Insightful, charming and engaging,

"My Journey to Where I'm Meant to Be" is a must read!

 - John Fallon/Arrowinthehead.com

Everything is mutable and shifting, words that mean one thing sliding and changing until all the meanings mean nothing and nothing means anything. In this atmosphere, the air is thin and too warm, and little things travel farther and block my neurons and I can't think straight, hence why my thoughts are crooked and unaccounted for. Still, one can try, and try again, and maybe stick to the course, but then again, I've never been one to do what's best for me. Te occidere possunt sed te edere non possunt nefas est.

Anyway, some day, I'll work it out, why things happen and how they do. I'm sure of this, as sure as I am that the future we've been promised since decades before I was born is not coming, with a distinct lack of exclamation points and absolutely no flying cars or jetpacks. Waking up, saying goodbye, touching, not touching,…

ok, seriously, what the fuck just happened?

I had a successful first gig, made some money, and established that I indeed now have a significant other.

SO, why do I feel like a terrible terrible person for... well, I'm not quite sure why I do, and I'm not sure why I should. And honestly, it kind of sucks. (Specificities will be left out, because I am not an ass.)

But yeah, goddammit. I am confused as fuck right now.

 

 

The lack of sleep is probably compounding this, by the way.

 

 

 

Anyway, what's the Frequency, Kenneth?

I wonder if it's possible to be in too many music projects.

I mean, I am a bass player/vocalist and of the songwriters in Robots and Racecars, I am the bass player in Take Today, I am the bass player in my drummer's sideproject Stay Sweet, I could potentially be involved in my friend's sideproject Lightsleeper, and I have my own solo project called How I Became Invisible. On top of all that, there's ANOTHER group being put together called Boom City.

I hardly sleep as it is already, and yet, I don't really do a whole lot with my time. Sitting around watching Monty Python on dvd and twittering about Watchmen, Final Crisis, and Scott Pilgrim don't really set the world on fire, y'know?

Hurm.

OH, and I forgot to mention, I will soon be the unquestioned lord and master of this planet and all reality.…

"Straighten up and fly right," that's what I'm told. But with no map, and very little in the way of navigational sense, "fly right" is a loose direction to be given. I have so many things I have done, and so many things I haven't, that the pro and con columns on my "this is how I am" list are staggering in their complexity, not to mention length. And there's always the next day to wake up to, the next new beginning, the next "it's all happening." But the happening and the being are two very different concepts to me, and right now, I am neither being nor happening. I simply am. I am alive. I am breathing. I am not sleeping. I am still. I am standing. I am.

But is it enough to simply "am"? I can't imagine anything else, really, I cannot. Ingesting information and analyzing, that is…

My life turns. It spins, it revolves. Like film on a reel, unspooling at 24 frames a second, spliced and taped together to make a simulacrum of an existence. So far, so good, I suppose. Dim the lights, roll sound, call "Action!", and away I go, on and on until my life meter is low and I need a health pack before I lose a turn. Respawn, replace, and replenish the cycle, I'm on a roll, and baby, I feel my luck could change. The sun is red over the city, a spinning circle burning down behind the skyline, all silhouetted buildings and scaffolding, and I think it deserves whatever is coming to it.

: : : : : : : :

Fight Club is most peoples' model for projection now, but it is not strictly true anymore, by the way. Film comes as separate reels still,…

Martine McCutcheon interview for "Love, Actually" & her autobiography pt 2

Martine McCutcheon interview for "Love, Actually" & her autobiography pt 1

i bought Russel Brand's book 'My booky wook'

i got it on Saturday & have already got through over half of the book.
i never thought that i would like reading about other peoples' lives, but i knew that i loved Russel Brand & that is why i bought the book.
i love the way that, even though he's had quite a rough life, he still manages to put humour into it, but makes it sincere at the same time.

i'd like to hear if anyone else has read any good biographies/autobiographies.


xxx
raerae.

SO it's like this:
the older I get, the more well-adjusted I seem to be. I take things in stride, I don't stress/fret/worry. Openly anyway. When someone asks me "Is something wrong?" or "Are you upset?" or "How do you feel about that?", I, more often than not, answer with "I'm ok." Whether I really am or not is the issue I'm having at the moment. I have become, over the last year or so, entirely less cynical than I have been in the past. In fact, at this point, despite everything, I am almost a complete optimist. I believe the world as whole is something good and worth living in, and that the future, though unwritten, is something to look forward to with hope rather than fear. Still, something nags at me.

