Category: Uncategorized

I'm pretty much freaking out as to where I'm going to live after summer is over. Should I rent a room and save some cash, or should I get a studio? I'm not big on living with people, but the cheaper the place, the less I'll have to work, and the more I can concentrate on more important things.

The writing is at a standstill. Mostly because I recently acquired Acid Pro 5, Fruity Loops, and various other music production software that's been sucking my time away like whoa. Music can actually be fun when you don't have all the human factors involved, aka lazy band mates that don't do shit! Radiohead, eat your heart out. HA.

getting drunk on a monday tuesday. weird. we were supposed to take the boat out on the lake today but when we got it into the water, the damn battery had died and we couldn't get it started, so we just left. all day fiasco getting it water ready and now this!? ah well. maybe a bonfire tonight, so if anyone wants to partake, give me a jingle. laid back.

i want some netflix friends.
if you've got it, let me know.

i would really like to hang out with someone today. maybe go to a park if it's nice out. swings! ahahaha. i'm not spending any money (or very little) so it will have to be free (or cheap).

so two nights ago i got my ass beat by four dudes.
life rules.

32 Previously unrecorded Jackson Pollocks announced by Alex Matter

check it out

Today I volunteered my services (and my truck) to a girl that was moving and hadn’t a way to do so. That means this week Derek and I don’t have to volunteer at the soup kitchen to balance out our karma.

Be sure to watch the Detroit Pistons win a basketball game tonight!

After last night's disappointing SNL, I decided to make a cigarette run. I pulled out from the fill station and drove around Lansing because I didn't feel like sitting around the hotel any longer. I drove down Cedar, and headed downtown to check out the skyline for a minute, and then headed in the general direction of the airport just to get my head straight. I saw some wierd lights in the sky but they were pretty faint because of the light pollution. I drove out to the country and saw an amazing episode of Aurora Borealis. Light was flying all over the sky in waves and the electrical storm was most intense directly overhead, almost taking on the shape of a nebula. It took me a while to find a place to pull in and park because of all the florecent lights and trees obstructing views of the sky, but when I finally found a place I pulled in and sat there in the wee hours of the morning watching the storm while the sun began to rise, slowly chasing it across the sky and then finally swallowing it whole. There's something about it that has a pacifying effect over me; my head gets clear and I can't help but feel overwhelmed with happiness; all worries of time and place are filed down to nothing by pleasant reverie. Last night was my second experience with the northern lights.

The first time, four years ago, I watched the northern lights while lying in a hayfield surrounded by a wood, camping in the back country near Cadillac Lake. Amazingly enough the earth passed through a stream of asteroids that weekend and the Aurora Borealis danced with a meteor shower. Lying on a blanket freezing my drunken ass off I fell in love with a girl who fell in love with me while the sky blazed.

I think I might head down to Chicago tonight to see Deerhoof at The Empty Bottle.
(1035 N Western Ave, 773.276.3600)
$10

"life isn't a bitch, life is a beautiful woman/
you only call her a bitch 'cause she won't letchu get that pussy/
maybe she didn't feel ya'll had any similar interests/
or maybe you're just an asshole who couldn't sweet talk the princess"
  aesop

My brother is coming home on leave from Iraq in a couple of days.  It's going to be nice to see him.  Have a few drinks and play some cards.  It's always funny when he comes home because they aren't allowed alcohol in Iraq, and he always gets really shitty and funny drunk when he comes home.  Last time he ordered some of this bunk-ass absinthe and sent it home so it'd be waiting for him when he returned.  Notwithstanding the bunkness of the absinthe itself, the alcohol content was way up there, and little to say we polished it.  Us Robb's are pretty funny drunks. We it's fun rambling about old times.

I remember when we were just little kids, when we we're going to Westdale Elementary in Saginaw. I was in first grade and he was in Pre-K. We used to get into fights all the time. There were these two book bags that we had and since we were pretty poor, one of the bags was really plain, and the other was this decidely ugly and uncool cheap plaid bag that was totally tattered. We used to fight over whose turn it was to have the plain bag for the day because we didn't like being seen with the plaid one. How ridiculous we were! We always went to the richie schools but always lived in the smallest, poorest section of the school districts. When we moved to Midland it was even worse. We lived in a small two bedroom apartment while all of our friends lived in these huge and gorgeous places that used to make me feel sick to my stomach with envy when I'd walk home from school. Of course we always walked. We would have rather died than be seen dropped off in our old stationwagon. Looking back I feel so foolish thinking that money was such a great thing, and the hell my mother must have put up with raising us alone on what she could. My brother and I used to come home after school and nobody was there to watch us because my mom was at work. She was making just enough money to not qualify for any assistance, and our father was never in the picture so he never sent money. Sometimes we'd forget the key and we wouldn't have anyway of getting in the apartment. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we could climb up to the second floor balcony by stepping on the gas lines that ran up the side of the building. On occassion we could jiggle the sliding door just right and get in. Other times we had to wait in the park. Man those were some hard times. I'm glad I went through it though. I don't know what type of person I would have become if I were one of those people who had everything handed to them their entire life. I don't think I'd have appreciation for anything. How could I, if I never earned it?

