Writing class and picking up chicks

I think the two are mutually exclusive, even though there are a few hotties in my Creative Writing class this semester. This could turn out to be a lot of fun. Our first big assignment is a memoir / autobiorgraphy that's 600 - 1000 words. Considering the fact I post to here with whatever's floating around in this fucked-up head of mine, it should be pretty obvious that I'm comfortable with talking about my life, at least to a (theoretically) anonymous crowd. But this class is a little different than a few readers on the internet. A lot of the pieces get workshopped in groups, so that means everyone gets to see it and read it. I don't think I'm afraid of that, I feed off criticism and coming from other writers on my level this should be good. I'm more afraid of what they'll think of me as the writer of said piece. Because, you see, I came up with a title that's sure to piss off people who know me who read it, or at least make them feel a bit resentful towards me. I'm going to call it "All My Friends Are Gone." I don't know about you, but if one of my friends wrote a piece on how he has no friends, I'd get the message we didn't feel the same way about each other. Making it worse is the fact that I don't need these fellow classmates to know about my lack of a social life. And then again, that's not even what I'm writing about. I'm writing about the nature of friends and how they come and go, how the ones that really matter to me are the ones that stick around. So yeah, it might hurt a bit if I say "you're gone" when you're still here. But whatever, more to come on that when I actually get around to writing that hell-raiser.

Picking up girls isn't something I do well. In fact, what the hell am I talking about? It's not something I do at all. A reason for that is because I'm usually alone, and I need some sort of support to accomplish this amazing feat. I've been thinking, and there's really only two types of people to do this with. Those that make me look good, and those that make me look bad. I have one of each for friends, and it may surprise you who is who.

This is my best friend in the whole world, Ken. His site can be found here. We share a mutual hate for each other, and I think it's because we're fairly unique, yet share some key traits that piss us off so much we can't stand the fact that someone else is so much like us that we can't take it anymore and we end up doing to digital equivalant of stabbing each other in the eyes. Conversely, maybe we acknowledge the fact we're different, and we want someone to share in our anger, so basically we squabble about anything from music to girls to politics in an effort to convince the other to be more like us. It could be both.

Anyways, we could never go cruising for women. Ever. We make each other look so bad it's not even funny. As you can see, he's ugly, maybe even more so than me. But that's not all, because not everyone is in to the whole "looks" thing. You see, every third word out of his mouth is "fuck" and he constantly gets worked up over the littlest things. We'll be shooting pool and he'll miss a shot and all of the sudden it's "FUCK! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! HOW THE FUCKING FUCK DID I MISS THAT YOU ASSHOLE!" and I seriously wonder what the bar patrons think of that. I know, he doesn't care, and that's fine. But for my sake, they must be like

Girl 1: "If the fat one is like that, what the hell is the long-haired one like?"
Girl 2: "Who cares? They're both ugly."

Anyways, you might be thinking, "well gee Ken, that's why girls don't like you." To which he would reply: "FUCK YOU!" He claims some girls do, and I don't doubt that at all. But something's telling me it's not his random anger that's impressing the ladies.

Now I also make him look bad. I tend to look like a creep when I go out, with my long hair and leather trench coat. And, maybe, we'll be at a place or meeting some girls that dig HIM and not me, because I tend to make a point of distancing myself from his tastes in those types of situations. Those girls are probably like

Girl 1: "Eww, the long-haired one is creepy looking. What a geek. Why does Ken hang around with that ass clown?"
Girl 2: "Because he's an idiot."

See, it just won't work out. We can only go out and cause a ruckus or play pool and darts in the most horrible, drunken fashion. Which is all fine by me.


That's my roommate Mick. Actually, no it isn't him, it was one of the results for "abercrombie guy" on Google Image Search and it fits him prefectly, because as you can see from the picture he's a flamer holding a teddy bear. We hate each other as well, this time because we're totally different from each other, but we live together anyways. It works somehow. Given the chance, I'd kick him in the sack with my steel-toed boots, especially when he cranks Nelly's new abomination "Air Force Ones." I hate Nelly.

We make each other look good. It's that simple. If Mick decides to drag me to a party, and the girls look at the two of us, it's a win-win situation, mostly for him. He's not the best looking guy, according to him. But he's got image, and that's all he cares about. He's your typical DMB-loving, Abercrombie wearing PETA freak liberal pinko college student, and the chicks love it. He's not too into anything, which just affirms my suspicions that being too extremely into anything isn't a good thing. Like me, I'm too into my music, or porn, or into my own little world. One look at me and Mick looks like Tom Cruise. And that fits as well because Tom Cruise is gay.

I have to turn this around somehow, he has to make me look good too. I think the only way that can happen is because I'm associated with him. He's in a frat (read: homo-erotic group of college boys) so he has instant friends. If I happen to be around, they might think, at least without really talking to me that I'm not that bad of a guy. After all, Mick can stand me. I must have SOMETHING in common with him. The girls might think that too, until I'm being unwillingly introduced to them and they see TOOL on my shirt instead of a brand name, or that may hair isn't frosted or half-spiked, that it instead drifts down to my shoulders. And besides, a guy that has to be introduced is no guy you want to talk to at a party. He has no balls. I've actually been told that. You know what I did? I laughed in her face and shook my head and walked away.

So I guess I should just not look at parties or any other social gathering. The internet works fine for me, I can get to know the person somewhat before they have to see my face. Because I'm like that one episode of Seinfeld where George is trying to con another date with a girl by leaving random things at her house. He says he does it because he knows he's a little annoying at first, you can barely stand him. But after a while he's in her head like a commerical jingle. Granted, Costanza works better than Tryniszewski in the "By Men-nen!" jingle...but it's worth a shot, isn't it?

