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| Tuesday, October 19th, 2004 | | 3:27 pm |
"Will the fight for our sanity be the fight of our lives...."
"Now that we've lost all the reasons that we thought that we had?" Here's my two week's notice. All the paper work should be in order. It was a pleasure doing business with you all. Keep up the good work. I had been thinking about it for a long time now, and the journal has to go. I can be reached on IM as doblerian or through e-mail. Anyone who would have any interest in contacting me already knows the appropriate e-mail addresses and phone numbers. Thoughts and feelings have no business being expressed regardless of the strength of the feeling or futility of the situation. And all God's children said, "Amen." [today's subject is from the Flaming Lips "The Gash" off of the album The Soft Bulletin. I wish I had used more Flaming Lips quotes in this journal...I also wish the journal had been happier, and ironically I'll be happier without the journal. I've deleted the journal before (when some readers weren't happy with the content) and came back to it...so this time I'm just going to walk away from it for a while. I may come back someday...or just get a new one when I have something worth saying (which is something this journal lacks)...but if I wait until I have something to say, I'll be waiting forever]. | | Sunday, October 17th, 2004 | | 7:29 pm |
| | 1:26 pm |
The Gospel according to Saroyan...Part I.
I finally made it to church this morning. The walk over was crisp and drizzly with an icy rain. Everything was gray (including right and wrong). When I got to the church the pastor opened the service by asking if anyone else had noticed the snow this morning. It was good to see you Fall...welcome Winter. The basis of the service was the opening passage of the book of John (which I had never paid much attention to--preferring the more practical book of James). As the pastor read from the book (it opens by echoing the book of Genesis), I realized that this book...along with the book of Ecclesiastes...is a mirror of William Saroyan's writing style in the sense that both authors strive for a "universal" voice that is timeless and observes the cosmos from a crane shot...while still paying attention to every single thing (and lack of thing as the case may be) on earth. I have long maintained that if people read the Bible (various), The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze (Saroyan), and God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater (Vonnegut) they will have some idea of how to live with people. I used to carry at least one of these books with me at all times. Saroyan and Vonnegut have become pretty ragged with wear...the Bible...eh, not so much. But this entry isn't about what the authors say...it's about how they say it. If you're not interested in reading the Bible, the same stories and lessons can be learned from either of the other books anyway. Here's the opening of the book of John: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it." Here's the ending of a short story by William Saroyan: "The truth was secret, God first, the word, the word God, out of all things and beyond, spaceless and timeless, then the void, the silent emptiness, vaster than any mortal mind could conceive, abstract and precise and real and lost, the substance in the emptiness, again precise wand with weight and solidity and form, fire and fluid, and then, walking through the vineyards, I had seen it thus, the whole unverse, quietly there in the mind of man, motionless and dark and lost, waiting for man, for the thought of man, and I felt the stirring of inanimate substance in the earth, and in myself like the swift growth of the summer, life emerging from time, the germ of man springing from the rock and the fire and the fluid to the face of man, and to the form, to the motion and the thought, suddenly in the emptiness, the thought of man, stirring there. And I was man, and this was the truth I had brought of the emptiness, walking alone through the vineyards. I had seen the universe, quietly in the emptiness, secret, and I had revealed it to itself, giving it meaning and grace and the truth that could come only from the thought and enrgy of man, and the truth was man, myself, moment after moment, and man, centry after centruy, and man, and the face of God in man, and the sound of the laughter of man in the vastness of the secret, and the sound of his weeping in the darkness of it, and the truth was myself and I was man." The impression I get from reading these two samples side by side is that both passages sound like they were spoken by the same orator. The tone in John is much more subdued...it has an urgent "hush" to it. But by the end of the speech, Saroyan's voice is wide open, the hush gone, the crowd on its feet caught up in the passion. Both authors write with such a vitality and focus on issues concerning human spirituality, seeking truth, morality crises that affect us all, and the down and out (in all places...not just Paris and London). The Saroyan excerpt is lifted from a short story called "And Man." It's from the collection of short stories The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze. I swear there was going to be a point to this...I swear there was...I must have lost it somewhere. I guess the point is just about how I went to church this morning and found a new voice with which to read the Bible, a new energy. Or maybe this was just a trick to try to get you all to study your Saroyan. | | Tuesday, October 12th, 2004 | | 8:03 pm |
"I lost...my heart somewhere...can you...help me find it?"
My new user picture is of Charlie Mills enjoying a nice, delicious kitten. I'm not talking about eatin' it or nothin.' Just lickin' it. His cat gave birth to them today.
He sent two pictures of the kittens to me right after I got done talking to someone who used to enjoy pictures of newborn kittens. But who doesn't enjoy pictures of newborn kittens?
