Con-Blah-Sion

I am emotionally confused, right now. It's for multiple reasons. Granted, some reasons which I shouldn't talk about here could be construed as having more impact. Still, there are other things too. Personal things. Things I should write about. But, you know, won't.

It doesn't help matters that I am not at 100% physically. I think it's some sort of summer cold. I am not laid out on my ass or anything, but I am definitely sluggish and snifflely. I would like to blame allergies. It isn't that though. Comes and goes too frequently at random intervals. No direct causes.

So, Blah. That's what I have.

The Lateness of the Hour

I am listening to Alex Clare right now because I guessed wrong on SongPop.

I play Song Pop on the Facebook. I think it is the only "social" game I play. Plenty of people have their Farmville and their Candy Crush, but not me. I stick to simple song trivia stuff. It is mainly a time killer. I currently on have about 4 regular games going on. I have played hundreds of games at this point with dozens of people, but most people loss interest in such games. I blame ADD. People have no dedication anymore.

I wound up buying the Alex Clare album The Lateness of the Hour a while back. It was one of those random iTunes purchases. I had stored credit and felt like spending it. I happened to be listening to the the song on the radio earlier that day, and it stuck in my head. The song was Too Close (oddly enough playing as I type this).

During one game, I guessed wrong, and Too Close was the correct answer. As penance, I usually watch the video of the song to refresh myself for future reference. I knew he was a white guy. What I didn't know was that the video presents him as someone who would look more comfortable in a folk band. Completely prejudging, I didn't think he was a guy to sing over dub-step. Color me surprised. Still, I think it's a good song. Album isn't too bad either. Maybe not everyone's type of music, but I dig it.

Sunday is usually a weird night. I have probably said this on multiple occasions. Still, it rings true. I always want to do something, so here I am writing about Facebook games and music.

I am trying to un-scuttle my brain. I think I shut off too much of my fictional creativity. I have no usual problems waxing philosophical with some writing, but expect me to add dialog to a character and I freeze. I am trying to figure out a script. I am not even shooting for something lengthy.

An eight page comic story, that's it. That is all I am trying to write. Creativity keeps getting sapped from my body whenever I approach focusing on it. I have maybe 2 pages kind of figured out. You would think this shouldn't be difficult being that I deal with comics on a daily basis. I know and understand the structure, the flow... Hell, I even know most of the formatting issues. I just can't figure out the meat of the story. The reason for people to actually want to get invested in reading it. Having a good beginning and a good end means squat when there is no in-between.

So, here I am at nearly 3 A.M. My mind is nearly wiped from the weekend. I filled it with various movies and reading and games. Now, I have no desires for anything except the anticipation of desire. Crap, I should just sleep. Good night.

RSVP for Nonsense

My brain is fairly fuzzy at the moment. I can't hunker down on one single thought.

That's a lie. I totally can focus on one thought. It is just that that thought hurts a little too much at the moment. I don't know if I want to dwell on it. Apparently sense of loss gets me to type on a keyboard. Good thing no one actually died. Sucks that it's loneliness.

I decided to listen to metal tonight. Not standard metal music. I have to nerd it up a bit. Metalocolypse: The Dethalbum. The first one. I have 3 of them. Songs about how the fish will rise from the water and take over the land. Not nearly as deep (puns!) as a Cthulhu mythos. Oh, and who could forget "Thunderhorse." That song even made it's way into Guitar Hero or Rock Band... one of those play fake instrument games.

Today was a mixed bag. I am not sure what to think of it. There really wasn't anything glaringly great about it. I got my work done. That's about the up-point. Sales were better then average. I got random text messages from people I usually don't get messages from. Good things.

I started carrying a notebook again. This time I actually have some things written in it! I didn't write anything in it today though. Probably why my brain can't focus on a topic to bitch about. That is all this stuff is. A forum to complain about things. Well, whatever gets me to actually write I guess.

Missing Rock Band

I miss Rock Band nights.

There were times when friends needed no excuse to get together. That doesn't happen any more. I would just show up at a friends house and we would go from there. It could be simply playing NHL'94 on a SNES or watching some bootleg copy of Sleepers. Events just happened. They weren't coordinated and planned ahead of time.

That spontaneity doesn't happen anymore. There needs to be reasons to go see friends. Schedules need to be checked and filled in with the appropriate date and time. Sitters need to be found for those with offspring. Work needs to have priority over fun. Someone needs to confer with their spouse to make sure it's all right. Permissions need to be granted.

