Monday, September 15, 2008
Ya, I like money
I'd be very, very good with money if I had some of it. I wouldn't hold it tight and not share. Money's good, the lights stay on when you have money. You can order online if you have money. People smile and act as if they like you, if it appears as though you have money. I'd like to try that. Money helps with family relations. Like, paying the family members the money that you owe them. Ya, I like money. "Money won't buy you love", says John; but it sure helps.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The music industry is corrupt
This is from a artist I've come to enjoy alot. His name is Levi Weaver. He's from Nashville, Tennessee and is a great performer, and singer/songwriter. This is two letters he wrote to Pandora.com and then another one (The longer one) to the RIAA. Both letters are beautifully written and I want to give him as much credit as possible and also publicity... I really have no idea who reads my blogs. But please, whoever you are. Check out his music and support him. He does it all by himself. No label, no manager, no booking agency, no distribution company. Purely self-driven... amazing and inspiring, did I mention he has the greatest Radiohead cover of Idioteque ever arranged? Creative, and original (as a remake can be)
www.myspace.com/leviweaver
I heard they might be shutting you down. I read an article this morning that the RIAA was pressuring you guys, financially, to the point that you won't be able to continue to stay in existence.
I've always been better at writing with a bit of vitriol, so this letter is shorter than the next one will be, but I just wanted to say, before it's too late, thank you. Thanks for making my music available to people. And not just any people, but people who would like it. You hired a crack team of music-analysts to figure out how to do that, and I reaped the benefits, by way of a few CD sales, and a few new fans.
You didn't charge me every time you introduced me to someone new, you just did it. You introduced me to some great acts that I really liked too. You have the right idea, and maybe you were just ahead of your time. Hopefully the beast will die soon, and we can all get back to making music and promoting music that we love.
Thank you for your help, and I wish there was something I could do to help. You have my undying respect and support, and I hope you can weather this evil storm.
-Levi Weaver
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An Open Letter to the RIAA:
Congratulations. You've taken one more step in choking the industry that pays your bills. You are the proverbial Commodus, reveling in your power, not realizing that you, hand in hand with Clear Channel were the cause of the end of Pax Romana.
You'll be the last one standing, you know, in your old graveyard of an industry. When you look around and see that despite all your efforts to "save" the music industry have totally destroyed it, I hope, nay wish, that I am in the room to see your bankruptcy papers signed, and celebrate by popping a bottle of the cheapest beer I can find, just to emphasize that your reign of Cognac and Cristal has come to a bitter and beautiful end.
You can continue to be "The Enforcer" behind all things overproduced and under-felt, sticking up for all the Kevin Federlines and 50 Cents of the world, clinging to the carcass of 1992 with all your disgusting might, but a change is coming, and has come. As one of the artists you claim to represent, I'd like to give a firm, resounding, "No Thanks." I didn't ask you to take any of the steps you've taken to try to kill my career in the name of "representing" me.
Pandora has been a tool of such great help that a value cannot be put on it. And your complete and total incapability to recognize anything that was not a source of income in your college professor's "Industry" will kill you. It will kill you, and to that I say that the day of your death cannot come soon enough.
Even if you last for another 20 years, your relevance has been fading for quite some time. You're dying even now, even as you celebrate your victory over another rebel website, another single mother, another college student, another evil 13-year old. You're dying. And right under your nose, in the echoes of your death rattle, a new music industry is growing. An industry without a name, chaotic, beautiful, bordering on anarchic. You have no control over art, over music, over fandom. So you take your top-40 radio and have fun with Leona Lewis and the Jonas Brothers for as long as it lasts.
We the people will be creating our own system. We'll be in tiny little bars and back porches and dirty basements, and eventually the mainstream will catch on, and turn their backs on you and your over-marketed bilge. (they are already turning their backs; if you would look up for one second, you would see a lot of back pockets that are already out of your reach)
And when they do, when the exodus is complete, and your stadiums are empty, and your radio stations abandoned, When your buildings are foreclosed upon, your castles in ruin, your moat filled with piss and spray paint, rancid and festering, I'd like to be among the first to say you will not be invited to have any part in this brave new world. When your world is in total ruin, I hope the music that we listen to, that reminds us of the beauty amidst the crap, the music that tells us something more than "dance dance dance", the music that was forged in the fires of discontent and destruction, and speaks of hope to the heart of those in disarray...
