The Absent Sounds of Me

My thoughts have a new home.

See you around.

One day, I hope that someone uses the phrase "trail of destruction" to describe the aftermath of my presence in a room. Awesome.

I keep telling myself to update this thing... but then decide to do something else.

"I regret that the music has turned horribly French."

Go see The Brothers Grimm. Hands down, my favorite film of 2005. A visual masterpiece.

Iron & Wine w/ Calexico - In the Reins

As he is wont to do, Iron & Wine has followed up one exceptional album with another.

Although the seven song EP doesn't actually hit shelves until September 13th, some wonderful individual posted it online here for your (temporary) downloading pleasure.

I have only listened to the first 2 tracks thus far, so I can't really give a reliable review just yet. All I can say at this point is that "He Lays in the Reins" and "Prison on Route 41" are, hands down, two of the best songs I have heard so far this century.

And just in case you forgot, Calexico will be touring with Sam as his backup band this fall. Tour dates available here.

My departing flight to Las Vegas lifts off exactly one and a half hours after I get off from working a nine-hour 5 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. shift. Couple that with four straight days of 5 hours or less of sleep and you have the makings of one hell of a catastrophic alcohol-induced mental shutdown looming just over the horizon.

I promised Amanda that I would send her a text message every 4-5 hours specifically detailing my current financial standing at the blackjack tables. It's kinda like the scrolling ticker that runs along the bottom of C-SPAN informing viewers of where the NASDAQ is currently standing, only this one will be updated on a regular basis by a highly shitfaced insomniac who happens to be willingly submitting to his inner gambling addict at 4:30 in the morning.

My digital camera is fixed and back in my hands. Expect a picture post upon my return. Don't expect much else in the update department after that as I have made a solemn promise to myself to start writing my short-story-to-be-turned-eventually-into-a-novel after I return.

Production starts an hour early today, which means I do too. One should never have to get out of bed at 3:45 in the morning. It just isn't right. It's going to take a steady flow of caffeine to keep me going past 8:00 tonight.

Road trip to Schlitterbahn this weekend. Las Vegas next weekend. Don't expect many updates out of me between then and now...not that you've been getting any over the last several weeks to begin with.

"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past." ~George Orwell~

I don't really feel the need to go into a lengthy explanation on my reasons for deleting nearly two and a half years worth of archived journal entries other than simply stating that I want this blog to be a reflection of who I currently am and not who I formerly was.

To those of you who actually went back every so often to read those atrocious ramblings - sorry.

There are two things in this world that I truly love. One of them is cinematic depictions of the spiritual downfall of mankind. The other is films starring Keanu Reeves.¹

Constantine has both.


1. Seriously.

I have a new cell phone. If you want/need the new number, just let me know. I'm far too lazy to take the initiative and call everyone in my address book in order to update them. Fuck that.

This way, the ball is now in all of your proverbial courts. If you don't get my new number, it's your own damn fault.

PS - Semi-quality updates coming soon. Promise.

Words fail me.

The logic board on my laptop went out for the 5th time in 25 months today. I called Apple and told them that I needed to speak with someone who was going to replace my machine. I told them that repairing it for the 5th motherfucking time wasn't going to be good enough. I told them that if they insisted on me sending it to them, that it had better have been so that they could melt the son of a bitch down and make an iPod out of it. I told them that there was no way in hell that I was going to settle for another round of repairs this time. Josh, my customer service rep, agreed with me.

Josh's boss did not share Josh's feelings. He said that he was unable to send me a replacement machine at this point in time because he believed that they had finally isolated the faulty part and this repair was going to fix it once and for all. I told him that that statement was bullshit because it was exactly the same fucking thing they had told me on the phone the 4th time my logic board went out (which was only 4 months ago). He said that the matter was out of his hands and that the best he could do was to repair my machine. Again. And I agreed. Because I am a fucking push over.

I let everyone wear me down. I always have and I always will. I cannot, for the life of me, stand up for myself for longer than 5 minutes. After that time I return to my normal insolent-puppy self and let whoever I happen to be confronting back me into a corner and reprimand me until I finally cave in and submit to their demands. I absolutely hate that about myself, but I am completely unable to change it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried.

