Sunday, May 31, 2009
Okay! Weekend recap!!!!!!!
Friday! I uhhh...I don't remember. I think I just sat at home.
Saturday! I get on my cell phone (the day before) and am like "Hey, Megan Greene! Are you free tomorrow!" And she's all "Possibly yes" or some shit like that. So I wake up on Saturday to Jimmy calling me asking me if I'm still coming over. I tell the bitch, "Yeah, I'm coming, you asshole." He tells me, "Okay, well I just got back from Baltimore and we need to go to Wal-mart first and then I'll call you when we get back. That should be around 4." So I say, "Whatever, bitch." So then I get this text from Megan and she's all "Are you still wanting to do the shoot today?" I say, "Yeah, that's the plan." She's all like, "Alright. When's this shit goin' down?" I'm all like, "Asshole Jim has been in Baltimore and he just got home and he had to run to Wal-mart and is supposed to get back around 4. I'll let you know what's going on when I find out." Well I sit at home 'till like 4:30 and Megan's been asking what's going on. She even CALLED me and shit. That's how curious we get, that we actually call and TALK on our cell phones. So I call Jim and ask him if he's going to be home soon. He's on his way home. I say, "Bitch, can we pick up Megan with you or do I have to go get her myself?" He says, "Bitch, I ain't yo man. Get her yourself." So I do. I call up my auntie (because I still don't have a car of my own or any of that shit) and we roll out to Megan's house. Megan gets in the car, my auntie Cris thought I said something about her tits, I laughed and said, "No! Not 'She's got a nice rack!' I said, 'This car is a wreck!'" Too funny. So Megan gets in the back of the van and we fuckin' roll to Jim's house! Then we all dick around for a while, Megan gets acquainted with my bitches, and then we go out to take her picture for the album cover. End paragraph.
So we're out trying to take her picture for the new I Forget album cover and there are mosquitoes fuckin' everywhere! I'm still itching from where they bit me. Poor Megan Greene was wearing a dress! Terrible. Just terrible. So we get some potentially good shots to work with, take some group pictures ('cause das how we roll), get bitten by blood-sucking insects some more, and go back to the house. A little later, Tim, my main bitch, shows up. I swear, my friends don't know what to do around pretty girls. Well we show Megan our video that we were making a sequel to that day. She found it to be enjoyable, I do believe. I'm hoping she enjoyed her time with us. Jim's mom then drove her home. That's when we got to business and made the best fucking opening scenes to a movie EVER. They will come all in good time. This movie's not gonna be some 5-minute bull shit. We're aiming for half an hour of footage. I play the part of the protagonist, Jackson. Jackson is fucking badass. I am fucking badass. It works.
So then we edit that shit down, sit around and talk about things that will not be discussed publicly, and then we watched Silent Hill because Alex hadn't seen it. It's fucking retarded and fucked up, I swear. We the kids that live in West Virginia know that there is no such thing as a Silent Hill, WV. Huge hole in your plot line, assholes. I guess that's not important, though. That movie is so fucked up. Then I fell asleep.
Sunday! I wake up pissed off because my dreams weren't real! I fucking hate that shit! Then we play some Super Smash Bros and Alex drives me home. I get a bath and then I sleep some more. I wake up, put a shirt on, and go to graduation. It was windy. People threw their hats. I played a bunch of quarter notes and one eighth note on the bass drum for a song. Tough shit. But there's some fff shit at the end of the song, and that's fun. I might have added an f. Woops. Then I came home, read a little, and wrote an essay. Now I'm right here. Writing a blog.
Are you satisfied? This is the last week of school. It should be over NOW. NO ONE gives a FUCK. Oh, and just one thing. One of the stories I had to compare in my essay is called "Speaking of Courage" and it's a chapter from The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, who is my favorite war author. It didn't even register that I was reading Tim O'Brien until I was halfway through the story and certain parts had seemed very familiar. For some fucking reason, they changed the names and some of the places for this text book, though. It threw me off. I had to go online and realize they'd changed Norman Bowker to Paul Berlin and Kiowa or whatever to Frenchie. How fucking retarded. Plus, they said that Kiowa, or in this story's case Frenchie, died in an underground tunnel instead of sinking into a marsh where Norman tried to pull him out but failed. Why the hell did they do that? It was a perfectly excellent chapter in a book and I liked it a lot better in context of the story than as a short story in a text book. Pfft.
I fucking love Tim O'Brien, though. Alex keeps comparing his love for reading to my love for punk music and stuff. I understand now. He has respect for and enjoys Herman Melville and prefers How to Clean Everything. I have respect for and enjoy Supporting Caste and Potemkin City Limits and prefer J.D. Salinger or Kurt Vonnegut. I like that, though. If only they had punk history class in school. He's going to do great in AP Literature next year. If you understood that, good job. Those references were kind of a stretch for most people.
My jaw just did something real fucked up and I didn't like it. I think that's a sign that I need iron and sleep.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
It was called "Hardcore vs. Metalcore ([more importantly]NOT hardcore)"
Okay, here's the thing. I might not fully know what "hardcore" is because I wasn't alive when it was really kicking. But I do know what IS NOT hardcore.
First, I'll show you some pictures of who represents what I think hardcore is and should be: Paint It Black.