...I hope you never get to hear one more note.
Not one note.
-Levi Weaver
info(at)leviweaver(dot)com
www.myspace.com/leviweaver
2 Open Letters (Pandora / RIAA)
An Open Letter To Pandora:I heard they might be shutting you down. I read an article this morning that the RIAA was pressuring you guys, financially, to the point that you won't be able to continue to stay in existence.
I've always been better at writing with a bit of vitriol, so this letter is shorter than the next one will be, but I just wanted to say, before it's too late, thank you. Thanks for making my music available to people. And not just any people, but people who would like it. You hired a crack team of music-analysts to figure out how to do that, and I reaped the benefits, by way of a few CD sales, and a few new fans.
You didn't charge me every time you introduced me to someone new, you just did it. You introduced me to some great acts that I really liked too. You have the right idea, and maybe you were just ahead of your time. Hopefully the beast will die soon, and we can all get back to making music and promoting music that we love.
Thank you for your help, and I wish there was something I could do to help. You have my undying respect and support, and I hope you can weather this evil storm.
-Levi Weaver
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An Open Letter to the RIAA:
Congratulations. You've taken one more step in choking the industry that pays your bills. You are the proverbial Commodus, reveling in your power, not realizing that you, hand in hand with Clear Channel were the cause of the end of Pax Romana.
You'll be the last one standing, you know, in your old graveyard of an industry. When you look around and see that despite all your efforts to "save" the music industry have totally destroyed it, I hope, nay wish, that I am in the room to see your bankruptcy papers signed, and celebrate by popping a bottle of the cheapest beer I can find, just to emphasize that your reign of Cognac and Cristal has come to a bitter and beautiful end.
You can continue to be "The Enforcer" behind all things overproduced and under-felt, sticking up for all the Kevin Federlines and 50 Cents of the world, clinging to the carcass of 1992 with all your disgusting might, but a change is coming, and has come. As one of the artists you claim to represent, I'd like to give a firm, resounding, "No Thanks." I didn't ask you to take any of the steps you've taken to try to kill my career in the name of "representing" me.
Pandora has been a tool of such great help that a value cannot be put on it. And your complete and total incapability to recognize anything that was not a source of income in your college professor's "Industry" will kill you. It will kill you, and to that I say that the day of your death cannot come soon enough.
Even if you last for another 20 years, your relevance has been fading for quite some time. You're dying even now, even as you celebrate your victory over another rebel website, another single mother, another college student, another evil 13-year old. You're dying. And right under your nose, in the echoes of your death rattle, a new music industry is growing. An industry without a name, chaotic, beautiful, bordering on anarchic. You have no control over art, over music, over fandom. So you take your top-40 radio and have fun with Leona Lewis and the Jonas Brothers for as long as it lasts.
We the people will be creating our own system. We'll be in tiny little bars and back porches and dirty basements, and eventually the mainstream will catch on, and turn their backs on you and your over-marketed bilge. (they are already turning their backs; if you would look up for one second, you would see a lot of back pockets that are already out of your reach)
And when they do, when the exodus is complete, and your stadiums are empty, and your radio stations abandoned, When your buildings are foreclosed upon, your castles in ruin, your moat filled with piss and spray paint, rancid and festering, I'd like to be among the first to say you will not be invited to have any part in this brave new world. When your world is in total ruin, I hope the music that we listen to, that reminds us of the beauty amidst the crap, the music that tells us something more than "dance dance dance", the music that was forged in the fires of discontent and destruction, and speaks of hope to the heart of those in disarray...
...I hope you never get to hear one more note.
Not one note.
-Levi Weaver
info(at)leviweaver(dot)com
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Some amazing analogies
Tonight I was on myspace. I was trying to figure out a new blog to post, because it's been a while. Then a good friend graced me with the perfect blog that all I had to do was copy and paste it...
I present to you, some of the most amazing analogies ever. (I use the term amazing liberally)
enjoy....
