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My fourth blog. Amazing yet disconcerting. Don't worry; this'll go away in a year or so. |
First there was "I'm Studying You" ![]() ![]() ![]() Until now. Welcome to the Buffalo in your soul... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** What's up everybody? It's my day off, it's crappy outside (rainy, gloomy, and it's possibly gonna snow later), but I've got some old (and new) music so I'm gonna kick back and reminisce a little. There are three albums I distinctly remember from my youth that came out of my mom's vinyl collection every year at Christmastime (there might've been more, but these are the three that I can recall with no effort). The first one is by far the gold standard of classic Christmas music, and he's shown up a lot already on the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() ![]() The second one might only be familiar to an older crowd (and to kids like me who spent every holiday season bumpin' this)...Mitch Miller & The Gang's "Holiday Sing Along With Mitch" ![]() The last of the three though might've been my favorite, mainly because it was the most modern of the bunch at the time..."The Beach Boys' Christmas Album" ![]() ![]() ![]() The six-year-old me didn't care; yay presents! ...and I didn't know any better because at that age every Christmas song is fun and joyful and represents all of the holiday season. It's hard to pick just one song from this album, because all of the originals are pretty solid. I'll just go with the first one that popped up in my head when I thought of The Beach Boys, "The Man With All The Toys". ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() So I hate to cut you short, but obviously my afternoon is already booked. Peace, how thrilled, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Pearl Jam, "Let Me Sleep (It's Christmas Time)" "Oh when I was a kid oh how magic it seemed." Lyrics. ![]() |
![]() Good afternoon folks! I've got some extra time, so finally I'm gonna do this while I've got some excellent prompts (and can have the rest of the day to do fuck-all). Isn't life great like that? When it comes to random strangers, I'm pretty guarded. More like "repellent". Nobody messes with the dude who's got a beard halfway down his chest and side-stares like he could kill you with his thoughts. I like to think of it as "Self-Preservation", but it's more like "if I leave you alone, you should leave me alone". And because I think like that, unfortunately, that isn't always how the rest of the world sees things. Case in point: here in Cortland, we have a small bus system...there aren't a lot of buses, and they're usually "short buses". They're made to seat maybe 16-18 people at the most. The problem is some routes tend to get more passengers, which leads to crowding...and I don't like to be crowded among strangers. I like my space. And when I'm on the bus to school, it's a 25 minute ride, so I bring a book to pass the time. Now, if there's anything I hate more than random strangers in awkward situations I can't get out of trying to make conversation with me, it's either: 1) people trying to talk to me while I have headphones on; or 2) people trying to talk to me while I'm reading. Clearly in these moments I'm doing something that screams "Don't bother me!"...but some chumps don't understand this policy of personal silence toward my well-being. I understand that they're trying to be friendly, but their annoyance trumps all intended goodwill. I know I've also touched on this before, but I have a propensity for being easily agitated by random people doing random things. Meds like Gabapentin have probably kept me from getting myself into confrontations with strangers because they're annoying me with loud conversations, ignorant behavior, and a general lack of concern for the people around them. Look, when I'm alone, I'm a quiet person. When I get on the bus to go to the store, I sit down, shut up, and try to relax. The only problem? The bus route to the grocery store stops at senior housing, and I can never seem to avoid the rowdy group of senior citizens who, I swear, can be louder than a frat party sometimes. No bullshit. Pack eight of 'em on a bus and you may as well be attending a sleepover with teenage girls, only with walkers and Depends. There is no concern that there might be other people on the small, quaint bus that don't wanna hear every detail of 70 years times eight. Save it for the pot-luck luncheon. That said, I do have appreciation for small gestures of kindness. If I get behind you and your overflowing cart of goodies in the supermarket checkout line and I only have two or three things, please and thank you for letting me go ahead of you. It's only the right thing to do. And I don't expect people to be nice and/or decent...I expect them to be dicks, just so I can be pleasantly surprised when someone smiles randomly in my direction. I'm over thinking the world is a super-happy place where people are nice all the time, because I know everyone's battling something outside of what you're seeing...whether it's drama at home, or an illness, or they're just having a bad