Archive for December, 2002

danger

I feel very dangerous being bald. As if the trans-flux capacitor is gonna blow leaving us floating in space while the alien rips in from outside, or as if I’m gonna suddenly crack and pull a knife salughtering the nice little family kind enough to let me in. Speaking of using knives I’m applying to orange county for the third time in the last year, hopefully this time they WILL ACTUALLY PROCESS MY APPLICATION AND NOT FUCK EVERYTHING UP SO I DON’T HAVE TO STAB THEM WITH KNIVES BEFORE KILLING EVERYONE AT OCPS’ MAIN OFFICE. Aside from that applying for Dave Hickey’s residency at ACA. Hooked up my new printer. Got a job writing for a french sci-fi and horror mag on japanese horror and sci-fi flicks. How’s that for global village lifestyle? Posted my stones remix to Hrvastki’s web site. Working on promoting shows. having fun, looking forward to the new year. No resolutions except maybe smoking. Moving in with Dave and Darren.

Later,
A

December 31, 2002 at 2:57 pm Leave a comment

danger

I feel very dangerous being bald. As if the trans-flux capacitor is gonna blow leaving us floating in space while the alien rips in from outside, or as if I’m gonna suddenly crack and pull a knife salughtering the nice little family kind enough to let me in. Speaking of using knives I’m applying to orange county for the third time in the last year, hopefully this time they WILL ACTUALLY PROCESS MY APPLICATION AND NOT FUCK EVERYTHING UP SO I DON’T HAVE TO STAB THEM WITH KNIVES BEFORE KILLING EVERYONE AT OCPS’ MAIN OFFICE. Aside from that applying for Dave Hickey’s residency at ACA. Hooked up my new printer. Got a job writing for a french sci-fi and horror mag on japanese horror and sci-fi flicks. How’s that for global village lifestyle? Posted my stones remix to Hrvastki’s web site. Working on promoting shows. having fun, looking forward to the new year. No resolutions except maybe smoking. Moving in with Dave and Darren.

Later,
A

December 31, 2002 at 2:57 pm Leave a comment

my mom, my new best friend

So anyway it all basicly started when Darren said, “Oh I’m like you. I was always closer to my mother.” and something else to explain the fact that I’m apparently this feminate guy. I mean a lot of other things people said were bugging me, but that one was a new one. I was never really close to my mom, or we’ve never really been close. She’s taking a shower right now, I’m in on the computer. I shut myself away to avoid the precession of ideas I don’t want to be a part of. Everyday she asks me to be part of her paranoia, to agree that black people are dangerous, certian segments of town should be avoided, you should live your life in doors and away from the world. It’s not that I don’t like her, as much as that she needs a friend, and I’m not it. I can’t identify with her stories, see her point of view, or really relate to her on any level. Anyway, neurotically leafing through today’s events with my mom I’m consistently bothered by this new complex where ya know I’m my mom’s effemiate son etc. Which I’m not. This becomes apparent when I choose to watch tech tv and other male nerdy pusuits instead of talking to her about house colors and such. Later I buy a bunch of weird art magazines. My Dad and I always related, he was just never around. Mon Pere can get Gide, and while he seems to characterize us “bohemians,” in strange carcituaries, his fascination with the lives of coffee bar employees is at least amusing. I don’t know what I’m saying.
Today we went to return a Sweater stopped in Saks and stared at Prada Running shoes, and my mom tells me she knows her place in the world and it’s not Saks. We return the old navy sweater and get jeans which cost more than the sweater. Then go into look for running shoes. My old, much loved and adored, Chuck Taylors have meet their end, and my reluctance to buy shoes pisses her off. WE end up at some mall looking for a restruarant after failing to get prescription sun glasses and I see these running shoes at some up-scale last name of owner’s store. Go in and they have ‘m. Buy ‘m and after shave. Run home. one cigarette today. going home tomorrow. The more you come back, the better the nostalgia. I don’t wanna characterize any of my parents as horrible people, but I feel like the more explore my lives through them, the more I see that school society isn’t as important as family. Me and my family have never gotten along. I’m not as snooty as many intellectual types (My uncle alvin tells me it’s nice there’s someone in the family whose interested in more than eating and drinking). The more distance I get from them, the better they seem. The older you get the more barricades you put up, the more resistance you show, the more they have to accept you for what you are and not what they want you to be. It’s an uphill battle with families, and with people in general. I keep forgetting what I want to say and leaving this portrait half complete. I don’t think who I am was shaped from a kinship positive with me mother, but rather as her relucant friend I was always unhappy. When she got a boyfriend I remember thinking she’d be more occupied, more out in the world, instead she became more introverted, more needy, more of something I couldn’t live with. It’s not that she imposes on me, as much as that she needs someone and I had to pass her off, get her problems off my shoulders and deal with mine own. Sometimes we need space to feel connection.


