Album - Hot Water Music - Caution
I haven't been on this thing all summer. I guess, partially because there has been nothing notably awful or awesome to write about. It has been a summer for the books. A stagnant, boring, overly unproductive clump of 3 months.
The best part of the the summer was in September, when I finally attended a Phillies game, to see Cole Hamels pitch his first complete game ever, and of all things, a shutout. Good times.
So to speed up to date, my back still hurts all day long, I'm still balding at a rapid rate, and my working out/weight loss plan has taken the furthest seat on the back of the bus. Moving forward, or shall I say walking up on a down escalator, everything is nothing, however you can interpret that.
Jerk City has broken up, after several tumultuous months of canceled shows, line-ups changes, and the loss of our van, we have decided to call it quits. This decision was not an easy one to make, but rather I felt it forced upon me. It really is quite discouraging when you put your all, your heart, every ounce that you have into something, and the 4 other people involved are so unmoved, unmotivated, and just plain don't care. Some people will never know the true trials and tribulations that are entailed to run a tight ship without being deemed a Hitler of sorts. You get tons of shows, merch, a van, etc etc, and the response is not "Hey, awesome, great work. I can't wait to get on the road and hang out with my best friends everyday and play music." it is more along the lines of "Dude, I didn't sign up for this. It's more like a 9 to 5 job than it is fun anymore, man." When in hindsight, all these guys did was show up and play. I did all the work. Oh well, so much for dreams.
It's times like these that make me wonder why anyone ever bothers. Some jerk is always going to run by and knock over your sand castle. If that doesn't get you, the inevitable rising tide will one day comes smashing through and wash it away like it was never there to begin with.
Optimistic thoughts from a truly pessimistic mind, folks.
The word of the day is failure. Get used to it.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
red letter day
Album - The Get Up Kids - Something To Write Home About
The above noted record has been the most important collection of perfect songs I have ever been gifted with hearing.
now here is a rough draft of the 5 most important records of my 25 years of being alive
In no particular order
The Get Up Kids - Something To Write Home About
Rancid - ...And Out Come The Wolves
Operation Ivy - Energy
Green Day - 1,039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours
GZA - Liquid Swords
I have had a love affair with Lookout! Records' back catalog for the past 15 years.
here are some other bands that their entire discographys make me love being alive
Lifetime
Kid Dynamite
Descendents
Gorilla Biscuits
Merauder
Bouncing Souls
Screeching Weasel
Buried Alive
Gaslight Anthem
Jawbreaker
If you are not familiar with those bands, please do yourself a favor and go to your local Mom & Pop record store and pick up a record from any of them. All are flawless.
The above noted record has been the most important collection of perfect songs I have ever been gifted with hearing.
now here is a rough draft of the 5 most important records of my 25 years of being alive
In no particular order
The Get Up Kids - Something To Write Home About
Rancid - ...And Out Come The Wolves
Operation Ivy - Energy
Green Day - 1,039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours
GZA - Liquid Swords
I have had a love affair with Lookout! Records' back catalog for the past 15 years.
here are some other bands that their entire discographys make me love being alive
Lifetime
Kid Dynamite
Descendents
Gorilla Biscuits
Merauder
Bouncing Souls
Screeching Weasel
Buried Alive
Gaslight Anthem
Jawbreaker
If you are not familiar with those bands, please do yourself a favor and go to your local Mom & Pop record store and pick up a record from any of them. All are flawless.
Friday, May 8, 2009
for you, ms. yates
Google image search is a hell of a thing to be doing on a Friday night. I am a failure.
Monday, April 27, 2009
young, loud & scotty
Album - The Loved Ones - Build & Burn
Ok. First of all, how about this weather? F. Let me first cite how great it feels to run 4 miles while listening to Fireworks, and then immediately taking an unnecessarily hot shower.
Today has been one of the best days in quite some time. Aside from another morning being awoken by a chest puddle and the feeling that someone handled fried chicken for an extensive amount of time, then proceeded to play Neil Peart drum solos on my face and neck for the entire duration of my slumber. Back to the awesomely fulfilling day that was a Monday of all things.
I first come to find out that karma does, in fact, exist. I enter the office today to a sea of smiles and giggles. At first thought, I was like "great, either my fly is open or I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe, or my bald spot is becoming more of a laughable nature's haircut than something to slyly comb over." To my delight and surprise, none of these things are so. One of my many sought after wishes have been answered. The biggest dick in the office was fired. For sexual harassment. It doesn't get much better than that. I've spent long days sitting in my cubicle, staring at his stupid face, thinking of how I'd love to glue pencils to the bottom of my shoes, dropkick him, and find a speedy exit without even being noticed. This will do, I suppose.
