanting to put up link after link of articles already bludgeoned to death by the heavy hitters who by the very act of linking can crush a server like a soda can.

Sooooo… My little impromptu research has yielded the following-

Rob’s cheap theories on blogging-

1) Anyone is interesting when studied close enough.

I’ve found a few blogs who interest me because they don't really have a theme. They are literally journals of ordinary people living ordinary lives- Who happen to write well. The very act of writing about mundane things in an interesting way has a way of sucking me in just to see what happens next.

2) There appears to be a new phenomenon- “Blog-Groupies”

Some blogs have become a de-facto homeless shelter for would-be bloggers who write mini-epics in the comments, or blatant plugs for their own blogs. Others still are full of sycophants sucking up to the host- Blog-groupies, if you will. (Sorry- no links to egregious comment-whoring)

3) Buckshot vs. Sniper round.

There are those who post three or four quick blurbs per day about nothing much as opposed to a single well-aimed post with substance every few days. (I prefer substance, but I often fall short.)

4) Link-a-palooza in the sidebar.

Blogrolls are getting out of control. There’s a few who have sidebars so long it would take days to visit all their "closest" blog- buddies, most of whom have never been read more than once by the host blogger. I have a very select few in my sidebar, for various reasons but mostly because I read them daily. Blogrolls are blatant link-whoring, and it’s certainly a forgivable infraction, but Jeez… Enough already.

That's the short list- I do hereby promise to become guilty of all the above at one time or another.

Yet another rant- With graphics, even!

2005-05-12T22:20:00.000-04:00

With all the death and destruction going on in the Iraq, on the part of the Iraqis or U.S. Soldiers, I am constantly amazed at the gall of the Left.
I'm not sure which one makes them happier- The fact that they can bring up "mission accomplished", or the fact that soldiers are dying.

It's a harsh charge to level, but I've seen enough. When soldiers die, it's a sarcastic 'Look how well the war is going" and when bombs go off it's "quagmire" all the while failing to realize themselves that this isn't about the war-
It's about them being right. They will never, ever allow themselves to be wrong, no matter what lengths they have to go to to make it so.

They don't really care about the tragedy of a lost soldier and his family- That is purely secondary to the primary issue in their minds which is "see, I told you so". Every death brings a small flicker of private pleasure in their minds, proving them "right" Their reputations are at stake, they, the enlightened ones, the dreamers, who do nothing but bitch from the cheap seats. Enlistments are down?
Haw, haw.

Trumpeting the fact that enlistments are down is a lot like discovering elephant poop instead of the great white elephant in the middle of the room. Pure genius. If a young person can get a job in the safety of the states, why would he subject himself to the possibility of duty in Iraq? People are still volunteering. As in- Signing up willingly. Showing up knowing what the risks may well be, in spite of all your efforts.

To the left, I pose this question- (again)
What are you doing? You could join the peace corps, if you thought your voice wasn't being heard- I could get behind that, and you'd get some dirt under your nails and probably a better idea of what your ideals are worth. Put them to the test. DO SOMETHING besides run your mouth. The vast majority of you are barely even part time, at that- The occasional saturday afternoon, and every now and then you really gird your loins and go on a bus trip and wave signs and sing songs.

That is almost so pointless as to be beneath contempt.

Wise? Enlightened? You fail to grasp such a simple concept as this; Speech and peacefull assembly are protected here in the U.S. If you were in danger of being imprisoned, beaten and tortured, I would give you the measure of respect you so desperately crave. (Getting arrested and a facefull of pepper pray is not being beaten and tortured, BTW.)

You have lost touch with America, you have lost your dignity and you have all but lost your mind.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

Pull your nose out of Hollywood's backside- They have no clue what life is like in the real world, and apparently, neither do you.
Springsteen is a great songwriter, but he's only useful to you with a guitar in his hand, and he couldn't tell you the price of a gallon of milk if you held a gun to his head. We in the real world do not walk around with guitars in our hands- We work. Get it?
We blog and rant on AM Radio because you own everything else. Our opinions were not being represented anywhere, so we built our own network, far away from you, the glamour of FM and New York news. Leave us alone. We like it here without you.
Last- and this will cause a few aneurisms- Support the war, even if it causes you so much physical agony your internal organs fail. The sooner they get things done, the sooner they come home, and the sooner you can play revisionist historian.