"He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw. quid55328. com ..aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:..flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
I present to you, some of the most amazing analogies ever. (I use the term amazing liberally)
enjoy
"He spoke
They lived
She caugh
The littl
McBri
From the attic
Her hair glist
Her eyes were like two brown
Bob was as perpl
Her vocab
He was as tall as a six-
The hails
Her date was pleas
Long separ
The polit
John and Mary had never
The thund
His thoug
The red brick
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
The times they are a changin
who actually got there lunch money stolen from the bully at school? Seriously. I never did. Cause I was the was the bully! OOOHHHHH... not really...
Also, when I was growing up, if there was something scary in a movie, and in particular, it was usually something gory and someones face or body might have been mutilated, my parents always said "Don't worry its not real;its just make up "
that is now an understatement in todays films. I was watching The mummy III this morning and one character towards the end is obliterated in the most real sense of the word.
flesh went in all 360 degrees like an exploding star!
Hmmm.. now how the hell are you supposed to tell a kid "it's just make up" I guess now what you have to tell them is "it's just computers"
bahahahaha.... Times they are a changin'
Also, when I was growing up, if there was something scary in a movie, and in particular, it was usually something gory and someones face or body might have been mutilated, my parents always said "Don't worry its not real;its just make up "
that is now an understatement in todays films. I was watching The mummy III this morning and one character towards the end is obliterated in the most real sense of the word.
flesh went in all 360 degrees like an exploding star!
Hmmm.. now how the hell are you supposed to tell a kid "it's just make up" I guess now what you have to tell them is "it's just computers"
bahahahaha.... Times they are a changin'
Saturday, August 2, 2008
the black widow alagory... not really... kinda.
story times kids.
One rich, warm, friday morning, on a day much like august 1st, 2008, I stayed at a friends house. I stayed in orange county, in a premiere location where honestly, the kids wipe there hind quarters with gold leaf foil. (there's this old wife's tale about how if you wipe your ass with gold you get essential minerals from it and they teach that to the young folk in that area yata yata yata). Old wife's tales aside: Premiere location.
When you live in a premiere location, let it be known that if you live in that sorta area, you should take small chunk of money and invest in a quick 30 minute, hassle free, bug extermination appointment. I know of several nationwide companies that facilitate to such an appointment, I.E. The Orkan Man.
EVEN IF YOU DON'T! live in a premiere location, for the safety of others, and more specifically a gentleman like myself, please some time and invest in an appointment, or I'll sue your ass, faster than a crackhead will... nevermind.
I digress
You see, as I was about embark into the warmth and peaceful ocean breeze, of that young summer day, I crossed a figurative, and literal threshold into hell. "Hell" being a little exagerated, I walked through said threshold and onto the cold concrete, not yet baked to a fluffyness that the solar rays of the sun yeild. I would like to make a brief note, that I like to put my best foot forward on a brand new day, and so my right (being the best) took a step into arachnophobia.
Now at this point in the story, your ears may beginning to perk, and you may have been thrown in proverbial tilt-a-whirl of imagination as to what I am talking about. Well... My good friends, I will tell you.
This door, now opened for me to walk through, and my right foot (being the best foot for forward motion) was met by impeding force that left me in a fit of distraught rage. This force has a name. She is female, and her name is Black Widow. I took a personal offense to this Black Widow, and I will explain why, in the mean time, I would like to give her name. Black Widow from here on out will be known as Susan.
Susan was probably a couple months old at most, and was the size of a dime. Susan is what one would call a "Scaredy cat" and my large stature was nothing less than daunting to her when my large foot, was directly under her frame. Susan was having a mid morning kip I imagine, under the frame of the door, and my swift movement of opening the door, and her inapt quality to stay grounded left her to drop Directly over my right foot, being my best foot.
Susan landed squarely, to my surprise, and dismay on my right, second toe.
It must have been identified as an enemy in Susan's 16 beady eyes, and what was left for me was a puncture and distribution of a neurotoxin found in her friends and family members we call "The Black Widow"
In lay-mans terms- I got bit by a black widow.
Susan was flung from my foot, quickly in the fraction of a second and was quickly thrown into a corner. In my rage, I went to kill her, but did not have the proper tools to do so because she was in a corner, and my sandals that I had on were not made for corner killing.
