I played a show in Hammonton the other day. It actually went better than I expected. When I walked into the coffee shop, I really got the impression that the kids in there weren't going to like what I played, since they all were wearing skinny jeans and listened to Bullet For My Valentine. I know you could call that just a generalization, but it still makes me feel awkward as hell at these shows, considering I don't like wearing skinny jeans and I think Bullet is pretty awful. But yeah I got up to play and I just beat the shit out of my guitar strings and screamed the words to a few of my songs and a few covers, and they seemed to like it more than anybody else who played that night, although that isn't saying much. Once I outplay some kids who don't play strictly Blink 182 covers, THEN I'll feel confident about myself. And speaking of Blink 182, how about their getting back together, huh? I know this is old news, but so many kids I know are so hyped up to go pay $100 just to go scream "All the Small Things" in some fucking casino. This is just a matter of opinion, but I think Tom Delonge has one of the most annoying singing voices I've ever heard, even more annoying than MINE, and that's pretty bad.

 I had a dream last night that I was with some girl in Hawaii. I'd really like to go there again.... and yeah, I haven't posted anything on here in 3 months or so. And yes, nobody reads this anyway so my indefinite hiatus went unnoticed anyway.

 Uggs today. UGGS EVERYWHERE.
Taunting me with their gaudy sheep skin, that being an oxymoron and the like.
So I walk into a school, and all the girls scream to me, telepathically, or maybe just of the like where I can tell what they're thinking just by looking at them, although you can really never tell what someone is thinking just by looking at them unless maybe you looked for a long time, but at this point it would be very rude and you'd have to stop staring, or you could sacrifice your well-being with a "hey, how are ya?" from said females' fists.

Disgusting. Dee-scust-INGGG. 

Now some people say that some people like pickles better than cucumbers, and that maybe, but I believe Uggs are the worst trend to come around since Christianity or capitalism. And YES, they're on the same scale, you'll one day realize EVERYTHING is on the same scale, everything is IN the fucking ballpark, man! There's this ubiquitous force of interconnection that binds all the garbage to the beauty and all the dead, rotting corpses to the lively, young children! 

Children and corpses. Children and corpses. Children and corpses. A sick paradoxical dance between youthful and SHIT, dead and living, living and dead, smelly and unsmelly(or sometimes unsmelly and VERY unsmelly, VERY unsmelly being the children.) A sick metaphor written by a pretentious blogger who thinks he's being creative when he really isn't, he's just fucking lonely at 12:53 AM wanting someone to somehow chip off a piece of his soul and feed it to him on a spoon singing "Here comes the train, you DIRTY FUCKING BOY!" Now I'm sorry, that was just weird.

How's it going? How are ya? Doin' good? How's the wife? Kids doin' alrigh? Watch the game lass night, didja? Seen that new quarter back for so and so? Throws like a black man he does, because he IS a black man! What an outrage! Well I've gotta get going, have a good day now man, okay i will! Now you waltz away, but you'll be coming back for more you god damn WHORE! YOU ALWAYS WALTZ ON BACK FOR MORE! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY!

Anyway, irish potatoes and drunken fucking parents and the like. Heard shouts of  "YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT YOU!" but they weren't for me, and Jah knows(haha, I love saying that) if they were for anybody, they could've been for some distant otherworldly being, or some exboyfriend in prison who they share conjugal visits with. Fuck man, why can't FREE people get conjugal visits? The fuzz calls it prostitution, but I call it dadaism.

 This sudden wave of optimism about our oncoming generation of young people was inspired by a heart-rending, soul-to-soul argument between two kids on a bus I ride.
     "Rock band is way better than Guitar Hero."
     "Nuh uh Guitar Hero is better!"
     "Nuh uh Rock band has drums!" and etc. etc. etc.
Good shit, am I right? These kids are so adept at manipulating their plastic controllers it's not even funny. Uhm, no sexual innuendo intended there.

      Sitting here reading some books I was lent yesterday, and I'm really cold and not sure what to do next. This has been quite an eventful three days. Well, not so much in the typical sense of the word eventful, maybe more mentally eventful than physically eventful or eventful in the sense of things happening in the "real" world. Everything was pretty good though, even my delightfully pathetic Valentine's Day. I really could use a couple more days before going back to school.

      Vinyls really DO sound better than CDs. And time sure goes by when you're high, and enjoying yourself. Good day, good day. Something kind of dream like about it. Maybe that was just that oddly colored marijuana.

