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
Friday, April 10, 2009
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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