The boy is back in town

I suppose I should get back to my normal routine after a short burst of drinking and losing myself in my apartment. This semester is going to be a bitch. I hate physics. I don't enjoy reading the memoir of an author who was raped as a college freshman. I don't like it when a professor doesn't have a grasp on the English language. I don't want to hold it against those people; they're only doing their jobs. But I don't see myself enjoying this at all.

What really sucks is that this is all I have to say for now.


Song of the moment - Jimmy Eat World - Just Watch The Fireworks

Radio

After the last post I realized it could stand on it's own, and decided not to do the radio part.

For some reason I started listening to commercial radio again, I suppose mainly because the only station I can pick up in my apartment at school is the alternative station on campus where I have a show. I realize that there is some good stuff out there on commercial radio. Zwan comes to mind, and the new Everclear does also. Of course, if I listen to those stations long enough, I'll get sick of those songs too. Commercial radio never fails to do that.

Like I said, I work at a radio station. Granted, it's a college one, but it's actually run much like a commercial station. We have actual playlists that we play from, and the DJ's pick only 2 songs an hour. Mind you, I'm not counting all the "specialty" shows, I'm talking about the regular alternative and hip-hop shifts. We have about 300 cd's that are in rotation, and about 3 or 4 songs from each cd are good for airplay. This is unlike msot commerical stations that have a list of about 40 songs that they play over and over again, and then other spots in the hour are reserved for "catalogue" hits. I could go into more detail about this, as I learned how station managers plan out each hour. But that's boring.

What's wrong with radio is this: there's no variety anymore. Sure, you can go from a modern rock station, to classic rock, to rap, and on and on. But what was wrong with having all those on one station? There's way too much good music out there...why limit yourself by listening to only one genre? Some of you may be thinking, "Kevin, you idiot! What about Top 40 radio?" Top 40 radio is the worst of all. They only play the newest songs, and with such a small playlist they drive those songs into the ground (where most of them should belong anyways). Alternative radio isn't the answer, either. Indie rock is cool, I'll admit that... but it's not the end-all of music. Alt-radio tends to be free form, which is good, but at the same time they ignore pop music for the most part. I'm not talking the overproduced crap that passes for music on MTV, I'm talking good old fashioned rock and roll. Some of you may know that I have a soft spot for guitar-driven pop (like Weezer)... So neither of those things are the answer. I think radio in general needs to go back to being free form.. they should play music from the 50's - today with a nice balance of oldies, classic rock, blues, country (some, not a lot)., hard rock.. the list goes on and on. I think this would work, because the people I know that actually appreciate music listen to more than just what's popular and current. Wouldn't you like a radio station that's as diverse as your cd and mp3 collection?

I'm only posing as a writer / Radio

I don't know how many times I've said this, but I can't write. I suck. It's not due to lack of praise, I get a lot of compliments about
my writings from an assortment of people. The problem is, after a while I don't believe a word of it. It's hard to when you have trouble writing things down all the time, like when I just want to write for fun. The words just don't come out. It's not writer's block, because I have plenty of ideas. I have at least 4 NOVEL-WORTHY ideas floating around in my head. Four novels would keep most professional authors busy for at least 10 years. But not me... no, I instead choose to spend my time playing GTA3 and listening to music. And then when I sit down I write a paragraph and can't write anymore. It really, really sucks.

Take my short stories for example. I've only written four. That's FOUR in five years of writing. I had a couple I was working on, but those got deleted when hell broke loose on my computer in November. But those sucked anyways, as far as I'm concerned. Now I've received compliments on all of them. That's all fine and good, really, but I dunno. Here's my view on them.

The Day I Got Good At Basketball: I wrote it in 8th grade. Enough said.
Scene From An American Movie: I copped the title from Everclear, I copped the idea from a dream my friend had about me. There's nothing original here.
Untitled Erotica: The response from this one was great. Two people thought it actually happened to me. There really is a Sheena that lived on the first floor of my dorm, but she never said a word to me. Honestly, I tried to write this like an intelligent erotic story.. so I dunno if hornballs would actually enjoy this.

I started one recently (actually it's one of my novel ideas) and I wrote a good 6 pages one night, and I decided to put myself on a regimen of writing 1 hour a night for the break. I did it for two days and stopped...

I shouldn't have to force myself to write. Not having ideas is one thing, but when I have them, I should be able to put down SOMETHING. But I don't.

I've also tried my hand at satire. News satire like The Onion. People thought I actually copied this one from the Onion. Another one actually made it to the ubiquitous FARK.com, though that was back in the days when comment threads rarely reached 100. I can only imagine what would happen if it made it there now...

FARK USER #1: This sucks. It's unfunny.
FARK USER #2: How many times are people going to rip off the Onion?
FARK USER #3: It's unfunny. And it rips off the Onion. Do something original.

As everyone knows, I also write songs, or if you prefer, (because I don't know how to write music) poetry. I call them songs because I write them with a melody in mind, or I write choruses, or if I'm really lucky I can write in a nice big vocal hook. But anyways, I'll admit there's a definite evolution in my songs. If you look at the stuff I was writing when I was 16 (The Girl, In A Hole), and compared it to my newer songs (anything at the top of the page) you'd see a big fuck difference. At least I hope so. But I still look back at most of it and think that none of them would ever work as hit songs, and none of them are "poetic" enough to be considered good poetry. So why bother?

I've tried at other forms of writing too, but I won't go into them in detail. I've written plenty of essays or rants, music reviews; I've even written a one act play. Still, I feel I'm no good. It all comes back to the fact that when I WANT to write, I can't. It's a horrible feeling, and one that I'm sure I'll have to deal with in years to come.

This sucks

I'm a whore for money, some people know that and other people think I'm a communist. I tend to lean towards the whore side myself. I can't explain why else I would come back to Northwestern Mutual time and time again to get up at 6:45am and deliver mail to people who could give two shits about me. So I need money, because I'm dumb and spent a large amount on food and stupidity. No one hires over Christmas break, understandably... I mean, most normal college people got jobs in their hometowns while in high school and kept them through college. I didn't, so I get screwed come break time and summers.