Over the past month, there's been three separate, unrelated events that, I assume, would cause consternation, worry, and issues for most people. They…

There's too much happening, and all too soon. My head feels crowded, so many people and words struggling to get out and be heard that they all get stuck in the door and none get out. Tiny Door Syndrome, but in my head rather than my lungs. I can't be specific, things are vague and unformed and quite frankly up in the air, falling slowly ("sing your melody...") to settle amongst the detritus of approximately 28 years of degrading memory and let-downs. Whatever. We all fall down eventually, it's what we do to pick ourselves up that matters.

To paraphrase: My heart is deep space and my head is mathematics.

So yeah, there it is. Small, unpinpointable, blinking in the distance to signal the ships to shore ("do you read? SOS JTB?"), but assuming the position to drown, and I'm assuming very little about any agendas put forth now. There's up, there's down, there's in, and there's my out. To the left, below the…

Book Excerpt 2

Chapter 10a Love: The Graetest Joy, which is followed by Chapter 10b Love: The Greatest Sorrow

Because the school transfer wasn't complete yet, as well as the obligation I now had to my job, Lupe and I were only able to see each other on the weekends. That is except for one particular evening. She called and said she'd be able to stop by for a while because her mom and siblings were going to visit a relative. I straightened the place up and looked forward to her arrival.

Mom and I were living in a one bedroom apartment. Trying to fulfill her requirements set forth by CPS, she had gotten a job on a construction crew. She ended up leaving the job no more than a month into it, but during this particular evening of having Lupe over, she was still working…

Book Excerpt 1

Excerpt taken from Chapter 7 Trouble In Paradise

As usual, finances began to get low and times began to get tough. After a week or so at the motel, we had no choice but to move to a shelter for women and their children.

The shelter was actually just a house converted as one. The famed ’Sleeping Giant’ could be seen from there.(A mountain resembling a Sleeping Giant.) We were there for a few weeks before we found an available house on the other side of the island in the small town of Kekaha. It was the nicest house we had ever lived in, and just a few blocks from the beach.

Mom convinced the owners that we could afford to live there. Something she seemed to have to do with every new place we moved into.

Soon after moving in, we ran into our friend…

Creatively, I go through a lot of peaks and troughs. I'm always writing, there is no arguing there. But my personal opinion on the quality tends to waver, as well as the quantity, and style I'm doing it in. For a few weeks, I will be all songwriting all the time, then I'll write poetry, then songs again, then short stories, essays, whatever. The cycle changes a lot, too. It weirds me out sometimes, because I'll think to myself "I need to write a new song," but I just don't have the... I don't know... inspiration isn't the right word, but it's as close as I can get.

So, I've lagged a bit in the blogging area. I keep having ideas of things I want to write about, mostly while I'm working (and listening to the Motherboxxx), but by the time I get home to write, I have either lost the will or the idea. I thought purchasing a moleskein…

Hey everyone. I have been offline for a while, I know. I apologize to everyone this causes a lack of fun to Lol.
So anyway, I’ve decided to switch speeches AGAIN. I know, its not good to switch from speech to speech, but this one will knock people out of the park. Seriously. Its all about my life and what I intend to do with it, and what life had intended for me. Here it is, but I’ve blocked out my last name for safety reasons (sorry, but you can’t be to careful).
I’m probably the saddest little girl you will ever meet. Don’t be fooled by
my bubbly personality and the laughter in my voice. Look me in the eyes. Can you
see it? It’s a single tear on the brim of my eye. It’s not your fault. Maybe if you
hear this speech you’ll understand why I don’t…

i started getting back into her.... i hate admitting that but whatever.
this is my favorite song from her.
blah.

I attempted to keep a journal during my family's four plus day excursion to the Dominican Republic last week, but somehow I was sidetracked by the fact that I COMPLETELY HATED IT THERE. After the first night, the highlight of my day was waking up and realizing I'd have one less day there before I went home. In any event, the journal ended up devolving into a fit of gonzo journalism madness after the first few entries. Here it is, in its entirety, unedited. I'm never going back there. Ever.

----------------------------------------

01.14.08

I don't like it here.

I'm in the Dominican Republic, with my family, for 5 nights and 4 days. In theory, it seems like a wonderful idea; it's the middle of January, when it is freezing and wet at Echobase, escaping to a warm sunny island of tropical love and alcoholic drinks is almost a no-brainer. And yes, that part is most decidedly good. I like that part. It is nice. It's just. .…

I am talking to you from the future.

