Notes from the Room

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 12:13:49 GMT

I go to check out Lenrakos journal. Crvsr gets ready for her Thursday, the " business show " day.

CBS 880 AM morning radio. I want to hear the forecast but all I have caught so far is everything but,but it is coming up to 8 after the hour -- traffic and weather on the eights.

I have my drive to the DT,up in Somerset.I am going to leave early -- I full expect traffic on 287. It is my least favorite NJ road: consistently congested in various patches, depending on which time you are on the road. Today I expect to be in a patch of congestion. In certain areas it gets quite BQE.

Crvsr gets ready -- I put on my shoes. Radio, sounds of the morning, cars and in our case dogs.Daisy watches, like some sports spectator.

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 13:58:47 GMT

An absolutely wet morning. Wild wind, sheets of rain making patterns and waves across the parking lot. The dog walk was a mercifully brief affair with even Dash knowing a sense of urgency.

Standard morning. Daisy is bored, skampers about wanting me to engage her, Dash sits on the couch. Daisy goes back and forth, to me, to the toy. Both dogs don't eat so much. We have thought that maybe this food is getting to be beat for the pooches.

WNYC, I should shut it off -- I am not interested in information. I am not interested in hearing about the weather, snow for some elsewhere, rain and flooding for others.

I try silence. So now -- the sound of the weather, my typing, even the clock in the bathroom. I write here for I felt an urge to make an entry, as the dogs and I stood outside in the blustery, shitty,beginning to look a lot like Christmas MY ASS -- weather.

I have spoken about Monrovia. Monrovia is a code word for a rather ordinary job I've taken for obvious unspecial reasons. It is a job in a warehouse. I make what one would imagine one makes for a job of this nature. I have a schedule that gives one no "life" but don't care. Today is the second day off from this situation for this week, this period. I have done this kind of work -- engaged in this cycle of "jobbing" for my whole adult life. What are the things that I think about? I have thought lately ((*** as I go from aisle to aisle picking expensive pants, shoes and other apparel, placing them into a tub and moving on ***)) about the sheer number of experiences I have had -- across the board -- this is not just a remembrance of specific jobs.

Tomorrow I go for a drug test for this experience -- no piss in a cup, just a swab. I think about DNA and other things but all in all do not give a shit. I wonder how much to disclose here, and one part of me says, man, in this era or error, of fantastic stories of celebrity failure and or sudden death, does anything matter? This, my Live Journal entry/entries post to Facebook. I have set it up that way, so it is not the "distant" outpost that it once. My Live Journal, this area I carved out to write in back in 2003 when I arrived at the KH. People whom have not seen me in years and know NOTHING of my life - yet have become my friend FB wise, might just come upon this and engage in a bit of fractured incomplete discovery. In the end -- as is evidenced by this entry, I have to write, why else does one write I wonder? I don't write too much about deep, inner feelings. I imagine a typical little girls diary ( the one with that little cute lock on it, the kind one can get at a Hallmark store or wherever that kinda shit is sold ) posted on the school wall every day as she has written it, every one seeing her entries: would she write differently?

I tried to keep a journal once when I was in middle school. I now wish I had and that feeling of once seeing my entries to that brief journal, of personal rediscovery, is mainly why I write this one. I don't know what happened to those pages, I think I rediscovered them while in high school.

So here I am -- I hear Captain Peru, otherwise known by me as "The Sentinel" doing whatever the hell he does Wednesday morning. His main activity in regard to us, to our experience of him, is, during the winter shutting the door to the outside so it locks. He minors in vestibule tidying.

So -- second day off. I express myself here. I am glad on this shit morning I do not have to trek up to where I have to go for this ridiculous DT. How can I be surprised though? LOL I mean -- there have been times in my life I have sweat about the DT. One guy at work told me he thought he might have failed. He mentioned he likes herb. He must be about a bit over 20 YOA. He is the one guy I talk to at Monrovia.

OK -- what I was thinking about during the rain:

I have all these thoughts in my head and they are not judgemental -- I am not kicking myself in the head too badly. I am just marveling, perhaps inappropriately with entirely too much attention on some of the choices I've made.