day. I got problems of my own too, and I don't expect the cashier at Kinney to solve them just by making small talk while waiting for my debit card to be accepted, nor should I think that me passing a compliment along will automatically make someone's day (more often than not, it just comes off as creepy, and I don't need another stigma attached to my face). So I say live and let live. You can't always trust that someone else will do the happy-making for you. ![]() I can honestly say that my reasons for writing haven't changed since the day I started as a teenager over twenty years ago. The outcome may differ, but the intent is still there, and that's twofold...to make people think, and to have a conversation outside of conventional purposes. I write so I can discuss things that normally wouldn't come up if we were sittin' and chillin' over a cup of coffee or a slice of pizza. I've found a groove that I'm more comfortable with now via blogging; it's a bridge to something I wasn't getting out of writing poetry and that, I find, has helped me write poetry more suited for the times and places I've been at in my life. As Kurt Cobain once sang in "Serve The Servants" ![]() Another quote I like is from The Tragically Hip's Gord Downie: "Serve the song." You have to do right by your words; you have to be the integrity behind them. Writing serves as the bridge between what you want to say and your actions. It's not just reflecting, but it's also filling in gaps and lapses of communication and biographic details. I don't expect to win a Pulitzer or a Nobel Prize because I have a flashy blog with music and tidbits of my experiences and thoughts and opinions, nor do I think someday kids will study me in their English classes and think, "Man, this guy should've invented blogging!". No. I'm just sharing, and if people like it, cool. If not, hey, that's cool too. A hater equals someone who read, thought, and had an opinion...and I respect that just as much as someone who adores every last word as if it were gospel. In this format I'm surprisingly open and available to anyone who has something to say. This is my opening salvo. This is how I talk and communicate to the outside world, from Buffalo to parts unknown (and sometimes back again). Why do I write? It's an act of hope and communion, and I've been told I'm pretty good at it. But mainly, it's because I can and I will. To compare me to someone else is blasphemous to the person you're using and who you think I am, because that in essence is taking something away from their individuality. I'm me, and that's all I came here to be, and that's how I'll leave here...just like you're you and can be like no other. While the majority of the world is waiting for another Poe, Dylan, or Grumpy Cat, some of us are too busy being great at being who we are. If you're one of those people, don't ever stop...we'll find you. ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** How about something slightly more humorous than what I've been talking about lately, huh? It's the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Awesome. Time for a nap and a raucous afternoon of playing the Family Guy game on my tablet. Get stuff! Peace, oh geez look at this, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() ![]() A fine Monday to you all, festive readers! 'Tis the season and all that other happy hoo-ha ![]() I'll admit when I first read the Blog City prompt in my head I was saying something unintelligible and in a low voice, like "Yeeeeeeeee-eeeeeez" (with the corners of my mouth practically touching my ears). This is dangerous territory, in my opinion. I'm not sure what messing with the wishes of the dead gets you, but I don't think they'll be saving you a seat behind the pearly gates next to them, that's for sure. And I'm not religious or overly philosophical or anything like that, but wouldn't karma come into play if you did something like this? Yeah yeah, the temptation's so hard to resist..."They're dead anyway; what do they care?" but that's almost what I'm sayin'. You just don't want to take chances and tempt fate...there's a reason why some things, even in this information-driven era, should and almost need to remain private between certain parties. It lends itself to mystique, and besides, what fun is it knowing absolutely everything there is to know about a person of interest (unless you're a cop or a stalker)? I don't think we have the right to disobey anyone's personal wishes, living or dead, period. No matter how much we might want to for our own personal gain (and who else would stand to profit? Not the dead person...). Sure, there might be some juicy stuff in those notes, but does it matter? Why should bringing up the past be a part of anyone's future? And not only are the subjects of these letters possibly still grieving, but now they've got to contend with inquiries regarding otherwise private details of relationships between themselves and the writers. I mean, who cares? People who get into this stuff...I'll refer you to my initial thought on this topic..."Yeeeeeeeee-eeeeeez". ![]() As much as I want to be one of those "Joy To The World" types, well, I'm