Day 2: Gettysburg, PA

Today, I checked out the Gettysburg battlefield. It was very cool and informative, and I kind of felt like a tour guide to my parents, since I had just learned about it in my AP history class. (An interesting thing about the free-soil party is that not all of them were abolitionists. Some wanted the admitted states to be free so that there wouldn't be any blacks in the area.) I ran down part of the road and I felt like I was a part of the war. You could almost feel the presence of the soldiers, it was crazy.

But God, did I feel like a tourist. There were some things that just made a mockery of the whole thing. Get your picture transposed onto a picturesque background of the battlefield. A T-shirt that made Abraham Lincoln look like one of those people in those old iPod commercials. You know what I'm talking about. It was gross, and I kind of felt bad. The people that fought there would be insulted by that shit. But what am I to do? Nothing. Just sit and watch as the tourists infiltrate.


Day 1: Lititz, PA

I spent today at my great-aunt's house. She's taken about a trillion pictures. I'm using one for an album cover. Definitely.

My great-aunt's grandson's name is Justin. He's really into mudding and country music and stuff. He can also talk your ear off. He's not really my kind of person, at all, as you can probably conclude. But he's strangely nice to be around. I guess because I don't hang around with that type of person ever. From any other perspective, he'd be pigeonholed as a hick, but once you actually start talking to people, you find out new things. He's gonna be a youth minister someday. Good on him.


Aroused by Lightheadedness

I won't be posting until Friday. I'm going down to Pennsylvania and won't be near a computer. But I'm going to write at the close of each day and then post all of them on Friday throughout the day, on top of the Friday blog. So I'll be all caught up.

Still missing those couple of days from February though. Yipes.

Recording for the new EP started today. I finally figured out the optimal setup for recording acoustic piano. I'm, for once, really satisfied with how the piano sounds. Not too murky, really clear and smooth. I love. I'm thinking of getting a large group of people to sing the last part of this one song.

I'd like to bring to your attention, this album. 'Digital Age' by Dad Rocks!

There's some beautiful guitar on this here album. It's a very peaceful and fluid body of work, done by the lead singer of Mimas. I would put his name here, but Blogger's not letting me.

You can listen to it and download it, in full, here:
or you can get it on iTunes.



The 2nd 400m is done. Just one 500m run left and this speedworkout is done. But the cottonmouth is there, and the lightheadedness is setting in. Mind compresses. Faint taste of vomit, and the outside is spinning. Voices pop in and out, but the silent brain crusher is distracting you. Silently working away, its tendrils prodding your head. Colors, spheres. and you want to see black, but it won't come, and you are still barely conscious. Save yourself and take this next one slow. Ask for some water first. You don't want to wind up like that kid from Lancaster, Massachusetts. He dropt dead after his track practice. Lancaster, Massachusetts. Your last name is Lancaster. The stars are aligning and you are going to die.

But it doesn't happen. Now you're home, still barely conscious, spread out on your new couch. Panting, downing water. A call from outside to help. With the hose. That you frantically took out and used to get rid of the chalk writing last month. Of all times. But you have to get up. Unless you want a good talking to.



Day Infinity

Today consisted of more driving, lemonade, and ice cream. I drove down to Essex to see Bobina. We ate burritos at Chipotle and were going to go mini-golfing, but we ran out of time. Stupid time. Rawr.

I proceeded to eat a peanut parfait at Dairy Queen, and now I'm blogging from Bennett's house. We're playing various Nintendo 64 games. Tony Hawk, Hydro Thunder, et cetera, et cetera.

Tomorrow, odds are I'm helping out at the Special Olympics with my brother. He ended up in the emergency room tonight, but he's doing alright. Sinus infection, I heard.

Full-length, in-depth post tomorrow. I'll actually have time then.



Long Day

PR 400m 55.5 stop Keene show Dumbledore's Army stop 8 hours driving stop

Sleep time, long day tomorrow stop


Important News-ish!

I'm gonna start recording for an EP this June. (after prom and AP tests and volunteering are done and out of the way)

At the moment, these will be the songs:
1. ptsd 2. trinity 3. inches to go before i sleep 4. perepelka 5. don't tell the kids

there's also bound to be a couple of strictly electronic interludes. still trying to name it.

overall, the songs are a lot more aggressive than anything else I've done, I'm finding myself yelling during some of them. I'm gonna keep the piano songs simple, stick to just a piano track and a couple of vocal layers. I want minimalism. But then on the interludes, I'm gonna have an insane amount of layers on things. Balance is the trick.

