Saturday, February 28, 2009

lifes blood


listening to a cassette of 18 Visions, live at the Showcase Theater from 1998.
the past couple days ive been listening to these live tapes i have. its weird that 10 years later i still have all these awesome memories. i do miss it. i wont lie. they were fun times, and i wish that id taken greater care to preserve the memories. its very blurry.
justin over at XstuckinthepastX is gonna take some of my old cassettes and put them onto his computer so that he can post them on his blog for the world to hear. i think its awesome that there are so many blogs and people doing their part to preserve a piece of (hardcore) history. i wouldnt even call it about a "revival". like i was telling AJ, its more of people who were there, and have all these good memories just not letting them go to waste.

anyway, i gotta go. just got an email of something amazing, and it made my day better.

thanks tara for allowing me to be ultimate fanboy

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

death is not an option

Eating at jack in the box. Weird, huh?

Ordered the homestyle ranch chicken with no tomatos. Guess what was on my sandwich?

Last night went to Alejandros and asked for 3 taquitos with CHEESE ONLY. Apparently, cheese sounded like GUACAMOLE to the asshole in the drivethrough. I don't know why I thought it would be ok to drive away without checking.

My point here is, when I ask for something to be a certain way, that's what I expect.

yesterday I did something I should have done years ago. It was hard, stressful, and rewarding ultimately because I have the satisfaction of knowing I did it all by myself. I can't really go into further detail in a public forum.

I wish I could update this every single day, but sometimes I just can't. So sorry, Tara... you'll just have to get your fix of me through twitter.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

americans abroad

At Two Brothers pizza in Fountain Valley. Oddly enough, my work which is DIRECTLY across the street, is in Huntington Beach.

Its kind of like what I'm watching on tv right now.. Obama and the Canadian Prime Minister discussing how our economies are closely related. I had no idea that Canada is our largest supplier of oil.

I love the way they say ABOAT. Its funny to me

I'm still not convinced that Obama is our only hope, that he's going to make everything better. Only 60% of america believes that he is doing a good job. That's crazy.

I love pizza.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

common people

I remember the first time I heard the song "common people" by Pulp.

The year was 1998. This girl named Lindsay took me to a club, I think it was caled Blue, on Santa Monica. It was at a decent sized bar, packed with mod-types and just generally cool looking people.

This song started playing, and I noticed a boy standing on a box/ stage, singing every word to the crowd. That image will be forever burned into my mind.

The song is such a good story of what its like to be young, dumb and full of cum. Jarvis Cocker is an amazing story teller. The song "mile end" is a good story too.

Pulp is in my top 5 bands that I never got to see but wanted to. I highly recommend checking out the Hits album if you've never heard them.

william, it was really nothing

I don't understand this weather. Fucking freezing and pouring, two hours later clear and sunny. Bullshit.

Sitting at Jack in the Box, as usual. I've been stepping out of the box and ordering something different every time I come now. Today it was the sourdough jack. Not bad at all. There's an older guy sitting in the corner talking to himself. That always freaks me out. N*sync is on the radio right now. I gotta get outta here before "dirty pop" gets stuck in my head.

My meat consumption has been cut considerably. I don't miss it.

Finalized booking tickets to Chicago. Mind bottling.

Back to work. Kinda over it today, oddly enough. Ug. I just wanna crawl back into bed and watch Desperate Housewives. Sunday we left the bed for only 4 hours, 2 of those hours to watch CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPAHOLIC, which was amazing btw. Is it 5 yet?