I'm so fucking irritated right now and essentially none of that is directed at Apple. I'm just mad at myself for letting some douchebag customer complain manager talk me into accepting the one fucking thing I swore to myself I was not going to allow happen when I picked up the phone in the first place. I'm angry with myself for being too pathetic to stand up for something that I know I am entitled to. But even more than all of that, I'm just upset because I knew that I was going to give in before I ever dialed the fucking number.

The logic board on my iBook will go out again. I will call Apple in a fit of rage demanding a new product and some tart wearing a $7 tie from JC Penny will blow smoke up my ass about how he doesn't have the authority to replace my machine until I finally throw my hands up and send my laptop in for another round of useless goddamn repairs. The cycle will be repeated because I allow it to be repeated. Every single fucking time.

Man, I have been so busy lately that I this poor journal has been terribly neglected. As much as I love writing in this thing, the feeling of finally having tons of stuff to accomplish on a daily basis far outweighs whatever obligation I feel to update my livejournal. Sorry, but it's the truth.

Work is going well. The early shift isn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. The only time I dislike it is when I have to leave places or events early in order to be in bed before 11:00. And as most of you already know, my life is rarely exciting enough for this to ever become a significant problem. Every now and again something pops up, but it has yet to become a major inconvenience. All in all, I really love finally having a big boy job.

Now that the money is slowly beginning to trickle back in, I think that I am going to start looking at apartments here in the next couple of weeks. I hate that entire process (especially when knowing that it is ultimately going to result in another move - ugh), but it sure as hell beats living with the fam for much longer than a month.

Well, it's 9:00 p.m. and that can only mean one thing - Bedtime for Bonzo. Later.

It's about damn time.



Iron & Wine, October 29th, The Ridglea Theater

Clear you calendars, you bitches are going with me. You know you want to.

Work was good today, unlike yesterday. Due to some sampling problems in the chemistry department, the production line I was scheduled to supervise, which was supposed to begin running at 6:30 a.m., got placed on hold until 12:30. I spent those five and a half hours working on paperwork that should help to get the rest of the morning crew caught up on various things for at least a couple of days. Despite the beneficial results of the work that I accomplished yesterday morning, that alone was did not help to alleviate the incredible boredom that is associated with filling out forms and staring at production schedules for nearly six hours.

Today was a different story. I had to watch two different lines this morning, both of which managed to hit transition points at the exact same time. Shifting back and forth between them made my morning sail by. Ninety minutes had passed before I even realized that I had missed my usual breakfast break time. Needless to say, the rest of the day went by just as quickly. Nothing beats the feeling of working an eight-hour sift that feels like a four-hour one.

On another work-related note: my first paycheck arrived today. I forgot how awesome it feels to not be broke. So that's good.

* * *

Acting on a whim this morning, I decided to weigh myself after getting out of the shower. Don't ask me how, but over the last three weeks or so I have managed to lose eight pounds. This is especially surprising when considering that I eat a huge breakfast every morning at work.¹ The only explanation I can come up with is that it must be some combination of a job that keeps me on my feet for 60% of my day along with not being awake to eat the 2:15 a.m. snack² that I became accustomed to consuming while in grad school.

* * *

Life is really, really good right now. Lots of different things seem to be simultaneously coming together and, as disconnected as some of them are, the picture that is unfolding as a result is the most promising one I have seen in a long time. I'm happy.


1. I can get two biscuits with gravy, two strips of bacon and a serving of scrambled eggs in the Alcon cafeteria for $2.15. The quality of the food is about twice that of what you would find at most Waffle Houses.

2. And when I say "snack" I really mean "large meal."

Does anyone out there know enough about HTML to help me figure out where in the hell I am supposed to insert the following HTML code in order to get my LiveJournal to support the < blockquote > tag?

blockquote {
margin: 10px 15px;
}

It goes somewhere. I just don't know where.

Adam Morris, the administrator of Lone Star Ball.com, echoed the sentiments of Rangers fans everywhere in his post last night:

The 2005 Rangers -- this same young nucleus -- has been going out and giving everything they have once again, even while the bullpen has fallen apart, while Ryan Drese turned back into a pumpkin and Kenny Rogers had his meltdown and the same holes that the team had at the end of last season just continued to get bigger.

