Thursday, July 30, 2009

this week

has been very productive. did a bunch of coding for the Crooked Ways Myspace, as well as throwing together some impromptu graphics. i work a bunch this week, and am waitressing a private party for 80 bucks (for three hours of work) and am house sitting from friday to saturday for a family and from stunday to tuesday for another family. GOING STRAIGHT INTO MY SAVINGS ACCOUNT.

house shows are super fun and i am glad way more of them are happening here.

ready resist (the girl fronted band from Saturday) is still awesome, and covered panic again. strength in solitude is such a great song.

picked up a naysayer 7". 10 years and it still means as much as it did the first day.

swamp thing

Monday, July 27, 2009

Being crushed

A summary:

Saturday I went to the Crooked Ways record release with Kristen and Rachel. We laughed a lot. Talking about oreos growing into skin folds, the homo-eroticism at the show, and making cracks at everyone, it was one of the better nights I've had. My joke was made, but no credit was given (PLAGIARISM) and The Golden Age is so good. I love girl fronted bands. Especially girl fronted bands that play Panic covers. After the show we stopped at a corner store on Sheridan near Lakeside at got ice cream sammiches and jammed the fuck out on them. Also, we played Broadway Calls driving back and they're Rachel's new favorite band. They should be everyone's favorite band.

Getting home, I dumped a ton of soda on my stupid computer. It still works! The keyboard sticks when I type, however, so that sucks.

Sunday I got up early and went for a fifteen mile bike ride with my wife and my dad. Andrea talked my ear off (per usual) but it was a good ride. I jammed the shit out of the last hill, and my legs are still feeling it. It's easily a mile of a 7% grade. To do a 14er I'm going to just have to ride up and down that stupid thing from now until September.

I did laundry, hemmed some pants, read my new books, ate some food and took a nap before picking up Alysha for the show. I had a pocket PBR tall boy (or a chrome bag one, haha). Didn't catch much of full circle, but shot the shit with some good dudes about a dude in absentia. Downpresser was way good. Foundation was way good. Mother of Mercy really impressed me after my lack of impressed-ness at UB09, and The Title Fight was just fun. During TF an unnamed member of one of the aforementioned bands felt the need to protect me, which I found laugh worthy. While everyone was kicking it in the yard after the show, he joined out conversation about dreadlocks, Benji, spiders, TAKING THA SCENE BACK, the humpday hijacking, et cetera. The other guys I met that night were super nice. I remember now why I got into this. The fun, the relative camaraderie, the ringing ears...

Between bands I walked to 7-11 (pbr tall boy open and in tow, haha) with an old boyfriend and cemented a peace of sorts. It was nice to just talk like we used to. Afterwards a group of us went to the "Lenny's" and hung out and ate, just like the bad old days. It was like living in a memory of how things used to be, when the home away from home was addressed 2017.

And I have a great idea for a tattoo.

Sunday, July 26, 2009


soft focus

My heart is freaking out again. My keyboard is sticky thanks to my stupid little escapade last night. I need a nap. And a hug.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

if you're going to come after me...

It's goin' down. Yo the girl got a gun,
best run. Because she's quick to flip and empty out the clip,
and make a man understand where she's comin' from.
The hardcore's connected to the base of her fate.
She just breaks and bring drama to the situation,
ejaculation of my projectile, she's buck wild.
Better recognize when she comes she comes correct.
Collects respect and if not, you catch a broken neck.
Buddy look down and your shirts all bloody,
looks like she caught you with a bad one for messin with da mad one.
Told you bout this girl before, you didn't listen to me.
As I talk, now you're stalked by the hunter of the fronter,
who's size five and sexy.
Quick, they catch your body and another one next week.
Huh it doesn't matter cuz the girl stays strapped
she says she had enough of men and now she's lookin for payback.
And there's no way you can fade her son.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.

Chorus: She walks softly but she carries a big gun.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.
And there's no way that you can fade her son.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.

