Put out the fire inside me. (Day 122)

I'm going to be doing a podcast tonight. It should be a lot of fun. If I get it uploaded, I'll post a link here so everyone can not listen to it. It'll be rad!

I just discovered Pushing Daisies. It's awesome. I really wish this show would have got a proper chance, and I solely blame ABC, because who the hell watches ABC? Little do we know, some of the best shows are on there. Scrubs for the win!

So tell me what your plan for zombie survival would be. I'd love to hear it.

And thank you Velvet for the nice guest update. All of that was untrue minus the calling and being there to listen to someone. That much is true. The rest are lies.

All of them.

-Until tomorrow.

We could go toe to toe in the middle of a cell. (Day 121) [Guest Update]

Today's update comes from the lovely (and oft-linked here) friend of mine, Velvet. I've known her for two years, and she's tried to kill me three times. I'm still standing, so obviously, I'm invincible/untouchable/the Show Stopper.

Be that as it may, and all joking aside, she posted a really funny and good blog, which is nice for a change around here at Days Gone By. Please enjoy it, and make sure to click on the Cacti photo at the bottom, as well as the link on her name, and treat yourself to some amazing photography.

-Aaron.
---------------------------------------------------------------


Some weeks ago, Mr. Hale (owner and proprietor of Days Gone By) asked me to do a guest update for him. I got very excited. And then...I got very lazy. Today, Dudley Shale's laziness trumped mine, and he somehow talked me into finally doing a guest update. Also, he has insisted on writing something out for me by hand that appears to have turned his hand into a wizened little claw, and I want to do what I can to help get it back in working order.

And so. Here, just for you, dear readers, is a list of the "Top 10 reasons why you should buy a book written by Aaron Hale someday."

1. His fingers are magic. And we're not talking some David Blaine bullshit. We're talking mystical here.

2. He takes risks. I mean, he wears flannel, has a beard, and yet refuses to drink PBR. That's going out on a limb, kids, it really is. He risks ostracization in the name of only drinking beer that doesn't taste like bitter, watery urine. He's a risk taker, have no doubt.

3. He would ask for Tom Gabel's hand in marriage if it were legal (and not, you know, creepy.)

4. He will not let you watch porn at his house, but if you need a place to bang your girlfriend, Casa de Hale is all yours.

5. He will listen to you if you call him crying at 3 am, and when you tell him the same story three times, but not at all if you dare slander the Trio.

6. He has a cat that has the balls to go up skirts and is also the size of a small farm animal.

7. He is afraid of snow, lava, and pretty girls.

8. He could be laying under a bridge in Mexico with his pants around his ankles, comatose, beaten and left for dead, and he could Still. Out-drink. You.

9. He writes words that can change things. Will change things.

10. Fuck tha police.

(10a. He lost sleep to help me take the photo below. Because he just likes cacti that much.)



-Until tomorrow.

Love is everlasting when love is on the road, I'm told (Day 120)

I've been thinking a lot about what or who I'm gonna be like when I'm thirty. The future freaks me out.

At what age do you stop chasing dumb dreams? I wish I could see into the future. What exists beyond being 23? What happens when you stop being dumb and focus on 401 (k)'s and all the things that matter so much right now are no longer important?

I wish I had a crystal ball. I wish I could see where my friends would be, and how they move on. I hate the thought that one day it's no longer a kosher idea to stay up til 5 in the morning, or just drive somewhere for the hell of it.

How does it all happen? Is there a defining moment?

If you have any input or advice, I'd love to hear it.

Also, Europeans I really need you to get a hold of me! I've got big exciting news for you, hopefully. So get a hold of me!

-Until tomorrow.

Nothing from nowhere, I'm no one at all. (Day 119)

People from European countries, I really need you to contact me when you read this. I have a proposition for you, and without you guys...this actually might be impossible.

I've been working my whole life for something, and I see it there. I see it on the horizon, and I just want to only focus on it, only think about it, only talk about it, only work for it.

I want to bury myself in this and escape. Duck my head down and run until I run out of land, and my legs kicking are propelling me across the ocean. Like a pillar of salt. Yeah, like a pillar of salt.