Monday, February 16, 2009

back to the old house, part one

ive decided to start writing about my past. i dont know why. maybe just to get random memories out.
i will write it in parts, or sections of my life. the first section will be the beginning of my life.

i was born March 18th, 1977 in Yuma, Arizona. My mom was born in Texas and grew up in Farmington, New Mexico. how she came to Yuma i do not know. My father was born in Yuma.
his name is Hacksaw.
his real name is Manuel, but most people dont know his real name. he was the middle child of 13 or 14. his father was a Creek Indian, and his mother a Yaqui Indian. Yaqui is a tribe indigenous to Mexico, so when i saw im not mexican i guess thats a part lie.
My mom is white. like, really white. like... comes from a family named Smith from England, white.
my parents divorced when i was 2, and mom eventually met Thomas. they married when i was 4 at the courthouse, me being one of the witnesses.
we did quite a bit of moving around. i think we lived in 4 different cities betweeen my 4th and 6th birthdays. i think we lived in a place called Wickenburg, AZ. we lived in Visalia for a bit too. thats where my parents live now, and its where Thomas grew up.
ive told my earliest memories to my mom and she said i was between the ages of 2 and 4 when they happened. i remember living in an apartment next to two dudes, and one of them gave me a large Hulk action figure.
i remember there being an earthquake once, and my mom told me it was a dragon.
i remember Thomas coming home on one rainy night and standing in the doorway and lightening flash behind him, being scared to death.
i remember my mom sitting on the bed next to me, playing guitar and singing "puff the magic dragon to try and get me to sleep.
i remember sitting at the dinner table til i fell asleep because i wouldnt eat my meatloaf.

shortly before my 6th birthday we moved to Albuquerque, NM. my mom was pregnant with my brother, and we moved there to be closer to my grandma.
so much closer, in fact, that we all moved into her 1 bedroom house. my grandma and her 2nd husband, Bill, had just moved into an amazing house in the southwest valley of Albuquerque that sat on 1/2 an acre. it was a wonderland.
so i slept on a cot for a while, while my parents got their living situation down.
im not sure what order the new house and my new brother arrived in.
the new house was on a mostly dirt, dead end road about 2 miles from my grandma, and about a mile from the bridge over the Rio Grande that divides Albuquerque. the house was also a 1 bedroom. my bed and toychest were the only things that survived the move, and they were placed in the living room, while my parents and brother took the bedroom. eventually a living room was added on the back of the house and my brother and i took the bedroom, the old living room being converted into a bedroom. i could crawl through the former window to the outside world to get into my living room, which i usually did early saturday mornings to watch cartoons.
my brother's entrance into this world was a rough one.
an injury during birth caused Cerebral Palsy. Thomas Jeffery, or TJ was brought into the world in 1982. his coming changed and shaped my family in many ways. growing up with a developmentally disabled sibling is a trying experience. but it is one that gave my mother great strength and gave me great understanding and compassion towards people who are "different"
i attended a private school from kindergarten to 8th grade. and not a religious, uniform wearing private school. it was more of an academic, "progressive" school. Manzano Day School held me from k-5th. the classes were small and advanced.
in 6th grade i moved up to the Albuquerque Academy. it was 45 minutes away from my house, and i think about 5,000 dollars per year to go to. i had to get good grades to maintain a scholarship, much like a college. the Academy was a crazy world. we were smart. they were rich. the classes were challenging and engaging. in 7th grade, my classes included advanced spanish 3, geometry and Native American Studies. for my history class in 8th grade we had to study an ancient civilization, create artifacts, bury them, and the other classes dug up our civilization in a mock archeology dig to study us. the school owned a ranch in northern New Mexico that we made trips to periodically. i worked on a goat farm once for 3 days.
8th grade is a very important year, socially. i was just growing into my own, being the "poor" kid from the other side of town, but being invited to the "cool" parties and finally getting attention from girls.
then, my mom told me that we were moving to California because she got a new job.

thats where ill start next.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

hearts

I love love. I love the feeling of loving.

Most people wouldn't expect that from me. Everyone thinks I'm this terrible monster, an asshole, a grinch. And maybe its my fualt for projecting that, or actually living it for a long time.

If you label someone something for long enough, that's all they will ever be to you.

I want an Ozzie and Harriet life. I want a white picket fence and a dog. Always have.

The sad reality is that most people, especially people younger than me, have already given up. They don't believe in love. They don't believe that it can change your life. Or at least they won't let it.

I'm not giving up. I hope I never do. No matter how many of my dreams get fucking smashed into oblivian, or how many times I let myself get walked on, I won't give up on love.

Sure, I may have grown to be more cautious, more paranoid and more eager. But I'm still trying.