DRL Echobox

i'm the one with the boom.

i'm reading the kerry blogs tonight - the liberals need to stop pussyfooting around, but at the same time, we need to understand that John Kerry gets it - in the way it seems you can tell with Clinton, that he gets it. It's a humanizing factor, but then again, John Kerry's robotic motion reminds me of the few undecideds i've met. "aww, i dunno how i'm gonna vote, probably just for whoever seems to be winning," is the attitude i've witnessed in the field. the most extreme political apathy i've ever seen on the canvas nearly made me cry. undecided? really?

this is a chance to see the two-party struggle in full effect. i believe there should always be a prime number of parties in the running, to avoid factions. probably five serious parties would be best. fringe left / left / fringe center / right / right-wing wackos. give those undecideds a party.

eric's been talking about a communication party, which would be a voice for the underground-- always made of coalitions, just to get the word out into the discourse.

i can't see where he stands on economic policy, but i can see how he fits. wuffie. local wuffie for running a free bookstore. i'm leaving my couch out tonight, car tomorrow.


this is my last night in the partment. next - nowhere really. for sometime, then up in the air, and back to portland. hat's in the drawing room.

the pawrty is about to start. the childern are arriving. jeff locomotes.

"angel show your face" is playing on the lo-fi. my speakers are all packed up, and the laptop is the onlything left.

nick is here. i deftly avoided contact with minors, who stood below my deck, with a well timed telephone call from jeff. now i blog, and remain indoors. debbie and erica should be arriving shortly, and soon enough, jeff.

please allow me to help you.

dreamed last night about putting my hand in this girl's pants, like that's a real significant move or something. and also in the dream i think it was Sam I am who started to do the same thing to me. and there where other moves, too. not like that, more like cartwheels. i dreamed about my one-handed handstands, and felt out of shape, but sure was keeping on doing 'em. i also said soemthing about Ben Caccione's feelings about belly-buttons, without actually thinking about Ben Caccione. and played darts with a girl who reminded me of Jeff's sister but was not. and i talked to Amy on the phone a lot in this dream, which was nice, cause we've not had the time, lately.

making moves

mostly, i've got to take this little apartment i've got and empty it. today i should reach for that goal by putting everything that's going to portland in one corner, and everything that is not in another. i think i'm trepidatious about my "party." shall i try to keep it small? i'm a crazy-man. the party actually shouldn't be too disruptive, as long as i don't get too fucked up. (and why should i?) alls i need to do is get hold of the mom mobile for saturday. somehow. time to plan.

making sitting there

last night contained the unexpected double feature (after I, Robot we got treated to a sneak preview of The Village which was mostly saved by the performance of Bryce Dallas Howard, and the fact that i though William Hurt was Jeff Bridges the whole time.)

i cashed in the free dinner card Miranda gave me for some Cascabel Crusted Tuna. you'd think the "signature dish" at celebrity chef Sam Dickey's restaurant would really be the shit, but not exactly, no. i've never had the Tuna before, despite pushing it like gangbusters. maybe there's a reason they say "anything but the tuna" for training meals. it was a little dry, without much flavor of it's own, even cooked medium-rare. ok, so the cascabel pepper crust was a delight to the mouth, and the fried green tomatoes can't be beat, but the tuna. hrgmph.

you can't begin to conceptualize how much beer we drank last night. the Hole gave the guys a $50 bar tab to dispose of, so we sat in a powwow on the empty stage and drank pitcher upon $5.50 pitcher of the stuff. thanks, Hole in the Wall. miraculously, no hangover. afterward we were sucked into York's invite to the 21st St co-op. lame lame lame it was. after begging us to go, we saw neither hide nor hair of York at all. and there was really nothing to do but get beat at chess by Erica while Will played rush songs on the acoustic guitar. afterwards, Kerby, and then to bed at 6 am.

i'm surfing on sleeplessness and caffeine. the aleve aleviated my headache, but my word part of my brain is a little broken. hanging with the dudes has been nice - it's good to get a little non-austin action, and specifically, PDX action, here before i leave. Greg wanted to know if my housing plans for portland had been vetted by Amy and Lindsay. Cary pointed out that i live in a tree house, "Swiss-spider Anderson". Will did jumping-jacks upstairs while we drank coffee.

we're about to head down to the Hole to check on load in and where to park the (gargantuan) van.

executive.