My dad had a splendid idea. Why not go down to Labor Ready, a temp agency (kind of) where they pay cash at the end of the day for a hard day's work of scraping shit off the ground or gutting pigs at the Patrick Cudahy plant. Sounds good to me, hard work doesn't scare me... not when I need money. I said, I'm a whore. But I go there, and discover that the kind of money whores that go there are of the variety that are ADDICTED TO CRACK. It turns out their offices open at 5:30 AM. I understand work usually starts early in the morning, but nobody except for farmers and drunks should be up that early. I don't want a job that bad, not for 5.75 an hour.

In other news, I ate at Cousins' subs and had a wonderful meatball and cheese... it was wonderful until about halfway home I feel a small tactical nuclear wepaon go off in my stomach. I realize no one really wants to hear this. Posts like this about the most inane details of one's life are the reasons online diaries/journals/blogs/general wastes of bandwidth get made fun of so much... but JESUS CHRIST ON A CRUTCH my body can't seem to decide whether it wants to take a big watery shit or hack up a gallon of phlegm with a chunk of lung. It has yet to do either of them. Bastard. That last horrible mental image has been bouncing around my head. Actually on my morning walk to labor ready (at about 7:00AM) I had many visions, including "walking across the vast wasteland of the ghost town to go to work with a bunch of drug addicts and alcoholics" or "an interview in a cool magazine for my debut novel that's now a best seller." Guess which one happened. Oh yeah, and I got around finally to thinking about that one fantasy with that one girl who goes to a college relatively far away considering I'm not well traveled. You know who you are. It'll be great...

I can ramble no longer. I've been up for roughly 18 hours, which for me is a record, usually it's a lot less than that. I need sleep.

Song of the moment - The Get Up Kids - A Newfound Interest In Massachusettes

PS: A big "screw you" to all the emo-haters. emo = emotional. all music should have emotion. so shut the fuck up.

I'm never making online promises again. (oops.)

You know, I don't usually lie in real life. I try not to. Maybe it's a flaw, I have no idea. I even feel bad about the little blunder in the previous post. What I wanted to do was a mock music awards for 2002, with off the wall categories such as "Most overhyped music" (All the "the" retro-rock bands like The Hives and The White Stripes) and "Best Name for a New Band" (And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead). Obviously that never happened and I apoligize. Instead I come at you with something I wrote over Thanksgiving, after one of my storied arguments with my dad. They may not be storied to you; I try not to talk about them to anyone. But if you lived in my house, you'd know what I meant. Here it is.

I am a human being like every other human being. You've read or heard those words beforeI'm sure, and this reaffirms the fact. I am fragile, sensitive, vulnerable. I need justification for my existence. It's not a matter of why I'm here, or what I'm here for, or how I'm doing it. Put simply, those things don't matter. What matters is who I'm here for.

My insides, my soul, my being...are all like a covered light. Why you'd cover a light up, I don't know. But it's covered, and everyone knows it. Only a fraction of the light is visible, straining to be seen through the shroud. Sooner or later the shroud has to fall, someone has to take it off. People want to see the light. The problem is, I don't let them. No one understands why; At times I don't understand why. The light isn't ugly, it's isn't disgusting, morbid, or repulsive. It's full of brightness, of energy. One day it's bound to break through.

I need help to do that. I understand that only I can do it. Only I can change myself. But it can't possibly be a one-way street. I listen to music, watch films, read books; I write my feelings down when I think they're worth writing. They help me see the light in others, see the light in myself on occasion. In short, I see myself everywhere but here.

Why is that? Because there are days when no one, even me, cares anymore. I mean that people that don't have to care, still don't. I understand that I have a family that loves me, friends that care, a God that looks out for me. I know this and appreciate it, but it's never been enough. There's still something missing. Maybe I'm just greedy, maybe I'm secretly in denial of my family ot friends. I don't really know sometimes.

It's weird how I can take those things for granted sometimes, those things that are supposed to soothe me, supposed to make me feel at home, supposed to make me feel like I'm wanted. And I throw them away because I know they have to be there for me. They wouldn't be my parents or my friends if they didn't do things for me. It might hurt to think that, but it's true

It's also weird how I can get sick of things so quickly. Cd's, videogames, girlfriends - they all come and go. They are temporary. Maybe that's my problem, I know I can move on to the next object. Somewhere it has to stop. I know where it stops.

It stops with a smile. A smile, if only for 5 seconds, can make me happy. It doesn't have to be only a smile, it can be praise. It can be a "good job" or a "thnak you" for something I've done. A smile disconnects me from the hurt, anger, and loss I deal with on a daily basis. I don't say that to cry and whine about how bad my life is; My problems are as insignificant as anyone else's. For every petty argument I have, or every dirty look I've gotten from a girl in a bar - a smile can make the difference between a bad day or a good one. A smile, in all it's simplicity, is better than a cold beer and a soothing cigarette after a hard day of work. It's better than all the cd's, all the sex, even all the money in the world.

I'm disconnected by your smile. It doesn't matter who it's from: black, white, yellow, indian; fat or thin; pretty or ugly; man or woman; teacher or student. Those things are secondary. All that matters is that you've taken the time to do it. In time, with enough prodding and pushing, I'll return the favor tenfold.

The end of another semester

I don't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, there were some good things going on this time around. On the other, some very bad, disturbing things happened, things so bad I won't even talk about them on here. And don't try asking me personally either, if I haven't already told you, you don't need to know.

