Monthly Archives: September 2002

Anger Management

I FOUND IT. I can’t believe I fuck­ing found it. By the slimmest chance, I was able to search on the skimp­i­est lyrics (I could bare­ly under­stand any­thing, the record­ing was so bad, so I went on “in all my dreams, I nev­er thought I’d see”) and found a ref­er­ence to it on a Portishead site. The thread had the title, Anger Management. A search for that end­ed up with an album by Nathaniel Merriweather called Lovage. It turns out that Nathaniel Merriweather is an alias for Dan the Automator, and the song on the album is called Anger Management. I was final­ly able to down­load an excel­lent qual­i­ty record­ing of the song. I guess I should sup­port the artist. I haven’t enjoyed a song this much since Dance of Eterniy by Dream Theater, which was in fuck­ing first year. It feels like this is my new song, an under­score track to my next phase. I’m proud of myself for find­ing such a rare song, and it’s even rar­er that I’m proud of myself.

Lyrics:

my inner demons com­pel me to be here
your cheeks are flush like rose petals
you’re con­sumed with rage but i’m con­sumed with you
our eyes inter­twine through the haze
intox­i­cat­ed by your blood­shot stare
in all of my dreams i nev­er thought i’d see
a face that could launch a thou­sand ships
and the music was like wind in your hair
the moon­light caressed your sil­hou­ette
the kiss of ocean mist is in the air
why must god pun­ish me this way
lay down my hand, the next move is yours
as you undress me with your frozen eyes
in all of my dreams i nev­er thought i’d see
an end­less love to share my blue lagoon
and the music was like wind in your hair
the moon­light caressed your sil­hou­ette
the kiss of ocean mist is in the air
why must god pun­ish me this way
hap­i­ness is hard to come by
but i’ve had my fair share
the satin sheets, the lemon peels
the minor keys, the major pills
we’ve climbed the moun­tain, saw the top
and plant­ed the apple seed
and can’t you see we could’ve had it all
and the music was like wind in your hair
the moon­light caressed your sil­hou­ette
the kiss of ocean mist is in the air
why must god pun­ish me this way
and the music was like wind in your hair
the moon­light caressed your sil­hou­ette
the kiss of ocean mist is in the air
why must god pun­ish me this way
why must god pun­ish me this way
this way, this way

Never Too Busy For You

I was final­ly able to fin­ish the page, and anoth­er one for my cousin. I think he needs one more than I do. It feels like a nev­er end­ing stream of projects, always this or that, that I’m work­ing on. I sent in my appli­ca­tion for Big Brothers today. Just anoth­er project to add to the list. If only I was as good at fin­ish­ing projects as I was good at start­ing them. It always seems like I’m con­stant­ly busy, yet always bored. I nev­er have time for this or that, yet some­times I just sit at desk, star­ing blankly at my flick­er­ing screen, won­der­ing what I should do. Perhaps it’s just a sign that I’m get­ting old­er. Another day, anoth­er dol­lar, anoth­er irre­place­able chunk of infi­nite­ly pass­ing life­time. I think I just need some more time to relax, and just relax. One time, I was in a cafe­te­ria, when I saw a girl, sit­ting by her­self at a table. She was del­i­cate­ly tak­ing tiny bites of a cher­ry toma­to, and was just sit­ting there, look­ing out the win­dow. Not read­ing, not talk­ing with a friend, not doing any­thing, while she ate. She seemed to be able to just relax, and calm her­self with all the com­mo­tion going on around her. I was extreme­ly attract­ed to her con­fi­dence, and wished that I could be like her, that I could have the abil­i­ty to just sit at a table by myself and just eat. Perhaps it will just take some more time.

Apparently, I’m nev­er too busy for me.

Continued Shower Entries

I should end off every night with a hot show­er, and the addi­tion of an entry. I swear, it’s like ther­a­py.

I’m still wait­ing for my iPod, which should be com­ing in this week. The idea of being able to bring my entire music col­lec­tion with me wher­ev­er I go is just too tempt­ing. That way, when I need a Tool song, I can sim­ply bring it up, instead of bring­ing a Tool CD, just in case. I love you already iPod.

I hap­pened to stum­ble upon a song appar­ent­ly called Dan Automator, by Tomahawk. There’s some­thing about this song that is just speak­ing to me right now. I can’t even under­stand 90% of the lyrics, but Mike Patton just does such a great job with bit­ter­sweet emo­tion on the lyrics. The melody is just so…wrenchingly trag­ic, yet dul­cet. The only prob­lem is that I’m pret­ty sure it’s not a Tomahawk song. I saw them in con­cert once, and they did­n’t sound any­thing like this. Also, there’s a DJ called Dan the Automator whom Mike Patton worked with as a side project, and it’s just not like­ly that Tomahawk would name a song (incor­rect­ly) after him. That and the fact that the Tomahawk discogra­phies nev­er men­tion Dan Automator as a track list­ing. I wish I could get the real name for this song, so I could give it the respect of a prop­er track list­ing. I’m sur­prized that I was able to hold off on an entry yes­ter­day. Usually when I start up a page again (I don’t like the word jour­nal, because it’s not, and half the time I’m just rant­i­ng about some­thing), I’ll just flood the data­base with entries, and it will slow­ly become less fre­quent as time goes on. Of course, when I have a girl­friend, I feel I can’t write any­thing at all. It’s like my page is a girl­friend, who just lis­tens to me hate so well, and nev­er ques­tions what I’m think­ing, or why I’m think­ing it. I love you too, you porce­lain faced web­page.

I was flip­ping through some fash­ion mag­a­zines, and read about an art exhib­it being held about the evo­lu­tions of fash­ion and styles. They men­tioned a bal­loon­ing-dress by a Japanese design­er as a wit­ty piece, and a per­fo­rat­ed-wing out­fit as breath­tak­ing. The art of fash­ion has always puz­zled me; it’s some­thing that I’m com­plete­ly igno­rant of, that I don’t think I will ever under­stand unless some­one explains it to me.

Certain Uncertainty

I was sort­ing through my e‑mail today, try­ing to clean up my inbox, when I stum­bled along a stash that threw me off guard. I did­n’t think that they would affect me in any way, but they did. I did­n’t even read them; the titles just threw me.

Without these titles, these scant few words, I’m fine, and I under­stand the way things are, and the way things have worked out. Everything is log­i­cal to me, and my mind func­tions as nor­mal. But when I see these words, my mind floods with mem­o­ries, thoughts, emo­tions. I get a glimpse of what could have been.

And then I real­ize that it’s just a sliv­er of a cross-sec­tion that takes almost noth­ing of the whole sit­u­a­tion into account. Or do I? Otherwise, I would be able to stop think­ing about it, and I could just let it rest.

And yet I can’t. The good thing is that it’s not an attempt at con­vinc­ing myself of what I would like to believe. I can be pret­ty sure about this, one of the few things in a world where I might be dream­ing.

Many times it’s not know­ing that I’m right that counts, it’s the oth­er per­son know­ing that they’re wrong.

I wish I was­n’t like this at all. But I am. There has been only one time that I did­n’t feel like I need­ed anoth­er par­ty to know that I was right. And it was because the truth was so obvi­ous­ly on my side, that argu­ing about it would have been triv­ial.

Writing about this has helped. I real­ize that any­thing, pic­tures; text; or just thoughts; can bring up ideas unpro­voked. The ideas may be good or bad, but they are one’s own. The under­stand­ing that they are just super­fi­cial ideas is the most impor­tant part. It’s com­ing to terms with these ideas that sets us free.

I’m pret­ty sure.