I primarily think about -- let me get to the fkn point -- about how many jobs I have had. Mind you -- I am an artist/musician and people, usually during whatever job I have had say the same thing: "you are so talented -- wtf are you doing working here?"

I don't know what to say or at least I didn't. Now I might say -- some people are the grasshopper and some are the ant, and some are genetic mutational bastard of both.

Outside of paying creative gigs I have been: a dishwasher, house cleaner, chimney sweep, HVAC monkey, lawn technician, house painter, retail drone many times over, basic foods service person, arts and craft store employee a few times, telephone survey person, construction cleanup, warehouse drone. As I write this I could get very specific but why bother? Retail is sufficient. Whether it is at a mall or a convenience store -- it was what it was what it isn't. Jobs, jobs jobs.... G, RG's guitarist calls them "Joe Jobs."

This job I am careful. I let NONE of my personality out -- I don't talk, I don't draw suspicion to me. Things are different now and my clearheaded nature is apparent at every turn of the aisle. I may have even written words like this before, but those were misrepresentative. I am quietly polite to those I pass in the aisles but I am not chummy with anyone. I know that one musician who I spoke of, I played him some of RG's stuff and he liked it. I played it very matter of factly after he had played me some of his stuff. Like musicians sniffing each others ass, like dogs, the exchange of band material. Standard. One goes into the others car and me - I hope for the best. Oh how it stinks to hear some pure shit. This guy did not curse me with that experience though, he had some very flavorful guitar going on in his experience, with a kind Nick Drakey feel to it without being thiefy -- just so happened his chord choice made it that way.

I could talk/type more about it but it is just after 8 and I want to paint. I have this piece on the wall that requires attention now.

I thought about making a YouTubian documentation about doing it -- but won't do that.

It is a canvas, with an old Sony Trinitron schematic used for repair glued on to the surface. On top of that, one spring or summer day, I spilled ink in a spattered pattern of drops. This morning I am going to be attending to that work in progress. Sometimes things just call to you. It now hangs on the wall by the dining table.

I will take a picture of it when I am through with todays "treatment."

Entries like this feel like "station identification" announcements -- this is MSUN, owned and operated by Minerva industries, broadcasting at a frequency of 342B yadda yadda yadda."

I do not only think about other jobs at work -- for the record. I record vocal ideas for song melodies into my phone and think weird ideas. For example -- I sat in my old-ass van ( the J3A or the Peelie )and as I ate a quiet, cold lunch I looked at the particular configuration of dents and structural surface damage to a fellow employees car. Immediately I thought:

Like those ridiculous Cruise Night situations -- why don't they have for shitzingiggles, a "Piece of Shit Night."

Everyone could bring down their old beater and prizes could be awarded for various categories,such as best use of duct tape, best rust, best taped out broken window, most clutter in car. So yeh -- on to that painting!

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 13:03:19 GMT

For those who have not seen it, whom might only be exposed to some of my creative doings via this Live Journal area, I give you this: The first video for RiotGod. I know I have placed this elsewhere, various places. And though this will be, this note, posted to Facebook, it will be without the embedded video.

We had this footage sitting around forever. It was shot with my small Samsung camera. The first challenge of this was the battery, a small thin number coming with the camera ( discontinued model ) and it would hold only a small charge. For each individual shooting of the band members, it would remain tethered to the cord.

Bob had wanted this to be a blue/gree screen affair, but we lacked proper material. We used utility tarps, sporting wrinkles, all in all, absolutely ineffective for the desired function, but they did cover the small rooms wall at Red Bank Rehearsal.

At first, like an idiot,I thought I will paint in a background, painting it uniform blue. This was a frame by frame affair and my initial optimism was highly poisonous. It ate away time.

So I procrastinated, left the video footage on the backburner, the stove itself placed in storage so to speak.

Eventually I would return to the project. We had footage -- I assured the fellas from the get go: I WILL make this work.

