I'll just say all of the things that you said and Make it seem like I said them first

Collection-I am one week away from a four day work week. You don't give a shit because nobody reads this fucking blog.

Return-Said four day work week will be fucking awesome for my personal well being as well as taking my stress level from that of a three legged wolverine (the animal not the guy who's the best at what he does. If you can't figure that reference out go buy more comics) on a coke binge to that of a mildly annoyed Rhinoceros.

Signal-This will remove approx. $300 from my paycheck every week. However, I'm Dickie Moore, Fuck you. I'm going to try to get them to give me a raise so that that $300 can be closer to something manageable like.....$8.50....or $150.

In closing, this is what ends up on the back of gas receipts and taking up space in my wallet

I don't have a connection to any of this and I don't want to try. Unclear ideas are holes in your shoes no matter what you're walking on. Fortify your fuckin' soul for Christ's sake.
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I can't listen to any more of these new old songs. Think less about how it sounds and more about how it feels; as a matter of fact, just fucking think less. Write new songs yourself, nobody's going to write them for you. Anything that you really need, you're just going to have to get it yourself, be unfamiliar and bold. I am restless. Just like you and you and you. I can get what I need by myself.
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This soft tenor brings me to your lips. You sleep alone while I rise before the birds. You go to the base ship while I wait to find out. I'll be with you in hours, wait for me.
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I am in a coma. I can hear you scream "wake up, wake up !!" but there is nothing I can do because I am in a coma. I miss you.
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Somewhere in the back of your head, somewhere in the dark something terrible is growing. It's midnight and you're alone in the woods.

01.26.12

I have my first band practice in a year and a half next week. I'm playing in a sketchy studio with a drummer I've never met in a style that i like but don't really play in.

I hope it goes well...I need SOMETHNG to do with my free time. I have some music ready that I think will work, now need lyrics...lyrics. I hate lyrics

but if the end of the year is the end of everything, I'll think of something

Hoffa, Hoffa, Where Are You Now?

In the mirror, in the mirror, nothing is different, everything is exaggerated, nothing is the same, everything is different, you look different, you are different, your tattoos make you different, your makeup makes you different, your shoes make you different, your shoes make you different, your shirts are unlike anyone Else's, your shirts are so unique, you bought your shirts from a vintage clothing shop for thirty dollars, the shop bought it for twenty from a different vintage shop, that shop bought it for 88 cents from the army, from the army, this is your salvation, it's here in your different clothes and your different tattoos, this is salvation, here in your ironic jean jacket, salvation, salvation, where are you now?

Surrounded by mothballs, your threads are all gone, now you're just a shell of somebody Else's identity, somebody Else's ironic t shirt, somebody Else's piercing....all of these things are just like the others, all of these things are all the same. Everything just like everything else unlike everything else that's just like anything else but unlike them because we are different from them, we are not the same

The Crest of a New Wave

The songs are the same, the songs are different. The same is not the same even when you weren't there in the first place. When you weren't there in the first place, the first time, the original, when everyone believed, when these things mattered, the feeling was there. Fashion didn't exist (was it there, hiding in the corner?) am I just a part of a trend? Yes. No. Sometimes. Please fill out this questionnaire please, also, answer with your heart and soul(sold?)

I don't want to consider the questions I asked myself while I sang along. I put them in the back of my mind, where I won't think of them again until a couple of hours later. I still believe you, I believe in you, these things mean everything to me. Just funny strange I guess, I'll be along for the ride whereever you go

Irish whiskey loosens my tongue and I would never say these things to you. I'm just insecure and unable to relate to myself right now.

half october

The shadows stretch westbound in Richmond as I'm doing my best to not do my job. I haven't not cared this much in my life.

I'm Inventing Electricity And You Look Like An Asshole

Kamloops, B.C. doesn't welcome me back so much as as it punches me in the mouth and steals my credit card. Same hotel, same room, same view of Mcdonalds and Dairy Queen out the window. I can't see the mountains from my hotel but I can feel them dwarfing me. Not nessicarily calling my name, just blocking my exit and forcing me to turn back. Every time I write I ask a question right about here, today I'll set fire to a forest instead. This is all on the way out and there's nothing I can do about it, everything will be different in early Winter.

My parents grew up with lead paint, plastic in the garbage, tire fires, red meat, off color jokes, smoking doctors, no birth control, lsd, manual labour, corded telephones, black & white television, real butter, church, Russian nuclear threats, married five years ago, beat up by the principal, no sesame oil, creaky stairs, drunk on airplanes, diesel, stick shift, math on paper and Richard Nixon and they're (relatively) fine, how is it that I'm still a child?