not. I'm cynical, grouchy, selfish, sometimes arrogant, occasionally I have my head up my ass, and often I don't give nearly the damn I'm supposed to be giving at any particular time. "Joy" doesn't even crack the top 10 of my priorities or preferences. "Not beating the snot outta fake Santa Clauses" ranks higher than "Joy". Joy ![]() I've often heard it said that "it only takes one person to make a difference". Yet it takes a village to raise a child, a nation of millions to hold us back, and 50 million Elvis fans can't be wrong (Spoiler Alert: yes...yes, they all are). One person makes a difference. As tempting as it would be to make some kind of socio-political statement, especially given the current state of affairs in our great nation, I'm not gonna. Just let those words roll over your internal monologue one more time..."one person can make a difference". I'm bah humbugging out because I don't know of anyplace where this is actually true. Not on a football team, not on the Supreme Court, not on the local or national news, and certainly nowhere in the private sector. Yeah, there's feel-good stories all over the place all the time, and there's even more that aren't publicized, but is that truly one person changing someone's life for the long haul? How is that determined? Is there a follow-up study? Where are the facts? I could go on and on, and you and I could go back and forth all night about the good in everyone versus the status quo of the world in general. But you and I both know we have neither the time nor the patience for that. So in lieu of being a complete Debbie Downer regarding this topic, here's what you should take from this discussion ("discussion" meaning "I type and you read and then we shake hands and walk away"): don't rely on anyone else to make a difference for you in your life if you're not willing to be the person who makes a difference in your life. Plain and simple. Pass it around. ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** I...I just couldn't do it. I know it's "Mariah Monday" and all (sorry Jeff ![]() ![]() But what I can do is provide an almost-equally unlistenable version (it's so bad that I didn't even make it through the whole thing) by some death metal band I've never heard of. It's the least I can do to break up the hustling, bustling monotony of an "all Mariah, all the time Monday". ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Whoo-hoo! I finished an entry on a Monday night just in time for the Monday Night Football kickoff! That's, like, a first. Cool. Well, enjoy the rest of your "Mariah Monday" y'all...peace, I'm just gonna keep on waiting, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** Good evening friends! No Blog City or Blogging Circle Of Friends prompts for today, so you get a short, sweet little entry with my song for the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() ![]() ![]() That leaves me with tonight's song, and I'm going with Weezer's "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". I love Weezer, but I must not be that big a fan because I keep forgetting that they actually put out a Christmas EP back in 2008 (Rolling Stone once included it on their list of "The 25 Greatest Christmas Albums Of All Time" ![]() Alright kids...gonna see what the rest of y'all have been up to and try to call it an early night. Peace, figgy pudding, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! ![]() ![]() |
![]() Greetings dear readers! I've got a big bag of beef jerky, some shelled pistachios, and my song all ready to go for the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() How do I feel about homemade gifts? I think, like many creative types, they're much more meaningful than crap you buy at a store (for the most part). I mean yeah, there's certain things you can't just make outta paperclips, rubber bands and some Bondo, plus you've got to know your recipient (and by "know" I mean "understand that they'll appreciate something crafty and/or handmade"), but generally something you make yourself is widely accepted as "having put thought and effort and time and love" into the gift. And that's where the line for me is drawn. Going to a craft fair? You're buying something made from someone else's hands...just like going to any other store and grabbing something off the shelf. The only difference is you're supporting a (hopefully) local artist of some sort, and not some dumb corporation. It's like going to the farmer's market for veggies instead of the super-ultra-mega grocery store or growing your own. I also understand that not all of us have the time nor the talent to make gifts for everyone by hand, and that's great that there's people who do and can be supported by selling their wares...most of the time their stuff is nicer than what you can get basically anywhere else. You might pay a little more, but again, you know where your money's going. Store bought goods? Yeah, until there's a Do-It-Yourself TV kit or a Portable iPod Maker, you'll have to bite the bullet and go to a store or shell out dough online. It's unavoidable. But it boils down to a point I sorta glossed over earlier: ya gotta really know your