Went through a small par 3 nine-hole course with Aaron on the weekend. I couldn’t hit a single good shot off the tee (the holes are in the 100 yard range so all tee-offs were done with irons), but my pitching is fucking spot on. I love the feeling of grazing tall grass with a half-swing and seeing the ball make a perfect arch to the green.

I can feel my game coming together, but almost all of my problems are mental, just like my bad iron hits off the tee (I uncontrollably lift my knees on the downswing to avoid getting under the ball too much). I need to relax, loosen my grip, and pace my swing better, all when hitting the ball counts. I’ve gotten to the point where stance and address come naturally, so it’s good to know that all the summers I spent at the driving range actually helped. Unfortunately, I’m still choking down to the edge of the grip, even after having my clubs shortened about two inches.

I must have been getting a good 250 yards off Aaron’s new titanium driver, something I could never do with my steel shafts. Even though it makes me slice like crazy, it must have been the most satisfying club ever to use. It’s light, it’s responsive, it has a gigantic head, AMAZING torque, and it gives a loud, full, resonating chime on connection. I think it’s time for a new set, maybe some sweeeeeeeeeeet Japanese brand titanium shafts, like the ones I had the chance to use while in Hong Kong. The next purchase will be a decision between those and a DV cam, and that’ll be the end of my luxury spending. Honestly.

I’ve been giving Down and Superjoint Ritual a chance, and it’s weird to be listening to Phil Anselmo’s vocals against a sound that’s not quite Pantera. In the song Beautifully Depressed, he actually sings with vibrato. It’s a resonating vibrato, but very gradual and deep, sort of like Mandy Patinkin with a shot of valium and an injection of testosterone. The fact that he does a decent job of it completely throws me off. The fact that quite a few SJR songs have punkish roots causes further confusion, just like Ministry’s punkish contribution to the Rock Against Bush album. It’s like listening to the latest No Motiv album and then realizing that the bassist is now the drummer. On top of that, he’s Asian and better than the old drummer.

Speaking of which, going through No Motiv’s earlier albums has been a fairly enjoyable task. They’re comprised of songs which aren’t as complex as Daylight Breaking, but they’re catchy nonetheless. Unfortunately, It hasn’t been the same with Thrice, especially with their first album Identity Crisis. I can tell that they had some great technical ideas, but when actually putting pen to paper and recording it in the studio, the sound is rough, almost experimental.

It’s hard going backwards for bands. I’m glad I discovered Dreamtheater as soon as Scenes From A Memory came out. I don’t like much of what they did before that (aside from Space Dye Vest, which is one of my favourite songs of theirs), so it’s scary to think of what more I wouldn’t like if I discovered them even later. I thought that Scenes From A Memory was going to be their best work, but somehow they managed to improve in every single progressive (no pun intended) album. Thrice doesn’t fare so well, of course, as I’ve been spoiled by their latest, excellently produced album, The Artist In The Ambulance. It’s makes their earlier stuff sound untested and lazy.

I can’t fall back asleep. I’m still on holiday schedule, which is all about staying up late and taking naps, not being in bed by ten then waking up halfway through the night. Six fresh mosquito bites don’t help the sleeping process either.

Anyway, what I meant to say is that I’m grateful to have this when life proves to be a little too overwhelming and I prove to be all too human. When there’s no one else to turn to for some reason or another. When Beth’s vocals or orchestral pop noir romantique don’t help, or help enough.

It’s good to know that I have something, and sometimes I have to remind myself of that.

I just realized that years of wearing school uniforms, and the associated freedom from having to decide what to wear, has made me fashion challenged. Anything I wear is hit or miss, and I always have a hard time distinguishing between the two. There are tons of things I just can’t pull off, but not being able to actually see that actually makes such a fact important.

I finally have some time to catch up on my blogroll. The hiatus has given me a fresh perspective on the blogs that I read, and I’m starting to understand why I actually read them in the first place. Most authors are just plain interesting, and their blogs offer a glimpse into the lives of people with distinct personalities. The most interesting ones are by intelligent people with lifestyles I’ve never been through. However, there’s a fair share of authors whose lives are so sad that they’re amusing, and their blogs are so pathetic that they’re humorous. These are the people who write because they think they’re important, and fill their entries with the most trite, sequacious crap.

And it’s made me wonder, especially after having reached an average of 200 daily visits last month, which of the two types this blog fits into for other people when they read.