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/25/magazine/25CUSTODY.html?pagewanted=all&position=

ran into Kit at the Deep Eddy cabaret. she's one of the people from High School i most wished i'd kept in touch with, and it we had a good time catching up. she's been around Austin and is still friends with a lot of the old crew, so i hope i'll get to see some others before i go. for a long time i had a scar from playing thumb war with Callie, who will be back in a week or so. and Kit's also friends with Suzie, who Jeff's still got a crush on after all these years. Kit and I used to wrestle in the parking lot. she also told me that one of my ex-girlfriends is a lesbian now. that makes me feel a lot better about her not wanting to kiss me at that movie in 9th grade.

i was beating Jeff at chess - not usually something i do, although i did win a game the other night - but i lost focus in the end game and let him win.

i only got to talk to Amy for like 7 minutes last night. she seemed worn-out, which makes sense, seeing how busy she's been and now Amanda's in town and i like pictures but there's none of my woman. that's alright cause when we talk all night it's hard to remember everything we say, but i know for sure we talked about Starsky and Hutch and how Lindsay's gonna beat me up. when i get to PDX it'll be nice not to talk at all.

hayden, dan and myself.

i sent two boxes of clothes to pdx yesterday, i have a box of books to follow. the guy at PakMail told me fed ex would deliver to the house, but the post office might not, so i sent 'em fed ex for $3 more. grand total of $65.

lunch today was busy enough that it paid for that. thank god. work was getting old. i came up with a koan: "work is easier when it's hard."

i've been fucking masticated by mosquitoes in the last five minutes. WTF. ah yes, dusk.

speaking of - Tuesday and i got them a decently prominent listing in the paper. still trying to put together an opener.

been reading hps-online.com and apparently i shouldn't be about to eat these hashbrowns and eggs. at least they are free range, right?

ps. my phone should come back on soon.

"What are you really talking about? What do you mean by 'eradicating craving'?" Achaan Chaa looked down and smiled faintly. He picked up the glass of drinking water to his left. Holding it up to us, he spoke in the chirpy Lao dialect that was his native tounge: "You see the goblet? For me, this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, 'Of course.' But when I understand that this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious." Achaan Chaa was not just talking about the glass, of course, nor was he speaking merely of the phenomenal world, the forest monestary, the body, or the inevitability of death. He was speaking to each of us about the self. This self that you take to be so real, he was saying, is already broken.

from Thoughts Without a Thinker

seems like people are falling off that blogwagon. someday maybe i'll be the only one left... (see the teardrop fall)

today i gave buzz a ride home after work. he makes no secret about wanting to fuck me. "c'mon, try it, you're leaving town anyway... why not?" i try not to tease him too bad, but if i was gonna a fuck a guy, it wouldn't be buzz (he's like 40). yet somehow, amidst all the sexual harrasment, he still manages to be one of my favorite people at work. maybe it's the flattery, maybe i'm not that shallow...

saying good bye to austin - spent the afternoon participating in S and Racheal's boredom. somehow i upset S - not sure, i guess she didn't take well to my friendly jabs. her boyfriend is like 100 miles away, and this weighs heavily on her; my woman is quite a bit further, but it doesn't feel like distance to me, only time. maybe it's my age and experience, or maybe it is because Amy's and my relationship has done a lot of its growth under those circumstances, but the distance/time doesn't upset me much, it just seems to be the way things are.