Then for the time that I had After Effects ( before my laptop took a dive ) I thought I would do all these wonderful effects. Nope.

All I have left is my Ulead Media Studio 7.

Thresholding, placing that effect on the sections of video I had divided up into 30 sec portions, created a nice retro look. There was a quite a degree of drawn out preproduction on this -- irrespective of the bailed on "paint the video like a madman" technique. Exporting the effected red and black video snippets though was a quick affair at 30 sec. a pop, so that was good.

And this video sat -- in drydock, forever.

On this Thanksgiving I was looking at another band's video, how simple it was, and this drove me mad,upset with my languid avoidance of our only video to date.

So in 6 hours, I quickly did what I had to,placing the video to the track and readying it for upload. My extensive preproduction did help, all organized into folders.

I had no time code, it was all eyed out and this would prove frustrating... nudging the tracks incrementally and previewing them repeatedly.

I had an idea with the thresholding ( the process that creates only two colors for those not knowing ) that would place all kinds of stuff going on in the background, but as it came together, this made the video look cheap, rather than retro and cool. The song is inspired by the movie "Silent Running" and I had taken elements of that 70's movie and stored them away, clips of Bruce Dern, space shots, other things; I use those clips in some portions of our stage visuals. I did not want any copyright stuff to go down YouTube wise, so that was nixed for this effort.

So now, it is done and I am happy. Nothing else really for me to do while members of Riotgod tour with their other bands.

The next video will be a quicker affair. Now Thursday -- on to the things I have to get to one by one, for Friday through Monday I, for the time being, experience my time in Monrovia, the code for my temp position day job. I don't think about going out, I don't think about anything except -- well in one regard -- my goals, real goals, and two simply getting there to the job, getting home and bit by bit constructing and realizing my new realities.

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 21:00:28 GMT

22:21 I uploaded a YouTube video -- RiotGod - Light of the Sun www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0U5QshPoug&feature=autoshare_twitter #
07:13 Version 1.2 of Riotgod video up at youtube.com/armoredbaby #

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Fri, 27 Nov 2009 21:01:59 GMT

18:30 Happy Thanksgiving. Greetings from myself and B... Thanks to Steve and Mary for a terrific dinner and to the family. Julie Bess swings away. #

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Thu, 26 Nov 2009 10:37:58 GMT

It is early and my eyes and ears are hyper-sensitive, 4:34.

I don't know where to start, various thoughts, usual par I think. My mind is flooded.

Thanksgiving morning. Crvsr has to work today. She lies in bed and I have not taken the dogs yet for a walk. I cannot be certain I really want to be up yet.

I am trying to adhere to a routine,which for me for some uncertain amount of time, will be to get up unconscionably early, owing to a temp job I have taken. I won't get into that now. It has less than admirable hours, but that is that. That is all I can say for that now. Tabeeko the cat is up with me. I thought, well take the dogs out, on a usual morning they would be right up with me, but I left them in the room. I cannot be as quiet as Crvsr can in the morning. Tabeeko stares at me and sits at my feet.

Lately it is as if this cat wants to do nothing but eat. Look -- I cannot play with her now and if I were to, the only "toy" she really has is that wand of shimmery, shiny strands which is and has been out on the balcony. Every toy she has is and will always be consumed and ruined by the dogs. Yes even the shimmery wand toy is suspect. Lately, Tabeeko even tries to play with the glow in the dark dog ball, but god forbid she runs after it and perhaps draws it into her fat belly to attack in that cradled back-paws flurry, the dogs would soon be all over her. Usually I will roll it across the floor and if the dogs are not immediately interested in it she will give it that intense beginning run immediate casual drop off of interest finish, as if acknowledging the dogs with that " Oh -- right -- you guys are still here." cessation of interest.

I am feeling kind of tired,not fully awake and in a limbo. I awoke and Daisy was in some uncomfortable ( for me ) position. Sleeping with her, not so much Dash, but her can be a very uncomfortable affair, as if you are sleeping with a warm bag of sand in your bed. She is unmovable and yet during the night will adjust herself into positions one might only be able to classify, in regard to effect on humans, as "Chiropractor Prep." So -- I am up.