And now for a band that I know is NOT hardcore. I think "metalcore" is more accurate, but what the fuck do I know? I know it's not hardcore. This is Bring Me The Oliver Sykes.
Okay, fucking seriously. Hardcore, as originated, is the opposite of a fashion show. It was a scene of kids and bands that got together for a similar cause, and no, that cause was not to make br00tal music you can dance like a fucking moron to. It's about singing about what moves you and singing along and sticking out for each other. It's not about pointing fingers and calling some guy across the room a faggot. In fact, that's quite backwards. Hardcore did not start off as the most popular of the popular getting together and jamming while their friends danced in the "pit." It's more like all of the people that felt lost got together and gave themselves a place to belong. So it's almost as offensive to me when someone calls a metalcore band a "hardcore" band as it is when someone calls someone or something else gay just for lack of an adjective. Learn your fucking history, kids. You're not dancing to hardcore. Hardcore isn't performed from a stage far away from the crowd. It's not about that. It's about the crowd being as important as the music, which is why it's intended to be played right on the floor. Fuck the Warped Tour, fuck FYE, fuck Hot Topic, and everything else for giving you this fucked up image of what hardcore is.
That was it, and I added my little "love, Kyle" thing, but here's another thing. Don't headbang. You're not in Slayer. Headbang in the name of Slayer, but denounce everything hardcore about you or everything you claim to be before you grow your hair out and do it in your "hardcore" band. God, that's just so stupid. There's a scene for that. It's called the metal scene. Get your metal outta my hardcore. I'm gonna write a song about that shit. I'm definitely pissed about it enough to do it. I don't know if Shane would be thrilled about it since he loves his Suicide Silence and all. Brittney doesn't really care about hardcore that much at all, I think, so maybe it'll just be me. Whatever.
I was supposed to read two short stories or essays tonight and I fucking didn't and I don't give a shit. I don't want to read when there are 6 days left of school. God, I just thought...if Olie Sykes gets sexiest vegetarian from Peta, I'll kill all vegetarians. Except for Dan Yemin of Paint It Black and all of those other ones I love, but you metalcore bitches...I swear. Fuck you and your fucking shitty band. I've heard it all a billion fucking times. Your songs sound NOTHING like hardcore. NOTHING.
I just get so angry. Hardcore music has way too much heart and soul in it for me to watch it get Olie Sykes' box haircut plastered on its face.
This all being said, I Forget's new album is going to be amazing. Have I mentioned that? It is. You better fuckin' buy it. I can't wait for our record release show. I don't know when or where it'll be yet, but it will be epic.
'Kay, I'm done talking.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
"Little Miss Muffette sat on her tuffet eating to nourish her health.
Her husband came home, sat on his throne, and said 'Dinner's not making itself'."
It's funny, you see, because it's sexist. I also realized that nothing good rhymes with "home," "husband," or "self." It makes a sexist poem quit difficult to write.
Well, let's see. I've missed the bus two days in a row now and now I'm up almost at 1 AM writing a blog. I need to get out of this habit. Trig is so fucking hard to stay awake through. I didn't finish my trig homework and I didn't finish reading that thing from the huge ass reading book, but I did finish The Stranger. Tell you what, this thing didn't like me trying to make a word italicized, make the next normal, and the one after it italicized again. Is "italicize" a racial slur?
Okay, so The Stranger is this book about a guy who is kind of numbed to what's going on around him for whatever reason. I never really caught on to why; I think it's just how he is. The books starts with his mom dieing and he attends her funeral, but doesn't seem to be too upset, doesn't cry, and does not want to see her one last time in her casket. He also doesn't talk unless there's something he really wants to say. He's the narrator and as the narrator, I see him as a more mature, hardened Holden Caulfield. I love Holden, as I always say, so it was easy for me to read and love this book. I read probably the last 7/8 of it today, most when sitting on my front porch because I misplaced my house key at my mom's and couldn't get into my dad's house when I got home. Anyway, back to the story. So the narrator (he's got some French name that I can't remember because they didn't say it much) is very stoic. He's kind of epic in it. Like he fucks this girl named Marie and I kind of fell in love with her because she is so nice and beautiful and loves the main character. She's great. But he's like so...emotionless that like she asked him if he loves her and he'd always say, "It doesn't really matter, but I don't think so." He never lies. He's straight out honest, but she loves him anyway. I think he actually loves her, too, which makes it nice. Well halfway through the book, the guy shoots some Arab guy that cut his friend with a knife earlier and tried pulling a knife on him right before he shot the guy. The entire second half of the book is about his trials and his life in prison and what they do to him. It's quite a turn around, but it ties all of the seemingly random characters and events in the first half of the book together, save a few I didn't understand. I'd like to research the book and learn more about what certain characters symbolized and all. Anyway, the main character is an athiest and he was great at it. Very "faithful" to his athiesism. Towards the end, and I'll try not to give it away, a chaplain comes in and tries to tell him that he needs God and all this shit and he's pretty much just like, "Shut the fuck up. You don't know what's best for me." (Or as I would say, "You're not a zen ball! You don't know what's best for me." [Peggle reference].) He's great. He doesn't just kiss religion's ass to save himself. He tells the chaplain that he at least has his own knowledge and will and thoughts and he's more alive than the chaplain even though he's pretty much lifeless in prison. I'd like you to read the book, so I won't give away the ending. It was depressing me until he stood up for what he believed, even if that was nothing. He said like, "I don't want to repent. I don't regret living. I did things I could have done differently. There are some things I did when I could have done other things. There are somethings I didn't do when I did other things instead." Something like that. He was pretty much just saying that he didn't waste any of his time worrying about and stressing over God.