The most venemous feminist, homie, she ain't soft.
You give her trouble then she might cut your head off.
Or something that you like to think's the best:
she'll blow big holes in your chest.
She says she gotta cuz she says a lotta ladies won't
She says she gotta cuz she knows a lotta ladies
romance the thoughts of giving men their own medicine.
Electrocute 'em light 'em up like Con Edison,
she got no fear five rings in their ear,
holes in their nose, way-out clothes.
Living life to the fullest buck shot and bullets.
Triggers she'll pull it, Earth she wanna rule it.
Maybe she will cuz she's quick to kill.
The city lights make her dresses tight, yes she bites.
You never know where she'll come from.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun

You got no time to trip or argue, you're through.
I'll bet she gets ya. Homeboy you'll catch a stretcher like so many before.
She's on a bodycount tour. But not rock, she's puttin sucker punks in cops.
You say she's nothin but a woman then you come up shot.
You say "Why you wanna kill me?" and she says "why not?"
Pop she got a body that'll make you cry.
Pop she got a shotty that'll make you die.
Don't bring drama to her homie, cuz you'll wind up flat.
She'll put your ass horizontal then she'll peel your cap.
She got no lovin', love is something that she never had.
She loved her mother but she hate her motherfucking dad.
So stay the hell out her way, cuz the girl don't play,
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.
So don't even try to play her, son.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.
So don't even try to front, son.
She walks softly but she carries a big gun.

Friday, July 24, 2009


recent acquisitions: romper, flats, ghetto hoops, bracelets, basics (for my greaser look), tights, sweater vest. desired items include: straights, star wars hoodie, leather motorcycle jacket, cowboy boots.

maybe someday i'll develop a cohesive look for a season. this year i want it to be a lot of scarves, warm colors, cardigans, hats. i want to look very collegiate on campus this fall.

missed connections cracks me up.

it's cute that you think you're even on my radar. you're not at all, unless someone brings you up. you lurk the SHIT out of me though, obviously, so you're insecure about something.

and if you think this is about you, you're probably right.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

sugar glass

the oceanaire

Virginia Dale

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

i just can't

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

picnic tables

Denver Post

"Fuck that, we'll turn that picnic table over and float down Colfax using that pole like we're riding a gondola in Italy!"

I have the best/most random nights.

I am scraped the FUCK UP from my little adventure. My wanderlust and poor choice of footwear are to blame. I did scrape the shit out of my knee and hand on rocks, almost fell into a cavernous ravine, stepped in smelly swamp water, nearly got bit by a snake... (I could go on...) and it was totally worth it!

Ashley and I went to the Larimer Lounge to see TROUT (and the entire time I yelled: THAT'S MY LAST NAME like an asshole) and Adam was in that band and haven't seen him in fourish years. They were awesome head-bangy post rock. Nearly died in a flood, played Jenga, hung out.


So, we're at seven now. Seven. Playing the game. Let them come and go, this is the summer of giving no fucks.

Friday, July 17, 2009







The Braggart

Thus does the Celtic warrior in his battle fury stand out larger than life, a swaggering braggart, his hand twitching for his sword, alert for insult, intended or accidental, through the swimming haze of alcohol that befuddled his mind. Classical writers marveled at him, his fellows set him above all others and accorded him the hero's portion at their feasts...

After various spasmodic troubles over the centuries, serious unrest came to the northern Roman frontier in 367, when a Celtic alliance of Picts, Scots and Attacotti (the identity of the latter is obscure) overran Hadrian's Wall. To deal with this 'Barbarian Conspiracy' one of the greatest military minds of the day, Theodosius, was sent to Britannia where he reorganized the defences (sic). Hadrian's Wall and some northern forts were restored to working order, signal stations were built along the Yorkshire coast and some towns had bastions added.

(Celtic Britain) Lloyd Laing

Sometimes others' words touch places that haven't been touched in years. I am going to re-read the book that brought me back to life after last summer. I don't believe in coincidences.