I hate school. I absolutely hate it. It's one big fucking high school clique of abercrombie-wearing dolts. They all seem like stupid liberal pinko communist PETA-loving freaks. And I'm just talking about my roommate. Except for the communist part, that's me. ;)

OK, so I hate the people there, or at least most of them. But I did meet some cool ones, not necessarrily students, but some professors too.

Professor Erdmann is nuts. This guy...he's insane! All his classes are in the morning. The early morning. I had his 8AM Intro to Language Studies class, where he was fully energized from his morning coffee and God knows what else. I suspect a mixture of speed and crack, but that's just me. He makes fun of students' names, bangs his head on walls, slams doors, and a bunch of other stuff. He has a genuine interest in what he's teaching, and takes great pride in what he's doing. You don't find guys like this every day. Plus he has such a distinct sense of humor, it's all very hard to forget. I'm sad to see him go, as he doesn't teach any other classes besides freshman english.

Professor Coates, despite her husky voice and dyke-like short red hair, is actually pretty cool. When she's not talking about her adorable 4 year old daughter, she's teaching the Fundamentals of Electronic Media. In other words, we watch TV and listen to the radio. It was such an interesting class, so that alone is a bummer to see that behind me. But from day one, she let us know that she was one of us. She majored in "punk rock and partying" as an undergrad, and now she watches TV for her job, basically. We felt comfortable talking about smoking weed, or whatever in front of her. It was one of the few classes I wanted to go to every day. She also really liked the essays and papers I wrote for the class. After one she told me I should write a column about the media in a newspaper or something, because I was just that good. Another time she told me I should go into stand-up comedy, because my stuff was so funny. That kind of praise is something I don't hear very often.

Other profs were total asshats. Elitist english teachers that talk down to you, or insist that they know more than everyone because they read a lot. Whatever. I could care less about them.

There's not much else to say about this semester, it's been the same as any other, except it had the obvious abscence of a girlfriend. Oh well, I've made it through those before.

I promise to have another post up before the new year. It might even be kinda funny.
Song of the moment - Ben Folds - Army

I shoudn't be up now

I have a final, in 4 hours, 45 minutes. Of course, I have to be up an hour before than to get ready and be coherent for it, so that makes it 3 hours, 45 minutes. But that doesn't matter. I can't sleep. I don't have a lot on my mind, not any more than normal, anyways. I don't understand it. Somebody hates me and wants to keep me awake. I'm so tired I don't even know what to fucking say anymore. I came on here...for no reason I guess.

A Song

Yeah, I wrote a song because I felt inspired to, and in my morning english class nonetheless. It was partially inspired by the Get Up Kids' song "Central Standard Time."

A Stream of Hope (3 States Away)

This distance divides and conquers and swallows us with time
We grow apart 3 states away separated with endless sky
It's hard to feel, it's hard to feel the same
When you're so far away
But if I can write I can dream
And I've got enough words to fill a stream of hope
So one day maybe united by fate or possibly dumb luck
We'll see the faces behind our screens
The mask that covers us and our dreams
It's hard to feel, it's hard to feel the same
When you're so far away
But if I can write I can dream
And I've got enough words to fill a stream of hope
I find our lives like stray dogs just looking for a home
But we've got so far to go to keep from being alone
And this distance divides and conquers and swallows us with time
So far apart 3 states away seperated with endless sky
But the sky is free, filled with dreams
And one day those dreams could come to be

Song of the moment - Green Day "Blood Sex and Booze"

Wow, I've been neglecting this

I relaize I've been away for awhile, not writing, wallowing in my sadness or whatever the emotion of the day is. I haven't done any work on anything really, and more of that is to come. It's the end of the semester, and I'm fucking swamped with work. It sucks, but I will deal as I always have.

There was an article on Yahoo News recently, which I found through FARK (of course) that had reported the results of a survey. The survey covered a bunch of other countries in the world, and what they thought of America. It can be found here. I'm not surprised by the results at all, but I still have a few things to say about it.

The article says that our (America's) reputation is declining in 19 out of 44 countries surveyed. It's not just the Muslim--populated countries, even Canada thinks we're getting worse and worse. I tend to agree on some level. We are bastards who do things our way, and if you don't like it, tough shit. In a "global" world, that just doesn't fly. I know Saddam needs to be taken out, and the world agrees to some effect, but to do it ourselves, against everyone's wishes? That's just being stupid. It may seem easy, Iraq's not exactly the most formidable opponent. But we thought that last time too, and look what happened. Hell, we thought that about Vietnam. Last time I checked we got our asses handed to us there.

I know it's good to be patrotic, and to love your country and all that... but a blind following of it is retarded. Hitler got in power that way...

I don't want to write too much on that situation with Iraq though, I think enough has been said and discussed already. There were a few points I'd like to talk about though. The first one is that those surveyed still like our entertainment, despite our supposed bad values. I'm starting to think that the rest of the world isn't as intelligent and classy as they'd like to think. Our entertainment sucks. Cookie cutter movies and bands? What the hell is wrong with you? Though I suppose they don't have nearly the wealth of options as we do here, so I guess I'll give them that.

Another thing that the survey said was that some countries that they don't think WE do enough to help the world's problems. Make up your minds! Either you want us there or you don't! I guess we're damned if we do, damned if we don't. Personally, I'm all for isolationism. I think we should stay the fuck out of the world's problems for a while and see what happens. Maybe they'll come begging to us for aid, maybe they won't. Either way, we win. How can you hate us if we aren't involved?

My last point I want to touch on is that the world thinks it's safer with only one superpower. Even Russia said this, and they we're the world's last superpower to fall. I don't know if I agree. With only one, they pretty much control what goes on. I don't like that one bit. It's like having a dictator control the world... and I wouldn't be surprised if there were people out there who think of the US as such. I know the complications of having more than one superpower. They'll constantly be competing and whatnot, like in the Cold War. I think we're past that now. I think if we had more than one, sort of like all the countries in the UN Security Council, the world would be a better place. I suppose that's the whole point of the UN, but right now it doesn't seem to matter because we're going against them anyways. But whatever...