recipient. What do they want? What do they need? What have they dropped hints for? You don't want to embarrass yourself by giving someone something they don't have any use for. And if all else fails, a gift card to their favorite store or restaurant is always in play. ![]() Yikes...this is tough. I don't know if I've really seen enough Christmas movies to have a favorite character, ya know? Every year I tell myself I'm gonna find a way to watch some of the classics, but I never do. And they don't, in my opinion, make holiday movies like they used to. Or maybe they do, but they just end up on obscure cable networks instead of real movie theaters. I dunno...this is a subject admittedly I know very little about. That said, the first one that comes to mind is Clark Griswold from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation ![]() ![]() That's the best I could do there. I don't watch a lot of movies or retain much information from them when I do usually. ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** Obviously this song was gonna show up multiple times on the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok, well, I'm gonna jet and check out some of the other tunes for Day Five of the Soundtracker Christmas playlist (hockey game permitting). Peace, they told me, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() What up y'all? Been a long day...and I swore to myself I'd start this earlier to get it out of the way, but nope. That didn't happen. I hate when I do that. Anyway, this is a tough prompt. I'm tempted to say no...not because there hasn't been a particular place that has inspired me in such a way, but because I've been to a lot of different areas and have seen a lot of things. By no means am I some fancy world traveler person, but I've made my way around a little. Before I get into my actual response though, allow me a little side rant that came to mind while I was pondering this. Here's what I find annoying about travelling, or maybe this should just be more specific to people who relocate: people who go somewhere and suddenly take on the accent and/or dialect native to a specific region. Example: when I was younger, I had a group of friends through a girlfriend...and one of them moved from Buffalo to Boston for school. Buffalonians have their tics and traits, but our accent (if you can even call it that) is nothing compared to Boston's. So this girl comes back during Thanksgiving break- she's been in Boston for maybe three months- and she's speakin' straight outta Beantown like she's lived there all her life. I wanted to shake her and scream "Stop it!! You're annoying because that's not your voice!" but I restrained myself and I don't remember how I did but I wish I did because I'm sure I could probably use that as some kind of coping mechanism today. But anyway...why do people do that? I even caught myself doing it once...in the span of a few months awhile back I spent a long weekend in New York City, and when I came back I started dating a girl who was born and raised just outside of NYC, and wound up working with some New Jersey transplants. Because I was surrounded by what I can only consider a verbal assault on my ears and vocal cords, I began to take on characteristics of their speech patterns. Friends that weren't associated with these people took notice and started mocking me because I was saying words like "car" and "far" differently. And I know what you're thinking! How can three stupid little letters be pronounced in a manner that you're not accustomed to? Lemme tell ya, it happens. I don't know how, I don't know why, and it's ridiculous. /end rant. So yeah, anyway, this prompt...I'm evoking the twist method here, mainly because it's my blog and I can. Y'all know I'm a Buffalo native living in Cortland now, but Cortland's not home. Buffalo's home. Every time I go back and visit I wanna stay. It's everything...people, places, familiarity. Even if I haven't actually been through downtown in a couple of years, and some of it has changed since and my last memories aren't exactly positive, it'll never leave me. If I stay in Cortland the rest of my life (God forbid) or if I move on to someplace else, I'll always be a true Western New Yorker at heart. #buffalove ![]() Cinnamon is the first one that comes to mind...I can be standing in a store in the middle of July, smelling a plain cinnamon candle, and suddenly I'm mentally transcending into holiday loathing and hatred associated with retail work. That's why I refuse to buy cinnamon-scented air fresheners as well. It's a pleasant smell, no doubt, but for some reason it just reminds me of the ugly parts of Christmas, and not the joyful stuff. And as soon as I typed "Cinnamon", pine popped in my head. Pine's not so bad, I think, because in my opinion I don't think many people burn pine-scented candles throughout the year (and don't ask me why I'm so fixated on candles; I have no idea). Although I'm sure if you really wanted your pine fix, you could try huffing a bottle of Pine Sol, or tacking up a bunch of those little trees people hang around their rear view mirrors...good luck with that though. Anyway, pine to