He said, "This is my biographical index!" "Your what?" "I started it when I was just beginning to write! I'd create a card for everyone I thought I might need to reference one day! There's a card for everyone I ever wrote about! And cards for people I talked to in the course of writing my pieces! and cards for people I read books about!..."

"...How many cards do you have?" "I've never counted!..."

"...What do you write on them?" "I write the name of the person and a one-word biography!" "Just one word?..."

"Henry Kissinger: war!
"Ornette Coleman: music!
"Che Guevara: war!
"Jeff Bezos: money!
"Phillip Guston: art!
"Mahatma Ghandi: war!"
"But he was a pacifist," I said.
"Right! War!"

"Do you have a card for yourself?"
He slid out a drawer.


Thursday, July 16, 2009


"So I asked him what he meant and he just looked at me and said 'TITS'"
"I took a leaf outta yer book and succeeded. Lil Fish Life '09"

In thinking about Vegas (which I hate) in November, I realized the one person I would elope with and randomly get married to will be the one providing me with a place to sleep and booze that whole I should probably have an emergency phone tree, should the mood to get hitched by Elvis strikes me.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

and still nothing moves you

A couple thoughts:

I saw something of a ghost tonight. A shell of a reminder of a past life. Two shooting stars (not satellites) and the North star.

Two days in a row I will be awake to watch the sun rise.

Give me one good reason to stay, as I can't find any. I can come up with seventy five (really) as to why I should just go. No one would notice, and few would care, and those who did care would know why I did what I did. It's not like I'd never be back, but what was tying me to this place and these people is no more.

This insomnia is getting to me. And yes, really, that's what it is. This physical inability to sleep until five in the morning and only for a few hours at a time if that is beginning to be very wearing. I think it really boils down to the question "When" for me. Not "if" but "when."

And by the way, a big old "FUCK YOU."
"If you think this song is about you, you have a guilty fucking conscious and you should get hit by a bus." Epic lolz.

Monday, July 13, 2009

you're still ugly

"THANKS CASH4BABIES" can't wait for this shit to be posted.

sit like a bear!
ally sits like a bear!

laura and maisey
maisey farts.

i want a mini dachshund!

fort collins

i wish i would have done something like this today - but i'm in a foul mood.

we always knew it was too good to last

I didn't realize it had been four years on what would have been the anniversary. Last year I was painfully aware of how things used to be, and this year, sans the anniversary of "the worst day" I was oblivious. I went about what I normally went about and had a great day and night, and now a few weeks later I look back and go: "huh." If it hadn't been for a passing comment made by a friend and coworker, I don't think I would have even remembered.

I wish I were in Seattle right now, not even to hang out with JH, but to see some friends play a show with The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

I need a drastic change. Drastic.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Fake Problems

At what point do you just bite your tongue and finally let go? At what point do you wash your hands of a situation and say "It's your funeral?" And when it all goes to shit, like you know it will, can you resist the urge to rub a nose in it and say "I told you so. A hundred times, I told you so."

It's just so frustrating to see friends walk down a path that you can't follow and pull them back. People don't want to hear: "I've been there, I've lived that, please listen to me."

It's frustrating to be asked those questions and not have the answer that is wanted to be heard versus what needs to be heard.

In less stupid and insipid veins... grave maker was super fun. Ill Intent is super good. The blastomat is hot, and I remember why summer shows leave covered in sweat that is not your own. And that's only a little sarcastic.

I made delicious lasagna for Ashley J and I tonight. Girl date.

Getting up early(ish). Bike ride, yoga, Africa blessing, church, bike ride home, nap, project.

Friday, July 10, 2009

a little nothing

It was only six words, but they burned none the less. A hand left casually on the small of the back was more distracting than what was ear drum rupturing from just inside that broken screen door. That single glance and that single raised eyebrow and everything that was so certain and so sure just moments before no longer exists. He can't hold still; he fidgets and gestures as he speaks, and every intonation is a little lyrical, as though he can't help but vocalize in pentameters and AB rhymes. His entire presence and body weight (which is significant, to be sure) shifts back and forth, from his heels to his toes, and back again, in some kind of two step (ha, ironic) and everyone in the vicinity is drawn in to that motion, as it's infectious and all encompassing.

