Ambivilant Feelings

I find myself, more often than not, gushing a torrential outpouring of words. My thought process exists in complete sentences, so much so, that when I dream, I can not only read, but write as well. For me to admit that a topic is hard to talk about, is to say a lot.

Recently, I have been giving up hope on the written word. On communicating at all, really. I used to store so much on my communication abilities, of being able to explain anything, to persuade any view point, to talk to any person, that I naively thought only time would heal all wounds.

This isn’t really a blog to say that I’ve completely returned to the land of optimism. No, not when so many people pervert language and meaning. This is more of a check in blog, a blog to say that I’m still here, still having a good life, even if I don’t communicate as much.

My wife is the most important person in my life. She, more than anyone else, has taught me the importance of the quiet moment — the moments we share without talking, without interacting, sharing the same space, the same activity, the same energy.

Inside of this quietness, I’ve actually found a little bit more understand. I’ve found out that I’m an arrogant, pig-head asshole, but I’m working to change that. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written lately. The internet, more so than a regular journal, captures all of my indolence and arrogance. My post from over a year ago strike me as childish: the rants of a person I remember, but maybe not so well anymore. No so eagerly do I fight for causes. Not so blindly do I stick to viewpoints. I still have them, but I’m more likely to ridicule them than push them on others.

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Recently, the band has been doing some really incredible stuff. My impatience makes me think I’m running in place, when those around me are amazed at how fast it is going. In my own personal mythology, I was supposed to have been famous by 18, to have been dead by 26. At the age of 26 now, I am famous to my friends and family and that’s good enough. What I realized that I actually wanted, was to entertain. That’s what all the push for fame was about, to ensure a crowd every time I ascend the stage.

I claim that I want to pay rent by playing music, or writing, or whatever, but that’s because the stresses and dangers of the road, the starvation of the artist, the cravings for the spotlight, the breaking of my humility, the moment of illumination in the crowd’s collective face as we finally recognize the humanity in each other.

Walking Corpse Syndrome, the band I’m currently in, is turning a corner. We are having our CD release party this Sat. One in Deer Lodge and one in Missoula. I’ve contacted the papers and think that they might be doing a story on the band. More than anything, without even knowing what they’ll write, I feel gratitude. Metal is definitely a hard sell, and for them to return my pesterings, well, I feel very very grateful.

I’m no longer that kid that expected fame to be handed to me on a platter. I’m grateful for that, too. He was sort of a puke.

Random stuff and what not

I’ve been meaning to write a lot of posts lately, but I just haven’t gotten around to it.

I’ve been meaning to write about homeless people–specifically the scavengers of society. A couple weeks ago my wife and I saw a dude really sorting out the garbage, looking for stuff to recycle. Now, I know this a white person thing to think, but I couldn’t help feel proud that i was doing something. Here was this person making choices to support himself by digging through trash for recyclables. Not only was he weening trash from hitting the landfill, he was working for a living. Much better than drunkenly asking for change on the street. He was self sufficient (or at least to my deluded mind). We did, however, decide to shred every piece of paper before tossing it.

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I’ve also been meaning to write a post about the band. I feel I can write here, rather than on the website, since the website should be reserved for more official matters. We’re looking at booking for the studio for mid-March. We have the final round of the battle-of-the-bands on March 6th. Apparently, the winner gets $1000 cash, recording time, fliers, and a clothes certificate.

As all the other bands have observed either in their websites or in person: the metal/heavy bands made it to the finals more than likely on the sole strength of having the same set of metalheads voting our scene in. While this is awesome, as we will actually get paid for playing a show, our group of metalheads are not big enough to vote one band to win.

The competitive part of me really wants to win this shin-dig, just like I’ve wanted to win every game or contest I’ve entered. The other part of me realizes that if one metal band wins, the potential for scene jealously and fracture is an all-too-real possibility.

I suppose the best way to look at this would be that the metal scene is getting strong enough to vote our own into the finals of the contest. We’ll use this platform to try to expand the scene, maybe hook some people in that wouldn’t have ordinarily seen us.

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My mom’s kidney’s are failing/have failed. Basically they don’t work well enough anymore. Though I’ve known about this for a while, I have yet to write a permanent post about it. My mom, who reads this blog, wonders why. I guess I don’t know. It’s sort of a hard thing to write about. Writing is a means by which I can organize and elucidate my thoughts. My thoughts on this are relatively blank, as if the reality hasn’t sunk in or perhaps sunk in a while ago.

My mother, more than most people in my life, has always taught me to be self-sufficient. I learned how to cook and prepare food at about ages 6 or 7, to do laundry at 10, to get myself to school starting in the 1st grade. Her fear was that she wouldn’t be around forever.