me represents the calmness of a Christmas tree, just chillin' in the corner smellin' all nice and bein' sparkly with tinsel and lights and ornaments and whatnot. It's the one thing that (usually) stays in one place during its existence throughout the season (I've never really had crazy-acting animals or over-adventurous small children to worry about bringing down a tree, so please save me from your stories about how "trees don't stay in one place!!"; don't try to ruin my shine); while the hustle and bustle is on until the fat bastard makes his way down your chimney, the constant- the standard- is the tree. Even if it's artificial...just looking at it reminds me that it's imitating something that's supposed to smell like pine, and I can almost sense it in an associative way. Pretty straightforward stuff right there. ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** I figured somewhere along the way during the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() "The rhymes you hear are the rhymes of Darryl's, But each and every year we bust Chrsitmas carols." Lyrics. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok, well, I've killed enough minutes of your life that you'll never get back for one day, so I'll leave you be to do other things that are hopefully more productive, redeeming, and entertaining. Thanks for stopping by; come again! Peace, chillin' and coolin', and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() Good evening friends! Nice prompts today, so I won't waste any time ruining them (which happens on days when they randomly pop into my head, allowing me tons of ideas that usually wind up going nowhere). Straight up, Christmas is better when you're a kid...mainly because you don't know any better. Any kind of chocolate you get is good because yeah candy! You don't have to clean anything up, you don't have to shop in a crowded mall, and you don't have to work long hours to make up for the demands your job puts on you at the end of the year. The worst part about Christmas for a kid? Two things: getting clothes as presents, and waiting 45 minutes to an hour to sit on Santa's lap for 10 seconds (at least that's how it was for me...as an adult I've worked in malls and now it seems like the wait is much shorter). How is it fun being an adult this time of the year? Unless you're Elle - on hiatus ![]() ![]() ![]() I suppose the one cool thing about Christmas is if you're a parent and you get to watch your little (stress: "little") ones' eyes light up once they see all the presents. You get to experience their joy as they open their gifts, knowing they think they've worked very hard at being good the last few weeks because otherwise they might get a lump of coal in their stocking (filthy lying adults). But that only lasts for 15 minutes or so and then BOOM! You're back to being mom and dad, doing adult shit while kids get to do basically nothing but play until the middle of the first week in January. And who's gonna clean up the mess? Who's gonna take down the decorations and the tree? Who's gonna do all that and go to work on December 26th like Christmas didn't just happen because hello job?? Dude, being an adult sucks. Then again, we we all started out as kids at some point, so I guess we had our fair share of the fun, and now it has to even out. ![]() Normally any other year I'd say "Getting outta bed more days than not" but that's not true. This year I attempted going back to school at age 39...and it hasn't been easy nor has it gone quite as I expected, but I finally did something I've been wanting to do for too long. I had an opportunity I never thought I'd get again...and I know for a lot of people who wish they could go back to school but think they can't for whatever reasons, there are options out there if you know where to look. ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** Did you know that on this day back in 1992 The Muppet Christmas Carol ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() And that's where I'm leaving you tonight...I've already blown off the Sabres game, and I've probably already missed the first quarter of the Thursday Night Football game, so I'm gonna edit this and get on my merry way. Peace, the message if we hear it, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() What's up y'all? Just a major snowstorm blowin' through Central New York, that's all...it's nothing though compared to what my friends and family back home in Buffalo got a couple weeks back. Did you guys hear about that? My old neighborhood in Lancaster got 84 inches- 84!!