Next, I get home with a burst of motivation, and get moving towards a long needed multitask. I quickly put the new Jerk City demo tracks for the new EP onto my ipod, and head to the treadmill. The end result? Lyrics, vocal patterns and hooks written for 3 songs, and a 4 mile brisk jog. Might I add that during this jog, I get a call from a friend at the Phillies game informing me that not only did they win, but hit 2 grand slams in the bottom of the 9th inning. God bless the Philadelphia Phillies and all their loyal followers.
What a day. It is midnight and I haven't felt this accomplished in months. And, really, what did I do today? Not anything that a normal human being with arms, legs and a functioning brain couldn't handle with ease. This does not leave me deterred in the least bit. I am happy, content and proud of myself. That is something for the first time in as far as I can remember, I can say, and not have my pants burst into flames, or my nose go through a windshield.
One last thought before I eat grilled chicken, and watch The Office until Ambien makes me weird, tired and then comatose. My friend is joining the Coast Guard. I love this man. He's probably one of the most genuine people I have ever met in my life. I think he feels trapped and without resolve towards his future. The twenty-something years are quite scary. The old saying "shit or get off the pot" never has more meaning or reality. You are kind of stuck in this purgatory-esqe state of what to do and where to go. Watching your friends get married, succeed, settle down and get it together doesn't help the anxiety much, but you also cannot be bitter. One of my longtime friends whom I have shared forgetless memories with is getting hitched and I couldn't be happier for him. Back to Dirtwater guarding the coast. I hope this decision finds him well, and I will be behind him 100% if his heart is really in it. I just don't want him to make an impulse decision, and later come to find it was an awful irreversable mistake, and start 69ing his fellow Coast Guarders, so they institute the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and give him a Dishonorable Discharge for trying to give his Sgt. a handy. Whatever. My rant is over.
What does guarding the coast entail? When I think it of it, all I can picture is Baywatch and cammo cargos. Weird. Oh well. Mud, I hope your path finds you success and Jack In The Box or In -N- Out. Go West for bootcamp. You'll thank me when you're knee deep in Animal Style burgers.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Ok. First of all, how about this weather? F. Let me first cite how great it feels to run 4 miles while listening to Fireworks, and then immediately taking an unnecessarily hot shower.
Today has been one of the best days in quite some time. Aside from another morning being awoken by a chest puddle and the feeling that someone handled fried chicken for an extensive amount of time, then proceeded to play Neil Peart drum solos on my face and neck for the entire duration of my slumber. Back to the awesomely fulfilling day that was a Monday of all things.
I first come to find out that karma does, in fact, exist. I enter the office today to a sea of smiles and giggles. At first thought, I was like "great, either my fly is open or I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe, or my bald spot is becoming more of a laughable nature's haircut than something to slyly comb over." To my delight and surprise, none of these things are so. One of my many sought after wishes have been answered. The biggest dick in the office was fired. For sexual harassment. It doesn't get much better than that. I've spent long days sitting in my cubicle, staring at his stupid face, thinking of how I'd love to glue pencils to the bottom of my shoes, dropkick him, and find a speedy exit without even being noticed. This will do, I suppose.
Next, I get home with a burst of motivation, and get moving towards a long needed multitask. I quickly put the new Jerk City demo tracks for the new EP onto my ipod, and head to the treadmill. The end result? Lyrics, vocal patterns and hooks written for 3 songs, and a 4 mile brisk jog. Might I add that during this jog, I get a call from a friend at the Phillies game informing me that not only did they win, but hit 2 grand slams in the bottom of the 9th inning. God bless the Philadelphia Phillies and all their loyal followers.
What a day. It is midnight and I haven't felt this accomplished in months. And, really, what did I do today? Not anything that a normal human being with arms, legs and a functioning brain couldn't handle with ease. This does not leave me deterred in the least bit. I am happy, content and proud of myself. That is something for the first time in as far as I can remember, I can say, and not have my pants burst into flames, or my nose go through a windshield.
