Retouching Madness

April was the month I officially went crazy. No exaggeration. I'm repeating myself from past entries, but it bears one more mention regarding a quasi-recap for April.

I went mad.



Napoleon XIV -- "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Haa!"

Tasting a Hint of Free Air

Almost there . . .

TV On the Radio -- "Staring at the Sun"

Viral Voyeur

At work, my coworker mentioned that she wanted a sampler for her birthday. So we got into a discussion about samplers and looping. I started scatting an example of something relating to taking found noises in the environment and putting them into remixes, and it sounded like an old viral video remix of William Shatner driving a race car I had found a while back. I totally had to go find it and post it today. I'm usually not a fan of "viral remixes" (they're usually kind of annoying) but I always laugh with this one:


Also -- this one's classic, too. Someone revamped a video of a woman in Siberia who lives with 130 stray cats. Feeding time . . .


DJ Zebra -- "Break Through Love (The Doors and Led Zeppelin)"

Moon Goon

For some reason -- I lost control yesterday.

My sanity was literally slipping away.

I think from too much caffeine intake, cabin fever, social anxiety, the stress of work, and the stress of Patch -- a virus on my computer threatened the very grounds of my composure.

My computer wouldn't start up. I thought another blue screen of death was imminent. If that was the case, holy god, I'd probably be in the hospital right now due to self-inflicted wounds. I had a panic attack. I don't know why, but I had trouble breathing.

This room has taken its toll on me. I'm literally uncomfortable in here now.

I got everything taken care of -- but I accidently got rid of rundll . . . .exe something. Something important within the system32 file world in Windows XP. So far I'm able to do everything I've been able to do on this computer -- except for having antivirus guarding. So, I'm treading lightly still, not visiting any shady sites.

Tonight I went to see "Moon" with Taylor at the International Film Festival. It's about a lone astronaut harvesting energy on the moon and sending it to Earth. He has a contract for 3 years. The entire time he works by himself. Without giving anything away -- his mind and body start acting up.

It was hitting a little too close to home for me. I was getting really uncomfortable in the theater. I've been clenching my teeth in my sleep from too much stress, so my face starting hurting due to me clenching my teeth from the stress. I almost lost it.

Thankfully, I calmed down and enjoyed the movie. The director was present afterward and did a little Q&A. It was a really good picture -- I highly recommend it.



I am in need of a personal vacation. Away from anyone, anything.

All me.

Stereophonics -- "Maybe Tomorrow"

Sprint of All Sprints

I hinted at the following week in my last post. A year spent sulking alone. Bitter, weary, and tired.

This week all signs point to the finish line:

1) It shall be cold all week. 60 degrees (cold compared to last week's 70 to 80 degree weather). Inside minds, the collective unconscious of the Cities, all secretly suggest "Do your work. Everything else can wait."

2) Patch peeps are on standby: a) Schuyler is awaiting a progress report on "Switch" and confirmation on when we're starting mixing. b) Greg is awaiting confirmation on the date and time for our celebratory opening of the "Schematics is Done" red wine. Poised we are.

3) Sunday: Drums and Bass. Monday through Thursday: Guitar. Friday and Saturday: Vocals. Sunday: Fine tuning, rendering, and file transfering.

4) The fresh air of relief is tickling my nostrils . . .

The Prodigy -- "Run With the Wolves"

Isoloper

Spring comes and goes. It's cold again, being that it's the Great North of the Midwest. Usually when spring comes about I think "Well, there's no excuse now for staying indoors. Time to go outside."

Except here's the problem: for the past year, it's been a necessity to stay inside, secluded from the world. Or, if you need to take a break, half of the world already has plans, so you're left by yourself. You can go take walks in nearby parks, drive down to a tourist spot and take in the crowd, go get a bite to eat at a diner, drink coffee and get ideas for art and writing . . . but it doesn't compare to a group out on the town.

I'm going to think back on 2008 as the Year of Seclusion. 2009 has actually led to more seclusion so far, but I think that will disappear next week, which is why I'm touching on this topic tonight. There used to be this huge social side to me, eager to meet and shake the hands of new friends, flirt, wink, court the unknown. Seclusion seriously does something to you, it's no secret.

When I was researching Solitary Confinement in prisons for some of the lyrics in "I Source", there was a detailed month by month guideline for the phases people go through in dealing with the lack of human interaction and stimuli. I'm too lazy to go find it for the purposes of display here, but the moral of this is that you forget how to interact. I've forgotten how to interact.

I'm shy. I avert eye contact, it's hard for me to initiate flirtation if I'm with a friend. I let the other do all of the meeting and greeting, and I'm left looking like a poor schmuck who has nothing to offer the world. Not that I'm bitter about this. I know I'll be getting that social side back, but for the past couple of years it's been hard. When I go out by myself I find it easier to delve into the social schema I've sparingly tapped into, which is no surprise. But it's hard to find the energy to go out to strange places with strangers abound if you've developed minor social anxiety.

Recording Patch in my room has been one of the hardest, most trying events in my life. I feel like a part of me has wasted years of my life in my pursuit of a massive dream. After the EP recording is completed (hopefully within the week) I hope I can look back and say "It was worth it. Losing grasp on reality and society was totally worth it now that you have 'Schematics' in hand, done and ready."

