Light Beast

I'm creating music again and loving it. That creative outlet is indescribable; especially when it's something I'm passionate about. Now I just have to figure out how to combine an occupation and music...

right back, but never shoulda left

I'm back in Austin. Feels good. Strike that. Feels great. Optimism is one way I'd describe it. I haven't felt that in 6 months or more. The familiarity is enough, but that isn't all; it's starting over, but without fear. The job search is on, but having family and friends around, especially with the holidays, makes it seem pretty insignificant.

Feel loved. Finally.

I'll post about the trip itself another time. Ca$h out.

no new posts til atx

i'm a broken record. i know.

I had to post this link because it is dead on. Before I opened the page, I knew what song should be number 1 and it was.

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/rocksbackpages/520/cry-me-a-river-the-20-most-heartbreaking-songs-of-all-time/

Edward Scissorhands

I had to work Black Friday and it was as slow and miserable as anticipated; however, what I did not expect was to get some wisdom and uplifting advice. There is a painter by the name of Ed who shops at my paint store. He is a bit odd, always tells jokes and, at times, can be a tad irritating. Ed is 74 years old and still paints. To put his age into perspective, Eisenhower was in office when he started painting 50 years ago. Started 50 years ago. I've only been alive half the time Ed's had a career. I don't really know if he needs to work for additional income or if he merely does it to stay active. Judging from our conversation, I am inclined to believe the former, but only he knows for sure.

Ed came in to the store to drink coffee and bullshit, like most elderly men do, and did not actually purchase anything. We talked for a good 90 minutes and covered a broad variety of topics. It is no secret I am going through a really tough time in my life and struggling with many uncertainties, so I decided to get some sage wisdom from a man who has experienced a lifetime. I inquired about regrets, love, money, careers, and all the things associated with 'life'. After a couple minutes, I felt like I was merely scratching the surface of his vast knowledge.

I won't post what Ed said, but it was wise and comforting. It made me feel better. When he left, I was smiling and felt at ease. Having someone who has lived a full life tell me everything would be alright was enough to ease my quarter-life crisis worries for a bit. So, go hug or call your grandparents and ask them about life.

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life

Life is a series of peaks and valleys. I've previously discussed how music can comfort in valleys and make peaks more heavenly. This is (duh.) another post about the former. The solace of another human being expressing similar emotions they have experienced cannot really be put into words. One lyricist in particular that 'speaks' to me is Ben Gibbard of Death Cab For Cutie/The Postal Service. The man has made a good living writing songs about heartbreak. It is a topic to which nearly everyone can relate and is normally sung over catchy melodic indie rock, which equates to money in the bank.

No song Gibbard has written rings true 100%, but there are a few that get the majority of my feelings spot on. Some time ago, the song "Nothing Better" by The Postal Service (which is a duet with Jenny Lewis) was a huge comfort for not only myself, but a friend of mine when we were both going through some difficult times. Most recently, the song which expresses some of my emotions best is "You Can Do Better Than Me" off the Death Cab album Narrow Stairs. The lyrics illustrate everything I'm feeling except a single line, so here, in it's entirety, are the words:

"You Can Do Better Than Me" by Death Cab For Cutie

We're starting to feel
We stayed together out of fear
Of dying alone
I've been slipping through the years
My old clothes don't fit like they once did
So they hang like ghosts
Of the people I've been

It's like my heart can't take
My fall in love every day
And I feel like a fool

I have to face the truth
That no one could ever look at me like you do
Like I'm something worth holding on to

These times I think of leaving
But it's something I'll never do

'Cause you can do better than me
But I can't do better than you

Worst. Thanksgiving. Ever.

Fear Before the March of Flames

I'm absolutely terrified of the upcoming weeks and months. Uncertainty lurks. I've done my best to soldier on and try positivity, but the painworryfrustration is too great to ignore. Hope is absent; I lost it a while ago. Resentment eats at my soul. Loneliness gnaws. I can feel 'it' coming around again and am powerless to stop it. At least, I tell myself I'm helpless, but it's not true. All the advice sounds cliche and patronizing. Everyone means well, but the only person who can help me is me. I just have no idea where to start...

Suds Your Duds

I went to a real public laundromat for the first time in my life today. I say the first time because I'm excluding the laundry facilities in the dorms. The place is called 'Suds Your Duds'. I'd been putting off going because I was apprehensive about it and I didn't have to go. I finally had to because I was out of underwear and socks. This is another example that makes me think I really have some sort of mild social anxiety disorder. I desperately wanted there to be no one else in the facility, which happened; alone the whole time. I did sit in my truck for an extra minute or two while one guy finished up so I could avoid him.

It wasn't as bad as anticipated, but it sure was boring. This should be the last time I ever have to go to a laundromat since I want a washer/drier in my place, but life changes. Guess I'll just have to bring a book next time.