I don’t believe in such a thing as an idealized childhood. To try to insulate a child from the hardships in this world delays any mechanisms to cope with hardships later on. My parents raised me how they thought best, and since I’m not a complete fuck up, I think they did a pretty good job.

They don’t know why her kidneys are failing. I’ve had lots of armchair doctors tell me to tell her what to do, whether it’s change her diet, exercise more, blah blah blah. They usually quit asking me about after I snap at them and ask how many years of med school they went through to diagnose a patient without even examining her.

I guess that I have fear too. Since they don’t know what caused it, the thing could genetic. Her siblings haven’t gotten it yet, but that doesn’t mean much since she’s the oldest. Maybe I could get it. I guess that’s what all fear comes down to, right? This could happen to me.

Me and the wife will be heading down to Denver when she gets her transplant to help take care of her and make sure she gets her medicine.

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I guess that’s really all for now.

What’s this birthday thing?

So another year has come and gone. I’ve actually written this blog for longer than I ever thought I would. It sure as hell hasn’t been consistent. I’ve stopped writing about political stuff for the most part. I guess it frustrates me to the point that I don’t really give two shits about it. I also used to try not to cuss in my blog. I guess I don’t give three shits about that.

Maybe people say that cursing is a sign of stupidity, a lack of vocabulary. I would have to agree. I am both stupid and have a small vocabulary.

Though this last year has been marked with some trepidation, it has been on the whole a good year. My old band dissolved and got mixed into the solution of my new band. We’ve had a monster response so far. We’re saving up money and should be able to hit the studio in a few months.

I also finished my book. I had sent it off to some friends. One friend could not get past a graphic scene in the third chapter and refuses to answer any of my calls. A second friend read it once, thought it was great, wanted to read it again, but it depressed her even more the second time. The third friend I never really expected to read it, besides he’s in grad school and waaaay busy with too much stuff. Anyhoo, second friend is sending the book back. I’ll maybe tone it down a bit and send it off see anyone can stiffle their gag reflex long enough to reject it. Or not.

I started going really bald, so I preempted all and started shaving my head. I’ve been getting back into metal and industrial and away from hip hop and whatnot.

I’m not sure what else is happening, but I’ll keep me posted as I see fit.

Urban Blight

On West Broadway, an old building is about to be demolished. Originally it housed the Missoula City Water Works, or something like that. Covered in ivy and spray paint, the windows broken out, this building will be replaced by a Safeway or St. Patricks. Or perhaps it escaped its death sentence and I haven’t heard about it yet. Regardless, the sheds by it have been taken down. Even the parking lot across the street has vomited great chunks of asphalt.

I originally had a dream to buy that building. I would turn the offices into dorm rooms, and the large garage into a gallary/concert hall. Downstairs would be rented practice spaces. We’d have a communal kitchen, communal bathrooms, communal everything really. Anything to keep rent cheap and make it easier for the progressive art community to thrive in this gentrified city.

A lot of metal/progressive musicians in this town harbor dreams of some sort of concert venue. Some all ages place where the owner actually makes their money from the crowd and not the band. None of this band having to pay for security or sound or alcohol deposits. Just a place where the people can come and rock out without fear of retribution. I’ve only been to a few such clubs in my life.

It’s not that I mind progress that much. I love watching new construction. I adore skyscrapers and am thrilled with the tall buildings going up over town. When a city becomes dense enough, the added cost of driving can encourage more people to use public transportation. I personally live close enough to work to walk, but I would enjoy being able to take a bus when and where I want. Unfortunately, our buses don’t really run the times that I need them the most (i.e. at night and on the weekends).

I do mind progress when it happens to me. Recently our apartment building was sold. We were corralled into a new lease before notified that we will suffer construction all winter. They’re not really fixing anything, just added that colored metal siding to make the building look good. What slumlord would buy a building just to make it look more better on the outside? You would want a return on your investment, not just a continuation of the status quo.

My building, I realized, is being converted into condos. The whole city is being converted into condos. And in this rush to make money, these scum suckers are buying up most of Missoula and converting our apartments into condos. Why would anybody rent when they can buy? I’ll tell you why: because right now, buying costs way more than renting. Yes, I realize that’s the reason you’re converting my apartment into a condo, but I hope to Invisible Deity that this town explodes with condos and then suffers such a horrible slump that all these assholes lose their money. Not only lose their money, but lose their homes, cars, and all else and are forced to find a place to live in this overpriced market.

A city needs some kind of Urban Blight, or at least some section of town where the refuse can live. The North and West side are all but gentrified now. East Missoula has had a building boom. Even the Roosevelt area is getting fancy new housing. What’s the point of increasing the value of this property if it forces out the bottom tier from the city? And honestly where are we going to go? Further and further outside of the city, where the cost of gas will defray any savings in rent.