Today, I drove by myself for once, and just wanted to not turn back until I ran out of gas. Not that I hate anyone or anything; I just want something new.

Instead of acting on that impulse, I just started thinking. The theme of my life lately seems to be self-sufficiency. I'm increasingly finding myself trying to become more independent, I've been reading Thoreau, Bennett and Nesbit were talking about camping in the deep wilderness, and I read an article on a 94-year-old isolationist (i refuse to call him a loner, because Thoreau has taught me that there is no such thing as loneliness.) who lived in an Idaho cave for the last 60 years of his life.

And I thought: there's no such thing as a completely independent person anymore.

So then I thought: I could change that. Create a temporary, ever-changing utopia of sorts. The people in the community can only be between the ages of 20-25, since that's when people are at their mental peak and they don't have any unwilling family members to bring along, just themselves. Plus, if it was a permanent thing, it'd all feel and look a little bit cultish. So we wouldn't be looking at complete independence from the modern world, just temporary independence. So it's not really a utopia, but for all intents and purposes, I'm gonna keep calling it a utopia.

So, creative minds between the ages of 20-25 congregate in the wilderness, and live however they can. Build cabins, hunt, the whole nine. While there, these people produce a product, or products. Music, literature, anything like that. All the things that people bring have to be related to that creative product. Guitars, paper, pens, paint, canvas. Because the flaw that I saw with the Idaho isolationist is that he was just famous for who he was, but he never gave anything to the world or produced anything. This utopia wouldn't be fruitless like that.

As for the economic side, one person in the utopia must have a very profitable job so that the land can be rented/bought. Everyone else doesn't care about money.

I'm sure there are 1000's of flaws in my thinking. But it's nice to dream.



Clever Title!

Alright. Brief, brief post today. It's 10:00 PM and I just got back from watching the Blind Side with injured people. There was pizza. The movie wasn't that good. Sandra Bullock's annoying.

IN ANY CASE. I'm gonna talk about something important tomorrow.

Also, thanks Dave and J.C. for the suggestions! There will be Arctic Monkeys and, unfortunately, Lady Gaga.

Speaking of dancing:



Dance Musics?

I'm commissioner of music at this upcoming dance for my school. I'm not sure why: Have they seen my taste in music?

I dug through the depths of my iTunes archive. (2079 in my main library, 859 on my iPod) I found 7 that would be suitable for a high school dance. And I'm not even sure they would be very well-received. But here they are (click to expand):

I'm gonna need about 60-65 songs for this dance.

I could use suggestions from anyone reading this who is familiar with Top 100 music.

Also, I just saw this picture floating around my folders and files:


Here's my song of the day. Beck's Que Onda Guero. Love the beat so so so so much.



The Know-Nothings

While all the potheads were off
vaporizing, smoking,
breathing, toking,
distorting reality,
battling against conformity,
feeling an ounce of fear of getting caught,
getting caught,
sleeping, relaxing, killing time,
celebrating and rejoicing in the hands of their captivating, illicit vice,

I ran a mile's worth of events on a shoddy dirt track.

The only similarity between us is that I had a
massive case of the munchies when I got home.

And I like it this way.

I know nothing.
You know nothing.
No one knows anything.

I know nothing about what it's like
to feel a chemical creep into my brain
seep down into my skin
and then rollick in my bones
until the feeling's gone.

You know nothing about what it's like
to feel the last fourth of a 400 meter race
the out-of-body experience as you kick, lift, breathe
towards that beautiful, dusty, white line.
this lasts.

There are in-betweens
But they know just as little as we do.
Blinded by wanting to belong
While convincing themselves:
The motion makes up for the green.
Poor runners! poor smokers!
Committed to nothing.
These are the saddest of the bunch.

And I like it this way.




The amount of questions I got right on this little practice multiple-choice for my APUSH test today. Not bad, but not good.

Well, today I:
a) fell in love with Walt Whitman's poetry. I'm going through Song of Myself right now, and I just noticed this:
Yes, ladies and gentlemen and animals. Odds are that Walt Whitman accidentally invented the sideways winky face. Or maybe this was just done deliberately since he could've been like "OH SHI- THAT'S A MUTHAFUCKIN' SIDEWAYS SMILEY FACE".

Because Walt Whitman talked like that.

