Author: jae

so
1) UPS were the ones who fucked up the order, and apparently will correct it theyselfs. yippee!
2) i got a callback on a resume today. first callback in MONTHS. and it’s not for customer service; it’s for web design. the guy said that he received a LOT of responses, too, and that mine was one of the resumes he wanted to follow up on. it’s a 55 year old printing company in Troy, and he’s expanding to do things like brochures and also electronic media such as web design. i’m terrible in interviews; i hope i don’t screw this one up. Friday, 2pm. must not forget or chicken out.
3) had a blast playing my electric guitar last night with no connection problems, no horrible intonation problems… i even accidentally learned Prince’s “Purple Rain” (those are some bastard chords, and i just kind of stumbled onto the whole thing, all at once – go me).

am stoked. haven’t even taken my SAM-e yet either! i think i might not kill myself today!

imagine my surprise:
i went back and checked my eBay-related emails and lo and behold, i did have a tracking number for that purchase i made over a week ago!

imagine my surprise:
turns out they were to deliver it today!

imagine my surprise:
when i got back from dinner in Covington, OH, it was here!

imagine my surprise:
the item looked to be in perfect condition! a Boss auto-wah pedal! (a sound effect for the guitar- makes that wocka-wocka noise from porn movies, without having to develop the ankular version of carpal tunnel (“metacarpal tunnel?”)).

imagine my surprise:
the only thing that i could find wrong with it was that it was not a Midiman Audio Buddy dual-mic preamp/DI box, which was what i actually ordered. arrangements are being made. i hope this works out, or it’s $75.^damn down the tube.

AND

imagine my surprise:
i also got my flush-mount output jack from Stew-Mac! i only ordered the thing a couple days ago (and selected the cheapest shipping option, no less)!

imagine my surprise:
no instructions. which connectors are for the sleeve, ring, and tip (corresp. to the plug)???    C|=|===[     ]

imagine my surprise:
the hole in the guitar is a little too big for the jack (go figure, the jack is a standard size; the guitar: NOT). i “fixed” it by wrapping it in electrical tape, coating it with silicone, and pounding the fucker in. hey, i’m buying a NEW body soon; i don’t give a rat’s ass what this one looks like in the meantime. i just hope it holds. it’s a really tight jack, so i have to be careful unplugging myself, that i don’t rip all the wires out like that nurse who dropped a vial of plasma on the tubes going into my arms at the plasma center that one time. yeah, like that.

just imagine all them surprises, all rolled up inta one.

finally got off my ass tonight and have just now finished not only reassembling my Floyd Rose (guitar bridge & whammy bar) (my only goal), but have also restrung it. i also went ahead and tried the lock-stringing method of stringing, which i really didn’t need to, since i have a locking nut (it keeps the strings locked in tune, a must if you have an extreme vibrato bar like the Floyd-types). to my surprise, i didn’t break any strings.

and i think i may have more or less fixed my intonation problem. fucking. a’!

i still have to:
-stretch the strings (oops! forgot…)
-plug it in and check the electronics. that’ll kill me if my jack or a pickup or something is fucked.
–eventually replace the disaster-wood with a REAL body. the neck is a $300 Warmoth, so it stays ;)

also, laid down preliminary tracks for my eagerly-anticipated (ok, by me only) update of my old darkwave jingle (from 1992!) “treachery.” something’s missing though. i may have to dig out the old Juno 106 and do the synth by hand, by god. it just ain’t got no balls the way it is right now. maybe i didn’t tweak the samples enough, or maybe i just overdid it with layering synths. (i just couldn’t find the right analogue-sounding sample, so i layered a few ones that were close-ish.) i need a 303.

also realized that i am going to have to dust off the TR-707 drum machine, because my sequencing program (get this: Music Generator, for Playstation of all things) just can’t handle odd time signatures, and the one song i most want to record is “like we are,” which is in something like 11/8, fer chrissakes. it’s a very Afghan Whigs -sounding song; so much so that for the longest time i thought i had accidentally ripped it off of them (hey, that actually happens a lot in rock and roll!), but one time i went through and listened to everything they ever did, and it’s not in there.

i get some time alone tomorrow, so hopefully i’ll get some vocals or piano done.

i was surprised at the acoustic guitar sound i got on my first try the other day (in fact without even trying at all). i think this is going to be a vastly better set of recordings, once i get it all together. thank god for compression*. i always slagged it off (when i was younger and stupider), but now i know far better than to do something idiotic like that.

p.s., Ann Coulter is a fucking creep who needs to absolutely be The First Against The Wall.