i think one of the things that helps me relate to S is that i can see in her, some of myself at her age. things seemed so much bigger then - in a week the whole world could change, and no one could tell but me. all in all, i'm glad i've stabilized, that i've grown weathered to the storm, so that small dramas don't capture me the way they did. unfortunately, i can be insensitive to the way the people i know are effected by the little things. not that i don't see it but that i don't care. i want to "toughen them up," i guess. but i should not assume that they'll see the humor i put into what i say and do. i guess i don't always make it obvious.

anecdote: i once had a girlfriend who would fish for compliments by complaining that she was fat (actually, i've had a few like that). the complaint goes something like this -in whiny singsong: "i'm faaaaat." i suppose my expected duty was to respond by contradicting her and pointing out her bony wrists or what have you. after a while i got fed up with that game, and instead responded, "yeah, you really are fat, maybe it's time to start exercising." she didn't take well to that at all. perhaps it was mean of me to do, but the meanness came from my expression of fed-up-ness, and not from insulting her figure.

i hope i never tell that story again.

when i was but a little tyke, my dad officed (a verb they didn't much use back then - he had an office) downtown. well, they were gonna build an even bigger skyscraper next door, but when they dug the big hole like they usually do, they discovered Mammoth Bones. Wooly Mammoth Bones, yeah. so i got to use my dad's telescope in the big window of his office for more than just checking out pedestrians on the lunch hour. i got to look at Mammoth bones being dug up. huge. now they are in the natural history museum at U.T.

reason i bring this up is 'cause the size of dig it is. its about the same size as the dig i've got going over there and to the bottom left. yeah. Amazon links. but, I get to pick the books, except for the bottom one, so i guess it's sorta like instead of citing the things i plagerize from i'll just try to sell them.

he looked inside, and found nothing. and lost himself, and god came in. and then it passed, and there he was, he had only lost himself for a moment. but a little was still missing. he'd thought, at the time, "i don't exist" and it had made sense. but now he thought, i've found myself again. but some would be gone forever. could he, with practice, dream his soul away, piece by piece, until he was gone for good? what would it be like, for him, in that state? everything else would be him, and his insides gone. pure being, immediate, unchecked by boundaries between the self and world. without a self, always, impossible? or is it without a world? what is it to lose track of / see through that boundary? saeculi saeculorum.

we just got off the phone, and i feel just great. usually, we'll talk 'till we're through, and then keep on talking, trailing off into ramblings and chatter. but tonight we caught ourselves, and i hung up feeling satisfied and ready to return to the unmediated world. satisfied from the best phone sex i've ever had (yeah) - i didn't know it could be on a par with the real thing. "mindsex, baby, mindsex." but satisfied also from the revealing and dare i say deep conversation we had in the ealier hours. (we only talked for three, can you believe it?) about things like the roots of independence, past loves, and would you want to keep a mongloid baby?

but the best thing you learn in getting close to someone is not the answers they have to those sorts of questions, their feelings on tough topics and thier earliest memories. while those are important parts of her makeup, what's more important is learning how to learn about the one you love. how to be quiet when she has something to say, and how sometimes that something will become something more, if you can hold to your quietness and listen.

and we talked of my tummyache and of her professor, and of girlfriend's girlfriends. and friend's newly regendered boyfriends. and parties and not going to parties and talking instead. and chatter. and shepard tones.

one part i forgot to blog earlier on the production topic. it seems like 90% of the work i've done as a record maker involves getting the band in the room for the session. once that happens, all you have to do is not fuck up. hit record, hope playback works. if they play a keeper, you've got it.

got back from brandon and evan's new housewarming party tonight, saw andy bruno and cozmena. and some monkeys. and a tiki. then to hayden's for the after-party. i was too much fun for the party party. got some attention by singing along with gusto, then rode with sarah to the h-zone. she has a "thing" for hayden.

now i'm eating canned beets and stoufers skillet sensations. i'm still sore from the massage jeff gave me. we're supposed to watch a video tomorrow for lunch. leonard bernstein.

so i've got this book about record producers, its full of interviews and profiles of 500 of the most well-known ones. well, alot of what they talk about is how they go about making records - thier working methods. like Wexler (above) and his live vocals, or Eno on the Hollywoodization process.

