Sunday, June 28, 2009
editorial
In some respects, this is becoming more of a traditional blog as opposed to the repository of reluctant writings as was my original intent. I'm not entirely happy with this fact, but I don't have the energy to start yet another blog, and I need to vent this stuff.
I suppose there's no better place than reluctant.
I suppose there's no better place than reluctant.
The recent spate of celebrity deaths
While some part of me hopes that this is just a mass Darwinian shedding of useless Western pop culture, making way for a new and enlightened society of thoughtful and intelligent humans, I have to remember that banality keeps our minds from being overtaxed and overheated by the truly mindless day to day psychological trauma that evolution has done a piss poor job of rectifying (stoopit hoomans!). It's either pop culture or giant heat sinks on our foreheads, and I've got a wimpy neck.
Remembering Nick - Part 1
Nick was my best friend in high school. We had a falling out, and hadn't spoken since 1993. I found out recently that he passed away in 2005. It's been 16 years since we've talked, but he's always been a frequent visitor to my thoughts. I want to record here as many memories of him that I can remember.
Nick was my introduction to the world of Metal. In February 1989, within days of us becoming friends, he made me copies of a couple of Metallica tapes. I remember listening to them and thinking, "I have no idea what they're saying, but it's awesome!"
In our senior year of high school, Nick drove me to school every day after I moved to another part of town that took me outside of the range of school buses. He didn't have to. He would greet me every single morning with a "dude, we're gonna be so fucking late". A couple of smokes and a lot of thrash later, we would try sneaking into our 1st period class together (Mass Media). We were lucky to have a teacher who didn't hate us too much.
We used to work on that old green VW Bug of his. The thing barely had a floor. Actually, there was a huge hold in the floor, making for a precarious ride as a passenger (but it tossing cigs easy - poof! right through he floor!)
The car didn't have a stereo, but Nick had this cheap little tape player that we would scream out our metal tapes in. Metallica, Megadeth, SLayer, Anthrax, Testament - these were our staples, our sustenance. Blaring metal up and down the roads of COral Springs, finger-horns pumping, heads banging, lyrics squealed from tobacco tainted throats. We were the prototypical Wayne and Garth years before Wayne and Garth.
Nick and I learned early in our friendship that we were both unrepentant pyromaniacs and would (safely) set fire to things every chance we got.
The Bug requred a few shots of starting fluid to the carburetor to, well, start. This stuff is just pure ether and amazingly flammable. One night, we had the brilliant idea of spraying the bottoms of our shoes and lighting them on fire. Here we are, two crazy bastards dancing in the street, feet aflame, dancing about and leaving a path of fiery footprints behind us.
I would often get out of my last class earlier than Nick. We would all meet by his car: Nick's younger brother, Tony, his girlfriend, Kim and our mutual friend Rene. Oft-times, the car would be nowhere to be found because I would have moved it. I would pick up the car by the back bumper and drag it across the parking lot. I would always be greeted with a huge smile and a, "where's my car, asshole?"
Once when Nick and his brother Tony was over at my house, I was in my mother's room having an argument. When I came back to my room, the guys had taken all the crap on my floor and arranged it into a giant pentagram. This is why we were best friends. I forgot all about the argument, and we headed out to rock the streets.
Nick was my introduction to the world of Metal. In February 1989, within days of us becoming friends, he made me copies of a couple of Metallica tapes. I remember listening to them and thinking, "I have no idea what they're saying, but it's awesome!"
In our senior year of high school, Nick drove me to school every day after I moved to another part of town that took me outside of the range of school buses. He didn't have to. He would greet me every single morning with a "dude, we're gonna be so fucking late". A couple of smokes and a lot of thrash later, we would try sneaking into our 1st period class together (Mass Media). We were lucky to have a teacher who didn't hate us too much.
We used to work on that old green VW Bug of his. The thing barely had a floor. Actually, there was a huge hold in the floor, making for a precarious ride as a passenger (but it tossing cigs easy - poof! right through he floor!)
The car didn't have a stereo, but Nick had this cheap little tape player that we would scream out our metal tapes in. Metallica, Megadeth, SLayer, Anthrax, Testament - these were our staples, our sustenance. Blaring metal up and down the roads of COral Springs, finger-horns pumping, heads banging, lyrics squealed from tobacco tainted throats. We were the prototypical Wayne and Garth years before Wayne and Garth.
Nick and I learned early in our friendship that we were both unrepentant pyromaniacs and would (safely) set fire to things every chance we got.
The Bug requred a few shots of starting fluid to the carburetor to, well, start. This stuff is just pure ether and amazingly flammable. One night, we had the brilliant idea of spraying the bottoms of our shoes and lighting them on fire. Here we are, two crazy bastards dancing in the street, feet aflame, dancing about and leaving a path of fiery footprints behind us.
I would often get out of my last class earlier than Nick. We would all meet by his car: Nick's younger brother, Tony, his girlfriend, Kim and our mutual friend Rene. Oft-times, the car would be nowhere to be found because I would have moved it. I would pick up the car by the back bumper and drag it across the parking lot. I would always be greeted with a huge smile and a, "where's my car, asshole?"
Once when Nick and his brother Tony was over at my house, I was in my mother's room having an argument. When I came back to my room, the guys had taken all the crap on my floor and arranged it into a giant pentagram. This is why we were best friends. I forgot all about the argument, and we headed out to rock the streets.
notes
There is an afterlife. Each memory recalled spawns an entirely new lifespan and you exist withan that bubble of thought. Life is just a conglomeration of bubbles of thought.
To achieve immortality, live well enough to be remembered well.
To achieve immortality, live well enough to be remembered well.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Rainy day rambling from inconvient spaces
Burning is just a momentary feeling. You play you pay, that's just how
it goes, but the difficulty lies in choosing the games properly.
it goes, but the difficulty lies in choosing the games properly.
My games are the wrong games.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
notes
Nihilism belongs to the animals. I'm not a true nihilist; I believe that a momentary value structure is critical to the progress of a species, even if that progress is only towards nothingness. We're aware of the content and condition of moments, so we need to assign them some positive value, otherwise, we're just caught in the nihilistic animalism of existing rather than experience moments and living. We are alive and we breathe in moments and exhale experience.
That said, we're still next to nothing when compared with just about anything else. But the fact that we CAN know that is awesome.
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