Charlie is cute too. If you don't know Charlie, you should. He lives up in Boston with Harmon and Fish. My brother used to live up there with them. I've always wanted to go to Boston. I've also wanted to play in a band with Harmon, Fish, Dobler (Rob on guitar), and Dobler (me on drums). A long time ago there was a band called 4 Days Wage that changed my life. I wanted to be those guys so bad that it was sad. They were the cool high school guys that I emulated during my formative years. I miss those days so much sometimes.
[Today's subject comes from an old Heal song called "Lost." At one point we combined the songs "Lost" and "Wind" to make an epic about the suffering and the hope that enters and exits our lives as we move through this world]. | | 5:34 pm |
THE ULTIMATE SILENCE
October 12, 1998
Six years ago today, Matthew Shepard was murdered for being homosexual.
What will you do to end the silence?
Click here to post this on your own page or weblogI'm not sure how posting this in my journal can possibly change anything (in fact, I'm sure that it can't)...but if nothing else it's a memorial of just how hateful people can get (maybe "memorial" isn't the right word...makes it sound like I'm celebrating...although, I do have a list of top 5 genocides, maybe I should do one for hate crimes...). Until now I had never seen a picture of him. Not that it matters what he looks like, but it's one thing to hear about it on the news and another to see a photograph of a real human being. | | 8:05 am |
| | Monday, October 11th, 2004 | | 8:34 pm |
Here is to the awesomest journalist in the history of journalism (unless Jon Stewart counts).
This post was meant to be posted a long time ago, but I didn't want it to be surrounded by my other crap that I had going on at the time. This post is to someone who deserves a special post separate from all of that. So here it is. Keep in mind this was written a while ago and I saved it as a Word document until I felt it was safe to break it out. "Here is to the awesomest journalist in the history of journalism. She came through for me in the clutch and overcame numerous ABSURDITIES and various farces to help me out. Sure, I could have done it myself...but it would have been half-assed like all the other things that I do. This person has also listened to my assinine whining about text messages and this person has watched me flagellate myself over past agonies for a while now...but this person has been there for me (especially this weekend). Friday: We hung out and I made some grilled cheese well-done (she likes them burnt). Then we did a little walking and went back to her place to watch some SeaLab and some AquaTeen. And then I got another cryptic text message and I unloaded on her for about two hours straight. Saturday: I began a top secret project and talked to her online all freakin' day. Subjects ranged from death, living for the moment, and "hopes and dreams." And then we watched Super Size Me. Somewhere in between there she took over the project and actually made it work. This person is of course, Miss Rachel Schmucker. Thank you so very much for your time and patience, Miss Schmucker. I owe you huge. You can read her version of it all in her journal. There is much more to write, but I am off to jam with Nick. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Also, I changed my livejournal bios in both journals...and have something a little more experimental in http://www.livejournal.com/users/musiqueconcrete. | | Sunday, October 10th, 2004 | | 11:25 am |
Like every stupid kid that thinks that they're the first in pain, the first to rip themselves apart.
Here's a little He Said/She Said thing that occurred to me. It was longer, but I wittled it down. I've often used music to get by, but this is the first time I've relied on lyrics by themselves. The trouble with songs is that the lyrics rarely literally apply to anyone's life, but the mood they evoke does. So imagine these on a mix CD and don't take them line for line. Take them mood for mood.
HE said: ("I'm Free Now" by Morphine).
I'm free now to direct a movie
Sing a song or write a book about yours truly
How I'm so interesting I'm so great I'm really just a fuck-up
And It's such a waste to burn down these wall around me
Flexing like a heartbeat we don't like to speak
Don't talk to me for about a week I'm sorry it just hurts to explain
There's something going on that makes my guts ache
I got guilt I got fear I got regret
I'm just a panic stricken waste I'm such a jerk
I was honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Is ever cause you pain
Oh
I'm free now
Free to look out the window
Free to live my story
Free to sing along
Oh (x4)
I'm free now to direct a movie
Sing a song or write a book about yours truly
How I'm so interesting I'm so great but I'm really just a fuck-up
It's such a waste to burn down these wall around me
Flexing like a heartbeat we don't like to speak
Don't talk to me for about a week I'm sorry it just hurts to explain
There's something going on that makes my guts ache inside
I got guilt I got fear I got regret
I'm just a panic stricken waste I'm such a jerk
I was honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Is ever cause you pain
Oh (x2)
SHE said: ("In the Way" by Ani DiFranco).
no you didn't just leave
I actually kicked you out
I couldn't hardly believe
that the words came out my mouth
you couldn't hardly believe
what you heard yourself discuss
and you packed up all your things
and you said goodbye to us
tell me what is in the way
in the way of my love for you?
