So, for those of you who don't already know*, I once punched Amy Scaffidi in the face. By request. Out of friendship. Yes, it makes sense, stop looking at me like that.
Anyways, I was just laying in bed trying to think of new song material, and it occurred to me to write a song about this. And by this, I mean the time I punched my very good friend Amy in the face. I've got some lyrics worked out and an idea for the melody. I'm not going to post anything here; I want this one to be new to everyone when it's performed the first time. I will, however, share the title I have in mind:
MY FIST+YOUR FACE=LOVE
* If you're reading this, there's a good chance you do already know, as Amy and I love talking about this.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Stories!
Inspiration has struck, and tonight I finally have a chance to sit down and write. I've just completed a rough draft for a story, the beginning of a new writing project. I don't want to say too much about it yet, but I think there's some potential here.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Looking through old computer files I found 2 documents related to a story I was working on in early '08. The story itself, however, is nowhere to be found. Like all my unfinished stories (and for the record, I've finished very few of the stories I've started writing) this story was a rambling character exploration without a clear idea of where the plot was going. It focused on a couple, Simon and Samantha. Samantha has a bizarre allergy to water, is extremely ugly by even the most accepting standards, (wicked witch without the magic) and is verbally abusive to Simon, but loves him dearly. It's just her way. Simon understands and doesn't mind. He's an extremely submissive person. Their relationship works because they wouldn't work with anyone else; Samantha is too big of a bitch, and Simon's too much of a pushover.
I got the idea for the story after read Wicked, the Oz revisionist novel. I really liked that book, and the scene that stuck with me the most is when the protagonist, the witch, is running through the snow on a mission and has to cover up because she's harmed by water (which, of course, you know). Shortly after finishing the book, we had a snow storm and I began thinking of what it would be like to have that sort of weakness in the real world.
The document that I lost is the very beginning of the story wherein nothing really interesting happens, but I spent a lot of time with it establishing who these characters are, and the nature of their relationship. What I still have is a letter from Samantha to Simon (which is probably among my favorite things that I've ever written), and a scene I thought of in which Samantha gets tried as a witch by an extremest church, and is left tied between to large poles to die in a rainstorm.
Check this out:
My Dearest, Detestable Simon,
I weep when I think of you, and for that I curse the day we met. Your memory brings burning tears from my eyes which roll down my cheeks leaving scorched flesh in their wake. Despite my better judgment, I miss you terribly and long for the day when I can once again look upon your pathetic face with that obnoxious grin I’ve come to both love and adore. I’m not worried that you’re being unfaithful; your taste in disgusting creatures such as me leaves your choice of potential lovers in my absence extremely limited. Truly, you are as stupid as you are annoying, and for that, if nothing else, I love you.
To satisfy your nosey concern for my family’s well being, know that they are all well, except of course for my dearly departed grandfather. Mother asks about you incessantly. It’s no wonder you two get along so well; you both seem to have an uncontrollable urge to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. She misses you, and wishes for me to convey to you her hope that we’ll be married someday, though I assure her I would never burden you with my hand in marriage. Even a little toad like you deserves better.
I can almost hear you asking “enough about Mother, how was the funeral?” Well, it was everything a funeral is supposed to be, dismal and boring. I don’t remember much about the wake afterward. I was very, very drunk. You know how close Grandpa and I were. Even now, weeks later, I feel the sting of his absence.
I know I’ve been gone longer than I had originally planned. The death of someone as wealthy and influential and Grandpa leaves much to be done by the family, and it’s taken longer than expected. In the years you and I have been together this is the longest we’ve been apart, and I’m sure you miss my cruelty as much as I miss your submissive pandering. But be comforted by the fact that we are almost done with our work here, and I will be home soon. And God help you if the place isn’t spotless when I return.
With all the love this black heart can muster,
Samantha
P.S. Have you been feeding my cat? If he’s lost a single pound under your care I shall string you up by your toes and beat you about the head with a fire poker until it cracks open like an egg.
Hugs and kisses, yours forever, so on and so forth,
S.
***
Two large men held Samantha by the front doors of the church. She was naked, bleeding from the nose, and terrified. In front of her at the pulpit the minister pointed at her.
“This creature is a witch, brothers and sisters! If her vile countenance isn’t enough to convince you, consider the acts of fiery destruction to befall us since she entered our midst! Consider the result of our tests!” At that, one of the men holding Samantha lifted her left hand up, still red and swollen from being submerged. The congregation all stared at her, mumbling their agreement.
“Godammit I’m not a witch you bastards!” One of the men holding her punched her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her.
“Silence, you fiend!” The minister was now leaning so far over the pulpit to point at her he was practically falling over it. “You have been in congress with the devil! I can think of no better punishment than that which the Almighty has already sentenced you to. May God have mercy on your soul!”
At that Samantha was turned around to face the doors as two women opened them. A scent filled the church. Samantha recognized it, and it filled her with terror. It was about to rain.
The scent also brought back memories of Simon. Back home during storms, he would open all of the windows to let the smell of the rain fill the house; another way to let Samantha experience water without being hurt. In the midst of the fear and panic swirling in her mind as she recoiled from the cold, damp air, appeared a glimmer of regret for the way she had always treated Simon. If only he were here, just so she could see him one more time.
She was dragged outside and placed between two large wooden stakes in the ground. Thick ropes hung from them which were tied to her wrists. The congregation had come out to form a semi-circle. Samantha immediately began struggling with the ropes, trying to get her hands free, but it wasn’t long before a tiny spot on her arm started to burn, then another on the other arm. As the sprinkle escalated to a shower, Samantha got a glimpse past the open doors of the church. Before she lost her wits to the pain, she saw a familiar looking blonde woman, who had been kneeling at the alter, stand and turn towards the doors. With a blank expression, she walked forward reaching out to close them. In her last cognizant moment, Samantha shouted the name of her enemy. Inside, even with the heavy doors now closed, Cynthia could hear. She turned back to the altar to continue her prayer for forgiveness.