When I went inside and returned with a cup and a stick, because lets face it, I wanted her dead to tell others of my wild a ludicrous story, which i knew they never would believe. I needed proof. Evidence. Hard Evidence, not some stupid circumstantial crap. Anyways, when I returned, Susan was gone. I was left beside myself.
I called my mother and told her about susan, but now only referring to her as "the black widow" because she didn't deserve to have a real name. That bitch made me fork out money to fix what she did.
I called my father and told him what had happened as well, and I told him I would not be able to come to work immediately. I went around to a few places, made a few phone calls, got the opinions of a couple leading experts, who study the art of "What F___ am I supposed to do when I get bit by a black widow" and came to the conclusion that I would take matters into my own hands and fix this trifle with the help of some herbs, and different medicines, including payote, and LSD. They don't really help with the pain, but help my vision quest, and I am happy to note that Susan I have spoken, and she said that we should go to lunch together some time.
When I do, I will be sure to tell her that you all forgive her. She was only doing what she knew best.
If I had venom and poison I would do the same.
Now for my reaction to her poison, other than name calling, and livid dysfunction of self and others.(editors note: what does this even mean? whatev) I got a bit of a headache. I took some Alleve, and it did what it's name intended.
It Alleviated my pain!
On a particularly positive note later, two hours after my incident, I was able to find my remedies, and continued on to a healthy positive day of work. I continued into the night to a rawkus dance in the Huntington area, and continued to an after party at a dear friends. The night lasted till 6 in the moanin in my own head, but physically it probably lasted until 4. Somewhere around 4, physical movements were not made by my own accord and were made by merely habitual reflects of my human body. I would also mention because of the size of Susan, and because of the lack of discoloration of my toe, the bite was superficial, and I'm just too cool to be effected by poison.
Kids, watch out for Susan and her counterparts. They're all bitches, and don't believe what your parents tell you when they say "Oh they're more scared of you than you are of them" Nooooooo... Screw that. She did it on purpose. If I was that scared, I would just kept my mouth closed and ran for the hills. She did not run for ANY hill, and did NOT keep her little chompers closed. I've got the bite mark to prove it...
Well, thanks for reading. Spiders suck. Especially black widow ones, and kill them all. Dude. Karma. OMG Karma. Ok never mind, don't kill spiders because like a week ago me and my friend went hiking in the wilderness, and I killed an unsuspecting Black Widow, and this is my fate. I get it back... I hope I don't die.
Pray for me :(
One rich, warm, friday morning, on a day much like august 1st, 2008, I stayed at a friends house. I stayed in orange county, in a premiere location where honestly, the kids wipe there hind quarters with gold leaf foil. (there's this old wife's tale about how if you wipe your ass with gold you get essential minerals from it and they teach that to the young folk in that area yata yata yata). Old wife's tales aside: Premiere location.
When you live in a premiere location, let it be known that if you live in that sorta area, you should take small chunk of money and invest in a quick 30 minute, hassle free, bug extermination appointment. I know of several nationwide companies that facilitate to such an appointment, I.E. The Orkan Man.
EVEN IF YOU DON'T! live in a premiere location, for the safety of others, and more specifically a gentleman like myself, please some time and invest in an appointment, or I'll sue your ass, faster than a crackhead will... nevermind.
I digress
You see, as I was about embark into the warmth and peaceful ocean breeze, of that young summer day, I crossed a figurative, and literal threshold into hell. "Hell" being a little exagerated, I walked through said threshold and onto the cold concrete, not yet baked to a fluffyness that the solar rays of the sun yeild. I would like to make a brief note, that I like to put my best foot forward on a brand new day, and so my right (being the best) took a step into arachnophobia.
Now at this point in the story, your ears may beginning to perk, and you may have been thrown in proverbial tilt-a-whirl of imagination as to what I am talking about. Well... My good friends, I will tell you.
This door, now opened for me to walk through, and my right foot (being the best foot for forward motion) was met by impeding force that left me in a fit of distraught rage. This force has a name. She is female, and her name is Black Widow. I took a personal offense to this Black Widow, and I will explain why, in the mean time, I would like to give her name. Black Widow from here on out will be known as Susan.