I'm just beginning to understand about the record-making process. we learned on the last At Dusk record that the energy you put into making the thing is really reflected in the outcome. we worked fast and hard, and we got back a record which had some of its hardest, rockingest parts in the places where our control didn't reach. vocals we didn't have time to redo, songs that surprised us by ending up totally different from what we started with. intention is almost impossible to pin down in the studio, as far as getting what you mean to get. i've almost given that up, finding that the recordings i make with the least amount of direction as far as qualitative goal end up being the most compelling. the goal is always to get something, anything done, and let the chips fall where they may. picking the good stuff is something you can do later.

another example is Jeff's Perspectives album, where the most compelling song is that way in part because of all the screwed up mastering i did to the track, after tweaking the mix until i was satisfied. "Being There" rocks the hardest because i didn't have time to take all the rock out of it.

so you learn by doing, and by listening to what you've done, and trying to put two and two together. why is this like this? what did we do? not techincally - that part is easy. but all the little things that add up, like having to reload gear every night, or doing vocals in a room with a robotic litterbox. working fast vs. perfectionism.

but i think i've thought more about how things sound than how the way i work effects what they are. recently, i've been trying to get a handle on the all the listening i've done, in part to understand why i hear music so differently than almost everyone i've had the opportunity to compare myself with. so lets see if i can put some of it down.

my favorite thing about sound ('cause that's what it is) is that if it is done right, is can seem like a 2 1/2 minute song lasts an age. this is why i like the oldies station. i think this is the basis for what i think of as psychedelic music, also. how does it work? how does it do it? i think it has something to do with focus.

to do this time-expansion thing, a song really needs a singular focus. this focus can hop from instrument to instrumen - just as long as there's always a lead line - be it a vocal or instrumental melody, a drum riff, or an intersting sound (say, a coin being spun and slowly winding down to a stop.) these things always give your ear a place to go. there can be secondary leads, but they either have to reinforce the main lead, or actually take over for a moment. but really, there's only one focus.

and a million ways to make that focus. usually it is the main melody, but sometimes (especially if the main melody is repetitive) it can be a counterpoint that grabs your attention at the second or third repitition of the song structure. sonically, the main focus has to be interesting enough on its own to hold our attention. a good singer - think of bob marley or bono, or bradley nowell, will slightly change the tone of their voice, even when holding a single note, and your brain juft follows that sound. if it were static, you'd go elsewhere. then maybe a hand-off to another instrument.

--
another thing about records and time. if you get on a vamp, like the end of a doors song, or the main loop of a hip hop song, then what you notice, eventually, is not that groove - although it is supporting your interest by providing energy. you notice the changes. if an organ melody comes in, or the reverb changes, it's almost as though that is the only thing you're hearing at all.

Hugh Murphy says, "The voice is the most important thing. It's all a bunch of chords and people making noise and when you put the voice on all of a sudden it comes into focus, like a Polaroid."

---
attention span: when i first started recording, i would rewind the track, listen, and the second my attention wandered, hit stop. then i'd figure out what i could do at that point to keep my attention. the results were successful, if a little bit dense. but as music you had to listen to when it was on, it worked. it is the kind of stuff that can kill almost any party. ('cause people go quiet when they listen.)

--
by contrast: party/shopping music. this is stuff like joe cocker or moby, or filler tracks on an Eminem album, that you might not even notice is on. certainly it doesn't beg you to listen, but it can be a little more insidious because later you'll be walking home or whatever, and have some line stuck in your head and you don't know where you got it.

i've always thought it would be a huge challenge for me to make this kind of music, because to do so i would have to go against all my instincts. where i'd want to capture attention, i'd have to refrain. where i wanted a change, i'd have to stay the same. i can see myself attempting to take this challenge, but i wonder if learning to think this way would dilute the imperatives i can get myself to heed when i'm arranging songs these days. or would it just expand my vocabulary?