Sometimes I will wake up with ideas, and yet I cannot spring up and get them down: I have this comic-y piece I am working on that at once I know is important to me, yet too, conspicuously exists to me, in full glare as a project that will not garner me, I imagine ever, any cash. Things are all about cash now in some respect but my skewed thinking in that regard, my flawed methodology and execution lends this to be a frustrating affair.

Note: I don't know what the neighbors are doing but it sounds like someone is wrestling furniture somewhere within the confines of this 4 apartment configuration. Who the fuck is that and what the fuck are they doing so damned noisily at 4:52 AM? Is it the mystery guy down to the bottom right who we never see? Is it Sweet? I don't think it is Captain Peru.

I hate feeling tired but not tired. I think I could fall asleep on the couch right here if left to lie in this semi-silence. Sometimes I will get up and simply have ideas in the night -- and must write them down -- this currently feels like one of those situations. It can often happen if I have had more than the recommended amount of sugar or food too late in the evening, which I foolishly did.

Now Courvoisier's alarm is going off. She, as a rule, sets her alarm to go off an hour before she has to really awaken, doing a sleep button dance.

I did not want to wake her up-up this morning. Man -- I hate this feeling a combination -- stop. Normally to lessen this feeling, the one now most certainly identifiable as having eaten too late last evening, I will shower. If I become too noisy or noticably awake, Dash will get up and go off the bed and on the bed, Daisy she will stay in bed as long as possible. You have to tug at Daisy to get her out of the bed.

Thanksgiving 2009.

As Crvsr and I walked last night to go and pick up a bottle of wine ( a Shiraz for todays visitation ) ** ** ** ** sleep button pressed || we mentioned in conversation that this was, for some, a night of the year to go out, no work tomorrow! Let's go out and get hammered! Let's go to some fkn club! I remember there were certain clubs I would go to and become my usual fkd up goonish self on the pre-Thanksgiving night. I have grown to look back on the colossal lost period of my 20's so harshly and with disappointment. It was during that time that the pre-Thanksgiving night would "matter." Usually though, I was never one of those cats that really appreciated the Wednesday for the merit others applied: having the next day off. In my ridiculous experience, most days back then were days off.

Hey! Hey! -- no c*ntish self-centered pity talk -- it was what it was -- let me rocket back to what matters -- oh I think that is Mr. Sweet who is making this early morning racket. WTF are you doing bro!!!! Redoing your fkn kitchen?? That guy keep up a spy's appearance and is rarely seen. It sounds like he is furniture wrestling and I fight from going and banging on the wall -- it is too close to Crsvr's actual wake-up. Just keep calm Mark -- ignore that and the cat's plea for food. ** ** ** ** sleep button meow meow meow.

I am alive and awake Thanksgiving 2009.

I am thankful for my terrific girlfriend and friend Crvsr, without whose understanding and love, I can honestly say would position me in some lesser, unknowledgable place. I never knew life would go down as it has and as it stands I dig the "whatever it is she has - that she has - that I like." She has helped me through some quietly difficult stuff and I am not talking obvious shit, like classic, ridiculous stuff which I won't get into now, I am talking little things and via these little micro-lessons I then become less of a oblivious prick, which enables me to be a better person, for her and in the long run, for everyone I come into contact with.

I am thankful for the family and friends we have, both Crvsr and I don't ** ** ** ** sleep button 5:26 think a list is appropriate, this is not some album liner note, some awards speech. Today, when we drive down to have our meal, after Crvsr is done with work, that aspect will be plain.

I am thankful for knowing that my sister has a good life with her family. I think about my nephews and how little they see of me. I can't even imagine having an uncle like me when I was little. I don't know what "like me" is, but I figure the long hair tattoo aspect will serve most as enough of a "Well...." You know even without those classic "differences" I recall that uncles always led to "indicators" anyway. My father's older brother was always the one with the "handshake." He would grind my small hands knuckles together; he was the one with the moustache, he was the one who lived in Jersey.