MyPlace

When I move back to Austin, all faith in regard to my new dwelling is in the hands of my future roommate. I trust he has good taste and we have discussed it a bit, which is comforting, but you never know until you live there. I say this because my current apartment may just be the worst place I've ever lived. I did live in former project housing in the bad part of Waco, TX, but this may be worse. Here is a quick rundown of my current place:

- Halfway house a couple blocks away
- Planes fly over every few hours
- Train tracks are less than 100 yards away
- Trains go by about every hour (including nighttime)
- There is more than one registered sex offender in the neighborhood, including across the street
- Steetwalkers litter the streets
- People yell profanities at each other outside my windows all the time

And last, but not least...
- I found a plastic grocery sack full of used syringes outside my back door

This doesn't even include all the issues I've had with the apartment itself. The water doesn't really get hot and gets ice cold in about 5 minutes, paper thin walls, poor circulation of HVAC, and door knobs that fall out of the doors.

I will critique my next places pretty thoroughly after living here. What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. Right?

Lazy post

This guy was pretty on-point, so I linked it:

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-mind-of-man-whats-going-on-in-our-heads-after-a-breakup/

TV rots your brain

I recently read a study that discovered unhappy people watch 30 percent more television than happy people. Article here:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20081115/sc_livescience/unhappypeoplewatchlotsmoretv

I am not ashamed to admit I watch TV, but I can live without it. Although, given my current situation, I've been watching a lot because it doesn't cost me any more than the monthly payment and, let's face it, I don't have anyone to hang out with anyway. That being said, there are shows that I like. One of them is Top Chef on Bravo. It is a cooking competition that pits up-and-coming chefs against each other. Granted, it is a reality game show, but it involves cooking and creativity which I enjoy watching. Unfortunately, I won't be able to view this season because the cable company doesn't have Bravo as an option in the basic cable package. My cable company is Comcast and I hate their service. Not only is there no Bravo, but the internet service is overpriced and awful; crashes way too often. On top of that, NBC has never come in clearly and that is one of the big four networks. I grew up with Time Warner Cable in Texas and had no complaints. TWC is cheaper, faster, and has more services. Yet another reason I miss the Lone Star State.

Ah, another lame post. Probably because I am unhappy...

Love does not conquer all.

Are you ready for some football?

When I was younger, I didn't really get into football. I'd watch the occasional game on the weekends, the obligatory Thanksgiving games, and the Super Bowl, but that was the extent of it. Sports never really interested me. I cared more about work and music. When I got to college, I still didn't care because I wanted to deny the meathead football fan stereotype and Baylor plays in the Big 12 South which means they'll probably never break .500. Plus, Sundays were devoted to studying. It wasn't until I left school that football really started to interest me.

The truth is football is really, really intricate and complicated. Far more than any other 'major' sport. Even the basics are difficult. Two teams of usually between 11 and 18 players try to score by throwing, carrying, or kicking the ball. When on offense, each team has four downs to go ten yards or score; whichever comes first. It is the only sport that you have more than one way to score points. Basically two: when the ball crosses into the end zone and when it passes through the uprights. In every other sport, there is only one way to score. Baseball, soccer, basketball, auto racing, and hockey all require only one way to score. For example: you can only score in baseball when a player steps on home plate. That is it. Just one example of the superiority of football. Everyone knows the basics, but dig a little deeper and the complexity is staggering.

I enjoy NCAA football, but the NFL is what I truly like. The NFL has 32 teams, divided into two sixteen-team conferences, each of which consists of four four-team divisions. The regular season is a seventeen-week schedule during which each team has one bye week and plays sixteen games. This schedule includes six games against a team's divisional rivals, as well as several inter-division and inter-conference games. Each team has players that are invariably assigned numbers based on their primary position. There are coaches, assistant coaches, and specialty coaches; you've got the offense, defense, and special teams; the NFL draft, the Pro Bowl, and the Super Bowl. Not to mention all the possible penalties that could be called in any given game. That just scratches the surface of the NFL's breadth. Here is a short, bullet list of terms that illustrate my point:

- Red Zone

- line of scrimmage

- 3 and out

- 3-step drop

- West Coast offense

- Nickel defense

- the 'Pocket'

Again, I'm only touching on a few aspects of it and I'm probably doing a poor job. My point is that my misconceptions about football and it's average fan have been shattered. Being some overweight, beer-guzzling, meathead frat boy isn't an accurate representation of average fandom. It actually takes intelligence to not only understand football, but to play. Case in point: Chad Pennington, the QB for the Miami Dolphins, is a Rhodes Scholar. So, much to the dismay of my 15-year-old self, I can say with confidence that I love me some football.

So...

I think the solitude is getting to me as illustrated by the previous post.