You lose touch on your appearance. I forget I have long hair or short hair, what I did the day prior (that's half the reason I wanted to do a day to day blog for this year, to keep track of my day to day history -- it sort of works, I guess), when I did the laundry last, if I have to do errands and when to call people up on their birthdays. Dates are lost, seasons blend. 2008 went by so fast, this year too. It still feels like Fall, for some reason. I'm outside at work, but you can't focus on how good the day is, the foliage surrounding the playground. You have to make sure children don't get hurt, dodge kids crashing into your crotch all day.

Identity is lost.

I think this is why my main topic in Patch is the loss of identity. Because as I did research, reading about pop culture and rock, I felt myself fade away month by month.

In the memoirs, I'll go on the record and say "Schematics" was not a fun record. It was an ideal I held high since I was little. To have a record all done by me. All the instruments, writing, all me.

"Written, recorded, and produced by Peter Kean." I met the challenge. I beat it.

But that's that. Now, I hope to God I can have a band to help me out in recording from now on. Or at least have a team in a place other than just me in my goddamn room to record. I don't mind editing on my own computer, I'm a control freak, I need to get the editing just right. But everything else?

Recording the never released "Citizens Banned EP" was fun. We were all over the place in the Twin Cities. Parents' houses, Dr. Fink's recording studio, basements, drum booths, practice spaces, living rooms. It was disorganized, but at least we got out in different locales. Interacted. It was fun to record.

I think one of the best feelings portrayed in the "Schematics" recordings is frustration. If you went and listened to isolated vocal tracks and expanded them to their original recording length, hearing the in between banter and coughing and rustling, you'll hear about as much swearing and grunts as heard on a fishing vessel full of testosterone laiden sailors. It fucking sucked.

If I really persevere, really get down to brass tacts, I'll have "Switch" out to Schuyler next Sunday, May 3rd. May 4th, 2008 was the day I started recording "Trachomanic". One . . . whole . . . year. Exactly.

I love symbolism and time tables and how things work out. But I never want to go through a year long endeavor dealing with seclusion ever again.

I think I'd kill myself. I'm not kidding.

Oasis -- "D'You Know What I Mean?"

Army of Darkness

I'm convinced The Cheesecake Factory puts addictive substances in their massive portions. Pastas seasoned with cocaine, salmon covered in both herbs and herb, pastries with layers of heroin mixing in with the cream cheese. You ever had a Cheesecake Factory cheesecake? You totally sit back, sigh, lust for a post-orgasm cigarette. You've just eaten Harry Jones.

I'm also convinced that gnomes run the kitchen. If Willy Wonka's factory is any hint, backstage at our most prestigious suburban malls (where most of the Factories happen to be) a vast network of gnome infested tunnels run underneath, abducting humans for the advancement of their addictive pasta concoctions, raspberry sauces, fucking salt condiments. They spit you back with a drunken memory relating to alien probing and UFO's. When did we start talking about aliens? Probably when the gnome elders were concocting a vast plan to overtake the world slowly but surely in the guise of a consumerist oasis promising mass quantities of post-shopping nourishment and vice. Evildoers of the world: pay attention. The Cheesecake Factory is the LexCorp of reality.

There must be a bug within my leftovers. My computer has been taken over by yet another virus. The bug is emiting a beacon, stealing personal information and storing it within a massive database in the headquarters which happens to be in Santa's Workshop: the greatest mall distributor of them all. Santa's helpers are not cheap knockoffs relating to creepy pedophiles with children sitting on their laps being told children's most lustful hopes and wishes; it's Cheesecake Factory outposts and recon. Look at a waiter next time you're there and see if they twitch from an inserted ear piece with the voice of Egorithon the Great from the Land of Fisthcusth telling them: "Assssssk if they want morrre pieeeee. Yesssss, yesssssss. We will prevaiiiiiillllll." Notice how you will pay copious amounts of money for just two fucking pieces of food. You don't care when you're at the Factory. No, no. You will go home broke and be happy about it.

Next time you decide on visiting the Cheescake Factory know that you will be harboring a monkey on your back with the Gnome Recon Bug Seal of Approval stamped on its underbelly. You have been warned.

The Verve -- "The Drugs Don't Work"

Public Mess

I sat down tonight with a topic in hand to delve into for today's entry. I remember the body, the main section, but I can't for the life of me figure out why the topic came to be. It was at work, a kid did something relating to an old habit even though there was a better way to do whatever it was he was doing right in front of him. This sparked a discussion with my co-teacher.

I can't think of what it was the kid was doing . . .

Ah well.

It was related to Public Mess.

Did you ever have a lazy fit while in your room? You're on the computer, pretty much drained of energy, and something falls from your desk onto the floor. An envelope, let's say. You're too lazy to pick it up, you forget about it. The next day, you notice the envelope but again you don't pick it up. The next day it's almost unnoticeable. The envelope suddenly belongs there in your head and you don't notice it.

This is the status of my room, by the way. Everything is in its right place, just like Fox Mulder's desk in "The X-Files". It's a pig sty, but us pigs know where to find the different kinds of mud when the time calls for it.

I was thinking that that's maybe why society doesn't change. I mentioned a few entries back about how people don't really aspire to change the way their people think in the art world or in social norms. They mainly just put new perspectives on already established norms. I think the essence of Public Mess plays into this as well.

Just like the envelope in your room, people become accustomed to having shitty trash in their pop culture. It almost seems like an empty void if you take antagonists out of the equation. You get rid of all the corrupt executives perpetuating the economic crisis you'll turn to another intern who happened to get sperm on her dress while conducting business as usual with the president. I guess you can say the media makes this possible, the evergoing process of having an interesting story to portray to an apparently bored public.

