Kretek = Happy.

Inspiration is my curse. Its an evil force tied up in black lace, and it hovers just outside the edge of my vision, all day, everyday.

And then, sometimes, at night... i see it.

It only ever shows up when i have no medium, or no medium from which i care to produce. Tonight, music haunts me. With the new developments in my production, which i have not mentioned in this here blog, i have also new inspiration.

And also, new curses.

Allow me to indulge your reading eyes with a short little story about the last week or two. three? Eh i don't know... since my last post, anyways.

I met Curt and Mark (Curt is in fact spelled Kurt, but i fucked it up once and will now forever fuck it up) through my friend Bryn Yeager. Mark is the epitomy of happy life, he simply enjoys himself and time with his friends. He is upbeat, hilarious, a bit awkward, and always the best source of mood-lightening euphemisms and quwips. He is great. Curt is a brilliant guitarist, and an all around likable guy. He spends his time thinking about guitars, girls, and a good conversation through cigarette smoke.

My kind of guy.

Well, sans drama of the normal group type social environment, myself, Curt, and Mark all get along brilliantly. Bryn can be a nice interjection, but often times we all find ourselves wanting to just be the guys, and chill in the haze of psuedo intellectual conversation (sometimes genuine, even).

Curt brought me the new muse.

One night, i played for him an unfinished track of mine, which was turning out nicely and worth the listen. He picked up his guitar, and began to play along.

Mark and i were astounded.

It sounded as though he was always a part of the track, like he had heard it a million times and was simply playing his part, yet he had never heard the song ever before.

Intrigued, we tried out several other tracks of mine, to find that more often than not, he could catch on and play some amazing backup or lead to it, depending on the track style.

Needless to say, it was soon thereafter that we began discussing recording equipment and how to start producing our own unique blend of music, using our combined talents.

To clarify, Curt is not your average guitar player. He is far beyond his years, and his ability is far beyond that of most people i know. He is excellent. Impressive, even.

So, bringing this back in a loop, we come to right now. I listened to some of my old work on my (bloody fucking) iPod, and ideas streamed into my head.

Ideas that ultimately splatter on the floor to rot, as i have an extremely short-term inspiration memory, and no means by which i might cognitively copy them down for future reference.

I am frusterated.

Right now, our only recording and production area is Brandon's place, which is hectic and difficult to work in. Unless its just me and Curt, with perhaps Mark around, its nearly impossible to actually get anything done.

We are in a bit of a bind.

I introduced them both formally to Kretek when we first met, and now and again we share one together. They actually call them Kretek, which is great, and have smoked a variety enough to know some of the more intimate details of the style of cigarette. Combine this delicious smoking experiance with the joining of two musicians (er, well a musician and a producer) and you have quite the night.

Most nights, we simply hang out and talk about life, family, and the like. Curt is usually playing his guitar, which is great because its A. good music, and B. being played right there in front of you. Most of the time, he just makes things up off the top of his head. His ability to improvise lends itself well to my sporadic methods for writing, and also to random conversation.

Mark, while not as musically inclined, still managed to make himself an indisposable part of the group. He always has something intersting or insightful to say, and while he appears to be rather mystified by everything, he is quite acutely aware of whats going on. Sometimes, he surprises me with his clever notes of life, or even just something that happened moments ago. On top of all of that, he is a great gauge as to how well what Curt and i are working on is turning out. If its good, he grins like a happy kid. If its not, he sits and looks thoughtfully into the distance, waiting for something good to happen.

So, long story short (again not really methinks) this little triad we have here is great. We all have similar outlooks on life, and we all mesh well.

it rocks.

Sometimes, literally.

So, keep an eye out for some test music for you people to listen to, as i imagine it will be quite cool.

cool is a terrible word to describe it, but eh...

and, as always...

(fuck.)

wow.

Strong Sword - video powered by Metacafe

Amazing. i want japanese TV.

I am the good samaritan.

I just saved a baby bunny from the clutches of my cat, misty. I heard it peeping outside (which they only do if they are afraid, its a terrible thing to hear. Meep! Meep! Meep!) so i went to see if misty had already dealt too much damage for it to survive, or if it was just being toyed with. Luckily, it was virtually unharmed, sans a tiny cut on its foot, which misty's claw no doubt inflicted.

So, i took the bunny inside for a moment and calmed it down, and then brought it back out the the garden. Misty was scooped up, and brought inside, as to give the bunny free range of the yard, and where ever it might need to go to get home.