tell me what is in the way
in the way of my love for you?
hafta get it outta of the way of my love
hafta get it outta of the way of my love
and now there's nothing left to lose,
and the screen just says "Fini"
and each night in separate rooms
we cry separately
and every day we yell
down each other's holes
two slippery strippers
swinging round two poles
tell me what is in the way
in the way of my love for you?
tell me what is in the way
in the way of my love for you?
yeah there's something in the way of my love for you
yeah there's something in the way of my love
so we took down all the pictures
and then we took down all the walls
packed up our expectations
piled them in the hall
yeah we bagged our future
kicked it to the curb
and then we stood there unencumbered
and we stood there undeterred
cause we were done clinging
to the things we were afraid to lose
and the only thing left
was a breathtaking view
you looked at me
and I looked at you
and we said, "How about now,
"what you wanna do?"
now there's something in the way
in the way of my love for you
now there's something in the way
in the way of my love for you
I have to get it out the way
out the way of my love for you
I have to get it out the way
out the way of my love for you
no you didn't just leave
no you didn't just leave
no you didn't just leave
no you didn't just leave
HE said: ("X-Girlfriend" by Bush)
(Spoken): Eins, zwei, drei, vier!
You only call me when you're down :: You only call me when you're down :: You only call me when you're down :: You only call me when you're down
SHE said: ("Hellhole" by Firehose).
You rot and you stink, go hang yourself you bastard! Don't do us any favors and get the fuck out of here! (take it up the octave and wail on it for a minute).
HE said: ("Train Wreck" by Glen Phillips).
She looked just like a train wreck
That could've been avoided
In a third world country
By a long stretch of farmland
Where the waters had run high
And washed the topsoil down the river
So that next year there would be no crops
She was as desperate as a salesman
At a company that's folding
But they haven't told the staff yet
That they're bankrupt and backordered
And they're funneling pensions
To the CEO's back pocket
So in one week they'll have nothing
I miss you girl, I hope you're fine
Good luck, love
Or goodbye
She's the girl from central casting
Always played the sweet young orphan
Or the hooker with the heart of gold
But she got her SAG card pulled
And turns tricks now on Cahuenga
She tells herself it's research
For her next and greatest role
I miss you girl, I hope you're fine
Good luck, love
Or goodbye
She'll call you up just to hear you say she's fine
Then she's gone away
And you know there's only one more time
You'll hear from her again
Well it's life informing art informing life again
Like every stupid kid
That thinks that they're the first in pain
The first to rip themselves apart
The first to try and live without a heart
I miss you girl, I hope you're fine
Good luck, love
Or goodbye
I want to see your face, even hear your lies
I miss you girl, I hope you're fine
Good luck, love
Or goodbye
| | Friday, October 8th, 2004 | | 8:56 am |
"We are building a religion. We are building it bigger."
And the As come rolling in. I got my "Rasta Mike" feature article back today, and to my surprise it was an A. I've heard Sharples grades easy, but I'm concerned with GPA...so As are always welcome. During walking/wellness I discovered how physically weak I really am...I can't even bench my own body weight. I struggled a lot with 170 and didn't bother trying to lift the 180 for fear of public humiliation (I shake hard when I try to lift heavy things...totally sucks). You know what this means. No, I'm not going to work out until I can lift more weight...I'm going to lose weight until I get to a weight I can lift. Only lifted 340 with my legs. I expected better from myself. But still, I got the A in Feature Writing. I plan on having the article in http://www.livejournal.com/users/musiqueconcrete. I haven't posted it there yet, but I hope to shortly. Not sure what's on the agender for tonight. I got my hands on some cidah for Miss Schmucker and company to sip while livin' it up in the hot tub. I gots the cidah if yous gots the strahs. Are we hittin' up the bah? Or are we seeing Joey from Full House? Or is something even more sinister in the works? The weather is awesome. Have you guys breathed this air? Even the air is more awesome these days. I've been manic for a week now...gotta' crash sometime.... But with all of that stuff off of my shoulders, even my depressions are happier these days. The monkey is off my back...and "the monkey has claws and long, sharp teeth" (forgive the Boxing Gandhis quote, please?). Today's subject comes from the Cake song "Comfort Eagle" off of the album with the same name. | | Thursday, October 7th, 2004 | | 5:20 pm |
I finally figured out how to add pictures...turns out it was in the rich text mode. So here is a picture of Angie, Mark, and I at Denny's the night before I came back to Edinboro. Good times were had by most. I'll have more pictures once I reload my scanning software (which is at home, of course).
I handed in my project today, and she said it looked really good...I thought it looked like hell, but it doesn't matter what I think.