Crvsr texts me -- " I am going to get up."

( Oh and I did run downstairs to "see what was up." It was T-Sweet,taking out the bins that "got him situated." He apologized. )

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 21:01:15 GMT

08:55 Good Morning Crvsr ö Lucy in the Sky w/diamonds plays. Dogs sleep, their food barely touched. Fine. #
09:03 Classic rock goes away. Coleman Hawkins steps in. Commercial radio sucks. And too does the anemic, limited NYC interpretation of classc rock #

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Sat, 21 Nov 2009 15:19:25 GMT

I am inking with the antique nib holder, quill whatever you call it, an ancient promotional item for the Clark-Hutchison Shoe Company, New York; brand, Bonnie Lassie shoes.

I am fascinated by this nib holder. I looked up the company and found 2 references to it. One reference is from a New York Times article from 1912, and another was from a publication called the "Boot and Shoe Recorder" from 1921, digitized by Google. Total views before me? Zero.

It is one of those times when you simply think " Where the hell has this little item been, when was it last regularly used?" I mean this seems like the turn of the century version of the bank pen. And after it was deemed useless -- who saved it and why?

I got it at a flea market and first told about it in this journal a few years ago. Lately and in the recent past when I have "inked" I've used archival pens such as Micron and Faber-Castell PITT series.

For this latest, culminative and cumulative work, for a stretch, I have chosen to again use pen and ink. You see, I went to school for this back in the day and fell in love with the process and pen and ink was the ONLY process for some time. I have video of me inking from way back and still have the ruler I used in college, with the same 20 cents of nickels on the back of it

Note I use Scribefire right now -- and this is my first YouTube insert -- very convenient -- lets see if it works in Live Journal -- I guarantee a no-go. (WRONG)

I came here to write about the nib, while a significant portion of bristol recently filled in with ink dries. I have had to relearn the patience and matter of process and have committed errors that during my more familiar days would have been avoided easily, so while this patch of bristol dries I thought lemme see if I can see ANY link to this Bonnie Lassie Shoe, or the Clark Hutchison Company.

Very little found.

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 21:03:04 GMT

23:34 Inking and I mean dip pen, on hot press Bainbridge board is one of my favorite things to do. #

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Thu, 19 Nov 2009 21:01:55 GMT

22:11 Culinerdery TV begins. #
23:06 The Beard! #
13:22 Come check out this t-shirt in my Zazzle store - www.zazzle.com/235627447902097474?rf=238379421929460297 #

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Wed, 18 Nov 2009 21:01:47 GMT

11:28 Dash eats part of Daisy's treat. She ignores her full bowl of food. I make no effort to intervene. Classical music and dishes at 11:30 #
12:43 Riotgod myspace.com/riotgod is soon going to be back in the studio. This is a BTW tweet! #

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Mon, 16 Nov 2009 21:02:25 GMT

16:19 En route to our soire? in Chester... UP THERE #

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Thu, 12 Nov 2009 21:01:00 GMT

22:40 Wow. If you are watching Top Chef -- WTF did Eli just serve up? Wow. Will it beat Robin's wack-ass dish? #

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Wed, 11 Nov 2009 21:00:56 GMT

08:40 News Dishes. Gray Sky. 140 characters seems like Tolstoy this moment #

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Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:00:59 GMT

16:43 Now playing in my universe: Gotan Project Notas Lunatico #
16:47 Now playing in my universe: Gotan Project *Domingo*Lunatico* #

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Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:00:53 GMT

13:25 Feels like Spring here today in NJ USA. Waiting on P1. Cartoon in car with ball point pen. #
14:31 Antenna magazine is nothing more than a ridiculous pseudocatalog. #

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Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:54:14 GMT

As the noises of the coffee maker, and animal food consumption take over, along with the underlying hum of the highway, I type.

Today I am going to see about a P1 category matter.

P1 -- Now what is that you say? Well it is something, but some things, especially now that this is ported to Facebook, I do not write about so straightforwardly. Like notes in prison I would imagine, certain online journal entries must be unless they are well, offline, cryptic.