There's enough here to just leave lay for a while. I think about that term taking it like a champ, but honestly...doesn't a champ still get knock-kneed after some punches are thrown? I don't know.

I'm off to write. I also might have to stop by the post office. I'm not to sure.


-Until tomorrow.

Feeling surrounded, so bored with mortality, I decay. All of this hatred is fucking real. (Day 118)

I went and saw I Love You, Man for the second time. I had some great company, and it was a lot of fun. After that I came home and kind of sat around and thought about some things that have been going on.

It's been a while since I actually stopped to do that. It's strange, I expected with these medications...that racing feeling I get every time I start to feel manic would become something of the past. But they haven't, and I'm pretty happy with that actually. I feel like I can actually put them to use in a positive way now.

Shit, I wrote a book in a week. That's pretty damned impressive, I think, as far as volume and time are concerned. As far as quality, I have no clue. But I'm pretty happy with it.

I'm working on this new book now called A Positive Rage. It's about a singer in a band, and his life on the road and stuff like that. I can't recall any type of work of fiction with the same idea, which I'm stoked on, and I think the entire message will be great.

It touches on the struggles of coming home and readjusting to life, paying bills in the interim between albums, starting families and stuff like that. The main character starts off kind of like a cocky asshole, but not someone I don't think anyone would actually hate. In a charming way, almost. So I'm pretty excited about it. One of my favorite lines so far is from one of their "songs" which goes, "close your eyes and raise your palms/you're singing the words like you wrote the song."

I don't know. It's just a little different experiment. It's all experimenting. Maybe one day I'll write some schticky book like a Twilight or Harry Potter and then have golden swimming trucks and go swimming in a pile of adolescents money. Per chance to dream.

I ran into a pal today who asked why I seemed so different. He hasn't seen me since I started taking the anti depressants. I couldn't really answer it, but he definitely seem pretty stuck on it, and continuously kept asking what was up. "Did you get laid?" "Did you win the lottery?" and I really couldn't quite answer him.

He and his girlfriend went on to come over earlier tonight. Unfortunately he's run into a hard road block: See, his girlfriend is really quiet, which usually kind of bothers me. But she seems pretty cool, you can tell she's really nice and sweet, and knowing this kid like I do, she's been nothing but the greatest thing that's ever happened to him. A few months ago, they began dating. I'm not one to pry, nor certainly am I not one to ever really pass this kind of judgment because (I'm three years older than him, not much but still relevant) when I was his age I was doing the exact same thing.

He's 20 right now, and his girlfriend is a few months shy of 18. Whatever, it happens. It's consensual, they both very obviously care about each other, and she's a very responsible person from what I can tell. That being said, I don't know the story but I'm sure it wasn't the best of situations for her to begin with, but when they started dating X amount of months ago, she packed up her shit and moved out of her parents house. From what I can tell that situation at her home doesn't seem like it's exactly healthy. During the course of over half a year, her parents haven't once made an ounce of an effort to coerce her into coming back home so I don't think they care all that much about her, honestly. That's fine, she's in a better arrangement, she's got a job and she's prepping for school. C'est la vie, see ya next Tuesday.

However, recently she ran into health issues. For the first time they reached out to her parents for some kind of health, because the situation did seem pretty serious. Her family not only denied her any kind of assistance, they decided her six month plus vacation has run it's course. Instead of helping their daughter in a pretty serious situation, they not only said no, they decided to file her as a runaway. This puts a lot of people in a very hard position, and it sucks because it can actually ruin lives. They decided to get the cops involved, which I know they have the right to do as parents, but not when they didn't give a shit for half a year and some change. Not only does this put so many people in a hard place, it meant that she couldn't get medical care here in America, period. CPS would have gotten involved. They had to go to Mexico, and in the end my friend actually had to assist in the actual procedure itself.

Think about that for a second.

The light at the end of the tunnel is that in four months she turns 18, and this is no longer an issue. Unfortunately, for those 120 days they have to continuously look over their shoulders and pray Johnny Law doesn't come beating down their doors.

I've never seen this guy so torn up about something, and truthfully...I don't care for anyone's opinions on their age. It happens, their being safe, and they are both fairly intelligent beings; it really isn't hurting anyone. They get each other, and knowing my friends...he doesn't really relate to well with girls all that often, so as far as I can tell...she's pretty unique in a lot of senses.