We are there, you and I, walking together in the purple twilight, everything much like it was before and will be even later, but still, it's different, and will always be. Fingers touching fingers, lightly skipping along knuckles and whorls and pores, the air crisp, bitter even. You seem so happy, and I so less un-. The season turns and snow is falling and dead skeletons line the roadways to and from our homes, and our spectral bodies line each other, hands and spines blending, everything white and brilliant and blinding. So much seems the same, yet different, and it's all glorious, eyes sparkling in lights that aren't even on, and darkness encroaching into the hearts we don't admit to the other that we have. We are simple creatures, really. Touch and taste and sight and sound and scent mingled into perception and reality. And then somehow, tomorrow comes just as you do.

I am talking to…

For my creative writing class a while ago we had the assignment to write our autobiography in less than 400 words. That was the only guideline. I did mine in a very different form and drew on certain events and different random things I have experienced that illustrate who I was, who I am, and who I will become.
Here is my life story:

Life is what you do with it.
Running through Boston. Europe next year.
Five hours car rides. Shared birthdays with cousins.
Snorkeling in the keys. Hooked a gator in the glades.
Splashing through puddles with my friends.
Shopping until my feet bled. Football games and autumn days.
Crying over silly things.
Chinese food with mom. At the hospital with dad.
Outdoor concerts with big brother. Mud and music. Four dollar water.
Broken bones and hearts. Fluorescent lights and Charles V.
A cat in the cradle and one in the kitchen sink.
Hockey teams and scraped…

Since I'm hardly on here...
Feel free to add me:
myspace.com/xpunk_rock_princessx

The streets are wet, and silent, and dark. Everything has gone to bed, gone to sleep, gone to dream away the whys and maybes that confront them. I am awake. As is usual. I am walking the streets, my streets, full of promise and hope and regret and wariness. Small animals and dying trees line the sidewalk, continuing in their nervous existence, frightened out of their slumber by the wind and the thunder and the lightning. They are afraid of electricity, afraid of being jolted. I think I am too. Afraid of being too alive, too caught up beyond what I know. The future frightens me, its unknown quality intriguing and sacrosanct and desperate. How does one qualify their own short-term and long-term prospects within the parameters of what society expects? These are the worries that confront my programming.

I travel west, down my street and towards the hill. It's dark there, my eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as I go, and…

AUTOBIOGRAPHY---CHELSEA LYONS
My name is Chelsea Lyons. i was born in the city of Orange in Orange County, California on September 21, 1992 at 2:55 am. i

have been a connections academy student for 3 years and don't enjoy writing about myself.i have a little brother named

Christian. he recently turned 13 and goes to military school. i enjoy rock music, pop music, and even some rap music [if you

can call it music], and basically everything except country. i hero worship the band My Chemical Romance and Gwen Stefani is

my biggest idol. i'm going to start writing about my history now so this won't sound too much like a personals ad.

CHILDHOOD
i went to elementary school in Costa Mesa California. that's in Orange County too. i was pretty happy, i was social, i was…

Veronica&My conversation

Jo&My conversation

"Who do you talk to every day anyways, it's like you're always on AIM." Veronica IMed me, of course everything was abbreviated and spelled wrong, god I hated chatspeak.

Amy: Well, usually, it's Jo.But I'm not talking to him now.

Veronica: riiiite that guy u lyk, y do u im him so much?

Amy: It's not like I can call him

Veronica: good point. whats his sn anyways

Veronica:??

I hesitated slightly. He was smart, and good at manipulating people, who knows who he could get out of her. Veronica wasn't only frail in body, at a wimpy 4'10" or so, and 80 pounds, she wasn't much to be intimidated of, but she could also easily be swayed into others' opinions. Thinking about how I could lie to her for a good thirty minute ramble and she'd soak up every word as if it was written…

Lin shrugged a concerned but powerless shrug and looked back upon him, so I watched too. He was talking a little about journalism, and how it was when he was in it, but more over about the differences in high school. Apparently, according to himself, the funny guy get's top reign, and he was the funny guy. His audience eagerly agreed. But being the skeptic I was, I stated clearly "I guess your only behind the funnier guy then, huh?" Oh, jeez, Amy, what were you doing? I told myself to stop talking to him, anyone his age that would be like that to someone three, four years younger than him couldn't be trusted. 

 "What?" He said, and turned to me expectantly, almost as if testing the seemingly basic eigth grader.

 I held my smug expression and before I could tell myself to shut up, shrug and turn around,…

dammit!! why can't i get to meet her? curse everyone whose met her! until one day i do then i'll forgive you... but i do rather wanna meet the old ashlee. before all the plastic and back when she still had black hair, but i guess the new one'll have to do.