Steam rose from Samantha’s body as she stood writhing and screaming in agony. Only a few of the parishioners seemed to show any sign of compassion, which even with them was limited to looking away and covering the ears.
Samantha’s world had gone black. She couldn’t hear anything, not even her own screams. The smell of the rain had vanished; there were no smells of any kind. All that existed was pain and remorse.
I got the idea for the story after read Wicked, the Oz revisionist novel. I really liked that book, and the scene that stuck with me the most is when the protagonist, the witch, is running through the snow on a mission and has to cover up because she's harmed by water (which, of course, you know). Shortly after finishing the book, we had a snow storm and I began thinking of what it would be like to have that sort of weakness in the real world.
The document that I lost is the very beginning of the story wherein nothing really interesting happens, but I spent a lot of time with it establishing who these characters are, and the nature of their relationship. What I still have is a letter from Samantha to Simon (which is probably among my favorite things that I've ever written), and a scene I thought of in which Samantha gets tried as a witch by an extremest church, and is left tied between to large poles to die in a rainstorm.
Check this out:
My Dearest, Detestable Simon,
I weep when I think of you, and for that I curse the day we met. Your memory brings burning tears from my eyes which roll down my cheeks leaving scorched flesh in their wake. Despite my better judgment, I miss you terribly and long for the day when I can once again look upon your pathetic face with that obnoxious grin I’ve come to both love and adore. I’m not worried that you’re being unfaithful; your taste in disgusting creatures such as me leaves your choice of potential lovers in my absence extremely limited. Truly, you are as stupid as you are annoying, and for that, if nothing else, I love you.
To satisfy your nosey concern for my family’s well being, know that they are all well, except of course for my dearly departed grandfather. Mother asks about you incessantly. It’s no wonder you two get along so well; you both seem to have an uncontrollable urge to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. She misses you, and wishes for me to convey to you her hope that we’ll be married someday, though I assure her I would never burden you with my hand in marriage. Even a little toad like you deserves better.
I can almost hear you asking “enough about Mother, how was the funeral?” Well, it was everything a funeral is supposed to be, dismal and boring. I don’t remember much about the wake afterward. I was very, very drunk. You know how close Grandpa and I were. Even now, weeks later, I feel the sting of his absence.
I know I’ve been gone longer than I had originally planned. The death of someone as wealthy and influential and Grandpa leaves much to be done by the family, and it’s taken longer than expected. In the years you and I have been together this is the longest we’ve been apart, and I’m sure you miss my cruelty as much as I miss your submissive pandering. But be comforted by the fact that we are almost done with our work here, and I will be home soon. And God help you if the place isn’t spotless when I return.
With all the love this black heart can muster,
Samantha
P.S. Have you been feeding my cat? If he’s lost a single pound under your care I shall string you up by your toes and beat you about the head with a fire poker until it cracks open like an egg.
Hugs and kisses, yours forever, so on and so forth,
S.
***
Two large men held Samantha by the front doors of the church. She was naked, bleeding from the nose, and terrified. In front of her at the pulpit the minister pointed at her.
“This creature is a witch, brothers and sisters! If her vile countenance isn’t enough to convince you, consider the acts of fiery destruction to befall us since she entered our midst! Consider the result of our tests!” At that, one of the men holding Samantha lifted her left hand up, still red and swollen from being submerged. The congregation all stared at her, mumbling their agreement.
“Godammit I’m not a witch you bastards!” One of the men holding her punched her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her.
“Silence, you fiend!” The minister was now leaning so far over the pulpit to point at her he was practically falling over it. “You have been in congress with the devil! I can think of no better punishment than that which the Almighty has already sentenced you to. May God have mercy on your soul!”
At that Samantha was turned around to face the doors as two women opened them. A scent filled the church. Samantha recognized it, and it filled her with terror. It was about to rain.
The scent also brought back memories of Simon. Back home during storms, he would open all of the windows to let the smell of the rain fill the house; another way to let Samantha experience water without being hurt. In the midst of the fear and panic swirling in her mind as she recoiled from the cold, damp air, appeared a glimmer of regret for the way she had always treated Simon. If only he were here, just so she could see him one more time.
She was dragged outside and placed between two large wooden stakes in the ground. Thick ropes hung from them which were tied to her wrists. The congregation had come out to form a semi-circle. Samantha immediately began struggling with the ropes, trying to get her hands free, but it wasn’t long before a tiny spot on her arm started to burn, then another on the other arm. As the sprinkle escalated to a shower, Samantha got a glimpse past the open doors of the church. Before she lost her wits to the pain, she saw a familiar looking blonde woman, who had been kneeling at the alter, stand and turn towards the doors. With a blank expression, she walked forward reaching out to close them. In her last cognizant moment, Samantha shouted the name of her enemy. Inside, even with the heavy doors now closed, Cynthia could hear. She turned back to the altar to continue her prayer for forgiveness.
Steam rose from Samantha’s body as she stood writhing and screaming in agony. Only a few of the parishioners seemed to show any sign of compassion, which even with them was limited to looking away and covering the ears.
Samantha’s world had gone black. She couldn’t hear anything, not even her own screams. The smell of the rain had vanished; there were no smells of any kind. All that existed was pain and remorse.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Hello blog
Haven't posted here in a while. Interestingly, the only thing I've been really unmotivated to do lately is write in my unmotivated blog! This is good... well, you know what I mean.
Here's stuff that has happened/is happening:
The Caterpalooza show went really well. I was blind, and singing my atheism songs in front of my highly religious family was a little awkward, but I felt really good about the whole thing.
The World of Darkness game that has been "happening" since fucking November is actually, like, happening! The addition of Dave and Julie tonight makes 7 players who all have really interesting characters. I'm excited about this!
$D money and I are kicking around an idea for an acoustic Pink Floyd show this winter. He's going to play banjo. It'll be sick. Stay tuned.