It’s so cold in this house.
This weekend is supposed to be nice.
Exams will be over.
Sunny and in the seventies.
I really can’t wait.

I shaved off my head like a monk today. Liberating.

So I have been reading Bluebeard; thank you for that.  I'm taking it in chunks because I like to read K.V. slowly and taste it.  I didn't think I would, but you were right.  I like it that you underlined parts in it because I can almost tell what you were thinking when I read those chunks, but I don't like "Potato BARN" written in places because I'm afraid you're going to give away the ending, if you haven't already.  I didn't talk to you today because I didn't want to talk to ANYone today, and getting all those calls made me even more reclusive.

I started writing something after a huge brainstorm, and I sat at the page reworking about five sentences over and over again until it was just right.  I intend this to be a novel, so I'm assuming that it'll be 2050 before it's done.  At least when I'm doing that I'm not thinking about anything else, kind of like Rabo Karabekian's friends.  Except I'm not watching how the paint falls on canvas. I'm lingering on words.  I'm dodging my other obligations. But I guess that's not anything new.  I'll fabricate something to do instead of face the real problems directly. 

I got carpet in my room today.  Finally.  So I have a bed, which is always a good thing to have, and I have a desk.  And a record player.  Beatles records, Pauls Simon and Art Garfunkel reminding me of when my grandma would dance to Mrs. Robinson, singing in her old person voice and making me smile.  (Some people's parents are as old as my grandma.)  I've taken four boxes of miscellaneous hazerdous waste that has collected over the years and condensed it down to one.  Who knows why I save the shit that I do.  Whenever I used to pull it all out it did nothing but remind me of the best and worst times of my life and make me so nostalgic that I'd get nauseous, and end up getting pissed off at myself for choices, or pissed off that I couldn't be back in those times, or pissed off that I'm not as happy as I was then, or pissed off that I couldn't run a 4:25 mile now if my dirty life depended on it.  I feel that getting rid of this stuff will just let my mind do what it will with all of those thoughts and feelings, and throwing the shit away is the best way for me to move forward instead of always looking back.  Now, If I could just concentrate on getting through today more than thinking about tomorrow, I just might be okay.  That sounds absolutely unauthentic, and it is.  But it's true nevertheless.

The funny thing about heading toward your Twenties is that you think that they're going to be fantastic.  At least I thought they would be.  Sure, I've had some pretty fantastic times.  Maybe twice a year, when I'm drunk enough to forget myself, but not drunk enough to misplace myself.  I thought you were supposed to enjoy these times?  Fuck these times.  People just leave.  That's all people ever do is just leave.  Maybe that's just the Midwest, I dunno.  Suddenly I feel a longing to be in an episode of Cheers.  *SINGING*sometimesyouwannago where everybodyknowsyourname*.

Let's do a quick recap of my adult life.  Here we go.
Graduate high school, with honors.(+)
Get into U of M, move to Detroit (+) Working at Meijer (-)
Move to East Lansing to be with Larice once again, failing out of MSU miserably after only a year. (-) 7-11 (-)
We break up, I move home because I'm no longer in school.  Work various mindless jobs for this period.(-)
Get an apartment in Lansing for a year with Angie doing absolutely nothing with myself.  Chi-chi's. (-)
Move to Naples for 6 months with Angie, working @ surf shop, cheats on me, do absolutely nothing with myself. (-)
Move to Jacksonville for six months so I can establish residency and start school again, but I'm kicked out of my place with no money saved, so I have to move home.  Still nothing. (-)
Work the summer at Alma College as grounds crew. (-)
Start at LCC (+)  Working at gas station. (-)
Slept with my best friends girlfriend, thus destroying every social tie that I have (–)
First year, 3.8 gpa. (+) Working at gas station (-)
Second year, 3.5 gpa (+)  Working at P.F. Chang's (-) Apartment okay for the most part aside from my being fickle.(+/-)

I have a larger collection of name tags and hair nets than Wayne Campbell.  My resume.  Brilliant.  I may be on the upswing.  I don't know.  School has been all right for the most part, but it's pretty discouraging when you're 24 and  you've barely got 70 credits and you see 21 y/o kids graduating and moving off and doing great things.