Step Yo Game Up

My clothing style has been described as kinda preppy. I can't really object to this claim, but, in my defense, I see nothing wrong with that. Wearing collared shirts is apparently prep. I do like argyle and patterns, but it's not like I pop said collars. Honestly, I rarely spend more than $40 on any individual article of clothing and it is most likely a pair of jeans. Most of the time I can't even find clothes that fit well enough to justify spending a lot. Truth be told, if I had unlimited funds I'd wear labels like Band of Outsiders, Neil Barrett, RL Purple Label, Diesel, and Rag & Bone which are waaayyy nicer than what I wear now.

I've decided I need to step it up as far as my personal style is concerned. Be more classically fashionable, but with modernity. Items that don't go out of style. That's the point of that story. I don't really know where I was going, so...the end.

I'd like to buy the world a Coke

I drank a Cherry Coke yesterday for the first time in years. It was better than I anticipated.

Keep telling myself I'm not the desperate type

When I first started collecting skin art I vowed to never get one void of meaning. Getting a permanent item on one's body carries a certain gravity with it, which is why I will never understand people getting logos or tattoos that lack timelessness. Case in point: Nightmare Before Christmas. Pretty sure The Academy won't be giving Tim Burton a lifetime achievement award in 25 years for his animation portfolio, but he just might get the "Most Tattooed Wire and Clay Holiday Character From a Motion Picture" award. Aesthetic reasons are a bit different, but everyone has their reasons I guess. I am determined to keep that personal oath made years ago, but we'll see how long it lasts.

What's interesting is how some have become more meaningful over time. Tattoos acquired years prior have grown deeper personal significance given the trauma or joy I've experienced in life. More pain than bliss, honestly, but it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Certain pieces carry abstractions, philosophies, and intricacies I never thought they would.

As we age, life experiences mold individuality. Family, friends, art, gains, losses, sexuality, education, love, hate, spirituality and all the other complexities we call 'life' inevitably shape who we become. Tattoos have the potential to do the same. They memorialize, convey spirituality, represent love gained and lost, lifestyle choices, create meaning, and, by definition, are artistic. They shape who we were, are, and will become.

What is 'V' for?

There are all types of blogs saturating the Internet waves in this day and age. perezhilton.com started as a blog and has become one of the premiere celeb gossip sites. Some blogs are devoted to art; others to weddings. The vast majority are most likely just personal ones akin to Xanga with pictures, vids, and musings broadcast to the world. That was my goal with McBloggersen here.

The dilemma is boundaries. Vulnerability is a tricky thing; honesty, too. Putting myself out there makes me vulnerable, but being honest can create tension. I have made the mistake of putting a friend on blast on the Internet and it creating problems. That particular relationship was never the same again. I'd like to be completely honest, but my attitude and phrasing complicates translation. There are so many gray areas to tip-toe around. Despite my hard candy shell, I have a nougatty center that does not want to completely destroy other human feelings. I'd just do it to their face or the good ole fashion way with a one-armed knife fight a la the "Beat It" music video. Having Eddie Van Halen play guitar over the fight would be bitchin', too.

To be clear, I have been reserved with divulging info and brain droppings(see what I did there?). I'd like to purge all the thoughts in my head onto the electronic media, but who knows what would happen? Would people be concerned about me? Would feelings get hurt? Does anyone even read this thing? Maybe I'll test the waters and see. Gradually.

Also, I'm pretty sure I am using semi-colons completely wrong.

I'll wear the label with pride

I debated what to post tonight, but it was inevitably kind of depressing. Instead, here is a link to an article in The NY Times about cat ownership among single, straight men like myself.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/05/fashion/05cats.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

Dead leaves fall with grace to saturated soil

With the exception of about a shot of tequila in the bottle in my freezer, I'm completely out of mind altering substances. I'll probably finish that off on Friday, so that will represent the last until I return to the Republic. Main reason is monetary; secondary reason is growth. Time to return to healthy habits. I'm getting past things. I think...

To assist in social anxiety fears I'm vowing to meet 100 people in 6 months. Starts January 1 and I have until July 1 to get it done. There will be documentation because A) I need proof and B) it is a conversation piece. Considering the majority of these interactions will be in the presence of alcohol, I'm debating buying the 'landmarks' drinks. Meaning numbers 1, 25, 50, and 100 will get free booze and possibly others like 7, 13, 37, and 69. It makes me feel generous and friendly. We shall see.

Available at Nordstrom

http://marknason.com/

This guy makes the ugliest, douchiest boots I've ever seen. I wouldn't recommend browsing the site for too long. Just a 5-10 second view of the home page is all that's needed.

I'm up early in the mornin cookin keys and eggs

Stupid blog. I just wrote 300 words and internet just crashed. Lost it all. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.

