October 25th – Fern Park, FL
Matt Mose hates vegetables and doesn’t like most meats (…). Kyle Knight will eat anything but bananas and watermelon. I don’t eat meat, but will eat a lot of different vegetables. Oliver usually prefers foods that aren’t meat and Chris doesn’t seem to mind any food that much. Claxton works at a Pizza place and likes things customized and complicated. Ordering pizza for the 6 of us is literally impossible.
October 26th – Sarasota, FL
For the record, and I am not going to say this again, but writing a record about Moby Dick is infinitely less silly that writing about Vikings. There is absolutely not way to argue about this, there is no debate, it is just a simple solid fact of life.
October 27th – Sarasota, FL
If I was interested in DJs and Dance bands and going to a venue to watch dancy pop bands and DJs perform, I suppose I would be a little bummed out by Mose Giganticus too.
October 28th – Sarsota, FL
The reason Paranormal Activity is such a horrifying film is because it takes all of the elements of the Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield that totally sucked (Never seeing the ghost or carnage or seeing the monster too much respectively) and fixed them. There is absolutely nothing you can do to protect yourself when you are asleep, especially from a goddamn ghost. Emphatically the most terrifying movie I have seen in the past decade, and I wish Adrianna was here to watch it with me, even though I know there is no way I could ever force her to watch this movie. Still the idea of her vehemently resisting seeing this movie with me is something I miss the hell out of.
I miss my dogs, too.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
FestQuest Pt 1 of.....
October 19th – Atlanta, GA
At what point does a band stop being from Philadelphia and start hailing from Atlanta?
October 20th – Greenville, SC
Club Escape either once was, or might currently still be a strip club. There are cages for GoGo dancers on either side of the stage and no less than three stripper poles. This is what my life has come to.
October 21st – Athens, GA
We nickel and dimmed our way into about 30 gallons of decent grease. Being able to travel for free certainly has its disadvantages that no one really considers…when you fill up your car from QuickTrip, their isn’t just a huge bucket of gasoline that you have to suck out, filter, and put in your tank all the while getting it all over yourself, your clothes and every last possession you own. On top of that, the band Music Hates You just made me feel like the biggest poser ever. Some gnarly dudes getting some brutal sounds out of some bullshit amps. Its like in all those kids sports movies where the shitty underdog team takes on the real polished team, and even though they might not always win, at least the underdog put on a hell of a fight. That’s kind of how I feel about their amps versus my amps, and I am incredibly sad that I have put this much thought into a metaphor involving goddamn amplifiers.
October 22: - Charleston, SC
4:00am: Arrive in Atlanta. Pack, process oil.
4:45am: Arrive at Ethel St. Kiss girlfriend, cuddle, set alarm to wake up at 8:50, plan to hit the road at 10:30
5:15am: Sleep
9:35am: Awake. Drink soda, drive to Smyrna, load bags in IZ, awaken travelers.
11:30am: Leave to pick up Claxon and Kyle
12:00ish: Pick up Kyle and Claxton, head towards Charleston
6:50pm: Arrive in Charleston. Find Upperdeck Tavern, which is down a narrow hallway and up a large, narrow flight of stairs.
7:15pm: Sigh profoundly. Start loading in gear, fully knowing that within an hour it all has to come back out
7:45pm: Mose Giganticus
8:15pm: the Emotron
9:15pm: Load gear back into bus.
9:20pm: Start looking for oil
11:45pm: Actually score some oil, after making several stops and destroying a roof rack in the process
1:15am: Shower
2:30am: Sleep on a couch about 6 inches too short
October 23rd – Jacksonville, FL
The King of the South, Big Dunn, is a majestic creature. His band sounds like what Latterman would have sounded like if they decided to not use those pesky guitars and basses and simply settled for keyboards. I actually don’t know why I would use the word pesky in that situation…two dudes playing posi-punk on keyboards is a much more daunting task than on guitars.
October 24th – Fern Park, FL
I speant this entire off day at my computer, telling myself I need to write more and wishing I could read Chuck Klostermans new book. All day I named the first book I want to write several times, never really settling on anything (Stay Negative: Essays, Stories and Memories from a Bitter Asshole is the best I can come up with). I have been awake for 15 hours and these are the only words I muster before going to sleep and inevitably have Matt Mose snuggle a little to closely to me before I wake back up
At what point does a band stop being from Philadelphia and start hailing from Atlanta?
October 20th – Greenville, SC
Club Escape either once was, or might currently still be a strip club. There are cages for GoGo dancers on either side of the stage and no less than three stripper poles. This is what my life has come to.
October 21st – Athens, GA
We nickel and dimmed our way into about 30 gallons of decent grease. Being able to travel for free certainly has its disadvantages that no one really considers…when you fill up your car from QuickTrip, their isn’t just a huge bucket of gasoline that you have to suck out, filter, and put in your tank all the while getting it all over yourself, your clothes and every last possession you own. On top of that, the band Music Hates You just made me feel like the biggest poser ever. Some gnarly dudes getting some brutal sounds out of some bullshit amps. Its like in all those kids sports movies where the shitty underdog team takes on the real polished team, and even though they might not always win, at least the underdog put on a hell of a fight. That’s kind of how I feel about their amps versus my amps, and I am incredibly sad that I have put this much thought into a metaphor involving goddamn amplifiers.
October 22: - Charleston, SC
4:00am: Arrive in Atlanta. Pack, process oil.
