I stole this from a blog by a woman named TseYui, but I am not sure where she stole it from.

I have a lot to read tonight, but need to get these things out before they fade from memory. I can already feel them flitting out of my mind through my ear canals.

I’ll start with today and work backwards:

Monday

I woke up early to meet my group for magazine management class. We are creating a childrens magazine prototype with a focus on education and nurturing bonds in family.

Next was Editorial and Op-Ed class with a guest speaker. He has a large nose, deep voice and receding hair line. He is extremely intelligent and has been successful in journalism as a publisher and editorial writer.

I remember him interning in my editing class. He taught some classes on basic math for the stereotypically numerically challenged journalism students.

I then went to Wayward Council and scrounged up enough change for some CDs. I brought in a Painted Black CD that was in randomly in a Paul Beribeau CD case that I had purchased last time. I didn’t realize Paul Beribeau was sitting right there when I announced this fact. He joked about it being a bonus disc. It was weird. It’s really cool that he is in Gainesville now. I also dug in the free bin for some various patches, a Stress Face sticker, an outdated Vote 2004 poster and a flathead screwdriver with a wooden handle. A good hunt.

Now that I think about it, my bike is still in front of Wayward.

I’ve been reading a lot for a busy day tomorrow. “The Algerine Captive” and “When Species Meet” if you must know.

Sunday

A rough day after I broke up with my girlfriend for the second time. My bandmates kidnapped me and we went and ate at Saigon Legend. We roamed around town for the day. I went home and they went to a show.

Saturday

I can’t quite recall the day, but it was mostly spent hanging out and watching my bassist and his roommate play Street Fighter 4 and intermittently playing our guitars. Making Eyes then had a fun, intimate show at The Kickstand with For He Who Hung The Moon, Little High Little Low, The LefT its and The Koda Kit.

Afterward, we got word of a punk folk show at Hell’s Kitchen (a diner open really late and praised highly in a Fest brochure). We went and I met a member of Mythological Horses. He handed us a flyer without knowing that we were there to see him. He had a lot of stories to tell. He’d been on tour for well over six years and told me about the random connections he’d made on the way. The flier that he had handed me earlier was drawn up by the Ren and Stimpy artist. I looked at it closer and was surprised by its signature style, bad-ass unicorns with eyes straight from my childhood cartoon. He also had been touring with Kimya Dawson and roomed with a Voodoo Glow Skulls saxophonist. He was extremely nice and gave my tambourine player a cardigan since she was cold.

He then played a small show in the food storage room of the restaurant. The words were clever and catchy. He totally blew me away. It was anti-folk at its roots. His girlfriend, under the name Saucy Yoda (a silly hip-hop moniker), performed next, but I didn’t stick as it was late and my tambourine player wanted to go home.I meant to see her at the Kickstand show Sunday night, but we all know I didn’t make it out to that.

That night my tambourine player and I had a falling out. She ended up going to a friends’ and I layered up and biked three or four miles home.

Monday through Friday (16th- 20th)

Lots of school. Somewhere in there student government election campaigning started and I was bombarded with pamphlets and people following me as I walked. On Thursday me and my tambourine player celebrated a “hand-iversary” (the months we’d been together could be counted on a hand) with fancy cheeses (we picked terrible ones), wine and a dirty movie. Afterward we spent some time at the Atlantic to hang out with friends.

Friday’s major event was a free show at the Reitz Union. Band Marino and Wait Wait played. A band that supposedly sounds like they ripped off The Beach Boys played, but we left before their set. It was a fine time and I saw many people that I know. I ate free popcorn and chugged free soda.

Valentines Day Weekend and before

Valentines day was the first falling out between me and my tambourine player. The day before Valentines day was a Friday the 13th house show with Making Eyes, Dirty Fist, Toothache, some other girl, Little High Little Low and Dante Campanero. Thursday was a sweet show for the V-Day Fest (V standing for V.A.G.I.N.A., which in turn stands for Violence Against Girls is not Alright) with Madeline, Ghost Mice, Chelsea Carnes and Cassette.