It's not the media's fault. It's yours. It's ours.

In high school, you're obsessed with the aspect of government conspiracy. The OTHER is up to something behind the curtain. You grow up a little bit and it turns into consumerist guilt: you realize that shit like this happens because you let it happen. You like hearing about it on the 5:00 news after you get home from playing Monopoly: The Real Life Edition with banks and properties in the gamers convention skyscraper orgy downtown. No one speaks up about it. You like hearing about conspiracies, it's part of the norm. Take the faulty government away and you can't blame the mistakes of the world on someone else. You have to look at yourself.

You get used to the mess. It becomes part of you. Part of us.

Street Sweeper Social Club -- "Clap for the Killers"

Eco-Deco

Two things of note for Earth Day -- thanks to Reddit.com.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

And here's a little article that sounds almost like a motivational speech dealing with some of the problems with Earth Day:

"Another Earth Day by David Glenn Cox

Spring brings us a rebirth of plant life, and Christians celebrate the risen Christ. Then, as a barren winter world begins to green, Earth Day is upon us. I remember the first Earth Day oh, so long ago when I was young and idealistic. It all seemed so easy back then; the public was behind us and it all seemed so obvious. You can’t dump untreated chemical waste into your drinking water supply. You can’t dump tons of dangerous chemicals into the atmosphere indefinitely.

The logical argument was won, as was the emotional argument, however this world operates on neither logic nor emotion. This world operates on money and rhetoric. The political systems of this world make the best use of both leaving us to be governed by the dumbest people in the room, sales people who have mastered the euphemism and the double entendre. The last Bush administration offered us the “Blue Skies Initiative” which allowed higher levels of mercury to be pumped into the atmosphere.


Real environmental legislation has cost Americans millions of jobs, not because a clean environment is bad but because it is not cheap. If blue jean or television manufactures will not be allowed to dump dyes and solvents into the water in this country, they will simply move to where the governments are more understanding, i.e., corrupt. Mexico and China are fast becoming environmental wastelands. China adds one coal-fired power plant to her power grid each week. India has built the world's largest wind farm with the output equal to a nuclear plant. If only we could harness the power of endless talk, maybe then can we hope to escape environmental Armageddon.

The pirates operating in the waters of Somalia began as fishermen pushed out of their own territorial waters by international fishing fleets operating outside international law. The illegal fishing was followed by illegal chemical waste-dumping in Somalian waters; nature abhors a vacuum but capitalists love one.
No forms to fill out or fees to pay, just find a weak or nonexistent government with an ocean and start dumping. For the Somalis it quickly evolved into a money-making venture. There was more money to be made by holding the ships hostage and the original task of stopping the dumping and illegal fishing was accomplished as well.

Then those with access to the media began to tell the tales of pirates operating on the high seas. No mention of illegal fishing or violations of territorial sovereignty, only vicious, bloodthirsty pirates. We create most of these problems environmentally, politically, and no matter on what acre of plant Earth the poison pours or the smoke belches or the blood runs, sooner or later it reaches our house.

Poison pet food, toxic baby formula, sweat shops, child labor, forced labor, falling living standards and environmental degradation, the thread of greed runs through it all. It makes Earth Day like world prostitute day; we celebrate them today but go back to screwing them tomorrow. The problems are addressed but never answered. The car companies, in an effort to fight acid rain, began to install plastic coatings on the tops of new cars. Laundry detergent manufacturers began to sell concentrated formulas to cut down on water and transportation costs, but then added deceptively hard to read measuring caps to make sure that you use more than you actually need.

Here in Georgia a band of supposedly educated and well-meaning people sat in the legislature to do the people's bidding. After a full legislative session they were unable to come up with a transportation bill. The Governor tried a power grab by trying to move transportation into his sphere of influence and MARTA, the local mass transit agency, will face draconian funding cuts. They did, however, manage to pass a tax credit for the state's Wall Street investors.

Anyone who has lived in Atlanta more than twenty minutes knows that transportation is the most critical problem facing us. The roads are overcrowded to the point that workmen must price in the cost of travel to any job. But Atlanta is a microcosm of the very crux of our situation worldwide. Those who are most in need of mass transit have the least political power. While those who suffer in the congestion should realize that supporting mass transit is in their best interest, even if they themselves never ride it, but they are deceived by rhetoric.

The politicians promise more Blue Sky initiatives but the end product never matches the rhetoric. Even President Obama’s alternative energy legislation offers funding for improved oil drilling technologies. We are quickly reaching critical mass; we cannot wait through another generation of promises. The energy wars and water wars have begun and your grandchildren will bless you or curse you for what we do today.

Already this Earth is warning us, already places around the world once habitable are becoming uninhabitable. The nation of Maldives has bought land in Australia and the island nation of Kiribati is investigating doing the same. The prospect of nations relocating to avoid rising seas is the canary in the coal mine. These are things that are happening today, right now, while you’re watching American Idol. Yet these stories are footnotes in the news, back page, below-the-fold news.

The naysayers, the twenty percenters as I call them, publish their letters to the editor about environmental alarmists, and news anchors scoff when it snows during a global warming rally. These twenty percenters believe anything they are told by pundits; pulpit or politico and the media parrots the company line. Again the thread that runs through it all is greed. The illusion of a free press when in fact the press is quite expensive and is controlled by the same people who move your job, pollute your waters and blacken your skies.