And yes, it is very weird seeing the black fingernailed hands holding the sleepy-looking baby bunny (which was not very sleepy at all).

This just in... sorta...

Ok, postage: (stamp)

On the right you will now find links to my T-mobile (shit service) online albums, where i send photos i take so people can see them. Its basically a simple way to get snapshots of my normal life, which are too unremarkable to be actual photos, but slightly interesting nonetheless. So far, not many up. But then, i just started using it. you can leave comments and whatnot right on the photos, which would be quite nice.

So, life is as follows:

My peircing is healing quite nicely, and so far has caused zero problems. Very cool. Its a pain cleaning it all the time, but since it hasn't been infected after this long, it should be fine, and on its way to building a nice solid scar tissue. I can't wait to replace the stupid extra-size ring (which was used in case of swelling) and just moving down to the contoured size.

I finally got my hair trimmed, and its not as long in the back anymore. Its the same more or less, just shorter in the back. Miss Bryn did it for me. Funny how i always have a cosmotologist in my life to deal with the shit i don't feel like paying for, haha.

I got a new lighter, which is actually a little guinness pint. I love it, it lights death sticks, and makes me happy. However, i ran out of kretek this week, and spent my remaining money on iTunes. Bad idea. Whatever.

My friend Curt and i have been working on getting ready to record some material for the album, which at the rate we are going, is going to be "wicked sick". Thats a technical term for "fucking amazing". My .com now has a little meter at the top, and when its full, the album will be released. The bars represent completed tracks. Yippee Skippy.

I painted my stupid nails again for the first time since canadia. I just let the shit chip off until i can't stand it anymore, and then i redo it. If painting them didn't require two coats and a god damn hour to do, i wouldn't wait so long, but alas i am lazy. They look fine now though. Nice and black, like they should be.

Er... thats about it.


and to conclude it all:

fuck.

Kretek and a Lack of Common Sense define me.

What have i done recently to warrent typing in this here blog... hmmm

Well, i've killed the last week by

A. sleeping
B. Writing music
C. sleeping
D. Drinking Guinness at Brandon's
E. resting
F. Drinking Guinness at La Piazza (or something to that similar effect)
G. Not being awake

Bryn is off in Florida till later on tonight, and as of late she has been the virtual staple of my evenings. Mariokart and cigarettes, and then conversation revolving around everything from dead people to odd art. Coincidentally, that art is mostly from currently dead people.

In addtion to Ms. Bryn, there is Kyle and Brandon, who interchangably take time up during my days. I sleep mostly, however. And work. And then, i go to fulton bank, cash my check, pay eight thousand bills, gawk at the five dollars remaining, and then waste it on something dumb like ho hos, or a claw machine.

The plan which is unfolding currently long term involves me (censoring this parts details by request) moving the hell out of this hell hole. Fuck Lancaster. Ahem. (sorry, Friend from South Carolina, for the random cursing)

Floating about on the agenda is my Sportbike, which of course requires a loan from the bank. After my current debt is settled, a new debt of about $9000 will be incurred so i can buy the jet black GSXR 750 i so desire. I am about to have my permit, and soon the license to ride one. This will be in about three months, or if i decide to buy the leather coat instead, six months.

Long term goals involving my actual life are sketchy, heh. No female options to speak of, although i do have some very keen ideas. While i am not actively searching for someone, there are certainly doors to which i have the key. (that was terribly melodramatic... damnit...)

As of right now, five of the twelve tracks for my as of yet nameless album are either completed or near completion. How long is it going to take? er... at the rate i've been going...

never.

but eh.

I find it interesting how people manage to go through just about every day worried about something, or pissed about something, or stressed about something. Nine times out of then, right that moment, in the heat of thier anger, they can't do anything about whatever it is that is bugging them. Yet they stress. Why stress over things you can't change? And why doesn't anyone just shrug and say, oh well? Shit happens, man. Sounds dumb, but its the truth. If i worried about all the junk i am responsible for all the time, i'd be dead. it doesn't mean its not important, it just means i chose to simply cross bridges when i come to them, and not tremble and scream four miles away from the aforementioned bridge.

Lighten up, jesus.(again, sorry friend)

If you made it this far into the post, you get a cookie.

If you comment, you get another cookie.

If you only leave a comment about wanting a cookie, you owe me $9000.