At the Dowd's housewarming/Rikku's birthday party last night, I decided that for my birthday in September, I'm going to throw a funeral for myself. This could potentially be really fun. And sad. And everything else.
Last week Bryan and I went to a poetry open mic night, and saw The Book Not Yet Written. I've been taking a new interest in poetry since.
Also, new song idea a few days ago. It's about fucking time I write a happy song, and this one will be about my awesome friends.
Ok, bye for now.
Here's stuff that has happened/is happening:
The Caterpalooza show went really well. I was blind, and singing my atheism songs in front of my highly religious family was a little awkward, but I felt really good about the whole thing.
The World of Darkness game that has been "happening" since fucking November is actually, like, happening! The addition of Dave and Julie tonight makes 7 players who all have really interesting characters. I'm excited about this!
$D money and I are kicking around an idea for an acoustic Pink Floyd show this winter. He's going to play banjo. It'll be sick. Stay tuned.
At the Dowd's housewarming/Rikku's birthday party last night, I decided that for my birthday in September, I'm going to throw a funeral for myself. This could potentially be really fun. And sad. And everything else.
Last week Bryan and I went to a poetry open mic night, and saw The Book Not Yet Written. I've been taking a new interest in poetry since.
Also, new song idea a few days ago. It's about fucking time I write a happy song, and this one will be about my awesome friends.
Ok, bye for now.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Preparing
Just a few more days until I'm playing at the Caterpalooza music festival!
In other words, a few more days to learn a few more songs to decrease stalling between songs!
In other words, a few more days to learn a few more songs to decrease stalling between songs!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
It could work...
Woke up with an interesting idea for a social experiment/performance art thing. Picture me, in a park or on a street corner, with the Blue Hotness, next to a sign that reads "WILL ROCK FOR PUSSY".
Friday, July 2, 2010
Success and other fun stuff
So I played the new stab oriented song, now officially entitled "Use A Real One", along with the still untitled atheism song (title ideas, anyone?) at open mic night tonight. A few highlights:
- An old lady stepped in front of me right as Jen announced sign up time. I had to wait a good 4 or 5 seconds to rush over to the sign up table. As a result, I only barely made it on the list.
- Throughout the night, multiple people were happy to hear that I was in fact playing tonight. While I hope this has something to do with the quality of my songs, I think it's more indicative of me becoming part of a scene, which is neat.
- Jen commented on how comfortable I've become on stage, which is awesome because I was not at all comfortable. By the time I was on the crowd had gotten really small, which makes me feel on the spot and rushed.
- Did not fuck up the new song as badly as I thought I would; or more accurately, I fucked up in ways different than I expected, and that I'm more ok with.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Reunited, and it feels so good
While practicing my already written songs, which itself is kind of a big deal for me, I decided to play Negative Attention, a song I've been ignoring for a while. Compared to my other songs, that one always seemed like an amaturish attempt, but I think I like it again now. One more song to play at the Caterpalooza show, if nothing else!
Fixation/real knife song take 3: MUSIC!
Nothing I can really type here (at least not in an interesting way), but I've finally gotten the Blue Hottness involved with this one, and we've worked out some chords and a melody. It's shakey, but we'll get there.
And hey, guess what? You know how good guitar players move the fingers on the left hand a lot? Like more than just at the chord changes? There will be some of that in this song!
And hey, guess what? You know how good guitar players move the fingers on the left hand a lot? Like more than just at the chord changes? There will be some of that in this song!
Fixation/real knife song take 2: second draft
Slight revisions, some additions, and verse/chorus/bridge structure. I think it may need a bit more work, but I like where it's going. Also, some title ideas: Use A Real One, Just Do It Already, Release Me.
I know you're not obligated
Even so I feel entitled
I want to see you
But I don't want to see you
I want to tell you nothing has changed
But I know that nothing has changed
I have no right to pissed
But this pain deserves a response
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say that you love me while you listen to my death rattle
They say time heals all wounds
But this one is festering
I want to move on
But I can't get over it
I want to tell you how bad I feel
But I don't want to make you feel bad
I've no desire to hurt you
Though I can't deny the appeal
If you're gonna hurt me, do it for real
Finish what you started
Take responsibility
For what you're doing to me
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Hold me in your arms as I bleed out
A stab in the back as you flaunt your love life
Slitting my throat with your giddiness
Fuck this, it's your loss!
Who am I kidding?
You seem fine and I hate you for it
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say that you love me while you listen to my death rattle
I know you're not obligated
Even so I feel entitled
I want to see you
But I don't want to see you
I want to tell you nothing has changed
But I know that nothing has changed
I have no right to pissed
But this pain deserves a response
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say that you love me while you listen to my death rattle
They say time heals all wounds
But this one is festering
I want to move on
But I can't get over it
I want to tell you how bad I feel
But I don't want to make you feel bad
I've no desire to hurt you
Though I can't deny the appeal
If you're gonna hurt me, do it for real
Finish what you started
Take responsibility
For what you're doing to me
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Hold me in your arms as I bleed out
A stab in the back as you flaunt your love life
Slitting my throat with your giddiness
Fuck this, it's your loss!
Who am I kidding?
You seem fine and I hate you for it
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say that you love me while you listen to my death rattle
Friday, June 25, 2010
fixation/real knife song take 1: the brainstorm
I know you're not obligated
Even so I feel entitled
I want to see you
But I don't want to see you
I want to tell you nothing has changed
But I know that nothing has changed
I have no right to pissed
But this pain deserves a response
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say you love me while you hear my death rattle
They say time heals all wounds
But this one is festering
I want to move on
But I can't get over it
I want to tell you how bad I feel
But I don't want to make you feel bad
I've no desire to hurt you
Though I can't deny the appeal
A stab in the back as you flaunt your love life
Slitting my throat with your giddiness
Fuck this, it's your loss!
Who am I kidding?