- between Tuesday and Friday of that week. Everything was shut down...drug stores, thruways and highways, Walmart, you name it, and there was no way you were getting to it. Like my doctor said last week as we were talking about it, "Why do even live here?", and he's right. But as much as I hate winter and snow and cold, most years it doesn't destroy things like hurricanes and tornadoes (emphasis on "most years"). But anyway...I'm gonna hit a few prompts in case you're snowed in, and if you're not, I'm gonna hit 'em anyway. ![]() Luckily, the BLOG CITY prompt today is easy...I'd rather be the "off the hook sibling" all the way. Now see, when I was younger, maybe I woulda had a different answer. I definitely would've wanted to be king, because who wouldn't if they had the chance? But with my luck something would happen and I'd default myself outta position, or the king would outlive me (a morbid possibility, I know), and I'd have to hear the "Sorry, but you're not our guy" song and dance again. Which sucks. Naw man, I'll take being the sibling because while there's an outside shot of maybe taking the throne, it's highly unlikely...and therefore I don't have to worry about all the responsibilities that the king has, but with a lot of the perks. You can't tell me a non-throne sitting prince doesn't at least have a bank card and some kind of allowance! He probably gets some special treatment! You know most kings and queens are like "Here son, we know you're not gonna be king anytime soon ![]() Of course, this viewpoint is filtered through an American's lens. Or just my lenses, which could stand for a good cleaning. ![]() Now, when I see the word "rant", especially when associated with the word "winter", that's my cue to go apeshit about something not necessarily related to either topics...but I'm gonna take this in a different direction. When I initially read the prompt my mind immediately went to a poem I'd written back in January of 1999...and I was like "no, I'm not gonna dig through my notebooks to find it, I'm too tired and lazy" but then I was like "well, I can't just tell people about it and how it was once an item here on WDC but I deleted it for the port space so maybe I should at least try", and thankfully, because I have such an anal-retentive ordering and filing system, it took me longer to move the shit off the bins my notebooks are in than it did to actually find the right notebook. I'm so ridiculous. Anyway, from January 11th, 1999, here's a poem about being on your own during the winter...ya know when you're young and you've got your own place and all your bros are like "Dude, we're gonna hang out here all the time!!" and then it snows really bad and you really wanna have someone over just to chill with but no one wants to 'cuz it's all crappy out and you can't see and the driving is treacherous? I was stuck home by myself with no one to talk to but a bottle of wine, and this poem happened (but I left out the part about going to the local hot dog place down the street from me once the snow let up because for some reason wine drunk = Texas Hots ![]() ![]() Merlot On a winter's eve of silence what beckons more than friends do or winds that bring the softest snow than a chilled spirit not unlike mine, yet apparently more favorable to the palate. While it is true it wants me more than I am wanted I do not come without baggage. I care about myself, and what I think and what I know but to indulge in its bitterness and fruit-laced delight is to know what a few of life's finer things are like. The mind will not miss what the body is owed; so I spend my time creating a path so carelessly roamed. It is a lost era, these few weeks, and I am in debt to myself some pleasure. The cold outside and that of those around me has shut me in again. What is left but to make the most of it, I ask. My temple of thought becomes overrun with mystique as my insides fill with the liquid I know too well but fail to understand its reasoning. If I remember a better time it will not be now, not alone. Not when I can ask more of it than I should know instead of just becoming the feeling. All of my senses have briefly awakened at a simultaneous moment as the aura of what is to be arouses me. One more time down the road is all I ask, so maybe I can never go home. And someday I'll be able to enjoy life just a little more. Yup, that's it. Pretty terrible, right? If I were writing it today it would sound a lot different, fo' sho'...but that's from back when I thought I could actually be a poet, and be all sensitive and use big words and whatever ![]() ![]() ![]() ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** This is the part I know the people over at the "12 Days of "Christmas"" ![]() "Get out your silk jeans and your space shoes. ´Cause I've got some sweet, wild, devastating news. yeah. (T.Rexmas)" Lyrics. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok, well, I think I've covered just about everything...hope y'all are stayin' warm and safe. Peace, gonna dance 'til we drop, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() Hey folks! Welcome back! I know it's been awhile, and I kinda decided without telling anyone I was gonna take some time off from WDC to concentrate on school...and then the bottom sorta fell out on me without really any warning. I guess what goes around comes around, so let that be a lesson to you all: When you leave WDC with out saying much, your life will instantly fall apart. True story, bro. For some reason I started having anxiety and panic issues again, which made me sick...and of all the time for my phone to break, that was the perfect time ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Then there was the sleep thing, of which I was hardly getting (but you