Susan was probably a couple months old at most, and was the size of a dime. Susan is what one would call a "Scaredy cat" and my large stature was nothing less than daunting to her when my large foot, was directly under her frame. Susan was having a mid morning kip I imagine, under the frame of the door, and my swift movement of opening the door, and her inapt quality to stay grounded left her to drop Directly over my right foot, being my best foot.
Susan landed squarely, to my surprise, and dismay on my right, second toe.
It must have been identified as an enemy in Susan's 16 beady eyes, and what was left for me was a puncture and distribution of a neurotoxin found in her friends and family members we call "The Black Widow"
In lay-mans terms- I got bit by a black widow.
Susan was flung from my foot, quickly in the fraction of a second and was quickly thrown into a corner. In my rage, I went to kill her, but did not have the proper tools to do so because she was in a corner, and my sandals that I had on were not made for corner killing.
When I went inside and returned with a cup and a stick, because lets face it, I wanted her dead to tell others of my wild a ludicrous story, which i knew they never would believe. I needed proof. Evidence. Hard Evidence, not some stupid circumstantial crap. Anyways, when I returned, Susan was gone. I was left beside myself.
I called my mother and told her about susan, but now only referring to her as "the black widow" because she didn't deserve to have a real name. That bitch made me fork out money to fix what she did.
I called my father and told him what had happened as well, and I told him I would not be able to come to work immediately. I went around to a few places, made a few phone calls, got the opinions of a couple leading experts, who study the art of "What F___ am I supposed to do when I get bit by a black widow" and came to the conclusion that I would take matters into my own hands and fix this trifle with the help of some herbs, and different medicines, including payote, and LSD. They don't really help with the pain, but help my vision quest, and I am happy to note that Susan I have spoken, and she said that we should go to lunch together some time.
When I do, I will be sure to tell her that you all forgive her. She was only doing what she knew best.
If I had venom and poison I would do the same.
Now for my reaction to her poison, other than name calling, and livid dysfunction of self and others.(editors note: what does this even mean? whatev) I got a bit of a headache. I took some Alleve, and it did what it's name intended.
It Alleviated my pain!
On a particularly positive note later, two hours after my incident, I was able to find my remedies, and continued on to a healthy positive day of work. I continued into the night to a rawkus dance in the Huntington area, and continued to an after party at a dear friends. The night lasted till 6 in the moanin in my own head, but physically it probably lasted until 4. Somewhere around 4, physical movements were not made by my own accord and were made by merely habitual reflects of my human body. I would also mention because of the size of Susan, and because of the lack of discoloration of my toe, the bite was superficial, and I'm just too cool to be effected by poison.
Kids, watch out for Susan and her counterparts. They're all bitches, and don't believe what your parents tell you when they say "Oh they're more scared of you than you are of them" Nooooooo... Screw that. She did it on purpose. If I was that scared, I would just kept my mouth closed and ran for the hills. She did not run for ANY hill, and did NOT keep her little chompers closed. I've got the bite mark to prove it...
Well, thanks for reading. Spiders suck. Especially black widow ones, and kill them all. Dude. Karma. OMG Karma. Ok never mind, don't kill spiders because like a week ago me and my friend went hiking in the wilderness, and I killed an unsuspecting Black Widow, and this is my fate. I get it back... I hope I don't die.
Pray for me :(
Thursday, July 24, 2008
the high ace of the midnight mout
| | |
| Body: | Just some phrases, I've been collecting for two weeks, including the subject line, which came in a dream last night. objects of control confusion to console Variable Punishments This cloak will tear this vail We're driving in circles No Seriously, We're driving in circles Theirs somethings ironic The devil wears a crown very similar to your smile But we watch this lightning and listen this thunder like a lotto You were born with the whip scars of your fathers But then again I was born a little off kilter myself On the principles of Chaos, I cannot divide this line Oh its jaw drop expression, it's a jaw drop expression, When I give a brutal confession a brutal confession Oh with my life! I hope I'm wrong!!! Death is my shadow and takes my friends out to lunch, and visits me while I sleep Oh FTD, how you tease me! |
|---|
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Good evening!
Tonight. Eventful. Spectacular. Reflective.