In any case: holy awesome.

b) found out that the Philosophy class I was so excited to take was cancelled. Heart shattered, I had to settle for taking US & World Affairs. I guess people are afraid to think in this day and age.

c) realized that I'm gonna start forcing myself to find shows. I want to try out new material. In cafes, open mics, really small places. We all have to start somewhere. I just hope I don't get stuck that way. Now if I can just muster up the courage to call around.

d) discovered a song from a band called Focus. The song is called Hocus Pocus. By Focus. I see what they did thar. In any case, I like how there's crazy guitar, flute, and yodeling all packed into one song. I listened to some of their other stuff and it's shit, I completely understand why they were a one-hit wonder. But I like this. Enjoy (?)

Tiptoe around, tie him down.



April 18th

Hello my wonderful macrocosms.

Today is April 18th and I'm wearing a birthday hat. Left over from my second cousin's first birthday party which I did not attend.

The room felt crowded. There weren't a lot of people, but it felt packed. Little children sitting quietly in their seats as the amps blared out Wizard Chess. "I say woa-oa-oa-oa! you say:" "___________" By the end of it all, they started getting involved, but most of the show was spent in awkward lack of crowd participation. But Bobina and her friend Monique were there, which made up for it. To me, at least. We played well 85% of the time, and we were a lot louder than we should've been, since we were playing in a bookstore. But whatever. It was a lot of fun for us, and hopefully a good portion of the crowd.

After that, pizza and conversation with a nice group of people. And then Blitz at Bixby's. And then home. And then blog.

Song of the day Konono N°1's Lufuala Ndonga. I've been finding myself listening to African music lately, because of its rhythmic and entrancing properties. Particularly these guys and Janka Nabay.

time for homework kthx



Howl and Nemo Kick-Ass

I've seen two movies today. I'm gonna see one more in about 20 minutes.

I didn't really understand Howl's Moving Castle because I wasn't really paying attention the whole time. Bobina was distracting me with her cuteness. It seemed good though. The animation was very very nice.

Finding Nemo was good as it ever was. Inbetween Nemo and Howl's Moving Castle, we traveled to Market Basket and got mushroom flavored ramen and weird mexican pringles that tasted surprisingly good. omnom.

And now I'm gonna see Kick-Ass, now infamous for its ultra-violence. I love the ultra-violence. I'm Alex DeLarge. NAME DAT MOVIE.

So that's my day. Lots of movie-watching. And goodness.

Have some Ashens, would ya?




people en masse:
feet produce an incessant boom
as they transport the bodies
and wandering minds
towards the single, red exit.

I want to go home, penniless
Predicting the results
dancer, dancer, dancer.
One deserving; a new, good friend.

I could be mad
I am wrong
One day, they...
[The architects
and geniuses
and songstresses
and drone metalists
and jazz guitarists
they will win.
they will have their time in the glowing sun.



That'll be all for today.



A Day of Accomplishments

- recorded a song with Dumbledore's Army. "Save Hermione from the Troll"

- wrote a kinda long and disgustingly gushy letter to Bobina. Sending it tomorrow.

- constructed a new song, feel like I'm getting close to an EP right now.

- took a section of an AP Calc test, got just under half of the questions right. This is good, that means I'd be on track for a decent score on the test, and I can tell that there's room for improvement.

- did almost nothing during school, since we had a half-day.

- I did this:

and this is my song of the day:

c'est tout!






and the transformation was complete.
SONG OF THE DAY Cranberry by the Ruby Suns. A very tropical, Animal Collective sounding song that has a very catchy beginning that's been looping ad infinitum in my head all day.

Today, I had a track meet. Twister in study hall Ran well, personal best 400m: 56.3. Nice sunset. Kids in the back lisnin to their rap musics. Shouting the obscenities, the coaches don't care.



The sounds of boots marching in the snow
Towards a destination that nobody knows
Meld into lapses of consciousness
And disrupt the remnants of a mental flow.

Orange disks pulsate in the blackening night
Each sound vanishes, each thought, each sight
A single tear rolls down a young woman's cheek
Concerned and afraid of the imminent light.

Oh life always sucks, but sleep always comes!
Yeah, life always sucks, but sleep always comes!

Glow-in-the-dark stars illuminate the ceiling sky
As visions of him pass through only to die
In inevitable sleep, we are safe from the harm
That reality slaps in our face, running by.