A change of mindset is in order.  Or a hefty kick in the balls.  So what's done is done and I just needed to ramble so I can set this day in the past and leave it there.  Cheers.

As I lay in bed this evening trying desperately to fall sleep I happened across two thoughts:

A) They must put a topically addictive substance in Q-tips; and
B) Despite how decidedly uncool it is to have a favorite band, I choose Super Furry Animals

Goodnight.

only three days left!

today is so so gorgeous.
just thinking this is what people of san diego get everyday is motivation enough for me to put my sights on that place when the wandering life is done with me.

I returned from a trip a couple of weeks ago only to find something written on the living room wall. It read:
"No matter how far a jackass travels he will always come back a jackass"
I don't know that it was directed at me but I found it rather uncanny to have appeared soon after I returned. To be quite honest, that was the straw that broke the "jackass' " back. I put in my notice at work and told my flatmates that I've got to leave, and that I'm doing it ASAP. I'm thinking with more humility and attempting to get in touch with reality. I'm fed up with trying to make a puzzle piece fit that was never meant to, tired of quotas and status, or the appearance of them; all in all my goal is just to get back in touch with myself. I don't know that it will happen, but I'm going to try. My mind is very unstable lately, as if I'm on the verge of a major shift in mindset and from this point things are critical. I can see myself completely collapsing or rising up and this is the place where those roads diverge. I want to find something creative and simple to work on, whether it be writing or remodeling my parents' house; something simple that i can focus most of my efforts on. I'm tired with worrying how I look in other people's eyes, tired of being judged, tired of dealing with the stress of my work and the people I have to see on a daily basis. I don't want to see any people that I don't have to, a funny thing to say for someone interested in sociology, but it's the truth. I came down here to be surrounded by people and now I'm just sick of them. Like going to the bar for a beer and instead you get smashed on tequilla. I want to see my family and I want to love them, and I want to be in an environment that is caring and facilitates my desire to discover my convictions on my own and live by them, or at least move towards it more so than I have recently. Last night, in response to that slogan on the brick in the wall I responded, with an anecdote, whether it was directed toward me or not. It now reads, just below:
"No matter how much a wise ass pontificates he will never be more than a wise ass"

I've been a bit worried as of late, worried for myself, maybe something that has never existed
Driving boxes of Midwestern roads I talk, sometimes in consolation, other times in desperation, wanting anything to turn out some solidarity. As the days persist I float through them, already tired, already somewhat dead, as if ghostly I pass from one day to the next, barely leaving a footprint, not seeing my reflection in people that I call friends. Because the ones that used to reflect have now been spat upon and grow dilapidated in time, and in a way I do not any longer exist, but instead just keep returning to places and feelings that remind me of them, as if to see myself better, to construct some abstract creation of self that I'm not even certain I like, but it's an easy cop out to not following through with growing and creating something new. On those same box roads I see out-of-state plates coming home on holiday and vacation, where I can just imagine their thoughts as they pull into the drive and take that deep breath before they unclench the steering wheel and unlock the heavily latched door to their old life, and step in. And no matter their new lives, no matter their accomplishments and new relationships, no matter what new philosophies they have on life or volumes of information they've stuffed into their brains, they will always see an old reflection when home, "in all their looks and words"…though slightly stranger and more alien, with more creases in their face and a certain emptiness in the eyes. It is those feelings and those looks that I see in my dreams, that I wake up thirty, forty, or fifty years old, excited to leave on holiday and forget my new life that I wanted so badly, to come home only to see those old reflections of myself that I loathe and love, that I had tried to forget and despised to see, with my new life huddled like an elephant in the room and the old like a ghost at the dinner table. I'm terrified of this.

I had this bizarre dream last night. It's funny because I don't normally remember my dreams, but this one stuck.

