d

d

making it work

if I'm going to make this dream work, I'm going to have to spend less
money.

a

a

if these words really don't matter

then why can't I stop saying them?

how do you write a song about wanting to be left alone?

how would it feel to play a song like that for a crowd?

you don't know me, I don't know you

but the bits and pieces we had did something to me,

and now I can't stop chasing that feeling.

being an artist is like having a disease that makes me constantly feel
like I'm experiencing something really new and important that I can't
express.

and I know this is stupid, I know this is wrong

but I remember one time I heard this other song

and I swore for a second he was talking to me

but that uncanny feeling comes from me

and the urge to share it comes from me too

and it's flawed and it's wrong but I'll share it with you.

I can't capture that moment cause it's not a thing

and although you may think a feeling can be

bottled and packaged and interpreted like

you were there, but you were never there, and neither am I anymore

but I try, and here we are.

I'm trying.

if these words don't really matter,

why can't I stop saying them?

Chemotherapy increases the odds of getting hiccups.

...

G

G

The mating call was loud and lonely.

Songs about yearning for love hit us the hardest when we are yearning
for love. The songs do not create the lonesome, piercing, beautiful
longing feeling. The time spent alone immedietly after finding out the
one you love doesn't love you back creates that feeling. And maybe
once you have experienced that very real feeling, it never really goes
away. Maybe it hides inside you. But that song, that fucking beautiful
song, that lonesome tragic song grabs you, gives you a shake, and
reminds you of that time you felt something real.

And maybe the next time I hear a mating call, I'll remember what an
amazing joy it is to be able to feel that lonesome.

I want to do things.

I cant think about you.

I cant get trapped in there.

I dont want my eyes to be distracted.

I dont want my hands to wander.

I want to walk the long and loney path.

I want to step and sing and feel without release.

Resolutions

Patience, Humility

Consider looks less

No, or less, caffiene.

Penetrate society.

You say you want it, that it really matters. that you really want it. That you yearn for it. That deep down underneath it all it is all that really matters to you, and if you could only find it, you would abandon everything for it.

Im sure it feels nice to SAY that, but what would you do to find it? Would you spend your time? would you walk five miles in the rain? Would you show a lover paitence, would you wake up every morning and commit yourself no matter how that praticular day's mood suits you or your lover?

I know you feel like you could wake up every morning and show your love every day, but what about the days when the infatuation fades? Underneath your fluttering breath, your attraction, is there something stronger beneath?

V

V
Just

Gimme a reason

To even try

Just

Tell me you need me, girl

Just

Tell me you need me, girl.

I'm running through the darkness

And these words,

They ain't right

I'm runnin out of metaphors to impress you with, baby

But I'm here, tryin.

Q

Q

Teenage love.

I want to have a passionate romance with every cute girl I meet.

I'm so glad I'm not actually going to do that...

O

O

It's ok to fall into the moment, no matter how much I might wish that
it was more pure.

Sent from my iPod

Y

Y

Why doesn't that wall interest me?

It's not reading my mind.

The expressions on peoples faces interest me.

They interest me because they tell stories.

I like stories very much.

Sent from my iPod

Q

Q

Wild ducks flying backwards

Sent from my iPod

hello world, im feeling very angry right now.

what, world, is the point of sharing this with you?

talking about it, sending it out to you, world, what does that do?

im sure you like it when I share nice things with you,

but I have not nice things too, and they jump

out of my chest,

through my uh-sof-uh-gus

and right past my teeth into you, world.

they are nasty, ugly, selfish, scared, and loud things.

and when they come out, how does that make you feel, world?

im sure the nice things are ok,

the nice things dont try and pull on your arm.

the not nice things, the anger, the fear, the outrage that I feel sometimes, world,

that must pull you, doesnt it?

that must grab your shoulder and spin you around,

must give your neck a startling tug as you are HIT?

and when I do this to you, and you did not give me permission to do this,

how can I expect anything less than resentment from you?

all this leads me to think that the best thing to do is to let the fire in my chest

GROWL and YELL and SCREAM and POUND and DEMAND

all by itself inside of me.

The tricky part is, I think I dont know how to do that right.

I am a coward. I see the fire in me, and I cannot face it alone.

It grabs my throat and fills it with a SCREAM! a big selfish SCREAM!

ROOOAAARR!

And the coward in me holds that scream back, just barely.

it tells my tounge to cover my throat up, to hold it still.

it forces air down the strained scream in my throat,

hoping enough air will calm it down.

it tries to take the thing in my head that creates the scream,

and take it somewhere else.