Which brings me to something I wish we would have gotten on tape in the studio. So on "The Enforcer," (yes, we're re-recording it) it says "Someone's got a gun" a good many times. Well when Brittney would try to sing "got," she'd always say "gyat." So I told her to try singing "Someone's GOD a gun." Jason hit record and she sang the word right, but fucked up the vocal melody and she said, "Sorry, I was focusing on 'GOD'...for the first time in my life." Fucking funny if you have any sense of humor.
One thing about the author of The Stranger, he died on my birthday. Well, 32 years before I was born to the day, actually. January 4, 1960. I thought that was interesting.
I asked Megan Greene yesterday if she would be on our album cover. She replied today saying that she'd be interested. I do hope the image I have in my head can be put onto an album cover and that Megan's face can help us achieve it. I need a stereotypical suburban home-esque teenage bedroom for the picture, though. Anyone live in one or know where I can find one? I also need an old telephone.
Dude, Jim put up the video that he, Tim, Nick, Alex, and I star in. It's very excellent. We're doing a sequel to it this weekend. Here are the two parts of it. I'm getting to bed now.
Monday, May 25, 2009
So what happens is this: Brittney told Kara she'd pick her up when she got off of work and then we were stopping by Willie's to get a keyboard back from him. Alrighty. So we pick up Kara around 10:30 and then she tells us we need to go pick up Megan Greene. So! We call Megan to find out where she is and she gives us directions, even though Kara had just been to the same place she was the night before. Kara has a terrible, terrible memory or something. So we take a wrong turn on the way to pick Megan up and Kara says, "Hey! We're going the wrong way. We did this last night." Which was really helpful around that time. "Hey! This is where we turned around when we got lost!" Really.
So anyway, we eventually picked up Megan after a small detour and Kara started asking where villages are. I informed her that we live in an industrialized world and she's gotta go somewhere else to find a village. I swear sometimes...I don't even think I have to comment on this. Yadda yadda yadda, trip to Denny's, we eat us some food, Brittney and I freak out Megan, and then we go to Willie's. I drove, which was fun. So we went to Willie's and he and all of his friends are drunk and thought we were the cops. What a crew they were. Willie wrestled his friend, I knocked a bee out of the air and hit someone in the face with it, and his friend smashed it with his hand. If I were drunk, I wouldn't have enjoyed the drunk people as much. Weird being a straightedge kid at a party, but it was cool. We got our keyboard. We took Megan and Kara to Kara's house. It's almost like Tegan and Sara, ya know? Only they aren't lesbian sisters...
So that was my night, minus some details of people being fucking retarded. I went to Brittney's house and we stayed up 'till 4 on computers. Then! we woke up in time to get to Jason's by 1 pm. And then we recorded until like 6 and I came home and slept! It was really a nice couple of days. We've done a lot of recording in the past two days. Very productive. If someone wants to tell on me for being at a party, then they're stupid. Just sayin'. The only law I break is uhh...I steal forks from the high school. I was just having a nice day off and I don't think I should have to defend myself.
Anyway! This entire weekend was pretty badass. On Friday, Zane had a birthday party because it was his birthday. He's 15 now. He's been doing a little better recently, which is nice. On Saturday, I shoved horse manuer out of the back of a truck. Talk about a shit ton. Then I got paid $20 for it, took a shower, and went to Jim's where I hung out with Jim, Tim, Nick, Alex, and Amanda and we made movies. Here's an example of the movies they (and sometimes we) make.
I think I speak for all of us when I say that I want to continue making movies regularly because it's a lot of fun and I need something else other than music in my life, not that there's anything wrong with music.
I still haven't solved the Insubordination Fest problem yet. Grrr. I did buy tickets to see No Doubt and Paramore, if I didn't say that. Umm...and I Forget will be releasing a single from the new album soon. Keep your eyes and ears open! It's gonna be good! I won't tell you which song it is yet, but it has something to do with selling out.
I think that's all I've got for you tonight.
Friday, May 22, 2009
I am officially going to see Paramore and No Doubt. This is where my 8th subscriber unsubscribes because I've proven myself to be not as cool as he thought. It's true, I'm a little more concerned about making a certain girl happy by taking her to see her precious Paramore than I am the fact of attending a Paramore show. No Doubt is playing, though, it's in DC on the same day as the gay pride parade, and we payed $30 for two tickets including shipping and bull shit convenience charges. Convenience charges are fucking bullshit. "Since you support the music and concert so much that you're going to buy your ticket in advance, we're going to charge you a fee!" What a kick to the teeth. If anything, I think they should charge more at the door. What a crock of shit. Anyway, to make this official as possible, Kyle Wagoner is taking Kathryn Mullan to see No Doubt and Paramore in Washington, D.C. on June 14th.