So many eyes on Facebook, so many people.

It was an easy dog-walk this morning. I have that shit down to a serious routine. Perhaps I am not as quiet as Crvsr would like, but my technique for getting their ( now a bit pilly and worn ) sweaters and harnesses on is easier every day, even with Lazy Daisy's 10% effort. Courvoisier's is different -- for with her they are different. With me there is no horseplay -- no excitement. It is all business. That is the way I like it.

When she walks them and I lay in bed they are quite... shall we say, looser. They jump about, do not sit nearly as still, for they know they are being walked by Mommy.

For me, Dash gets up right away and is nodding his head down to accept the offer of sweater immediately. Then I place down the harness in front of his legs and lift him gently -- quickly like some kind of dog "table." Daisy sits like a lazy piece and I have to guide her to the sweater -- if I move quick enough and am prepapred, the harness should be right after.

My P1 is at 10. So I have to leave in a little while. Post P1 errands to run and some tasks when I get home: Monday morning.

Crvsr is still in bed. She sometimes gets up early -- but for the most part, save for work, Crvsr doesn't get up too early.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:02:51 GMT

14:44 Listens to early Bowie... waits for Crvsr at the train station. #
14:49 Any musician who uses the term tertiary markets... Trivium WTF? #

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Thu, 05 Nov 2009 15:55:17 GMT

Of course I am a Yankee fan, but for some reason, this year, did not get into it very much. Like a baseball switch was tweaked, or just a life switch like a old CB squelch. I saw the games various times and my fervor just was not demonstratively there, like gung-ho setting. Of course I would enthusiastically train in on the games, seeing the ups and downs and rejoiced when something positive happened, but that is how it is/was.

Of course I recall, for inner comparison, when I went to the 96 downtown parade, all packed in with the revelers, watching Boggs and Bernie, Jeter, my being unable to travela city block and settling on my sidestreet vantage point.

Whatever. I mean -- Hooray light. Some muted satisfaction.

I recall listening to the Arizona game on the radio, while I worked at that convenience store and experiencing that low point.

Now I look on Facebook and see all the people freaking out. I was almost called out on my sloth when at the Place -- I saw Sean -- and he asked me " You watching the game tonight?"
years ago -- that would have already been decided, there would be no need to question. I stammered and said, face-savingly, "Sure!"

I didn't watch the game.

Sometimes one just recedes, from one thing, from anything.

And that is all to enter in to the Live Journal today -- I state this specifically, for this is ported out ( sans images I believe ) to Facebook. yes -- I don't think facebook takes the images one might place in and transfers it into what will become a note. Whatever.

I think about art and money and time and music and nothing.

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 15:25:20 GMT

I think about how people react to the overwhelming amount of seemingly inconsequential details about friends and acquaintances lives transmitted over the internet. I think now about how I thought about this -- thought about it as I weighed whether of not it was important to document my interpretations, as I cleaned the litterbox of Tabeeko, a dirty enclosure that was in dire need of attention. I have a particularly thorough method, dumping out the last quarry of crap, straight into a garbage bag, usually if possible the half full kitchen garbage, as I did this morning. then I totally wash the remaining yech from the box, finally Windexing it or cleaning it with Lysol, or Fantastic.

I can recall vividly when I lived at the Key House, which at one time had multiple cats of various ages and hygienic aspects. L would groom the litter, and then merely place in an amount of new litter, leaving the open box ( ours is an enclosure to prevent "snacking" by the dogs ) still rather gray and filthy on the sides, the bottom of it a thick gray-brown layer of clay, packed as hard as that of which the actual house rests on. Once I applied my method to her box, while I was all manic, hopped up on coffee and Vicodin. Cleaned the whole damn thing. You see it was positioned right next to the washing machine, in the "mud room" or laundry area, back entrance, however it is specified by different homeowners.

My main fear was always that when removing clean wash, a sock or pair of underwear might drop into that foulness. The box was always full and Dopey -- the big white cat, would often miss -- not getting his offering directly into the box, dropping various messy, smelly hangers, which was awful.