They put plastic covers on the cars until you buy them, then they take them off. They concentrate detergent to save themselves money, not you! They support the rhetoric against mass transit because they don’t want to pay taxes. Not less taxes, no taxes. They want a return to the Gilded Age and the age of corporate royalty. Besides, no mass transit means more auto sales, more gasoline sales and more profits for them.

Socrates was put to death for atheism and for making the lesser cause appear to be the wiser. We have in this country free speech with the caveat that you cannot yell fire in a crowded theater. What about those who shout that there is no fire when indeed there is? Is that not just as much of a crime? We have Earth Day but Earth Day only fights the toenails of the monster.

Like the Lilliputians we must begin to realize who this monster is, to take its measure, to fight his strength and discover his weaknesses. The beast has endless funding to fight us and has the full support of the mass media, which he owns. But the beast must sell to us or the beast will die and we outnumber the beast a hundred million to one. The beast lives in perpetual fear of us and spends great amounts of money to divide us. White, Black, Brown, Red and Yellow. North American, Central American, South American, European or Asian, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Jew. Man, Woman, Child. Rich, poor, sub-poor, sub-Saharan, sub-human.

The environmental judgment, which awaits us in the next hundred years, will make no such distinctions. It will find all hideaways and free holds and its judgment will pour through the highest gates of the gated communities. We are all one. And we will learn to live as one or we will die alone clutching our money, cursing a world that curses us back. We must learn to rule this world as one or we will be departing from it en masse."

*I'm thankful for days like today, as corny as it sounds. Mainly because it makes me think more and more of how much of a dick I am in my energy wasting. I'm not being sarcastic. Time to break out the bike as my means of transportation.*

Cloud Cult -- "The Girl Underground"

All Aboard the Censor Ship!!

This coming May the school will have it's annual Spring Program across the street at St. Lawrence Church. One of the songs my class is doing is called "Over the Deep Blue Sea". The lyrics pertain to age and jumping aboard a pirate ship: "When I was one I--" (KIDS FILL IN BLANK RHYMING WITH ONE) "on the day I went to sea, I jumped aboard a pirate ship and the captain said to me . . ." There's a chorus and the kids continue rhyming with each consecutive age all the way up to ten. It's a fun song, the kids like it.

One adult at the school thought that maybe the kids shouldn't be singing about pirates and that we should sing another song. We liked the song too much to just throw it away, so we opted to just change the type of ship the kids rode on every year before they were eleven. We settled on "Sailor Ship". I wanted the "Censor Ship", but of course the kids don't know what a Censor is, so my choice was out. God, that would be cool. Kids protesting censorship. Ah, in my dreams . . .

I don't have a tiff with any of this, it's not a big deal to me any more than when I find a shitty potato chip in the middle of a handful of adequate potato chips. But again, while doing the day to day routine of getting the classroom ready, I think about what's going on. I was thinking about censoring children, about dirty words. Why the hell would society create communicable words you're not supposed to use? You're not supposed to communicate with dirty words, so how did the languages of the world come up with them? Were they left over from ages past? We just thought "Eh, we've got enough words, let's throw these ones out in the trash, never to be used again. Hey, I said that's trash, don't use it!!! STOP!"

A couple of weeks ago I was hanging out with a couple of 40 year old drunken ladies, all boasting about how nothing offends them. I retorted and said "Yeah, but is there one word, one solitary concept that really bugs you when it's blurted out? Rape? Abortion? Just a word?"

All said "cunt" was the only word that offended them.

Honestly, and maybe this is just because I'm a cold, heartless bastard, but nothing offends me. Nothing irks me in the midst of a discussion. Even if people say really cruel things about my appearance or art I couldn't give two shits. It's weird, since I'm afraid of what people MIGHT say to me, but after things have been said I'm okay, regardless if it was good or bad.

I'm offended if people tell me what to do, though, but that's different. Tell me not to say certain things? Offensive. But other than that -- nope. People get so wrapped up in certain concepts that might be related to race, gender, what have you -- but most of the time a lot of the concepts people get themselves in a knot over don't pertain to them personally. Generally, maybe (again, race, sex, etc.), but not personally.

I wonder why people do that? Is it a byproduct of the human endeavor, to understand and overcome some of our animalistic urges to fight, scream, lust, destroy? We see others do things that we consider wrong and try to change society? Others teach us? The order of society, the norm, is to love your fellow man. Maybe we put things into our "offensive" schemas to give ourselves controlled flags. Policing ourselves. Creating order within the system of society.

I answered my own questions.

Throw a wrench into the spokes and people go fucking crazy. Isn't that ironic? People get downright nasty if you raise a question dealing with those "offensive flags", almost creating disorder in their fight to make you obey the rules their society hath deemed ACCEPTABLE.

I came up with a lyric for "Switch" yesterday. I usually think cynically about my fellow artists, my peers, my liberal cohorts. I've thrown around the term "liberal conservativism" (the notion that liberals get so stuck on language, politically correct means of discourse, that nothing ever changes in the world, even if it's for a positive cause -- liberals are just as bad as conservatives in their closed mindedness even though they call themselves open minded). I call indie music listeners "Mis-phil-anthropists" in the song.