--
another effect music can have on the brain i'm just beginning to explore. its when you have two things happening that don't quite lock-step, like a part in 6 over a part in 5. or polyrhythms. it kindof seems to take that place in my brain that likes to follow the focus of the music, and fragment it into some conflicting pieces. i listen, but don't quite follow. now, when you throw the voice in there, it somehow seems to pull it all back together. i think there are some neat ways this could be used that i haven't quite hit on yet. maybe have two kinda strange parts underneath the vocal lines, but in between lines, they get super-freaky wierd against one another, and the back to normaller again when the next line comes - like call and response, but with that disjointed void feeling of conflicting time signatures instead of a response. could be bleak.

---

right now what i'm drawn anew too, is something i discussed with Amy when she was in town - having the music be one big sound, instead of lots of little sounds a buzzing around. she played me one track which was like that (maybe 3 sounds, but all fucked up crazy weird - which is how i like it) and my brain exploded again. so now it's time for a relavant quote:

"A big part of production is sorting out a lot of stuff that shouldn't be on the record, helping the artist lose stuff that's in their way."
-Andy Wallace

i used to have this idea that what i'd do is get an almost dionysian singer (like the solo bradley nowell stuff - sublime acoustic and then have some kind of magical overdub section that gives the spontaneous, solo rendering of the song all the balls a rock band and 73-piece orchestra can offer. maybe that's what Jerry Wexler is trying to do by cutting vocals live. i wanna do new things, like making the vocal sound like a window into a flock of migratory birds or leaves russling. and the band sound like a busy, busy street corner. maybe a vocoder set to stun?

but before we do to much more thinking, we can listen to jimmy iovine say "With music it's either great or shitty. It's not that complicated."

had a dream in which i inhabited an alternate reality. one where suicide girls were disrupting inspirational seminars in order to try to sleep with me. one where brandon brockmeyer was captain of a troop of clowns (no kidding), and was dressed sort of like that orange lion from spanish-lanugage PBS (that show that used to come on after seseme street.) and then the suicide girl tried to lead me into a meadow for dalliance, but it was through a babes in toyland type portal, and brandon and the clown troops were coming the other way. and they were many (about eight, i'd say). one of them was surely dylan, and i think drew also - don't remember seeing evan, and julie still was there also, dressed in flowing rainbow streamers with her face painted like a cat. but the wierd part was when i was opening the portal door, brandon flipped out like he didn't want people who weren't of this alternate reality to see him in his lion suit. "my god man, what are you doing?"

of course, i blew it with the suicide girl 'cause i started talking to her and it turned out she only want to sleep with me to become famous. so then i talked her out of it, saying that not only was it not likely to make her famous, but that that was a bad reason to be sleeping around anyway. pick something more immediate, you know? this is part of a larger pattern where i dream about girls wanting to fuck me but somehow i put the brakes on. i'm such a tease.

it really was quite a nice meadow for dalliance.

my toes have been sore for a few days now, i think i need to adopt some
new patterns. maybe i'll walk backwards at work. speaking of - i gave
my month's notice to miranda today. my last day will be sunday the 15th
of august. i'd hoped to pick up a bunch of shifts in july, but almost
noone needs anything covered, so i'm just scooting by and glad i don't
have to pay rent come the 1st. grandma's happy with the idea of me
living with her next month while i work and save. and alot i will -
during the first two weeks of august, i'm gonna be working almost every
day. woo hoo!



today i'm finally getting to read the financial planning for
couples book that i scooped up off my mom's floor the other night.
probably the biggest leap i've made, financially, is that in the last
few months i've gone from not planning my finances at all, to sort-of
thinking about them a little. the difference has been extraordinary.
i've probably saved $60 to $100 in overdraft and late fees alone. i
don't particularly enjoy reading self-help literature (although it has
a certain pathos all its own) but i figure once you understand it you
don't really need to go over it again.