I'm not a US hater, or a liberal hippie either. But I see that there are things wrong that need to be fixed before we turn everyone against us. I don't care how strong or arrogant this country is, we just can't have that. I don't know much about politics, so maybe I shouldn't be talking about this, but I the article just inspired me to say something.


Song of the moment - Drunk Again - Everclear

Late night blogging continues.

I don't have any idea why (do I ever?) I've been staying up so late these past few days. I'm certainly not doing anything productive with my time. I'm not doing homework, that's for damn sure, and I'm not really writing either. Most likely, I'm sitting here staring at this screen or playing counter-strike. But enough of that...

I was recently linked to Death Clock by Ken, and it told me I'd die in 2039 or something. which would make me about 59. That's all fine and good, but I think I'd put my death at around 40. Seriously.

My dentist tells me that I'm gonna need dentures by 35 or 40 because I don't take care of my teeth very well. Don't go thinking that I don't brush my teeth, because I do. But they'd like me to do it 3 times a day, with flossing. And no soda or sugar or anything else remotely fun to eat or drink, because it'll kill my already ruined gums. I got to thinking maybe I won't need dentures, because I'll be dead by then.

I look at it this way. I have the worst diet ever. True, I'm a college kid on a budget that can't afford to eat a decent meal every day. My breakfast might be a waffle or some cereal, which is fine. But sometimes doritos and coke for lunch just doesn't cut it. I'm not even talking about that though. Ever since I can remember, I haven't eaten veggies. Maybe some potatoes here, some corn there, but nothing else. Plus I eat junk food more than the average person, I'm sure. Combine that with my love for bloody red meat and greasy favorites like french fries or cheese pizza from pizza hut and you've got a recipe for DEATH.

It doesn't stop there my friends. I smoke like a fiend, so of course I can't exercise now. Not that you'd say I need to; I'm 6 feet tall and weigh 165 pounds. I've never been able to get fat. Then again I can't run a mile without having to keel over and die. So there go my lungs.

My mental health probably isn't the best either. I'm not insane, or mentally retarded or anything like that. But if you haven't noticed I don't have the best outlook on life. I'm depressed, bummed, whatever you want to call it almost constantly. I'm never excited about anything. I've lost the passion for life, if I ever had it to begin with. Trust me, it's not healthy, and I'm not really proud of it either. But what the hell am I gonna do?

Some news and other things

In the words of Elton John in "Rocket Man" it's been a "long long long long time" since I've posted, obviously. I couldn't tell you why, because I don't know myself. I guess I just didn't feel like writing anything, so I didn't. I don't know if anybody clicks on the other links, but the other web sites I run are on their deathbeds, at least in their current forms. Why? Because I'm lazy and don't feel like doing a site that requires (in theory) at least an update a week. I know it's ironic that I'm still doing this one, but let's not go there... I don't have to anything but type words and the occasional HTML code for the blog.

I suppose there are other reasons for my disinterest in webmastering. My partner in crime, Ken (see his blog in the links section), has all of the sudden taken it upon himself to start learning the basics of being a webmaster. Now, you might be thinking, as I did, that maybe some of the responsibilities of Dissention or Disconnected By Your Smile could be shifted his way. Well, to do some of the things I did, you'd have to have some advanced knowledge of HTML and Photoshop, neither of which he possesses at this time. Which is cool, 'cause he wants to do his own thing, and more power to him for that.

On that note, Dissention is dead. No more e/n content-based web site for me. It'll be replaced by the tentatively-named Kevin's Ultimate Waste of Space. Basically it will be a personal site with a bio, pictures, links, a subsite for my radio show, and whatever else I come up with at the time. It's more for people to find out a bit about me, since I have the hardest time actually, physically telling people about myself.

DBYS is also dead. Ken's work will be moved off since he's making his own site for that. I'll keep mine on for sure, as an archive of my past writing. But the poetry/songs won't be updated, as I want to take a break on that to focus on short stories. I don't think I have anything more to say with a song. Lately, whenever I want to write like that, I can't. I put my pen to the paper, or my fingers to the keyboard and nothing comes out. Not that I've written a plethora of stories either, but my experiences this year have led to some ideas and I want to commit them to a full-fledged piece of work.

If you're one of those rare people who liked my rants and essays, fear not because that's exactly why I'm keeping this blogger updated (I will do a better job this time, I swear). My trademark fucked-up humor and forever pessimistic attitude will still be alive and well on Disconnected.

I think that's all I have to say for now.

The Beatles

They are the best band of all time, not that you didn't know that already. I can put any of their albums on, early era or late, and just drift away to it. I've never heard a Beatles song that makes me feel sad. Even their sadder songs make me feel good. It must be because their lyrics are about the everyday in's-and-out's of life. I'm not going to argue that they were the innovators of everything because they weren't. When the Beatles first started out, they did mostly covers of 50's tunes. But they certainly influenced generations of musicians, and are still doing so today.

Take Beck for example, today he's the master of genre-hopping music. Where do you think some of that came from? Can you say the White Album? Or Abbey Road? That's what I thought. Black Sabbath went on with their careers because of what the Beatles were doing. If four boys from Liverpool, England could do it, so could Black Sabbath.

A lot of people argue that The Beatles' early material wasn't very good. And maybe from a musical standpoint it wasn't... but I can't help but taking the critics' view that their early music was and is still fresh today. It's weird, I listen to some songs from pop radio (not teeny-bopper music, but general guitar-driven pop) and I immediately hear echoes of the Beatles early music. Don'y believe me? Put on A Hard Days Night sometime, then listen to Matchbox 20 or something.