You seem fine and I hate you for it
Even so I feel entitled
I want to see you
But I don't want to see you
I want to tell you nothing has changed
But I know that nothing has changed
I have no right to pissed
But this pain deserves a response
If you're gonna stab me, use a real knife
That would be more loving
Tell me how much you care as you twist the handle
Say you love me while you hear my death rattle
They say time heals all wounds
But this one is festering
I want to move on
But I can't get over it
I want to tell you how bad I feel
But I don't want to make you feel bad
I've no desire to hurt you
Though I can't deny the appeal
A stab in the back as you flaunt your love life
Slitting my throat with your giddiness
Fuck this, it's your loss!
Who am I kidding?
You seem fine and I hate you for it
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Incomplete songs
Here are songs that are works in progress, and one that's finished but I never perform due to an inability to sing in harmony, a co-writer too busy with his own music career to perform with me, and fear of being sued. A lot of this is probably shit, but I'm posting it anyway.
The Doughboys Are Talking Again
(Written with Kyle Rothchild, inspired by Johnny the Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez)
Her blood drips from my hands
Onto the cold hardwood floor
Paint it on the drying wall
Tomorrow it will demand some more
Dead bodies as far as the eye can see
I'm really starting to think something's wrong with me
And the Doughboys are talking again...
Dear DIE-ary, I don't understand
How I keep getting away with it all
Maybe I should visit the stars
End all this torment with just a phone call
Nailbunny, help me out in this time of need
Help me cope with a world of ignorance and greed
And the Doughboys are talking again...
Am I a slave, or can I kill by choice?
A cosmic flusher, or purely insane?
I still don't understand myself
Although I've been to heaven and to hell and back again
Gotta leave all this misery behind
Go next door and give Squee one last goodbye
Are the Doughboys finally dead?
Tao
In my quest to be like an uncarved block of wood
Sometimes I fail, sometimes I do well
I would do well to learn to enjoy failure
As the river flows to the ocean
So path is forged to the type of
Understanding I seek
I may be meek, but I know I will inherit nothing
There is no right, there's no wrong, there just is
The Way is nameless and shapeless
Untitled Atheism Song
The night sky is so beutifull
And the best part is it's natural
When the birds fly by you don't question why
You just shrug and say "intelligent design"
But you're missing out on everything
Birds don't need a god to sing
We celebrate the seasons
And the movements of the planet Earth
But it's not enough for the faithful
They always give their joy to somebody else
But they're missing out on everything
We don't need gods to sing
Ki-Ki
(I' ve actually performed this one once but was very unhappy with the result, and I can't remember how to play it now)
You're name's not Ki-Ki, but I'll use it anyway
Not that there's anything wrong with your real name
But I think "Ki-Ki's" pretty, just like you
I get all tense when you walk by
You same my name, I wanna die
I'd like to ask you out
But when I try, the words get lost
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
You may have noticed, but I like your company
If you like mine it would mean a lot to me
Words escape me whenever I'm with you
I'd like to take you to a show and dinner
But you'll never know
I'd like to ask you out
But when I try the words get lost
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
Maybe if you get me drunk I'll loosen up
And maybe if I get you drunk it'll matter
Maybe it's not meant to be (and you can tell me what that means)
Maybe I should be a man and try
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
Sailboat
Across the ocean we can float
In a fancy sailboat
On the water, boyancy
With my boat I'm boy-on-sea
No cars, no lights, just you and I
No cops, no rules for us to live by
We're just staring at the night sky
Counting stars as life passes by
As life passes by I'd like to get away
Leave these bare walls behind
As youth fades away I'd like to forget
Leave my whole world wet and windy
Trim the sails and have a drink
Lots of time to stop and think
Complications? Don't recall
You and me is all, is all
A character study of a necrophiliac
I see her lying there
Ivory skin and golden hair
The smell of formaldehyde fills the air
I brush my thumb across her lips
So cold and unresponsive
Like a statue, like a monument
To thinks that used to be
Don’t judge my love!
Don’t you understand
The search for the timeless
In the heart of a man?
It’s the perfect relationship
The perfect relationship
She doesn’t age, she doesn’t judge
She’ll never change, she’ll never budge
As long as she’s well preserved she’s mine
No fights or jealousy
Deceit or disloyalty
And I’ll never
Have to meet her
Friends and family
Don’t judge my love!
Don’t you understand
The search for the timeless
In the heart of a man?
It’s the perfect relationship
The perfect relationship
The Rodeo of Living (Incomplete)
I see time creeping up on me
I've been waiting for you
All my days drifting away
And what am I trying to prove
I'm feeling old but looking young
Forever apart from you
I can live forever, I don't want to
Happiness eludes me, I don't know which way to turn
On the path of life before me, I must seek and I must learn
But I can use a good companion, someone by my side
To help me keep my balance on this steer that I must ride called life
I never know how the wind will change
I die more everyday
It's like a plauge wasting away
This frail and brittle frame
It never ends, this rodeo
Of living imcomplete
I can ride forever, I don't want to
It kicks and bucks with all the vigor
That you used to pull your hand from mine
Tossed about just like a ragdoll
All I ever asked from you was time
We Are Explorers
We're on a journey through the cosmos
Our vessel is big and round and blue
We are explorers; the greatest thing about us
We're on a path of discovery
A quest with no destination
We are explorers basking in the uknown
It's true, we are very small
And the universe is vast
There's a lot that we don't know
Which is a lot that we can learn
I don't need to have all the answers
I don't mind the mystery
The quest for truth is more about the journey
Than the destination
The Arbiter
Everybody wants to have all the things their told they cannot
Everybody wants to be all the things their told they should not
Nobody could recognize who you are from what you're saying
Nobody would even try, don't you know the cost of playing?