      So I've been thinking about what I want to do when I grow up. And besides be a jedi, I really don't think I want to be anything. I mean of course I'll be something, but I don't want to be something in the sense of a chosen career. Hell, I don't even want to have a day job. I've told people this, and they've just told me that it's a phase and that I'll grow out of it, or that I'll just sell out like everyone else. That's always in the back of my mind, and we change a lot as we age and acquire wisdom, but I can't see my beliefs changing THAT far radically in the next 10 years. It seem that when we're younger, we develop much less justified morals and beliefs and keep changing them into maturity, and they grow a little bit this way and that like malignant tumors on our ever-changing minds. 

     So yeah, maybe I'll be a different person in 10 years, maybe even in 5 years, hell I'm a different person every day as far as personality is concerned, but that part of it is only because I choose it to be that way. People tend to remember those with multiple, drastic personalities better than those who strike up boring small talk with people and try to make friends that way. Yelling inflammatory remarks is a way to overcome my shyness, which always resurfaces, but I think I've pretty much got that covered. I'm just trying to do my best Dean Moriarty impression, every day, trying to show everyone how enthused I am about NOTHING, and everything, and all the things in between, like I can't choose specifically so I just choose it all, a tribute to my own passive-aggressive indecisiveness, and a rather good way to hide it, if I do say so myself. 

     So. Third paragraph I've started with "so" SO far.  Perhaps brilliant writing pattern, coincidence, or just lacking creativity when starting my paragraphs? Don't answer it, it's a rhetorical question. Anyway, I think I'd like to give being unemployed a try. Broke ass travelin' is the life for me, and who needs all that money to weigh them down? This is all necessary in the process of liberating myself, which is as important to me as maybe getting a promotion would be to an office worker, or a new dollar menu meal at mcdonalds would be to an average american, or the newest brand of grade-A crack cocaine would be to Amy Winehouse(just kidding, me and Amy are friends, I kid her to death.....actually, just kidding again, I'm a compulsive liar, get used to it), or Louis C.K.'s newest special would be for Dane Cook's jokes, and so on.

     Yeah so in short, I can summarize this entry in one exclamation: OBAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAaAaAaAAAAAAA! Totally jumping on the bandwagon here. I mean sure he lacks any executive experience and all of his opinions are middle-of-the-road so they don't offend anybody(yet they still manage to!), but the fella has got charisma, and that goes a long way. I mean, he's like a kind of black Ronald Reagan, except he wasn't an actor, and he doesn't have an extreme hatred for poor people...... THAT WE KNOW OF.    *twilight zone music plays*

P.S. Whether Obama will be a good president or not, I'm tired of all the bitching about him turning the White House bowling alley into a basketball court. Bush/Mccain/Cheney/Palin/The Whole Brady Bunch wanted to turn Alaska into an oil field, but that didn't get nearly as much negative press as Obama's basketball court escapade. I mean sure, basketball is very stereotypical of black people, but isn't making dumb racial jokes about black stereotypes very stereotypical of white people?

      So i went bowling yesterday with some friends, and that was fun. I was awful, and rather be embarrassed, I just accepted my complete lack of athletic prowess. Masculinity is for suckers. Yeah I had a ride there, and then I didn't have one back. I mean, I was offered some, but these are friends I don't hang out with often, so I had the feeling that if I bummed a ride off of them they'd act like they didn't mind, but they secretly would. Happens all the time. 
"Oh, no, I'll pay for everything!"
"Are you sure? I have money...."
"No, don't worry, it's on me!"
"Well, alright then...."
     And then, when they think I can't hear them they'll say "Oh, that Eddie, he never pays for anything! Such a damn moocher!". I'm not saying I thought these friends were shallow people and that i EXPECTED them to act one way and then feel another, but I feel it's best not to trust people with stuff like that and to just take the drastic measure and walk home 10 miles in the rain. In the end, I probably gave them a bad impression anyway since I walked home, but whatever. Sometimes people just don't want to look at you in a positive light, negative aspects of people are MUCH better topic for conversation.
     On the way home from the bowling alley, I stopped off at the Goodwill store in Hammonton. A funny moment while there was when I saw a Hummer.....parked in the Goodwill parking lot. It's funny that "Hummer" and "humility" start with the same three letters, yet they're pretty much complete opposites. Talk about big fish in a small fucking pond. Anyway, while in good will I probably looked like a beat-ass motherfucker, with my muddy chuck taylors and my ripped paper thin hoodie, hair all dissheveled and whatnot. I saw this black denim jacket that was so ridiculously awesome. I know, I know, denim jackets are lame to most people, and I feel the same way about BLUE denim jackets. But BLACK ones are so awesome, I have no idea why. Looked my size too. Only thing was, I had no money left after the bowling alley and paying my friend gas money to drive me to the bowling alley earlier. So it goes.