Thank you for your time and patience. | | Wednesday, October 6th, 2004 | | 11:21 pm |
"Life doesn't matter when your'e twenty feet tall."
I got mad props from my sista' Miss Hallock tonight. She was actually proud of me. Or maybe she was sarcastic. Hard to tell. Either way it meant a lot to me. BUT. That was just the beginning of the night. Seth and I escorted Miss Siaobahn, Miss Bridget, and Miss Schmucker to the Empty Keg and then we hit up the Hotel Bar. All three are fun gals...Miss Bridget was the new one...and the surprise visitor. She's good fun. Rachel and I got a lot of time to talk, but everything is so noisy and everything had to be repeated three times before I got it. Still, it was talking. And it was good. I'm a tiny bit drunk right now. Like so slightly drunk that I just feel good. I probably can't talk worth shit, but I can never do that anyway. Zaireeka! The Critic just started! Could this night get any freakin' better? Maybe Duckman will be on next! Oh, I'm up working a project due tomorrow. I just need to put some finishing touches on it...could probably be done tomorrow, but I want it done now...just to be safe. Broke out the good pants and the "silky" yellow shirt tonight. I was chastized for not saying much, but I had a kick ass time...reminded me of old times back in Chambersburg. First time I've felt like that since I came to Edinboro. Same vibe and everything. [This subject is from an old Mama Tried song...one of my favorites...called "Twenty Feet Tall." I think it's one of my most original drum lines]. I can't talk, but I at least think I'm typing well. Very stream-of-conscious, though. That'll hurt me more than it helps me. Oy. I've written so much today...I probably won't post for a while after this. Not that anyone reads this anyway. | | 12:19 pm |
"And I feel like everything is empty...and I feel like everything is dead."
This just in: The risk of Dobler developing an eating disorder has been lowered to yellow. In my wellness class, I was determined to be well within my target weight class and the computer measuring system (done through my pants which adds thickness) found that I was significantly under-flabby by their standards. I still hope to achieve my goal of being 6'2" and weighing 150 pounds (the professor also confirmed that I'm 6'2"). I just need to lose 37 more pounds...and then I'll look good in that bikini...or at least fit into that jacket (pictured above). I will continue gorging myself until further notice. The LifeScan did say that I was like a million times more likely than anyone in the world to have a heart attack. But my overall "health age" is 19...I expected it to be 57. Just got off the phone with Mr. DiBarry. I hope he can come up to Edinboro soon...but it's usually easier for me to make it home than drag people up here. He and Angie should come up with Stoner (so they can split the cost). They can all crash here in my newly enlarged room. Looking forward to talking to Lana later in the afternoon. I met Bridget, and she seems very cool. Rachel (with the exception of me) has great taste in friends. She's determined to make me smoke pot, though. She doesn't realize that I've been held down and had shotguns blown into my face and I still didn't give in. Peer pressure, shmeer pressure. This subject is from a song by Jawbone Hill called "Godric." I was given the CD after a band I was in performed live on a radio station's morning show. I had seen them years before that at the Mars Hill in Chambersburg...it was sort of a "coming together" of different eras in my life. I had always sort of wondered what happened to those guys. They broke up. The song makes me think of the atonal opera Wozzek (based on the play Woyzeck). | | 7:06 am |
One of my favorite characters...after Carl, of course.
 You Are Ol' Drippy The Ultimate Aqua Teen Hunger Force Quiz brought to you by QuizillaThat last post is pretty childish, eh? But that's the way things have been lately. Remember when I said it was past tense? Apparently not quite yet, but it's definitely getting closer...still getting some text messages. And not the good ones like I get from Rachel, Tammie, and Jessica "Hessica Jallock" Hallock. Those are cool. Rachel's messages have me on this cidah kick.... | | 6:03 am |
Blah, blah, blah....