One last thought before I eat grilled chicken, and watch The Office until Ambien makes me weird, tired and then comatose. My friend is joining the Coast Guard. I love this man. He's probably one of the most genuine people I have ever met in my life. I think he feels trapped and without resolve towards his future. The twenty-something years are quite scary. The old saying "shit or get off the pot" never has more meaning or reality. You are kind of stuck in this purgatory-esqe state of what to do and where to go. Watching your friends get married, succeed, settle down and get it together doesn't help the anxiety much, but you also cannot be bitter. One of my longtime friends whom I have shared forgetless memories with is getting hitched and I couldn't be happier for him. Back to Dirtwater guarding the coast. I hope this decision finds him well, and I will be behind him 100% if his heart is really in it. I just don't want him to make an impulse decision, and later come to find it was an awful irreversable mistake, and start 69ing his fellow Coast Guarders, so they institute the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and give him a Dishonorable Discharge for trying to give his Sgt. a handy. Whatever. My rant is over.
What does guarding the coast entail? When I think it of it, all I can picture is Baywatch and cammo cargos. Weird. Oh well. Mud, I hope your path finds you success and Jack In The Box or In -N- Out. Go West for bootcamp. You'll thank me when you're knee deep in Animal Style burgers.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Saturday, April 25, 2009
end serenading
Album - Fireworks - All I Have To Offer Is My Own Confusion
I've been having the strangest dreams. Ones that shake me to the core. Some that just flat out don't make any sense. Most, I know, are my subconscious, pushing out my fears, concerns and real feelings on certain situations and areas of my life that I am utterly unhappy with.
Laziness and backward tendencies are finally a thing of the past. At least for now, until another stutter step forces me back to what I know best: non-productivity.
I have been exercising way more, which I actually put off to make an entry here. Regardless, my rotund body will be on the Nordic Track within an half hour. I've been listening to more pop-punk than I would ever like to admit. It makes me feel younger again. It's funny how I always come back to music and feelings going hand in hand. It makes me smile to think of how little I had to worry about 10 years ago, but in the same respect, those little things seemed like the world at the time. Those little things that were so important, and now where are they? It is so intriguing how easily the human brain can adjust to any situation, given no other option.
A friend quoted The Shawshank Redemption to me today. "You either get busy living, or get busy dying." Truer words could never be spoken. Who would've thought Morgan Freeman and his moles would be the one to say it. Off subject, I'm convinced you could drive a Cadillac through one of that man's nostrils with ease. He probably keeps books in them. That's what makes him so wise. Enough about Mr. Freeman. Good quote. Backed hard.
I'm straggling off of what I want to discuss with myself. Does that make sense? Sure it does. I've had quite a bit on my mental plate this afternoon. Beginning the day drenched in sweat on 4 hours of sleep and hungover wasn't the raddest thing I've ever been privy to, but what can I do? Anyway, back to the things that are important to a 15 year old boy. When a girl cheats on you, or breaks up with you, and it hurts so bad at that time, you feel like that pain is never going to go away. You feel dead inside and the situation consumes your every thought. It alters your day to day life. How you get dressed, what CD you put in your walkman, and most importantly, for me at least, what you write your songs about. Look back at it now. How or why did you even give a shit? I wasted paper, creativity, and many smashed personal belongings...for what? A distant memory that just now in hindsight seems like a bad dream or an episode of one of the 500,000 mid 90's sitcoms about teen angst.
Consider me Zack Morris. Insert Kelly Kapowski here.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
I've been having the strangest dreams. Ones that shake me to the core. Some that just flat out don't make any sense. Most, I know, are my subconscious, pushing out my fears, concerns and real feelings on certain situations and areas of my life that I am utterly unhappy with.
Laziness and backward tendencies are finally a thing of the past. At least for now, until another stutter step forces me back to what I know best: non-productivity.
I have been exercising way more, which I actually put off to make an entry here. Regardless, my rotund body will be on the Nordic Track within an half hour. I've been listening to more pop-punk than I would ever like to admit. It makes me feel younger again. It's funny how I always come back to music and feelings going hand in hand. It makes me smile to think of how little I had to worry about 10 years ago, but in the same respect, those little things seemed like the world at the time. Those little things that were so important, and now where are they? It is so intriguing how easily the human brain can adjust to any situation, given no other option.
A friend quoted The Shawshank Redemption to me today. "You either get busy living, or get busy dying." Truer words could never be spoken. Who would've thought Morgan Freeman and his moles would be the one to say it. Off subject, I'm convinced you could drive a Cadillac through one of that man's nostrils with ease. He probably keeps books in them. That's what makes him so wise. Enough about Mr. Freeman. Good quote. Backed hard.