So this morning, I did a bit of cleaning which in some cases works like some ADD improvisational fuse. Dusty glass table that covers our box, leads to disgust with the box, then vacuuming, table cleaning and whatever, like a tornado that comes, hits certain areas, and subsides.

As I washed out the awfully compact box, having dumped out the crap and clumped urine-soaked masses ( Tabeeko's main concern seems only to be eating and wanted food at all -- ever ) I brought it into the bathroom, to wash it out, which in this case revealed a muddy base of clay I swear you could have molded into a small pot. ( Cue: Scene from the Movie Ghost )

As I scraped away at the moist, not easily removed masses on the side and bottom that no matter how hard they were struck would not move, I eventually filled it with some water and then, there as I scraped and soon stirred the gray water, felt like some idiotic Peruvian gold miner, the illegals, who prospect with water, mustard yellow belted machines and eventually, mercury. That observation -- the prospector, with litter and flimsy shovel.

Inner Voices:
"I should write this down."
"Really?"

And that was that. Now what -- a description of the cool, sunny morning? I just did that -- yippee.

One must know when to cut oneself off too.

On a different note, I wear this hat, this funky kind of winter hat when I walk the dogs early, along with my paint stained pants. Daisy has so stripped the pom-pom from this hat, that it now is no longer a ball, or puff, but looks like the hair of Ernie from Sesame Street. Courvoisier laughed as I exclaimed last night --"Oh no!" I had found the hat on the floor -- I had left it vulnerable and it was attended to secretly by Daisy. I picked up the hat and felt the moist former pom-pom, which now makes ones head look like some episode of Zippy goes to Aspen.

Good morning.

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:02:30 GMT

I want to see a reality show where the TV powers that be, focus on a razor's edge homeless family, placing them into an apartment, to see if they will make it with some assistance, the ultimate Survivor, some combination of Intervention, Wife Swap. Why not a show about pimps and call it Whore Swap.

I am in quite the mood. yesterday I was inexplicably lethargic. I don't know this may be my standard " getter-done" but I know it is fueld by necessity, some residual anger and frustration as well.

I came back from what to most would seem a simple band tour transformed -- that grueling reality, that seemingly simple series of day and traveling of miles just did something to me, some metallurgic feel. I felt very different and still feel very different, picking up my own pieces when I returned.

My laptop that took a dive while out on the road, I "fixed" but must have screwed something up in the Recovery Console, for now a lot of the installed programs act as if I just installed them yesterday, probably botching the software.bak copy delete series of etc. Whatever, it boots and, though the wireless is no longer evident, that poor machine, what was purchased in a manic state when I had that mysterious thing called credit, has long been a horse with a broken leg and while bootable, I know wherei stand with not only that reality, but with my treatment of PCs in general, of COMPUTERS in general. MAC, at long last you are my absolute goal.

I desire a simple set-up. Plenty of RAM and storage, Adobe Suite with After Effects as well -- if it does not come with -- Final Cut Pro and my music software. And that is that.

So -- at once I make changes on a website, tag photos and prepare for my day. Courvoisier got the beginnings of a headache and it still lingers today -- I hope it dissolves by dinnertime :-)

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 13:28:05 GMT

Another non-sunny day. I tend to my laptop. Trying to boot from CD, Recovery Console. Trying to remain calm, really concerned with this, being calm.

This was left in the window from the other day. Still calmer, "fixed" laptop but it is as if it suffered a stroke and now has wireless disability and other quirky deficiencies. Yet -- it boots and this is the machine I need for RiotGod visuals and music creation. Long ago it ceased to be the machine I thought it would be, no justa daily reminder of what mania can do when mixed with credit.

I chat with R. Jaeger sporadically. Courvoisier send me a picture of her, the gals at work with Clarence Clemons -- the Big Man!

8:53 AM and it is relatively dim outside, an overcast morning. I now think about how these Live Journal postings are ported to Facebook as notes. I would never ever open the area and write a note in Facebook.