I just hope for the time being things work out for them. I wish there was something I could say or suggest. I've spent a fair amount of my life skirting around the law, and I know how to survive on my own, but I couldn't ever fathom having to carry someone I loved that deeply past the muck and mire. I've had it hard enough getting away alone, I'd hate to have that added knowledge of knowing it isn't about existence and survival for me; It's protection for them.

I know the process of emancipation is always something on the table. I can tell just by looking at her that there is something not right about where it is that she comes from. I get that, I've seen it happen a lot in my life, and she wears that around her neck like a bullseye. In any other situation, a less obviously detrimental situation to her, I'd just suggest she just go home and wait out the four months. But here, emancipation is practically a moot point at this time because A) if they do apply for the process, etc, not only do they blow up their spot. They leave themselves vulnerable to being caught, and B) As long as the process takes, and leaving themselves that vulnerable for that long, she'll actually turn 18 by the time everything is taken care of.

It's a shitty spot to be. I really do wish them the best of luck. If I can help, I want them to know I'm there for them. No questions asked. Fuck it, we need to go down Mexico way for a few days? Let's get fucking going, we're burning daylight.

-Until tomorrow.

With love and trust and friend and hammers...we're gonna build something the summer. (Day 117) [Guest Update.]

Today's guest update comes from my good buddy John Miskelly. He's an internationally renowned talent, he can write and he's an awesome musician.

I really hope you guys enjoy tonight's update. Make sure to leave comments say how much better this was than anything else I've done. Because it's true. And he's foreign. Foreigners are totally awesome.

Tomorrow's update is gonna be a pretty long one. I'm pretty excited about it. I hope everyone's doing great.

And it's true. We're gonna build something this summer.

-Aaron.


There are band decisions, there are shit decisions, there are decisions that seemed like really good decision at the time of execution but turned out bad. Then there are decisions that are so utterly, audaciously and knowingly shit they can only, surely, hopefully, come full circle and turn out to be genius.

By my own volition I’m leaving a well-paid state job with free health and dental care, free accommodation, mostly free food and going back to a country on the brink of bankruptcy to live in rented accommodation with no income for the foreseeable future at the beginning of the Great Depression 2.

As decisions go it’s up there with the shittiest of the shit. Standing on a mountaintop during a lightening storm in a suit of armour springs to mind, investing your life savings in Royal Bank of Scotland, voting for Hitler in ’33… ask me again in a years time and I’ll see if I can put it into realistic perspective, possibly while I squat in a cardboard box with a McCafe cup full of coppers.

There’s an absurd but romantic reason for my voluntary decline into poverty though, I’ll be living with my friends in a city with a punk rock scene. I’ll be in a band. The house we live in will leak but it’ll be ours, we’ll play our music loud, we’ll live in filth and laugh at our own low standards, we’ll talk about inlay art ideas for albums we’ll never release, we’ll talk about the banter we’ll have with other bands we’ll never tour with, we’ll give a nick name to the van we never tour in, we’ll put demos on Myspace that never get listened to, we’ll tell major label reps we’ll never meet to shove the contract they’ll never write up their ass, we’re fine as we are. We’ll have nervous conversations with the locals, we’ll drink the local brew, we’ll drink our own brew, we’ll see small bands in small venues and breath boozy breath all over them and grin cos “they speak different,” I’ll sow another patch onto those jeans I can’t bring myself to chuck out, we’ll debate Against Me!, we’ll check punknews.org, we’ll “make coffee not war”, we’ll put out two issues of a zine one year apart from each other, we’ll “turn those clapping hands into angry balled fists”, we’ll sneer at yuppies, we’ll sneer at sports cars, we’ll tip our heads to tramps “cos tramps like us and we like tramps”, we’ll piss against SUVs and won’t wiggle and run away cos really we’re scared, we’ll do irony, we won’t do egos, we’ll sing, we’ll dance, we’ll jump about, we’ll play “the floor is made of lava!”, we’ll have acoustic sessions on the doorstep, we’ll play football in the park, we’ll swim in the Taff and catch cold, I’ll dissolve the paint away on my bass with alcoholic sweat, we’ll wear sombreros. We will acknowledge that existing and living are not the same thing.