Sleep is the cousin of Death

I never used to have trouble sleeping. It wasn't unheard of to sleep 10 hours at a time. Now I have difficulty going to sleep and staying that way. Any little thing brings me out of slumber. Part of it could be because I'm sleeping on my futon instead of my bed and it isn't the most comfortable couch/bed to sleep on. My phone gets an automatic text message telling me the weather for the day at about 5 A.M. and that is enough to bring me out of it. As soon as I'm out of deep sleep, I start thinking and half the time it is enough to keep me awake. Going to sleep is worse because I can't shut down. I can't shut my brain off. Worry after worry keeps my mind from shutting down. The worst part is the subject doesn't really change; just a variation on a theme. That worry consumes me and I can't stop. Or sleep.

Minnesota trip

Highlights of trip to Minnesota:

- 50+ beers and 15ish shots in 5 days.

- A guy's mom punching me in the face for attempting chivalry by kissing her hand which actually didn't happen. I just thought it happened.

- Micah to the 5 of us in the Chrysler minivan: "Listen assholes! I get laid more than any of you"!

- Mickey's diner.

- Mall of America was dissapointing. I expected it to be grandiose like I remembered from D2.

- Kill Bill, Vols. 1 and 2 are good movies to watch drinking games to.

- There are some creepy, annoying dudes in the bars.

- "The Elvis" burger. Peanut butter and bacon on a burger. Delicious!

- Everyone smokes. Everywhere, too. I met twenty people and every one of them smoked. They do it everywhere, too. In their cars, in the house after breakfast, inside, outside, etc.

That's all I got for now. I'll add more as I remember.

I'm beginning to think there is something really wrong with me. I got invited to play poker at a sort of SW party thing tonight and I didn't go. Complaints about lack of friends and being miserable are numerous and when I do get a pity invitation, I turn it down. That's ridiculous. Granted, I did work a 13 hour day, but I showered, got dressed and then just paced my apartment for an hour debating whether I should go. I did not. I thrive on my loneliness or something.

"Misery loves company" has been the phrase of the past week. Apparently not. For me, misery hates company. I'd rather be alone to wallow than bring others down. I found out I'm getting an iPhone for X-mas and it still wasn't enough to lift my spirits to socialize. The spirits I turn to are not uplifting. Zing. I worry. And obsess on the worry.

The ironic part in all this is not only do I have the stomach tattoo, but the title of my blog is about challenging times in life making one a better person. Guess that means I will be Superman strong soon.

Friday was especially bad. Mainly because it was Halloween. The personal significance of the date and being a traditionally social holiday made it more painful. I drank and watched bad horror movies on television. Jimmy and I got into a drunken text fight. After a cry and low point of the night I decided to snap pics to document my downfall. Here is the result:

If the emo shoe fits...

i'll wear it

My current favorite commercial

It happened...

I will save the recap of my trip to the North Star state for tomorrow. Instead, I will simply say something I dreaded finally occurred. It was therapeutic, but still felt shameful. The event was bound to happen. I didn't know how or under what circumstances, but it overtook me. Just like that. Without warning. I don't know where to go from here...

moose-stashes

Fu Manchu :
















Handlebar:

Dain Bramage

In the current issue of GQ, there is an article about neurofeedback. Which, according to wikipedia, is also called neurotherapy, neurobiofeedback or EEG biofeedback (EEGBF) and is a therapy technique that presents the user with realtime feedback on brainwave activity, as measured by sensors on the scalp, typically in the form of a video display, sound or vibration. It allows you to tap into the depths of your brain and control it. One sits motionless in front a TV with a bunch of sensors hooked up to the scalp and tries to get the images on the screen to respond according to brainwaves. Training your brain. If you can pinpoint stresses in life or areas that need improvement, measures can be taken to counteract the feeling and you can actually train the brain's reaction. With time, memory, reaction time, and stress can be improved simply by training your brain. This is amazing to me and probably totally worth the exorbitant amount of money one has to spend to get this training. There are actually quite a few websites that come up when googling the term. I am merely a simpleton who can't fully comprehend the science/technology, so searches can be done. Actually being able to completely control one's own mind? That is science leaping forward.

¿Dónde Está la Biblioteca?

I am of the belief that it's better to know a little about everything than a lot about one thing. Having knowledge in a vast array of subjects is far more beneficial than knowing every possible aspect of one field. In an attempt to not only better myself, but distract thoughts of recent events, I have set out to learn or improve various skills. Becoming bilingual for instance. I know enough Spanish to survive in Mexico and sell paint, but I can't really have a conversation with an Amigo. Meaning I can order food and drink, ask where the road/bathroom/hotel/library is, and sell paint and associated products. That is more of a long term thing, but moving back to Texas will undoubtedly help. I am also going to attempt to learn the basics of piano. To not only help my understanding of music, but hopefully improve my bass playing abilities. On top of those goals, I might be going back to school in some form. Teaching certification, trade, grad, etc. Perhaps I'm being too ambitious? Overloading my plate with talents and tedious tasks. Even if I don't master any of these things, it doesn't matter because I'll still be better for it.