Anyway, I'm sure you want an explaination to how this came about. Well, it's not a great one, but this is how it happened. Well it just so happens that I was very fond of Kathyrn Mullan over the course of time she lived in Fort Ashby this past winter and was quite upset when she moved back to Williamsport (see: every blog I've written before this one) and I felt like being an ass and texting her the other day. I started singing "Two Tickets to Paradise" in my head, so I had this great line to lay on her. I texted her saying, "I wrote a new song just now. It goes 'I got...two tickets to Paramore!" (I later added the line "The music's not what I'm going for.") She says, "No way!" I said something to the effect of, "No, you're right. I don't. But you'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe I'll look into it." So I did. Paramore was still on tour with No Doubt, so that let me classify it as doable. I checked the dates when they were around and checked with my aunt and June 14th just happened to work out perfectly. That's how it happened. Now it's on.
And if that didn't get rid of the guy that subscribed to me, then get this. I like the new Green Day album. You know what isn't cool anymore? Telling everyone how much you hate Green Day. At one point, that was like rebelling against the rebels, but now you're part of the "I listen to too much radio and MTV for my own good" mob. Serves you right, you media-consumed dipshit. You'll never convince me that mainstream music is meant to be listened to for more than 2 hours a month. Anyway, Green Day were on The Colbert Report last night and I watched the full episode today (since I was doing homework while it was on last night). I still believe they are keeping it real and I hope that they one day leave their label. That'd be great, eh? Of course, why should they leave their label? They can do whatever the hell they want period. They don't give a shit how "punk" they look to everyone down at punknews.org. We all know All Time Low is a much more serious epidemic than the latest Green Day release. Green Day is just being Green Day; the same Green Day that put out Dookie in 1994. They've just got more experience and fame now, that's all. I really don't see the huge deal about that as long as they aren't selling their sound to the label like Rise Against did. Makes me cringe...
Anyway, now that I'm done trying to justify why listening to Green Day isn't the 8th deadly sin, I'll say that 21st Century Breakdown is a fine mix between Warning, American Idiot, classic rock, and Nimrod in that particular order. TONS of Warning traces. I'll go so far as to say they rip themselves off frequently. Is that better than ripping Dillinger Four off for their title track as they did on American Idiot (hear "doublewhiskeycokenoice")? It's arguable, but it's good. I really can't complain. It's Green Day and no one's going to take Green Day away from me. It's also a lot less "un-punk" than everyone was making it out to be. I'd say it's at least 80% punk or very punk-influenced/punk-based and is definitely 100% Green Day. They're the band that got me where I am today. They changed my life and that is no overstatement. I think anyone trying to find punk in the '90s/early '00s can see where I'm coming from.
So to all of you Green Day haters: find a new hobby. Pick on a band that really has never done anything positive for music (i.e. every band I put down). I put down a lot of fucking bands because I'm a self-proclaimed music Nazi. Girls and music. That's all I'm about. What else is there to think about? The elections are over. Obama is doing mediocre work as all presidents are supposed to do, I think. I don't know; I haven't really been following him. School, recording an album with I Forget, and trying to get girl situations sorted out have been consuming all of my efforts and time.
We had a jazz and concert band concert at school last night. I played drums well, but would have played my drum set a lot better if there were a rug under it and I didn't have to chase my bassdrum across the floor while playing. Sum'bitch. I probably should have actually written something for my 16-bar drum solo. I'm so mediocre sometimes. I'll work myself when I feel like it.
Alex determined that I'm a lot like Holden Caulfield. I have no problem with that. Holden is very real. I'm a less drunk, more movie-appreciative Holden with musical capabilities. I can totally live with that. Oh, and I'm not a virgin like Holden and I go to a real school. Okay, so lifestyle-wise, I'm nothing like Holden, but we think and talk alike. If you want to know the truth, that's totally cool with me.
Blink-182 aren't having Weezer with them when they come near us! Goddammit! I really want to see Weezer!!!! I want to see them both, but I don't think I'll go pay for blink-182 without my Weezer. I'm not THAT prepared to go put up with teenie fans. Plus, I'm sure I could stand to be with blink-182/Weezer fans way before I could blink-182/Fall Out Boy fans. You know what I'm gettin' at, eh? I feel like I have to background check myself for this guy that subscribed to me. I should be keeping my cool! Kyle, he's jsut some random guy you don't know that you have to impress; be cool, don't give him your history on bands. He can read it himself. Okay, for the record, my three favorite bands are Propagandhi, Dillinger Four, and Alkaline Trio. You got that, guy? Good. I've no shame at all for loving the shit out of those three bands. Toys That Kill is probably fourth.
Okay, but on a more serious note, I have to get to bed because I'm thinking about working for my mom tomorrow so I can make a few bucks. Gotta have money for these shows I love to attend and these CDs I still buy. I Forget will be recording on Sunday and all. fucking. day. on Monday, apparently. Stoked.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
So what's new with me? Well there's a decent chance I'm going to see Paramore and No Doubt. Yes, I'm slightly disgusted at myself, too, for the former, but we'll give it a shot. I won't give any other details unless it's been confirmed and my tickets are on the way. No Doubt will be amazing regardless.
What the fuck else? No one probably read my story thing. It was based on the Great Gatsby movie, so people that aren't familiar with The Great Gatsby probably had no idea what I was talking about, but it was for English class and everyone in there knew what it was about. Plus, Bill Buckner was a little ahead of Holden Caulfield's time, I know, but Mr. Alkire is a sports fan, and particularly a baseball fan, so it pleased him.