This was once the beginning/end of Plessy v. Ferguson, but I changed it. I don't want to write about relationships or failed relationships. I don't want to be that guy. So I cut the story I had out of it, leaving just this. Sounds a lot more poetic and a lot...better.
Standing in the doorway, watching the parents show up in the driveway simultaneously. Something keeps me fixed to the spot. Fast approaching maroon Dodge pick-up, and tailing behind, the silver, mouse-like Corolla. I wait in the doorway, smiling. They back in, park their cars. Take a while to get out. My dad hangs his glasses back up on the rearview, my mom checks her hair. Grabs her purse. The sun breaks out of the clouds for an instant, and the wind suspends its breath. Still in the doorway. Finally, they get out of their cars. The moment I was subconsciously waiting for. We're outside, together, a family. For an instant or two, we all remain in our spots. And then, motion. The return to normalcy. The wind, the clouds, the thrice-divided unit. Always busy, always working. Thank god for vacations. Family vacations.




Feels like I ran one. And I played at one today.

This weekend has been all over the place, but it's been a good all-over-the-place. After all of it, I've chilled out and now I'm trying to figure out whether I want (i have $5.90 on iTunes):

a) My Father My King by Mogwai with a couple of other songs
b) Offcell by Pinback
c) More Skin with Milk-Mouth by Giraffes? Giraffes!

I don't get new music very often, so this is a very difficult decision. Decisions. I don't like making them. It's a weakness of mine.

Today was spent with Bobina, mostly. It started with the Snoozers playing a show. That went fine enough, few mess-ups hither and thither, but it always happens. Especially since we weren't very prepared this time around. Happens. There's next year. And then. That's it? Wow!, that's it. End of an era. Unless we stick together in college, that is. There's always that fraction of a chance.

After the show, I came home and then went bowling with Bobina. Two games passed. She beat me in one, I crushed her in the other. Then she ended up destroying me in the arcade. First at skeeball, then in some weird jet-ski racing game. We ended up with 27 tickets and got some micro-top. We both ended up with souvenirs at the end of the day: her with the top and I with my Pocky. I swear to God, she's making me more and more Asian over time.

So yeah. good day. great day. awesome day. day day.



Plessy v. Ferguson

I have a bowl American chop suey in my hands and not a lot of time to write. So I'm gonna keep it brief.

I wrote a song at 2 A.M. last night called "Plessy v. Ferguson". A little predictable, and it's about a break-up, so it's all a little cliche, so I'm gonna do some re-writing probably.

What else, what else.

Oh yes.

Today I woke up at 11:45 AM to find out that I should have been helping out with the half-marathon. I rushed and got my stuff and headed over to the school. A little overwhelmed at first, but then I settled in. I came home and almost immediately after I had a band practice with Dumbledore's Army. We recorded an original, it's sounding pretty good. After about an hour of downtime, I'm here right now and I'm about to head out to Chris' house for a Snoozer's band practice/sleepover. We're playing for the runners of the half marathon.

I'll be more long-winded or whatever tomorrow. For now, I've got to eat and run.



The last 32 hours.

Yesterday. 3:00 PM. I'm helping out with 6th grade homework club, in the 6th grade math room, with a kid named Liam David. Nice, simple kid. Thick southern accent, lazy and sleepy eyes. From time to time, as I read over his essay, he stares at me, mouth agape, with some sort of indescribable admiration at my age. We talk when we aren't working. Already thinking about going to college, where he wants to go. Down south, all my family's gone to college in Georgia. From time to time he uses the words 'crap' and 'suck' to express his maturity.

I peruse his essay. It sounds horribly well-written, like some prodigy had just sat down and wrote a very focused albeit random essay. Out of a hint of suspicion, I ask to see his Social Studies textbook. We walk to the Social Studies room and we bring it back to the math room. Sure enough.

His essay: "The Roman Catholic Church was still the most powerful religious force during the 16th century."

The textbook: "The Roman Catholic Church was still the most powerful religious force during the 16th century."

I realize that the rest of his essay is copied straight from the textbook and panic a little. I flick a glance to Sage, who's working with a girl. She's transcribing the girl's essay. She looks at peace and at calm. Her student knows how to reword things, so she has no problem. I have a problem.

I walk over to the woman running the club.
"Where you goin'?" Liam inquires.
"Just going to ask a question. I'll - I'll be right back."
I start to talk to the director, only to see Liam staring at me again. She asks if I want to move outside, I quickly say yes.