A lot can be said of this day. Today I finished my first job with my father where I was given full rains of decision making on panel layout for a job out in Orange County. For those of you who read this who don't know, I install solar panel systems. This is no easy task and if you look at pictures, it looks simple enough, but that's because its done right. Lots of thought, and detail goes into this process. So I'm glad I could prove myself.
I have more proving to do this evening. Tonight is my first show playing for Amue, my new band. I'm special guesting tonight. I'll be playing the last song, which is great, I'm content. I get to prove to the band that I'm for real. I get to prove to myself that I am capable of this. It's somewhat of a land mark. Right? Right.
Tonight I get to watch The Dark Night at midnight, I will be with my friends, and a friend from Temecula who I think is pretty cute too. ;)
Today is also the birthday of a very special lady. My sister in law is 28 today. Although she is passed, we celebrate instead her life. She is 28. Not "She would be 28 today". This would seem so dramatic, it is I suppose, but her spirit, her life is soo strong in my family, and her families life, to speak in past-tense. She's no longer with us, and we miss her. I rely on my faith to know that I will see her again. *Smile*
I'm not sure how my brother is doing today. I hope he's doing alright. I thought I would dedicate part of this blog to Traci McKnight. She was so special. She was the sister I never had. For a long time I called her sis, cause I don't have any sisters. Honestly, she tamed my brother in many respects I felt. She was his voice many times when he didn't want to speak. She was his humour when he wanted to laugh but didn't know how. She was the apple of his eye, and can never replaced. What is that slogan or phrase? Often imitated, never duplicated... Speaks a special tone for Traci. I loved her addictive smile, and her warm laugh. I loved the way she looked at my brother, and when they dated, I admired there love and hoped someday that I would have the same. I still admire there love. Through thick and thin, they loved each other.
She treated me so well. On occasion even put me in place. I remember one time in particular, I was probably 18 or 19 and it was summer, when my mom left for girls camp. I had the whole house to myself for a week, and by the end of that week it certainly looked like I had. So the day before my mom came home, Traci cracked the whip and made me clean the house. I was pretty irritated at how much she made me clean, but my mother came home and was so pleased at the how clean things were. Of course, Traci had to take some of the credit, and probably took more than her fair-share, because my mother praised her and found my stubbornness to be "typical". Thanks Traci for that one :P
I love thinking of her because I feel so warm and happy. I love thinking of the great times we had. 4th's of July, Christmas, Easter. She was a laugh and a half, and always had a good story to share. I miss her, but I feel at ease with how everything as folded. It is a weird way to have to live, but I believe in a plan that makes this right. Positive, positive, positive. Gotta be, always will be.
Love for Traci. Love for Mitch. Love for Mitch & Traci. The Girls. The fam. The Friendships. The good times. Smile. Smile. Laugh. Laugh. Ha. Ha. Oh ya. Miss that girl.
William.
Tonight. Eventful. Spectacular. Reflective.
A lot can be said of this day. Today I finished my first job with my father where I was given full rains of decision making on panel layout for a job out in Orange County. For those of you who read this who don't know, I install solar panel systems. This is no easy task and if you look at pictures, it looks simple enough, but that's because its done right. Lots of thought, and detail goes into this process. So I'm glad I could prove myself.
I have more proving to do this evening. Tonight is my first show playing for Amue, my new band. I'm special guesting tonight. I'll be playing the last song, which is great, I'm content. I get to prove to the band that I'm for real. I get to prove to myself that I am capable of this. It's somewhat of a land mark. Right? Right.
Tonight I get to watch The Dark Night at midnight, I will be with my friends, and a friend from Temecula who I think is pretty cute too. ;)
Today is also the birthday of a very special lady. My sister in law is 28 today. Although she is passed, we celebrate instead her life. She is 28. Not "She would be 28 today". This would seem so dramatic, it is I suppose, but her spirit, her life is soo strong in my family, and her families life, to speak in past-tense. She's no longer with us, and we miss her. I rely on my faith to know that I will see her again. *Smile*
I'm not sure how my brother is doing today. I hope he's doing alright. I thought I would dedicate part of this blog to Traci McKnight. She was so special. She was the sister I never had. For a long time I called her sis, cause I don't have any sisters. Honestly, she tamed my brother in many respects I felt. She was his voice many times when he didn't want to speak. She was his humour when he wanted to laugh but didn't know how. She was the apple of his eye, and can never replaced. What is that slogan or phrase? Often imitated, never duplicated... Speaks a special tone for Traci. I loved her addictive smile, and her warm laugh. I loved the way she looked at my brother, and when they dated, I admired there love and hoped someday that I would have the same. I still admire there love. Through thick and thin, they loved each other.
