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| Saturday, February 16th, 2008 | | 12:46 pm |
Today I lost an old friend
I had hoped to always find you randomly For our wild fits of revelry And pondering. I wish I could have brought you comfort once again.. Be at peace sweet friend. (Dana Sowers 1981-2007)  | | Sunday, December 26th, 2004 | | 5:05 pm |
x-mas is: family gambling, dog sweaters, LOTR risk, driving, mountain dew, the whisky heart of kzoo
I'm still near the peak of happiness. I blame, in part, a brutal two hours discussion on our Buddhist natures I had w/ Sara on the way back from Detroit. Being mindful does a lot for me, but mostly it is a highlighter noting all the caring family/friends I have and how so many millions in the world have to live in little versions of hell. I also blame my happy-halo on modern conviences (Netflix and PS2), a commited girlfriend w/ idiosyncratic pets, a fantastic business partner, thoughtful employees, and a remarkable coffee shop soon to turn one year old. RS customers have been really warm and giving these holidays. I don't mean tips so much (though those have been great too) but a warmer chattines that suggests they really appreciate us being there. Soon Josh D. will be here and everything will be right w/ the world (of Kalamazoo). I think the architects of american holidays do a really brilliant job timing these things for our psychological benefit. The way x-mas and new years fall smack in the middle of our darkest months, essentially breaking our mopey time in half. By the time the x-mas lights come down and you're done being distracted w/ what you're doing for the holidays, there's only a few short months left of bitterly cold darkness. I've done an informal survey and i find that after the build-up to the holidays people are eager to return to their day to day schedules. We're so comfortable w/ our habitual routines. | | Friday, December 10th, 2004 | | 6:42 am |
| | Sunday, September 5th, 2004 | | 4:35 am |
the fall of emo
tonight was fun. i'm not going to tell my secrets- good places to hang on saturdays or good people to hang out w/ because then everyone will try and nab them. Selfish sure. Vice magazine is funny for its so-over-the-top-its-inverted superficialism. In 30 months I'll be 30. Sure its just numbers but i've got shit to do before then. Strangest crew in TRS tonight (at 4am), including a gun toating ten year old. First official 4am rush tonight. Andy needed back up. I was predicting a particuarly emo autumn for Kalamazoo, what with everyone freshly broken up and all, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe everyone will fall into other things or will become ok w/ being single before the leaves start to change. | | Thursday, June 10th, 2004 | | 4:29 pm |
brighter sides to life and I should know because i've seen them (but not very often)
I think the next movies we'll show at TRS will be clockwork orange and the warriors. They're slightly cliche` but I would love to watch them late at night in the summer. We'll probably try an outdoor movie night after we finish our side patio. I'm not so perturbed that I can't seperate a journal about me from a journal about TRS. I love being entertwined with such a business. The first thing I've done to follow my bliss outside TRS is to get wrapped up with sara b. She is very lovely and has answers for all of my random questions. Sometimes she plays video games with me but mostly its eating, talking, movie watching, and after work resting. I'd be a lot crazier w/out sara b. for reals. The second thing I've done to follow my bliss outside work is to get wrapped up in a band again. I buy my set next week. We'll be touring with Interpol next year. Also: when playing Scrabble, is it ok to play short words somewhere as a way of blocking your opponent from using the triple word score during their turn? I think so. | | Thursday, March 11th, 2004 | | 5:34 am |
not necessarily epiphanic ideas apropos to nothing