Green Day's new album is out and I still have to go get it. Everyone tells me I should just download it or not buy it at all, but it's like...it's Green Day, come on. It doesn't matter how commercial it sounds, it's Green Day. And the show Bones is saying that Black Beard the Pirate buried his treasure on Assateague Island. That's where I go to vacation with my dad. I find it strange that anyone on TV knows where the hell it is. It's the opposite of commercial. And it brings me to my next topic.
My dad has vacation to Assateague and Chincoteague Islands the week of Insubordination Fest, so I don't know what the fuck I'll do. It's Toys that Kill and Dillinger Four and a bunch of other bands, but they don't matter once you say D4 and TTK. How am I supposed to pass that up? If I see Paramore but not D4 and TTK, I'll be pissed at myself. I've seen D4 twice in the past 6 months, but I don't give a FUCK. This is a completely different thing. And D4 is my fave. Or one of my faves. Whatever. I gotta go. I'm really stressed out about it.
I. Hate. Vacations. You know what I'd be happiest doing in the summer? Touring with I Forget. All over the fucking country. But no. We can barely play our shows at home because of conflicting vacation dates. I don't want to go on vacation. It's not a break for me. It's stressful. A break is staying at home and hanging out with my friends and playing shows over the summer. Going to the beach with the family is the opposite of chill. It's fucking far way and I can't keep in contact with people and it's just...I don't like it. I'd rather go 6 hours to see Against Me! than go to the beach. Seriously. No competition. Nothing against the beach, but it's stressful going with my family. Do I make myself clear?
So I don't know what's going to happen...but I'll keep you updated just for records' sake. Speaking of records....I think we finished a song or two at Jason's on Monday. We also threw one out for this album. Maybe we'll bring it back later.
I have nothing to talk about!!!! I'm a horrible, horrible blogger and when I have off days, I don't have any advice to give because I have no one to ask for it! Brendan told some guy how to get his girlfriend back today. He's great at advice. I'm gonna start a Bredan Kelly religion. Maybe that's weird.
Do people dig up dead bodies and fuck on them?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
If there’s one thing I hate more than bad movies, it’s good books made into bad movies. As if movies aren’t doing enough damage to begin with, they start taking it out on my favorite stories. This is a rare account of a time I saw one that didn’t put a book to shame.
So what happened was I called up old Sally. I figured she might have gotten over all that proposal crap I tried to pull on her the other day. I’m such a moron sometimes. I swear I am. I also know she can’t resist a movie. That kills me. She really can’t wait to go waste her time in a movie. “Who’s this?” she said on the phone.
“Listen, it’s Holden. How’s about we go see another movie today. Give it another wack. Whaddaya say?”
“I don’t know, Holden…,” she was telling me.
“I’ve alrighty got the tickets. It’s The Great Gatsby.” She’d be dying to see that one. I was almost positive they were going soil it, but the things you do for a girl.
“Well, okay. What time did you say it was?” She had that uncertain tone to her voice, but I could tell the movie was killing her.
“I didn’t. I figured we’d go to the 4 o’clock showing. Does that sound okay?” I can be such a phony sometimes. It’s terrible. Our conversation went on for a few more minutes, but that’s pretty much all that really was said. We shot the bull for the sake of wasting our morning. I don’t know what my problem is sometimes. Maybe we’re born with the instinct to smile and keep talking to avoid awkward good-bys. I don’t know; maybe it’s not important.
When I got off the phone with Sally, I decided to head off to the park. Phoebe was still in school and I was waiting for my next semester to start at this point. My mom and dad made me enroll in another private school. I hate it when parents think they always know what’s best for you because they think they grew up the perfect way or they’ve pinned down everything they did wrong as a kid and want their kids to avoid it. It’s so annoying, but there really isn’t anything you can do.
I decided I could use the exercise and was tired of taxi drivers not knowing the answers to my questions, so I walked to the park. It really wasn’t all that far from where I was, anyway. And most people were at work or in school at the time, so I didn’t have to worry about too much traffic on the roads or the streets. But the people that you do see on the street when you’re not in school give you the worst looks. How are they even sure how old I am? They just have this sense to them, I guess, and know that you should be in school, but for some reason you’re ditching and giving you the eye will make you want to go back to school. It’s annoying as hell. It really is.
I decided to sit on the bench and see what watching the birds was all about. You always see the old people sitting and watching or feeding the birds on the benches and they seem to be happy spending their whole day there. I still don’t get it.
I wasn’t feeling all that hungry, but I couldn’t really remember the last thing I ate or when I last ate, so I decided to leave the park. There weren’t even groups of kids with their teachers looking at the monuments that day. I was looking all over for something I hadn’t seen before, but you can only go someplace so many times until you know where every goddam rock in the place is. The only thing I found was a penny—tails-up. I really don’t believe in any of that superstitious crap, but I didn’t want to take the risk for something as stupid as a penny. You never know when you need luck, even if it’s all made up. I flipped it heads-up so that the next person that found it could maybe have a chance at luck.
It was coming near 2:30 or so, so I decided that it maybe was a better idea not to go to a restaurant. I bought a hot dog off of some vendor. The guy’s name was Stan. He had horrible facial hair and a wrinkly forehead. I couldn’t help but wonder how often his beard hair got in people’s hot dogs. Then I wondered how many people gave their hot dogs back, and how many threw them away at the next corner, and how many actually had the nerve to eat their hot dogs anyway. I thought about asking Stan, but I wouldn’t appreciate it if someone asked me such a goddam horrible thing like that.