You and me, we're a perfect match
You and I couldn't be more wrong
I'll be the one to control how you feel
I'll be the arbiter of what is real
You can pretend to decide what you know
It makes no difference, enjoy the show
Have your cake and eat it too, might as well be pushing daiseys
Maybe you forgot the score, count yourself among the crazies
Nobody would think to blame after your traumatic breakup
Nobody would to shame, tell us all about the shakeup
You and me 'till the end of days
You and I couldn't be more wrong
The Doughboys Are Talking Again
(Written with Kyle Rothchild, inspired by Johnny the Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez)
Her blood drips from my hands
Onto the cold hardwood floor
Paint it on the drying wall
Tomorrow it will demand some more
Dead bodies as far as the eye can see
I'm really starting to think something's wrong with me
And the Doughboys are talking again...
Dear DIE-ary, I don't understand
How I keep getting away with it all
Maybe I should visit the stars
End all this torment with just a phone call
Nailbunny, help me out in this time of need
Help me cope with a world of ignorance and greed
And the Doughboys are talking again...
Am I a slave, or can I kill by choice?
A cosmic flusher, or purely insane?
I still don't understand myself
Although I've been to heaven and to hell and back again
Gotta leave all this misery behind
Go next door and give Squee one last goodbye
Are the Doughboys finally dead?
Tao
In my quest to be like an uncarved block of wood
Sometimes I fail, sometimes I do well
I would do well to learn to enjoy failure
As the river flows to the ocean
So path is forged to the type of
Understanding I seek
I may be meek, but I know I will inherit nothing
There is no right, there's no wrong, there just is
The Way is nameless and shapeless
Untitled Atheism Song
The night sky is so beutifull
And the best part is it's natural
When the birds fly by you don't question why
You just shrug and say "intelligent design"
But you're missing out on everything
Birds don't need a god to sing
We celebrate the seasons
And the movements of the planet Earth
But it's not enough for the faithful
They always give their joy to somebody else
But they're missing out on everything
We don't need gods to sing
Ki-Ki
(I' ve actually performed this one once but was very unhappy with the result, and I can't remember how to play it now)
You're name's not Ki-Ki, but I'll use it anyway
Not that there's anything wrong with your real name
But I think "Ki-Ki's" pretty, just like you
I get all tense when you walk by
You same my name, I wanna die
I'd like to ask you out
But when I try, the words get lost
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
You may have noticed, but I like your company
If you like mine it would mean a lot to me
Words escape me whenever I'm with you
I'd like to take you to a show and dinner
But you'll never know
I'd like to ask you out
But when I try the words get lost
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
Maybe if you get me drunk I'll loosen up
And maybe if I get you drunk it'll matter
Maybe it's not meant to be (and you can tell me what that means)
Maybe I should be a man and try
I'd like to call you Ki-Ki, don't know why
I'd like to make you happy if you'd only let me try
You know I'm not too good at this
Terms of endearment and all that shit
But if you don't like Ki-Ki then at least let me call you mine
Sailboat
Across the ocean we can float
In a fancy sailboat
On the water, boyancy
With my boat I'm boy-on-sea
No cars, no lights, just you and I
No cops, no rules for us to live by
We're just staring at the night sky
Counting stars as life passes by
As life passes by I'd like to get away
Leave these bare walls behind
As youth fades away I'd like to forget
Leave my whole world wet and windy
Trim the sails and have a drink
Lots of time to stop and think
Complications? Don't recall
You and me is all, is all
A character study of a necrophiliac
I see her lying there
Ivory skin and golden hair
The smell of formaldehyde fills the air
I brush my thumb across her lips
So cold and unresponsive
Like a statue, like a monument
To thinks that used to be
Don’t judge my love!
Don’t you understand
The search for the timeless
In the heart of a man?
It’s the perfect relationship
The perfect relationship
She doesn’t age, she doesn’t judge
She’ll never change, she’ll never budge
As long as she’s well preserved she’s mine
No fights or jealousy
Deceit or disloyalty
And I’ll never
Have to meet her
Friends and family
Don’t judge my love!
Don’t you understand
The search for the timeless
In the heart of a man?
It’s the perfect relationship
The perfect relationship
The Rodeo of Living (Incomplete)
I see time creeping up on me
I've been waiting for you
All my days drifting away
And what am I trying to prove
I'm feeling old but looking young
Forever apart from you
I can live forever, I don't want to
Happiness eludes me, I don't know which way to turn
On the path of life before me, I must seek and I must learn
But I can use a good companion, someone by my side
To help me keep my balance on this steer that I must ride called life
I never know how the wind will change
I die more everyday
It's like a plauge wasting away
This frail and brittle frame
It never ends, this rodeo
Of living imcomplete
I can ride forever, I don't want to
It kicks and bucks with all the vigor
That you used to pull your hand from mine
Tossed about just like a ragdoll
All I ever asked from you was time
We Are Explorers
We're on a journey through the cosmos
Our vessel is big and round and blue
We are explorers; the greatest thing about us
We're on a path of discovery
A quest with no destination
We are explorers basking in the uknown
It's true, we are very small
And the universe is vast
There's a lot that we don't know
Which is a lot that we can learn
I don't need to have all the answers
I don't mind the mystery
The quest for truth is more about the journey
Than the destination
The Arbiter
Everybody wants to have all the things their told they cannot
Everybody wants to be all the things their told they should not
Nobody could recognize who you are from what you're saying
Nobody would even try, don't you know the cost of playing?
You and me, we're a perfect match
You and I couldn't be more wrong
I'll be the one to control how you feel
I'll be the arbiter of what is real
You can pretend to decide what you know
It makes no difference, enjoy the show
Have your cake and eat it too, might as well be pushing daiseys
Maybe you forgot the score, count yourself among the crazies
Nobody would think to blame after your traumatic breakup
Nobody would to shame, tell us all about the shakeup
You and me 'till the end of days
You and I couldn't be more wrong
Lyrics to finished songs
For those interested, I thought I'd post the lyrics to my songs. I've put most of these up before in Myspace blog entries when Myspace was still cool, but they were kind of scattered around, so here, all in one place and in no particular oder, are the songs that I've been performing.