A

December 28, 2002 at 7:54 pm 1 comment

my mom, my new best friend

So anyway it all basicly started when Darren said, “Oh I’m like you. I was always closer to my mother.” and something else to explain the fact that I’m apparently this feminate guy. I mean a lot of other things people said were bugging me, but that one was a new one. I was never really close to my mom, or we’ve never really been close. She’s taking a shower right now, I’m in on the computer. I shut myself away to avoid the precession of ideas I don’t want to be a part of. Everyday she asks me to be part of her paranoia, to agree that black people are dangerous, certian segments of town should be avoided, you should live your life in doors and away from the world. It’s not that I don’t like her, as much as that she needs a friend, and I’m not it. I can’t identify with her stories, see her point of view, or really relate to her on any level. Anyway, neurotically leafing through today’s events with my mom I’m consistently bothered by this new complex where ya know I’m my mom’s effemiate son etc. Which I’m not. This becomes apparent when I choose to watch tech tv and other male nerdy pusuits instead of talking to her about house colors and such. Later I buy a bunch of weird art magazines. My Dad and I always related, he was just never around. Mon Pere can get Gide, and while he seems to characterize us “bohemians,” in strange carcituaries, his fascination with the lives of coffee bar employees is at least amusing. I don’t know what I’m saying.
Today we went to return a Sweater stopped in Saks and stared at Prada Running shoes, and my mom tells me she knows her place in the world and it’s not Saks. We return the old navy sweater and get jeans which cost more than the sweater. Then go into look for running shoes. My old, much loved and adored, Chuck Taylors have meet their end, and my reluctance to buy shoes pisses her off. WE end up at some mall looking for a restruarant after failing to get prescription sun glasses and I see these running shoes at some up-scale last name of owner’s store. Go in and they have ‘m. Buy ‘m and after shave. Run home. one cigarette today. going home tomorrow. The more you come back, the better the nostalgia. I don’t wanna characterize any of my parents as horrible people, but I feel like the more explore my lives through them, the more I see that school society isn’t as important as family. Me and my family have never gotten along. I’m not as snooty as many intellectual types (My uncle alvin tells me it’s nice there’s someone in the family whose interested in more than eating and drinking). The more distance I get from them, the better they seem. The older you get the more barricades you put up, the more resistance you show, the more they have to accept you for what you are and not what they want you to be. It’s an uphill battle with families, and with people in general. I keep forgetting what I want to say and leaving this portrait half complete. I don’t think who I am was shaped from a kinship positive with me mother, but rather as her relucant friend I was always unhappy. When she got a boyfriend I remember thinking she’d be more occupied, more out in the world, instead she became more introverted, more needy, more of something I couldn’t live with. It’s not that she imposes on me, as much as that she needs someone and I had to pass her off, get her problems off my shoulders and deal with mine own. Sometimes we need space to feel connection.


A

December 28, 2002 at 7:54 pm 1 comment

update – memphis

Talked to Steven Castro today after 3 millions e-mails, and all sorts of possible failings in booking his label is Orlando. Long call. Now booking infilitrate events in Orlando and promoting them, hopefully improving the state of music in Florida etc.
Been thinking that my numerous near break downs of this year might be do to this schedule. While the issues of late have been of far greater importance than previous issues of vanity and self-esteem, it seems I spend so much time out of my self, in the world of other people. I’m projecting as my step-mother said. Keeeping the printer they gave me. Funny conversation at dinner tonight. good record shopping. Returned one xmas gift and got mc5 cd. still looking for the rapture. enjoying mc5 and ramones. really like something simple, less demanding, but mingus and coletrane still call and their racounting styles can keep my ear atuned for decades. burnt on hip-hop right now. to much for to long, ramones more fun. Might stop in Atlanta for a day. Will be home before New Years.
Peace Off Folks,
Andrew

