Tuesday, October 25, 2005

It's November ladies and gentlemen and if you didn't already know it, now's the time girlies start wanting to pair up for the long winter ahead. You just can't meet a nice girl on Christmas or thanksgiving, you need to meet them new when they're trying to lock someone down to keep their feet warm under the covers until the stop getting shorter and everything at the mall starts to go on clearance sale.

A lot of people think I know a lot about girls. I swear to god I don't' but sometimes when people get an idea stuck in their head it hard to shake it loose. If you want to know the truth, they're all irrational and illogical and I'm pretty sure that given a choice between making and out and punching one of them in the face, there wouldn't be much hesitation to choose the latter.

But you live with two girls, they say. So what? You want to know what it's like to live with two smart, hot girls? Hell. They cry a lot. They're not stable. They never stop bitching about old boyfriends and new boyfriends and poorly their treated and all the tough decisions they have to make about inconsequential ridiculous things. They ask you if their outfit looks good and they're only looking for one answer. And as crazy as it is sometimes that answer is no. They think it's funny to jump under your covers to wake you up at 9 a.m.

But you work in a house full of 75 girls, they're amazing aren't they? Oh ya, it's real great to sit in the sorority dining room watching all the daddy's girls who quote bible scriptures on their facebook profile and then walk home on a sunday morning with their panties in their hand shove their face full of food in sweat pants because they only get dressed to leave the house, not to stay in. They shriek and they squeal and they make you happy to be a man.

But you're one of only two guys in a spinning class with a bunch of girls in spandex. Sure it's fun to watch for about the first five minutes until they all get sweaty smelly and flemmy. Trying to hit on me after class is a serious bad decision that they keep making.

Didn't you work at a magazine with 75% women over the summer? I guess I did. And I couldn't go one day without someone asking how my day was. I couldn't take a shit without the whole office knowing. And every weekend they tried to set me up with a different girl and the only girl I wanted that summer they couldn't make happen.

You want advice about girls?
Fine. I'll break it down for you just so we can move along to something worthwhile.

They like hot. Hot is good. If' you're hot you've got plenty going for you. But they think smart is better than hot. Be smart about how you talk to them. They'll eat it up. Oh, Hot and smart together already puts you past all the frat boys so don't even worry about them. We're fastracking past hot but you got to be careful because the key ingredient is funny. Watch out because funny beats the hot/smart duo almost every time. Add the three together and you're bulletproof. Be funny first. Then be smart. Then, be hot. And if you're not hot or smart (god forbid), get funnier.

Don't say I never did anything for ya k

Thursday, October 20, 2005

> I'd imagine the real split began before I was even a year old. When I had ideas but there just hadn't been enough time to learn the words to express them. And so it went, my inner-life travelled one way and my outer-life spun off another. I learned 'bye' and 'hi' and 'mama' but on the inside ideas, 'why am I here? Where did I come from? What's the point of all this rediculousness with the cars and the clothes and people always picking me up?'

I turned two and three and 10 and 15 and somehow the inside and the outside never fully matched up. For some people it did and to you kudos. Granted for most of those people it just means there wasn't much hiding under the surface in the first place but for the rest it's a special thing and as bad as it is to hold a lot inside for some of us, it can also be like your own secret treasure chest. Something all your own.

And for those of us like that there's a certain magic when you can peer inside others. It's the magic of musicians and writers and poets and artists. And the most amazing ones, the ones that really grab our attention, are the ones who we know lived a different outer life before music came along. And when people started listening it all changed. Suddenly the inside gets out. Even if it didn't really want out. The doors come down and the inner and the outer become one giant, screaming force to be reckoned with.

It's why we pay the brilliant ones so much and why we all dream of being rockstars one day. To stand up and show the world that what they know of you, what they see everyday has been filtered down to 2%. It's 2% of the jokes and smiles and the opinions and the tears and the anger and the screams and the creeps.

And I was fine showing the world my 2% and letting the rest of it simmer. But then something happened. I found out about blogs. And I started one. And somehow- don't ask me exactly how because it's all kind of fuzy- the inside started to creep. I didn't think the words on the screen would make any difference but then my mouth started to open more. I started to smile more. I frowned less. I stared pretty girls straight in the eye. It was scary as hell but what could I do?

The voice inside started to get quiet. Or did it? Maybe the outside voice was just stealing all his thunder. Outside was beating him to the punchline and after a while inside just decided it was time to pack up and move out.

I live a completely different outer life, partly because of the little drip-drop of posts that trickle out of here every couple of days and partly because I decided enough was enough. And if the music industry wonders why they can't sell me any records anymore, it's not because of Napster, it's because I don't need anyone showing me what they've been hiding. All that's just so 20th century.

I don't expect it to be like this forever. Eventually everything important will slip past words anyhow. Everything will will move backwards. To the very bneginning where almost nothing ever left. Outside will beocme inside. And everything important will simmer and settle and return form where it came.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Ah the power of youth. One day I'll be old and I'll be tired and I'll try to remember what it felt like to make girls fall in love with me and to see them smile and turn their heads and that feeling of electricity in the air that I'm sure no one can feel after 30 or so. There's so much power to being young and so few of you realize it. You won't realize until you're older and it's gone. I'm just finally coming into my own, really opening my eyes and I can't believe I've wasted so many years.

