It's been a while
I haven't blogged here in a while. I figured I should. So I will.
At tonight's practice, PMF finally decided as a unit what the "Guillotine of Fire" CD packaging will be, how many CDs we will have pressed, and what the song order will be. That's quite an accomplishment since we basically spent the last month or two arguing over these issues and many others. Sometimes we are a five-headed monster that bites itself. But in the end I guess that's healthy. It's healthy to bite yourself. Try it. Now just imagine if you had five heads.
There's a mosquito buzzing around in here somewhere as I type this. It was making me itch just thinking of the mosquito. But now I think I have a handle on it. I am not paranoid of being bitten by it. So it'll itch for a while. So what. It's like with bee stings. Why am I so paranoid around bees? It doesn't actually hurt that much when they sting you. And I'm not allergic. I guess it's just the idea of this small creature stabbing part of itself into me and then leaving that part inside me. Thank God I don't have a fetish for butt sex with leprous midgets! You can imagine how awkward that would be, with my fear of bees and all.
One of the coolest things I saw in 9th grade Spanish class was on a sunny day when we had the windows open, and this big-ass hornet flew into the classroom. It kept buzzing around the students, and most of them would just cringe and try to will the insect away with their minds, or they would swat at it in a half-hearted attempt to bat it away. The teacher just kept telling the students to sit still and ignore the hornet, and that it would go away. But then this one tough girl stood up - I think her name was Tennile (as in "The Captain and") - and she raised her Trapper Keeper high above her head, and with one mighty swing she knocked the hornet to the floor. As the dazed bug flopped around on its back trying to flip itself back over, Tennile leaped toward it and in one smooth move slammed her foot down on it. There was a satisfying crunch, and that was the end of the hornet. I must admit I was impressed by Tennile's killer instinct.
Switching gears.
I watched an old episode of Mr. Show the other day before work while I had my coffee and Life Cereal in the morning. The episode brought a smile to my face and put something on my mind other than the usual lack of desire to go to work. David Cross and Bob Odenkirk are probably my favorite comedy team of all time. But immediately after the show was over, I felt intensely jealous of those guys. I mean, they got the chance to create a hilarious TV show, and get paid for it. I sure would like a job along those lines. But I also read an interview with one of them where they said they really didn't get paid that much at the time, they worked their asses off, and even today neither one of them is really all that famous for it. I mean, they have comedy fans, but nowhere near the fanbase or riches of a dickwad like Tom Cruise or some other overhyped Hollywood asshole.
And they're getting old! Which lead me to wonder, am I getting old? How much longer before I hit the "big time" (whatever the fuck that means) or give up and realize I'll never measure up to my dreams? I was reading through my Found Magazine book a couple days ago, and one of the items was this list some lady made of things she looked for in a man. One of them said, "Doesn't have the Peter Pan syndrome." (It made me laugh because of her use of the word "the".) Do I have the Peter Pan syndrome? Will I reach age 40+ and still think," I could rock as hard as that band," or "I could be as funny as those guys," or "I could make an awesome movie like that." At what point do I become pathetic?
I guess the only point where I would become pathetic is if I gave up. So I won't give up. There. Problem solved.
Boy, that was a lot of typing just to get to that one point. I hope you didn't read all of this hoping for some sort of mind-blowing revelation at the end. Like in the Bible!
At tonight's practice, PMF finally decided as a unit what the "Guillotine of Fire" CD packaging will be, how many CDs we will have pressed, and what the song order will be. That's quite an accomplishment since we basically spent the last month or two arguing over these issues and many others. Sometimes we are a five-headed monster that bites itself. But in the end I guess that's healthy. It's healthy to bite yourself. Try it. Now just imagine if you had five heads.
There's a mosquito buzzing around in here somewhere as I type this. It was making me itch just thinking of the mosquito. But now I think I have a handle on it. I am not paranoid of being bitten by it. So it'll itch for a while. So what. It's like with bee stings. Why am I so paranoid around bees? It doesn't actually hurt that much when they sting you. And I'm not allergic. I guess it's just the idea of this small creature stabbing part of itself into me and then leaving that part inside me. Thank God I don't have a fetish for butt sex with leprous midgets! You can imagine how awkward that would be, with my fear of bees and all.
One of the coolest things I saw in 9th grade Spanish class was on a sunny day when we had the windows open, and this big-ass hornet flew into the classroom. It kept buzzing around the students, and most of them would just cringe and try to will the insect away with their minds, or they would swat at it in a half-hearted attempt to bat it away. The teacher just kept telling the students to sit still and ignore the hornet, and that it would go away. But then this one tough girl stood up - I think her name was Tennile (as in "The Captain and") - and she raised her Trapper Keeper high above her head, and with one mighty swing she knocked the hornet to the floor. As the dazed bug flopped around on its back trying to flip itself back over, Tennile leaped toward it and in one smooth move slammed her foot down on it. There was a satisfying crunch, and that was the end of the hornet. I must admit I was impressed by Tennile's killer instinct.
Switching gears.
I watched an old episode of Mr. Show the other day before work while I had my coffee and Life Cereal in the morning. The episode brought a smile to my face and put something on my mind other than the usual lack of desire to go to work. David Cross and Bob Odenkirk are probably my favorite comedy team of all time. But immediately after the show was over, I felt intensely jealous of those guys. I mean, they got the chance to create a hilarious TV show, and get paid for it. I sure would like a job along those lines. But I also read an interview with one of them where they said they really didn't get paid that much at the time, they worked their asses off, and even today neither one of them is really all that famous for it. I mean, they have comedy fans, but nowhere near the fanbase or riches of a dickwad like Tom Cruise or some other overhyped Hollywood asshole.
And they're getting old! Which lead me to wonder, am I getting old? How much longer before I hit the "big time" (whatever the fuck that means) or give up and realize I'll never measure up to my dreams? I was reading through my Found Magazine book a couple days ago, and one of the items was this list some lady made of things she looked for in a man. One of them said, "Doesn't have the Peter Pan syndrome." (It made me laugh because of her use of the word "the".) Do I have the Peter Pan syndrome? Will I reach age 40+ and still think," I could rock as hard as that band," or "I could be as funny as those guys," or "I could make an awesome movie like that." At what point do I become pathetic?
I guess the only point where I would become pathetic is if I gave up. So I won't give up. There. Problem solved.
Boy, that was a lot of typing just to get to that one point. I hope you didn't read all of this hoping for some sort of mind-blowing revelation at the end. Like in the Bible!