instead I'll just pretend like the world ended

and wonder what I would've done at the time

I find it very very easy to be true
Songs sung at karaoke tonight:

"Last Nite" by The Strokes.
"Tired Of Being Alone" by Al Green
"You Can't Take That Away From Me" (with Sophie) by Frank Sinatra and Natalie Cole
"I Walk The Line" by Johnny Cash
"Hard Day's Night" by The Beatles

All of them rocked (except maybe "I Walk The Line," which I kept coming in a half-measure early on because I'm pretty sure that's how it is in the Joaquin Phoenix version, which I kinda like better).

It was a great night- we all dressed up (and Sophie and Kate looked beautiful, which I was too boorish to mention when I saw them), and I remembered why I don't wear suits all the time, which is because they are hot are summerish nights.

If nothing else ever comes of the comedy stuff, it's certainly cured me of most forms of stagefright, and allowed me no problem with being the center of attention. If that makes me occasionally insufferable, I apologize.

heaven is a switchboard that you wanna fight
Ways in which they have spelled my name on the receipt at Panera Bread, where I often eat lunch and use the wifi:


Okay, the last one wasn't real.

Drawing to a close
The end of BEDA. What did I learn?

1. Writing about your life everyday highlights the endless banality of existence. I thought this might have been because I am underemployed at the moment, but really who wants to read entries about the same job over and over? Conclusion: I need to live a crazier life.

2. Law & Order is a good way to pass the time. Seriously, it beats CSI any day. Why, you ask? Because L&O is for people that want to think (or laugh at sensationalist, overblown plotlines ripped from recent headlines), and CSI is for people that want to spend a quarter of the episode salaciously reliving a fictional murder, over and over.

3. I will always wait until the very last minute to do anything, even if it is a meaningless and arbitrary midnight deadline to post to a blog.

4. I look cooler with long hair.

5. I begin a whole lot of sentences with interjections. Chief offenders include "Man," "Anyway," and "Also." I will try to curb this habit with more action verbs.

6. I am 10% emo and 90% pop-culture references. I think we all knew this to begin with.

See you at an undetermined chronological point in the future, which may or may not be tomorrow, internet!

memories fade like looking through a fogged mirror
Apparently the Census people called both my cell phone and my house today, about a job possibility- but they don't leave messages, and they didn't leave a number for my dad to give me. They must talk to you on the phone directly, or you will never know that this potential job ever existed.

Your government at work. Ugh. I'll call them tomorrow, and hopefully an "Abbott And Costello" like routine of "no, we have to call you" will not ensue.

Anyway, much novel movement- finally got an idea for where the end needs to go- an enemy that becomes a friend, the idea of new challenges in the future... a sequel? Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Ever since I sang karaoke on Thursday I really want to do it again. But then I get invited to multiple events on facebook this Thursday. (I was invited on facebook. The events are in the real world, not "on facebook," though that would be an interesting place to hold an event. I bet it would be like the movie Tron crossed with the Mall of America). I even have ideas of what to sing, including a hilariously emo pop song that I somehow know all the words to!

still pretty sure I said "riding mower"
Another week, another night at trivia. I need structure, badly I think: tonight I walked the wrong direction entirely to my car, remembering the spot I'd parked the previous week.

I saw a girl I'm facebook friends with at lunch, but she clearly didn't recognize me (I'm gonna say it's the hair), and I'm not big on the "does X remember my name?" lottery. A little while ago I told Benny that I invariably remember X's name while X does not remember mine, and he said that was surprising to learn.

So I thought wow, am I that different now? Am I a memorable personality that fills up a room? Maybe. But in hallways and city streets I feel small.

pendants from hanging teeth
today was a day. I woke late, went to the gym, did some writing and looked wistfully at pretty girls in Alterra. I sang songs so loud in my car driving that my throat hurts a little. I threw toys around for Finneas. I read some Calvin & Hobbes comics.

I just was, today. The kind of day that seems lacking something- it was about to rain all day, but the sky never opened up. That seemed to suit my mood, though most days actually raining would suit me better.

(no subject)
Thursday night/Friday morning I couldn't really sleep, so at some point around 4AMish I decided I'd watch a documentary on my computer: Dear Zachary: A Letter To A Son About His Father- maybe I'd fall asleep while watching it, I figured. It was just some true-crime thing, right?

Wrong. Dear Zachary was the most emotionally devastating thing I have ever subjected myself to. I've teared up in plenty of films, yeah- I'm escapist and easily manipulated, but this is the first thing that's ever just had me weeping. I'm talking, sobbing, you guys. Multiple tissues.

It's about a man whose best friend was murdered. By his pregnant girlfriend. Hearing this, the film-maker decides to cross the country and interview everyone that his friend ever touched, to show the unborn son who his father was. These interviews are rapidly edited into a 90-minute long rush of emotion.

The murderess flees to Canada and takes advantage of completely retarded extradition policies, and then there's a completely awful and unexpected turn late in the film that should in no way be spoiled for you if you ever want to see it. But it's just an amazing piece of editing and film-making. I can in no way recommend seeing this, but at the same time, I'm incredibly glad to have seen it.

It's just- there's something so powerful about grief. And I'm one of the lucky douchebags to have grieved the most in my life over two grandparents that lived very far away and my cat. To see people rebound from unimaginable things is astounding to me- I got shooshed at the concert last night and had to struggle to not let it affect my mood for a little while.

Dear Zachary reaffirms my faith in people, and life, but also reaffirms my disbelief in a just and caring God. That's the best thing I can say about it, I think. Wow.

Placeholder blog! Whoo!
Yesterday Kate and I ran up a whole bunch of steps in the new park right by Benny's while singing the theme to Rocky (which is called "Gonna Fly Now" which finally remembered last night at two AM).

Now I am using Kate's computer to blog- i think Kate should start her own project and blog just one day in April (called BODA), but a really long update.

things I did yesterday
- ran into Dan at a Walgreens.

- was introduced by Dan to my new favorite drink, a "Pot O' Gold," which is Strongbow Cider with a shot of Goldschlager (which, yes, is the girly gold-flake vodka as seen in Superbad)

- hours after blogging about my wish to do so, laid groundwork to host not one but two possible comedy open mics. Cross your fingers.

- saw the pastiche movie Tokyo! which was two thirds super happy funtime awesome and one third odd. I will probably review it on the film blog at a soonish point.

- ate a $4 dinner at the Red Dot

- shot four games of pool (lost three of them)

- finally, sang three songs at karaoke, with declining degrees of results: first I rocked out "All My Loving," then I sort of nailed "Strange Condition" (yeah, I whooped out a good "YORN COMMA PEETE!" when I saw they had it in the book) and then completely brain-farted on the middle of "Suspicious Minds."

when you land, when you land, know all there is to know
Wow, is this early or what?

Anyway, we all know Route To Fame And Fortune #1 is my novel. RTFAF #2? That would be my idea to shoot six episodes of my own tv show about stand up comics and put it on the internet. I figure six is a good, BBC seriesish number, and I have plots sketched out for all of them. Plus, I wrote the pilot already (albeit not in proper script format with centered dialogue and all).

Now all I need are four other comedians/actors willing to work for free, various supporting roles and extras (also unpaid) a camera, a bar willing to let me host an open mic and film various scenes there, and Final Cut Pro (or what have you).

It's fun to dream, anyway. Plus I have so much material written that I never get to use ('cause I rarely do open mics anymore, and when I do it's just ten minutes anyway) that it's easy to filter it into four distinct voices.


Log in