* compression is where you take the volume and squish it all up so that it sounds all nice and even and professional. all records are compressed during recording, mixing and/or mastering, and all radio broadcasts compress audio even further, which is one reason why radio always seems to sound a little sparklier than disc.

all right. i have something to say. and you had better fucking listen up.

this country is undergoing a sick mutation, like some kind of diseased Transformer (khu khu cheh cheh!). thanks to the efforts of those mongrel Republicans, damn near all of whom are rich white bastards who really ought to be LINED UP AND SHOT, we now have three Terrible Things that we can look forward to unless we fucking well get up off of our fat fucking asses and do something about it:

1) media.
recent legislation is making it possible for giant megacorporations to own most if not all of your media outlets. what does this mean, Bucky? this means that you will no longer get the news and information you need, or even want in some cases. and because of the double-edged sword of lobbying (a P.C. term for “payola,” otherwise known as out-and-out bribery), this paves the way for government control of what, when, how, where, and why you know what you think you know. this means that in the future, there will BE no criticism of our government’s actions. we are becoming a neutered democracy; a democracy only on paper. and that paper is conveniently stacked next to the shredder, of all things.

2) imperialism
rich white bastards who like to think that they have the most glorious penises in the whole fucking universe like to run roughshod over anybody who stands in their way. no, seriously: they REALLY LIKE DOING THAT. it is not just coming to light recently that the Bush administration had practically ZERO EVIDENCE that the otherwise dastardly Saddam regime had anything more than bad intentions… it has come to light already. the evidence of our lack of evidence is out there, it is being reported every single day, and nobody is doing a god damned thing about it. we are showing the world that not only do we not give a rat’s ass about people in other nations, but also rather LIKE to know that our so-called “leaders” are abusing those people in every inhuman way imaginable. and when we DO try and stop them, they just calmly enact “Patriot” Acts on our asses, to keep us in line. and you know what? IT WORKS! they’re winning. does this make you sick yet, Sparky?

3) economics
and if there is ONE THING that gets my goat each and every single time, it’s the American Way of the Rich getting richer from the hard labor of the poor, and the Old getting by on the backs of the Young. tax cuts for everyone… if you’re rich already, that is! and who will pay for this frankly mean-spirited attempt by the Republican party to pound the final nail into OUR COFFINS? why, we ourselves will, of course! we in Generations X and Y have known for years that Social Security would not be waiting for us when we finally got too old to work. NOW there will be NOTHING WHATSOEVER for us, thanks in no small way to those moronic 60s rejects who clearly SOLD THEMSELVES AND THE REST OF US OUT for a nice big fat fucking payoff. publicly-funded wealth! (talk about the American Dream!) …Baby Boomers have been on my Shit List for years, and now i have to give them their own special category. if i only could, what i would do to their kind would be immoral and wrong. they are sick, depraved greedheads who need to be taken out back and put down, just so the rest of us can have a halfway decent chance at survival.

i doubt you have. you like getting fucked every which way, don’t you? the question is: how much more of this can you handle, before you break in half? how much blood can you give? when you have given your last drop to these gluttonous pigs, what will you do, and will it already be too late?

They have been kicking you and kicking you, as if you were nothing more than a dog to them.

i have been kicking you and kicking you, trying to warn you about the imminent threat, and STILL you refuse to wake up.

also something i learned from watching that movie:

Nico herself stated that Bob Dylan introduced her to Andy Warhol. jesus! that man’s greatest achievement, notwithstanding his own amazing and godlike contributions to the world of music and literature (&c.), is introducing all the Important People to the very things that made them important! it is said that he introduced The Beatles to marijuana, for chrissakes! he has put 2 and 2 together and come out with FIVE more times than anybody else on Earth, including Uncle Albert!

i want in on this action!

so i am going on record, right here and right now, to state the following:

Bob Dylan introduced me to the fucking alphabet.

i watched Nico Icon today. as i watched the images unfold on screen, i came to the realization that i was seeing something terrible and familiar, like looking into a pool of mercury, ripples threatening to spill over the sides of what awful vessel just barely holds them back… i saw angels, burnt to a crisp. broken and bloody fallen heroes, walking around inside of their own corpses, as if they didn’t know or hadn’t yet been told that they were already dead. human ironies, endless travesty and tragedy… the spectre of Seth on a vector of Death.

i saw an alternate future of mine own, wherein i myself walked with Death over shadowy wastelands of despair and tragedy.

an alternate future. i will not call it mine; not any longer. it was not meant to be, and it isn’t and won’t ever be.

i will never forgive my mother, exactly, but i am glad that i was worthless enough for her to throw away; had she brought me with her on her dark and restless journey into that perilous Endless Night, i feel certain that i would not have survived.