I'm in the hallway with her, and I'm sweating a little bit. I feel the beads forming. I explain that he's plagiarizing, I express my concern of me being liable for helping him plagiarize if not all of it's fixed, and ask what I can do. She responds by saying I should 'guide' him in rewording things, not take it upon myself. That I should warn him that if he plagiarizes, he could get in trouble. I think to myself "This is what the teachers should be doing, not some kid in high school," but return to Liam anyway. I feel his affixed gaze and he's visibly wondering what that was all about.

I tell him that he has to work on taking the main ideas from a passage and create his own opinions and conclusions on things from the text. I start my futile attempt to train him.

He insists time after time that the sentences can't be reworded, and I try to get him to start thinking of putting things in other terms. It ends up with me rewording things for him subconsciously, out of sheer desperation to keep the kid out of trouble. He gets bored and just tells me to print it out. He's tired of trying to think. I'm tired of trying to connect, so I hit 'print'. There were one and a half paragraphs that were reworded by me and the rest remained, untouched and plagiarized.

I walked home after an hour of that Hell. I felt guilty, responsible, defeated at the end of everything. I felt incapable of having any effect on his future, and it felt strangely and sadly symbolic.
Yesterday. 10:00 PM. Finished talking to lady. Four pages in. At this point, you're just writing stream-of-conscious to get this essay done. It's probably shit. Women's rights, Seneca Falls, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Declaration of Sentiments and Resolutions, democratic ideals. You say democratic ideals a little bit too much in this. No time to proofread. Just time to write and print. Three hours into this with no end in sight, like falling through a black void that has some invisible bottom that will be cushioned with pillows and a sense of completeness. Fiiiiiiiinally. 1500 words. An overly thorough essay with not enough facts. But it'll do. Now to read until your eyes burn out. Grapes of Wrath. All your fault.
Sleep at 1:00 AM. Wake up at 5:30 AM.
A dazed and hazy day proceeds, that only comes into clarity when I realize: I don't have my wallet. I don't have my fucking wallet. At a movie theater, about to see an R-rated movie, I look like I'm 15, and I don't have my ID to prove that I'm 17.

I make a frantic call to my mom. On the third ring, she picks up. I explain that Bixby doesn't want to drive all the way home, and that I'm gonna be stranded if I don't get into the movie. Infuriated, she makes the drive up. We hang out in Barnes & Noble in the meantime, I look over some study books for the fast-approaching tests I'm taking, but my mind's preoccupied with guilt. My mom shouldn't do this, but it's her maternal love that gravitates her ever-forward towards the bookstore. Now I fully realize what my track coach said the other day. "She has that sort of typical 'loving mother' aura about her." I feel guilt, not just for making her drive 20 minutes just to give me my wallet, but for being such an ungrateful straight-up asshole to her sometimes, cold and uncaring about her ever-present love. She doesn't deserve the frustration I give her. She deserves a returned favor. And I'm working on providing that from here on out.

She shows up, gives me the wallet after a little lecture, and heads home. I follow the car with my eyes as she rears out of the fire lane, and I am close to tears.

At least Hot Tub Time Machine exceeded my expectations (A+ for being very weird and random), and I got talk to Bobina a little bit more today. Heading down to New York tomorrow, she is. We're meeting up Sunday to do some new and spontaneous things that I haven't told her about. She likes surprises and spontaneity. All she knows about Sunday is that it may or may not involve Finding Nemo.
When all else feels weird and collapsing, she saves me from it. She brightens it. I could say a trillion romantic comments about her until the universe folds in on itself, but they'd feel incomplete. They're not enough to describe how I feel about her. Brightens everything with a smile or a laugh. And I like that she can turn my days from gloomy to happy in an instant like that. And I like her. And I miss her.



Too much going on.

No time to write.




"The Monitor" Review

This is music, my friends. This is music. This is music at its most aggressive and emotional, at its most gripping, at its most sincere. This is the best straightforward ROCK album (although there's a bit of experimentation and ambiance thrown in there) I've heard since I made the decision to download "The Lonesome Crowded West" by Modest Mouse in 8th grade. This is Titus Andronicus' sophomore album, "The Monitor."

I've never heard an album that flows so well in my life, that has such diversity while retaining such a unique and raw sound. The first six or so songs just go one right into the next, using brilliantly executed segues and quotes from prominent American historical figures for transitions. The songs themselves are essentially mini-epics. (except for the full-fledged epic "The Battle of Hampton Falls, and the two brief but powerful punches "Titus Andronicus Forever" and "...And Ever.") These mini-epics go all over the place, not following much of any conventional song structure.