Another late night message from Sybil. I hope this doesn't become a trend. Apparently when she said I was out of her life, she really meant that she can say whatever she wants to me whenever she wants and I'm not allowed to reply. So in a strange way it's like we never broke up at all. (Ba-Dum Crash!) But seriously folks, I still hope for the best for Sybil, and I have no doubts that she'll get it. I don't think I've met anyone else who hates so many people (friends[?], family, enemies) and still mangages to have all of those people rooting for her to succeed--myself included, just like it was the day we met. My point is: if you're going to contact me at all, call me, and let's have a two-way dialogue with actual points. I've grasped the concept that you hate me. That's old news. You hated me when we were together. Lose the messages...and either go in peace (like I finally agreed to do--and I admit, it was hard because I still want to help out with the show and your movies...and I am sorry for any continued interference on my part, I just wanted to help the show, that's all...I've waited ten months for an Angry Red Planet concert and now I can't even see it) or CALL me. You know, it is possible to hate me and still appreciate the article. And you can say whatever you want about me, but leave my friends out of it. The only thing keeping me from blasting for hours about that is because she's smart enough to tell me to just walk away. I, on the other hand, am not that smart. So I'll go on about something else more text message related. There are plenty of reasons to hate me, but the one you've got isn't what really happened. You've got me wrong, Syb. I have never acted towards you with anything but love. We tried to be friends which was a joke because it was clear that we loved each other. When two people who love each other spend every minute together because you don't want to go home so you stay at my place and complain about how much you hate your mother, father, and sister (usually in that order)--or you're too drunk to drive--or you're scared of ghosts--eventually that couple is going to revert back to the relationship they had before (my mistake was not being able to turn people away). Asking you and I to be friends after our relationship was like asking God to become a man...or a man to become a slug. We knew what we had before and we didn't like the limitations of the new form. I didn't want the old relationship. I wanted a new relationship with a fresh start for us. I wanted the relationship that we deserved. I really only had one thing that we needed to do...anything else was just a way of reaching that one elusive goal. I just wanted us to start as friends and build to everything else. Nice and slow. I didn't even really care about abstinence...I just wanted to push sex off as far as possible. So yeah, I was wrong. I messed up. I slipped. But only because I still loved you and you still loved me and we were together every second of every day...what do you expect will happen? Fuck. I still love you. There. I said it. I can always edit it out later, but it doesn't mean its not true...but it's also fading ("Finally!" everyone who knows me exclaims). I'm still healing from "us"...or the lack there of. I no longer want to get together, but your specter still haunts the back of my mind. I'm forced to read this in a journal for all to see because I seriously doubt you'd read an e-mail from me...and I kinda' doubt you'll ever read this. You've probably got this journal blocked out by your internet provider faster than a free enterprise site in China. I have a feeling this whole entry is in my journal for a limited time. ---------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- --- But facetiously folks, I woke up this morning losing a lot of blood out of my nose. Fall is the season for bleedin.' Maybe it wasn't such a hot idea to rearrange my room so I can sleep looking out the window. At least I've got a large open space to pace in now. Whoever has the voodoo doll, I want it on my desk by the end of the day. Everything else is going pretty well these days. I still worry about classes, but at this point there's no reason to...the returned grades have all been good. [The subject is from a Minutemen Song...don't remember the name of the song, but it's off of Double Nickles on the Dime...if you own one Minutemen album, you probably own that one]. This very serious entry is peppered with traces of Rodney Dangerfield...today truly is a day of mourning. RIP Mr. Dangerfield. I hope you finally get that respect. This should be an article glorifying a friend who has helped despite my general bastardliness. She deserves a lot more than a livejournal entry, though. She looks like she could use some cidah and some burgahs from McDonalds. I'll see her at the bah tonight, though. Maybe I'll have a shot of Goldschlagah. I haven't had any alcohol since the last time we went to the bah...when was that? That was a long time. I've developed a reputation for double fisting Dr. Peppers, though. I think I need to delete this thing...this thing is nothing but trouble. BRIDGET IS IN TOWN! WOOWEE! And I totally knew she was coming. This started out as a really short entry, but I kept going back and adding things. It's not getting any better, though. So I probably shouldn't post it...but on the other hand.... | | Tuesday, October 5th, 2004 | | 5:48 pm |
Fat Man in a Little Coat.
Two new pictures: The default picture is titled "Fat Man in a Little Coat." That thing was like a wetsuit. The jacket was the size of a wash cloth so I put it on as a dare to myself (I was bloated from wolfing down a cheese steak at Rosalie's Fabulous Grill only moments earlier). Miss Marshall: did the coat go back to its original shape? Or do I owe you a new yoga jacket? The other picture is titled "Viper," and I am actually blurred as I strike DiBarry in the neck with my venemous fangs. This picture was taken by Amanda when we were still at Rosalie's. The third picture: This picture is a classic picture with much Chambersburg folklore involved...I call it, "Will and I Arguing on the Beach." I have yet to get MY roll of film from that weekend, but when I get it I want to put up a bunch of Saving Lisa pictures. Right now I have to get back to rearranging my room and preparing mentally for the Vice President's debate (which reminds me of a dream I had over the weekend where my ex-girlfriend's dad was played by Dick Cheney...it was soooo weird...but somehow fitting). Miss Schmucker is in for a surprise...hahaha! On a sadder note, I will be wearing black tomorrow to mourn the death of one of my heroes, Mr. Dangerfield. http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/nm/20041006/en_nm/people_dangerfield_dc | | Wednesday, September 29th, 2004 | | 7:40 pm |
In the beginning of time, I was all about cakes and pies.