So, my generation is the one pushing to live closer to the city center. My reasons include being able to walk to work. Originally, it included the cheaper rent, but not so much anymore.

One of the workers, when asked by my wife, admitted that our apartments are being made into condos. This was after they cut down all the trees. I don’t know if I want to demand to be let out of the lease, to call fraud so that I can look for another place to live (some place where Lambros is not my slumlord), but I don’t think that I want to. I honestly just want to set up house someplace that I can call my own. Eventually it will be someplace where I can sound proof a room and have band practice. But that day is a long way off.

Mr. Smith Goes to Billings

My wife and I just went to Billings to visit my family, in particular my brother who was also in town. It was the first time in a couple of years that the whole famn damily was gathered in one place and it went off fairly smooth imho.

Though I won’t get much into detail about the trip, especially family specifics since I don’t like to publish all my secrets for free, I did want to share some random thoughts about the trip.

#1) Billings is getting spruced up. I remember growing up on Russell Street two blocks off of Broadwater Ave. The streets surrounding our house were decrepit at best. Pot holes plagued the streets, but that never seemed to stop my brother from driving full bore at angles to miss the worst of the damage.

The streets seem to be a lot better in the city. Maybe I came at the right time of the year, but it suddenly struck me how pleasant it is to drive in Billings (especially when you know how to get around). People’s yards look nice. Almost too nice. I wonder how many Billingites are actually concerned about the possible ecological damage that those lush lawns pose. In Western Montana, we’re looking at an aquifer that might be drained within my lifetime. Though, it is nice to have some shade in that blistering sun. Coming back to Missoula was a shock. Partly because it was rainy, and partly because we barely noticed it was rainy.

#2) Billings is still growing at a clip. Yet, it is still affordable. Sort of. Sure, it has the half a million and million dollar houses, but my cousins managed to buy a house for less than a hundo-thousand! That category does not exist in Missoula. It doesn’t matter what part of town you live in, how bad the house is. Nothing. Those houses do not exist over here.

#3) Eastern Montana thunderstorms are still cool. Our last full day in Billings ended with a barbeque. Rain threatened the entire day. I would go stand outside to watch the impending clouds, seeing and smelling the rain, knowing that it was on its way. In Missoula, if you can see the storm, you’re about to get wet. With valley living comes the inevitable fact that the weather has no place to go except for the valley. In Billings, though, the storm seemed to split up. Half of the storm went north while the other half went south. We were spared and the barby was a success!

#4) Our “new” car (an 89 Camry) gets great mileage. On the way down we got an average of 33.5 mpg even with some random in town driving whenever we felt like stopping. We got this in part because we actually drove 75 mph instead of my usual 80. Plus we weren’t blasting heat (like during our last trip in the winter) or AC. What a difference that 5 mph made! I tried going a little bit slower when possible, but 334 miles is a long drive to take real slow. Trust me. I know. And not because I remember when the speed limit was 55 on the highway (which I do, though I was too young to drive it), but because I had a van that could only go 55. Eight hours is far too long of a drive between Missoula and Billings.

The thing was, even at 75 we were passing people. It used to be that I went 80 to 85 and lots of people passed me. I saw truckers pass more cars then I’d ever seen before. It made me think that perhaps other people are trying the same tactic: driving slow to save fuel and money.

I read in USA Today that people are actually on average driving less than they were. I’d believe that. We already drive less and only keep a car because it is a bit cheaper than taking taxis or buses to all of our hard to reach places (my band practices outside of Missoula).

I’m still working on ending, so I’ll just abruptly say this: Johnny Cash, 50 Cent, Ludicris, Britney Spear’s bald head.

Pickle-gate

Ok. So far, I hadn’t really formed an opinion to this whole Pickle Barrel thing-a-ma-doober. For those of you who haven’t heard, a Saudi exchange student was refused service at the Pickle Barrel sandwich shop in Missoula because he may or may not have insulted the manager a few weeks prior when both were trying to catch a cab home. The manager may or may not have shouted racial slurs when kicking him out. The student did get some professor to call the police, who didn’t do anything, because apparently nothing illegal happened. ASUM took Pickle Barrel off their Griz Card thingy.

All that, I was fine with. I don’t give an effing eff about the Pickle Barrel’s over-priced mediocre tasting sandwiches. I don’t give a flying eff at the moon about two guys fighting over a taxi. I don’t even give one giant mother effer that the manager was probably drunk off his ass at the time and very likely could have made a mistake and that he should have been canned for refusing a customer. I’ve dealt with old nemesis at my current job with professional respect. It’s what I do.

One side has maintained that racism was a factor. The other side does not. I wasn’t affected that much by it.