Country v. Ghetto

I've noticed something interesting. In the slang vernacular, calling one's actions (or lack there of) 'country' or 'ghetto', are probably interchangeable depending on location. Example:

"You drink out of jelly jars? That is so _______."

The words 'country' or 'ghetto' could be used here and not be out of place. It is known that drinking fluids out of glass jars formerly containing food is an action done in rural and urban settings to save money. Realistically, it is a matter of income class. A 'poor thing', if you will, but no one is going to say, "Dude, that is so poor." That is just insulting. Disguising a not-so-clever observation on one's wealth with their general geography is endearing and somewhat amusing. Not insulting.

Here are a few more examples to prove my point:

- propping furniture up with phonebooks/cinder blocks

- owning a gun

- any unusual action in a vehicle (i.e. having to roll down window to unlock door)

- tattoos of names of significant others

You get the idea. Pretty much any action where one is unwilling to spend money to fix or improve things they cannot afford.

This is kind of funny because I'm willing to bet 90% of the time a phrase, "That is so ghetto/country," is said by upper-middle class individuals. Such is life.

revoke my poetic license?

pen/paper search during slumberless nite yields an unexpected find in the bottom drawer of memories close by bedside manor.
a traveler's turquoise feather.
a gift.
scrawled with well-wishes and safe-journey hopes entombed in a single dino-stitched mocha suitcase with heart-shaped lining.
taken for granted.
most assuredly.
once a feathery stowaway in canvas and leather pouch for good luck on distant voyages.
no longer talisman.
merely a sullen reminder of Love lost stashed in cognitive hull for safekeeping.

Soup & Crackers

I have a list of topics to blog about on my coffee table. Right next to my whole grain croissant and evening tea. Probably fifteen or more random droppings, but none seem appropriate or I don't feel like going into it. There is a chasm I feel this nite. I'd like to discuss it, but I don't know what I'm feeling. At a loss for what to type. Just a blinking cursor on white in the 'Compose' box staring back at me. You are no comfort this hour, Blog Spot.

Quote

Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say and not giving a damn.
- Gore Vidal

Friends! How many of us have them?

Second post in one day. I don't understand why I'm incapable of meeting new people. Since leaving school, excluding work and friend acquaintances, I have made no new friends. I'm pretty sure I know how I could, but it would mean changing who I am. Even if I was to start drinking coffee, buy a laptop, start smoking, go to bars or do whatever else needed to interact with strangers, I believe my appearance would hinder it. Somehow, I'm not approachable. Excluding the tattoos, I've decided it's because of my Y chromosome. All a semi-attractive female has to do is exist. She could be minding her own business, nose in book or notebook, and a stranger (probably male) will approach unprovoked and initiate conversation. This never happens to me. I could sit on a bench in a park reading a book for hours and no one will approach. Friends of mine have said they were intimidated by me before getting to know me, so maybe that's it. I just need to stop scowling.

Odd weather we're having...

The weather here in the Pacific Northwest has turned. It's been a gradual process over the past few weeks, but is here to stay. Cool and rainy again. The stereotypical idea of this region. I'll be departing in eight weeks or so and can honestly say the weather will be missed. I enjoy it. Sweaters come out, hoods go up, and umbrellas get ruffled. To me, it feels like Halloween. How I'll miss thee.

Attack!

I found this picture really amusing.

Nothing feels good

In my original post I stated the emo entries would be kept to a minimum, but it's hard when feeling depressed and the glowing screen of a computer monitor and blog are at your fingertips. As previously stated, I have no one else to converse with. Well, I do, but they are a thousand miles away or don't wanna talk. The alternative is drowning sorrows with alcohol and wallowing in self-pity, but doing it alone seems pathetic. Although, it sounds appealing right now and I'd be lying if I said I'd never done it. Maybe tomorrow night I'll be pathetic.

I almost walked out of work today. I was grinding teeth. Dealing with the public in a retail setting can be frustrating to no end. The addition of constant knots/butterflies in stomach (maybe heart is a better organ to describe it), hating the job, and a headache just amplify the problem. It would have been therapeutic, but only temporarily so. Besides, I'm already known as the "scruffy guy who never smiles." Adding 'loose cannon' to my description sure wouldn't help.

There are thousands of movies, books, songs, and albums that confront the subject of heartbreak. My therapy albums are Taking Back Sunday's Tell All Your Friends and Weezer's Pinkerton. Excluding the Asian fetish in the latter, they ring true for me. There is a comfort I can't get from human beings. Something about the lyrics. Guess I'm a simple-minded fool for letting such childish emo lyricism be meaningful.