I. through one lens (one which I'm usually looking through) life is a pendulum of desire and then guilt for fulfilling the desire. somtimes there's less guilt than others, for various reasons. II. moving towards human progress is like trying to go up or down in space; depending on who's driving, the right direction will always seem different. if there is any such thing as progress, then it implies a course we "should" be following. And if the implication of that "should" is correct than a host of other things is implied including absolute truths, right & wrong, etc. What disturbs me most, for some reason, is that so many millions of people could think they're doing the correct thing to advance humanity towards progress but could actually be going down instead of up. I'm struck by the fact that some vast portions of society might be wrong in how they try to serve the greater good and in the energy they're putting into that wrong turn. I could elaborate but I'll instead take this rare livejournal moment to say I'm 27 now and so, so happy. thanks again to every face I've seen in the rocketstar | | Sunday, February 8th, 2004 | | 1:18 am |
Dangerously lucky Atomic Ace
something about crazy richard the cowboy sitting at my coffee bar this morning really made me enthusiastic and giddy. Its a combo of emotions thats been a long time in coming. As I venture out from my hole of all business all the time I'm bound to stumble onto these peaks now and again. There's just something about eccentrics, that, once you stop pitying them or looking for reasons to be bothered by them, makes them the meat and potatoes of life; the individuals who won't blend into the crowd shots of my cinematic mind. This Richard is older and has had his days of beach sleeping in california. (Maybe hearing his discursive talk delights me because when i was a little younger I was particuarly into the beats and their culture. Beatnicks are a group that grew old very youthfully and playfully, albeit sometimes immaturely. Its this culture that brought me to love the coffee shops of detroit and its fitting that this culture should fill the walls of my coffee shop via true vessles who've lived the life like cowboy richard.) He is articulate and wild-eyed/ brilliant and non-sensical. He knows every drug in the book because he's been in the mental health system for so many years- he knows which drugs cause paralysis, which are good for hypnosis and which imbibe him with the powers of telepathy and out of body travel. His painting will hang in our bathroom for a short time- its not terrible compositionaly- its simply the digits 7698 very large. I'll hear the story of its origins soon enough. Other people who've excited me w/ their presence recently: Tony- an exuberant, deaf 10 year old who had lots to tell me with his hands Avery- mark's baby who couldn't stop staring, pointing and smiling at me. We drifted around the shop together for an hour, pausing to take in the things that really caught his eye; usually art or napkins. April- quite real when it gets down to it Emily- wracking my intellect about all the major issues, always when my mind is at is most inept sleepiness. | | Friday, February 6th, 2004 | | 2:22 am |
| | Monday, January 5th, 2004 | | 10:54 pm |
| | Thursday, December 11th, 2003 | | 1:06 am |
Festering Love
Devastated by betrayal after betrayal, I've also found a lot of golden, virtuous people this week. Its one of those- "people really are good" moments. I have a festering love for The RocketStar and I hope it will be off the ground soon. | | Monday, November 24th, 2003 | | 5:45 am |
Life's Rich Pageant
..Aloof at a social gathering, legs crossed, ankle on knee, holding a martini glass, carmel in my mouth, reading someone's copy of The Stranger and listening to Biz MarkE ..Rollerskating w/ friends in a small dingy, day-glo rink, forgoten for fifteen years ..Waiting in communist era lines for Grilled Stuft Burritos while chatting philosophical ..Emergency room again- for someone else this time- listening to pleasant Barouqe music at 2am and vomit splashing into a plastic pail ..Wrestling all night w/ floor sanders, stubborn vinyl tiles, finishing nails and floor glue while listening to Cat Power, Stereo Lab and REM ..Annoyed at noisy college bar, pining always for girl's attention ..Playing UNO w/ twenty year olds at old stand-by coffee shop while rain drips off awning outside ..Mumbling at strangers on the warm, pre-dawn streets, then driving away w/ a car full of laughter ..Pacing through a party, being bitten in the kitchen, dancing alone, unaware of underage girl in red satin bra puking through her braces on the couch behind me ..living, utterly broke, in the only city I'm comfortable in, undeterred and ecstatic   | | Friday, November 14th, 2003 | | 2:51 pm |
| | Tuesday, November 11th, 2003 | | 6:00 pm |
My favorite stolen halloween pics.