don't need to hear about those details). And writing...I was tapped out. There aren't enough hours left in the day sometimes to write the way I'm comfortable putting up a blog entry. I just needed a break. I think we all hit that wall from time to time. I'm slowly getting myself back, and I wasn't gonna fully return to WDC until January, but I've been participating in "The Snail Mail Forum" ![]() ![]() ![]() Speaking of Christmas... ** Image ID #2014892 Unavailable ** In the forum for The Soundtrackers' 12 Days I think I said something about "thinking outside the box" and then "stepping on the box" and "so on", but then the BCF prompt came down for today and I thought "why not do the same entry for both, because that's the obvious thing to do and I don't want this entry to be too long". Very out-of-the-box-ish ![]() Anyway, since this is supposed to be about favorite Christmas songs, I'm not sure I have any that are considered #1, elite, ultimate most favorite (I've worked too many holidays in retail to fully ever enjoy any Christmas song ever again), so I'm going with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmas Time" because it's bright and catchy and gets stuck in your head in a good way. And when I first realized how much I loved it, it was a Christmas Eve about twenty years ago. I'd recently bought my first car, so my girlfriend at the time and I were driving from the suburbs into the city of Buffalo (about a 20 minute drive), and we were already running late, but I soooooo wanted to hear that song. I was driving around different blocks in my aunt's neighborhood with my girl manning the "scan" button on the radio (because all the stations by then were playing Christmas songs) hoping to hear it. After awhile I was about to give up, and aimed the '89 Plymouth Horizon to my aunt's. When we rounded the corner to her street, we nailed a station playing it...a Christmas miracle! Of course we sat in the car until the song was over. ![]() And yeah, I've heard cover versions, but this is one instance where, to me, the original is and always will be the standard bearer of excellence and stuff. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Well, like I said I wanted to keep this short today, and I did the best I could. Peace, ding dong, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
![]() How's it goin' out there? Still waitin' on a prompt for "Invalid Item" ![]() In my opinion, smartphones are only as smart as the people who are usin' 'em. I think if you took away 90% of the population who are all like "I'd be soooo lost without my phone!!", maybe we'd get some shit done around this world. Like, would you really be so lost if your smartphone usage mainly consisted of Candy Crush and drunk tweeting (at least, when I see dumbness on display while scrolling through Twitter, I'm hoping it's drunk tweeting)? If I can't wake up in a world where the majority of smartphone users who haven't used theirs for more than Facebook or texting while in the grocery line aren't in the fetal position on street corners all over with their hands perma-clawed in the iPhone yoga hand-stance, then let me sleep and sleep and sleep. Tablets though...they still pose some tiny shred of necessity, and I'm saying this because I use mine both for educational and leisure purposes. That's where my school textbooks are...my tablet. It's a lot easier carrying that than a laptop (and you're talking about someone who used to strap his laptop onto his back and use crutches to get to the free Wi-Fi hotspots). It's not as functional as a laptop (yet...I still won't type a paper or a blog entry on it), but when I need to kill some time at school it does mostly what I need it to do. Maybe (and I know I haven't looked hard enough for one, but I'm sure it's out there) if there was a flash drive that I could plug in to the micro-USB charger port, I'd use my tablet for more than Angry Birds. That would seem way more convenient than swapping out the Micro-SD card whenever I wanna go from tablet to laptop when working on important documents...guess that's kinda my fault for not thinking all of this through so far (and don't get me started on "clouds", because I'm soooo not ready for that yet ![]() But really, this prompt may as well read "Take out the internet...then where would the effects on your life be felt?" It doesn't say anything about shitty non-smartphones, or computers in general...so you could still do the basics like walking and chewing gum at the same time, uninhibited by Facebook drama, or writing/reading graffiti on bathroom stalls without worrying about dropping your tablet in the shitter. People could go back to being real people instead of using their devices as an excuse to not make eye-contact. The world didn't exactly crash and burn back in the old days without technology...why are we so afraid now that it might if it were to lose that ability? Kids still got to daycare, parents still got to work through snowstorms, and dinner still got put on the table before all this techie hullabaloo. If you claim your world's gonna suffer significant setbacks when the whole internet of the world goes down, you're probably