"No longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick"

My wife's friend was just dropped off at our house, crying as we met her. Her boyfriend had verbally assaulted her on the car drive over to the point where she jumped out of a (slowly) moving car. Her desire not to listen to Rage Against the Machine was the culprit this time. Instead of a weekend trip to the zoo, she is without a car, respect, and probably boyfriend and roommate. I once jumped out of a moving car from a verbal lashing. I got three cuts on my arms and shoulders, as well as ruined my wallet, a gift from my family. It really sucked, but life moved on. I never respected the person the same way though. The person was not my lover, but a long time friend. I don't know how much of a glutton for punishment this girl is, but this isn't the first time, and if given another chance, it probably won't be the last.

Life is not a movie
Nor is it a video game
Actions have consequences
Spoken words bring action
Do not fuck with me
I don't live in a movie

I believe that beat driven music has been the future of music for some time now, at least 50 or 60 years or so. None of my teachers at SDSU seem to understand this. I don't mean that it's just the future of popular music, I mean it's the future of serious composition as well. This is what I've been realizing over the past few months. The beat complexity in some new music is just as complex and thought out as any Bach melody.

I shouldn't have to justify this but given my current surrounding I feel I do. I also feel that my commentary is old news to a lot of people- hey, at least I'm getting with the program, better late than never. What I'm really trying to do is predict the future of music. It appears that all new music of value is scorned by the old school because it is too simplistic and can be explained away even to a non-musician in a matter of hours. That opinion, to me, is the height of naivete at best and at worst, the height of elite arrogance.

The world is a snail, crawling across the pavement on a rainy day.
With instinct, it rushes into the great unknown
Maybe it will be better this time
Maybe there is more to life than standing still
Getting fat off the land
Hiding safely in the planter, eating flowers
The snail fears the summer heat
But he is fooled by the gentle rain
It sees its window of opportunity and charges
Foolish, foolish snail
You could not get out of the way of my shoe

FUTILITY ON THE MOVE

As I sit here and ploddingly chip away at the leaning tower of items in my inbox waiting to be shipped all over the country, I ponder the stupidity of what I get paid for. Things arive, stay a while and then eventually go back to whence they came. I am just a layover in a vast pointless loop around the country. In New York someone signs a paper, sends it here to San Diego, someone looks at it and possibly stamps it PRIORITY, it ends up on my desk (in reality a dowdy folding picnic table with a computer on it) and I send it back. Many times I have wondered about typing a shipping slip, wrapping myself up and send myself along on a journey arriving at some dumfounded idiot's door punching them in the face affix a return slip to my forehead and arrive home the next day refreshed.

Another Myth of Manhood

Another myth of manhood
is that we have no emotions
that we are all beer-swilling, ass-smacking pigs
entirely incapable of sympathy
or empathy
well,
that’s bullshit
go ahead
try to explain that
to the desperate man
who just committed suicide
he can’t hear you

Last night a man got stabbed across the street from my apartment. I'm not blaming George W. Bush for it but I think he's making harder for me to move out of the fucking neighborhood.

I read in Time magazine that Donald Rumsfeld says we're spending 3.9 billion dollars a month to occupy Iraq. Meanwhile the government is decreasing education funding to such an extent that some of the classes I need to graduate are no longer being offered.

How am I supposed to persue happiness when a rich man takes part of my wages and uses it to fund a war, rather than my education?

I can't help but feel that if we weren't still slaves to a master, subjects to a monarch, serfs to a tsar, our soldiers would stop fighting and come back to their homes.

Bj's gay porno crazed ramblings?

Whenever I'm in a relationship, I freak out. I feel trapped when I can't communicate with the person I'm with. I was expressing this to Greg earlier today. He made me laugh despite myself:

De : DOUZON Gregory
A : tom amans
Objet : RE:______La_dinde_va_passer_à_la_casserole_:))

Get your pussy out of my seat !! I don't remember to who I spoke in these words (the words you taught me of course Hé hé hé) Was it Aaron or maybe Ray ?? I can't remember !

I see she is the one who tries to kill you by fucking over and over again... Pretty tough Thomas... A year of extreme fucking and still alive ?!!! Dammit !!! That's good !!


De : tom amans
A : DOUZON Gregory
Objet : RE:______La_dinde_va_passer_à_la_casserole_:))

No it's the opposite! I think I fuck her too much.