Been a bit despondent, but not too despondent lately. So I've been trying to communicate outwardly to people, places, and things. Amanda called me last night during my night class...so I didn't take it and I haven't called her back yet. I tried calling Sam, but had to leave a message. I was writing my feature article (done, but it'll get peer shredded on Friday) when Stoner called me from the Denny's parking lot. He was a bit drunk, but not too drunk. We talked for a while and it was really, really good. Last time I saw him he was conked out on Adam's couch. Oh yes, the weekend of the Chili Cook-off. I went home to see Saving Lisa last weekend. I got home Friday night and got some messages that instantly depressed to the point where I thought that no part of the weekend could be salvaged. Fortunately Miss Dominique talked me off my rooftop and I headed to Denny's. I found in the Denny's one Larry and one Chris, and I sat and talked with them until about three in the morning--and things started looking up, but there was still the shadow over things. I went home and slept on the couch. The next day I went for a walk around the orchard and tried to absorb as much of the scenery as I could. Then Amanda, Angie, Mark and I went to Rosalie's to get some lunch. I knew a lot of people who happened to be working that day as well and they sat with us at various points. That list included Miss Ferris, Austin, Milton, and Joey (who has been cursed with five incredibly hot Italian sisters). So I'm cheering up a bit, but it's still on my mind. After that, I put on Angie's incredibly tight jacket (it was about the size of a wash cloth, but it's designed to stretch). There are pictures of Mark and I posing like this somewhere. Then Amanda and I took the vulva down to Hagerstown to witness the greatest spectacle of music, ladies and gentlemen I am proud to present to you: Saving Lisa (SavingLisa.com). The show was incredible, and it was there that I ran into Waylon, Jessica "Hessica Jallock" Hallock, Sam Bendah, Steph, Jude, Kai, Chris Ecker, Larry Harkcom, Katie Somethingorother, AMY ANDERSON!, Emily Twigg, Will, Adam, Stoner, and Dan, and of course, Dain Garland. Even Stoner's parents and grandparents were there. I feel like I'm forgetting people...argh. Oh, Kottie was there. Or whatever hername is. The show was set up in the outfield of the baseball diamond, and it was so awesome to just stand in this field and have so many friends around. The feeling was similar to my birthday weekend with Samakuk. I just kinda' walked around feeling sooo good...but still there was that shadow on things emotionally...so I couldn't feel too good. I spent a long time talking to Dain and then Miss Anderson and I had a moment where I opened up and kinda' let her in on what was going on. And then we headed back to Adam's to party. The party was awesome. Benchoff showed up with Jenna and Orrin showed up after eleven. Many people drank way, way, way too much and some bad things happened, but everyone still ended up very happy...so we were all winners. HEY! Andy Richtor's show has a guy playing a theremin. I think this is the first theremin to have a scene based around it on primetime television. Very cool. He's performing on it solo for a talent show! Kick ass! The theremin just exploded, though. That's not very realistic. Still it was very cool to have a theremin on TV at all. Anyway, on the way home my parents and I stopped at the Grove City Outlets and bought me two pairs of shoes. One pair is flaming red...obnoxious even. The other pair is straigh-up brown. It was good to just spend some time with my parents and walk around. My parents are the coolest people on earth. I really want to make it up to them someday. Show them that all of their trouble and sacrifice was worth something. That'll never happen, though. I'd like to thank Miss Schmucker for putting up with all of my bullshit this week. While I opened up to other people over the weekend, I really unloaded and complained to her for hours and hours and hours. So...thank you, Miss Schmucker. I had dinner with her several nights this week. A good time was had by...pretty much just me. Sorry about that. I also had lunch with "the Jenn is mightier than the sword" and her friends. Today I jammed with Nick in my room. Nick is a guitarist/singer guy. But this goes back to my insatiable appetite for redheads...dude looks just like Pete from the Adventures of Pete and Pete. He seems to think that we really hit it off and wants to play again. The weird thing is that he really liked my bass work...no one ever likes my bass work. He's already talking about demos and playing shows...I'm ready for all of that, but we'll see what happens. Perhaps I should get Lennon to play drums for us. Nick plays in a very jazzy/nontraditional style that really worked well over my less orthodox bass lines. He plays like a jazzy Larry Lalonde...well, I guess that would make him Todd Huth (the man in the strapping leather pants). Thank you for your time and patience. There's so much more to write, but no one wants to even read this...so why would I write more? I don't know why I do anything at all anymore. I just want to make some music again and be with my friends. Today's subject is from a drunken Orrin at Adam's party. He is also credited with saying, "Will Wilson just sat on my chest." | | Tuesday, September 28th, 2004 | | 5:06 pm |
It's your apathy I adore. Would you tell me you don't care at all? (Care at all?).