The coward in me cannot do this.

The coward in me fails to control the fire.

The fire would have me in the streets, screaming until I pass out.

So the coward in me thinks of a new strategy.

The coward in me looks at the bursting dam, and says

Hey, if I cant stop this feeling from coming out, maybe I can give it somewhere for it to burst into.


So here I am. Writing a stupid fucking note on a stupid fucking blog that gets redirected to a stupid fucking facebook page that all my stupid fucking friends and family may or may not read.

YOU GUYS ARE INNOCENT BYSTANDERS! I DONT REALLY THINK YOU GUYS ARE BAD GUYS!

I have no idea what I hope to acheive by writing this down. This is a letter with no recipient. Im not considering whoever you are, reading this. Im not picking words based on whether or not you like them. I know its strange, but Im not putting this out there for any of you. Im not responsible for what I say here, because I have absolutely no intention of holding myself responsible for it. You can watch, you can comment, you can do one or neither of those things. If you want to talk to me, call me, find me in person. I like conversations :)

but this medium is just how I deal with my own mind. my goal never was, and probably never will be, to be coherent or "nice" or fair or respectful or entertaining.

A

A

A funny thing about seeing them on stage.

The sounds mix with the way you see them, what they do with their
faces, their bodies.

They take you somewhere, but the funny thing about it is that you
can't tell where they will take you. You don't have a safe way of
knowing where the music is headed.

So you watch and just hang on, at the edge of each moment.

What is that like? How does it feel?

Sent from my iPod

K

K

I think I liked you better
When all I had of you was your music

I knew you better then.
I know you less the more time I spend

Sent from my iPod

so here is the core of my problem with SOCAN right now. i acknowledge that they are the only game in town, and that means that my argument is basically just an empty gripe.


My problem is that we are paying a levy on blank media (CD's right now, possibly hard drives/mp3 players in the future) which is explained as being a way to give royalties to bands. However, a band which is heard only on that taxed blank media, and not widely published or played on national radio, would recieve none of that money.

So, we have a tax for bands that never actually gets to the bands. That shouldnt exist. If SOCAN is limited and therefore cannot consider the internet and mp3players when paying out royalties, fine. but what gives them the right to tax the medium that they admit they cant represent in their royalties?

I

I
Everyone is sitting around grooving to tired music,

Waiting for the good times to come.

Everyone is talking to each other about things they don't really care
about

Waiting for the good times to come.

Everyone drinks just

a little more than they need to,

Waiting for the good times to come.

Sent from my iPod

P

P

This is a song I wrote. If you would like to hear it, it's available
on the Plastic Chair Explosion facebook page.

This is a story i've told before

I've lost a lot of things, lost a lot of beautiful things

This is a story you've heard before

I've lost a lot of things, lost a lot of goddamn things.

And you lend me your ear, your ear, your ear,

And you're trying to hear, to hear, to hear,

My words are hanging in the air

But they're not right, so I can't share

I tell you I've lost a lot of beautiful things,

But without my memories, how can you know what that means?

Sent from my iPod

finished his first semester at college. completely finished it. COMPLETELY FINISHED IT. oh god that feels good to say. I am free. Till jan 1st. then im back into this completely fulfilling challenge.

Dear God,

You better hope you arent real because if you are I swear to... er... YOU that Im gunna come up there and kick your ass when Im dead.

Snow and fire and walks in nature and nostalgia and romance and my memories of childhood christmas on the farm. The image of a forest covered in snow seen through the living room window strikes me.

every human being deserves to be happy. I truly believe there is nothing a human can ever do to lose this right. Independantly and personally figuring out how to become happy without adversely affecting other people's independant and personal attempts at finding happiness is the problem, of course, but please do your best to never forget that underneath that, no human can lose his or her right to happiness.

im growing up in a world slowly transforming into a transhumanist state.

where is value? what is valuable? what counts? what happens when what was valuable by the nature of its scarcity is now no longer scarce? is it still valuable?

does anyone know whether or not Im really trying? I dont think Ill ever feel like Im trying hard enough. I have eyes that see what I can do for miles and miles, but my knees are weak and Im somewhere else.

Its so heartbreaking to spend time doing a good job, when that job isnt what feels right. When what feels right is wandering and writing and listening and singing and chasing the minds of pretty women.

so im sitting in the upper level of the VIU library, and it kind of hits me all at once as I look out the window. Our friggin province is beautiful! mountains everywhere, forests, the ocean, ahh. soo good.