Some of the Beatles' later stuff is mindblowing, but some is rather forgettable. I guess all the drugs were starting to take effect on their music. Sgt. Pepper is one of the best albums of all time, hands down. A Day In The Life is one of their best songs ever. Personally I think the White Album could've been edited into 1 disc, and it would've have stodd up to Pepper and Revolver and all the other albums the critics rave about.

I think they ended on a good note with Abbey Road, where they returned to their rock and blues roots. "Something" should be one of the best love songs ever written. After that of course, the Beatles went on to successful solo careers, and I enjoy the solo work too. Especially that of John Lennon and George Harrison.

So yeah, I've been having a Beatles day all day today... I feel at peace with who I am, for at least a little while.

Current song: Beatles - In My Life from Rubber Soul

What should I write about?

I really wanted this to be a substitute for Dissention, cause I guess I got sick of it for some reason. It's not like it was an obligation in my life or anything... but as those of you who know me well I get tired of things easily, and a web site is no different. But I come here and realize I have nothing to say. I don't have the slightest idea why that is. I quit, for now.

The Soundtrack of My Life

Yeah, so my birthday came and went. I'm 21 now, so I guess that means I can legally get ferschnickered (sorry, I was having a Mel Brooks moment there). And as usual I marked an important period in my life with a compilation cd. This time around it's songs that have really meant something throughout my life, especially in my teenage/college years. As you can probably guess, many of the songs are about loss, misery, and despair. My life may not be as melancholy as the songs are. But sadness is part of who I am, for better or worse. It's in my writing, in my speech, and in my every day appearance. I'm not exactly proud of it, but if that's the way I live, than that's the way I live. I want to give a track by track analysis to give you a better understanding of why I am the way I am, and furthermore how I live. Here goes nothing.

Track 1: Radiohead - Creep from the album Pablo Honey

I started it off with this alt-rock classic because it's sort of how I feel about myself at the very base of my life. "I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo... I don't belong here" is a recurring thought of mine. And, of course, "you're so fucking special / I wish I was special" is another one of those lines the resonate with me.

Track 2: Everclear - One Hit Wonder from the album So Much For the Afterglow

One line, repeated over and over again, says it all for me: "They can't hurt you unless you let them." It has become my motto over the years. I realize, that although there are plenty of people that care about me, there are many more that don't. No matter what those people do, I won't let them get to me. I can't, or I won't be able to live. Even I want to live, sometimes.

Track 3: Stabbing Westward - Waking Up Beside You from the album Darkest Days

This song reminds me of some of the girlfriends I've had. Waking up beside them, being held by them is one thing I sincerely miss. When Chris Hall goes into details, like when he sings "And I memorized your naked silhouette as you slowly brushed your hair," those are my favorite parts of the song. Those little things in my relationships are the things that stay with me the longest.

Track 4: Superdrag - Sucked Out from the album Regretfully Yours

If "Waking Up Beside You" is what I remember from the relationships, this is how I feel after they end. Who sucked out the feeling?

Track 5: Marilyn Manson - Man That You Fear from the album Antichrist Superstar

I wasn't trying to be heavy-handed when I picked this track. I guess when I was in high school certain people didn't mess with me because they were actually afraid of me to some extent, which is kind of cool when you think about it. Also, "the boy that you loved is the man that you fear" just reminds me how much I've changed since I was a little boy. I don't remember being exceptionally sweet, but I know I was nothing like I am now.

Track 6: Local H - Nothing Special from the album As Good As Dead

This song was also a candidate to start off the album. Because, let's face it, I'm nothing special. I'm your average guy. But this song is also about living in an ass-backwards suburb, sort of like where I'm from. And the people in the song lead boring, repetitive lives, also like where I live. So that warrants me putting it on this soundtrack.

Track 7: Blink 182 - Wasting Time from the album Cheshire Cat

This song about girls perfectly describes my everyday (non)relationship with them.

Sometimes I sit at home and
wonder if she's sitting at home
thinking of me and wondering if I'm
sitting at home, thinking about her
or am I just wasting my time

Somehow I think I am wasting my time. I don't want to list the rest of the lyrics here, but they are so "me" as well.

Track 8: Offspring - The Kids Aren't Alright from the album Americana

This song isn't as much about me as it is about people I grew up with. The whole song tells about how when you're little you think everyone's going to make it through alright, and as you get older not everyone makes it. My friend Richard told me about some girls I went to grade school with, and how one was now pregnant, another heavily into drugs. That story inspired the selection of this song.

Track 9: Smashing Pumpkins - The Aeroplane Flies High (Turns Left, Looks Right) from the 33 single

One of the lines repeated is "disconnected by your smile." You can go to the DBYS site to find out what I mean by that in detail. Basically, when people show interest, or are nice to me when they don't have to be... it disconnects me from the day-to-day ups and downs I go through. Also, some spoken phrases in the song like "I've always been afraid to die, but I think I'm more afraid to live" strike a chord with me. Because I know that's half my problem. I'm afraid to really live.

Track 10: New Found Glory - Boy Crazy from the album New Found Glory

Gay jokes aside, the opening of this song is what plays through my head when I want to talk to a girl. "What kind of pickup line was that?" one girl asks, well another one says "Eww, did you smell that?" The whole bit about "some girls are crazy" is dead on.

Track 11: Metallica - Holier Than Thou from the album MetallicaM

This is my english major song. I just get this vibe that other english majors think they're better than everyone else.

Track 12: Get Up Kids - Ten Minutes from the album Eudora

I started with the emo later on the disc because it was introduced to me later in my life. "You're falling in love while I just fall apart" seems to be a theme of my life lately.

Track 13: Saves The Day - Sell All My Old Clothes, I'm Off To Heaven from the album Another Year On The Streets Vol 1

I often find myself wondering, when I see couples walking together, why they're together... why they've found someone... and why I sit alone. What do they have that I don't have is the theme of the song.