Poverty is a middle class lifestyle choice that’s on the clearance rack and I think I like it.

“Raise a toast to saint Joe Strummer

We are our only saviors”


-Until tomorrow.

Magazines and Daddy issues; I know you're pretty pissed; I hope you still let me kiss you. (Day 116)

What's going on? How was your weekend?

This weekend I wound up doing a bunch of things I never do, and I'm really glad to get outside of the box.

Life in a sense, at least for me in realizing certain things, is kind of like a Hold Steady album. No matter what's happening in the present, it always kind of has this air of nostalgia to it. It's probably why I'm drawn to that band as much as I am.

It's also why I'm drawn so heavily towards books like On the Road, or Catcher in the Rye or most anything Chuck Bukowski ever wrote. And while I have love for a lot of different genres of story telling, because story telling is an art form and practice that will outlast everything that's come before it, I'm always found of specifically personal story telling.

With the book I'm writing, there's nothing ground breaking and mind blowing. I'm not about to confuse what it is for what it isn't. There's a lot of truth, and there's a lot of fabrication. As of this moment though, the book is done and it took me about a week and two days to finish it up. I'm going to be coming through it and changing a few things here and there, but I'm extremely proud of what I've accomplished and even if it doesn't get picked up by anyone, I'll staple this motherfucker together myself and print it up here on this paper til the walls cave in, and I'll send it to anyone who wants to donate whatever they feel it's worth, as long as they pay shipping.

The other night I met some really cool guys and gals outside of a bar in Mesa called 1st Round Draft. While I was probably a bit younger than them (I think they were in their mid-to-late-thirties) they were still pretty god damned awesome. This guy name Dale wound up absolutely slaying karaoke. Now usually it can be pretty damned bad. There were a few absolute massacres (some girl horribly sang "Just a Girl" from No Doubt, and another guy may have ruined "Brain Stew" by Green Day for the rest of my life) but this guy wound up just killing it. Absolutely. There was another guy who wound up doing "Miami" and wound up just free styling the entire song, and it was good. It was so fucking good. I've seen actual free style battles before that didn't even approach what this guy was doing. Just laying the cut, and having a good time.

But there was this blond girl who couldn't handle her liquor all that well, and wound up sprawling face first in a bed of rocks, and made probably the most...how do I put this?

You know how when people are drunk or messed up, they just make sounds you can't replicate when sober? Just these animalistic, guttural and emotive sounds that hit the ear with such a humorous and confusing tone? Do you have any idea what I'm talking about, or am I just an island?

Well anyway, if you have any idea of what I'm talking about, those moans and groans and...whatever else that actually has no name for it's drunken cacophony, this girl was making some of the most interesting and unique sounds I'd ever heard in my life. Just these sounds of sloppy and slippery tonality. It was great. When her friend and I finally were able to help her to her feat, she thanked me and asked me in Spanish (her friend translated) "Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior? You don't have to keep picking people up if you have. He'll make sure you've made it home safe." and she kept repeating this over and over again. I thought it was hilarious to see thing small white girl so plastered she couldn't even speak in her native tongue.

She immediately started making out with this guy, who by his reaction you could tell was a complete stranger. I was impressed at the fact that she hadn't puked in all this. They wound up going to his car and they made out for quite a while. They might have parted ways, or they may have went home together. But either way, I think that's pretty rad honestly. Sometimes you have to find Jesus in a stranger, even if you don't believe in his legacy everyone still needs to feel like there's a salvation out there somewhere, and it's openly awaiting them if only they want to try and find it. And yeah, sometimes it's in some strangers mouth and tongue. Some times it's in the bottom of a bottle, sometimes it's in pills, and sometimes it's in friends. Where I'm finding my salvation is in places I never thought to look: right in front of me.

And that's what Open Road and Brick Walls is about. It's about every opportunity in the world, and no matter how open that road may seem, once you get on it and put the pedal to the floor...there's always the chance (and likelihood) that you're going to approach a brick wall. It's about how you let those brick walls effect you, and how much fuel you have left in the reserves to keep going after those brick walls.