taking it for granted and/or doing the whole internet thing wrong. (So said on a computer reliant on the internet for you to have seen this and by using computer-based methods.) Jus' sayin'...don't take for granted that your gadgets are always gonna be there to bail you out. Have some human-based contact skills ready at the quick for backup. Your smartphone can't change a flat tire or let you call someone who can when when you're ass-out in the middle of nowhere, and that tablet won't take tests for you. There's still some shit ya gotta know in this world just to get by...all the ingenuity we have in our hands is no substitute for the ingenuity within us. BCF PROMPT: "They say writing is lonely work. What do you think? Is that an exaggeration or the truth?" It's a little bit of both, so allow me to come at it from multiple angles. ![]() ![]() In the sheerest physical sense, I find it much easier to write alone and without distraction. It's easier to focus with the music off and no one around (or at least somewhere away from the din of lives happening). When I'm doing this, which I guess I do a lot, I want to think my thoughts and concentrate on what you might be reading. It's hard to do when there's all sortsa clamor and nonsense goin' on. Yet on another side of the die, some of the best works have been created because of isolation, the sadness in the author's heart that drives people away, and the realization that there is no point in including anyone in something they're not as supportive of as your intentions hope. Any pop singer worth his or her G-string can sing a song about loneliness, but are they really feeling it? Is the integrity in the right place? Are they really, truly lonely? Probably not. I'm alone fortunately and unfortunately because of my own design (and don't get all neo-hippie on me and say "But you're never alone! I'm here, 87 thousand billion footsteps or a shoddy phone call at the wrong time away!" because that's not "being there" most of the time). As inviting and accepting as I am personally, I'm just as easy to push people away...maybe I don't want to be bothered, or I don't want to feel like I'm bothering them. It's a fine line I've been trying to manage for a long time. It's not easy, because you can be led a million times toward something with everyone telling you the same one thing, but the minute you try applying it, it backfires a million times more...and when you seek out lonership, that's when you get people wanting to suck you back in to another reality...a reality which isn't comfortable for you because yeah, lonely works more. Sometimes, you're in limbo between "talk to me, but leave me alone" and "I really need some space, but within other peoples' spaces too". And no one wants to be told what the fuck to do...coming from having been on both sides of that. And I can see I've already drifted off the main point. Loneliness is often superficially described by people who have no business talking about it or know what it means, to the same crowd that shares the "one day, I felt sad and lonely so I'll tell you people all about it" sentiments. Me? I'm happy being alone because it means I don't have to burden anyone...I don't have to talk to anyone. I don't care. I lost that caring gene sleeping in a park when almost all I owned got stolen, including words I'd penned to page. It went away with nights spent sleeping in laundromats and homeless shelters, and waking up to a seizure instead of food. Loneliness isn't as universal as it's played out to be. It's written to death about by people who feel it, and consumed by the masses who then think they know what it feels like to be alone. Technology doesn't care when you're alone...in fact, that's the first thing to leave you after people do. And technology doesn't always prove to be the great reuniter. Sometimes, no matter how hard you want it and how hard you try, there are no answers for being alone. I could staple a note to my chest that says "Please save me!!" and all you'd find in the middle of God's Country is me with my pockets emptied and my last possessions taken. That's no way for people who love writing, regardless of how much they can be an asshole at times, to live. ![]() ![]() Simple instructions, really... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I tried to enter my name in the zom bie 5k Run For The Roses race taking place at the cemetery next month. I forgot my I.D. so they listed my entry "pending" until I had the means to complete it. When I went back, I was told, "Sorry, all the slots are taken. You'll have to try again next year." I became a little unraveled and said, "You don't understand! In my condi tion I might not make it!" The organ izer looked at me again and said, "Very well, Mr. Flood*...just hold your self together and we'll see what we can do to accomo date you in this year's event. I don't want you losing your brain over this." (*Mr. Flood isn't a real zombie ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok...I'm going on now with the rest of my evening, and I suggest y'all do the same. Peace, drag your blanket blindly, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |