Ayo. Todays Mathematcis is Brewski kid. This kid. Oh shit.

If you are anything like me you be thinking that these new jacks be digging up more obscure mid 90s shit than that whole blog wave.

Brew$ki different yo. He obvsiously knows BIg L’s second album was shit but he also prolly reads Terrence McKenna. Dude got that off the wall stylin’ like Kwest tha Madd Ladd.

Do the knowledge god.

Peace Uit from Steakboy.

I climbed down from the trees
And demanded a life with a narrative arc
Our names pile like dead leaves
And sons die like matchsticks break
Like days break—
Or hearts. Or dreams.
So we scuttle across the planet’s curve
The white watch face
Sometimes-allies who gravity keeps
Not one owed a thing.

I had LASIK eye surgery about a week and a half ago to correct 20+ years of near-sightedness.

Results are mind-boggling and amazing. I can actually see better now than I could with contacts or glasses.

The procedure itself wasn’t bad and only took about 10 minutes. Afterwards, when the numbing drops wear off, is a little rough but I went right to bed when I got home. Woke up 5 hours later with near perfect vision… So cool!

I highly recommend it!

I want all of Iggy’s Wardrobe!!!!!!!

keep forgetting we are daughters of the soil

that our ancestors were soliders of light

that thirst is best quenched in our hearts, then our minds, last our bodies

we keep bringing our bodies to the forefront of this fight

we we we

keep leaving ourselves behind for flesh

keep fleshing out regret

keep telling stories to ourselves over and over again

we keep believing our own lies

keep keeping friends for the sake of company, rather than enrichment

keep battering ourselves for being traumatized

we keep living out of habit, rather than choice

love, stop being like us.

Cold and steamy escapades
Lifetimes of memories in a night
Spreading ink across bar tops and napkins

Stories of women barely known
Only a poet writing foggy memories as if reality
The best of them held within the darkness of night

The hero of the story a face in the mirror
The muse, the saint, and the whore
Blending becomes a cocktail on a table

Truth becomes a separate tale
Immortality and grace as if a reflection
Sinners, saints, and unrequited love colliding

1. No Evidence
There is no evidence that heaven exists. In the Bible, heaven is a place that physically exists in the sky above Earth. It is in Genesis that we are told of the story when humans built a tower that was so tall God became concerned that they may soon reach heaven. However, humans have since put satellites in orbit around the Earth, sent a probe to the farthest reaches of our solar system and cast our eye into deep space, and there is still no evidence of heaven.

You might prefer to not read Genesis and the Bible literally. But if you take this option, you open up the Bible to an infinite number of interpretations and thereby render it useless for instruction in matters of fact and morality. Whichever way you have it, there is still no evidence that heaven exists.

2. The Problem Of Our Wicked Souls
It is claimed that heaven is paradise. But if our imperfect souls are transferred to heaven then we would experience the same vices, problems and conflict there that we experience on Earth. Even those murderers and paedophiles who have accepted Christ as their saviour will be in heaven with us.

It is possible our souls could become perfect when they are transferred to heaven so that we would be without sin and conflict. But if we would think, act and speak differently – that is, have changed personalities - in what way would we be the same people/souls we once were? If we were without sin that would mean we would no longer have free will. We would be robot souls,  which seems contrary to Christian principles.  And if we all became perfect not only would we be spiritual robots, but it would imply that we would be homogeneous, which would be strange and boring. Furthermore, as perfected we would be equals of God, which is an outcome he would not likely permit. Of course, if our souls were to become perfect it also begs the question, why not have created us perfect in the first place and save the whole charade?

3. Heaven Is Hell
The Bible teaches that those who do not accept Christ as their saviour will burn in hell for eternity. There in hell they will be subjected to unending, unimaginable misery and torture. This means that if you are transferred to heaven but your loved one is a Muslim, Hindu or atheist they will be transferred to hell.  How then could heaven be a paradise for you with this knowledge of your loved one’s fate? Wouldn’t paradise with such knowledge be a hell for you? The very prospect renders life on Earth a hell as well.

4. No Guarantee For Your Safety
Revelation 12:7 tells of a war in heaven. This means that either God has willed there to be a war in heaven or God’s will is not always done in heaven. Either way, the consequence is we are not safe from war even in this supposed paradise.

5. The Promise Of Eternal Life
God offers us paradise for eternity, but who wants to live forever anyway? And what joy would we find in a life without adversity and struggle? Whilst this childish fantasy of immortality provides consolation for death, it serves as a barrier to comprehending the reality of death and to coping with our grief in a healthy manner. Most importantly, the false promise of eternal life cheapens the one real life that we actually have; our first and last dance here on Earth.

Michael was a good friend of mine but he was a strange kid.  We hung out all the time at school.  We were in year four now and had been friends since the first grade, but I still didn’t know much about him.  Whenever I asked him about his background or his family he would just avoid the topic. But that was okay, we were kids and all we wanted to do was play Mario Kart anyway.

Most of the kids caught the bus home after school, but some would get picked up in their parents’ car.  Michael was different.  Most afternoons his dad came in a red semi-trailer.  The semi would sit there parked on the street and Michael’s dad never got out.  You couldn’t see him through the windows either. They were perfect mirrors, and all you could see in them were the street and the trees.  Why’s your dad got a truck, Michael?  Do you think he’d let us ride in the truck? Michael never seemed to give a straight answer to these questions.

Michael often came over to my house to hang out, sometimes after school or over the holidays.  But I never went to Michael’s house and he never asked me to.  Hey Michael, what’s your place like?  How bout we go over to your place?  Michael said no.  I found it really annoying.  C’mon man, I said.  We always go to my place . We should go to your place for a change.  I had to bug Michael like this for six months before he reluctantly decided we could hang out at his place after school.

It was a Friday afternoon and that day we caught the bus to Michael’s place.  Where’s your dad today, Michael?  He said he wasn’t sure.  Michael’s house wasn’t far away.  And it was a magnificent home.  A huge home.  And everything was neat and perfect.  Even the garden seemed to have come new out of a package, the hedges trimmed sharp and symmetrical.  The driveway was broad and the garage enormous.  Inside the house was just as impressive and each room was like a grand ballroom.  We stepped into the lounge room, and to my amazement, seated in a leather recliner with his head and pipe in a tiny newspaper the size of a handkerchief, was Optimus Prime.

ALTERNATIVE ENDING
Michael’s house was really a shit-hole.  And his dad was really his step dad.  The step dad wore a dirty bathrobe tied loosely about the waist.  It was loose enough that his vile chode was in unambiguous view, like a dishevelled old crow peeking from its nest.  He made us tomato sauce sandwiches for afternoon tea and when I said I wasn’t hungry he banged his fist down on the table and yelled.  I felt like I wanted to cry but held it back.  And I didn’t want to go to Michael’s house ever again.

“I had a dream about this place”

The first thing to say is that David Lynch’s movies are not to be understood literally.  They are dream-like, nightmarish and often uncomfortable figurative depictions of artifice and disconnection.  Any analysis of Mulholland Drive should be no different, however, there is a skeleton to Mulholland Drive from which Lynch’s art has been fleshed out.

The real story in Mulholland Drive begins three-quarters of the way through the movie.  It begins when the Cowboy character looks in on the corpse and says, “Hey pretty girl, time to wake up.”  The blonde is Diane Selwyn as played by Naomi Watts.  She wakes in her home disturbed by the knocking from her neighbour and former lesbian-lover who has come to collect her things, including an ashtray on the coffee table.  We also note a blue key on the coffee table.  These are time markers.

We then go back in time when the ashtray is still there but there is no key.  Diane is naked on the couch with her other lover, the brunette Camilla Rhodes, played by Laura Harring.  But Camilla doesn’t want to continue the relationship with Diane and we soon find out why in the following scenes: Camilla is an actress and she’s fallen for the director of the movie she is currently starring in, Adam Kesher played by Justin Theroux.  This is tearing Diane up.

Despite the fracture in their relationship, Camilla convinces Diane to go to a party at the director’s house on Mulholland Drive to celebrate the film she’s starring in and arranges for her to be picked up in a black car.  At the party Diane explains to the director’s mother, Coco, that Camilla once beat her to a leading role in a film, The Sylvia North Story, and that’s how they met.  It’s at this party that Camilla and the director announce their plans for marriage.  Not only that, but Diane notices obvious signs that Camilla has been intimate with another woman too, a blonde played by Melissa George.  This party is where Diane’s heart is broken, making its venue, Mulholland Drive, worthy of the film’s title.

Following the party, Diane decides to hire a contract killer to murder Camilla.  They meet at Winkie’s and the hit man tells Diane that when the job is done she’ll find a blue key in a paper bag behind the wall at the back of the restaurant.  Diane naively asks what the key opens and the hit man laughs in her face.  Of course it doesn’t open anything, it’s just a sign that the murder has been carried out. Metaphorically however, the key opens up many things.

The first three-quarters of the movie before the Cowboy says, “Hey pretty girl, time to wake up.” is a dramatisation of Diane’s dream.  Diane dreams after she has collected the blue key and before the neighbour comes round to pick up the ashtray.  Towards the end of the film you can hear knocking over one of the scenes and this is the sound of Diane’s neighbour knocking on the door intruding into her sleep, just as real sounds often intrude into our dreams.

Also just as in our dreams, the first three-quarters of Mulholland Drive are a confused representation of real people, places and events.  For example, the blonde Betty character also played by Naomi Watts is Diane’s dream version of herself; arriving in Hollywood to audition for a role in The Sylvia North Story,  full of hope for her acting career.  In the dream Diane has taken the name of the waitress at Winkies, Betty.  This is because Winkies is where she organises the hit, thereby losing her self and her identity.  Rita is a dream version of Camilla.  Together Betty and Rita have a kind of collective amnesia; just as we sometimes forget our dreams, in our dreams we sometimes forget reality.  Throughout the dream sequence the pair of them try to unravel the darkness that surrounds them.  That elusive darkness is the reality that Diane/Betty has killed Camilla/Rita.  The pair analyse clues, such as the hit-money in Rita’s bag and the blue key.  Diane’s subconscious invents a blue cube that fits the key in the dream.

In Mulholland Drive, the characters sometimes disappear suddenly.  At one point Rita/Camilla starts wearing a blonde wig and almost becomes or replaces Betty/Diane.  This too is just like in our dreams where characters disappear, change places or become one another.

The monstrous face behind the wall out the back of Winkies is the metaphorical face of the horrible thing that Diane, the dreamer, has done.  It is behind the wall where the key was left by the hit man to signify that the murder was carried out.

There is another strange scene where the director meets with some film industry bigwigs, including perhaps the producer, who spits out his espresso.  This scene is a confused representation of the real association experienced by Diane at the Mulholland Drive party when she is drinking a greasy coffee and looks up to see the producer across the room.  The spitting is also representative of Diane’s feelings of rejection.  In Diane’s dream the producer insists to the director “this is the girl”, and from there begins a conspiracy of suited men to place Camilla (this time played by Melissa George) into the lead role of a film.  This conspiracy is a confused representation of Diane’s experience in being beaten for the role in The Sylvia North Story by the real brunette Camilla and her jealousy concerning the apparent affair between the real Camilla and the character played by Melissa George.

The dream scene where the director finds his wife cheating on him with the pool guy in his own home is a confused representation of Diane’s anxiety about Camilla leaving her for the director and the story the director tells at the Mulholland Drive party about his divorce.  There is also perhaps an element of revengeful wish-thinking here on the part of Diane.  We note also that in Diane’s dream the director’s secretary has a crush on him, and this is because Diane views the director as an object of desire for other women.

Another scene in the dream sequence is the bungled crime.  The murderer having killed his victim, accidentally shoots a woman through the wall.  When he captures the woman to finish her off this is witnessed by the cleaner who he is then forced to kill.  Finally the killer sets off an alarm by shooting at the cleaner’s vacuum cleaner.  This scene is Diane’s subconscious expressing her anxieties about contracting the hit man to kill Camilla and the possibility that it could have all gone wrong.

So who is this mysterious Cowboy? He’s merely someone who walked past during a crucial moment at the Mulholland Drive party and thereby imprinted himself on Diane’s subconscious.  In Diane’s dream the Cowboy character is elaborated into a complete ranch scene and becomes part of the conspiracy to cast Camilla in the lead role.

At the Mulholland Drive party when Diane mentions The Sylvia North Story, Camilla and the director respond with lines in Spanish that perhaps are quotes from the movie.  This seems to play out in Diane’s dream with the Spanish language version of Roy Orbison’s “Crying” at the theatre.  The theatre scene also explores themes of illusion that relate to Hollywood and to life.

At the very end of the film Diane is hounded by an old couple and she backs away and shoots herself.  Diane may have met this old couple on the flight to the audition for The Sylvia North Story.  The old couple were lovely to Diane and had genuine hope for her ambitions to become a movie star.  Or alternatively, as suggested on the internet, the old couple could be the judges of the jitterbug contest that propelled Diane into her acting career. Either way, in the end this couple becomes the representation of Diane’s broken dreams, which is why we see their miniature versions emerge from the blue cube then hound her to her suicide.

Some might ask if the first three-quarters of the film is Diane’s dream, then how could it be possible at the end of the film Diane’s body seems to fall into the same position that the corpse takes within the dream itself? I don’t know the answer to this or whether there is a definitive one.  Perhaps Diane’s dream includes a premonition of her suicide; perhaps it is a metaphorical expression of Diane feeling dead herself after having Camilla killed; or perhaps it is an artistic tool used by Lynch to blur the line between dream and reality.  However, I believe it is more probable that this suicide scene is a return to the dream in its most frightening final moments (we see the monstrous face behind the wall again and we can hear the knocking on the door from the neighbour) when Diane and Camilla’s corpses become one.

Technicalities are everything
As are elegant women on bicycles
Waving cheerily as they set off
Asses in blue dresses
Over balloon-green hills
We’re all connected, technically
Entities admit of particles
Which dream-like, come and go,
Machine-like.
The girl, the bike and you —
This is the big sea
The single original organism
Water with a will.

I am officially breaking (nearly) a YEAR of silence! Ta-da!

Did you miss me? The feelings are mutual. Fear not, I come with a sonic offering to make up for my absence. I have been working on a mix with my friend, Marcus (#GoWes) inspired by “Cuffing Season“. As with any creative output, there is a certain irrational anxiety accompanied with letting go and sharing your art with the world. In an attempt to stop hoarding my process and perpetually wait for the myth of “perfection” to realize itself, I have decided to share more freely in 2013 (don’t worry, this isn’t another bullshit New Years Resolution #orisit?). Believe it or not, this blog was my very first attempt at forcing myself to publish regularly. Without the boundaries and structure of an Institution to impose the hammer of discipline, it’s all too easy to fall into a pit of stagnation and paralysis. I digress…

“Freak Love” is the end result of a music sharing process that transformed into a playlist of classic slow jams and more contemporary genre-bending synth-soul that is sure to put you in the mood. Yeah, that mood. Whether you have a boo or not, it’s two hours of tunes that will have you ready to bounce, cuddle and get your freaky on. And while I have absolutely no expertise in DJ mixing, this is my best attempt at audio editing in the recent past. Don’t expect any creative transitions or precise technical beat-matching…yet. The perks of having DJ homies is that they generously donate their time and wisdom to gaming me up on the appropriate Software. There will be more mixes to come with more tricks up our sleeve. If you enjoy what you hear, spread the love!

Bodega Vendetta is a sonic collaboration between Marcus Warmington (Brooklyn, NY) and Isa Nakazawa (San Francisco, CA). These two music enthusiasts have joined forces with the intent of curating soul soothing sounds that straddle across coasts. “Freak Love” is their debut mix designed explicitly as a soundtrack for cuffing season.

For those who don’t know what cuffing season is, here’s a hint: “During the Fall and Winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be “Cuffed” or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be cuffed.”

What are you waiting for? Press play and get cuffed…

Which leads me to my second point–
NEW SHIT ERRYWHURRR. All the tabs have been edited and filled out and treated with love and sarcasm. I’ve provided you with some information on myself, my namesake, the cast of characters you’ll most frequently run into, the movie that’s shaped my penchant for stream-of-conscious style writing; as well as (probably more importantly):

THE FACEBOOK.

Yes, that’s right, Mizz Wallace is on Facebook. Not (anonymous blog writer)’s Facebook; but, WALLACE’S. Add me, ask me things, and amuse me. I am pretty stoked on this.

Also,

FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT OF YOU THINK I’M INTERESTING.

548. INDIVIDUALS.

i was at 423 this afternoon.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

Finally;

200 points to whomever can re-title the blog. EIB is for my book. This has taken on  a life of its own!

I’m looking forward to hearing the response on this. Thanks again, readers and haters.

I’m pretty tickled at these stats…even if half y’all hate me!

Wallace out.

Front Cover

These were supposed to be really easy, quick posts. “I bought a single, here it is. It has a cool track on it I didn’t have before. It cost me 12p.” That sort of thing.

This week’s was going to be especially easy. Megadeth’s Symphony of Destruction on 7” vinyl with a B-Side I didn’t think I owned but discovered I did. Never mind, tally ho, onwards and upwards and all that good stuff. The End.

But new shit has come to light.

I bought this at a newly re-opened Bargain Books store in Shawlands, Glasgow. Very near the HMO Mission Control compound in fact! Since re-opening they have added some vinyl bins so I ventured in for a peek and came out, £1.50 lighter, with this single.

Back Cover

The main attraction of this, apart from the lovely yellow vinyl, was the live B-Side: Peace Sells taken from the Clash of the Titans show at Wembley Arena from “October 1990”. I was fairly sure I didn’t have any Clash of the Titans-related live recordings from Megadeth but, on the way home, I started to wonder if this recording might be on the band’s Warchest Box Set. Sure enough, back at HMO Mission Control, I discovered that disc 4 of Warchest is the live audio taken from the band’s show in Wembley Stadium on 16th October 1990. Bah.

I gave the single a quick listen which was very enjoyable. So enjoyable I decided to listen to that Warchest live CD in its entirety. While listening to that, I noticed the liner notes listed all the tracks on the live CD as “previously unreleased”. Surely not. I then discovered the Warchest booklet had a very handy Discography. The listing for the Symphony of Destruction UK 7” listed the B-Side as: Peace Sells (Live at Wembley Stadium, London, 10/14/90). A different night!

Yellow Vinyl

This was great news but I couldn’t avoid the nagging sensation that this tour was unlikely to have played multiple nights at Wembley. I checked Wiki’s Clash of the Titan’s tour dates… one night. 14th Oct. Checked the Wiki entry for Warchest… which explained how the Warchest CD is wrongly credited as being from the 16th Oct as the tour only played there on the 14th. Mustaine is heard to say on the disc “It’s Sunday. Not any more, it’s Black Friday.” The Sunday fell on 14th Oct. So it turns out I bought a doubler after all. I had started to get my hopes up as well…

But then my Warchest CD finally got round to Peace Sells. It seemed different but it was hard to say for sure. I decided to replay the 7” to double-check. Sure enough, the 7” bass intro rumbles on for longer than the CD version! And, in the CD version Mustaine sings “What do you mean I can’t be the President of the United States of America? It’s still ‘we, the people’ right?” but on the 7” version he changes that second line to “I mean, he looks like an asshole, right?”. Other parts of the track sound identical, however.

So, in light of this new shit, I’m going to guess that these are probably taken from the same show but that the Warchest CD version has been sneakily tightened up and overdubbed (maybe Mustaine has since decided George Bush Sr. didn’t look like an asshole after all?). I’ve still bought a doubler, but an interesting one. And one that shows that a blogger/collector’s life is never straightforward! It’s a colourful addition to the collection anyway and, looking at Discogs, it has a resale value well beyond what I paid for it, so it’s also one for the HMO Retirement Fund! Good times!

BONUS PEDANTRY: You might have spotted the single credits the Clash of the Titans show as having taken place at Wembley Arena. The CD placed it in Wembley Stadium. These are two different venues. Wiki reckons it was the Arena and that sounds more likely to me. Who researches these things?!

Proponents for religion almost always argue that if there is no god then there can be no absolute morality; that there can be no right or wrong.  They argue that without god there is nothing to determine that murder is wrong or that rape is wrong.  The inference is that because we know through our intuition and experience that these acts are wrong – morally wrong – then god must exist.

However, in his book, The Moral Landscape, Sam Harris describes how science can determine moral values.  In this description of morality there is no need to appeal to the gods for answers to moral questions.  Harris’s argument is that everything we value relates to the well-being of conscious creatures and that well-being is measurable either at the level of the brain or in the external world, such as life-expectancy, infant mortality rates, incidence of mental illness etc.[1] Invoking god only muddies this process and denies us opportunities to maximise human well-being and the well-being of our fellow creatures.

I will here address a different aspect of the argument for divine moral truth.  I propose that even if we were to accept that a god exists then that would not automatically give us absolute morality.

The assertion that god’s instruction in morality is moral truth is an argument from authority, which is a logical fallacy. God, after all, might be deceiving us or he could simply be misled himself or otherwise incorrect about morality. God could be a devil in disguise (although I find a devil an even less probable entity than a god). Alternatively, god could be a tiny part of a much larger scheme, perhaps overseen by far more powerful gods who establish a superior moral code – the true moral code.

In short, we have no way to verify god’s purported moral truth except to take his word for it.  Indeed, if you do choose to take the Bible or Qur’an as the word of god then there is good and ample reason within those texts to believe that god is wrong about morality.  This fact becomes more apparent as the religious increasingly squirm about, trying to square archaic religious texts with what they know to be right or wrong through an evolving secular understanding.  Just reflect for a moment on the awkward and contradictory responses of religion in recent times to women and homosexuality and you will appreciate what I mean.

There is no evidence that god exists so the question of whether he provides a reliable moral truth is a purely academic one.  All the same, the possibility that a hypothetical god could be wrong punctures a gaping hole in the argument of religious proponents for moral certainty from divine authority.  They should know better than to believe everything they’ve been told by invisible men in the sky.

-meet a friend and get fronted for an 8^th of good local weed

-meet a friend from out of town who is staying with me for a week

-promise her I can only have one beer…go to sold out concert with her (attempt to use fake credentials as a writer to gain entry

-happy it is sold out…my couch looks closer now…smoke a bowl…walk across the street to jazz night

-after 5 more beers I promise I am leaving after one more.

Next morning

-walk around my garden in the morning sun. it is 7:00am….pick the last of my tomatoes for the season

-ponder life and the hate I feel for the little I do conform

-smoke a cigarette

-debate a shower…ponder my empty pipe from the night before and smoke a bowl…get high…

–watch some fox news, CNN, and Jon Stewart show from previous night…laugh at the world’s insanity

-take a shower

-call in sick to work (the day job) and thankful I am free for the the rest of the weekend

-have an interview at 4pm…need a haircut..new shirt..new watch battery

-jump in the car and head out for a day of accomplishment and debauchery

-drive to work…pick up paycheck

-quickly ran inside…grab pay..looked into the eyes of no one and quickly rushed back to my car safe

-stressed about my interview with the fashionista at 4pm

-glad I have my reporter fedora on

-buy cigarettes, a new moleskin, Swiss watch battery, and a new shirt

-stressed I went over my budget. $29.99 Swiss battery for my TAG was beyond my means

-at least I can tell time.—now it is 2pm…two ours before interview

-need beers before this interview…get haircut at Model Barber shop in west asheville

-U joint by 3pm for beers and research,.

-Research the fashionista and Asheville fashion scene

-get bored with fashion and research material for another article

-read some quotes by Hunter S Thompson, Hemingway, Charles Bukowski, and realize I am ready to take this interview by the balls.

-received email…the Fashionista with be 15 minutes late due to a “fitting issue”

–she was actually 30 minutes late

-spent couple more minutes watching videos on youtube for the companies she reps

-finished writing out interview questions

-checked digital recorder…working properly

-drank another beer quickly as I listened to Tchaikovsky on Pandora

-began writing a piece on Hunter S Thompson

-wrote down some notes and recorded some soundbites of myself for my “day in the life as a writer piece”

-read my girlfriends blog…still depressing and poetic as usual

-feel an impending doom for this interview and in general for this coming night and weekend that will follow

-will I be able to hold my shit together and look professional?

-3 beers in…probably not that professional…maybe just try to fool the fashionista for an hour.

-better order a vodka redbull to help dull this self deprecating nonsense.

-Fashionista shows up and immediately goes in PR mode

-glad I dressed nice…she was wearing casual wear and I looked somewhat fashionable.

-she is very chatty

-I can’t stop staring at her eyes…I am glad my recorder is working because I cannot keep up with her while staring like a ignorant school boy

-her boyfriend shows up…I buy him a liquor drink and order one myself

-realized after I listened to interview I talked to much

-recorder ran out of battery (reminder: buy a new rechargeable battery)

-interview is over..went well…head to the bar for a drink with my servers who are now off work at 5pm

-waiting for a girl to show up and meet me at the bar

-wonder if I will survive this night

-girl shows up and then 30 minutes later my friend visiting from out of town shows up with her friend she knows in Asheville

-we get a table…discuss Anthropology, massage therapy, and the duality of man.

-start ordering Vodka redbulls and PBR at the same time

-break a glass of liquor on myself and have to to do a hip thrust manuever in the bathroom to dry my jeans on the hand dryer.

-finished last round…said the goodbyes…and heading off into the night to meet a friend who will let me crash on her couch, and rescue me from myself if needed

-had another interview with a band at 8pm or 10pm after show

-arranged to stay at a friends house and sleep on her couch

-$8 cover at the door at Grey eagle for the show…walk in as if I belong and do not pay anything ‘(the fear has not got me yet)

-it is now 10:30 pm….I missed my second interview

-have a couple beers and leave the second show and head to downtown asheville for bar hopping debauchery

-all rational and intellectual self survival thoughts have gone to sleep for the night and attempting not to fall in the gutter and die in my own vomit is now my mission statement

-Have now made it to the “Southern” downtown Asheville

-become excited I have a bowl packed in my pocket

-take a hard hit of my pipe/close it off/and try to not look too guilty

-get up…walk inside..and light an illegal inside cigarette and play a game of Ms. pac-man on the vintage machine near the back.

-Meet friends of the girl I am with…they hate me immediately, most likely because I mock one of the dumb chicks openly

-Working on keeping upright now

-Walk to Broadway for last call…it is now 1:25 am

-Private bar..no credit cards..pay $4 to the atm to receive $20 bill

-Order 2 PBR and Jager shot…drink PBR in three gulps and take the shot…turn to hand my friend her PBR and she is gone

-Stumble around with beer goggles and start to freak out when I realize I am alone

-Begin to melt psychologically..call her…she is standing 3 feet from me

-”Get us a couple beers” she whispers in my ear…”done” my only response…it is now 2:05 am

-walk behind bar and snake 2 Heineken

-Attempt to listen to my friend talk to a random gay dude on the patio

-He says, “don’t let him stick his dirty Penis in you”.

-What an angry gay man…” I thought gay meant happy” I whisper to my friend

-I was shocked….She had a gay super hero watching over her lady parts

-Laugh out loud at nothing..grab her hand and we begin the long godless walk up the hill to her car

-I still have not vomited..which I am shocked at…I look and smell of a brewery that has been flooded by the Distillery of Asheville

-New Mission statement for tonight—get to her house

-we arrive in North Asheville near UNC Asheville

-have a strange conversation with her apparently gay abused neighbor…his boyfriend beats him regularly and he currently is attempting tp either get a restraining order, or flee to Tampa to live with his cousin

-say goodnight to the world

-Strip down to boxers and tshirt

-grab some ice water

-watch parts of the movie MOON and listen to some Sum 41

-begin to write notes and listen to my digital recorder while laying on the floor

-my friend gets ready for bed herself as I stumble inside after smoking a cigarette and finishing the last of the weed…it is now 4:30 am

-I flop down uncontrollably on her futon and debate yelling at her to come back out to make out with me..insanity ends quickly as I feared she may take me up on the offer and I would be required to perform…which I am sure Whiskey Dick would be the only thing arising to the occasion.

-Physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically fried and require sleep soon. …it is now 5:15am

-close my eyes and sleep

Depravity is the only remaining freedom besides moral corruption. I live in a devoured city of sin…alcohol, tattoos, drugs, and meaningless sex. I wake up knowing I accomplished something, but I was yet unsure of what that could be. I didn’t make my wage for the day, as I called out sick to prepare for my two interviews, one of which I missed.

I sit back the next night after spending a hangover hiking in the mountains and viewing waterfalls while drinking a vodka/grapefruit. I leave the redbull and craziness behind for the night as I take a twisted story from yesterday and attempt to define what went right so I can repeat it again tomorrow

-SPhoto