She treated me so well. On occasion even put me in place. I remember one time in particular, I was probably 18 or 19 and it was summer, when my mom left for girls camp. I had the whole house to myself for a week, and by the end of that week it certainly looked like I had. So the day before my mom came home, Traci cracked the whip and made me clean the house. I was pretty irritated at how much she made me clean, but my mother came home and was so pleased at the how clean things were. Of course, Traci had to take some of the credit, and probably took more than her fair-share, because my mother praised her and found my stubbornness to be "typical". Thanks Traci for that one :P
I love thinking of her because I feel so warm and happy. I love thinking of the great times we had. 4th's of July, Christmas, Easter. She was a laugh and a half, and always had a good story to share. I miss her, but I feel at ease with how everything as folded. It is a weird way to have to live, but I believe in a plan that makes this right. Positive, positive, positive. Gotta be, always will be.
Love for Traci. Love for Mitch. Love for Mitch & Traci. The Girls. The fam. The Friendships. The good times. Smile. Smile. Laugh. Laugh. Ha. Ha. Oh ya. Miss that girl.
William.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
good morning!
I always write things in the morning. It's peaceful calm and quiet I suppose. It's an overcast day mid-July, and of course its the best we can do in the California Inland Empire. One thing that is Ironic is that I am up before anyone in my apartment. That is also interesting because I went to be at like 3am. Which is my subject of matter.
So my Saturday evening was wonderful, I went to my parents, I said hello, we chatted laughs were to be had. I found out my cousin issued my best friend his marriage license, and that was neat because both my cousin and my best friend went to school together so it wasn't like they didn't know each other. In the evening I went out to Temecula and visited a lady friend and hung out with some of her friends, which was really nice and relaxed and not crazy, and just nice.
It was a long evening though I drove home and got home at 2 in the morning. Now for whatever reason, I wasn't tired. So I decided that did want to rest my little head on my comfy smaller sized bed. Instead, I left quickly wallet in hand and went to my local 24 hour Jack-in-the-box. I got a 16 piece spicy chicken bites thing, which if you have honey mustard, is the most amazing midnight food ever! But I digress.
I drove back home to my apartment. Now one thing you should know is, is that there is a gate to my apartment complex, you need a clicker to get in. I have one of the those but it broke. So in order to get in the gate, you have to wait for someone to leave from that gate! So it was 2:30 when I arrived, my food was seating the passenger quite comfortably, and I must admit I watched that brown paper bag in subtle adoration. When I got there, their were some late night drunk people sitting in the spa, I assume they were drunk and going for a midnight dip because they were very loud. Security must have been called and so some rentacops (they may have been real cops I dunno) came to the pool and ushered them off the premices. When the pulled up, they took an angle that didn't open the gate that I needed to get through, although they must have been close to the actuator. When they left, instead of leaving out of the exit that was a mere 10 feet, much to my dismay, dissapoint, and unabated anger, they carefully backed up, so as not to open the gate I needed to get in.
Now thats a dick move right there kids. Obviously, they saw I wanted in, I waited patiently, it's 3 in the morning. I'm not gonna wake up my roommates to ask them to get a clicker and open the gate. All the guest parking is gone on the outside of the gate, which they can clearly see, and they back up, and go out another gate.
This move fuels my animosity towards people with any figure of power. How rude, that they see I want in, and strategically disolve my hopes of getting in my apartment complex. Oh it is soooo frustrating. There were two security dudes, and you know that there thought complex (maybe conversation) went somethin like this:
"Hey, there's that dude in the white car, shouldn't we let him in?"