Sometimes I wish Will really had killed me that day. It would have been a good time in my life for something like that. I really can't think of a better person to be killed by...it almost seems fitting. Mike says that the people of Ethiopia have records from a time before mankind knew war. I bet they still had other problems, though. I love my parents. I owe them big. | | Friday, September 24th, 2004 | | 11:45 pm |
The toys...go winding down...the toys...go winding down....
Things have blown up again...for the final time, which is the worst possible way to get what we both need (but it IS a way to get what we both need). Here's to emotionally healthy futures free of cyclical pain and here's to rocks without hard places and here is to families supporting ALL of the members within the family so certain members don't have to look elsewhere for support that they should already have in the first place and here is to me not causing someone I care about pain anymore. It's about time one of us did the right thing...again. (No doubts, though, that it'll work this time because, unlike all the other times, this time we haven't left ourselves the option of it NOT working). I'm sorry for all the wrong things I do while trying to get people through tough times. But it's all over now. Period. I can't try to fix anything anymore, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, I can't possibly mess things up anymore. Times were tough, and without a doubt my presence made things worse even though I only wanted to be a safe-spot. I recognize that I was anything but a safe-spot, though. I've never thrown anyone in my life away...good or bad...not even when we needed it. And there isn't anyone in my life that I've deeply cared about that I am not still in touch with and still care about. Until now. It's all so much more complicated than all of that, BUT IT IS ALSO PAST-TENSE AS OF TONIGHT. Closure is a good thing, right? (Clinks glass, downs a cup of nails and glass shards). My friends are waiting for me...maybe. [This post will most likely be taken down soon because it tries to put a complicated situation that is over into a format that suggests a dialogue is still needed...But this is my farewell to all of it, I guess. More a sign to myself and others that I got the message, and that there is no need for further contact...not that any would have ever come]. | | 12:12 pm |
Because everyone knows that every night now will be Dobler's last night in town.
Czech it out bitches and beeotches, pre-ops and post-ops, distinguished members of the press, and you, my fellow Americans, a grand and noble audience: I will be appearing in Chambersburg this weekend only! Appearances will include the Saving Lisa show this Saturday and my "bedroom" (a third of the family room sectioned off by a bookshelf). Order your tickets now! I'd just like to take a moment and thank everyone who chose not to point out that I spelled musicconcrete wrong in the quiz in the last entry. Thank you for your cooperation through that delicate situation. This just in! John Henson of Talk Soup fame called and wants his "pre-ops and post-ops" bit back. Apparently I stole it from him. Can't copyright an introduction, ya' jackass. My attorneys are in th process of affectionately counter-suing him. This just in, whoever has the rights to the MST3K Episode guide is suing me for stealing Mike Nelson's "sue/counter-sue" bit. I'll return the favor by countersuing him...sue that, ya' bastard. Primus and Bill Clinton were also suing me for stealing their material, but we settled out of court. Sheesh, so much happens up here, but I can never remember it whenever I go to type it up. One of the highlights of my semester so far was the time I went to McDonalds's with Miss Schmucker. I think it went a little something like this: The agony of the decision wracked his brain as he looked over the menu desperately searching for an item on it that he wanted...or at least something that he recognized. It was hot and the pressure was pushing him to his breaking point. He looked to his tormentor for mercy, but the she-devil merely taunted him with her shriek, "May I take your order, sir?" Damn her! He would have damned her all the way to Hell, but he was sure they were both already there. The sweat in his eyes caused the signs signifying the signals to blur and swirl in a garbled mess that no one could honestly be expected to decipher...certainly not under this pressure. He turned to his companion for help or general compassion, but she merely said, "Will you make up your mind? You KNOW what they have here. The menu hasn't changed in like forty years." He was truly on his own now. Reaching down into his very being, he found the answer that he had been seeking within the emptiness in his stomach. "A double cheeseburger value meal!" he bellowed with courage returning to his voice. His words stunned the temptress. Then she let out a cry, "What would you like to drink with that?" His confidence now restored he pressed on without so much as a flinch. "Coke, please." She retreated back into her sinful lair to do his bidding. With his companion, the voluptuous Rachella of the Schmuckers (her personality as fiery as her red-hot hair) much breeze was shot. Finally the order was prepared, but alas! Our hero was well awarded for his valiant efforts of honor and valor because the she-devil appeared before him now not as a monster, but as a princess, and although he had ordered a double cheeseburger value meal--which everyone knows consists of one double cheeseburger, fries, and a soda--she