Song structure's the last thing the listener's even thinking about when listening to this, though. It's not the structure of the songs, but what's contained in the very songs themselves. Walls of guitar and drums and bagpipes and god-knows-what-else just come crashing at you while Stickles shouts with his scruffy and fractured voice over it all. At points, it's impossible to absorb. Sure, there ARE quiet moments, but the band for the most part is absolutely relentless. Take one look at all of the people that participated on this album, and the loudness makes sense. There's a lot of people doing a lot of stuff on this.

The things that stood out most to me on this beautiful mess were the lyrics. I could give so many examples, but I'll give my personal favorite, from "The Battle of Hampton Falls":

Solidarity is going to give a lot less than it'll take
Is there a girl at this college who hasn't been raped?
Is there a boy in this town that's not exploding with hate?
Is there a human alive that can look themselves in the face
Without winking, or say what they mean without drinking
Or believe in something without thinking:
"What if somebody doesn't approve?"
Is there a soul on this Earth that isn't afraid to move?

I have nothing more to say, I feel like I've said enough. This is an absolute gem though, a serious accomplishment. If you're a fan of aggressive music, this is going to be one of your favorite albums of all time. If you're not a fan of aggressive music, this probably won't be your thing, despite the moments of rest inbetween. But listen before you knock it.





400 m - 56.6 seconds
800 m - 2:24

This was, in essence, my whole day.
Room for improvement.

Listening to Titus Andronicus' new album through crappy headphones and talking to Bobina. It suffices to say that I'm thoroughly content.

longer post tomorrow.



1700 Meters and School of Seven Bells.

in essence, today was alright. i'm running 1700 meters tomorrow in my first track meet of the season, i downloaded Titus Andronicus' The Monitor and found out about a band called 'Cults' here: http://cults.bandcamp.com.

dissonance and resolve. assonance and then dissonance and then resolve. the jazz improvisation pattern that i'm becoming more and more familiar with. Just letting go, letting your hands take control and go wherever the fuck they want to go. It just happens, and I love it. I've been missing that spontaneity in my piano playing all along. i start getting into it, start kind of drifting into a slumber while my hands are still all over the place. riffs and scales and flourishes and a door opens. mom walks in, tells me to stop. i kind of bang on the piano, but it sounds good by accident. I continue playing, staring at her. Defiance. Silent defiance. She travels upstairs, i bring an abrupt end to the piece, and travel upstairs myself. Frustrated. On the verge of musical epiphany and shot down. Life goes on. There's always tomorrow.




Easter. The day that Jesus turned into a zombie and the Ether Bunny comes and makes people fall asleep, sometimes permanently. I don't believe in a God at the moment, and especially not a Christian one, so this day means almost nothing to me, other than the time spent with the family. And that's what makes this day great. I always love spending time as a family unit, since it's so rare that we're all together. I see my half-siblings maybe five or six times out of the year, so when they show up, it's kind of an event to me. My idols, all grown up. Like me.

Sliced ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, steamed carrots. Red Sox on the TV. Joey showing me The Silversun Pickups. Passive interest, I've heard them before and wasn't really amazed. There's that one song though, 'Growing Old Is Getting Old'. that's a good one. Joey slipped a $15 iTunes card into your Easter card. You ARE getting Titus Andronicus' new album now. Not gonna be able to get the Gonjasufi album though. A couple dollars short. *pure frustration*

New song was finished today. It's short and untitled, but it's good. it's frantic but kind of quiet at the same time. And there's this jazz type thing that I'm working on. I'm working on genres. Not so much layers anymore as different genres and sounds with just a piano and my voice.




On a highway. Interstate 95, due North. 3 columns of white dashes surround me. I remember hearing that each of those dashes is 15 feet long, but they don't seem like it because you're going past them so quickly. Up ahead, an assortment of cars look like they're crawling on a conveyor belt towards some unknown fate. The darkening sky means that headlights start coming on. Scattered red lights in front create a light show. One by one by one by one, they all flicker on. The inevitable.

3 columns fuses to two. In the depths of my brain, a single tear materializes and trickles from the cerebellum down to the medulla oblongata.