I think what I mean is that underground counterculture of any kind tends to really focus on hating the whole of general society in which it belongs. They've turned their back on the whole and turned to a close knit group of like minded individuals. My group happens to be indie rock/starving artists. One of the norms in this group is to help everybody, there is no difference between different sexes, orientations, or races. A norm that pertains to this is that if anyone starts to mention anything pertaining to those non-differences, whether it be pro or con, ears are pricked, eyes bulge out, and nostrils flare. It's just a matter of WHEN, not IF, someone will retort with a comment back, asking a question back to put that instigator in their place. Nevermind full out racists, sexists, bigots -- most of the time my group is pretty silent with those people, since they can't be "saved" and/or persuaded to see our side. But if people are on the edge, you can bet they'll be getting a talking to.

When I'm "calling out" these people in the song, I think what I'm trying to say is no matter what I'll probably offend someone along the way of trying to change the way art is made. The concept of the song fits in with the theme of Sound. Of. Static. I think art isn't doing the job it needs to do. We're so stuck on not offending anybody but just trying to put new perspectives on already established norms. Art doesn't grab me like it should. Or maybe I'm, again, numb, stupid, and naive. So, most works of art, especially rock, fall short of creating any social change, because it's not poignant enough. Today's rock is pretty weak. Indie rock isn't dangerous at all. It's for dancing, relaxing, reminiscing. At least to me. Sorry if I offended you if you're a diehard indie rock fan (or listen to Minneapolis' The Current).

I'm going all over the place in this (I think I'm just avoiding recording). To wrap it up: I'm offended only when people say I can't do certain things. I'm pretty level headed. I will never kill, steal, sexually assault, tattle. So when someone says I'm doing something "bad" I question it, write about it, since it bugs me. That's my art.

The less offensive something is the more likely it is to be discussed in broader circles.

Cunt bothers you? Maybe one way to kill the word is to not hide from it but to let it into your vernacular more and more. Discuss why it bugs you. Then we can decide to put the word away for good, or to embrace it as much as the word Fuck. Or are people offended by it because it gives the word power?

I've always thought that. You can't say cunt or else it loses it's feminine power.

Hmmm . . . so now it's ownership and entitlement rather than just a putdown to the female anatomy ("It's ours!"). At least in the men vs. women scenario. Women saying it to other women? Again, Skull and Bones, if you speak of it too much it loses it's luster. It's a secret. Secrets make things powerful.

Risque concepts are so fucking interesting to me . . . I wish I had the courage to discuss them in prose more, rather than in just my lyrics and performance.

Radiohead -- "No Surprises"

Hail Hookah

Apparently, the festivities today derived from a group of high schoolers in San Rafael, California, who would meet every day at 4:20 to smoke up. This was the time chosen simply because that was the time detention was let out at the school.

Honestly, I think most of the people who announce "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!" on this date are either new to the drug and below the age of 20, ripe with ignorance, or they have an IQ of 50 or below.

Happy holidays!



Bob Dylan -- "Everybody Must Get Stoned"

Sonic Alchemy

Handed off Tracks 1-4 of "Schematics" to Schuyler today. He said they actually didn't need too much work from my mixdowns, rather than some of his creative input. So we'll probably go into mastering sooner . . . after I record "Switch" we'll dive head first into sprucing this baby up enough to be ready for public release.

May 24th is the deadline.

Shield Your Eyes -- "Arc Flash"

The Monkey Beat Me

I caved . . . currently making a batch of coffee right now. I figured doing the 1,2,3 system was stupid. I have to sit down and figure out a better way to do this. 1/2 Caffeinated, Tea, chocolate, nothing.

Ohhhhh . . . can't wait for that first sip . . . god, I'm itchy . . .



Marilyn Manson -- "My Monkey"

Monkey Resistance

Update on the coffee weaning:

UGH! I'm more irritable than usual. I'm thinking a little more clearly, but yes, the headaches hath taken over. I'm on the "Two Day" portion, meaning two days without caffeine before I can have caffeine, then it's on to the "Three Day" portion. Had the worst headache today, complete with many a reach for a nearby Monster can.

"NO! NO!! YOU CAN'T!!! STICK TO IT, MAN!!!"

Pretty soon, I'll turn into this:


Mott the Hoople -- "All the Young Dudes"

Mother Goosebumps

Get ready for a dorkgasm . . .

I finished reading "Goosebumps: The Haunted Mask II" to the kids on the playground this afternoon. After work, I got the itch to see if any other Goosebumps books were available online. Lo and behold, I found a jackpot:

http://www.scribd.com/search?cx=007890693382555206581%3A7fgc6et2hmk&cof=FORID%3A10&ie=UTF-8&q=Goosebumps+Welcome+to+Dead+House#1020

The site has tons of PDF files copied from the original Goosebumps books. Granted, it doesn't have every Goosebumps book ("Monster Blood" isn't anywhere to be found, sadly) but it'll bring you back to your childhood if you were an avid reader way back when.

My Grandma gave me Goosebumps when I was in second grade. "Monster Blood" was the first. She went to a local bookstore in Buffalo, New York, asked the clerk "What are kids reading nowadays?" They showed her the Goosebumps aisle. Knowing I loved monsters and horror, it was perfect.

I was hooked. I attribute R.L. Stine to be the one of my main influences. He's very easy to read, he's descriptive, he has a vivid imagination.

But thinking about it, if it hadn't been for my Grandma, I wouldn't have obtained some of my most precious influences. She bought me horror movies, my first Parental Advisory album (Pantera's "The Great Southern Trendkill"), the aforementioned R.L. Stine collection. She always laughs when I tell about some of these things and how they've influenced me. She always says something like "If I knew what I was actually buying you at the time I wouldn't have bought it!"

I'm so fucking glad she holds ignorance hand in hand with her love for me.