This Song Is Not Yet Titled
Why do you enthrall me the way you do?
Why are you so prevalent in my dreams?
Why can't you be older? Why can't you be closer?
And why can't you be more available?
My head tells me you and I won't work
But my heart thinks that we'd be perfect for each other
And it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
Do you ever wonder what might have been
Had I been more persistent in the past?
If we got together way back when
How long do you think it would have lasted?
Probably not too long
But it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
I'm not sure what to do now - You're so lovely
You're so hard to resist, but you're so resistable
And I'm so easily worked up; I'm such a sucker
I'm so impressionable. It's so hard to have my own ideas about love
Someone else said I've got it in for you, and now I've got it in for you
Someone else said I've got it in for you, and now I've got it in for you
But it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
A Colossal Wast Of My Time
Look at me: a busy little worker bee
Come and see me try to survive in the Hive
The queen and the drones fuck all day
I'm down on the ground floor slaving away
Trying to produce so they will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Look at me: a productive little worker bee
Come and see me try to press on; carry on
I struggle to stay awake
Tired and hungry, my will never breaks
I try to do well so I will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Somewhere down the road I gave in
And I lost sight of who I am
I prance around town
Wearing my black and yellow uniform
I forgot the word resistance
And purged myself of my persistant
Individuality
Oh I am a company man
And I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Look at me: a happy little worker bee
Come and see me smile and succeed; good little bee
I smile with each small praise
It's ok, I don't need a raise
I'll so as I'm told so I will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Cowerdice
I don't know
If I could be
What you'd want me to be
If you and I were we
And that's why I'm afraid
To tell you the way
That I feel about you
It's something that I do
You can find me underneath my rock
You can find me head under the sand
I don't know
Why I can't speak to you
Honestly
When it means so much to me
I'm a child inside
It's easier to hide
Than to do something good
That I know I should
You can find me underneath my rock
You can find me head under the sand
You can't find me
Integrity or Masochism: You Decide
As she walks out the door
I don't bother asking
If it's something I said, I know what I said
You see I'm not a liar
She asked me something I didn't want her to know
I should have said yes, but instead I said know
'Cause it's the truth
And know I'm alone again
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
But you don't put out
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
We all say we want the truth
But so few of us mean it
We like our fantasies, we find them comforting
We're a society of liars
So when you tell me I should speak my mind
I know that we don't have much time
Because I do
And then I'm alone again
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
But you don't put out
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
So what's the point of having integrity
If I only end up in tears?
It feels a lot more like masochism
Looking back on all the years
And how am I to decide
Between being happy and being true to myself?
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
For all the good it's done
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
Negative Attention
Dried by the time I get home
Tired and ready for bed
27 now, it's been so long
At least this time I was alone
Yet I write this with intent
Of sharing with any who'll hear
Exposing this embarrasment
To a certainly judgmental crowd
Negative attention is better than none at all
Pity me, mock me, I don't care
As long as you listen to me
Got to the fridge, see the kitchen knife
And entertain horrible thoughts
And the only thing stopping me
Is the high price of health care
But I want you to notice me
And I really don't care how it's done
Scorn or smiles or tears shed
As long as for me I'll be fine
Negative attention is better than none at all
Pity me, mock me, I don't care
As long as you listen to me
None of the Above
Why should I believe a word you say
When your pitch is saying I've gone astray
And trying to scare me with consequences
Trying to convince me that your way is the only way
You ask me what if I'm wrong
Determined that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
But it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
I ask for proof; you offer faith
And tell me it's the kind no one can shake
It's easy to be certain when you don't need verification
But your way ain't the only way
You ask me what if I'm wrong
Determined that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
But it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
I'm not trying to change your mind
Why must you try to change mine
Why can't we go our separate ways
Why must you ask me what if I'm wrong
So certain that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
When it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
Denial
(Written with Kyle Rothchild and a bottle of rum)
I've taken off my skin
Turned into someone else
Someone I've never been
I'm tracing back my steps
Trying to find why
And where did I go wrong
You said "Weren't you the one who re-arranged yourself?"
And I said "Hey man, it must have been someone else."
You said "Oh, I'm sorry. I swear, I've seen your face before."
And I said "Hey man, at least you know who you are."
I've taken back myself
Turned into someone old
So old I've been before
I'm going back again
For the same reason
What was that again?
When was that again?
I said "Weren't you the one who re-arranged yourself?"
And you said "Hey man, it must have been someone else."
I said "Oh, I'm sorry. I swear, I've seen your face before."
And you said "Hey man, at least you know who you are."
This Song Is Not Yet Titled
Why do you enthrall me the way you do?
Why are you so prevalent in my dreams?
Why can't you be older? Why can't you be closer?
And why can't you be more available?
My head tells me you and I won't work
But my heart thinks that we'd be perfect for each other
And it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
Do you ever wonder what might have been
Had I been more persistent in the past?
If we got together way back when
How long do you think it would have lasted?