In short-

2005-05-10T15:02:00.000-04:00

I grew up in a house full of women.
Three sisters, which equals four mothers, six pairs of eyes in the back of the head and a crap load of intuition. A whole lot of love, don't get me wrong, but "feminine mystique" is about as real as Santa Claus to me.

My childhood?
I couldn't get away with nuthin'.

However, I learned a lot about women- (some of which I wish I hadn't..) but I also learned when to just shut up and go with the flow. (No pun intended..) Nothing will suck the life out of a thirteen year old boy like having to run to the 7-11 for tampons and panty hose.

Especially when your friends see you.

More than once.

Your'e more afraid of coming home without the panty hose and tampons than you are of your friends beating the crap out of you.

I learned to avoid it by throwing a fit, buying the wrong size, or disapearing outright but there were times when necessity outwheighed my whining, as women in close proximity with each other will run on the same cycle. I was outgunned, outnumbered and definitely not mean enough.
Things I believe about women-

They will discuss any body function- in excruciating detail- with each other provided the women outnumber the men in the room. I do mean ANY body function.
They will also discuss their sex lives in same graphic manner- again, provided they outnumber the men. (If you think your sex life is private between you and your Wife/GF, guess again, bucko. Her best friend AND all of her friends know how well, how often, and the answer to the size question..)
They date by comparison. In other words: If Jane has a boyfriend who sings to her or buys her Teddy Bears, Jill will automatically scan the memory banks to see when the last time you bought her a teddy bear. (Never mind the fact that he may be a homeless musician, bribing his way out of his last binge with coke and hookers..That's not the point.)
They cheat just as much as men, for the same reasons- But- They will close ranks when it happens to them, and better at excusing it when it's their turn. (As a musician, I can tell you that "girls night out" can sometimes get pretty ugly. I've been on the recieving end more than once, and they hide important pieces of jewelry just as well as men do..)
They have more going on in their heads at any given time than we do all day. (They can juggle an amazing amount of things and remain totally focused.)
If you've ever walked by a group of women and wondered what they're talking about, you can bet the conversation is centered around one of three things: Babies or children, men, or sex. That's it. There are smaller-sub categories, but that's pretty much it.
Once they figure you out- You're done. Game over, roll over and play dead, or hang on for the ride. (Fortunately, they make us a whole lot more complex than we really are, so this can take a while, and it's not necessarily a bad thing when they do figure us out.)

This is not to say that I harbor some deep dislike of women, but I do know them pretty well.
To know them is still to love them.

The Life Nocturnal

2005-05-07T15:07:00.000-04:00

The band is off this weekend, which finds me living the life nocturnal with nothing better to do. Hence, don’t be surprised if you see some extra posts, much ado about nothing and some random silly pictures. Boredom has a price, so I shall foist its consequences off on you, the unlucky reader.

I played a duo gig on Cinco de Mayo for a bunch of Poker widows at the local Eagles. Women slightly past their prime all the way to well past menopause sat around drinking scotch on the rocks and wine coolers ogling our guitarist with hard, speculative eyes. In addition to being a truly frightening musician, he’s also an amateur body builder; one of those people who can’t seem to do anything halfway.

That trait is probably what makes him so freakishly good on the guitar, pushing him to compete in one of those “look-what-I’ve-done-to-myself” contests this weekend, his body undergoing dietary torture in an effort to look like a thin-skinned sack of apples. The things one has to do to get your body to look like that is an exercise in self-flagellation, a masochistic art in and of itself.

Me? I’d listlessly pedal a stationary bike more often if they let you smoke and drink coffee in the process.

I manage about four months of truly manic workouts every year, until my body and I come to terms that I don’t heal as fast as I used to. “Fighting thru the pain” has consequences now, and it may take six months to undo the wreckage caused by foolishly ignoring my body’s protests.

Getting old blows.
________________________

NEWS
______________________

Jim from Snooze Button Dreams has foolishly agreed to let me- along with other lucky contestants- Blogsit in his absence.

I shall do my best.