So anyway, I got to the theatre a half an hour before the movie started. Sally was late, as usual. “Holden! It’s so nice to see you!” It was as if she hadn’t seen me a few weeks ago when we did this same thing. She dressed to kill again, which was working on me. Maybe it is insanity to do the same thing twice and expect a different result.
“Hey, Sal. We better get in there soon before we miss anything good.” As if I really cared what part of any movie we missed out on seeing.
“Oh! Should we buy popcorn!”
“Do you see that line? Do you really want to wait through that?” She was really torn. She acted as if she was making a goddam life decision.
“Oh, okay,” she said to me. She took my hand and started running to the theatre. You’d have thought there was a crime scene around her house with a big crowd gathered and she wanted to know what was going on the way she ran.
So the movie starts like this: good old Nick rolls up in his paddle boat and Tom, that son-of-a-bitch, jumps off his high horse and welcomes him and all that happy crap. I have to admit, the actors did a pretty good job. Tom was a bastard and Nick was this normal-dressed guy trying not to ever say too much. Nick didn’t even try to blend in. He was always dressing lower-class than any of the people.
Jay Gatsby didn’t even come in the movie until it was half over. I wasn’t sure we were in the right theatre there for a while. Sally kept making annoying “aww” noises every time Gatsby would mention Daisy or the other way around. I hate that. I don’t even know what it is I hate, I guess it’s just annoying how she puts what everyone’s thinking into noises. It’s like listening to your own brain talk. It’s really annoying, especially if your brain sounds like Sally. Gatsby was super awkward, too. He was like a cross between Ackley and Stradlater. Cool on the outside like Stradlater, but a very vulnerable Ackley on the inside. I didn’t think he and Daisy were ever going to say a word to each other. I thought Nick was going to go to bed with them still staring at each other in his living room.
And oh, the movies these days! They’re getting very graphic. At one point, Tom punched Myrtle right in the face! They showed it, too! I mean, yeah, she had it coming to her. She kept chanting “Daisy! Daisy!” until Tom lost his temper. He probably lost it up Myrtle’s bloody nose when he punched her. Now that I think of it, Tom is probably the kind of guy Stradlater’s gonna grow up to be and I’m gonna be old Gatsby getting shot over Jane. That would be terrible.
The movie was okay, I must admit. I hadn’t read The Great Gatsby in a while and when I was younger, I didn’t fully understand everything that was going on in the book, so the movie kind of helped. I sound like a goddam jock now. Anyway, I felt really bad for Gatsby. He thought he had everything in his hands and it all slipped away just like it did for Bill Buckner. I guess it just goes to show that you can never be too sure of yourself.
Of course, the movie ended with everything falling apart, as all good books are written. Daisy runs over Myrtle, Myrtle’s husband thinks Tom did it, Tom tells him that the owner of the car was Gatsby, and Myrtle’s husband kills Gatsby. Then, to really make it interesting, after killing Gatsby, he stares at his dead body in the pool and wonders what he’d done.
Growing up, Allie, D.B., and I used to travel out to the country during the summer and stay at a farm house. We’d stay with our Aunt Sue and Uncle Scott and help them with the chores. Mom and Dad said it was so we’d learn responsibility or some stupid crap, but I don’t believe it. I think Aunt Sue and Uncle Scott were just looking for any help they could get. Jesus, they’d make us do everything they didn’t want to do.
They had raccoon problems with eating their chickens and all, so they set up these live animal traps that caught the raccoons but didn’t kill them. I didn’t really understand why you’d want to catch a raccoon just to kill it later. But that’s how these things worked. So when we got there, we had to set them up. Well one of them had a dead chicken inside of it when I found it. I immediately felt guilty, though I was fairly sure it wasn’t my fault. I was trying to remember if I’d left the trap open from the year before and a chicken went to roost and got caught in the trap and no one noticed and it just died there. It’d been dead for a while. It was just feathers, beak, and bones. Even though I was almost certain I wasn’t responsible, I felt like I had done a horrible thing. I looked at that pile of feathers and bones and wished I could be in that pile. It was depressing as hell. It really was.
When Myrtle’s husband, I really can’t think of his name, saw what he’d done to Gatsby, he obviously wanted to do the same to himself. That’s when he put the gun in his mouth and shot his brains out! Of course, there was a curtain in the way of the camera because kids could be watching the movie somewhere and also they probably couldn’t really blow someone’s brains out for a movie. I don’t know, maybe if Hollywood pays someone enough, they’ll do anything even if it means blowing their brains out.
When the movie was over, old Sally was crying her eyes out. “Like a baby” Tom said. That killed me. I felt like I was taking Daisy out of the movies with me. And like Daisy, Sally was instantly laughing at something else and running off to greet people she hardly knew. I wondered if the people she was talking to were relatives of the folks in the book. East and West Egg aren’t that far away from here. Talk about depressing as hell, Jesus Christ! What a bunch of phonies we have around here.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
So here's the follow up to yesterday's post. We've caught two of our cats in the live animal trap so far, but not the one we're aiming for yet. So hopefully the two that have already been caught will be wise enough not to try eating the food in the cage again and the cat we want will come be a fool. About the dead chicken I found yesterday, well my mom called me while I was on the toilet, because moms always call at the most inopportune times. I didn't answer; I heard the phone from across the house and I still had to shit. So then she called me via my cellphone, which was in my shirt pocket (it's a flannel, I'm not really one of those guys that wears the t-shirts with pockets). I answered it and she told me that the chicken my sister had told her I was worried about was killed by a raccoon and didn't starve to death in the cage. That made me feel a lot better. I'd hate to think that it really was left to die in that cage with no one noticing its presence.