i didn’t know she turned her own son on to heroin. seems to me that there could be no better way to sell your soul into evil. no wonder she was a ghost, or was it vice-versa? as in: no wonder she turned her son into a junkie? poor kid. i’m not sure how old he is, but he looked pretty lost, even if he was coherent. they never really said if he was still using or not, but he did say that she went on methadone in ’86 (she died in ’88, an event i don’t even recall).

the film ended with John Cale doing a truly haunting cover of her “Frozen Warnings”. it still echoes in the cave that is my long, dark (, empty?) soul.

i have found amphetadesk. expect me to be missing for much of the time. my goal is and has always been to Know Everything, and this tool may aid me somewhat; though i know i will ultimately never, ever reach that too-lofty mark. but at least i’ll be able to know more things quicklier, without having to resort to using up my 10 points of Livejournal syndications.

i got defriended last week. i don’t blame her; i tend to vent rather venomously, and i did after all have something to vent about (i cannot stand to feel like i’m being taunted). always a roller coaster with her and i. roller coasters are fun, and a little scary at times. but i no longer trust them. que sera, sera. i wish her luck, and love, and all manner of Good Fortune.

interesting, this latest “say-50-things-about-50-people” meme going around on livejournal. i was, for once, a bit ahead of schedule.

(EDIT: and the always-ON mymetamorphose was even further ahead, with slightly seriouser entry on april 25th!)

fast-forward to September 2009:

nobody will ever buy this thing. i know it’s only been a matter of hours that it’s been available, but i also know that nobody likes to pay money for anything, especially when they can get other things for free. this whole thing has been almost useless. almost, because at least i learned something from it.

i am 31 and 2/3 years old, more or less. 31 = 13 and 2/3 = 23. and nothing makes any difference in the end, really. i mean, not really. if i had an extra pack of smokes per month, it wouldn’t matter at all. if Belgium nukes the Philippines, it still wouldn’t matter. we are all going to die someday.

going to bed. maybe i’ll watch one of the two $1.99 videos i got today (Nico Icon and Sun Ra: A Joyful Noise).

it’s official. get a new browser. MSIE is dead, dead, dead.

more from Jeffrey Zeldman…

concerning musicians, and me:

one last thing before i get back to work on the website maker thingy…

this is about the woman who is sleeping in my dead grandmother’s bed as i type this…

when i first knew Mary, she was 13, and i was 6, or 7. i knew her because her mother, now long dead as well, was fucking my grandfather.

my grandfather, for those who don’t know, was the closest thing i ever had to a father, having been raised by my grandmother since i became something called a “ward of the state” (and what a shitty “reward” i always thought i was – the worst consolation prize ever).

she is a professional musician. “RJ,” as she calls my grandfather, has always been 100% behind her musical career, while telling me that i have to get in line and follow the rules of society.

i now have gout, and couldn’t perform if i wanted to, even though on some days, i risk heart-stopping pain just to strum a few chords. she belts out the most contrived Kansas City blues you ever heard. you’d think that her name was “Big Mama Wyke,” and not “Little Mary.” she’s really good, but it’s just so done.

i remember fondly listening to her at the age of 13 singing and playing guitar with her mother, who used to fuck my grandpa. they played bluegrass. it was the best thing you’d ever want to hear in your life. i don’t know how or when she sold out, but she sold out. like i said, at least she’s good though.

in fact, i don’t think my grandfather even knows i HAVE recorded my own original music, or that i continue to write my own original songs to this day. at least, he never mentions it. he knows i play, so it’s not like something where noone in the family knew or anything.

everyone has their preferences, i suppose.

i decided long ago that i’d rather just wait until both my grandparents were gone before i really try to make any more music on any serious level, just because i don’t want to embarrass them, and i sure as hell don’t want them (now just him) to make fun of me. i hate being embarrassed.

actually, i have nothing against her or anybody else. no animosity whatsoever! i just wish things had been different, that’s all.

shut up. don’t tell anybody i told you this!

o.

m.

G!

thank you, yet againly, tyrsalvia, and thank cegan523 for me also.

best. cybersex. EVAR!!!1!

in this time of ever-more-rapidly dwindling resources, we can no longer afford to be Luddites. we must embrace technology, as a means to help us get back to nature.

i’m having Orange Fanta Screwdrivers tonight.

the last time i had Orange Fanta was in ’96. i remember well one of those last occasions. i hadn’t seen Fanta in years. it’s all over Europe. where we have Mountain Dew, they have Fanta Orange.

it was the day after my birthday, and i was in Vienna, Switzerland, at the train station. the day before was miserable and drizzly and we saw racist propaganda graffitti all over this sort of weird concrete micropark near our hostel. i had a shitty birthday, with no booze. our friend Sebastien (who was crazy as a loon – more later) wasn’t feeling well and stayed in his room. me and the girls (my friend Ria, who asked me to Europe in the first place (we would date for a few months, a few months later), and our brand new travelling companions Paola and Emily) went out. i was pretty broke (in Prague i had to call home to have money wired to me so i could continue – my friends went on without me, but that’s another story).