"Nah, it'll be funny if we just toy with him and make him think we'll let him in"
"Ha, yeah you should back carefully to make sure you don't trip the sensor"
"Yeah, good idea, ohhh man he's gonna be so pissed. I love my job"
"I love you, let's go have extra-marrital-homosexual-relations in some back alley"
"Deal"
Cops are lame. Would you like you hear the insult to injury? I went to the far entrance, waaaaayyy on the other side of the apartment complex, and parked outside the gate, that I could not penetrate. When I walked back to my apartment, I had to walk past the gate that I had first tried to get into. I saw three cars get let in by some other car about to leave. Had I waited a mere 2 or 3 minutes, I could have parked right by my apartment! suck....
I always write things in the morning. It's peaceful calm and quiet I suppose. It's an overcast day mid-July, and of course its the best we can do in the California Inland Empire. One thing that is Ironic is that I am up before anyone in my apartment. That is also interesting because I went to be at like 3am. Which is my subject of matter.
So my Saturday evening was wonderful, I went to my parents, I said hello, we chatted laughs were to be had. I found out my cousin issued my best friend his marriage license, and that was neat because both my cousin and my best friend went to school together so it wasn't like they didn't know each other. In the evening I went out to Temecula and visited a lady friend and hung out with some of her friends, which was really nice and relaxed and not crazy, and just nice.
It was a long evening though I drove home and got home at 2 in the morning. Now for whatever reason, I wasn't tired. So I decided that did want to rest my little head on my comfy smaller sized bed. Instead, I left quickly wallet in hand and went to my local 24 hour Jack-in-the-box. I got a 16 piece spicy chicken bites thing, which if you have honey mustard, is the most amazing midnight food ever! But I digress.
I drove back home to my apartment. Now one thing you should know is, is that there is a gate to my apartment complex, you need a clicker to get in. I have one of the those but it broke. So in order to get in the gate, you have to wait for someone to leave from that gate! So it was 2:30 when I arrived, my food was seating the passenger quite comfortably, and I must admit I watched that brown paper bag in subtle adoration. When I got there, their were some late night drunk people sitting in the spa, I assume they were drunk and going for a midnight dip because they were very loud. Security must have been called and so some rentacops (they may have been real cops I dunno) came to the pool and ushered them off the premices. When the pulled up, they took an angle that didn't open the gate that I needed to get through, although they must have been close to the actuator. When they left, instead of leaving out of the exit that was a mere 10 feet, much to my dismay, dissapoint, and unabated anger, they carefully backed up, so as not to open the gate I needed to get in.
Now thats a dick move right there kids. Obviously, they saw I wanted in, I waited patiently, it's 3 in the morning. I'm not gonna wake up my roommates to ask them to get a clicker and open the gate. All the guest parking is gone on the outside of the gate, which they can clearly see, and they back up, and go out another gate.
This move fuels my animosity towards people with any figure of power. How rude, that they see I want in, and strategically disolve my hopes of getting in my apartment complex. Oh it is soooo frustrating. There were two security dudes, and you know that there thought complex (maybe conversation) went somethin like this:
"Hey, there's that dude in the white car, shouldn't we let him in?"
"Nah, it'll be funny if we just toy with him and make him think we'll let him in"
"Ha, yeah you should back carefully to make sure you don't trip the sensor"
"Yeah, good idea, ohhh man he's gonna be so pissed. I love my job"
"I love you, let's go have extra-marrital-homosexual-relations in some back alley"
"Deal"
Cops are lame. Would you like you hear the insult to injury? I went to the far entrance, waaaaayyy on the other side of the apartment complex, and parked outside the gate, that I could not penetrate. When I walked back to my apartment, I had to walk past the gate that I had first tried to get into. I saw three cars get let in by some other car about to leave. Had I waited a mere 2 or 3 minutes, I could have parked right by my apartment! suck....
Monday, July 7, 2008
welcome welcome.
Today I write my official blog, and i gotta say it feels good. So here's what we(I) can expect to have posted here. I plan to post things like:
Willy
- New bands, that I found and I want to share with others.
- Concerts I've been to, maybe some pictures from these?
- Of course, news in my life, personal or otherwise
- News in the world and my thoughts of the news
- Just my thoughts in general
Willy
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