Somewhere around the 10th or 11th

I rented a Uhaul and managed to incur only about $25 moving across town to my old house. The stuff is still stacked everywhere and is quite chaotic.

]]> http://shawp.wordpress.com/2009/02/09/and-i-write-for-all-the-internet-to-read/ Mon, 09 Feb 2009 08:32:29 +0000 shawp http://shawp.wordpress.com/2009/02/09/and-i-write-for-all-the-internet-to-read/

A writer for the Huffington Post owns this dog.

The following is very emo. I deserve any of the anonymous rude comments that these kind of posts tend to attract:

So, I don’t know if I’m falling out of love and projecting those feeling on her or whether she really is starting to hate me. I would like to believe it is mutual, for conscience’s sake. Beneath every sentence and action is constant tension waiting to surface. It’s aggravating. We are aggravating.

Continuing with the sef-centeredness, but on a much happier note: tonight’s show.

I don’t think my band did amazing, but we were surrounded by so many epic musicians.

Kathy Sohar was first and despite it being extremely early, the turnout was great. I liked her song called “The Devil Gives Good Head.” It was clever and catchy.

Lars Din played next, backed by a old trumpet guy who would go into spurts of maniacal laughter, and a curly hared fellow who played hand drums.

I did not realize until the show that I had seen Lars before at Tim and Terry’s with Dirty Fist.

Tonight he played all depressing songs. He said that ‘s how he has been feeling as of late. I thought the performance was great. Lance is a charming guy with his early graying hair, sad eyes and obscure lyrics.

Next was Waylon Thorton and the Heavy Hands. The married duo erupted with energetic, hard-hitting tunes. Meg hits her drums with such an unexpected ferocious attitude . It goes perfectly with Waylon’s wail and crunching guitar.

I had Facebook messaged Waylon the other night about how much I liked his past projects and how I looked forward to playing with him. He’s a really nice guy. He even jokingly dedicated a song to me during the show. It’s always great when the people behind your favorite songs happen to be cool, like Sean and Ben in Andrew Jackson Jihad. Waylon and Meg also played the Cara Del Gato favorite, “Fruit Bat.” As I creature I wish to reincarnate into, the song is close to my heart.

Anyways, I got to talk to Waylon for a bit and that made my night. My band member got his number and there is now vague plans to go to Meg and Waylon’s farm outside of town and ride their pony and maybe record some music. They also have a tepee, I hear.

After them it was time for Making Eyes. I joked that we were sandwiched between such great bands and were unworthy. We were like rotten lunch-meat between gourmet slices of bread, or something to that nature.

A few things that went wrong:

During sound check it was discovered that my pickup was broken. Jen from 1982 lent me her acoustic guitar. I ended up breaking a string after a few songs. Waylon then handed me another guitar, a beautiful hollow body. My hands were not liking the switch-ups, but I got through fairly unscathed. Not that I didn’t mess up everything, but I rolled with the punches. Mostly, I was upset that my voice was not working, a result of just getting over a cold. I resorted to barking like a dog, although a friend says that this is not what I sounded like. I had trouble hearing myself. My girlfriend was even worse off though as far as scratchy voices go. She caught my cold and was still sick.

In the end, I had a blast — no matter how much I complain in these posts. I love playing my songs and hope I can do this for the rest of my damn life.

Gainesville Liberation Orchestra was next. I love the way in which the three singers meld together. They each have such distinctive voices. Jen is the female punk voice in the band a la Discount. Sterlo has more of the pop punk voice reminiscent of Blink-182. Jon owns the raspy punk voice that reminds me of Hot Water Music. Combined with the fiddle and the hilariously misplaced, badly timed elderly tambourine player, they are a hell of a band.

Last was Three Legged Dawg. Honestly, I heard their MySpace and was not too impressed. I obviously should have given them a harder listen.

My singer wanted to leave before they started, but I convinced her to stay for a few songs out of politeness. We ended up staying for the whole set. Their take on alt-country is fun and refreshing. Krissy Mae is one of the best drummers I have seen in Gainesville. She is charismatic and musically, knows just what fills to put in and what beats to hammer out. Her voice adds so much to the band. I think what is fundamentally wrong with the tracks on their MySpace is that the recordings put the guitar in the forefront, when it should obviously be her drumming. Their self proclaimed genres of country, garage and crunk on the MySpace page says it best.

I bought a pear baked good at the show for $2. It was delicious. By the way, the show was a baked good sale benefit for a local radio station, WGOT 94.7. A station I personally enjoy on the weekends for their crazy variety and true alternative tastes. They are run through the Civic Media Center.

That was my night and now it is late, so I better go. I wonder where my girlfriend is at this hour?

She's got my back.

Had the worse show ever with Making Eyes the other week at Orange and Brew.

It started before the show. Got in a spat with the landlord over being able to play music in the house. I think he has something against us. We are an acoustic band and never play past 9 pm. He said that we could not play music inside anymore, but that our roommates could continue smoking inside because “smoking doesn’t make noise.”

I was all in a huff and forgot much of the equipment, including my own damn guitar. Eventually got the guitar, but had no capo or means to amplify the guitar. My string broke mid-song and I had no backup. The set was cut short after attempting a few songs on the maimed instrument. It is strange to play a guitar with a missing string. It is like using a prosthetic arm to type. My finger kept looking for something and pressing down on the wrong string.

I found a new place to live though. A place with a garage to play in.

Before the Orange and Brew show was a show with Iconicons at Wayward Council. It was mediocre.

My girlfriend has a rabbit now. It’s name is Kill Kill Murder Kill. It is ferocious I swear. I give it walks with a miniature harness.

My classes are going quite slowly. I need to start speaking out in some of them to get noticed and get good grades.

I have been sick all week. Yesterday was the first day that I felt better since last Wednesday.

I am going to New York for spring break. I found out that I fly fee again through my mother’s airline benefits.

I think that is most of the news for now.

Enjoy:

This weekend seems to be full of triumphs and disappointments.

The drama that ensues can probably be skipped, but if you are into reading about my life for some god forsaken reason, here it is. If you don’t want to filter through this nonsense, at the least skip to the end of my story where Andrew Jackson Jihad’s lead singer hugs me.

I promised myself to playing two shows tonight. First, a show with Iconicons — although I was reluctant and refused at first. Personally, I was set on staying home and doing schoolwork, as lame as that sounds. After much goading, I realized how much it meant to my bandmates, I said I would do it — on the condition that they set up everything so that all I had to do was leave my school work and play.

Now go back in time with me a little bit. I am sorry to jump around in this story, but earlier (about a month ago) my other band, Making Eyes got a tip that Spoonboy might play a house show at my girlfriend’s house (aka the little blue crack den, inspiration for a song and the place that serves as the band’s head quarters). I was very excited at the prospect of playing a show with him. I practically worship Spoonboy after discovering him only a few months ago. “Stab Your Dad” is so poignant and catchy and clever. But enough with this ridiculous exercise in falling and slobbering over myself.

Around 6 pm Saturday, we found out that he was playing for sure. This conflicted with the Iconicons show, but I thought I could make it work. A little later Andrew Jackson Jihad was confirmed to play as well. This was too much and I told Iconicons that I could not do the show. This was not what they wanted to hear. A universal “that’s fucked up” was texted to me. They were also mad that they had already set up equipment for nothing. I again relented (because I am a sucker) and told them that I would try my best to do both shows.

I watched Matty Pop Chart, Madeline, Dave Dondero, Paul Baribeau and Ghost Mice perform the Plan-It-X day show and then went to my friend’s condo to finish school papers for the rest of the night. But I digress, because I must at least write a little something about my experience listening to these bands.

Paul Baribeau blew my mind. He was dark, funny, uplifting and so many more adjectives that I cannot seem to connect in my brain synapses. I feel like I am just bashing away without any regard on this keyboard. Anyways, his song “Christmas Lights” may very well be one of my favorite songs of all time. I recognized many of his other songs from my two female bandmates constantly blaring them in the car, but it was this performance that clenched him as an amazing artist in my mind.

Ghost Mice was a lot of fun. People really got into it and I felt so legit and punk knowing the lyrics to the songs (I am not legit or punk). Hannah is a perfect balance to Chris. She is pure and genuine and although Chris is nice as well, he can come off as a little abrasive.

I feel funny recognizing Chris Clavin on the streets of Gainesville. I bet he would feel funny knowing that I felt funny. But this is getting into some excruciatingly stupid “well he feels funny that I feel funny that he feels funny” cycle that is based no where in reality. I wonder if he will someday read this (maybe if he is bored and feeling important and Googles his name or something). Speaking of people reading my blog, I found out that Chris Miller of Electronic Sub South had read my blog. He told me at the house show tonight. I will get to that later, though.

Madeline is beautiful and her voice is transcendental. She was smaller than I expected. I swear she stared at me for like an entire song, but I’m pretty certain she was staring past me since I happened to be sitting in her line of vision. We talked to her after the set. And by “we” I mean my girlfriend and by “talk” I mean a simple “you’re amazing.”

So, back to Iconicons; we were supposed to play first at the tree house at 2:30 am (which was actually 1:30 am because of day lights savings). I told them that I would be there and was — right on the dot. Unfortunately, another band was allowed to play first, not because it was anyone’s fault, but because the whole thing was complete chaos.

That first band was really talented, I must admit, and I will have to ask somebody again what their band name is. I believe they were from Louisiana. During their set I got wind that Spoonboy had already started playing at the other house show and so I fled back, texting my band mates that I was leaving.

Oh God. This story is going to have to be finished later. I am so tired. It is now 5:42 am, probably 6:42 am accounting for daylights savings, and depending on whether my computer accounted for it or not. So, this is to be continued tomorrow.

From where I left off:

It has been almost 24 hours since I ended this post, but for the reader, probably only mere seconds. Just enough time for the eyes to glance down a couple lines. If you want the full effect of this written post, then I suggest you take a break for about a day and continue reading from this point tomorrow. If you are not that dedicated, then read on:

I caught Spoonboy in the middle of his set. I have no clue whether he played my favorite song “Stab Your Dad” before I got there, and frankly, I would rather not know least I be really disappointed. I found my girlfriend on a chair shining a light on him as he played. She had found a nice digital camera on the ground and was taking pictures with it. There was a tremendous turnout and the backyard was filled with people. There were at least a hundred for both him and Andrew Jackson Jihad.

After the set, the crowd scattered and I did not see Spoonboy for the rest of the night. I suppose he was tired.

I did find a girl looking for a camera, though. I went to my girlfriend and persuaded her to do the right thing. My girlfriend has had many things stolen including a digital camera. Most notably and recently, her Apple notebook was snatched. She sympathized, but was sad to see a working camera leave her hands.

Andrew Jackson Jihad played next. They were nice enough to perform despite being exhausted and having just played a real show. The singer, Sean, was losing his voice and I could tell that they had been busy this weekend. The entire front lawn was filled with people whispering and cooing along (as not to overpower Sean’s frayed voice and Ben’s quiet upright bass).

The two band members are among the nicest people I have ever met. It is a grand thing since it would have broke my heart to find out that they were assholes.

Their friend, Porches, played next and I listened to his gravely voice with a small crowd in the living room.

The lights had been illegally turned on at some point that night, yet he asked for them to be turned off and we lit candles.

During his set there was a small spat between a former roommate of the house (who was claiming ownership of the home all night) and Making Eyes concerning who would play next. I was still in the mindset that I could possibly make it back to play with Iconicons and so I tried to reason with him. It was getting later than late and people were tired and grumpy.

Somewhere in there, I recognized Andrew from Action Research and Chris from Electronic SubSouth. They said some quirky things and were overall really nice. I recall Chris asking me to turn up the temperature of the earth since I had no control over the thermostat. They thanked me for the article I wrote about Action Research. I meant to go to their Halloween show, but never made it and admitted this to them. Supposedly there was a haunted maze to go through in order to get to the performances.

Making Eyes ended up going next and the former roommate was also content as he got to play for Sean in the backyard (which is all he really wanted). Our crowd was very small and mostly composed of dedicated friends and people who were too lazy to leave the front yard. Despite the frustrations of the night and the eventual broken guitar string mid-performance; I had a blast. Call it the euphoria from seeing such great music earlier.

My bandmates left to go to the tree house and I hung out with a guy from New York and a Gainesvillian that I vaguely know. We decided to walk to the tree house as well.

It turns out Andrew Jackson Jihad and the gang were still around as I started to leave. I thanked them for playing at the house in the most awkward manner possible. Sean asked me if I lived at the house. I told him that my girlfriend lived there and described her to him as the short one who was kind of loud. He called her feisty and adorable and then told me that she was a keeper. He then hugged me as I left.

I don’t care how corny it is or how small it is to other people, but that was amazing.

I saw them at the show I was volunteering at the next night and tried my hardest to act natural. That probably made me seem less natural. I mostly let my girlfriend blab to them and I just stared.

Back at the treehouse I found the guy who goes by Homemade Handgrenande. He was very thankful for letting the house use my PA. It turns out that Tiltwheel played. He was stoked to have played the same show as them. I felt bad that I let my band down as I am sure that they would have been thrilled to play with Tiltwheel. I talked to them later and it has since smoothed over. Homemade Handgrenade, his friend and I packed up the drums and PA and dropped them off at the little blue crackden.

I ended up at Rachel’s for a bit with my girlfriend and that is where I typed up the first half of this post. As of now, I am sitting alone on my bed procrastinating a paper (but not to a frightening degree yet).

Volunteering at the Kickstand went alright and I saw some decent bands. Japanther was not as good as I expected them to be, but the crowd was pleased. The people went so crazy that the show had to be cut short.

More activites went on. I heard about dueling wizards and fireworks, but my girlfriend and I decided to sleep through it.

I think we got in a small fight or something this evening. Anyways, I ended up here, which is fine. Having running water is definitely a plus. I need to go to bed early anyways and being away from the crusties that have infested her house helps in this endeavor.

The wandering, showerless souls started appearing around Wednesday and multiplied throughout the Fest weekend. They have names like Stoney and Dirt. One of them always wants me to rub his tummy. They are overall nice and interesting people with lots of stories to tell. You can smell their dust and sweat from about fifteen yards away as you walk to the house. I am especially fond of the group because they have dogs.

Though, the Fest crusties have been getting on my nerves as time wears on. Many continue to ask me for change, calling me too pretty to not have money. I can handle it on the streets, but not in the front yard and hallways of the house. When first arriving, they were relatively clean and tidy (save for appearances), but that has gone out the window as the group bulked up. There is no running water and so the backyard has taken on the smell of a portable toilet.

A couch appeared in the front yard, which I am sure will be left with the trash and beer cans.

But I am bitter.

Well, good night. If you made it through this post, consider yourself a marathon runner of blog reading.

Kiiks played first and had a very attentive and warm crowd. His music is quiet at times, but then can become quite intense — some overall great dynamics. He uses a half strumming, half picking technique on a classical style guitar. His voice is somewhere between the obvious comparison of Bob Dylan and the slightly less obvious comparison of the Andrew Jackson Jihad.

For He Who Hung The Moon played next. His cover of “99 Problems” by Jay-Z naturally riled up the party crowd. This was his first time playing a show on his newly acquired baritone ukulele. Everyone was quiet and mesmerized for the set and I think he made a a lot of fans. His voice is like Björk, that weird guy with eye liner that sang folk songs and was popular a few years ago (Devendra Banhart ) and a pretty sounding goat. In other words, it is totally unique. His songs are stories that seem to be straight out of Charles Dickinson literature.

Dante Compañero got the crowd just as the drinks started to really flow through their veins. As usual “Two Packs a Day” was very popular. His deep voice (not good in the traditional sense, but reminiscent of Mark from Blink 182) works perfectly for the songs, which are almost always about the simple pleasures of drinking beer, smoking too many cigarettes and hanging out with friends.

Track Hubs and the Fixie Dicks, the stage name for Zack, followed Dante. The two of them have a split together titled “Let’s Wear Our Party Shorts on the Front Porch.” He had a riling chorus of “put on your short shorts” with at least three partiers stripping down to their skivvies. People were enjoying themselves, jumping around and slapping the low ceilings.

My own band, Making Eyes, finally got to play around twenty minutes ’til 2. The crowd had thinned out quite a bit by then. Moods started to clash and many people were too drunk to really listen. Good friends huddled around and sang along to our choruses and for that I am thankful. One of the members was getting perturbed and yelling at the crowd for being disruptive and I was a little embarrassed of her abuse toward them. I wanted to just have fun, but I could tell that all of my bandmates were a little disappointed and I probably let it affect me too much. I had trouble myself, as I am not usually the loudest, making it hard to be heard above the blare of the party.

In retrospect, we should have gone earlier when the crowd was calm. It is hard to follow a rousing chorus as repeatable, fun and loud as “party, party, party” and then play our kind of music at 2 am when everyone is either tired or drunk. We skipped to some of our more fun songs and then cut the set short and thanked everyone for coming out. Maybe, our own part of the show did not go well, but the party as a whole went tremendously.

I would estimate 50 plus people at the benefit show. The atmosphere was nice with scattered lit candles, flashlights pointing at cheap cardboard signs and even a donations bucket that glowed in the dark. Friends and strangers definitely showed their love and support and all together my girlfriend made about $150 toward her utilities bill.

The keg was sucked dry by the end of the night.

I am terribly sick. I am probably going to call it a night after these next few sentences.

That will be a sad endeavor though, for this is the first night I have spent without my girlfriend in a long time.

Granted, we have only been together a month, so “a long time” is relative.

Granted, one of the only reasons I am not over there is because I am deathly ill and her house is less than conducive to my recovery.

She has recently lost power, water and probably her roommates. The place is dark, molding and downright depressing.

It stresses me out. I shouldn’t stress out, but it’s hard when you care for the people in those situations. I wish I could make it better — maybe with the magic wand trick. Perhaps, some shitty Harry Potter spell.

She has so much other shit going down right now as well. Sometimes I wonder if I brought all this upon her, but I know it’s irrational. All of these things had been accumulating. It was just strange timing.

I have told people lately that it feels like a dozen Dr. Scholl’s are flopping around in my head and slapping the back of my eyes. I took some Mucinex today and it made me feel like I had no throat or chest, yet those parts still ached — an invisible, phantom ache. My nasal passages are clogged and it feels like my head has ballooned twice its normal size. My muscles feel like I just ran a marathon, although all I have done today is stay and bed and mosey about town a bit.

The show was last night. It was the first real show for both of my bands. I was really sick then too, but I tried to hide it. My shitty punk band, Iconicons, did fine for a first performance. Making Eyes (my other band) showcased a new song where each member sings a verse and chorus. The bands made $12 total.

Yeah, we go for the big bucks.

Tomorrow night Making Eyes has a show at the Wayward Council. We practiced for a bit today and I am excited about three new songs that will be showcased. The songs are “Impostor Song”, “The Cheating Song” and “Little Blue Crack Den.”

“Impostor Song” gets its name because it was originally called “Three Chords, One Truth.” The band unanimously decided to save that title for another song with three chords (and hopefully one truth). Thus, the song is an impostor.

“The Cheating Song”  was nicknamed “The Sad Song” and deals with thoughts and actions I have dealt with over the past couple of weeks. It is one of my favorite Making Eyes songs, despite how depressing and sensitive the subject matter is. My bassist wrote a killer bass line to it today.

“Little Blue Crack Den” is an ode to the my girlfriend’s house, a beautiful rundown place that I have been spending most of my time at.

The other night, I compiled all the songs that I have written since starting a shitty punk band in December. The final count was around 40 songs, give or take.

I want to have hundreds. I guess I’ll have to jump start the engine, bunker down and get to making them. It is just a matter of taking the countless lyrics that I have scribbled down and matching them with chords.

“Match maker, match maker, make me a match.”

God, this movie is disgusting.

I am listening to “Stay High” by Three 6 Mafia. The party beat is quite the opposite of what I am feeling. It was a counteractive maneuver in response to the depression induced by Josh T. Pearson’s cover of “I’m so Lonesome I Could Cry.”

I went to a “Shortbus” viewing party the other night.

Clothing was optional and some people took full advantage. The Facebook invitation warned me that clothing might be scarce, but I was still jolted by the handful of naked people I walked in on. Unfortunately, it was mostly men who chose to shed their clothing (which I think is a disservice to the general vibe of the room). The host, a hairy-legged lesbian and a girl who looked like an Aphrodite painting did balance out the room a bit. I am sorry to peg the one girl as merely “a hairy-legged lesbian” because I like her very much. It just makes it so much easier to illustrate a story if I give peripheral nicknames.

The situation made me wonder what was really natural: “Would that guy be standing like that if he had pants on? Would that girl be sitting like that if she was clothed?”

It made for awkward moments when witnessing people do simple tasks ( i.e. turning on a DVD player or crawling across a floor to see a picture on someone’s phone).

What will I be thinking when I meet these people later? Is it weird that I know their birthmarks, etc. etc. etc.?

Yes, I am purposefully over thinking things. It makes the whole night much more hilarious.

And the movie was good.

In comparison, tonight kind of sucked, but I did get to practice with my bassist from Making Eyes. We have an unofficial pact to practice every day this week until the show on Friday.

My conscience is not clear.

It’s muddy like a Delta.

I am seemingly going deeper in my shell. I am just giving people what they expect and want. I am a very giving person.

There is no turning back now.

I am eating at Subway more than I used to. Sometimes, I get a good deal there.

There was a failed attempt to watch a Wayward Council show with the Jammy Dodgers.

There was an almost-fight tonight. A knife was pulled and by the end, almost nobody knew what they were fighting about — just that someone had insulted a friend of a friend of a friend or something like that. The rumors spread like wild fire. The girl who pulled out the knife has a baby. There was a baby at the party, but it was not her baby. I hear knife girl’s baby lives with her baby’s daddy’s parents.

I practiced with multiple band members today, including Making Eyes and the Toy Tambourine’s new bassist. I tried to play “Rock N’ Roll Racing” with my drummer from Iconicons. It was a pathetic attempt.

I think I need to give up on my music blog. It was created out of a false notion — something involving me and the enjoyment of journalism.

The quirky warehouse mainly functions as a charitable means for bike repair and bike repair education, but also houses a thrift shop and stage area, which help raise funds for The Kickstand’s main project. The place was started late last year by Ani Previc.

As a venue, The Kickstand has a great deal of charm. The lack of air conditioning and disheveled pieces of bicycles add to the charm. On the walls hang local artwork for sale. Painted bicycles and Christmas lights also decorate the red interior. The people are nice and everything is in the name of DIY bike repair. The only downside is its distance from campus.

It is a gigantic building, but can be difficult to find. The most helpful directions come from Glypher, creator of Gainesvillebands.com, who backs The Kickstand as a committee member. He has a picture of the area on his news forum.

The Alligator has done two pieces on The Kickstand. The first is a multimedia article that has pictures of the interior under construction and is narrated by Vyki Englert. In the piece, Chelsea Carnes is quoted as stressing the importance of the venue aspect of The Kickstand.

The other Alligator article can be read by clicking here.

Back in May, my own band opened for a show at the Kickstand. It was a great time. My girlfriend came down from Tallahassee to witness. My newspaper editor and her friends also came. A modest slew of others too (including a roommate). The atmosphere was relaxed (despite my own anxiety before any live performance) and we were told to start whenever we felt comfortable.

Jon Crocker played after us. His set was very intimate, full of personal anecdotes and jokes that interrupted his songs. Everyone sat around him in a style reminiscent of elementary story time. A dog hopped around the crowd and interrupted many musical moments.

The seemingly awkward highschool band, Max’s Birthday played after Crocker. Their piano driven indie music was amusing. Here is a picture of what the stage looked like with them on it.

The last band to play was the Muse/Radiohead-esque Dead Songwriters. A very talented group of musicians who originated from Ocala.

The night was blisteringy hot. The night was authentic.

A list of upcoming Kickstand shows can be found here. I strongly urge you to support the shows.

I earnestly hope the place becomes big — it deserves to. The many volunteers backing the project have big hearts and great ambitions for the place.

The Kickstand has both a MySpace and a website. Check them out and go to their shows. Learn how to get your bike fixed if necissary. If you do not have a bike, let them help you build one.

Speaking of bands — my own band is reunited! There is only two of us, so I guess reuniting is not such a big deal. Not like getting a 5,000 piece ska band together. Imagine the production in that.

I have been playing my cheap Casio keyboard a lot lately. I do not know if anything is coming out of it. The instrument has always felt foreign under my fingers. My video game, drummer roommate came into my room last night and hammered on the keys along to pre-recorded children’s songs until odd hours of the morning.

I watched “28 weeks Later” today. I did a quick review here. Maybe I will keep doing reviews for other movies I happen to watch. Who knows.

I played soccer the other day, but was still not fully recovered from my earlier sickness. It was nauseating.

Pretty much, I am using this post to track what I do with my lazy summer days. Sorry, if it gets too tedious. My roommate told me he used to try to spruce up his LiveJournal with links and relevant topics.

Here is a link: Snare and a Chair’s MySpace

And a relevant topic: There is a crazy amount of bands in Gainesville.

I recently found my other roommate’s Livejournal and old blog. It was the highlight of my internet stalking career. It made me laugh, it made me cry — I threw a chair out a window and punched a guy sitting next to me in a bar — a catharsis of sorts.

Is a journalist supposed to have a personal blog?

And the saloon doors swing shut.

My bandmate looked pretty and she sang well. We both had our flubs, though. Many flubs: Throwing down sticks, missing guitar pedals, missing notes, missing chords, forgetting lyrics, awkwardly making stage talk, having a guitar going out of tune, having me going out of tune, using a new strap that made me feel like Greenday with how low my guitar was, being all fumbly, being all mumbly, sweating too much, etc. etc. etc.

And I loved it all.

I saw so much potential through the terrible set. I wonder if anyone else can see it?

It’ll take a bit though.

Until then.

I quit my job.

Hopefully getting published will be more than a one-time thing.

I think I might add a “links page” to this blog.

God, I’m tired. My girlfriend took care of me though. Bought me a guitar strap and pick-up for the show while I was working. She was there for moral support to tell me how awesome I was, counter-acting my pessimism. She even fixed dinner for me. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Probably died of malnutrition and stress.

Thank you to all who came out and watched us be awkward and all live performance-virginy. Even if you are just a vague acquaintance of my bandmate’s, it meant the world to me.

I hope my trip to Japan works out.

I hope the supposed show at the Kickstand on Thursday works out.

I hope my grades work out.

The grades thing — I think I will have to go higher than my professor. I found out where five assignments are that he gave zeros to and he has still done nothing about it.

Incessant emails? Check. Incessant phone calls? Check.

It is time to turn on the heat.

I think a story of mine will be in the Alligator Thursday. I think I can work it out to keep getting stories in the Alligator on Thursdays.