It's about those mistakes you make, and the choices you make.

There's a lot of talk about drugs and drinking in this book. Some really heavy, heavy talk of it, actually. I want to take a moment to actually comment on that, first, from my mouth.

I spent the first 20 years of my life relatively clean and on the straight and narrow. There was some drinking, yeah. Casual use of weed and stuff. But even matched against most peoples usage of those chemicals in High School and early years like that, I really didn't even do it on a normal basis. It was always so low. I was more interested in movies and books and hanging out with friends and going to shows.

Around the time the Departed and I split, I started dabbling a lot heavier ("she smells just like cocaine"). Only with alcohol, and the quantities I was pouring it down my gullet was far from healthy. Around the time I started getting ready to go to New York I started popping pills and doing other things.

But I discovered coming out of IHOP the other morning...I spent 20 years of my life pretty much completely sober. Comparing those years to now, I have to say I prefer now. I'm...notorious for marching to the beat of a different drummer. A new friend of mine pointed out earlier today when we were hanging out, she said when we were talking about this, "It's not that you march to the different beat or whatever, it's that you're a drummer yourself. You march to the beat of whatever starts bouncing in that crazy ass head of yours." and I stopped to think about it, and realized she's absolutely right.

It's why I've never been comfortable in my own skin. I had nothing to compare and contrast with because I only really heard what I was laying down.

And I see it more and more with this book. I think I've known all along where I wanted to go with myself, but something has always held me back. It's myself, and I know that now. And I know it now, and I know it while I'm still very, very young.

But somehow I'm piecing this together on my own, in a sense. Whether it be drinking, or whatever else, it's not to escape anything. It's to confront something, it's to experience something in a different light, and it's to celebrate life. I do not abuse it in an extravagant way, I don't need it every day. I have it for legitimate reasons, but that being said...it's definitely a tremendous perk to have them. But I haven't had a day in six years where I haven't been in throbbing pain.

This book is filled with subtle nods to so many different things. From Neil Diamond to Against Me!

This book is dedicated to the memory of Lester Bangs, Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, my Aunt and a close friend. It's dedicated to the Hold Steady, and Against Me! It's dedicated to YOU, it's dedicated to my father, it's dedicated to Allie and Arleen. It's dedicated to Alex and it's most certainly dedicated to Velvet. Without her, I doubt I would've found a reason to even right this jumbled mess.

See, I'm a really guarded and closed off person. And in the end, it's really...hurt me more than protected me. It's strange how you realize the right time for anything. Because truthfully while you're waiting for the right time, that right time is gonna be after what it is you were hoping to accomplish. You have to take a moment and make it a lifetime. We are our own movies. We are the soundtrack, the narrative and the audience. In saying that, it's up to use to purchase the tickets to our own show, otherwise it's gonna sell out and be out of theaters by the time we decide to chip in.

You have to make life happen. I'm learning that now.

So where do I go now that Open Roads and Brick Walls is completed? I started a new book called A Positive Rage, which is another nod to my pals in the Hold Steady. I came home today to find a package with a thank you note inside from the Hold Steady for their new live album/documentary DVD.

A Positive Rage is...well, I'm really excited about it. It's completely positive and it deals with the frustrations of everything. But I really...I just can't wait to start showing it off.

After this, I may take a short break and see where I want to head from there. I've completed two books in one year, and it's only the third month, nearly fourth. I don't want to run ideas to thin, and I want to put a lot of time and energy into both and put some time between the two. That being said, I've got big plans for Open Roads and Brick Walls. I'm working really hard to attain them, too.

Now enough with me gushing about something no one cares about ever that isn't me. When I was coming home today, we picked up Arleen's daughter, Allie. It's so...strange to see her. She's becoming a little person, and it's so shocking to me. She's so smart, and funny. It's so fascinating to watch her, and think that just two short years ago, she was pink and tiny and a baby. Every time she see's me she says my name, and automatically all is right with the world. I never realized that as much of a pacifist and proprietor of peaceful solutions as I am, I never once realized that there could be someone in existence that I know I would absolutely whoop ass to make sure no one ever wronged them. And I mean absolutely whoop somebodies ass.