I went up to my aunt Kandi's house today. I think it's with a K. Anyway, my aunt Cris offered to make her and my cousin, Shandi, dinner this evening with my brother Zane. So I decided I'd go up and eat with them because I had nothing else to do on a Tuesday night since my mom went off to Myrtle Beach for the week. Well, let me start by saying that I am out of shape and need to start running and working out a little more this summer. I ran from my house all the way to my aunt's and was caughing and hypervenalating and all that jazz. It almost killed me, I swear. Anyway, so there was that. I don't get to see Kandi or Shandi very much anymore, so it was nice getting to see them and get to spend some time with them. I need to buy my ticket to Insubordination Fest.
So while we were there, we told lots of stories and shit to each other and laughed and laughed. It was a good time. Then my brother decided he needed to come out to them. That's always fun. This is how it happens when my brother decides to come out to someone: he starts talking about having a secret. He then tells someone that already knows to tell the people that don't know in the room what he's thinking. The people that already know refuse to tell because that's just kinda awkward, making the whole thing more awkward. Zane then gets really fucking goofy and avoids saying it, but won't change the subject. He just says "Guess! You know!" and no, they don't have any idea of what he's talking about. In this particular case, my aunt Cris eventually told Kandi and Shandi that he's gay for him and then he said, "You still love me, right?" and then started bawling his eyes out instantly. It's really rough to watch and he's geniunely concerned he's going to burn in a made-up hell. He's okay after a while though, and then gets confident and wants to start telling everyone, which, in this part of the world, is a bad idea in a lot of cases. And to think being gay is a choice? Why would anyone want to go through that voluntarilly?
I like you, blog. You make me happy inside. Alkaline Trio left their label, did I tell you? They've been using their soundcheck time to work on new material. Skiba says they're making a punk record. I am, needless to say, fucking stoked that they're doing an independent release and it's going to be a punk record. It's pretty much going to kill me, I'm pretty sure. American Steel are finished recording their new record, too, which is going to kick my ass. God, I love music so much. Here are my favorite bands: Propagandhi, Dillinger Four, Alkaline Trio, The Lawrence Arms, American Steel, Toys That Kill, Descendents, Dead to Me, blink-182, Weezer, NOFX, and whoever the fuck else I feel like! God, I especially love that first bunch, though. I can't get over how deeply I love certain bands and how amazing it is that I'm jealous of every type of sound they have. I hope I Forget makes me that jealous and proud one day. I love to be jealous of myself and wish I could always write songs perfectly. I Forget has maybe done it 3 or 4 times, I feel.
I'm doing a PowerPoint Presentation on Alkaline Trio in Computer Applications II.
I just joined a group on Facebook called "The word 'gay' is not a synonym for 'stupid'." And it's not. It really bothers me when someone says "That's gay," "Shut up, faggot," or "He's acting like a queer" because intentionally or not, you're being very offensive to someone around you.
Still gotta write my Holden narrative thing. I shouldn't put it off much longer. I think I'm gonna sleep and get a bath sometime tomorrow.
Monday, May 11, 2009
I haven't been posting much of anything, have I? Mr. Alkire gave us a free day last Friday. That happens once ever NEVER, but we'd just taken the AP English exam the day before, so I guess he felt pity for us. The exam was kind of brutal. Jimmy kind of wrote bullshit for his answers. I didn't already say this, did I? I should really read my own blogs before I post more. Anyway, so we spent Friday in Mr. Alkire's watching The Great Gatsby. The guy who played Nick Carraway was the guy from Law and Order. He's old now. He looked like a cross between Keanu Reeves and Steve Carell in the Great Gatsby. He was also passive. At one point, Tom punched Myrtle right in the fucking face and her nose bled. Fucking. Hilarious.
Belle told me to write my paper in which I have to use the voice of Holden Caulfield on finding that dead chicken. I think I totally will consider that. I think that assignment will be very fun. I'd love to write as Holden. I really would. But finding that dead chicken was depressing as hell.
I slept so well today. I was supposed to go feed the animals after school, but I figured I'd sleep for a few hours and then do it. I was so goddamn tired. When I woke up, my aunt called and told me that she and my brother had already fed them all. Some of the animals had gotten out because they were hungry and I wasn't there to feed them. I feel like a fucking failure sometimes.
I drove on the interstate the other day. I "raced" Nick, which translates as "drove along side of Nick." It felt like racing, though. It was fun. I don't so much mind driving. I saw Officer Jefferies at the post office the other day when I'd driven down to buy stamps and mail something for my mother. When I pulled out, I squeeled the wheels on accident. I thought for sure he was going to pull out his handgun and shoot me through the head. I keep having nightmares about that man. It's not really anything against him, I just hate cops and authority. It's not even that I hate following the law or any shit like that, I just get nervous as hell when I'm around them and the mall cops always harrass you to the point of being annoyed by anyone in uniform.