I don't remember the last time I played Rock Band. I miss it. I don't own it. I gathered all my knowledge and skill in it from playing over friends' places. I like playing it. It calls for some timing skill, but more importantly, fun. You can choose the song you want to play. Show off in front of your friends. Make a fool of yourself. Have fun.

Rock Band was one of those social games that were broken out to enhance a party. It may not be the reason for an event, but it as always a good catalyst for activity. It gave a group of people something to do. There is a social convention of sharing involved too. People like playing, but they like seeing other people enjoying what they are enjoying.

I was never the biggest fan of singing. Yes, I am a giant nerd and sing when I am alone. I have multiple playlists on my computer of songs I could potentially sing in karaoke. That doesn't happen though. I am a coward in that respect. Still, Rock Band has multiple instruments. Don't like singing because of stage-fright? Fine, play the guitar or drums. Take a crack at it. What is the worst you could do? Fail? There really isn't any penalty aside from having the opportunity to try again.

There were points where I got so used to certain songs and their rhythm, that I would throw a little showmanship in the "performance". Jump and dance while playing guitar, twirl the drumsticks while nodding my head to the beat. All good fun.

Things have changed though. I don't play anymore. The opportunity just doesn't appear. Friends have drifted for a variety of reasons: work, family, break-ups, new relationships. Things constantly change. Still, I look forward to doing it again. I look forward to smiles, and laughter. Actual, honest to God, fun. I have seen it before. I would like to see it again. Sooner, rather than later.

Pretend Discourse on the Conflagration of Words

I am bored. It is a Friday night. Rather early Saturday morning. I am in a strange place at the moment. Writing seems like a proper outlet for  clarity. There won't be clarity. Vagueness is what this blog is all about.

I would like to say my mind is in a grey area, but that would be untrue. It is more of a marbled concoction. Like mixing black and white paint in a can before you start swirling. I have an idea where I am, and where I am supposed to be. I just wish those two things could meet, shake hands and get along. I know that is asking for a lot.

So, since this is well before my proper pass out time, I will sit here and type. I turned on some Deadmau5 to give me some sounds. Didn't want the proper burrowing of lyrics to invade my thought patterns. I'd rather settle for beats and pray for some semblance of meaning I can derive from their rhythmic pulsing.

I finished Season 5 of Californication. Got my Hank Moody on all well and proper like. I should really go back to watching X-Files. As much as I liked that show, I never finished it despite the man-crush on Duchovny. It was even the first long term show I collected the entire run of on DVD. Hell, I even seen the movies in the theater. I pretend to be a proper geek.

I want to say I identify with Hank Moody. The only thing I think I can see in him is his greatest asset. At heart, he seems like a decent guy. He just fucks up a lot. I can see that. I just don't allow myself to fuck-up at all. Fear. That is my hindrance. I can not just damn the consequences.

I think it's weird that Deadmau5 went from "Alone With You" to "Secondary Complications". Stop being a jerk, iTunes.

I also watched a comic book creator documentary on Grant Morrison called, "Grant Morrison: Talking With Gods." It was very good. Grant is a strange guy, but an interesting guy to listen to. For all the drug and alien talk, if you pay attention to what he is saying, there is a hidden meaning. He claims to have had shamanistic experiences, and who am I to doubt him. I think everyone can have something like that if they just pay attention to their lives.

Grant has written a torrid amount of work. I have read a good deal of it, but there is always more. When i was younger, I was introduced to his Animal Man stuff. I liked it because of how different it was, but I didn't truly understand it. It's one of those things that I should revisit. I have a ton, almost literally, of stuff to read. My brain craves to be expanded and filled with knowledge. Maybe, if I fill all the cracks in my brain, it will seep to other places and heal those places as well.

Booze Tears

Booze tears. It's what I got.

I had a weird night tonight. On top of my car giving me some trouble, my heart did too. Such is life though. I am surely an emotional being. I have never refuted that fact. I am seven beers deep and two yawns away from actually going to sleep.

I would like to say that tonight was fun. In a way, it really was. I spent some time with some friends I haven't seen in a while. Hell, I even saw the girl that made my heart go all a flutter a couple months ago. Don't worry, nothing else happened. I am too much of a pussy for that. Such is my life.

Fear was my main driving factor tonight. My car, my one true companion, nearly left me. A knocking sound nearly left me stranded many miles from home. The fear and worry pt a strain on my heart. I sat down and tried to watch movies, but failed miserably. They were even the Rifftrax versions. The guys that did MST3K produced audio commentary for various movies to breath new humor into them. I couldn't find the haha's though. Nerves kept my drinking in check and my suave-ness at a far reach.