2 columns fuses to one. "Today was a good day." A picnic on a hill. Grilled cheese sammichs, crackers, hummus, strawberries, blackberries, grapes, two gigantic chocolate chip cookies. An absolute smorgasbord, practically. The view. Straight ahead's 10 Pound Island. Light blue sky touches dark blue water. Wandering around town. Here's the school, here's that wooden playground I was talking about. Hands intertwined. "Pirates." "Ninjas." An extraordinarily brief and awkward encounter with your friends. Moving on, moving on, moving on. Chocolate ice cream with fudge bits. Two spoons, please. A little smeared on your mom's car we used for the afternoon... whoops? Troll 2 and its infinite plot holes. Day ends before it begins, it feels. 6 hours sounds never-ending, but it's only seconds with you.

One column becomes two yellow lines. This is when you know you're getting close to home. Back into familiar territory. It's a surreal feeling that's both welcome and unwelcome. Up the hill, turn left. Go straight, follow the road into town. Veer left, then turn left, and then bear left again. And you're there.





Percussion Daylight

Jay doesn't have much to say about today, so it's gonna be one of those posts where he just posts videos and leaves. I'm pretty much beyond excited to head down to Massachusetts tomorrow. Hopefully have a full day ahead of me, even though we have not a lot planned. I don't even care. *gushes over her some more*

Here's two songs I'm listening to.

Ta-ta for now.




I'm writing a play for Script Frenzy. It's called Faiblesse. Here's the beginning of it.

Act One, Scene One
(A bell rings. LIGHTS UP on a yard in a Wisconsin high school. School’s just ended, people are standing around. ENTER CHRISTOPHE, carrying a moderately heavy backpack. Visibly an outsider. He paces a little bit.)

Ah. Sweet, fresh air.

(He starts walking over to a group of people, hesitates, and then turns around.)

Homework tonight. Math, English, French. And that report on the Amistad. Shiiiiit. I have to go to Horlitz’s tonight too with everyone. And then paint Easter eggs with Luc... I should work on not overscheduling. To the group he turned away from: But I’m sure YOU guys don’t think I overschedule, do ya?
(One of them hears, gives him a weird look, returns to the clique.)
Bunch of douchebags. People like that only care about two things, their image and their sex life. You have neither. Mais, comme ma famille dit… “C’est. La. Vie.”

(CHRISTOPHE continues mumbling to himself as LIAM enters. LIAM is a lot less outspoken than CHRISTOPHE, but can still barely hold a conversation. He’s wearing a slightly less bulky backpack. You can tell that they‘re close from the get-go.)

Hey, Christophe?

Hey, what?

(Points back into the school.)
That was a dick move you pulled in there.

I wasn’t the one who put the escargot in your locker.
(He grins a mildly sinister grin.)
I just didn’t stop them from doing it.
I don’t care who DID it, but I know you were a part of it. If we’re all friends, why do we always pull shit like this to one another?

Well, first of all, it’s April Fool’s Day, you idiot. Second of all, revenge is fun. You’ll learn that the more you hang out with us. Third of all, are you questioning the integrity of our friendship? I mean, you can’t hate us permanently for this one little stunt, that’d be a complete overreaction. You’ve known Horlitz since 5th grade, for Christ’s sake, and he was the one that put the goddamn snails in your locker in the first place!

Do you always find it necessary to try and prove people wrong?

It’s empowering, you should try it sometime. Besides, you deserved it for walking in during Fitch’s date.

(He heaves a defeated sigh.)
But whatever you say, nothing I say can reverse the stench of dead snail from my locker. (Pause.) You going tonight?

Yeah, but I might be running a little late. I’m biking for a couple hours first.

Biking? Do you EVER go inside?

Only when it’s necessary. I’d much rather be outside than in. It’s more open, and I always feel like I have to be DOING something inside, y’know?

I don’t. I really don’t. Whatever, I’ll see you later. (He EXITS.)

Haha… I’m great. I figured he would have picked up on the snails coming from me, but I guess not. He’s gonna learn quickly to not trust me or anyone. He’ll learn.
(He sits on a bench and starts waiting for someone.)
Where the hell’s Godot? I need a ride home. And I really hope my parents aren’t home so I don’t have to say hi. Not after last night.
(He falls silent, and kind of rubs his left shoulder like it’s injured.)
Not after last night.
(ENTER FITCH AND ROLAND. Both have an air of self-importance despite the fact that nobody likes them. Dressed like preps but anti-preps, these two are filled with contradictions.)