Now, picture this: I didn't have cable when I was younger, but my Grandparents did. My brother and I would watch hours of MTV, Nick, HBO. Korn, Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson all come on once when I was in fifth grade. I was hooked. At home, I hear Pantera's "Drag the Waters", Marilyn Manson's "Sweet Dreams", Type O' Negative on a late night metal program on a Milwaukee Rock Station, Lazer 103, as it was called at the time. My birthday rolls around in sixth grade, my Grandma asks me what I would want. I tell her I want the new Pantera record.

In comes the mail, I open my presents on my birthday, I go upstairs to listen privately to my almost secretive posession . . . Upon the first five seconds something changed within me, a schema metastasized into something different, no music had ever been as intense, and a huge grin appeared on my face. I actually attribute that day to be the core influence behind Patch. Mixing in with some of the horror stories I had written in response to Goosebumps, I started formulating a vision.

Here's the song that sparked catastrophy, all thanks to my Meemaw:

Pantera -- "The Great Southern Trendkill"

I Pay My Taxes

The post office was crazy today. All tax day related . . .



Pink Floyd -- "Money"

Inbox Beware

Today at work the new director's 8 year old daughter came up and said "Peter! Guess what book I have in my backpack?"

I said "What?"

"Goosebumps!"

I shit a brick. I became my ten year old self again.

"Can I read it?!" I shouted with excitement.

She said "Sure, go ahead."

The kids haven't been this excited to sit and hear a story since I used to tell Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark tales every day at their request. With Goosebumps the madness has returned. The kids actually wanted to sit through 9 chapters. That's like forty pages. It's "The Haunted Mask II", not too much of a scary subject matter. I would love to just sit and read every single Goosebumps book with them, starting from Number 1. I think I have about 40 books from when I was a little. I hope my parents haven't thrown them away.

Just to dabble into them again with attentive, freaked out kids . . . dream come true . . . let the parental complaints start falling into my inbox!!! I don't care!!







Ghost Hunter -- "In the Early Months of the Emergency"

I Hoped to End

Put a check by "In Hopes to Mend". Finished 'er up today.



Blitzen Trapper -- "Wild Mountain Nation"

Chocolate Jesus

For your peaceful Easter Sunday . . .

One of the best scenes from Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey:


Death by critters:


Just because I haven't seen Critters 2 in forever:


Tom Waits -- "Chocolate Jesus"

Rubber Hole

I went to Tires Plus this afternoon to change out my leaky rear tire. The man helping me seemed to not have a clue what to do. He was wearing a work shirt and tie, seemed like a manager, but he couldn't find my name at all in the computer. I had an appointment for 12:00, he was lost. He kept asking "So, what do you want to do? Are you gonna wait around or something?"

I answered questions that he never asked. "I'll give you the keys. I'm going to hang out here in front of the television, just call me when you're ready."

"Okay, sir."

I started to get a headache thinking about getting shit service, having them take off the wrong tire, hassling me into getting a full set of new tires to even out the worn treads to new treads, etc. What was really getting me razzled was the TV. It was tuned to WCCO, the infomercial time slot.

A football coach (Jimmy something) turned into a snake oil salesman for trading tips. Everyone in the program wore headsets like a telemarketer for some reason. They all looked southern, they all looked heavily made up. They looked fake.

Yet I was compelled. How the fuck do these things suck you in?! I have no interest in trading or stocks (yet, I guess), and I know it's all a scam. But I was seriously making a mental note of the dates for the Trading Expo this coming week to cash in on huge tips that could boost my financial future. I got dizzy.

I literally felt my brain turning to mush. Local television UHF/VHF stations are the worst for that. There's nothing on those stations that's worth a damn. If a TV is tuned to those stations and you can't change the station it's like purgatory and torture. All the other customers were staring blankly at the screen. I got really ancy, couldn't stop moving around.

After an hour's worth of Trading Tips and a Lawn Trimmer infomercial they called me up and we settled on getting one tire put on. They tried to do a pair, but I insisted on one tire.

I walked outside like an inmate set free from prison. I did what any newly freed man would do . . . went to get a sub sandwich.

The Pixies -- "Where is my Mind?"

Killing my Monkey

The 100th day of 2009!!!

Looking back on the year so far, it hasn't amounted to too much. I wanted every day to be huge, special. There has only been a small handfull of those sorts of days. My body is extremely lethargic and lazy. I think one of the culprits is caffeine.

So, in an effort to start on a 101st day resolution, I'm going to try to kick my caffeine addiction. Again. Start running after I finish up "Switch". I don't know if this is conducive to quitting adequately, it's just an experiment, but I'm thinking of doing a sort of weening that goes as follows:

April 11 -- Have coffee
(0 days in between)
April 12 -- Have coffee
(1 day in between)
April 14 -- Have coffee
(2 days in between)
April 17 -- Have coffee
(3 days in between)
April 21 -- Have coffee . . .

I'll probably have the worst headache throughout the week. Going to go buy some ibuprofen tomorrow. I'll report my current condition as the week wears on.

Oh yeah, it's Good Friday. I love how I saw a link on Google, a festive interjection of jubilee: "HAVE A HAPPY GOOD FRIDAY!!" You click on it and the image below permeates your pixels:
Yeah, I'm not Christian, but that painting does not bring images of joy and jubilee into my brain. Apparently, Good Friday is the most somber day in Christian lore. You're supposed to extinguish candles, cover up crosses, think about mourning Jesus and his sacrifice. So . . . why was there a website shouting "HAVE A HAPPY GOOD FRIDAY!!!" It should be "Shhhh, have a somber Holy Friday, shh shh, don't say anything back. Think about Jesus."

