Then I'll dig a tunnel, from my window to yours...
I was just about to go to sleep, at the lovely hour of 4:31 am, but I knew I wouldn't wake up with the inspiration to write. This weekend finds me relaxing in San Jose and enjoying all that comes with it. I bought the second season of Scrubs on DVD, and woke up from a random 3-hour nap 9pm to watch half of the first disc. There was even a productiveness to the day, as I went into work for a quick 4 hours (full days pay, beeatch) and finished up on a project that I started yesterday. I strolled in at 11:15, did what I had to do, and left just before 3 to catch the 3:20 Beerfest at the Union City Century 25. Super Troopers and Club Dread were still better, but funny nonetheless. At least I'll have an extra $100 in my next check to put in my savings account. I think tomorrow I'll head out on a bike ride, hit up the gym, spiff up my cover letter, hang with my visiting parents for awhile, and maybe visit a friend and catch up. Wow, tomorrow seems like a regular weekend schedule. It's funny, because I never realize how packed my weekends can get until I have one with little to no plans. Besides Bernard's party this last Friday (awesome, BTW-- I left $1 up on poker, played some mahjong, old Street Fighter 2 on SuperNES, and some garage ping-pong and got to kick it with the work homies), there's nothing that I have to wake up early or spend money for. I can just watch Scrubs with a bowl of grapes and update livejournal in some blue boxers and a Co&Cam shirt.
I guess this instance of inspriation came from a certain CD I had to re-buy today. I've lost so many CD's in the shuffle from Santa Cruz to Gonzales, Gonzales to Mexico, Mexico back to Gonzales, and Gonzales to San Jose. Now that most of my things are in a storage locker in Soledad, I can take an inventory in the things I need to replace. Lying in my room at my godfather's house, I can never enjoy the space. First of all, nothing besides the clothes on the floor belong to me. I don't have my own dresser drawer, and am LITERALLY living out of my suitcase. There's nothing on the walls to bring my own color to the atmosphere. Basically, I only use my room to sleep and get dressed. This reminds me how much I miss my turntable and record collection. Even if I lived in a drab room with only a bed and lamp, the spinning wax could bring out comforting emotions to paint the walls with. So today I went out to buy Funeral by Arcade Fire, again. As soon as I opened the package and saw the white and green disc art, I could feel the flashback coming on. I slid the disc in, and the first piano note released the nostalgic floodgates.
It wasn't too long ago that I was playing this on my old blue discman, walking back from the lab in Guaymas. It was always at night, and always with a sense of motion to it. This album also brings back memories of my 1st Coachella, my classic cross-country adventure in April of 2005. I had just come from camping on the Cuchujaqui river and kayaking through waterfall pools, to getting on a bus for a 17 hour ride to LA. The curtain on my bus window opened up that morning to the rocky deserts of Baja, and soon I'd meet my friends in Santa Monica. I bought a $2 pair of lennon-style sunglasses, and sat outside the bus station waiting for Mario to pick me up. This wasn't before I washed my hair in the bathroom sink and choke-slammed two cold Snapples (hey man, NO water in 6 hours tends to do that). It was at the second day of the festival when my head would be turned by this eccentric band from Montreal, causing me to say "Holy shit, these guys are fuckin' good!" Phil and I were weaving our way through the crowd to get good spots for Aesop Rock, and happened to stumble upon an amazing band. I would pick up their album two days later at the Hollywood Amoeba Records, where I also spotted Kanye West and the main guy from Entourage. Besides this band, that trip was an amazing couple of days in my post-college life. I reminds me of throwing caution to the wind and pushing through any setback the journey tried to throw at me. A positive attitude and an optimistic outlook counted for something, but you can never count out a curve ball you never saw coming. In this period in my life, the grass was a soft green, the music was a religious experience, the road was long but captivating, and friends had a good ear.
I guess this instance of inspriation came from a certain CD I had to re-buy today. I've lost so many CD's in the shuffle from Santa Cruz to Gonzales, Gonzales to Mexico, Mexico back to Gonzales, and Gonzales to San Jose. Now that most of my things are in a storage locker in Soledad, I can take an inventory in the things I need to replace. Lying in my room at my godfather's house, I can never enjoy the space. First of all, nothing besides the clothes on the floor belong to me. I don't have my own dresser drawer, and am LITERALLY living out of my suitcase. There's nothing on the walls to bring my own color to the atmosphere. Basically, I only use my room to sleep and get dressed. This reminds me how much I miss my turntable and record collection. Even if I lived in a drab room with only a bed and lamp, the spinning wax could bring out comforting emotions to paint the walls with. So today I went out to buy Funeral by Arcade Fire, again. As soon as I opened the package and saw the white and green disc art, I could feel the flashback coming on. I slid the disc in, and the first piano note released the nostalgic floodgates.
It wasn't too long ago that I was playing this on my old blue discman, walking back from the lab in Guaymas. It was always at night, and always with a sense of motion to it. This album also brings back memories of my 1st Coachella, my classic cross-country adventure in April of 2005. I had just come from camping on the Cuchujaqui river and kayaking through waterfall pools, to getting on a bus for a 17 hour ride to LA. The curtain on my bus window opened up that morning to the rocky deserts of Baja, and soon I'd meet my friends in Santa Monica. I bought a $2 pair of lennon-style sunglasses, and sat outside the bus station waiting for Mario to pick me up. This wasn't before I washed my hair in the bathroom sink and choke-slammed two cold Snapples (hey man, NO water in 6 hours tends to do that). It was at the second day of the festival when my head would be turned by this eccentric band from Montreal, causing me to say "Holy shit, these guys are fuckin' good!" Phil and I were weaving our way through the crowd to get good spots for Aesop Rock, and happened to stumble upon an amazing band. I would pick up their album two days later at the Hollywood Amoeba Records, where I also spotted Kanye West and the main guy from Entourage. Besides this band, that trip was an amazing couple of days in my post-college life. I reminds me of throwing caution to the wind and pushing through any setback the journey tried to throw at me. A positive attitude and an optimistic outlook counted for something, but you can never count out a curve ball you never saw coming. In this period in my life, the grass was a soft green, the music was a religious experience, the road was long but captivating, and friends had a good ear.