It’s funny…I always think of the stereotypical, recently divorced husband, and think to myself “I’ll never end up like that”. I’ll never “go back” to living on canned food, messy rooms, or general unkemptness if I ever split up with a long-term girlfriend or wife. So I try to live my life the same if I’m in a relationship or not, and not depend on someone else to do things for me, by being healthy and clean when I’m not going out with someone.

Then I realize that there are already things that Loo does for me that I wouldn’t do myself. I don’t have the patience to make my bed, but she can’t stand to sleep in wrinkled sheets, so she makes the bed every day. She buys fresh vegetables, because I always purchase the easy-to-cook frozen ones. Can I go back to living without little sweet peppers packed with my lunch, or without someone to brush the cat hair from my clothes as I get dressed for work? How much of ourselves do we knowingly or willingly give away, when we accept the help of others?

This morning, the sky was ashen grey, and the pavement turned blacker. It all reminded me of night, when the sunset just passes, and the night-time healing can begin. Except this was morning, and the rain washed the world before it had woken up.

Sometimes I ask questions that others consider to be stupid. That’s usually because I don’t make any assumptions, and the last thing that I want to do is offend or annoy someone. For example, I may ask to use the bathroom if I’m a guest at someone’s house. Some people give me a look as if I’ve just asked them to take a dump on my chest, then they give me a slow, exaggerated “yeeeees” in a tone that makes the answer seem like it should be an extremely obvious thing. To them, the point is obvious; I’m a friend, and of course I can use the facilities. It’s something that they feel I shouldn’t have to ask. But I have no idea whether or not someone is uncomfortable about me using a certain bathroom cause it’s dirty (which has happened in the past), or whether one of the bathrooms is out of order (something I’d rather avoid before I find out too late), or even if they’re trying to cross-breed bankeys by confining bats and monkeys in an ensuite and hoping they mate (which I assume will never happen). Usually, just going for the bathroom is not a chance I’m willing to take, as with many other things. I’d rather ask first, because there’s the chance that I may make a step out of place (and in cases like these, it’s better to not step than to backtrack). But when people start treating me like I’m stupid for asking these questions, sometimes I feel like just saying, “fuck it”, and not worrying about the consequences.

When taking a sample of progressive metal fans, one will find that the subset is almost entirely comprised of males, most of which are much taller than the average Asian guy. This makes it extremely difficult for the average Asian guy to see the band during progressive metal concerts, which was the case during the Dreamtheater show on Wednesday. As can be seen from the picture, I went up to most of the other peoples necks. Although there was the chance to go straight up front since there was no mosh pit (cause who can mosh to music that changes time signatures every other bar?), the area was too densely packed to get anywhere.

At first I thought that the crowd was mostly made up of the same “type” of people, but Trolley pointed out that he’s never been to a show that was more diverse. All I saw were lots of blond, Caucasian males, but he only saw lots of differently aged people. And it was true…while there were an extremely limited number of females in attendance (although I’m sure that Anj was there), there were also people from my age to twice my age. It was odd to see a lot of guys old enough to be my father at the same concert as me.

There was no opener because their set went for almost three hours. They first performed for an hour and a half, and came back for three encores. One of the encores was the entire 45 minute long track on their Six Degrees Of Inner Turbulance album with no pauses. I’ve also never seen a band measure time like they do when performing live: somehow they manage to count their rests with perfect timing when the lights go out. Even though this is done on the album version of Endless Sacrifice, the impressive thing is that they have different tempos for their shows. Most other bands need a cymbol hit to keep time (like what Manson does during Antichrist Superstar at the Hartford show), and it’s always a dissapointment to find out that a band can’t count notes in their heads.

Portnoy’s drumset owned half the fucking stage.

There’s a running joke between the members of DT, where they replace lyrics of their songs with “you can eat my ass and balls”. I first found out from the Metropolis 2000 DVD, when they all jokingly sing it instead of “there can be no peace of mind” during behind-the-scenes the commentary. At one point during the Wednesday’s concert, LaBrie replaces “take me as I am” with “eat my ass and balls” and I had to burst out laughing. Then I noticed that no one else was laughing.

Dear Josie from Hot 89.9,

It is seven in the morning. Your abhorrent voice and grating personality serve as a reminder of how tired I am. I would very much like to punch you in the face.

—jeff