Probably not too long
But it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
I'm not sure what to do now - You're so lovely
You're so hard to resist, but you're so resistable
And I'm so easily worked up; I'm such a sucker
I'm so impressionable. It's so hard to have my own ideas about love
Someone else said I've got it in for you, and now I've got it in for you
Someone else said I've got it in for you, and now I've got it in for you
But it's not like we're facing eternity
We wouldn't have to be forever
But maybe for a little while
We could have some good times
A Colossal Wast Of My Time
Look at me: a busy little worker bee
Come and see me try to survive in the Hive
The queen and the drones fuck all day
I'm down on the ground floor slaving away
Trying to produce so they will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Look at me: a productive little worker bee
Come and see me try to press on; carry on
I struggle to stay awake
Tired and hungry, my will never breaks
I try to do well so I will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Somewhere down the road I gave in
And I lost sight of who I am
I prance around town
Wearing my black and yellow uniform
I forgot the word resistance
And purged myself of my persistant
Individuality
Oh I am a company man
And I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Look at me: a happy little worker bee
Come and see me smile and succeed; good little bee
I smile with each small praise
It's ok, I don't need a raise
I'll so as I'm told so I will never be hungry or homeless
I don't mind
No I don't mind
Being dead inside
Cowerdice
I don't know
If I could be
What you'd want me to be
If you and I were we
And that's why I'm afraid
To tell you the way
That I feel about you
It's something that I do
You can find me underneath my rock
You can find me head under the sand
I don't know
Why I can't speak to you
Honestly
When it means so much to me
I'm a child inside
It's easier to hide
Than to do something good
That I know I should
You can find me underneath my rock
You can find me head under the sand
You can't find me
Integrity or Masochism: You Decide
As she walks out the door
I don't bother asking
If it's something I said, I know what I said
You see I'm not a liar
She asked me something I didn't want her to know
I should have said yes, but instead I said know
'Cause it's the truth
And know I'm alone again
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
But you don't put out
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
We all say we want the truth
But so few of us mean it
We like our fantasies, we find them comforting
We're a society of liars
So when you tell me I should speak my mind
I know that we don't have much time
Because I do
And then I'm alone again
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
But you don't put out
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
So what's the point of having integrity
If I only end up in tears?
It feels a lot more like masochism
Looking back on all the years
And how am I to decide
Between being happy and being true to myself?
So hit me again Lady Honesty
Mistress may I have another?
You're my oldest friend and my only lover
For all the good it's done
I give, and you take,
Everything I need
Oh, why do I have such a thing for Honesty?
Negative Attention
Dried by the time I get home
Tired and ready for bed
27 now, it's been so long
At least this time I was alone
Yet I write this with intent
Of sharing with any who'll hear
Exposing this embarrasment
To a certainly judgmental crowd
Negative attention is better than none at all
Pity me, mock me, I don't care
As long as you listen to me
Got to the fridge, see the kitchen knife
And entertain horrible thoughts
And the only thing stopping me
Is the high price of health care
But I want you to notice me
And I really don't care how it's done
Scorn or smiles or tears shed
As long as for me I'll be fine
Negative attention is better than none at all
Pity me, mock me, I don't care
As long as you listen to me
None of the Above
Why should I believe a word you say
When your pitch is saying I've gone astray
And trying to scare me with consequences
Trying to convince me that your way is the only way
You ask me what if I'm wrong
Determined that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
But it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
I ask for proof; you offer faith
And tell me it's the kind no one can shake
It's easy to be certain when you don't need verification
But your way ain't the only way
You ask me what if I'm wrong
Determined that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
But it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
I'm not trying to change your mind
Why must you try to change mine
Why can't we go our separate ways
Why must you ask me what if I'm wrong
So certain that you're right
And frame it as dichotomy
When it's not black and white
There's lots of choices out there
I'll just take my chances with none of the above
Denial
(Written with Kyle Rothchild and a bottle of rum)
I've taken off my skin
Turned into someone else
Someone I've never been
I'm tracing back my steps
Trying to find why
And where did I go wrong
You said "Weren't you the one who re-arranged yourself?"
And I said "Hey man, it must have been someone else."
You said "Oh, I'm sorry. I swear, I've seen your face before."
And I said "Hey man, at least you know who you are."
I've taken back myself
Turned into someone old
So old I've been before
I'm going back again
For the same reason
What was that again?
When was that again?
I said "Weren't you the one who re-arranged yourself?"
And you said "Hey man, it must have been someone else."
I said "Oh, I'm sorry. I swear, I've seen your face before."
And you said "Hey man, at least you know who you are."
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Before music was comics
I didn't blog last night but I should have. I was doodling at work and got it into my wacky head that I should start drawing again. I used to draw quite a bit with dreams of being a cartoonist. I had a few ideas for some comic strips a while back, but got discouraged because, although some people have told me I draw well, I don't draw as well as I'd like to. I was thinking about it yesterday, and got the idea of drawing a comic strip that has an all robot cast of characters. Why? Because robots are not as hard to draw as people. Robots aren't real, so they can look like whatever you want. If your hands look funky (and my hands always look funky), just say that robots have funky hands! So the idea is a comic strip with robots doing human things; like a strip written for human characters, but the characters are all robots. I would call it Robots Are Easy.
While we're talking comics, a few years ago I actually produced a few strips for a project I call Oddities. I posted them on Myspace (this was back when Myspace was the popular hang out) and asked for feedback. I got none, so lost the motivation to continue. The thing is, I really enjoyed making them, and think I came up with something that has some potential for an audience with an appreciation for the bizarre. I kind of want to start it up again. While you're reading this, perhaps you could click on the link and let me know what you think.
While we're talking comics, a few years ago I actually produced a few strips for a project I call Oddities. I posted them on Myspace (this was back when Myspace was the popular hang out) and asked for feedback. I got none, so lost the motivation to continue. The thing is, I really enjoyed making them, and think I came up with something that has some potential for an audience with an appreciation for the bizarre. I kind of want to start it up again. While you're reading this, perhaps you could click on the link and let me know what you think.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Cracked
One of my favorite websites is cracked.com, which is the current remains of old time Mad magazine rip off Cracked. Most of their articles are in a list format (for example, The 5 Most Famous Musicians Who Are Thieving Bastards) and, more relevant to this blog, most of their content is viewer submitted. Anyone can submit an article and if it gets published, they pay you. I've been wanting to write something for Cracked for awhile, but have had some difficulties getting ideas. I was thinking about it today. I thought of X celebrities who don't deserve all the shit they get, which would include William Shatner and Jerry Seinfeld, and X reasons writing a Cracked.com article is really hard, because I like meta humor.
TV show idea
If Star Trek was a sitcom!