it made me feel better when bill clinton admitted his brief
post-collegiate fling with self-help. now i'm un-ashamed to announce
that i've considered it, and composed my Value Circle. (there's even a
nice graph of a circle, with places to write Values, right there in the
book.) values are things like Health, Family, Creativity, &
Learning. you get to pick 5. it can be kinda hard to do, but the point
is that if you don't know what you value, then no matter how well you
plan your finances, you could wake and be 60 with a Porche and not
care. common sense, it seems not a lot of people choose to exercise. i
haven't gotten into chapter 3 yet, so i don't know what i'm gonna do
with my Value Circle. maybe nothing.

Eno on "Hollywoodization -- the process where things are evened out,
rationalized, nicely lit from all sides, carefully balanced, studiously
tested against all known formulas, referred to several committees, and
finally made triumphantly noticeable... It's where deficits of nerve,
verve, and imagination meet surfeits of glitz and gloss."

Things To Consider When Playing with 50 Gallons of Urine:
from: http://50gou.thebrainmachine.com/main.html

* Listen more than you play.
* Constantly communicate and share ideas with others visually and musically.
* Be Modest. Don’t dumb down your musical abilities but don’t show off either.
* Listen carefully for the dynamics of the group – Play at a volume consistent with the rest of the group (we don’t want 50 Gallons of Urine to be quickly carried away into 50 Gallons of DooDoo Loudness)
* Be Confident. If you feel like you screwed up, keep playing until you get yourself back into the flow of things. (As of now, screwing up is undefined as far as 50 Gallons of Urine is concerned)
* Try to end your riffs in key, at least with yourself, and maybe even with others if you can figure it out.
* Do not rush into playing, 50 Gallons of Urine will be started by whichever percussionist feels ready. Instrumentalists will then jump into the music, as they feel comfortable, whether it takes 30 seconds or 30 minutes; listen closely to the music before you come in but don’t be too frightened of taking chances.
* NEVER stop the commencement of 50 Gallons of Urine. It will end naturally at any time, or the engineer will signal that we are running out of tape approximately 10 minutes in advance.
* You may, however, take breaks/leave the room during the commencement of 50 gallons of Urine…just don’t make lots of racket that might get recorded.
* If you see an instrument that isn’t being played, and you know whose it is and that you are allowed to play it, feel free to swap instruments with others. If you don’t have permission to play someone else’s instrument, don’t play it.
* Don’t sing/or talk during commencement unless your assigned 50 Gallons of Urine instrument is your voice (the microphones pick up EVERYTHING. If you need to communicate with someone use body language or whisper in their ear with your hands cupped).

extravagant? undisciplined? it depends on how you look at it, but a boy's gotta have fun sometimes. and i did - with my iced toddy coffee and a canoe (filled beyond capacity.)

the canoe man was pretty cool, i left him my african percussion toy that i brought to the lake, in lieu of ID, but then he chased us down on his bike and said "you can only have 3 in the boat! and i need that id!" so Hull jumped out and took him an ID. after we paddled out of view, he jumped back in.

out in the middle of town lake, the girls smoked cigarettes. i thought about it, twice, but never did. then we drank beer under the bridge (you can stand on the concrete base, out in the lake, when the water is low enough) and it felt like Grease.

it was fun to see Jessica, who i had a hopeless crush on back in December, before she went to China for MTV. my crush is gone but she's still cool. and Erica was looking tan and svelte, which made her a good pair with Hull. she's got a penchant for planning - where to sit for picnicking, how to meet up with Jessica, do we get in the water now? i played devil's advocate and kept making suggestions, to enhance the decision making process. but when we got in the boat, she worried no longer about future plans, and made a great row-partner. with my knee on the canoe floor, and the oar in my hand, i felt indigenous. and i don't regret leaving that shaker with the canoe man.