 Hah. Just read about the MOVE massacre in Philly. You gotta love the Philadelphia police force, is there ANYTHING that isn't great about that city? As Erik Petersen says, "Save a city, burn it down...." But on a more serious note, life is going well, i was  planning on going to brooklyn friday to see a show in somebody's house, but it'd be hard as fuck to get there, no one really wants to go with me, i have plans the following day, blahblahblahblahhhhhhh. So i'm not going to brooklyn, which gives me the opportunity to get drunk at home since my parents are out, going to key west or some other place down at the head of the penis shaped state of florida. I LOVE suggestively shaped peninsulas.

 It seems all anyone these days, including me, is seeking, is some sort of sincerity, something that is EXACTLY what it looks like, and we try and expect sincerity from our friends, family, and acquaintances, but we rarely practice this sincerity that we expect from others. This is why i cringe when i hear people say they hate "fakes." We're all fake, it's human nature to take on slightly different shades of their personality depending on the person they're talking to. Don't say you only talk about people you don't like behind their backs, you talk about your friends as well as the enemies, it's just the way we all are. The people who don't ever do this are usually the ones being made fun of and are often mislead by the fake sincerity of others. Bah, social politeness is hell sometimes, it really is. I mean when you hang out with a group of friends, if you're self-conscious enough, you'll live in fear of ever doing anything stupid in front of the group members or "creeping out" one of your friends, because then you'll be the butt of all the jokes behind your back, and i know i've been made fun of hundreds of time behind my back, and i'll make fun of others hundreds of more times behind their backs. It all really comes down to that we just really don't have many other interesting things to talk about. So yeah, human nature for the win. Only way to make it in this world is to go totally fucking insane. God life is fucking awesome!

 I'm hungry, and longing for some good 'ole visceral experience. Coming to school drunk on friday wasn't good enough for me, I need something more exciting. So maybe taking acid at school is the next logical step, but then again, that could yield disastrous results. Maybe I've been reading way too much depressing poetry, but then again, there's no such THING as too much depressing poetry. I'm having one of those days where you find out the meaning of life, then forget it, question your own sexuality, reject your entire beliefs system, claim it all back, and eat peanut butter and jelly. Alright well, enough whining for one post.

      So last night I went to a show in Philly. It was on the University of the Arts campus, in Room 401 at the Gershman Y. Vegan bake sale+acoustic punk= awesome night. There were a good 5 or 6 performers, even though 3 were advertised on the flyer. I went with my brother, who was my last resort. Come to think of it, it might have been better to have gone alone, but hey, any company is good company.
     The first guy was actually my cousin who i haven't seen in months, Jim Shomo. I thought he was really good, I'd previously been listening to his CD Songs For Coffee, very lo-fi acoustic songs. He threw in a cover or two, only played about 5 or 6 songs, but they were all good and it was fun hanging out with him. Julian Root played next, and he was great, one of those guys who you see at practically every local punk show in Philly. He played some of his own, plus a Phil Ochs cover. Wonderful stuff.
     Then a girl going by the name of Beck played, and she was the only performer to use an electric guitar. She was a short-haired punk-looking girl, and played some really depressing songs while everyone had to sit down huddled around her and use their inside voices. She had a pretty and sad sounding voice, but all her songs sounded the same in a way, or at least the chords did. Then Emilyn Brodsky played, dressed in a suave striped overall suit. She had a pretty voice and played ukulele and was also very funny, responding well to the drunk hecklers in the crowd by playing quite a few 80's covers.
     Now Emilyn had us sit down too, and I was really hoping that there would be no more sitting down throughout the night. But then, Spoonboy came on and we sat down AGAIN. And his songs were wonderful, nice songs about the cons of patriarchal America and talked about how he wanted to get to a party in Washington D.C. right away and that he would pay somebody to drive him down there. By the time this set was over, I was almost completely numb in the lower half of my body. 'Twas all totally worth it, though.
     So then, of course, Erik Petersen jumped up on the table in the front of the room(which served the purpose of stage dives very well, I might add) and played a great set. He opened up with Labor Day Massacre, and people moshed throughout his 45 minute acoustic set. He played Coffee, God, and Cigarettes, which I didn't think I'd ever hear live, and of course he played Thanks, Bastards! and Nomads Revolt. Then, he played Olde Tyme Mem'ry, a great song from way back when(AKA 6 or 7 years ago), and Departure Arrival, which I didn't even think he played live. Then of course he ended with Roll Me Through The Gates Of Hell, and lots of moshing and crowd surfing ensued, endangering the lives of themselves and everyone around them, and nobody would've had it any other way.
     So after the show, my brother and I get on a PATCO train to Lindenwold. We had to meet an NJ Transit train at Lindenwold at 12:19 to get back to Hammonton, and we got to Lindenwold at 12:20. God damn. As soon as we got up to the NJ Transit platform, the last train till 1:30 to Hammonton was leaving. So my dad had to come pick us up. A shitty ending to a really great friday night. Oh well, take the good with the bad I guess. I've learned to never miss an acoustic show, and that the more time I spend in Philly, the more it makes me want to get out of South Jersey as fast as I can and move there.