Some people on Twitter were writing "I CAN EAT MEAT NOW, BITCHES!!" Uh, no, you're not supposed to. It's Friday. Plus, you're supposed to be fasting and doing charitable deeds, that's gorging in gluttony and greed, you pig.

Totally confusing us non-Christians. No wonder nothing makes any sense.

Sleepy Sun -- "Lord"

Coma Blackout

I sat down and ate spaghetti with a new soulmate tonight.

Topics of conversation:

1. Real Jewish mothers. They live up to the stereotypes like you wouldn't believe.

2. The Art Farm . . .

3. Why "Rent" is now a victim of modernist classicism in theatre. Fuck "Rent", move on, make something new and profound like "Rent" used to be.

4. Watched an awkward rendition of the theme song to "H.R. Puffnstuf" performed by a drunken third party intruder complete with lots of drunken burping, flubbing of lines, slurrage, and sweaty brow. I honestly don't know how it started, why it occurred. It's just one of those things that seems slightly appropriate only after a little wine intake.



The fun will continue throughout the weekend . . .

Michael Jackson -- "In the Closet"

Hook, Line, and Thinker

This week I've been doing a lot of research in the realm of internet distribution and marketing for Patch. With the EP nearing completion, I figured it was time to get the ball rolling on getting the name Patch out into the world.

Artists say "Live your dreams. If you keep at your dream you'll make it a reality. Hone your craft and persevere."

I think that's generalized bullshit. Yeah, all of that's true, but it's about as useful as an astrological reading from your local community newspaper. You need to research. The music biz ain't what it used to be. Obviously, record labels are failing, I don't have to say that ever again. But playing live venues locally isn't going to cut it either. You have to do more than have a Myspace, Twitter, Facebook account.

A lot of the ideas that I'm garnering for Patch stem from the realm of viral marketing. People will notice you more if you're doing something strange, giving people a glimpse into a weird subsection of rock that others normally wouldn't set foot in. You want to change the world with rock? Shut up, you're not going to change the world with rock.

But you can bring people into your world of rock, the way you see it. Turn heads in a new direction. Keep things secret, create an aura around yourself that's true . . . but somewhat exaggerated.

That's what I'm thinking about for the upcoming year . . .

One of the best sites for making music on Web 2.0 is www.topspinmedia.com. A plethora of ideas pop into my head after I visit this website and the various sites it links to, whether it be marketing or song ideas, pictures, videos. Anything. Super inspirational, yet kind of scary at the same time. It's like "Jesus, am I seriously wanting to have this be my career?"

Jenny Lewis -- "Acid Tongue"

Wireless Evolution

A definite first.

We have a new kid in the class. He was rooting through his cubby, looking for a sweater, when all of a sudden a cell phone dropped out onto the floor. I thought it was a toy. So as he tried to put on his coat (failing by putting it on upside down), I picked up the phone and pressed a button. It turned on. It was a real, working cell phone.

Now, granted, it was a Motorola piece of crap from the year 1834, but a goddamn 4 year old HAD A CELL PHONE!!! I asked "Is this yours?" He said, "Yeah, my mom gave it to me." I said "Not just for today, right? I mean, this is YOUR phone, for always." He said "Yeah, it's my own phone."

The kid has a cell phone. I was speechless. He showed me how to work the damn thing. He doesn't know how to put on a jacket but he knows how to text message!

Childhood priorities have obviously changed since my day.

Beck -- "Cellphone's Dead"

Electric Monoliths

"In Hopes" outro . . . heavy bongo work . . .

Pearl Jam -- "Brother"

Smitten Ninja

Sunday consisted of a couple of events, but only one that I care to elaborate on: Greg called me, asking if I could perhaps help him move his bed around in his room. I accepted his offer of leftover pizza, so I traipsed on over to his humble abode. Upon entering, he immediately turned on his new Roland machine and showed me some new tricks. He then proceeded to play all the riffs from "Typosgraphy" without me even asking about his progress with Patch.

Apparently, he has been doing his homework . . .

The Black Keys -- "I Got Mine"

From Dusk Till Dusk (Pt. 2)

Currently editing the 24 hour film. It's called "False Steps".

We came up with the idea for it pretty much in the first five minutes of brainstorming. The theme was "Second Chance", the element that needed to be included was "Blowing a Bubble". I said "What about a fortune teller blows a bubble to tell people their future?"

Fellow cohort Ashleigh Swenson piped up: "Oooh! They blow bubbles in chocolate milk!"

Went from there . . .

Twenty people were around for the brainstorming. Now, only seven are sitting around the editing table in the dining room. I'm only going off of an hour's worth of sleep. A lot of us are sick from greasy pizza intake, too much beer, too much Monster Energy drink. I've been pooping nonstop today.

Compared to last year's experience, it was more of a stressful, confusing jaunt than a fun, involved project shared by all. It was still fun and involved, but not as much as "Ctrl+S" was. Unbeknownst to me, a team of writers had already been handpicked for writing after the brainstorming. People sort of picked up the pace themselves afterward. Lots left. I was left sitting in the living room not knowing what to do. I didn't feel like this was "our" project this time around. It was more the four writers'. Not that that's bad, I just prefer the method we used last year of everyone writing the storyline together. So, again, comparitively, last year was better.