4:45am: Arrive at Ethel St. Kiss girlfriend, cuddle, set alarm to wake up at 8:50, plan to hit the road at 10:30
5:15am: Sleep
9:35am: Awake. Drink soda, drive to Smyrna, load bags in IZ, awaken travelers.
11:30am: Leave to pick up Claxon and Kyle
12:00ish: Pick up Kyle and Claxton, head towards Charleston
6:50pm: Arrive in Charleston. Find Upperdeck Tavern, which is down a narrow hallway and up a large, narrow flight of stairs.
7:15pm: Sigh profoundly. Start loading in gear, fully knowing that within an hour it all has to come back out
7:45pm: Mose Giganticus
8:15pm: the Emotron
9:15pm: Load gear back into bus.
9:20pm: Start looking for oil
11:45pm: Actually score some oil, after making several stops and destroying a roof rack in the process
1:15am: Shower
2:30am: Sleep on a couch about 6 inches too short
October 23rd – Jacksonville, FL
The King of the South, Big Dunn, is a majestic creature. His band sounds like what Latterman would have sounded like if they decided to not use those pesky guitars and basses and simply settled for keyboards. I actually don’t know why I would use the word pesky in that situation…two dudes playing posi-punk on keyboards is a much more daunting task than on guitars.
October 24th – Fern Park, FL
I speant this entire off day at my computer, telling myself I need to write more and wishing I could read Chuck Klostermans new book. All day I named the first book I want to write several times, never really settling on anything (Stay Negative: Essays, Stories and Memories from a Bitter Asshole is the best I can come up with). I have been awake for 15 hours and these are the only words I muster before going to sleep and inevitably have Matt Mose snuggle a little to closely to me before I wake back up
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Happiness isn't writing on your phone, that's for sure.
Sometimes I wonder if their is no such thing as happiness. Maybe happiness is something that exists for most people in the world, but as I get closer and closer to being "old," I'm starting to think that the only feelings I am able to feel are simply raw passions. I understand hurt, because I know how it feels to be hurt...all I have to do is think about one simple thing and I instantly understand hurt. I know sadness too, because when I think about sad things, I instantly feel sad. When I think about things that would normally constitute as something that should make me feel happy...I feel nothing.
Happiness is a short term emotion, it's something you strive for and work to maintain. If someone were to give me $100 I would not feel happy about it; The instant emotion that comes from positive aspects of life isn't happiness - they are simply joy or excitement. Happiness is a condition more than emotion, it's more like a state of being. When I was a kid and my parents got me every last gift I wanted, I wasn't happy, I was joyfull and full of Christmas cheer, but these things didn't make me happy. The older I get the more I start to think that happiness isn't something you can feel at all, it's more just inflated contentness.
My problem is that if I can't define something, I can't believe in it. The reason I wonder if happiness is real is the same reason I don't believe in God, Satan, or the 2009 Atlanta Falcons, and that is all because I have no proof that any of these things are real (and in the case of the Atlanta Falcons, I have no proof their Defensive Line exists, and, after all, offense wins games, but defence wins titles). I understand love, and I know the feeling I get when I think about the girl laying next to me is love, and I enjoy LITERALLY every secon we spend together, I'm not sure if having this in my life is happiness. Listen, I am not saying that I'm not happy, I am saying that I don't think happiness, the emotional idea of being happy for a long amount of time even exists at all.
I think I provoke myself into feeling upset about things simply because it's a raw, visceral emotional experience. I like to stay upset about things because then I am actually feeling something, and can usually quantify that experience (usually by how hard I punch my steering wheel or how many Park songs I may be listening to). But happiness just feels like nothing. Happiness doesn't make me feel good, but it doesn't bring me down; it doesn't give me hope but it doesn't make me want to strangle myself with my belt either. Happiness is just there and it's existence in my life is often pretty questionable.
Just like the 2009 Atlanta Falcons
Happiness is a short term emotion, it's something you strive for and work to maintain. If someone were to give me $100 I would not feel happy about it; The instant emotion that comes from positive aspects of life isn't happiness - they are simply joy or excitement. Happiness is a condition more than emotion, it's more like a state of being. When I was a kid and my parents got me every last gift I wanted, I wasn't happy, I was joyfull and full of Christmas cheer, but these things didn't make me happy. The older I get the more I start to think that happiness isn't something you can feel at all, it's more just inflated contentness.
My problem is that if I can't define something, I can't believe in it. The reason I wonder if happiness is real is the same reason I don't believe in God, Satan, or the 2009 Atlanta Falcons, and that is all because I have no proof that any of these things are real (and in the case of the Atlanta Falcons, I have no proof their Defensive Line exists, and, after all, offense wins games, but defence wins titles). I understand love, and I know the feeling I get when I think about the girl laying next to me is love, and I enjoy LITERALLY every secon we spend together, I'm not sure if having this in my life is happiness. Listen, I am not saying that I'm not happy, I am saying that I don't think happiness, the emotional idea of being happy for a long amount of time even exists at all.
I think I provoke myself into feeling upset about things simply because it's a raw, visceral emotional experience. I like to stay upset about things because then I am actually feeling something, and can usually quantify that experience (usually by how hard I punch my steering wheel or how many Park songs I may be listening to). But happiness just feels like nothing. Happiness doesn't make me feel good, but it doesn't bring me down; it doesn't give me hope but it doesn't make me want to strangle myself with my belt either. Happiness is just there and it's existence in my life is often pretty questionable.
Just like the 2009 Atlanta Falcons
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