Sing on sweet universe...all the hits in B flat.

I am profoundly moved by music. This does not make me unique. I don't know a single person who in no way connects with music in some form. I think there is a lack of good music in my life.

Today I read ramblings of a person who thinks a lot. But his thoughts are ungrounded. His writings is unfounded. He has his defenders, but I know what I think.

Today I read ramblings of a person who thought a lot. You could hear despair in every word. Every word he sang as well. He killed himself almost exactly ten years ago. Funny that I still hear his voice now and then.

Today I thought a lot. It's time for me to do what I've always said I'll know when it's time.

Sweet Emotion

We live in a time of moral abiguity. A time when a U.S. President can be impeached for lying about a blow-job, yet another U.S. President can be praised for lying about reasons to go to war. A time when some second rate pop star's boob will cause more discussion and controversy than the fact that 15 of 19 of the 9/11 hijackers were from an allied country. A time when the phrase axis of evil refers to three countries that in no way resemble any type of axis by any type of definition...except on created entirely for it's own reason. Semantics I say. What fun is the english language if not to entirely fuck up anyway.

There are no poets anymore. Perhaps the words have all been said, and recycling is going out of fashion faster than Atkins is going in. Funny thing that. Dr. Atkins died obese with completley clogged arteries. Unfortunately he may be taking a lot of stupid, but nice folks with him. They will lose weight though. Perhaps all that weight loss will get them fucked after all.

Today, Hamas leader Rantisi said that George W. Bush is an enemy of God.
Rantisi said “We knew that Bush is the enemy of God, the enemy of Islam and Muslims. America declared war against God. Sharon declared war against God and God declared war against America, Bush and Sharon. The war of God continues against them, and I can see the victory coming up from the land of Palestine by the hand of Hamas."

Now I don't know what all that means from a Muslim point of view, but it don't sound so good.

I've thought about it...and I just can't jump onto the hempmobile bandwagon. A toke up here and there is whatever it is. I have learned by sad experience that much more than that makes the frybaby stereotype very true. It's impossible to be productive and stoned. Or if it is possible...I haven't yet met the person who can do it. Now I'm not saying I'm against it...I just don't need to wear it, smoke it, eat it, sleep it, gas my car with it, free slaves with it, fly to the moon in it, solve world economy problems with it, destroy Godzilla with it, and all the other bullshit that the acivists say I can do with it. Getting fucked up on a friday night however...well even that won't get me laid...and isn't that what it's all about?

I still think that Phill Collins is much much worse than Rod Stewart. I think that no one should even try to wear jump suits. I think that sometimes the answers we want aren't really the answers at all. I can take it though. Whatever it is...I can take it. And in the end...I do...I really really do...
love all of you.
J

FONKEYMUCKER

Yesterday was the Ides of March!!! Did you beware? I didn't, totally slipped my mind. Oh well, maybe next year.

and it goes a little supn like this...

so apparently there is a four digit code that is used by the FAA that pilots are supposed to immediately use if a plane is hijacked. not a single one of the four planes hijacked on 9/11 used this code.

A piece of the pie

There’s this really strange phenomenon at LVLT that I can’t explain. It has to do with my cell phone. First off I get really shitty reception there. I don’t know why. I also don’t get that great of reception in my house. I used to, but I don’t anymore. My phone really sucks. But the real problem that happens there is with the battery. That place drains my battery. For no apparent reason. I’ll go in fully charged, and if I’m there for more than a few hours…even if I don’t use my phone at all, the battery will die. The phone will just sit in my pocket, I won’t even open it up, but the battery still completely drains. The RIO does the same thing to me. Even with a full night of sleep and plenty of rest, after just a few hours in that place and I feel dead. I leave and I feel sluggish and stupid. It’s funny too, because again, there’s no apparent reason. What I do is not, by any stretch of the imagination, physically taxing. It’s mind numbing only because I don’t use my mind at all while I’m there. I’m a trained monkey. Push a button, pull a lever. Writing is the only thing that really helps me to think. Directing also, but I haven’t been doing much of that lately.