I'm straggling off of what I want to discuss with myself. Does that make sense? Sure it does. I've had quite a bit on my mental plate this afternoon. Beginning the day drenched in sweat on 4 hours of sleep and hungover wasn't the raddest thing I've ever been privy to, but what can I do? Anyway, back to the things that are important to a 15 year old boy. When a girl cheats on you, or breaks up with you, and it hurts so bad at that time, you feel like that pain is never going to go away. You feel dead inside and the situation consumes your every thought. It alters your day to day life. How you get dressed, what CD you put in your walkman, and most importantly, for me at least, what you write your songs about. Look back at it now. How or why did you even give a shit? I wasted paper, creativity, and many smashed personal belongings...for what? A distant memory that just now in hindsight seems like a bad dream or an episode of one of the 500,000 mid 90's sitcoms about teen angst.
Consider me Zack Morris. Insert Kelly Kapowski here.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Friday, April 10, 2009
miles davis & the cool
Album - The Gaslight Anthem - The '59 Sound
Jimmy died one year ago today. Tonight will not be a game of "Remember When," the lowest form of conversation, but a celebration of his life, and the times we shared together. I'm sure no one will say it, but all of our thoughts will be written on our faces, whether it be in smiles or in lost glances and blank stares. Be it what it may, you will be in all of our thoughts tonight as we embrace eachother in your honor.
Not a day will pass that you won't be in my thoughts. Saying I miss you or that I love you is an understatement and a discredit to your memory. I will carry on the only way I know how, and everything I feel and think about you and the times we shared with stay in my heart. You already know what it is, my man. Time to party.
I tip my glass to you, dear friend.
4-10-08
Jimmy died one year ago today. Tonight will not be a game of "Remember When," the lowest form of conversation, but a celebration of his life, and the times we shared together. I'm sure no one will say it, but all of our thoughts will be written on our faces, whether it be in smiles or in lost glances and blank stares. Be it what it may, you will be in all of our thoughts tonight as we embrace eachother in your honor.
Not a day will pass that you won't be in my thoughts. Saying I miss you or that I love you is an understatement and a discredit to your memory. I will carry on the only way I know how, and everything I feel and think about you and the times we shared with stay in my heart. You already know what it is, my man. Time to party.
I tip my glass to you, dear friend.
4-10-08
Thursday, April 9, 2009
journey to the end
Album - Four Year Strong - Rise or Die Trying
Even though I have yet to be much more productive whatsoever, I find myself slowly trudging through this muck of a month much more easily than I thought.
Having said that, man do I love pop punk. Though it may make most of you cringe in disgust and disapproval that my album of the day is Four Year Strong, eat a pile of hot shit. I like it, it makes me want to party, and that's essentially all that matters. Like I have previously noted, it is crazy how a song, or a record can alter your mood or outlook on things in a matter of minutes, nay seconds.
I had a long booze induced conversation with my best friend last night about death. It's hard to avoid the thought and or conversation surrounding the afterlife, if there even is one, when the one year anniversary of a close friend's death is approaching. I will only touch briefly on the subject, but what is death? What is life? What are money and possessions when the only certainty in life is death. Every day to day activity just seems to be a distraction to keep your mind occupied before the inevitable eternal slumber. I for one don't really believe in heaven or hell. When you die, you're dead. So really what's there to be worried about? When you die, that's it. Right? I would imagine it's like shutting a light off. A regression back to the woumb. The only difference is, theres no 9 months, theres nothing. You're just gone, the same way you didn't exist before your parents fucked. Who knows. I am just rambling.
I miss you, Jimmy. If there is a heaven, I hope you're there. I hope everything you ever loved to do is ready and accessable to you whenever you want it. I hope that if there is an afterlife, yours is a constant smile. Also, I hope you can take naps whenever you want. I just imagine that being a huge plus. Whatever the case, there are a lot of people here that will never stop thinking about you, and never stop loving you. Your memory will always be right there. Death is a part of life, I really just wish we had a little more time. You will always be in my heart, and now, on my leg. I love you, Jimmy. Sidenote: My dad said it was gay that I got a guy's name tattooed on my leg. My reply, "Dad, it's for Jimmy. He's dead, not my boyfriend." His answer, "Still weird. You're a faggot." I just thought it was fitting to mention that, because I know that would've made you laugh so hard.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Even though I have yet to be much more productive whatsoever, I find myself slowly trudging through this muck of a month much more easily than I thought.