It's almost impossible to be subtle with that woman. If I want something from her I have to ask her very bluntly, many times. By the time she understands, I'm already very pissed off. Communication breakdown.

You said that to Bob. He still remembers it because he got totally destroyed!

De : DOUZON Gregory
A : tom amans
Objet : RE:______La_dinde_va_passer_à_la_casserole_:))

Oh Yeah Bob...

Ok I got it. You want to have the anus experience, right ? Well don't ask...and say you are sorry after...I mean when she stop howling STOOOOOOOOP

I need to go home and stop saying obscenities
I'm sure it's because Marilyn Manson..Be obscene..Be obscen..I like
this song..M Hé Hé Hé
Have a nice day Tom !

And don't forget : "Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien" !!!!


De : tom amans
A : DOUZON Gregory
Objet : RE:______La_dinde_va_passer_à_la_casserole_:))

Greg, you're...amazing.


De : DOUZON Gregory
A : tom amans
Objet : RE:______La_dinde_va_passer_à_la_casserole_:))

I hope I am amazingly funny and not amazingly thick ;-)))
Love
A bientôt !!

Race Relations Part IV

I broke the news to Kelly. She got very upset and said it brought back childhood memories of friends' parents not letting her come over because she's black. She suggested that I go visit my grandparents while she waits with my stepmom.

No fucking way.

It makes me feel so ashamed, so dirty to have these people, so filled with misdirected rage, related to me at all. But I guess we don't choose our hands, do we? Aw fuck that platitude bullshit, I wonder what they would say if i was dating a black MAN. I mean, come on gramps, it's not THAT bad...

I got a response from my grandparents. It was very concise; thank you for the warning and yes, a visit would be very uncomfortable at this time. Maybe later.

I think racism is an extreme form of displacement. Someone feels so badly about themselves or so completely not in control of their lives that hatred becomes an outlet. How else could someone despise the presence of someone they've never met and disown a family member? I dunno; it hurts more than I thought it would. That's probably why I was avoiding it.

I just want to explain to my grandfather that poon is poon. Black, white, brown- it all feels good. After that, it's all about what's attached to it; can you have a stimulating conversation with it, does it make you laugh, does it still love you after the hard times, when you curse and scream in a drunken fit?

I made the mistake of reading an article on MSN about whiteness studies. The concept of race usually annoys me and this was no exception. I did a Google search on whiteness and found this website:



Apparently their mission is "to deliver a simple, sincere, message about ethnic stereotyping", by ethnic stereotyping. I thought it was pretty funny. At first glance I think someone could mistake it for a white supremacist site OR an anti-white site.

Ethnic stereotyping is usually okay with me, as long as it's funny. I'm thinking of sending my grandparents a Fighting Whites t-shirt for Christmas, just to mess with their heads.

I'm going to visit my dad in August. He recently moved to an island several hundred yards off the coast of North Carolina. My maternal grandparents live on the same island a few miles away.
I would like to see them but I'm bringing my girlfriend, and they're flaming racists. Last night, I sent them this letter:

Grammy & Pop:

Hi there, it's me your grandson Tommy. I hope you guys are doing well, I'm doing pretty good out here. I finished the spring semester with a 3.84 so I'm pretty happy, even though I got one (1) B.

Anyhow, I was writing to let you know that I'm going to be coming out to North Carolina in late August and I would love to see you both. I'm bringing my girlfriend Kelly with me. I've been with her for over a year now and she's by far the nicest female I've ever been with. She is also a beautiful black lady; I wanted to let you both know ahead of time so as not to make anyone uncomfortable. I know she would love to meet my whole family and I can't wait to introduce her, but please let me know if you would rather wait until a later date.

your grandson,
Tommy

I swear I've read about this sort of thing before, but I never thought I'd have to deal with it in real life. I wonder if they know that if they don't get over it, they might not ever see me again. Sorry to be so dramatic.

I haven't told my girlfriend yet. Thank god she doesn't read this blog.

My dad used to piss me off a lot when I was a kid but we definitely had good times too. He used to work at a print shop that was situated in a medium-sized business park. There was a pool in the business park and for a few years he took me and my sister there almost every weekend. Looking back I'm not sure why it was so goddamn fun; the pool was pretty small, there were no diving boards or slides, and 9 times out of ten it would only be me, my dad, and my sister. I think it was fun because we made it fun. My dad was always good at conjuring fun out of thin air, if he happened to feel like it.