      Now I have no problem with handicapped people, they're great. But I just find the term "Power Chair" funny, because if you're in one of these "Power Chairs", then you're not really in a position of power. In fact, you're actually in a very weak position, but I guess everybody is at certain times. Alas, bravo for life's little ironies. And I know everybody does obesity jokes lately, they're kind of like Bush jokes, they're told over and over and exaggerated. But I must say, obesity is not a disease, food is not an addiction, and people who are insanely heavy and still have working legs(a functioning spinal cord is also a plus) should not be sold power chairs. They are for people who actually have disabilities that they didn't cause, or disabilities that weren't caused by insanely self-indulgent gluttony. 
      
      I love how there's supposed to be all this initiative to getting kids to live healthier, and yet nothing is done in schools. Come to think of it, a lot of things aren't done in schools that I'd like to be done. (Nudist tuesdays for the win!) But seriously, in health classes they don't even teach kids how to read the labels on the processed food that they eat, or at least they haven't in any of the health classes i've been in. The school lunches are complete shit, terrible fatty food that's played off as being a full-course nutritious meal. These schools could easily employ a few culinary workers to make decent and maybe even good lunches for the groups of youngins', but instead they need to spend money renting vending machines full of soft drinks and adding huge unnecessary additions to the school building. Oh well, so it goes.

 Y'know, the music "scene" in South Jersey is ready for some serious improvements. You probably don't care, but yeah, it's awful. It's not even a matter of what your tastes in music are, it's just a matter of the terrible monotony of everything that goes on in this hell hole. You pay 10 dollars to go see a show at some bar run by money-grubbing 60-year-olds that hate kids(not to say that ALL 60-year-olds are money grubbing and hate kids, just these ones in particular) in which there may be 6 or 7 bands, all of which sound them same, and the kids at the shows just spend most of their time outside socializing and smoking cigarettes. Concerning the musical genres, it doesn't even matter if the bands are death metal, emo, or indie, if they're playing around here they usually don't sound any more special than other bands that share the same genre label. 

I mean, it's not like South Jersey is very far away from any good music scenes. Just drive an hour or so away to Philadelphia and you'll find a great music scene, whatever your musical tastes may be. You can go to shows in houses, basements, abandoned squats run by anarchists, bookstores, or actual venues, whatever suits you. I'm not saying that there's no boring monotonous bands in the Philly scene, just saying it's much more exciting than anything we have going in South Jersey. Us residents of South Jersey are the only ones who can make things happen around here, and we're the only ones who can stop complaining and get out and doing something about everything we're complaining about. Then again, the citizens of the world are the only ones who can chose to have a more limited government, or to end rape, or to end all violence in general.

So, in conclusion, make some things happen for other people, and for yourself too. Or not. The decision is yours. You, living a life of decisiveness while reading some kid's livejournal posts. Yeah, so stop reading this and go outside. Please, for your sake and your family's, get off your fucking computer!

Delightful Halloween, drinking brandy by the bridge, fucking on the back porches of abandoned buildings, everything ensnared by the cool autumn air. God do I love my friends. Irresponsibility never felt so responsible, and light pollution never looked so beautiful. Not the kind of springtime beauty or the beauty of fresh cut flowers, but the kind of beauty you can see in a junkie pissing against an El Post or long nights spent waking up to the sound of coffee being made. Now at this point, I really don't know what I'm talking about, and I wish you would remind me. I really, really wish you would remind me, just once. We could go have a drink and you could remind me, it's on me! Here's a drink to pretentiousness! And here's another one to hypocrisy....and another to envy, and addiction, and everything else that makes life so wonderful!