god hates?

I've come to find that most of the people I know who I'd consider theologically misguided are generally good hearted and most honestly believe that their creed serves a loving, merciful god.

..but some people are scary, scary, scary.

leave a message and I'll call you back

So, what would you call that moment in a phone conversation when it's too close to saying goodbye to make someone wait for you to answer the call waiting but not close enough to wrap things up in time to catch the call before it hits voice mail?

crosstown traffic

ok... so, Bill's having a hard time figuring out how to reply to me over at the livejournal site, sooo... I guess it's easier to post anonymously over here, plus it seems a lil' more, well, adult, so I'll publish what I do over there in this space as well- minus the music and mood tags.

prog rockin'

Funny how, in general, "progressive rock" is, to me, nothing more than a soulless display of finely tuned instrumental technical proficiency that leaves me feeling nothing (and generally, only thinking, "gee those guys practiced a lot"), yet Roundabout or Karn Evil No. 9 come on the radio and I am all about it. Guess a few of 'em figured out the balancing act.

Still, I feel the genius of Van Halen was pairing an absolute freak, out-of-this world, revolutionary technical marvel of a guitar player (who never forgot the value of melody) with what was, in essence, ZZ Top's rhythm section.

...and I continue to be reminded of how much I underestimated David Lee Roth... in every way.

under... those rocks?

So the plan tuesday was that I would take my obligation-free day and use it to make progress toward finishing some recording that's been hanging over my head for, no shit, almost two years now (for the caribbean band with whom I play). My reward would be a visit to Cincinnati thursday (tonight/last night?) to visit a dear friend/sometimes girlfriend who's been terribly missed as of late. As of 8pm, I'd managed only to fill my life with enough meaningless distraction to keep my day recording-free. New plan. I'd take the energy that I pour into whatever neuroses that keep me inert- on the other side of the wall from a healthy, productive life actually spent doing the things I love- and devote it to alcoholism. Rather, or more specifically, I would cultivate an alcoholic life (Which, through some freak genetic accident, I've been spared the disposition) and use my neurotic energy managing said life, not distracting myself.

I put the mac in recording mode, grabbed a rocks glass and poured two fingers of bourbon. I had no ice: the first hint that my alcoholic skills were lacking. Got some ice cubes started (using hot water, of course to speed 'em along), and commenced with recording and bourbon neat. I eventually was able to add rocks, although my attempts at finding a buzz, much less taking my first steps toward my drunken life, were futile. I managed to get guitar tracks for two songs, along with a little editing in said songs' bass and percussion. Didn't manage to continue the habit (recording, not drinking) today, but I've come to find that one of my biggest impediments to starting a task is believing I'm capable of doing the job in the first place. Fingers crossed that I can get around to a lil' more work on the reggae while the memory of my capability (in music, not addiction) is still fresh.

I did allow myself the reward of visiting cinti. Although it's been a long time since I've felt lonely (any lack of companionship over the last month was more due to lack of energy than anything else), it's been a while since I've kissed anyone I've loved, and that likelihood was the real reward I'd allowed myself. If I'd been honest with myself, I'd have known better, and the slightly different beginning of my visit wouldn't have led to me spending too much of the night doing my second-best imitation of a bitch-ass emo high schooler. In any event, the memories that last are of the sheer joy of two clueless louisvillians' wild goose chase of a suitably decent vegetarian meal in downtown cinti.

Other details aside, 48 hours brought two more lessons in finding what I needed by looking for something else. Guess it's just important to keep looking.