Having said that, man do I love pop punk. Though it may make most of you cringe in disgust and disapproval that my album of the day is Four Year Strong, eat a pile of hot shit. I like it, it makes me want to party, and that's essentially all that matters. Like I have previously noted, it is crazy how a song, or a record can alter your mood or outlook on things in a matter of minutes, nay seconds.
I had a long booze induced conversation with my best friend last night about death. It's hard to avoid the thought and or conversation surrounding the afterlife, if there even is one, when the one year anniversary of a close friend's death is approaching. I will only touch briefly on the subject, but what is death? What is life? What are money and possessions when the only certainty in life is death. Every day to day activity just seems to be a distraction to keep your mind occupied before the inevitable eternal slumber. I for one don't really believe in heaven or hell. When you die, you're dead. So really what's there to be worried about? When you die, that's it. Right? I would imagine it's like shutting a light off. A regression back to the woumb. The only difference is, theres no 9 months, theres nothing. You're just gone, the same way you didn't exist before your parents fucked. Who knows. I am just rambling.
I miss you, Jimmy. If there is a heaven, I hope you're there. I hope everything you ever loved to do is ready and accessable to you whenever you want it. I hope that if there is an afterlife, yours is a constant smile. Also, I hope you can take naps whenever you want. I just imagine that being a huge plus. Whatever the case, there are a lot of people here that will never stop thinking about you, and never stop loving you. Your memory will always be right there. Death is a part of life, I really just wish we had a little more time. You will always be in my heart, and now, on my leg. I love you, Jimmy. Sidenote: My dad said it was gay that I got a guy's name tattooed on my leg. My reply, "Dad, it's for Jimmy. He's dead, not my boyfriend." His answer, "Still weird. You're a faggot." I just thought it was fitting to mention that, because I know that would've made you laugh so hard.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
answer that and stay fashionable
Album - Chuck Ragan - Feast Or Famine
I didn't expect to use this thing much, but in my insomnia, which never seems to escape me, I find myself yet again with a brain full of unprocessed thoughts that I shall now attempt to unscramble.
This has been one of the, if not the most unproductive day I can note in quite some time. I'm finding that I'm 25, and I still don't have a strong hold on my life, or any of my serious day to day adult responsibilities. I think that 2 years ago, I was more successful, and had more than I've ever had in my entire life. I can also say in full honesty that I was more miserable and practiced self loathing more in one day than I could imagine finding time for in a month, now. I also was a shell of who I actually am, and perfected my facade of a personality more than any amount of time I could imagine dedicating to anything productive, let alone something so counter productive.
On a completely unrelated, less somber note, I am convinced I am full blown addicted to the show Survivorman. Even though I normally don't care for anything having to do with Canada, the Northern toilet, Les Stroud should be the President of the United States. That dude can whale on the harmonica, make a shelter out of a shirt, and turn his urine into Poland Spring water. All I do as of late is watch National Geographic, History Channel, and every single VH1 reality show. I am oddly content with that. My writing and reading have taken a backseat, which is never a good thing. I think I just need a nudge in the right direction, or something exciting to work for.
I am quite possibly the most unmotivated human being on the earth. I should be way fatter than I am.
While I'm spinning so much off topic, let me drain one more thought. I think I am going to try to be on tour this whole summer. I find myself clinging to the few things that make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Touring is at the top of that list. We shall see.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
I didn't expect to use this thing much, but in my insomnia, which never seems to escape me, I find myself yet again with a brain full of unprocessed thoughts that I shall now attempt to unscramble.
This has been one of the, if not the most unproductive day I can note in quite some time. I'm finding that I'm 25, and I still don't have a strong hold on my life, or any of my serious day to day adult responsibilities. I think that 2 years ago, I was more successful, and had more than I've ever had in my entire life. I can also say in full honesty that I was more miserable and practiced self loathing more in one day than I could imagine finding time for in a month, now. I also was a shell of who I actually am, and perfected my facade of a personality more than any amount of time I could imagine dedicating to anything productive, let alone something so counter productive.
On a completely unrelated, less somber note, I am convinced I am full blown addicted to the show Survivorman. Even though I normally don't care for anything having to do with Canada, the Northern toilet, Les Stroud should be the President of the United States. That dude can whale on the harmonica, make a shelter out of a shirt, and turn his urine into Poland Spring water. All I do as of late is watch National Geographic, History Channel, and every single VH1 reality show. I am oddly content with that. My writing and reading have taken a backseat, which is never a good thing. I think I just need a nudge in the right direction, or something exciting to work for.