I made a new year's resolution last year. I don't make stupid resolutions about losing weight or working out. I promised myself I would learn to kiteboard. I don't live near water. I don't know much about wind. I didn't know anyone who kiteboarded. Not until two weeks ago that is. 2005 is soon to be a distant memory of blogs and LA and NYC and first true love lost and celebrities and sorority girls and snow and letting go and picking up somewhere completely new. So last week, with a four day weekend in hand, and random new set of friends in tow, we packed up a car and hit the road for 20 hours until the breeze smelled like salt, the wind blew as steady as a window fan and the water temp never dipped below 75 degrees. That, my friends, is the power of youth. That right there is what it's all about. Freedom. Pure fucking freedom.

And after 3 days I was gliding along the water, no roar of a motor boat, no nagging roommates, no lovey-eyed sorority girls. I am it. I am the american dream. And if you met me you would never know it. You would never guess all the secrets. But that's what blogger is for, right?

Monday, October 10, 2005

A part of this blog is where ideas goes to die. The bleed out my fingertips and onto the keyboard but I read them back and they just don't give me that tingly sensation. I'd imagine that when a musician finishes a great song it's pretty much the same feeling as reading a great post you've just written multiplied by ten, bounced of the audience and shoved back in your face amplified with screams and claps and boobies. But before that song makes it to the stage it gets cut and pasted and ripped to shreds and left as a 'draft' on the blogger page for months and months until another idea comes along and locks into it like a threaded nut around a screw. Put enough time into it and suddenly the screws are holding up this awesome tree house and then it's time to pack up your bags and take this little piece of my world on the road.

And that's my segway into this post, a random assortment of jewels buried in posts that I read back but could never bring myself to hit the "Publish Post" button. Don't be surprised if all these ideas resurface again in different forms in the future. And the next time around they're going to have had the proper time to marinate so don't be surprised if the kick knocks you on your ass.

July 2004
"I could probably call someone. But the phone doesn't ring. And I should get up. I should get up and get out and make a change. Make a change in myself. Make a change for someone else. Or maybe I shouldn't be impatient. Maybe I just need to relax. Cause maybe the change will just come if I let it. Sometimes you can't rush big changes like that. All changes happen in a moment. But maybe they just take a while to manifest themselves. For the change to trickle down your whole life."

August 2004
"And of all the people in so-cal to strike a chord with me, how was it a girl who I thought had so lost her way? But she had a way of making me remember that it's OK to make mistakes. She reminded me of my mistakes. Mistakes that at the time felt like the entire world to me. And now seem completely meaningless. And she told me to open my fucking eyes. Cause there's a big world that's not gonna stand still and wait for you to give it the go ahead. And maybe she helped me remember that the decisions we make are really half-chance. She told me to look at my fucking self. And I felt self-conscious. But she said, 'Remember you?'"

October 2004
"So I keep living to work at holding onto her. When all I really need to do is let go. It's time to let go. It's ok when everyone's a stranger. I'll fight the flow. . I do. I will. Hello, I love you, goodbye. Get out of my life."

January 2005
"1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
started a blog.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Last Year's resolution: Doggystyle. Mission accomplished. For 2005: Learn how to Kite-surf"

January 2005
"someday I want a message board devoted solely to the subject of me. Someday I want an ipod and a cell phone and a PDA and a digital camera all in one. Someday I want this blog to get 100 hits. Someday I want to give a million dollars to a charity. Someday I want to write a book. But not yet. Oh no friends, not yet."

May 2005
"Everything anyone has ever told you about LA is true. Celebrities roam the boardwalks and the streets while paparazzi follow in close pursuit. The weather is always warm enough for shorts but never too hot for pants. People are beautiful and all of them want to be actors. They'll give you their headshots if you ask them. The traffic definitely makes people go crazy and gun eachother down. And everyone is always watching you. "

September 2005
"If I could give one piece of advice to every single college kid in the United States today, it would be this: Put your fucking hats on straight."

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

You get to a point in your life where you never meet anyone single anymore. You can't. Shit, you're not even single anymore. There's no more of that first love freedom because people don't show up at your door after 2 a.m. alone. They come with their ex-boyfriend. They come with their hump buddy from last month and they come with every little tragedy and every little memory buried deep down inside. They don't lie there and think, "take me to places I've never been." They think " don't hurt me like Johnny did. Nibble my ear the way Jake used to. I wonder what Brian would think if he saw me here right now.

She doesn't lie in your bed alone. There's an entire chores of voices ringing in her ears. There are old wounds and scrapes and tender scars that never quite healed. Careful when you run your hands down her body because if you touch one of those she'll go running. And you're laying their with your own chorus playing in your head. When the smell of her hair sends me hurtling back six years under the stars in the old VW convertible with the top down and the loud exhaust roaring behind us into the night. When there were fewer cares in my world then dollars in my pocket. When I was young enough that every wound healed without so much as a rough spot.

the saddest thing in the world is when a girl who could have been amazing was treated like shit enough times that she'll never be what she could have been. You can hold her. You can squeeze her tight and tell her she's beautiful. You can make her giggle and smile and squirm and moan but you'll never be able to get those voices to go away. That bitch of a mother who never taught her to love the way she could have. That asshole boyfriend who still strings her along. That guy back home who she sleeps with whenever she gets the chance because she needs the escape.

Everyone starts with 64 colors in their box of crayons. And everytime someone treats them like shit, a few of their crayons get stolen. There just aren't as many colors to work with the next time around. She's drawing a duller picture even if you're still rocking with 60 in your box.

If I could go back in time I would kick the crap out of every guy before they had the chance to swipe those crayons. And I'd probably end up with a couple shiners of my own.