Her expressions are the funniest thing in the world. I never thought I would stop myself from saying something just to make sure she didn't have to hear it, at least not from me. But I never knew there would actually be that moment where I'd be content just talking with a child, and just listening to what they have to say. I never thought I'd actually be happy to watch a child eat.

Her expressions though, are absolutely the most hilarious thing in the world to witness. Whatever you think is better, funnier and more worthwhile is wrong. My friend Richard was holding her toy ransom until she finished her dinner, and the look she shot him the dirtiest, "Don't screw with me kid, I could have you killed" look I've ever seen in my entire life. I had to bury my face in my soda cup to keep myself from exploding with laughter.

There's nothing better than that.

I don't expect anyone to remember me. I remember being stoned on LSD on a bus to Massachusetts one rainy Friday morning with this girl Christie, and just being so bummed though that Arleen's kid wouldn't remember me. Gotta love inebriated mind frames. But the first time I came back to Arleen's house, Allie was a little cautious of me, and then hugged me and I nearly cried.

The simple fact that she knows my name...man, fuck everything else. That's the best feeling in the whole god damned world. She doesn't give a shit if I pissed some "punk" label off, or if some dude in Australia is obsessed with calling me a faggot and a cunt and a pussy every single chance he gets. Fuck that, and fuck them. For some reason she's comfortable around me, and that's...good enough. Everything else is pretty much secondary, and I couldn't care less what anyone thinks about that.

I couldn't ever raise a child. I just know that. The bloodline dies with me, ha. But the thing is, it's a conscience decision not too. I'd be rubbish at it. I don't know if I'll ever be mature enough. God knows I'm not smart enough, and I'm not about to pretend I am. I have no idea how to change a diaper, I just learned there's clips in the back of cars for car seats, and just...wow. It's mind bottling.

But I think about it. What if I ever did have a kid. How would I react when they became a little person, and then a person of their own altogether? Just looking at myself...how would I react if they experimented with sex, drugs and rock and roll? I'd want them to trust me enough to where they could talk to me. Be up front and honest, because I'd like to trust myself enough to understand and not be a judgmental person. But then I think about how there's books I've written, how they can openly read what I've said, things I've done, thoughts I had at their age, and I just kind of cringe. I cringe if, say, Allie were to read that, and I don't have a clue why.

But if I had a child...what would I do? How would I be, and how would it change me? There's absolutely no way that child would ever have to worry if they were gonna be able to have clothing when they needed it, or if they needed a ride somewhere when they were ten they wouldn't have to rely on someone else. There's absolutely no way they'd have to be in public school. In fact, I'm positive I'd put them in a charter school, period. Even if I have to work ten jobs and sell blood.

I look at so many parents today, and look at how they treat their children. They don't care. That's why I admire Arleen so much. You just look at Allie, and you know she's smart. Arleen never baby talked her, and I love that the most about her approach. That's ridiculous, it's counterproductive to a child's mental development, and it's degrading and insulting. I've never done that. They are in fact little people, and if someone unironically baby talked me now, I'd lose my shit and kill them. I can't imagine how a baby would feel. But Allie is so smart, so well behaved and social. She's friendly. There's not a chance in the world she's questioning if she's loved or not. I've never in my entire life seen so many people dedicated to raising a single child. The whole "it takes a village" thing? She has more than a village of people who bleed only for her.

She's two. She's in her "terrible" two's, and I know for a fact she's not at all acting like a monster. She has her moments because, well, she's a child and a person and she's allowed.

But I've been searching for a former clarity. Searching and writing and hoping I over looked something. I've realized there's absolutely nothing whatsoever I over looked. What I've left in the past is there for a reason; Because there's so many better days ahead.

I got hurt badly a few weeks ago. It was my own doing, and I acted like an asshole instead of being supportive to other people, and I'm sorry as Hell about that.

But instead of losing my focus, I my hand through a wall and a garage door, and then put it out all on a page. And where I'm at now, I have an idea of where I'm heading. I haven't had a reason to smile in a long time, and now I do. I'm not afraid of failure, and I don't care how anyone perceives me to be anymore; I've been as honest as I could be. I'll extend my hand to anyone, and be there for anyone, period. If that's not enough, well then I wish you luck.