December 26, 2002 at 11:12 pm Leave a comment

a more stable update

Stories:
Tried waltzing with J. on Saturday, you have to out your feet down this way or something she says.
We lumber around, never quite getting it right. Here I’ll lead she says, but then stops and sez
it doesn’t feel right. You need to get a mat she says.
J’s father plays old-time music and one of his musical companions has a daughter. she greets me at the door,
50 degrees or less and she has one of those flora print shirts with one button buttoned. EVerything is hanging out of her, stomach, breasts,
etc. later i run into her in the bathroom taking a shot, which is hopefully insilin to deal with the sugar
of eggnog etc.
Drive up to Birmingham cruizing through Atlanta listen’n to Roots Manuva, go through new Squarepusher again and find track 4 have a similar micro-funk to Venetian Snare’s Dance like your selling nails. Try to find record shop Rhett
knows about, think of calling Amanda, but Atlanta is big, it’s 1 a.m. and by the time I get to B’Ham I’ll be
like 5 a.m.
Several calls during the day, interupted while talking to S. twice I think, talk to Dave, Darren calls, Dave G. (who were thinking of moving in with) is having one of his THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT moments. DAve’s big on drama. I neglect to call him back.
Getting to B’Ham my mom wants to talk and we sit around for awhile and chat. I look at pictures on the wall and see my smiling confident face coming back at me till around wehn get to my Brother’s graduation photo – I had at that point developed some type of
anti-camera nervous tick and I give a large gay smile. My life makes more sense. I’m adjusting, in some strange way, to being who I am more of the time. As Dylan put it, “We are who we pretend to be.” Extra levels of shy this holiday season, as my mind does flips and flips over issues I thought I’d dealt with a long time ago.
My mom wants to open her big box tonight even though she won’t say anything. Mischeviously she complains she doesn’t know when to open gifts, “why don’t we open them tonight?” She announces as if delaying some unspoken command of her sub-conscious. No one else really cares. Our holiday whims long ago repressed to a nice night of sleep and lesser levels of greed. She has to know what’s in that box, and I’m sure when we get back from Church tonight, with or with out our insistence, she’ll be tearing at the gift wrap and staring into the thought that finds form in electronics and plastic: something she needs. And no, it’s not the idildo Rhett. Oh yeah I also fixed my mom’s computer. Might be going to my Dad’s sooner than expected.

Happy Holidays Folks,
Andrew

December 24, 2002 at 6:59 pm Leave a comment

a more stable update

Stories:
Tried waltzing with J. on Saturday, you have to out your feet down this way or something she says.
We lumber around, never quite getting it right. Here I’ll lead she says, but then stops and sez
it doesn’t feel right. You need to get a mat she says.
J’s father plays old-time music and one of his musical companions has a daughter. she greets me at the door,
50 degrees or less and she has one of those flora print shirts with one button buttoned. EVerything is hanging out of her, stomach, breasts,
etc. later i run into her in the bathroom taking a shot, which is hopefully insilin to deal with the sugar
of eggnog etc.
Drive up to Birmingham cruizing through Atlanta listen’n to Roots Manuva, go through new Squarepusher again and find track 4 have a similar micro-funk to Venetian Snare’s Dance like your selling nails. Try to find record shop Rhett
knows about, think of calling Amanda, but Atlanta is big, it’s 1 a.m. and by the time I get to B’Ham I’ll be
like 5 a.m.
Several calls during the day, interupted while talking to S. twice I think, talk to Dave, Darren calls, Dave G. (who were thinking of moving in with) is having one of his THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT moments. DAve’s big on drama. I neglect to call him back.
Getting to B’Ham my mom wants to talk and we sit around for awhile and chat. I look at pictures on the wall and see my smiling confident face coming back at me till around wehn get to my Brother’s graduation photo – I had at that point developed some type of
anti-camera nervous tick and I give a large gay smile. My life makes more sense. I’m adjusting, in some strange way, to being who I am more of the time. As Dylan put it, “We are who we pretend to be.” Extra levels of shy this holiday season, as my mind does flips and flips over issues I thought I’d dealt with a long time ago.
My mom wants to open her big box tonight even though she won’t say anything. Mischeviously she complains she doesn’t know when to open gifts, “why don’t we open them tonight?” She announces as if delaying some unspoken command of her sub-conscious. No one else really cares. Our holiday whims long ago repressed to a nice night of sleep and lesser levels of greed. She has to know what’s in that box, and I’m sure when we get back from Church tonight, with or with out our insistence, she’ll be tearing at the gift wrap and staring into the thought that finds form in electronics and plastic: something she needs. And no, it’s not the idildo Rhett. Oh yeah I also fixed my mom’s computer. Might be going to my Dad’s sooner than expected.

Happy Holidays Folks,
Andrew

December 24, 2002 at 6:59 pm Leave a comment

Older Posts


Calendar

December 2002
M T W T F S S
    Jan »
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031  

Posts by Month

Posts by Category