It started with me leaning against the bar in this dining area/ballroom, everyone decked out in tuxedos and gowns, chandeliers and everything else. I was looking around and drinking my whiskey or whatever thinking how spectacular the place looked, but I wasn't in the greatest of moods. I didn't want to be there. At this point I looked over to this figure moving his way through the round tables toward one of the doors. He looked over at me and I was surprised to see that it was my dad. Not my step father, but the AWOL Bryan Sr. We looked straight at one other…and we knew exactly who the other was…but he just kind of nodded, turned his head away, and kept walking. I thought about it a second and then I was almost instantly wrought with madness. How could he have done that? I finished my drink and I headed for the door. Following him out I see that he's quite a ways ahead of me…and he's climbing into this vehicle…almost like a dump truck or something…but far larger. I don't even know how he got up there, it was just that large. He was eating lunch when I approached him; evidently the ballroom food wasn't to his liking. When he saw me he didn't even really say anything…just started sharing his lunch with me. He handed me this huge slab of fish…bigger than my arm…and I started to eat it. I don't eat seafood.

And when I woke I felt alone.

save me from this retchedness!

lend me your couch!
lend me your reference!

If there is someone on your friends list you would like to take, strip naked, tie them to a bed post, lick them until they scream, then screw them until both of you are senseless and unable to screw anymore, then wait about five minutes and do it all over again, then post this exact sentence in YOUR journal.

I had a dream that I was driving in someone else's car, and that person was with me telling me bunk directions. But the brakes were really bad and when I tried to slow down to take turns or stop for obstructions the car wouldn't stop…only slightly slow down when i put all of my weight into the brake; I'd just keep sliding…brakes screeching…and the steering wheel would slacken. I was completely helpless. I wonder if this is some kind of metaphor for my life.

I'm in North Carolina currently. My brother is being deployed to Iraq for the second time, this time on an 11 month stint. I'm here visiting and helping him move out of his apartment…it's kind of scary. hasn't really set in yet. I miss him already. I wish I could go in his place. I swear, if anything happens to him over there, the cowboy president has me to worry about, believe it.

i'm officially 24, thus officially old. actually my birthday was yesterday but i worked that day.
Hunter S. Thomson died on my birthday. I think it would have been funnier if he did it on presidents day instead of my birthday.

Today is a beautiful day. I love it when I rise with the sun, fully rested and in high spirits. I've been taking a lot from my religious readings lately, especially Rumi…he makes me think these positive thoughts, feel these feelings that everything is in it's right place. My posture is improving and the tension in my shoulders and brow are lessened by the day. I think soon that I will have the willpower to quit smoking and then I'll be filled with energy in time for spring!

I haven't always been the best of people, I know this, for I often wore it on my sleeve as pessimism. I have been trying to be more selfless. Yesterday I was walking to my car, 5 blocks away from class, and while passing the parked cars along the way I saw the little parking ticket police vehicle cruising along, trying to snag someone. I was about 2-3 car lengths ahead of her, and when I saw cars without minutes on the meter, I pumped in a coin for them. I think she saw me and was actually mad! Can you believe that! I laughed at her and I laughed at myself.

I feel like I'm a robot.  Not in the trendy way, either.
Routine. Zeep. Zip. Beep. Boink.
And coaxing myself and others into thinking that I'm strong isn't going to hold up much longer, I feel.  The ruse is going to break.  I'd just like someone else to be strong for me for a couple of days.  Maybe so I can just build my strength back up.  Like how a diver needs to come up for air, or to refill his tank, or whatever.  At risk of being pushed outside the realm of men I'll quite frankly state that I need someone to hold me in my bed without the relationship stresses or sex or whatever.  Someone that just makes me feel like I'm alive, that things are ok, and that there are people who care about me.  As a reminder.  Because I know these things are true, I just sometimes need to be reminded.  Lately I haven't been reminded very often.

This winter has been damned dreary.  It started out with a kick/hoorah, then it just kind of fizzled.  The other day it was -30 with windchill.  That's ok.  Whatever.  I live in Michigan, I can deal with it.  Then the snow.  And the clouds that block out the life-giving sun.  Then my dog Eddie Dies.  The saddest little thing ever.  But it's alright, he was sick, and it was his time. 

Then one of my Profs dropped my final grade from a 3.5 to a 3.0, not because I wasn't a good student, but because I missed some days of class.  I outperformed virtually everyone in class and that bastard wants to play god??  If you're reading this Dr, fuck you. I didn't go to class because you didn't teach me anything.  The grades I get are from what I already know or from what I teach myself.  Sad day when people pay all this money for a paper that says, "Hey, I know how to show up!"  Whatever. I'm a hypocrite, si.

And now Erica leaves for Hawaii in a week or so.  The one person I've connected with in over 2 years is now gone.  Who knows, maybe I'll follow her there.

Yes, there's an Idea.