My heads on straight for the first time. And I realized this person existed forever, I just ignored it because I couldn't get over myself (Yes, you were right. You know who you are.) He definitely existed when I felt so hopeless. He existed and I didn't even know it, when he picked up the phone and decided on my behalf that I needed help.

I can't wait for a brand new day.

-Until tomorrow.

Come on and wash these shores away. (Day 115)

Last night was a lot of fun. I've been working on not getting bummed anymore like I used too, or how I used too. I've been working on saying "yes" to life basically, and I'm loving absolutely every single second of it.

I'm the happiest I've ever been. I'm getting to know myself for the first time in 23 year, and I actually don't hate me. It's a learning process I can't wait to keep doing.

I ate at Ihop this morning on ASU campus, and I realized that that's where I would be this time next year, and I got extremely excited. I'm so ready to go learn, and meet new people, and have some fucking fun.

Last night was pretty cool though. We, my friends Arleen and Richard, went to a bar for a karaoke night, downed a bunch of Jager bombs and a few beer and straight Jager chasers and just rolled with everything that was coming along.

We wound up hanging out for a few hours and just taking it all in. We almost sang Green Day's Longview,but wound up deciding to leave before our turn because the place was pretty much not worth sticking around.

But while sitting outside drinkign with strangers that felt like life long friends, I discovered many things:

A) I for some reason was funny.
B) Seasame Street not only teaches you book smarts, but street smarts as well.

Snuffy was always coming down, Big Bird had campy racist undertones, Grover sold "Qu" like he was sling rocks and there was a two for one deal going on "because you can't have q without the u."

Oscar wasn't a grouch, his "friends" were just pricks who never gave a shit. Bert and Ernie weren't gay, they just did a lot of Ecstacy.

So I think that's pretty much all I've got for right now. I'll be giving more in depth tomorrow, but I just wanna take a chill and watch American Dad and chat with my pal.

I hope everyone had an awesome weekend. Stay classy.


-Until tomorrow.

Truth be told I miss you...truth be told I'm lying. (Day 114)

Bare with me, it's been a long and fun weekend. This has been the first chance I've had at an update so I'm gonna post a few tonight. Two actually.


So Spring is upon us, and new love is in the air. Case in point, my cat Rizzo now has his first girlfriend. Now he doesn't have the kitty equipment necessary for reproducing, but I've been assured he can still lay pipe.

Her name is Emma, and they took to each other right away. The reason why this is so outstanding is that he's never been an outside cat. When I was outside petting this stray because she was so friendly, he stepped out a little bit and she and he hit it off. So I shut the screen door after having come back in. A few minutes later I hear the sound of what would seem like it was a screen door opening.

That can't be, I thought. And sure enough, when I turned around they were working together to have her come in the house.

They cuddled for the rest of the afternoon. Every time I tried to take her back outside, he would hiss at me. He's not an aggressive animal by any nature. He's certainly never hissed at me before. So there's that. My little guy is growing up. I'm a bit jealous, but whatever. Don't hate the player, don't hate the game, hate the hate, right?

She breaks his heart though, she's going to a no kill shelter in Mesa, far away from him.


In other news, my mother has been hospitalized for the better part of the weekend. She had some pretty severe kidney stones. It got to the point where she was bleeding non-stop and in constant pain. It got to the point where she has two very large stones in one kidney, and an even larger stone in the other.

There was a chance she could actually die during the procedure, but I kind of knew she would be ok. She can only have one procedure per kidney, and the other massive stone, they have to borrow equipment from another hospital because it's simply too large to be blown up.

I wasn't going to come to Mesa until my dad pretty much forced me too, because we knew she'd be fine. I felt realy scared for her, but as of this afternoon she's back at home. She still will be dealing with this for a bit, but everything will be fine. I know it.

I don't know what I'd do if she did die. I mean, I know it's werid to out and out say that, but speaking in terms outside of myself, I'm not sure how my father would take it. She's been his biggest saving grace in life. They really are meant to be together, and it's just awesome to see, honestly. Not many people get much of a second chance, let alone several others on top of that. But through the muck and mire they found each other.

It's Spring now.


Anything can happen.



-Until tomorrow.