And management has given these guys James Baldwin and Kevin Gryboski.

With the post-ASB flameout, this season is now over. The Rangers are out of the race, and need to start building for next season.

[...]

I don't think anyone can reasonably blame the players, the core of this team, for the failure that is the Rangers' 2005 season. Blalock, Young, Mench, Teixeira, even Soriano, who I've ripped...they key guys here have stepped up and done all that can be reasonably expected.

Which is what makes it all the more galling to hear that Tom Hicks, when asked about his players saying that they want management to do something to improve this team, thinks that they just need to play better.

The blame for this failure of a season can be laid at the feet of two people: Tom Hicks and John Hart.

I don't know how the blame should be apportioned. I don't know how much of management's failure is due to Hicks' refusal to spend money, and how much is due to Hart's inability to do anything constructive with the resources he has.

And really, at this point, I don't care all that much.

Year after fucking year, fans like myself have to sit here and watch John Hart and Tom Hicks drive the proverbial nails into the coffin of their own fucking pennant hopes. These two men find new ways every season to proudly display their incompetence for all the world to see.

The Rangers are blessed right now with the most talented young team in the major leagues. All this team is lacking is a pitching staff that can hold opposing hitters to 4 or fewer runs per game. That is literally all it would take to bring a World Series trophy home to Arlington. But John Hart and Tom Hicks would rather acquire free agents such as James Baldwin and Kevin Gryboski, two players who have absolutely nothing to offer a team desperately fighting to keep their postseason chances alive.

Thanks for screwing North Texas yet again, Tom and John. Go fuck yourselves.

I hate having other people take pictures with my camera. It has nothing at all to do with me being OCD about my electronic toys or anything like that. They just always fuck it up. Always. And I don't understand why.

It horrifies to know that these people are out in the world taking photographs of important moments in their lives. If they can't get any of my pictures in focus, how in the living hell are they doing it for themselves?

( Exhibits A-C )

Not two minutes after the "photograph" of Kristina and I was taken, the cosmic fates proved, beyond any lingering shadow of a doubt, that they are indeed conspiring against me by causing my camera to stop working. Go fucking figure. The one day when I actually remember to bring my camera with me, it breaks right in the middle of me putting it to good use. I fucking hate irony.

Needles to say, I wound up with essentially zero decent pictures from one of my closest friend's wedding. Here are the four that I managed to take before my camera shitted out on me indefinitely.

( Oh my god, they're in focus...but boring )

Now, if you will please excuse me as I go rummage through my file cabinet in a desperate attempt to remember if I purchased an extended warranty for this camera. gah

If you haven't seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory yet, then I highly recommend that you alter your plans for tomorrow evening so as to include a viewing of this film. I haven't laughed that hard at a film in a long, long time.

Honestly though, how can you not love a film that includes a musical farewell to Mike Teavee featuring Oompa Loompas dressed in KISS-esque spandex attire performing a mock 80s glam rock concert? You just can't.

*smiles*

I've been listening to Eisley a lot this week. Room Noises hasn't been removed from the car stereo since I first put it in on Tuesday.



While the musicianship within the group is nothing to write home about, it sure as hell hasn't stopped them from writing fantastic indie pop-rock. The melodies and vocals are what really stand out on Room Noises (even more so than on their previous releases). It's hard to listen to this album without getting three or four songs stuck in your head simultaneously.

The only qualm that I have with Eisley is that their lyrics are incredibly girlish and borderline retarded. A perfect example of this can be heard in the song "Plenty of Paper" where Sherri (or maybe Stacy, I can't really tell which one is singing at any particular moment) sings, "I cut the moon in half and stuck a piece to my hair and made the back of my head glow golden yellow, and then I took 10 stars on sticks and placed them in my small meadow." Whatever you say, darling. I guess you can't really hold that against them, seeing as how both of the lead vocalists are too young to purchase alcohol in the states.

I realize that admitting to liking Eisley is a big 'No-No' in most music elitist circles. Oh well, I don't really care. My response to people who criticize me for genuinely liking Eisley is always the same: At least I'm not fucking listening to Smoosh.