presented him with a prize of not one but TWO double cheeseburgers, French fries, and a soda. Surely God was smiling upon this day proving that those who struggle are eventually rewarded if their cause is just and pure. He took the princess to be his lawfully employed cashier and gave her a dowery of twenty dollars. There was much change in return. Rachella and he continued on the path until they came to a suitable place to sup. The extra double cheeseburger was thrown away because seriously, who can eat that much? That's disgusting to even think about. Plus I'm trying to lose some of the weight. The moral of the story is that Miss Schmucker and I had a lovely afternoon blessed with an abundance of burgers, and when I left McDonalds I got to watch Rasta Mike, Orpheans Son, Five Empty Chambers, and (the love of my life) Ellis perform. I saw Rachel at the Ellis (aka the future Mrs. Dobler) concert, but she was far too proud to speak to me in such a public setting...and who can blame her? Not I. Not I. Also, the cashier from McDonalds was a woman from one of my classes who seems suspicously cool. That was last week. A lot of cool stuff happened this week, but it hasn't really set in yet. I'm really giddy right now. Weather is great, I'm about to get some freakin' lunch, and I'm going home to watch my favorite band of all time...Saving Lisa (savinglisa.com). Czech them out, and I dare you not to tear up when Will sings the line, "And I've never been alright--gasping for breath and bleeding out again." He says it a lot throughout the song...one of the times is bound to pull on your heart strings a little. To my Chambersburg peeps: I want to see you all this weekend. Every single one of you bastards. Because everyone knows that every night now will be Dobler's last night in town. This post will be taken down whenever I come off of my freakin' cloud. This air is just so...awesome! I can't get enough of this air! [Today's subject is a reference to the Ben Folds Five song "Steven's Last Night in Town" off of the album Whatever and Ever Amen]. | | Monday, September 20th, 2004 | | 12:30 pm |
There is a place in the red light district of your heart that I used to visit.
Had to post this. It makes me wish I had my hair still. Miss Hallock...Miss Jessica "Hessica Jallock" Hallock--How are you? Tell me things about yourself that are current. Does WayGay know that I have a livejournal? I am doing well up here. I'm pretty well taken care of by myself and others. Like, last Saturday Sybil talked me into buying this really little jacket. I was violently opposed to it (I punched a few people...and the coat a few times), but she prevailed...hell, it was only twenty cents, right? Possibly the best jacket I've ever owned. It ranks pretty well with the others: 1. The black jacket. This was a City Streets jacket from JC Penny. Most likely dated to the 80s, but it could have been a 70s coat. Belonged to my dad. Worn by me from sixth grade until after I cut my hair (right before Sam graduated). I lost it at a Heal show in Fairfield. The sleeves were white from about twenty years of people wiping their noses on the sleeves, but you didn't notice that unless you were standing pretty close to me...which no one ever does. 2. The coat my parents bought for me for Christmas. Quality-wise, this is the best piece of clothing I have ever owned, and I plan on having it for life. I think it's four years old now. 3. The GAP jacket. This gem was a gift from Miss Tammie Gloss. She brought it to me at the radio station one cold, cold Saturday morning while I was doing the Best of Bob and Tom (from 6-10AM). I never did repay her. The Christmas before that she got me this kick ass wallet. I still use both. This jacket is especially nice in the rain. 4. The lil' jacket. Cost twenty cents from Thrifty Threads. A bit emo. Makes me look not quite so bad as normal. Actually, that's every coat I've owned since middle school. There were two coats in elementary school and a few hooded sweatshirts from that same era. Winter is coming up, and I now have three coats at ready. About this: "1) for some reason waylon went to high five me (i think we made fun of someone? or cheated death?) &immediately after the incredibly subpar maneuver (i maintain that this was partially his fault) said, "you are so not aaron dobler right now." 2) in the car with mark and angie, mark was martyring himself (haha! watch my biased retelling of the scenario) in some argument &there was an exasperated, "oh, sure, you know what, you're right. everything's your fault. a regular aaron fucking dobler." which led to silence, followed by, "yeah, except that i actually am to blame for stuff." "i think he actually believes that everything is his fault, too." 3) another waylon situation, asked him something and immediately had him ask the question back.. "oh, awesome, we have another dobler now." "yeah, except it's cuter when he does it." "true." "'how are you?' 'eh. how are you?'" "aw, i'll get nostalgic." "he's a beautiful man."" This is probably the single greatest thing I have ever read. Totally made my morning. I see that my predictability has become not just a conversation style per se, but also a way of life and a unique perception of reality. Sorry about that. But about the line "we have another Dobler now" THERE MUST BE ONLY NONE! Take care of yourself, Miss Hallock. Today's subject comes from a Beulah song. Czech them out. I heard they're an Elephant 6 band, but they sound too polished. I don't have the case anymore. |
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