And a new song is born

So, given the title, you'd think this blog would be about a new song...and...you'd be right! However, it is quite different from any song I've started writing before. And, unfortunately for my friend Matt, that does not mean it's a happy song. Sorry, not quite that different.

It's just very bare. And very dissonant. And I'm not sure where it goes. I'm toying right now with the Depeche Mode instrumental idiom of perhaps just letting it repeat and build (think Pimpf, Kaleid, etc.). I'm almost afraid to fuck it up with words. I mean, don't get me wrong, it needs a melody (it's not nearly as compelling as Pimpf), but I'm just not so sure on the what. Anyway...I'm glad for the departure...I always wanted to write like DM (pre Personal Jesus). Please...I stopped writing in high school just because I realized I was writing like Debbie Gibson when I wanted to be DM, PSB, etc. That was a hard one to swallow.

This seems to be a pointless "I'm awake and no one else is and this new song is really bugging me" blog. Well, it is. And I'm going to now get another beer. Yay for beer.

I'm here to prove that it's possible to be just as much a lost soul at 33 as when you get out of school. I'm really good at a lot of things, but not so good at any of them.

And there is your existential rant for the night. I'm going to sign off before I say anything more.

I think, therefore...

If you think you're going to find anything witty here, you might, but it won't be because I'm trying. So if you need that, quickly, move on, before the whole page loads...be quick about it now...

I think Tori gets away with such whacked out lyrics because she's such a compelling songstress. Her melodic lines just drive you to listen.

I think that spiders are our friends. They kill all the other little buggies. Saving our karma in the meanwhile. I mean, if I kill that ant, will I come back as a boll-weevil? I've got so many other shit-ass things to do, I don't need bad ant karma.

I think that winter sucks. I know it's good for the trees and for the annual plants (tulips, you have my everlasting respect), however this short day brick cold weather thing just needs to stop.

I think that I should be happier than I am. Which would just put me at slightly less than morose, but hey that's a start, right?

I think that I know the answer to my question. I just don't know what it is.

Misery loves perpetuity

So, what's the deal with staying up stupid late? You can barely keep your eyes open, the daylight is starting to peek into the windows and yet you just HAVE to finish watching that movie...to which you already know the ending. Really, just what gets into my head sometimes (or doesn't as the case may be).

Interesting reactions to the hair - still haven't decided whether to get it "fixed" by a professional or let the butchering speak for itself. Also considering streaking it with some surreal color, since I don't have to worry about it being pretty anymore. Items for thought.

Guess there's nothing pithy left to say. Better luck next post.

tonight tonight

I just hacked all of my hair off. It used to come down to the middle of my back, but now it just grazes my neck. And no haircut job either. I pulled it all to one side and hacked at that for several minutes. Then I got rid of the rest of the other side when I let it fall over. I think I wanted to cut/damage myself, but I'm not so big on pain/scars. And who do you really call when all of your friends want to believe in your act of being normal, even when you try to tell them you're not? That you begin crying sometimes when you wake up. That what seems so pedantic to them is overwhelming to you. That just because to them you seem to have all this potential doesn't mean that you don't have nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. Who do you call to stop you then?

It wasn't a freeing act. It was vindictive, if there's a word for it, it's vindictive. Although if it's against myself or the world or myself in this world I don't know. If you're bothering to read this, good luck and find a better blog. Because I'm in no mood to be witty.

What annoys me the most is that I know that in the ensuing days I'm going to find some way to brush off the fact that I've butchered my hair to my roommate, friends and acquaintances. What's the point of a plaintive cry for help when you're screaming silently.