What finally got my goat about, was people’s support of the Pickle Barrel. The mere hint of “racism” against an Arab was enough to send droves of people to support their brethren at the Pickle Barrel. As the letters to the editor in the Missoulian showed, Allen and Evelyn Holbrook state that “It is also encouraging to know there are still ‘thinking’ and reasonable people in this world, who do not approve of the knee-jerking political correctness which we are forced to encounter daily.”

“Knee-jerking political correctness” means exactly what? To go back to the good ol’ days when all the darkies knew their place and dependence on foreign oil didn’t empower the Middle Easterners? The Holbrooks are from Potomac are going to make it a point to “make a commitment to make the inconvenient drive across Missoula to eat at the Pickle Barrel” thereby ensuring to use more gas and send more profit to the Middle East so they can afford to send more students over here. I may be wrong with my analysis in that regard, but I may not care either.

I guess it just sickens me to see Montanans tripping over themselves to support a business that may or may not condone racism. For my part, I’m not boycotting Pickle Barrel because I never ate their gimicky sandwiches in the first place. It takes more than a pickle to pull me through the door.

Where Did You Go?

And who really cares, eh? I’m still trying to figure out this blog thing-a-ma-doober. I started up the blog last October so I could make snide political remarks. Though the more I traverse teh internets, the more I realize that I know jack about politics. I like learning and I like “discussing”, but sometimes it just seems fruitless to do all this on teh internets. I miss discussing with my dad and am afeard to discuss with my brother. I’m a “liberal-libertarian” whereas my brother is a “neo-conservative.” In the few times we’ve discussed politics we’re (or at least I have) realized that 1) we should never discuss politics; 2) if we discuss politics we should keep it to vague references about vague topics and not jump on any bait that the other offers; and 3) we actually believe a lot of the same things, though we have different names for it.

Then I was thinking I wanted to try to make my blog a “lifestyle” blog. You know, give a peek into how I live. But the details of my life are quite inconsequential. Really, my days invariably include: wake up, eat, complain about getting fat, then either go to work and sit all day in front of a computer or stay at home trying to write in front of a computer, twice a week I go swimming sometime during my days off, eat dinner, watch a movie or play a board game, and then sleep. On the weekends I try to have band practice and if the band cancels practice, I practice by myself. I sneak as much reading as I possibly can in all my off time. I wrestle with my compulsion to play games. Not that game playing is bad, but most anything done obsessively can be detrimental.

Sometimes I think of great blog topics and then forget them before I can get to the keyboard. Other times I just want to rant and rave, but fear of being labeled a “wacko” or “immature” or whatever strawman titles that denote my class (whatever that is). Truth is, that I like being weird. I like to think it comes from having a nearly unfettered imagination while being securely grounded in what’s real and what’s not. By acknowledging that reality at times sucks, I can take more delight in my imagination. I love people who can “go with the flow” as far as creativity goes. I hate it when people are confronted with difference and make some sort of assanine remark like “Someone forgot their pills today,” of “Can I have what you’re having.” Yes, you can have what I’m having. Let me crack open my skull, scoop out my brains and force feed them down your throat. That aside, I understand that not everyone has the same sense of humor, nor would I want it that way. How fun would it be to listen to one genre of music your whole life and never discover anything new? Likewise, as I grow and change I find things previously dull and tedious to be hilarious.

So back to the question, “Where Did I Go?” (The “you” refers to “me.”) I find that I blog more when I write or make music less. This site has become sort of an outlet for me: a way to give my work instant air. It gets sooo frustrating at times working on a novel that is 160,000+ words (I haven’t counted in a couple of months) since August of 2005. Only my wife has read it. I used to keep my writing secret until it was all done, but I am a performer and I need feedback, so I broke my self-imposed rule with my wife. Plus the music will have a couple surprises in the next few months. If I kept all my life completely segregated, I wouldn’t have to worry about letting the cat out of the bag, but as I was dunder-headed enough to mix and match and then delete and reformated and lah dee dah! and Abracadabra!

Well, anyway. I’m at work again. Things are busy because we’re doing a move of some kind. I have to work the phones while everyone else gets to chat. So, my blog is getting punchy. I’m going to check out now.

Population and GO GRIZ!!!

So I read in the Missoulian today that the Griz semi-final game is sold out. I only hope they have room at the laundry mat so I can still watch all the action on ESPN2. The article states that all 23,400 seats were sold.

To put this number in prospective, I pulled up the population figures of Missoula and Missoula county. Missoula has about 63,000 people while Missoula County now tops 100,000. This is a HUGE population swell that provides an intense presence at the games.

But I’m surprised that I haven’t heard anything else about Missoula County finally popping over 100,000. This is an important milestone in any urban area (al beit smaller than the city hitting 100,000).