just thought i'd share that with you and the fact that it looks like the excursion erica and i talked about will turn out to be a big water party! a bunch of kids, including some i've not seen in a long time, should be coming out with us. yahoo.

last night work: medium. came home intending to mostly do nothing (squirrel away my ruples). but then S and racheal wanted to sit on my porch 'cause they were scared of cockroaches (don't ask me). shennanigans: medium. although it was fun hanging out with racheal, who's usually real cynical, but wasn't so much last night.

skyler got the party started by showing her boobs to everyone as spiderhouse, twice!, for a dollar from racheal. if i had boobs, i'm not sure i'd flash them from my porch. but if it wasn't my porch, well maybe i'd be more open to the idea.

erica, her friend paul and i are planning to hit the sun today. it don't seem too hot, so i don't plan on having sunstroke. we'll see. no idea where to go right now. maybe sculpture falls. is barton springs open?

spent all night recording hank. i'm beat now, but it was worth it. also got a take of S singing 'daydream believer'. it's good to be alive.

we're gonna try again some more, get good takes, build up some material. for hank's album. he's got a good song about jesus and vietnam.

work was thrilling. three martinis and an $80 bottle of wine.

my eyes are heavy.

saw for not the first time what might be a telling fashion indicator: a girl wearing one of those tennis skirts that are so in, but who would look cuter in something else. this is different from a girl wearing one of those who is totally helplessly uncute. no, i can tell she'd be cute, if not for the tennis skirt. (did i say that?)

you see, i used to have an obsession, a fascination, with the ladies who would grace my vicinity in those ruffled or pleated short skirts. 'cause those ladies were hott. (the early adopters, it seems, did it 'cause it was cute, not 'cause it was in.)

(tennis skirt + green T) * hair ribbon or bandana = love

but no longer. now it's like, even if you're falling off the ugly tree, and hitting every branch on the way down, one of those branches is gonna stick you in a skirt like that. this state has had my heart going from pitter-patter to pounding in fear on numerous occasions. i believe i am finally immune. now i'll be able to learn how fast the averagely-fashionable girl replaces her wardrobe - by how long these skirts linger in circulation.

oh - but now is the time to buy, ms. deeply-ironic.

from Amy's moblog

also, ya'lls might want to check out the book that grandma's mom wrote: Measure of Permanence

Amy and I are working together to put it online, in serial. so there should be just a little more to read each time. Appalachia in the 30s.

i laugh at myself when i think of the silly things i did in the last 24 hrs. i did a lot of things, so it's actually kinda cool that so few of them were downright silly. but still i laugh when i remember reading about the illuminati, or how did i wake up all sweaty wearing only a button-up shirt?

oh, i remember. i woke myself up by kicking a big cup of water over onto my computer - the one i'm using now. its seems to have had no ill effects, after having all day to dry off.

jackie bouvier married jfk. i saw the pictures. i thought that if one wanted to learn about the classic customs of such a ceremony (who sits where at the reception, what order the groomsmen walk in?), there's not much better place to look than in the heart of jackie kennedy.

but jackie was not a slut.

introspection: i feel like maybe my mind goes in cycles, maybe a few weeks long, or who knows, but in recent weeks - maybe starting about 3 or 4 of them ago, i've been having a hard time getting perspective on what's what in my life. maybe because i don't plan on making austin my home much longer, its hard to feel my goals as viceral things i can do now.

animal kingdom recording seems like a good focus for my energies, but it resists my will, b/c greg and amy are far away in pdx, and busy, very busy.

i'm planning on doing this bill clinton thing. about goals. i got it from the free preview version of him reading his book on audible.com. maybe i'll report back after i'm done.

the urge to "grow up". what i want is to make my career a career. how to do that? i can. i must. the time is now. these are the ways i think. i've also been having doubts about my efficacy lately. maybe because i haven't done much since heights.