Imagine a Star Trek parody shot as a traditional, live audience, 3 camera sitcom. See, I'm a trekkie, and when you've watched as much Trek as I have, you start to see it's flaws, probably more so than people who don't like the show, and find a lot of fun in making fun of it. Here's some ideas:
Imagine a Star Trek parody shot as a traditional, live audience, 3 camera sitcom. See, I'm a trekkie, and when you've watched as much Trek as I have, you start to see it's flaws, probably more so than people who don't like the show, and find a lot of fun in making fun of it. Here's some ideas:
- All of the techno babble would be words like "doohicky" and "whatchamacallit".
- In one episode, they encounter a race of aliens who all have extremely large breast, regardless of sex. The traditional greeting is motor boating each other. They are baffled by the flat chested males (pointing out the exception of the one fat guy), and assume that a low ranking crew member is the Captain because of how well endowed she is.
- The redshirts all have the same name, Johnson, and are all played by the same one or two actors. In one scene, after the landing party returns to the ship, one person reports that Johnson died a violent horrific death, just as another redshirt (same actor) walks by, who starts to freak out. ("What? Johnson's dead?" "I'm afraid so, Johnson." "Permission to inform the other Johnsons, sir." "Yeah, whatever.")
- In contrast with the way it's done in Star Trek, where everything is randomly pushing buttons and using voice commands, these guys actually have to do things to make the ship work. To go to light speed they have to pull levers and turn cranks. The ship's engineer is a stereotype of scum bag mechanics; he does everything half assed and the ship runs poorly.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Something new
Last night, to to make sure everyone got a chance to perform, we all agreed to do only two songs, so I cut out the Floyd cover.
The really memorable thing for me about last night, however, is that I was not nervous. Like, at all. I was downright comfortable. I even got some laughs with a joke I told between the songs. I don't think I've been as comfortable on stage before. So, that's progress, right?
The really memorable thing for me about last night, however, is that I was not nervous. Like, at all. I was downright comfortable. I even got some laughs with a joke I told between the songs. I don't think I've been as comfortable on stage before. So, that's progress, right?
Friday, May 7, 2010
Possible set list
Assuming I can remember the lyrics, I think tonight I'll play Let There Be More Light by Pink Floyd. Then I'll play two originals, the honesty song (Integrity or Masochhism: You Decide) and the worker bee song (A Colossal Waste Of My Time). Not in that order though: honesty, the Floyd, the worker bee.
Open Mic Night
The plan last night was to practice for Open Mic Night, which is tonight.
Instead I watched Youtube videos until way too late and went to bed.
So I'll be playing easy songs tonight.
And, apparently, I'm equating sentences with paragraphs.
Instead I watched Youtube videos until way too late and went to bed.
So I'll be playing easy songs tonight.
And, apparently, I'm equating sentences with paragraphs.
Monday, May 3, 2010
My face is cold.
Hey, y'know what? I'm a handsome dude!Anyway, here's what's going on in the department of me doing stuff:
I thought I was going to have jury duty tomorrow, but it got canceled, meaning I might have time to do stuff this week.
The World of Darkness chronicle I've been working on intermittently for several months is finally approaching the point where I can declare it ready to go. Two of the people who said they wanted to play before are now saying that they can't really commit to it. That wouldn't be a big deal, but they were the two girls, so now we may be looking at a sausage fest.
Though I'm a little unpracticed, I plan on playing at the next open mic night. I sat the last one out. The last song I wrote, "Integrity or Masochism: You Decide" has only been performed once, so I'm kind of stoked about that.
Today I was thinking about what I should actually do with this blog. See, I set it up in a rushed, impulsed, half-assed sort of way. Blogger let's you run multiple blogs under the same account, so I was thinking of setting up a blog for each project/interest and using this one as sort of a general discussion. Thoughts, anyone?
Ok, that's all for now.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
I am the Anti-Samson
On top of my normal difficulty in getting motivated to do stuff, I have been in a particular funk since November of '09. It all started with the second of two shows I've played so far. I was unprepared and didn't think to write a set list. I forgot a bunch of my songs and only played for about 15 minutes. As upsetting as that was, I later realized that I only had forgotten a few, meaning I didn't actually have very many songs. The night felt like an abysmal failure. I almost quit the whole music thing then and there, and didn't touch my guitar (the Blue Hotness, in case you didn't know) for several weeks. Then of course there was winter and the holidays, which are never helpful in the area of getting shit done. About a week before Thanksgiving I started working on a role-playing campaign, but didn't really get much done until months later. Early December I mustered up the cajones to ask out this girl I like which seemed like a really positive thing, until she said no.
Things started to get better after that, but not much. I wrote a new song and started working on my game again, but in March the combination of various medical concerns compacted by my failed attempt to quit smoking smooshed what progress had been made.
During all of this, I've let my beard get really long and shaggy. It seemed like a fun idea, and people seem to like it. But as it gets longer it seems to get harder for me to get my ass in gear. Now, I'm not superstitious, and I know that correlation is not causation, but the damn thing is starting to get on my nerves anyway. So maybe loosing the beard, and cutting my hair while I'm at it, could my own little ritual to put myself in a "doing stuff" mentality. I could be like the Anti-Samson; my power comes from my lack of hair. It's definitely time to get rid of this thing growing on my face.
Y'know, once I get around to it.
Things started to get better after that, but not much. I wrote a new song and started working on my game again, but in March the combination of various medical concerns compacted by my failed attempt to quit smoking smooshed what progress had been made.
During all of this, I've let my beard get really long and shaggy. It seemed like a fun idea, and people seem to like it. But as it gets longer it seems to get harder for me to get my ass in gear. Now, I'm not superstitious, and I know that correlation is not causation, but the damn thing is starting to get on my nerves anyway. So maybe loosing the beard, and cutting my hair while I'm at it, could my own little ritual to put myself in a "doing stuff" mentality. I could be like the Anti-Samson; my power comes from my lack of hair. It's definitely time to get rid of this thing growing on my face.
Y'know, once I get around to it.
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