Track 14: Alkaline Trio - This Is Getting Over You from the album Alkaline Trio

Alkaline Trio's songs usually mention drinking in one capacity or another, and this one does as well. Drowning girls (by drinking alcohol) is a game I play!

Track 15: Weezer - The Good Life from the album Pinkerton

Gee, the first optimistic track 15 songs in. Who would've thought. This is all about me wanting to get back into the swing of things, when they were good. Believe it or not, there were good periods in my 21 years. This is the song that can inspire me to do so.

Track 16: Dashboard Confessional - Anyone, Anyone. from the Drowning EP

It was hard to pick a DC song, but I knew it was inevitable that there would be one on here somewhere. "I never mastered disinterest" is the key line here.

Track 17: John Lennon - Watching The Wheels from the album The John Lennon Collection

This song is about just going through the motions because the one thing you're looking for is gone. I don't know what I'm looking for quite yet, but I do know that I spend a lot of my time "just watching the wheels go round and round."

Track 18: Tool - Lateralus from the album Lateralus

I ended the CD on an optimistic note. This song speaks to me on so many different levels. I could list so many quotes here, it's not even funny. "Over thinking, over analyzing seperates the body from the mind" has become another thing to live by. The most moving verse comes at the end of the song when Maynard says:

With my feet upon the ground I lose myself
between the sounds and open wide to suck it in.
I feel it move across my skin.
I'm reaching up and reaching out.
I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me.
And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been.
We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been.

I get chills down my spine. I really do.

So there you go, 78 minutes worth of me. Great. In the words of Maynard James Kennan (from Lateralus again) "Keep going. Spiral out."

Some random stats from my brithday:

Beers: 8
Shots: 6
Tidal Waves: (splashes of water from the bartender) 2
Bedtime: 3:30 AM

Never work at a library.

I feel really bad about my last post, I really do. I feel like I cheated myself or something. I keep saying I'm a goddamn writer, and people keep telling me I'm a goddamn good writer, yet I have nothing to say. It's been getting to me lately.

So here I sit at work, at the exquisite Harold Andersen Library in Whitewater, WI. As you can tell, there's not much work to be done here, especially on a Saturday afternoon. No one is in here (almost) because they all went home to mommy and daddy and their weekend jobs. But it's OK, I won't complain; I'm making an extra 20 bucks for working this extra shift.

I've had jobs before, but nothing at all like this. Well, I take that back. During the week I work in the office of the library, and my first job experience was in an office environment. Now you're thinking, how the hell does a 17-year old kid get a job in an office? The answer: My mom. She works for an insurance company, and when I was a junior in high school, I got this great idea that I wanted to work there. I spent the next 3 years (on and off) complaining about it every second I could. It was like Office Space, only it took place in a mail room. Sure, there were many days I had nothing to do. Delivering mail 8 times a day to different departments got quite old after awhile, and so did the other butt jobs they gave me. Butt jobs meaning "given because no one else in their right mind would do them." But it was really OK, despite my complaints. The people down there made it all better because they were all on the same level as I, except they were all adults, and I was a stupid kid. No where else but there in that mail room could I hear an old black man tell me that "pussy is pussy" and that he was gonna get me a call girl so I could get laid. Furthermore, as time went on I made more and more money. I started at 6.25/hr and finished at 10.50. How many 19-20 year olds make that kind of money?

So that wasn't the worst experience of my life. During school breaks I would come back to work for them through a temp agency (that's where the 10.50 figure comes from) and things would be good. Then last year they relocated me to another mail division. My job: Feed papers through a folder machine. That's all I did. 8 hours a day, I did folding jobs. It was the most redundant job EVER. But who the hell is going to complain (at least as a kid with no bills, etc) for ten bucks an hour. And later on, I figured out I could listen to headphones to drown out the roars of that damned machine. I complained every day how much that job sucked and I was glad when it was over.

That brings us to my summer job, the thrift store. That was the classic example of a business exploiting teenagers, or at least teenagers that really don't want to work for a living. My job, for the most part, was cleaning up after other people's messes. Whether it be the other workers' or the dirty customers that came into the store. For a person that is perfectly comfortable with living in his own filth, this is not an ideal job. Especially not for a measly six dollars an hour. But, like the mail room, the saving grace for this job was the people. Again, everyone was on my basic level. A wide variety of kids worked at that place, and most of them never failed to keep me amused. If it wasn't for Cheech and Chong, Dumb and Dumber, and the five dollar gift cards, I don't know what I would've done. Add to that the fact that we actually had a customer who looked like Chong, got in some kick-ass records, and just had an all-around fun time screwing around... and Value Village doesn't look so bad. But, sadly (yeah right), I won't be going back there to work any time soon. That's another story in and of itself.

The library takes the cake for my all-time worst job though. What sucks is I'm going to write this and it's not going to seem so bad. I mean, I only work 9 hours a week. But, 6 of those are devoted to the office, where I can't talk to anyone, even if I wanted to. I work alone, which under most circumstances is cool. But after 2 years of this, I can't take it anymore. It's mindnumbingly boring to sit and bind old magazines, even for two hours. I can't quit; this is a work study job and I need the money to pay for beer. And my apartment. I suppose when I work the desk it's cool. I always seem to get the shifts where no one is in the library, which is awesome because I hate helping people and I like to waste time. Which is what I do best. I sit and surf the web, read TIME and ROLLING STONE. The info desk is a great job, really. But the rest of the library gig sucks ass and I'd shoot myself in the head if I had to do this for a living. I don't like books that much.

DUE TO BOREDOM, I give you the Hot or Not Girl of the moment EXTRAVAGANZA!