I get to that point where I exhaust all the morning "checks." Each place becoming more and more static and irrelevent, most likely a direct result of my not caring about such things or caring less.

So -- exclamation point! Nothing new about that -- I have said it before and should edit myself and certainly not say it again. I think about telling what I want to do, or have to get to, but that seems so quarterly report.

Wow.The leaves wave so gently on the trees. The BBC news is on in the kitchen and I cannot bring myself to eat. No cereal, no oatmeal, no egg, no breakfast. Coffee -- yes. 1 and done.

Cleaned out my email box, the main one and stopped subscriptions ( why? why had I not done this before?) I stopped one from FedEx. Does anyone need FedEx updates -- christ! Secondly I stopped any sht from Classmates.com. That site is the most cloying and annoying.

Email: Hey someone signed your guestbook -- wanna see -- pay up!
Fk you!

Most of the people I might have seen on that service I think are now all on Facebook and I guess I never unchecked the update box, christ almighty I had a ton of crap from them going back years -- same sht different days. Delete/Unsubscribe. Later.

Shower and await this mildness the weather report mentioned. Oh yes -- and time to delete Facebook people, people who knew me in my past. My personal account is not my band one so those I care to keep contact with or whom have expressed liking seeing my weirder pics or posts may stay -- but a whole lot deleting is going to go on.

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 20:00:46 GMT

08:11 Good morning. #

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Sat, 17 Oct 2009 13:30:09 GMT

Greetings.

It is Saturday, October 17th. The radio is on in the kitchen, Daisy sits behind me, Dash and Tabeeko do their thing. The sky is again gray and my main noise is the fan of the computer. The pups are walked, coffee has been drank and I responsibly enacted this morning my new policy.

With social networks I now, truly, get in and get out. Before I went away with the band, I ceased the Vampire Wars deal which was at first a curiousity, soon becoming more apparently, for me, a bore. If you have played it you will know, but what was I to do with 456,273,475,586 dollars of blood in the bank -- such a strange antiseptic game. Like coaching a football game from a lounge in Newfoundland, over the phone, with only still photos of generic footbal players. Very weird. Anyway no more apps at all. No Yoville, no quizzes, no nothing. I will use it to share photos and to see other people's images and to now and again chime in with a comment, that is it. Oh -- and Facebook is VERY useful for birthdays I care to lend a salutation for. I am miserable with birthdays and names in RL, terrible. I really need to get a book of dates and names and then resolve to pay attention and as far as people's names, god I need to get better. Like business cards on flash paper into my flaming hand, names just disappear. 3 or 4 tries and I get it. I apologize usually immediately and admire folks who can commit names straght-away. They are my micro-super-heroes. I am so impressed.

This whole week has been a great, spending time with Crvsr -- in regard to my treatment of what it is I usually do, and what I want to get to, is another story.

I nurse my sore left side and try to cough lightly; I took antibiotics to put a dent into whatever the road brought me home with.

This morning I get all the tasks I have had lingering for other people ( website stuff ) fully completed if they have not been done already and look forward to my own list of things which I will not detail for it is so -- so very sky is falling. I can only do those things, not mention them. F that.

The holidays approach. I am reminded when I go to the store or stores with B. Yesterday she got a new pair of Doc's. The store did not sell men's Doc Marten's. All they had were those gay-ass Timberland or semi-sports boots, looking like workplace cross-trainers. It was that or the standard dress shoes in the men's section with a small selection of crappy sneakers, those marshmallowy basketball types or the weird running shoe. I have a pair of running shoes I rarely wear -- for they are white, comfortable, but white. I do not like white sneakers.

Typically, just after I sign off myspace to maintain whatever, some text message alerts me to the fact that some someone wants to be friends. I should shut off that notification as well. I am certain -- I will do that later.

Shower here we go. House House House!

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 20:04:34 GMT

07:53 Seeing Crvsr to her train... off to buy her ticket, off to her Thursday. I wonder about campaign promises and slowly recuperate. #