ah, the bender. i didn't drink that much, i don't think, well, ok, alot. but not a whole lot. but i smoked a lot. and the combo can make me silly. which used to mean 'happy'. but i guess i mean impulsive and uncontrolled. prone to acting without reason. not that i did anything i regret, so much as that i get into this state, where my actions are unmediated by reason. and that can be fun and creative, but it is also a little unpredictable. and i've been priding myself on my reasonableness lately. (now i'm rambling)

2nd day in a row without going to wheatsville when i should. i made waffles this morning, but after i'd mixed the flour and milk and oil, i found no eggs. so i substituted bananas. they don't stick together like that, but they sure do stick to the waffle iron.

now i wish claire would write some bloggy-blog. or get on the audioblog bandwagon. c'mon, claire.

search result of http://www.google.com/search?q=kill+dick+cheney&sourceid=mozilla-search&start=0&start=0&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8

which is something i would not condone. google lets me search for everything. information is free. so they say.

well, i did it. spent an afternoon and evening on this. don't know what to think yet. had fun.

so we know you can blog from the sandwich shop. now i'm home again, thinking about what to do with myself. the little taste i got of making music over the last week has got me going. i'm thinking maybe, just maybe, i can get some kind of software that will turn this laptop into some kind of recorder. i've got little loops and chords and words floating around my head, without a home. i think its time i pushed them out, like an overdue baby.

the idea of recording using this barely functioning device appeals to me. i suppose there's no reason it shouldn't work, if i can get the driver's working and stuff. maybe i'll have some fun. i've been feeling kinda rusty. fighting against a half-dead laptop sounds like a good way to fight the rust. anyone know any good freeware PC recording software?

will update if i get some progress.

howdy ya'll.

i'm blogging from schlotzky's down here at the bottom of the drag, across from koko's cafe, home of bubble tea.

came down here with hank - he's reported tons of trouble with these computers (the only public ones in the neighborhood) so i'm here first hand. and they suck. i can barely get blogger to work. no gmail.

amy on phone, gonna go.

we spend a signifigant portion of our time doing the same things that we would do anywhere (on a train, in the car, at a Shop, with a Program) but sometimes we also do things that take some doing- like waterswimming, and burger eating with a view.

fireworks are hypnotic. if they lasted longer, we'd all go into alpha. the boom splash of light expands on your retina (upsidedown) and then when your brain unupsidedowns it, that means your brain has expanding lights in it, and so the whole thing gets the audience a little synchronized. i think they should have Eddie Izzard time the fireworks.

there's a certain kind of love that can be made in the park, under the explosions, surrounded by veterans and puppies and other Americans. and sometimes it's nice to make that same love at home when no else one is around. and sometimes it's nice to make more.

i'm here, on the couch, like normal, soaking up internet rays and cigarette fumes from the drunks outside. but in a blessed twist of fate, something is different. amy is here, and i'm sort of sitting on her foot. lounging is almost profound.

last night we threw a dance party, and some people even danced, although noone as much as me and the babe. we shook it like a you-know-what, did the hotstepper, jumped around, and nearly needed a triple bypass before going to kerby with debbie. almost everyone was there. (not kerby, silly, the party)

today plans include driving around in the caddy, and me bartending at 5pm.

much love.

i'm down here at Mojo's hogging Amy's computer while she reads 'bout fudge-packers and whatnot. we've been completing the initial round of publicity for the Animal Kingdom (if you don't know what that is, it's 'cause i haven't told you yet...)

we're gonna plan our record, and maybe growl at each other some more.

and yes, there's gonna be a "mingler" at my apartment on friday night. i've never had a "mingler" on purpose before, as in, told people in advance, but yeah, if you're reading this, you are welcome to come (dressed in outfits - it's an outfit party) WTF? so yeah but i'm afearing the whole thing will go nuclear, as in boom.