I'd hit it. She's nippin'
MMM More cleavage
I'm really starting to dig redheads.
What can I say? I like boobs.
A goth chick for Ken.
Not only is she sexy, she knows how to use Photoshop.
BOOBIES!
Meow indeed!
Someone slap this poser please.
Jailbait

And just to one-up the bastard, here's MY song of the moment: Nirvana - "You Know You're Right"

Same old, same old.

It's been awhile since I've talked at you, and there's really nothing new to report from here. I'm still as bitter and jaded and unexcited as you remember me. For some reason, I've been doing a lot of Photoshopping on FARK.com. I don't really know if I'm very good at it, but I don't care. It passes the time. I've also been playing a lot of old-school NES games. It sort of takes me back to a better, more careless time. I really don't know what else to write, as I'm drawing a blank. I see and feel nothing at this moment. I think I'll go back to playing Tecmo Super Bowl.

I hate chalk too.

I'm not talking about the kind that's used to write certain phrases from a certain stoner movie on the back of a certain place of employment. No, I love that chalk; The kind that would have gotten me fired, and may have even gotten me a ticket. Because you see, cops don't always see the difference between jokes and misdemeanors. But let's not talk about that old nonsense. I'm talking about the kind of chalk that people use to mark up every goddamn sidewalk on this campus. It's called "chalking" and it's the cheapest form of advertising around here. Every student organization uses it. Hopefully, many of the actual students despise it. It's an eyesore that needs to be stopped.

It's total chaos out there right now - it's homecoming week - and it pisses me off. Does anyone really care about a stupid football game, or are these student orgs just forced to show school spirit? Last time I checked, homecoming was a high school concept. I knew it existed in college, but I figured it wouldn't be a big deal. It is. The chalkings started last week, and unfortunately didn't have a camera with me. Finally, someone rebelled. The joke chalkings ranged from the clever - "Wells 4 Bush" complete with a sketch of a naked woman and an arrow pointing to that part of her anatomy - to the cliche (Got Pot?). Another one read "...And that's how I first got Herpes!" Pure comedy gold. Seriously, that made my day. But as this week started, more and more chalkings started appearing, saying how mucheach org or frat or dorm loved the Warhawks. Bullshit. Really, who gives a fuck?

I had the idea to chalk when people were advertising for their fraternities or sororities. I wanted to start my own self-proclaimed "Frorority" for both guys and girls. Never mind that when a greek organization is co-ed, it's still called a fraternity. I don't care. I figured the letters would be Alpha Omega, as in the beginning and the end (of all frats). My selling point: WE HAVE HOT BITCHES! And then put my apartment down for the address and tell 'em there'd be beer. People would come, trust me. Of course I never did that because, um, I'm a big pussy.

Anyways, that's why I hate chalk. Have a nice day.

Some more Hot Or Not GIRLS of the moment: Looks like she had too much to drink. I'd hit it, at least a time or three.

I hate the internet.

This thing is gonna be the life and death of me, I can just tell. Right now, it is my lifeblood. And I hate its guts. With the internet, I have no reason to leave my apartment except to go to class. Even then, more and more classes are online, and the ones that aren't post pertinent information online anyways. This is my sole form of communication right here folks. It's sad, isn't it? I got an $87 phone bill the other day, and I don't see any reason for having it anymore. No one calls me, except for maybe my mom. I can communicate with all my friends and family online...for free. It's possible to order pizza online now. If Rosa's in Whitewater goes digital, I'm never using my phone again.

The only way I talk to girls is online. Hell, the only way I meet girls is online. That's really bad because supposedly, one of my few charms is my personality, and my online persona and my real-life persona are totally different. I wonder which one people fall in love with first...

What's more disillusioning is that now the Internet is used by damn near everyone, giving the ability to the lowest common denominator to come online and berate me. People in chat rooms are no longer intelligent (were they ever?) and witty. They're just as superficial as in real life. I hate it.

I said before that I don't really do anything but sit in this chair and surf the web and write these rambling posts to you. I'm not exaggerating one bit. I'm supposed to be a goddamn writer and this is the best I can do. Why? Because I haven't experienced anything worth writing about in a long, long time. And you guessed why I haven't, too, I bet. Because I sit behind this screen, with a blank stare on my face. The whole network went down last night, and I didn't do a thing about it. In fact, I still sat in this chair waiting for it to come back up. I didn't go catch a good movie, or read a book to stimulate my mind. I didn't write. I remained passive and watched the Bangbus.

This is really getting to me because the Internet was my cure-all for quite a long time. Now it's another thing that I'm disinterested in... and like Chris Carabba (Dashboard Confessional) says in one of his songs... "I never really mastered disinterest." I don't know where to go from here.

My friend the douche bag.

I just wanted to use that as a title. He is a douche bag, but I don't have anything remotely relevant to say about him now. Besides that I hate him. Anyways... I ahve no idea where this came from:


This is the raging alcoholic speaking. I drink alone, like George Thorogood on a really lonely night. Seven or eight beers and 2 hours later I'm seeing double and laying on the ground. I watch porn, and see two money shots. It would be cool except I can't really tell if the girl is cute anymore. But it's porn, so she must be. I hope she is.

I close the bars at 2am, and if I'm really lucky I get up at 6am to open the same bars. The barflies all know me by name, like at George Webb's. It makes me feel good, feel justified. There's no reason to drink, really. I've never gotten laid solely because of the alcohol. I've never really accomplished anythong because of it. I know, that's not the point. The point is to feel good, and there's plenty of that going on. It also helps to forget, for those 3 or 4 or 5 hours that your life really sucks, and on those nights I can go home happy... and wake up angry and worthless. On the real bad nights, I sit in my room and sulk. I listen to the sad-bastard music that only shy 16 year old boys should listen to. Maybe I am a 16 year old boy trapped inside. Or maybe I just want to be 16 again. Things were so great at 16, weren't they?

My life is a cycle that I can never escape. I am a raging alcoholic. Care to share a drink with me?