 You can't see her rollerskates  I was the very famous Bob Harris, seen here delivering his trademark line: "For a relaxing time, make it a Suntory time"  Me and VanGogh  No, Naoko is not an angel; she's your favorite feminine hygiene product. This is before the red wine incident.  Good photos Mr. King Soon I'll be stealing Freeze-o-Ween pics again. | | Sunday, November 9th, 2003 | | 7:17 am |
bang
I was really feeling the music around 4am. The jams were eight years old, and had not been heard since except by this employee of the gas station/Buddy's restaraunt. I asked her to please turn it up- I'd been infused w/ glee- perhaps it came from all the reststop food, or perhaps from the sense that I'd just dodged a bullet. I was dancing, eating my microwaved pizza rolls (a whole box) from a paper Coca-cola cup. I'd also consumed donuts, coffee and Mt. Dew. My six friends, all stranded w/ me inside the neon island, were a little more run down after our many hours of dancing in Ann Arbor. They had reddness in their eyes when they looked up from their pillows of folded arms. My friends are pretty entertaining and being stranded w/ them isn't really like being stranded at all- I refused to leave early with Chet, the tow-truck guy, because driving around w/ disgruntled insomniacs isn't fun unless they're your friends. The deer that we collided w/ earlier had smashed my windshield and devestated my front end, leaving chucks of fur under the wipers and pieces of flesh caught on the edges of my crumpled hood. There was even a deer tooth embeded above my crushed headlight. Naoko and Merideth had to run down the frigid highway (16 F) in bare feet because they'd been napping during impact. They didn't have time to put on their shoes after Simon yelled "get away from the car"; we'd seen some flames casting light from under the car onto the road. Simon later went back for the girls' shoes. I still had some enthusiasm for the night by the time Lauren and Rosie came to our rescue. It was a fast, comfortable hour drive home from there. My worst injury of the night had been suffered, hours earlier, while doing the worm in a crowded Blind Pig. Also, Erin, "the internet girl", wins something for dealing so well on her first night out with us- even amongst all the drama and turmoil. | | Tuesday, October 28th, 2003 | | 2:31 am |
Looking into the Sun
I've been able to focus fiercely on my t.v. viewing and video game skills recently in a pure, precise way I've never been able to before. Always these hobbies have been heavily polluted with a sense of self destruction or procrastination. The fact that we're developing my dream project (slowly/surely) on the side of these past times allows me to disregard any feelings of wastefulness while I spend stacked hours of bliss improving my strategy at WarCraft III or in the clutches of "I love the 80s" and "The Restaurant". Still in the midst of all this euphoric passiveness I've mustered the energy: to sit beside rail thin guys with cave man hair who are wearing only underoos and a leash held by their stripper girlfriends who have muscular arthritis and suffer pain when touched (though you'd never guess by watching her), to ride in vans through autumn colored country sides where shattered barns sprout grey vines through their gapping holes the way hair grows from old man ears, to accompany Bay to metal garage shows where everyone wears prosthetic injuries and where the band requires a scolding from my friend for their nazi leanings, to make two trips to the ER (once for persistant vomiting and once for stepping on a nail) where I had to endure the pratteling of angry young men with wired shut jaws, to drink chocolate martinis with Naoko and friends and then dance unenthusiastically in the cages of Tradewinds It is a wonderful life when I have only to worry about telepathic monkeys and whether the Pixies reunion will suck. | | Wednesday, October 15th, 2003 | | 2:31 pm |
Shame O' Ween
I've been laying in bed with SARS, mono and some intestinal demon. They gave me epic dreams about ex-girl friends,zombie hunting and highschool. Meanwhile my partners worked on the coffee shop below me.  Brian and Greg think about stuff.  Brian and Dan look at stuff.  This is what most of the hammering was about; Brian and Micah framed the entire back room nicely. Dry wall has to wait till friday though.  This room will be black and red mostly; the floor is going to take a lot of work as there are layers upon firmly attatched layers.  Brian and Dan look at and/or think about stuff. The blue wall behind them will be mostly green.  We don't have signs yet- where those starburst are will be a nice piece of art, probably by Ethan. There's a new commercial (for digital cameras I think) which uses The Cure's "Pictures of You" and my natural reaction is to feel contempt for "artists" who've gone corporate. But my friend Naoko, who I have unwavering respect for (even if she did pressure me to eat pizza while demons possessed my intestines and even though she says Magnolia is entirely rediculous)- her natural response to the commercial is "its so good". Which returns me to the tired old dichotomy of artless advertising vs artsy advertising. My friend Simon was the first one I remember articulating the right for advertisers to make quality commericals, and the benefit of consumers having not to endure redundant, insulting ads. This particular defense of arts (i.e. the musicians right to sell out) seems well backed by my immediate generation, and it makes sense until I remember that guy bald guy Tim who solicited me in the park about joining his pyramid scheme. When I sat down w/ that desperate guy and his eerie, hollow eyed, wife, I felt so much revulsion as they told me about how I'd need to recruit other friends to get ahead and in the same breath they told me about the network of friends I'd meet in the company who'd help me along. Pyramid schemes are so insidious because they turn every natural friendship into a consumer-merchant