After a safe trip home, the drinking recommenced. I had no trouble on the way home. I have a strange relation with my car. I want to hold it together through willpower. I actually think that works. It did for tonight at least. I didn't sense any problems. They are probably still there though. I just didn't want to be stranded so many miles from home.

I am not a solo drinker. I am not even that big of a drinker in general. I always say that there are certain nights that I can drink. Funny enough, tonight was one. Seven beers is nothing to scoff at in my opinion. I am not looking to win any competitions. I usually don't even drink alone. I have a weird aversion toward it. So, I am not much of a writer in that regard. Writers are supposed to drink. It's part of the initiation. I still haven't learned the handshake. Guess I need something adequately publish or read to get that far.

Oh well, I should get some sleep. Booze is coursing through my veins. My heart can only take so much. I don't know what I want. There admission is a sign of something, right? I just want to be wanted.

Conscious imagination

I just watched six and a half hours of Californication in a row. Part of my body wants to write, the other part is a headache.

I am fairly awake for it being 3:30AM. Could account for the lack of booze in my system. No downers for me this evening. Well, no downers unless you count the self-inflicted. Granted, I am usually awake at this unholy hour. Most people snuggled asleep somewhere. I sit alone in front of a computer tapping away on a keyboard. Hell, I'm not even listening to anything aside from that tapping. No music, no podcast, no background noise, save for the hum and whir of the window air conditioner two feet behind me.

Life is kind of strange right now. I will fully admit that. Details aren't for this here public forum though. Shit, I don't even know the extent of details anyway. Part of me sees everything as an illusion. Things just don't seem real. Memories float in and out grasping for a solid hold, but they flutter away. I remember as if a dream. Things just don't seem real.

I haven't written anything in a while. These blog things are purely stream of consciousness. I tend not to dwell to much on a format of things. Probably why I lack a coherent structure. Hopefully the next time I have the gumption to post something, it will have more validity and form. As for now, whomever reads this is just going to have to settle for late night word vomit.

Well, that was just a yawn. Time to attempt to pass out now.With luck, my brain won't betray me with thoughts to keep me awake. Let my dreams fuck with me this time. Conscious imagination sometimes gets the better of me.

Pooping by Candlelight

There is something cathartic about pooping by candlelight.

The other night, I had just finished work and was on my way home. The Wednesday after New Years day was the first full day I was back at work. I had previously called out on Monday from a stomach bug that destroyed my insides from the night before. I had never been so dehydrated in my life. Still, after recovering a bit with no upheavals, it was time for work. Thankfully, Tuesday, New Years Day, wasn't a full day for work. The mall allowed for a shorter schedule for whatever reason seemed logical. But, Wednesday, was my first full, double-shift day at work.

Overall, the day and night at work were fine. It wasn't particularly exciting for me. There were people playing games at the store and generally having fun complaining about rules or comics or their day. I remember leaving for the night and it was cold outside. Makes sense it being winter and all. Still, I should have let my car warm up, but decided against it, and made the simple trip home.

Strangely, there were a few cars on the road for being a dead time of night for the suburbs. No one was in front of me, but plenty were behind while I drove the single road I need to make it most of the way to the neighborhood. By the time I got about two-thirds of the way there, I was finally stopped by a red-light. An exceptionally long lasting red-light.

About 50 or so yards ahead, a cop pulled someone over. Lights flashing, no siren, the two cars sat one behind the other on the opposite side of the road. I was the first at the red-light, waiting patiently for it to turn green, listening to Stone Temple Pilots play on the radio.

I waited some more.

And more.

I wasn't going to go through the red-light despite the opposing traffic having their own right of way. Flickering through it's series of scheduled signals, the opposing traffic had no delay in service. The line of cars behind me grew longer and longer. Still, the light was red, and there was a cop not far ahead of me. I wasn't about to start my New Year with a ticket.

Interestingly enough, no one even honked at the inactivity. Some one was eventually frustrated to the point of getting out of line, to make a u-turn at the connecting street. As soon as the they were swinging around, the light finally turned green, and I was on my way.

Finally home, the standard ritual applied, some decompression in the water-closet. There was a problem though. For some reason, the lights and outlets in the hallway and bathroom were out. Earlier in the night, something shorted out and caused them to just cease functioning. It wasn't a breaker because nothing was tripped. We found out later that a socket arced and cause a short.

Still, I sat on the porcelain throne in the dark. A Glade scented candle flickered on the sink. I sat and worried at first that I couldn't even read anything in such poor light. Then I imagined that this must have been close to the founding fathers. I thought I was a powdered wig away from colonialism. It was all very relaxing.

So, if there is one recommendation I could give, take a moment and just poop by candlelight. You may just feel better at the end of the day.