A blaze of light overhead caught us all off guard. There are certain symbols and ideas that I can't escape. Shooting stars, burning cars, the number 24, multiples of three. This wretched life of outcasts and miscreants still has me tied to it, no matter what I do to escape. There is no other place that feels like home. Don't sit on the couches, don't touch the walls, hover over the toilet seat, keep both eyes open, get knocked ass over tea kettle, bass so loud you can feel it rattling your rib cage, an aggro machismo that is at once annoying and attractive.

Shooting stars. Satellites. The number 24. My own youth and wasted life. Promises of what was, what was to be, and what may never come. No more lost boys. Try and keep up.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


WHAT THE FUCK. (reposted.)

Why on earth would you shit in a fitting room. Diarrhea shit none the less? Ya can't hold it? Oh goddddd.

I used to love my job. Driving business, creating an atmosphere in my department for the type of customer I'd like to attract, seeing my knowledge of the ins and out of the industry manifest itself in + weeks and months for eight months straight was totally worthwhile. Part time and dealing with people SHITTING in fitting rooms may not quite be worth it. Time to jump ship and get into something within the history or anthropology department.

In other news, Rachel and I are awkward and still better looking than every girl most places we go. Except some of my other wonderful lady friends (Ashley Bigfun, Manda, et al) fall in that "we're prettier than you" category.

Tempeh Scallopini was pretty tasty. PBR tallboy a little less so, but still satisfying. Lyle cracks me up.

I love dirt dirt dirt and gossip gossip gossip.


Wednesday, July 8, 2009


"Sorry man, Jordan's gonna do what Jordan's gonna do. You can't get hurt about it, she doesn't mean anything malicious by it." <3

24. Rewards, happiness, love, success, creativity. May manifest itself in arrogance. 22. most successful of life paths.

It's uncanny how tied to these two numbers I am.

Two weeks from today I'll be 24. That's a weird thought.


Trap Them. Pocket Beers (or purse beers on this occasion). Dresses. I love looking out of place at crusty punk shows. And trust fund crusty punk girls can GTFO. And some douchey kid with douchey glasses tried to sell my ex's hat after this scuffle and I told him to take a shower. Ha. I'm a bitch.

Kyle is my favorite person ever.

Waterworld for my birthday. Fuck our inconvenient friends. RIOJA.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

the night my toe broke

our $90 lunch

our fifteen dollar dinner

let's not fool ourselves
eat your heart out, you wretched bitch

Monday, July 6, 2009


WHAT THE FUCK. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. What part of "DON'T" don't you understand?!?!?!? God I could just rip my hair out.

I am so restless. I need to get out of town and either go to the motherland(s) or to go somewhere totally new and adventure myself stupid. Shoes are craving new pavement. Hoya needs a new view, and I need materials for my epic project.

I am going to Gravemaker on Saturday, I think, now that the photoshoot isn't on. Title Fight on the 26th. Looks like since there wasn't a summer formal or humpday fest this year OR last year, it's being made up in November with a winter formal. I hope it's up to par.

Hopefully Vegas in November pans out too. I fucking hate that place, but I think with Mike it could be totally worth it and ridiculously fun. and I wouldn't have to babysit anyone this time. YEAY.

More zelda. Then sleep. More errands tomorrow. No more recluse day 2.

Saturday, July 4, 2009


I can hear someone puking either in my neighbor's back yard or on the street. Really Aurora, this is how you do things?

I am becoming seriously concerned with my sleep patterns. Ever seen that Law and Order SVU where the kid goes psychotic because of lack of sleep? Yeah, I'm nearing that level.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

for the record

it still sucks. i don't think it'll ever not suck. it's my own fucking fault.

on the plus side i found some DIRT. that makes me pretty stoked on ... not life ... but something.

cutting off all my hair. cannot wait.