Along with 'scruffy' and 'never smiling', 'jerk' and 'asshole' are titles I'm given (see previous post). I put up walls to prevent people from getting too close so I don't get hurt. It's comforting and moving every 5 years growing up always made me the quiet, new kid at school so I didn't smile much and only spoke when spoken to. Case in point: after 25 years, I only have 2 close friends. When I do let someone in, I inevitably end up getting hurt. Disrespect or heartache or whatever.

Alright, I'm done. All the balloons have finished falling on my pity party.

Are you ready for some football?

I would hate to be Cooper Manning. He is the oldest brother of the Manning clan. Meaning his father and two youngest brothers are, or were, quarterbacks in the NFL. Good quarterbacks at that. He is the only male offspring of Archie Manning not to have a Super Bowl ring.

What a terrbile feeling.

Metallica - Death Magnetic

Any time a band of Metallica's magnitude drops an album, there will be much hoopla. Death Magnetic is no exception. After the fallout that was St. Anger, their 8th studio album, a myriad of queries about the follow-up ensued. The band ditched long-time producer Bob Rock in favor of producer extraordinaire Rick Rubin. Buzz was positive from the beginning, but much skepticism filled the air.

Death Magnetic is easily their best album of original material in a decade. The album illustrates a return to the thrash metal roots of yesteryear with the melodic pop sensibilities of latter work. Palm muting, fast tempos, and time changes mixed with catchy hooks and melodious choruses make for a pretty diverse record. The shortest song clocks in at just over 5 minutes while the longest is nearly double that. Production values have vastly improved, but are still lacking. A return to complicated riffs and solos galore make Metallica seem almost youthful and downright hungry. Death falters in more than a few ways, but top to bottom is a solid record.

The record is remarkably dense in areas, but lean in others. "That Was Just Your Life" is the opener and is a return to form with a crescendoing intro, is up-tempo throughout, and has dueling guitars, but the verses leave something to be desired. Good way to start the album though the heartbeat intro is a bit cheesy. "The Day That Never Comes," the first single, has several tempo changes and a ridiculous number of riffs crammed into one song, as does "All Nightmare Long." The latter also has a damn catchy chorus. "Cyanide" has the feel of later Metallica material (and not in a good way) and almost seems to be haphazardly cut and pasted together in Pro-Tools. "The Unforgiven III" is not terrible as anticipated, but is a mid-tempo, piano and violin filled 'ballad' that would be more suited for ReLoad, or even the Black Album, rather than here. It just feels forced. One highlight of Death Magnetic is the return to an instrumental track with "Suicide & Redemption." The song seems like a studio jam rather than a calculated composition and, for what it's worth, works well. It's nice not to hear James Hetfield singing every once in a while, too. The outstanding track on Death Magnetic is undoubtedly, "My Apocalypse." Like "Battery" and "Blackened" before it, "My Apocalypse" is just a fast, brutal, chunky aural overload that closes the final minutes of the album.

One of the best aspects of Death Magnetic is how lead guitarist Kirk Hammett shreds all over it. Some songs even have multiple solos. The wah pedal he is accustomed to, and is his signature sound, is a bit overdone at times. Especially the intro for "Cyanide," but it could be worse. Lars Ulrich's drumming leaves something to be desired, but he gets the job done. Fills in "Suicide & Redemption" are lackluster at best. Too many cymbal hits drown out the toms and kick, and he rarely diverges from the 'ump-pah' standard. Double kick is used sparingly. Officially bassist Rob Trujillo's first studio album with Metallica, it's even more evident the Hetfield-Ulrich songwriting team does not let bass players contribute to the writing process. His sound is overly distorted and chugging in contrast to former bassist Jason Newsted's punchy, cleaner sound and although Trujillo's technicality is closer to original bassist Cliff Burton's, his parts on Death Magnetic are timid.

Singer and guitarist James Hetfield gets points for sweet riffs and song structure, but gets cancelled out by his awful lyricism. In previous interviews, Hetfield stated that he only became a singer, instead of just playing guitar, because the band needed one. The genre of heavy metal has never been known for stellar lyrics as long as subject matter was dark and includes some of the following things: blood, war, insanity, death, etc. You get the idea. Death Magnetic has these topics, so Het gets a pass. However, I will reprint this gem from "The Day That Never Comes": "Love is a four-letter word and never spoken here."

Death Magnetic is a great album. Beginning to end, it's listenable, chaotic, refined, melodic and still heavy. Maybe not the best of 2008, and not one of Metallica's best, either. Save for a few, the songs stand alone and will be in Metallica set lists for years to come. While it's easy to label this a comeback, Metallica have to deliver on the next studio album with equal or greater results, which is no small feat. Heavy metal has come a long way since it's peak of popularity in the 80's and Metallica is one of the few, if not the only, bands who has stood the test of time. Assuming the band can stay together, don't be surprised to see the Mighty Metallica playing the Super Bowl half-time show in several years.