I am quite possibly the most unmotivated human being on the earth. I should be way fatter than I am.
While I'm spinning so much off topic, let me drain one more thought. I think I am going to try to be on tour this whole summer. I find myself clinging to the few things that make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Touring is at the top of that list. We shall see.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
Sunday, March 29, 2009
something to write home about
Album - Jawbreaker - Dear You
So I'm not quite sure why I created this thing. I'm going to call it an online diary. Because I'm a gay. Tan almost everywhere. Jan almost everywhere. That was for those of you who know who and what I am referencing. I will be ending every entry with "more later, xoxo Danny." That is another inside joke that few of my friends are aware of.
I actually made a Myspace bulletin today about basically nothing, and it was quite theraputic. That prompted me to go on this wild website and create a radtacualr blog of my own.
I am going to further think about the effect of songs and music on my inner dialogue and how it can change a mood or heighten one. Food for thought: why do we listen to derpessing music when we are bummed out about something? At any given time, you can find me sitting on a couch, listening to Owen, drinking a 40 and wallowing in whatever self loathing pity party I am throwing for myself. In hindsight, in the event of a depressing mood, it would make perfect sense to call a few friends, go out for a cocktail, listen to NFG, and engage in the kind of conversation that only you and your closest friends can understand.
Instead, people sit around feeling sorry for themselves. I must admit that I am guilty of that. Moreso than I would like to admit. I am my own enemy. We all are. Whether you would like to come to terms with it, I myself and everyone around create their own environment. You either flourish with the opportunities that are given to you, or you dig a comfortable rut that only you can get yourself out of.
Again, these random sporatic thoughts have no real rhyme or reason, but I'm just typing and typing without any discretion.
Anyway, I have taken my own advice, and I am listening to the new NFG. It started out with Jawbreaker, then went to Get Up Kids, which makes me think of some of the best and worst times in the past 10 years or so, because tguk has been a soundtrack to my misfortunes and some of the best times of my life. I think that the record Something To Write Home About is another completely flawless creation. It makes me happy that I wasn't born deaf, but frustrates me into the thought that I will never create something that will be as important to someone as that record is to me.
I need to shower. I need to eat heathier. I need to exercise more. I need to pay my bills, pay my friends back, and learn a new instrument or go for a ride in a hot air balloon.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
So I'm not quite sure why I created this thing. I'm going to call it an online diary. Because I'm a gay. Tan almost everywhere. Jan almost everywhere. That was for those of you who know who and what I am referencing. I will be ending every entry with "more later, xoxo Danny." That is another inside joke that few of my friends are aware of.
I actually made a Myspace bulletin today about basically nothing, and it was quite theraputic. That prompted me to go on this wild website and create a radtacualr blog of my own.
I am going to further think about the effect of songs and music on my inner dialogue and how it can change a mood or heighten one. Food for thought: why do we listen to derpessing music when we are bummed out about something? At any given time, you can find me sitting on a couch, listening to Owen, drinking a 40 and wallowing in whatever self loathing pity party I am throwing for myself. In hindsight, in the event of a depressing mood, it would make perfect sense to call a few friends, go out for a cocktail, listen to NFG, and engage in the kind of conversation that only you and your closest friends can understand.
Instead, people sit around feeling sorry for themselves. I must admit that I am guilty of that. Moreso than I would like to admit. I am my own enemy. We all are. Whether you would like to come to terms with it, I myself and everyone around create their own environment. You either flourish with the opportunities that are given to you, or you dig a comfortable rut that only you can get yourself out of.
Again, these random sporatic thoughts have no real rhyme or reason, but I'm just typing and typing without any discretion.
Anyway, I have taken my own advice, and I am listening to the new NFG. It started out with Jawbreaker, then went to Get Up Kids, which makes me think of some of the best and worst times in the past 10 years or so, because tguk has been a soundtrack to my misfortunes and some of the best times of my life. I think that the record Something To Write Home About is another completely flawless creation. It makes me happy that I wasn't born deaf, but frustrates me into the thought that I will never create something that will be as important to someone as that record is to me.
I need to shower. I need to eat heathier. I need to exercise more. I need to pay my bills, pay my friends back, and learn a new instrument or go for a ride in a hot air balloon.
More Later,
xoxo
Danny
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