well now, this will probably be the last post of the year. ah le petite blog.

i wanna take this time to talk about the two books that have occupied my november and december. the first being Lolita and the second House of Leaves. both books sent me into a trauma similar to being sucked underwater and held there until your lungs drown and your brain compresses. either that, or altitude sickness. ...the tomes flung me between altitudinal extremes, and whether high or low, it seemed to expand my horizons; now i can see further than before. i have a greater understanding of boundaries, or lack thereof. the alpha and omega seem now just constructs that easily can be eschewed. sound fun?

now here's the problem with living outside of a perimeter: it's like dreaming in black. say you had a dream, and all you dreamt was black. are you dreaming? how do you remember something without a line of demarcation? these thoughts just permeated my every winter thought, and was perpetuated by my marked propensity for imbibing liquor during the cold (disambiguated) season. and i'll tell you what, it was kinda shitty.

so now i'm reading some good ol' Malcom Gladwell. but, guess what? come the end of the aughts, i'm starting Infinite Jest. take that!

but, seriously, read House of Leaves. you must read it 2 minutes ago. the place it took me to/left me at is like a mobius strip of a Lynchian creepshow mixed with Gabriel Garcia Marquez. i lent it to a friend and i feel like i amputated a phantom limb or something, i miss holding it (it weighs about 4 lbs, 726 pages).

new years eve party coming up. i'm gonna play music for it. started Miss Julie rehearsals today, and that is going to prove challenging and fun, more than i anticipated it to be. though, the lack of organization of the rehearsal process seems a little odd. i think i'm gonna have to come in with a lot more commitment and ideas with this, even though i'm barely on stage. Shrew is almost over, and all in all it was a pretty fun time. the days where i wasn't hopped up on caffeiene or nicotine were the best ones for that show. they are always the best ones... i havent' had coffee in a while, and that really makes me feel great. course, i havent gotten all fucked up in a while.

paint the black hole blacker.

on the road, i've seen fire and i've seen rain, three tall women, and...derryl strawberry.

moving on: the show is well into its 3rd week and is continuing to deepen and strengthen. but, not on my part. i'm stuck in some state of thinking where the only justification for my character is that he his mentally challenged. how else can you justify any of these lines or beatings? it's the only thing that makes sense to me. i can't fucking stand staring at everyone else on stage when in reality my character has no clue who anyone is or what anyone is doing. i'd love to get a collection of people who have been on stage in act v scene -whatever- and had no lines, and collectively decide how best to approach long runs of those scenes. it's damn near impossible for me to justify that. i guess the onus falls on me to figure that out, but i still think it's irritating; though perhaps its just been because the last two shows i've had no lines in the final 'stand off'.


some facts:
i was born on the same day as jack karoauc, james taylor, edward albee, and derryl strawberry.

muse is apparently touring in the US and its already sold out.

i'll be playing a servant in 'miss julie'.

no one should ever cover 'landslide'

the measure of success is still, i beileve, immeasurable.

the harmonics in 'mayonaise' make me smile.


running makes me feel better than anything.

accept change, accept differences, accept your faults are the faults in others as well.

bread that tears up the roof of your mouth is usually the most delicious bread.

weezer: it's like the difference between meeting a really smart, funny girl at a bar and striking up a personal conevrsation with her for 45 min.and then 5 years later after dating and breaking up with her, seeing her at a strip club, dancing with dead eyes around a pole to def lepard for 45 min. the former being Pinkerton, the latter being Maladroit --> Raditude

oh, hey!

special shout out this week to the pixies and tommy wiseau , who have made my life infinitely better this week. be it black francis' achingly confrontational display of raw emotion or tommy's remarkably droll and lackluster display of raw emotion, these two figures of entertainment inspire me and give me a reason to continue with life.

tanks.