Pour a glass

I dwell in the realm of cynicism. A pessimist attitude, if you will. The glass is half empty. I prepare for the worst in almost all situations; never believing the best outcome will present itself the majority of the time. I am content with this viewpoint because it works for me. I call it realism. Simply put, it makes my outlook on life win-win. Going into a situation anticipating the worst means if the worst possible scenario happens, I was right. If the best possible outcome occurs, it means I was wrong but feel good anyway because the best thing happened. Win-win.

Applied to real life, it works out rather well. Anticipating my order at a restaurant will be wrong when it arrives. Expecting a film will be lackluster before viewing. Assuming someone in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, will let me down or abandon me. The end result in every case, whether good or bad means I end up less hurt or justified (which is a self-esteem boost).

There is a downside. People dislike me for being a 'downer' or I get labeled an 'asshole' or something equally derogatory. When individuals look to me for support, I let them down because I unconsciously inject skepticism into my response where a positive, uplifting answer would have been appropriate. I hate it sometimes. The look on another soul's face when you have inadvertently crushed them is not an image one files under 'pleasantries'. It makes me feel horrible.

The truth is I probably use cynicism as a guard so others won't get too close. As far as life goes, it's the best coping device I have and I grasp it tightly. I like to think other individuals do as well, but perhaps not to the same extent.

Being 25 and rapidly approaching another birthday, I seriously doubt anything will change much. I'm of the belief half-full/half-empty glasses are nurture and not nature. I'm comfortable with myself and I like to think self-confidence and self-esteem are not mutually exclusive. The best I can hope for is some semblance of compassion or empathy when confronted with the conundrums of others. As cliche as it sounds, life can be tough, but people change. I just don't know if I am one of those people.

Give Pizza A Chance

Recently I had the pleasure of eating at Give Pizza A Chance, a food cart in downtown Portland. Between 4th and 5th on SW Stark, actually. I became interested in the place because some TX connects contributed monetarily to the start of the business. What's great about this place is all the disposable kitchenware is biodegradable. Only the napkins are made from wood. The plates are grass pulp, the cups are corn starch and the forks are potato starch.

The variety of pizza was nice. Something for everyone. Vegan veggie pizza for the strict herbivores and pepperoni and sausage for the carnivores. I chose the Greek from the recommendation of the server who was pleasant. Feta, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, red onions, olives and drizzle of olive oil in place of red sauce. Tasty for sure. The ingredients were noticeably fresh and the half white half wheat crust was crispy on the outside and moist inside. Great stuff for a food cart.

The really stellar part of the meal were the handmade sodas. Four varieties were available and I tried the cucumber lime and lemon mint. Both were refreshing and not overly sugary or carbonated. The lemon mint was perfectly balanced and was like a mojito sans booze. Bring your own cup because they are a steal at 75 cents.

I would highly recommend this place to any PDX residents in downtown around lunchtime.

$2-$3 slice

$3 greek salad

$1.50 hand-crafted soda (.75 your cup)

$1 for 3 garlic breadsticks

$6 for three of above items

$10 for whole cheese pie, $2 for toppings (allow 20 min)

spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, olives, peppers, onions, potatoes, pepperoni, italian sausage, feta, blue cheese

Ho hum

I've unfortunately realized that I use this blog to 'talk to'. I have no real person to rant to and listen to my inane stupid brain droppings, so this is how I get out my creative juices.

I need to get into a band again or start welding sculptures.

Check out Raul Allen. Wicked cool stuff.

http://www.rrallen.com/

Cat on a hot tin roof

For those who know me, it is no secret I love cats. I'm an animal lover, but as far as pets go, cats are better than any alternative. Although, felines only slightly win over canines. I won't go into details because that is another post, so for wordiness sake let it be said: I love cats.

Specifically my cat. He goes by many names, but for the time being I'll refer to him by his given name: Mikey. The reason I mention my cat fancy is because I have come to a realization. When he dies I will be a wreck. I most assuredly will weep like a little girl and may do so for a week or more. This is not an epiphany. Here's the thing: his death will have a greater affect on my life than the death of the majority of my friends and family.

Let's get a few things clear. I'm not going to have Mikey cremated and put in an urn on my bookcase. He'll be buried and there will be no eulogy. I think. I'm not a crazy cat person who wants 5 felines running around a chaotic hair filled house either.

Close/best friends will be worse than Mikey's death, but we're talking three people at most. Acquaintances are understandable because they are just that. Family is a bit different, though. I won't name names, but I know of one close family member in particular that if, God forbid, did perish I would shed no tears. This got me to self-evaluate.