Today Lee Boyd Malvo got a life sentence for the DC area sniper shootings. Yesterday John Mohommed got the death penalty for the DC area sniper shootings. The funny thing about that is Mohommed was the driver. Malvo pulled the trigger. Hmmm. Of course Malvo was under the age of 18 when he did the shootings. Lucky that. It’s the only reason he’ll be allowed to live. Of course when he was picking off innocents he didn’t give a rats ass the age of the victim. Funny that.

QUOTES

All men lead lives of quiet desperation.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fuck Emerson.
-JayC Stoddard

Keep on Rockin in the Free World

When I was in high school I wrote a lot. I was a good writer and I knew it. My father also knew it. He told me that’s what I should always do…but in high school there was only one thing I truly wanted to do. Be a Rock God of course. Rock Gods were cool. They inspired generations of thought, conversation, and passion. Rock Gods had cool hair. Most importantly of all Rock Gods got laid. It didn’t matter at all that I would never have cool hair. I was a lyricist. I could write. My words had power. It’s true. They did. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t play an instrument to save my life. The only one I could even remotely make somewhat decent melodies on was a piano. No True Rock God plays only the piano. John Lennon played piano, but also guitar, and everything else. Billy Joel plays piano…but come on, that’s Billy Joel. No Rock God there.

It also didn’t matter that I couldn’t sing. I could carry a tune all right, but there was no beauty in the voice. There was none of the passion that would tear the clothes of women. That didn’t matter. I was destined to be a Rock God because of one reason. My band had the coolest Rock Band name ever invented. We were DERVISH. Bruce and me. He could play guitar. Brian was in the band too, but he didn’t play anything. He also didn’t sing. See that’s what the band was. A group of friends. Nothing else. We would get together and listen to all the great songs we would cover. We’d sing along. We’d dance. I’d figure out the basic chord progression on the piano and we’d figure out how to really play it. The coolest part about all of it is that we didn’t even have to produce results to impress people. We just had to tell them we were a band, and our name was DERVISH. We had groupies that would follow us around. In high school, that’s fuckin awesome. We were the shit for one single reason…we said YES. Nothing mattered. The fact that we would never EVER be musicians didn’t matter. For a few short months the fantasy was fact.

DERVISH had two public performances. The first was the summer of 1992 at the Uinta County fair talent show. We performed John Lennon’s Imagine. The crowd went nuts. Honestly there was screaming, and girls loved us. It’s amazing the ease with which you can make a girl want you…just use someone else’s words and music and make them your own. We had our picture taken during performance and were in the newspaper. Afterwards we signed body parts. Our names…the bands name…whatever. We talked to people for an hour and a half after the performance. We flew high on that for years. It’s true. This happened the same week my Grandfather died. Two weeks before I went to college for the first time. That was the end of DERVISH because I was gone. The band was done. We didn’t win the talent contest. I found out why as I listened to the recording of the performance years later. The piano and the guitar were not tuned to each other. It sounds awful. It makes me laugh now. Especially in retrospect, because there really was screaming, and applause, and it was glorious.

The next time we performed was a one night only, impromptu thing two and a half years later. I was now home from my mission and engaged to be married. Bruce and Bryan were already married and were giving me a send-off. We were in the public park, and all the shit was set up. We played a bit, we had fun. We did a completely improved song called “My house burnt down.” Bruce had already written it musically, but it had no lyrics, so I made them up on the spot. It was hysterical, and it was a big hit. So much so that they requested we do it again. We tried. Musically it was exactly the same, but you can’t improv lyrics exactly the same way twice. Oh well, we still had a great time. And again people liked us. Rock Gods we were not, nor would we ever be…the dream was gone, but it was a fun ride.

Now I very rarely touch a piano. I wrote a song for Erica when we first met. I tried it a few weeks ago. I forgot most of it. Erica had to remind me most of the words. I am no Rock God. I can still write though. If only I could focus it on something. Something real.