One afternoon we went to the pool and were dismayed to find a padlock on the gate. My sister and I were distraught until my father suggested we simply remove our festivities to the beach. When we got there, we rolled up all the windows and turned on the heater full-blast. It was already about 90 degrees outside and soon we were all dripping with sweat. I don't remember whose idea that was and I don't remember who was the first to break, but that was probably the only time I've run right from a car straight into the ocean.

Some years later my dad told me that we were never even supposed to be in that pool. Apparently it was the private property of one of the companies in the business park. "I didn't want you guys to worry about it", my dad said.

...the kind of drugs that enhance the pain.

The number of suicides in Japan seems to be about the same as the number of people killed by guns every year in America. I'm going to continue watching Most Extreme Elimination Challenge in hopes of gleaning some insight.

One day I was talking to Bob and he told me that he was afraid of being a Salieri. Sometimes I too wonder if I am damned to a life of mediocrity...and then I think about what would happen if I somehow went back in time and killed Jimmy Page. There would have been no Led Zeppelin. The greatest band in the world- never to be. Robert Plant would have been just another struggling musician who may or may not have ever made anything of himself, just like me. John Bonham would have continued laying pavement and arguing with his wife about quitting the drums. I don't know what would have happened to the other guy. Ha-ha. John Paul Jones would have remained a studio musician until the time came for him to unleash a diabolical, nine-part plan to take over the Avery Shipping Label Company.

It's not my fault I'm not a rock star. I just haven't met the right people.

Goddamn it annoys me when I read myself whining like that. I got a job: ten bucks an hour at a computer company. It's supposed to last at least 2 weeks. I'm sick of complaining. Maybe I just need some more sleep.

Maturity School

I really need to find a job. I've been looking almost everyday; a few interviews with temp agencies and a few applications have been turned in. I guess it's time to start acting as desperate as I really am, which means taking anything that comes along: fast food, retail, telemarketing...

I spent 2 hours playing video games today instead of looking for a job. It was just such a beautiful Sunday.

Since I entered SDSU, I have had to relearn how to provide for myself. It is difficult making ends meet on a fixed income. I did a lot better at it in the spring than I did in the fall, so I'm trying to go easy on myself. Obviously I still have a lot to learn. What confuses me is that before I went back to school full-time, I did it for four years without a major hitch. Even after the life-threatening fire that took almost all of my personal possessions I got back on my feet without ever returning to the bosom of my mother or father's household.

I look at the people I go to school with, most of them several years younger, and can't help but notice the differences in socio-economic standing. Their parents seem to help them with everything. I do not loathe them. I envy them. It's the sort of situation I want to provide for my children.

I've been hanging out with Aaron again. Aaron, I have determined, comes from the most functional family out of my five closest friends, with the exception of Dominic. Aaron's life is financially stable. In the past he has said that I could be where he was if I had really wanted it. I could have done well in college and gotten scholarships. I didn't like high school. I stopped concentrating on school in the sixth grade. Until then I was an excellent student. My parents divorced in high school and it destroyed every illusion I had. It wasn't the sort of thing that I could simply shrug off. So is it my parents fault I am where I am? I don't want to play the blame game. I don't blame anyone for the person I am. The truth is, I don't think I'm that bad of a person. Oh wait, I think I just figured it out: I've spent the better part of a year giving my all, or at least 99% of it, to one thing: school. I got one "B". The rest were "A's". I blocked everything else out: music, reading, writing, personal growth. That's how much I put into and I think now I simply want a return on my investment. The problem is, I don't think there's going to be a pot of gold and/or self-actualization waiting for me when I get my degree.

Nevertheless, I guess what I'm experence may simply be a case of the bends as I rapidly decompress from the pressures of academia.

But, to digress:
Perhaps I have always been on the path to financial mediocrity. After all, my parents have struggled all their lives. My dad doesn't anymore but that is because he married a woman with a master's degree.

Looking back, I think I will get out of here one day. That's why I liked Jay-Z right off the bat. I wanna change. Not all at once, I just wanna keep changing. All I want right now is to make music, my own music in the studio. Maybe I'll play with Dirtbike. Maybe I'll play with and Lee. I just want to pay my bills, pay off my smallest credit card, fix my motorcycle, and maybe get a tattoo.

Maybe I'll hump my girlfriend a few times and take her out to dinner.

...the kind of pain that drugs can't kill.

Renis