Am I a bad person for grieving over an animal more than a human being? What does that say about my psychological state? Do I have priorities way out of whack?

Truth is people get very attached to pets, but isn't that surprising when one considers the intricacies of pet ownership. Each animal has a distinct personality just like a human being and therefore creates a definite emotional connection. Physical touch can be more frequent than human touch and, at times, more rewarding. Pets don't cheat or lie to get what they want. The hours spent with house pets alone is enough to understand it. I spend an average of 12+ hours a day (including sleep) with Mikey. Even with work, vacations, etc. The life span of the average cat is about 15 years. That is a long time to cohabitate with any living entity.

I do care about my cat more than the vast majority of people. So say what you will, but I'm comfortable with who I am.

OMG! Your so hott : ) LOL!!!111

So I screwed up and loaded the previous post after midnight, which put it on Tuesday. I planned for Tuesdays to be album review days, so I'll start next week.

My rant today is about how bad individuals are about the whole your/you're grammatical thing. It astonishes me how often I see the possessive 'your' where the contraction 'you're' should be used. Especially on blogs and networking sites. It's not even as difficult as the there/their/they're issue because there are only two options instead of three. Don't believe me? Check out Facebook and look at comments to photos and wall posts. There will no doubt be at least two or three errors.

The worst offenders I see are those under age 20. My 15 y/o sister has bad grammar and is an awful speller. As bad as she is, her friends are worse. She goes to private school, too. Therefore, the lack of funding in public schools is not solely to blame. She wants to be a teacher. I told her I didn't want her teaching my kids.

It's no wonder the rest of the world hates the U.S. when this nation doesn't even have a rudimentary grasp of the national language. Probably because of writing and texting with abbreviations too much (see y/o above), being too rushed, and the crappy schools. God bless America!

Hairy and the Hendersons

I'm getting old. We all age and at some point in life humans begin to see signs, overt and covert, that make us look/feel old. Crow's feet and weight gain are a couple examples. However, the worst sign of aging for all men has to be the dreaded [GASP!] male pattern baldness.

MPB can be rough for some, and nonexistent to others, but most males will experience it in some form or another. Everything from the 'Eye of the Hurricane' (bald spot on top center of head where hair growth spirals out) to the 'Devil Lock' (an extreme widow's peak where the hair line recedes on both sides instead of the middle). When men reach a certain hair loss point, most try to compensate with facial hair. There is also the practice of wearing hair very short or shaving one's head completely. Which brings me to my quandary...

Skinny white guys with bald heads and facial hair look awful. Specifically, shaved heads and full beards, but other facial hair forms apply. Key terms here being 'skinny' or 'thin' and 'white' or 'Caucasian'. A 6'3" 280lb man of any race will look fine chrome-domed and bushy-faced. Look at any NFL lineman or Rick Ross. A 5'11" 150lb man of any race BUT Caucasian will look fine, too. I can't think of a famous example right now, but I'm sure you can imagine it. That same size man with lack of melanin will look goofy and weird.

MPB scares me so much because I'm a skinny white guy. I also have, and enjoy, a beard, but I have long hair and plan on keeping it that way for a while. The Jesus look has been pretty good to me. Even with the subtraction of facial hair I look handsome, but about 5-8 years younger. Long hair and clean shaven is good. The addition of bald to my description makes for a potentially frightening future.

It's pretty safe to say I'm not gonna balloon up to 200lbs anytime soon. Even if I pack on the standard 1lb every year after age 30, that will only put me at 160lb by age 50. Now add a shaved bald head and bushy beard. Me in 25 years: heavily tattooed, 5'11'' 160lb middle-aged white guy with glistening scalp and mountain-man face. Not a pretty picture, but there is always the chance I will keep my beautiful locks until old age.

So maybe I should pray to the follicle gods to bless me, but until then, here's to the future!

It begins...

I went and done did it. Got me a blog. Decided to distance myself from the limitations of networking sites and here is said result.

First and foremost, I must give credit where it is due. Brain Droppings is a book by George Carlin. The man was a genius and I felt the particular phrase best described the content of what will materialize here. Various droppings trickled down from my grey matter. Pretty much what I find frustrating, titilating, tasty, and wonderous. I'll probably rant a lot(that's the frustration part), but topics will be as varied as the state of hip-hop, best type of mexican food and where to get it, stupid tattoos, and why cats are better than dogs. Plus the occasional obligatory embedded YouTubery.

The astonishing thing about blogs is the tendency to voyeurism. A written passage to mindsoulbody. Therefore, I will do my best not to make emoy posts like I did with Xanga. Not saying it won't happen, but I'll keep it to a minimum.

So ends post one. I'm gonna try my best to update daily or, at the very least, weekly. Onward and upward...