Tuesday, July 6, 2010

a drop of blood from a sugarcube

I've been feeling pretty darn lonely these past couple of weeks.

My best friends are in different states, kicking ass at moving on with their lives and making me feel like I live too much in nostalgia and memories. I went to New York to visit one of said friends and he, in short, has his shit together. All of my aforementioned friends don't even have summer roots here anymore, they've been completely transplanted. I have one true friend left in this town and we're on extremely different schedules and we will be going to different schools again come autumn.

I played a show in Pella for a high school band with some people I used to be close with. Not a single person came up to talk to me. When I branched out, the conversation felt forced and no one was really comfortable. Also, that show kinda blew. Like blew chunX.

I work at a job where I can't talk to anyone for 7 straight hours, I can only listen to the deluge of rushing water and the insignificant problems of overstimulated middle school kids. Even if I could talk to the people I work with, I have no connections to any of them. I've extended welcomes to everyone, all of them, but I just get passed off or straight up ignored. When I gave up talking completely, I get treated like the depressed-suicide-watch-case because I read outside before work. I feel completely insignificant.

EDIT: I guess I have a very social locus of identity and that's not good. Friends are important, not every single stranger and half-acquaintance. It's just that it was rejection in rapid succession that it made me question where I was in my life, which is a very important question to ask. It also helped me realize that I need to blaze some new territory. I mean in every realm of my life. I've been meaning to start drawing again. I've already got a project lined up (on that note, if you have a giant wooden [metal, plastic, etc.] disc about my height and are looking to get rid of it, let me know), I'm going to save some money to go to St. Louis and finish recording my album with Brooks (I sent the recording back for one more equalization change, unfortunately, I didn't notice the bass line is pretty covered up but whatever). I started working out, waiting for that day someone says "yeah, you can have this grand piano. If you can carry it outta here hahaha I'm so rich and my nose is so far up my own as I have no appreciation for anything." and I'll be like "stand back, these things," pointing at my massive forearms, "are declared a violation of the Geneva Conventions just for existing."


It's just that I'm living in a loop, unconsciously trying to keep everything constant and manageable while ostensibly trying to live like every second is blazing a bold new future, never compromising truth and/or happiness for comfort. The former is clearly the driving force as I am at my computer writing a blog entry. And yes, that was an indictment towards you, dear readers. Not really though. This is a great forum for half-cocked concepts. I like the idea of pouring your unfiltered ideas into your page because I find it difficult to be the same when I'm by myself and when the world is watching. That's like my definition of bullshit. And with that, here's a comic I printed off that I keep over my desk at school.


  1. Hey man I'm really sorry I couldn't make it to that show. Work has a nasty way of interfering with my life. I don't think I've ever actually seen you live before [haha]. I don't know how to not-awkwardly insert a "haha" into writing. We should call up good ol' Michael DeJoode and go to Wal-Mart in the dead of night sometime. Also, I like your About Me section. Stream of consciousness rules.

  2. das ok, hommies. you're both awesome. I'm playing a completely lame backyard show in Ottumwa on Saturday and Tony Rocky Horror and I are going to cover "Shit Luck" by Modest Mouse and I'm really excited. also, I'll have a drummer for this one. We definitely should go to Wal-Mart with DJ. I haven't owned rollerblades since middle school but I'll bike.