However, this film is interesting in its character development. Extremely hilarious moments were caught on film (my favorite involves Adri running in a hotel parking lot in nothing but a towel coming to a colorfully interjected realization dealing with a prostitute).

Oooh, new development. The edited film came out to 8:00 . . . worse than last year's 5:00. Holy crap. One hour. We're back in the same spot we were last year, cutting it right down to the wire.

Fingers crossed . . . it is 9:00 . . .

. . . it is now 10:50. We submitted the film in time, but it was cut down so much it looks like a bad preview. Plus, in order to save time, we rendered the movie in low quality. It was unwatchable.

So -- I consider us not turning it in.

You win some, you lose some.

Hot Chip -- "Made in the Dark"

From Dusk Till Dusk (Pt. 1)

Tonight, we start our engines. Tonight, we have pizza. Tonight at 9:59, we stand around one computer. Tonight at 10:00, we get a theme and an element that we have to include within a film that we will be making for the next 24 hours. From 10:00pm Friday, April 3 until 10:00pm Saturday, April 4 we will proceed to make a film. No idea if it will be successful or not, but it will be one of the more shiny moments for 2009 and the household.

Last year's 24 Hour Film Race was awesome. We were armed only with Taylor's camcorder, which he said didn't have good color anymore. We also didn't have sound equipment, so we opted to make a movie without a soundtrack. The best alternative: silent black and white film based off of old 20's slapstick comedy, straight out of "Sherlock Jr." territory. We used public recordings of Scott Joplin ragtime tunes as the soundtrack.

We pulled it off within mere seconds. We literally ran to the place where you drop off your projects and got there with only seconds to spare. Louie was almost doing 100 on the freeway to get it there on time. We were okay with the submitted film, but we had filmed so much more that we had wanted to include. So, the next day, I edited a Director's Cut version. Came out to be around 7:00 (each film in the race has to be 3:30 or under with thirty seconds for credits at the end).

I did the editing last year with some minor casting jaunts. We started filming early in the morning, starting at 7:10am, actually the first shot you see in the film was the first shot Taylor attempted to record. 8:00 we were filming on location. We filmed until about 3:30, I captured the film onto my computer and started to edit the scenes we had already filmed. The rest of the gang went out again, got more footage, came back around 5:00. I edited furiously until around 9:00pm, stressed all the while. After I was done, it was over the limit. About 5:00. Director Taylor came in, edited the project down to 3:20. We finished editing around 9:30pm. We rendered it, tried writing it onto a DVD -- it wouldn't do it. I don't know how or why, but it finally wrote and spit the DVD out at 9:53. I caught this moment on camera. You want to see stress exhibited in humans? Watch that footage.

So, it shall be an interesting weekend . . .

Here's last year's Director's Cut version. It's called "CTRL+S":


Queen -- "Tie Your Mother Down"

Yo'plaited

I hereby petition to recall Yoplait's Go-Gurt. Every time I get near one of these fucking things I get yogurt spilled all over me.

I can imagine a group of people in the Yoplait marketing department trying to come up with the next Yogurt related product. Something for kids, they think.

One person snaps their fingers: "I've got it!! Yogurt in a tube!!"

Another lady named Doris says: "Bill, that's disgusting."

"Have you tasted our Light products, Doris?"

Doris doesn't reply.

Bill says, "Exactly. Why not, right? Kids open it, squish it out, boom, yogurt in the stomach and it's fun to boot!"

Another schmuck named Todd pipes up: "What's fun about a tube of yogurt, Bill? Is it shaped like a hose, a cool shape, is there a button to shoot it out?"

Bill looks on like Todd's crazy. "Todd, seriously, you're such a lame duck. I don't hear you coming up with anything. No, it's simple. It's just a tube of yogurt!"

Todd: "Again, what's fun about a tube of yogurt? Sounds about as much fun as throwing a stick around a yard."

Bill nods: "It totally is." He is completely serious, by the way. And the rest of the group catches on, except Todd.

Todd: "But it's not practical. Are you planning on having a safeguard to keep the yogurt in, like a juicebox?"

Bill: "No, they just rip it open, it's about as big as a quarter, they put it in their mouth and squish. It's not a hard concept, Todd!"

Todd: "But kids are messy. It's going to get all over the place!"

Bill: "So? Messes are fun, that's what I'm trying to tell you!!!"

That's the last day Todd works at Yoplait. He jumps out of a window on the thirty fourth floor of the headquarters two minutes after excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

It's fucking yogurt in a wrapper. A tube of yogurt. Kids can't rip it open, so they use scissors. They cut too far into the tube and yogurt explodes everywhere. Kids drop the tubes onto tables, SPLURT! yogurt everywhere. Plus, the scissors are disgustingly sticky and brown after a day of Go-Gurt cutting.

Fuck you Yoplait for your wonderful product. You've at least helped Bounty sell more paper towels to victimized parents and child care centers. That'll boost the economy!

Quarashi -- "Stick 'Em Up"

Oral of Lisp

On Saturday I visited the Mall of America to buy a Signature Confectionary Collection spoon from Macy's for my mom's birthday. Near Nordstrom's there was an American Idol audition. On a whim (probably from the Caribou Coffee I just had) I submitted an application. I sang "Billie Jean" for the audition.

Today I got the phone call. They want me for another audition . . . the one in front of the famous three judges . . . I don't really know what to think of this . . .

The Veils -- "Killed by the Boom"