interaction. Tim and his wife have most certainly blurred each friendship they once had with a chance to make money; I suspect that's why they look so sad. Worse is that they may not realize how insidious their work is; rather they see their ability to mix friendly business practices w/ business like friendships as a testament to their good salesmanship. In a way this is what many artists are doing, (sure it makes all kinds of sense for the Cure, being a classic, coveted band w/ a sort of cult following that spans generations and yet they're a band that is somewhat forgotten. As the fall rolls around and the comercial starts playing- people want to hear their old Cure alblums and think about their ex's but they can't find the albums and so go to Walmart) The Cure and others are turning the trusted relationship they once had with their fans into marketing based relationships. That is a band's sentiment which starts with "thanks for supporting our music by coming to our show and buying our album" becomes "we're glad you feel something in our music; we can use that feeling to better convince you to buy a lawn chair". Its too much to say artists "shouldn't do it"; but its not to much to say they shouldn't be celebrated for it. It is dirty. So shame on the cure, modest mouse, ween, the orb, missy elliot, nick drake, bob dylan, jack kerouac, etc. I'm not polishing or spell checking this little tirade, but perhaps I'll have a chance to clearify in my responses. [Pizza Hut tried to get ween to do commercials long before Civic did; all of Ween's suggested adds for the new folded over pizza were riddled with profanity and bizzarness with lyrics like "hey, where'd the motherfuckin cheese go?" Pizza Hut didn't use them. | | Thursday, October 9th, 2003 | | 6:56 pm |
Coffee begins where Tanning ends
how a coffee shop looks after tearing the tanning salon aspects out and before you put in the coffee machine  The front room, floor mostly sanded, walls mostly primed.  From the very back: pool tables and video games and movies go in tomorrow  From this side of the room you can see into our basement a bit: fight club  One of the three bathrooms- we'll probably take out the moped.  My friends who live above the coffee shop w/ me | | Thursday, October 2nd, 2003 | | 12:59 am |
A Tattle tale (or day 3 of 8 in Ms. Rybarzicks class)
Talking to a class of 3rd graders is to talk through a sticky web of interfearance where all of your words and wisdom are caught up on the barbs of incessant tattling. The kids never do anything particuarly bad, but they constantly tell on each other as if they'd just witnessed the crime of the century. And this is how they find meaning, by maintaining law and justice in the presence of a substitute teacher, who is essentially, a symbol opposing all thing normal and regular within their day. Even Faisal, who does not speak a word of english, and clearly should have more support in the classroom has learned to communicate the tattle by pointing urgently towards the offending student and then towards the crime- whether it be a broken pencil or a line drawn on his paper. However, to say "no tatteling" is to introduce an entirely new and more powerful pandemonium into the room, wherein their daily system is not simply set askew, but wholly inverted. To say "no tattling" is to say "no thinking thoughts" or "no breathing". It makes them immediately question the limits of their new lawless universe, thus forcing me to exchange my previous edict with something more complicated, something which punishes both the tattler and the tattled upon(the latter more severely). This is a gordian knot in child logic; they now see a way to get an accused peer in twice as much trouble, which makes them tremble with joy, but it is essentially a paradox since they can't possibly condemn themselves in the proccess. Therefor, they become frustrated quite nearly to tears and ultimately we must go back to where we began, to a simpler kind of chaos. | | Saturday, September 27th, 2003 | | 8:54 pm |
Support your ceiling Mr. Pisces
Overnight my home acquired cable, a computer, my old cat, and some internet. I've never had a computer in my home since I've been on Livejournal. Expect frequent and facinating updates. The coffee shop has long way to go; we had an inspector in tonight (not thee actual inspector, but a friend of Dan's from out of town). He said our floor would be easy to support and fix up but that we'll have to put in some more supports for our ceiling. If I read a somewhat accurate horoscope a month ago, it would have said something like: You will take on a new and consuming project this month. New employment opportunities will spring up. Some close friends will move away to places like bolivia and boston but you'll probably make a few new friends, who invariably won't quite measure up. You'll continue to wade through your complex of growing old in a transient, college town; but eventually you'll wade out of the complex towards exceptance. Keep looking for peers closer to your age to bring you peace of mind. You'll have some nice meetings w/ family. In one instance a family member will put great effort into trying to lick you. In another instance a family member will buy you a Japanese dinner and peach martini. Romance will be all around you but you'll only make a few clumsy passes at it. You will find great fame on the hip-hop circuit. | | Wednesday, September 17th, 2003 | | 1:59 am |
The first day
Last night-knocked down walls, pulled up carpet, pulled nails out of things, listened to hip-hop and ate pizza. There was lots of debate/discussion about which beams were actually holding up our building and about what to do with our floor. Just as the conflict was coming to its pinnacle we discovered ureka- there is a 1930s hardwood floor beneath the linolium and plywood.. --- ___ ---- Last Saturday-went to the greatest dance event of my life at the Blind Pig in Ann Arbor. |
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