I've really been getting into Saves the Day. They kicked some ass live. Not Alkaline Trio's, of course, and I'm not just being biased. But Alkaline Trio and Saves the Day beat the hell out of the first two bands. No one was digging the first band, Drive A. It was their first day on the tour with them and their singer seemed very nervous. Maybe he's always like that. I was going to buy one of their CDs until I tried talking to their singer and he wouldn't talk. I don't like when frontmen are shy. The second band, Single File, fucking blew. They had one good chorus and that was the only thing they did that I cared about at all. The rest was shitty scene music in which I could come in with the backing vocals on the second lines of each part of the song along with the drummer. So fucking predictable and lame. I probably should have spoken about this earlier, but the fact is that any band other than Alkaline Trio from that show haven't meant anything to my life until just recently when I downloaded some Saves the Day. The song in 6/8 that hit me like a truck is called "What Went Wrong" and it was way better live than the recorded version because the recorded version is old and the vocals in the chorus are sang without a lot of confidence, which takes away from it. I don't like when frontmen are shy.
Brendan Kelly has way more followers and regular readers than I do. I wish I had people asking me for advice and shit about my life as much as he does. I'm really lucky when I get 2 comments. Comment on this; Timmy told me to say it:
Katie, I want my dick in you.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I got a new computer today. I'm using it now. I'm also laying in bed. That should indicate that it's a laptop if you're good enough to put foot and shoe together. But I'm just joining the crowd even more with this new bit of technology.
Oh! About the Alkaline Trio show I wouldn't shut up about for the past few weeks. I realize I haven't posted a blog in like a week. Well to be honest, I had a very busy weekend...seeing Alkaline Trio, playing a show in Virginia, and having the car break down on us on the way home from Virginia. So I'll start with the Alk3 show.
Well, it was fucking amazing. Way better than I anticipated. They were spot on. One single the whole night and the rest were fucking random songs (aside from ending with the epic Radio). Fucking. Amazing. You can go to Youtube and search "Alkaline Trio Sonar" and find video footage of the show that people have left. Kierston and I were right up against the railing. It was the best performance I think I've ever seen. At one point, someone threw a beer bottle at Matt Skiba's head. He didn't flinch, smiled as it flew by, pointed at the guy who threw it, winked, and kept playing and singing. Amazing.
Oh, and we got to meet Matt Skiba and Dan Andriano. For the record, no, he is not dead. I touched him, spoke to him, have his writing, and pictures with him to prove it. If you want to see pictures, I have a few on my MySpace page. Matt and Dan were really fucking nice. Matt was the most sincerely nice person I think I've ever met. They were just great and I can hardly believe what I'm looking at when I see pictures of me with them. Unfortunately, we did not get to meet Derek. Probably Karma from spelling his name wrong on this blog the one time. I'm such a fucking dolt.
Epic, epic show. And the next day, we drove to Virginia to play the most epic show we could muster up. And I think the end result was pretty good. I fucking missed playing with Freak Scene/Freaky J and the Bears/whatever the hell you want to call them. Going to an I Forget/Freaky J show is not nearly as grueling as it used to be. It's getting to be quite a show, if I do say so myself. They are getting so good. It's like I'm watching my children grow up. I Forget is alright, but we haven't been terrible in a while. We played for about 20 kids and adults. We got paid $40 for it. Then we went into the parking lot where we sang songs from musicals and where I climbed a tree and screamed like a monkey and did the little "I AM THE WORKER MAN! GOTTA GET SOME SEEDS!" bit. Then we went and spent the night at Jordan's house where we got to meet Spike, a 17-year-old cat that might as well be a mobile taxidermy. Very limited mobility, though. It was skin, bones, and clumps of fur. Awesome cat. Funny as hell to watch it fall on its fucking face trying to jump on a chair.
I told my dad we'd be home the next morning by 10 am. That meant we had to wake up at 7 am. I didn't go to bed until after 4. I was busy running around naked and watching shit on Youtube. It was a fun night...not such a fun ride home...where the car broke down 3 or 4 times and I didn't get back to my dad's house until 2 pm. I called to explain, though, so no hard feelings.
That was my weekend. I got a computer just recently. I read Catcher in the Rye. I have an AP English exam tomorrow. Katie invited me to her graduation party on the 31st. I think I'll attend. Other than that, I'm pretty sure there's nothing very soon I have to look forward to, except I can sleep when I'm done writing this. That, and I have my own computer to use whenever and wherever I'm at. Fucking awesome, eh? School's almost over, too, which will be such a good breather.
Okay, so nothing too insightful here, I guess. Just a collection of the recent events. Bummer, too, because I had a lot of feelings I wanted to spit out earlier that I can't remember. One thing I'll say is that crying is the best invention ever. I feel that every time you cry, you become a different person. I at least do. I cry a lot anymore, too. It, unfortunately, is often triggered by reality TV shows where they switch wives or some shit. The more believable ones, not Date My Mom or any MTV bullshit. I don't watch anything MTV puts out.
I really need to sleep because I have jazz band in the morning and then an exam that's gonna rape my mind. I fucking hate AP English. I don't like school at all, I don't think. I'll tell you about my personal feelings when I remember them, I guess. I'm very emotional, so don't get the idea that I have no feelings.