more on those crazy kids: we met Paola, Emily, and Seb in Munich a couple days before, and we all split two rooms. we got hella drunk, and i (as is my wont) ended up leaving Hofbrau Haus and stumbling directionless until i happened to find the hostel (how? i do not profess to know such things). Paola is a beautiful dark-haired Swede with a Cuban father. she liked raves and reading underground-y novels (esp. that crazy Irving Welsh). she was a Beautiful Person. Emily was the funniest person i’d ever come across – a true comic genius, and super nice to boot. she was from Pennsylvania somewhere. Seb was an Englishman with long blonde hair. quiet most times, but also fun and definitely quite mad. a real hoot. Paola and Seb hooked up in Munich. Ria and i were just sort of dancing, although she had a boyfriend in the Navy in San Diego. (we were both living in Jacksonville, FL at the time.)

so where was i? oh yes. Vienna…

so we went out to walk the night loose. we got directions from a lone character to a cool underground bar where they played nothing but metal. the girls had a beer each, but i had no money, so depressed, i walked back to the hostel. later on, when they arrived, the door jockey wouldn’t let us in. luckily, a rather brazen English chap who was out tour guide (on Eurobus) showed up and really ripped into the poor bastard until he let us all in.

the next day we were bumped off the bus due to overbooking. it turned out that all of Australia were on holiday in Europe, and half of them were riding Eurobus. me and Seb wrote “Eurobus SUCKS!!” in the grime on the back of the bus, we took a picture, and then deliberated on what to do and where to go. we all decided we’d go to the train station and go to Prague, where we were supposed to go anyway. we had just enough money, and a little extra.

so we get to the train station and buy a liter or two of some cheap vodka and a lot of Fanta. we sat on the floor in the train station for hours playing fucking drinking games. it was a riot. local Viennese would come up to us and watch us playing “Presidents and Assholes.” one elderly gentleman just stood and smiled. he didn’t understand, but it seemed to give him great joy watching us having a good time, playing our drinking games right there on the floor in the Vienna train station, which in turn of course made us feel real good, too.

at some point, the subject of the film The Usual Suspects came up. Seb said that he KNEW (his emphasis) Kaiser Soze. he hadn’t seen the movie, either. hence, our collective assumption that he is quite definitely insane.

so we boarded the train finally, and continued drinking until Ria and i got into a huge argument (my fault… she was pushing my buttons as we argued over the merits of certain beers, for chrissakes). we were so drunk. that crazy Irish chick tried to throw me off the train somewhere in the countryside! i would have deserved it, too! we were screaming and cursing… poor passengers, i’m still shocked we weren’t thrown off the train. later on, Paola came to me bearing such sweetness it still just really affects me. she was only 18 or 19, but she had the best head on her shoulders of all the rest of us combined. wise, sweet Paola…

we squatted in the eerily empty Prague terminal the next day until Seb’s brother came and took us to show us around. he almost got us arrested by buying us all KIDDIE tickets for the metro… there were some seriously tense moments when the police showed up. (the Prague metro is amazingly fast, and you can really feel it… the escalators are super steep and very very long as well. i think those crazy Czechs have a thing for danger or something. i digress againly…)

later (in a couple of days), Seb disappeared, and even his brother and his brother’s wife appeared to have completely vanished without a trace. and we got to see Meat Beat Manifesto on Hallowe’en.

thank “Bob” they brought it back here in the states again, finally.

in about two hours i will drunkenly write a horrific, rambling, incoherent mess about how much i love and miss dear sweet Paola.

logo selector down,
Europa template down,
Titan template down. + Ganymede
 4  3 more to go:
Ganymede theme
Triton theme
Venus theme
Holding Cell theme

friday the thirteenth and it will be ready. it may be one minute to midnight, but it will be ready. completely.

• 1 new theme = 98% complete. it was a bitch royale w/ cheese. but i can work around ANY problem.

• the new skin is pretty cool. green sky, gray land, weird blue brush. corroded chrome borders. menu has a sort of rearview mirror thing happening, if the mirror were framed in homemade corroded chrome wire. i think i got all my colors down fairly nicely.
• still haven’t tested it in Opera yet, though. heh… heh… feh.

• i definitely have ideas about what to do for a couple of the other 5 themes. i will go with simple. simple is best, especially during hardcore eleventh-hour crunch time.

• shut up. if i had a job, i’d be drinking Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Anchor Steam, St. Stan’s Red Sky Ale, or one of those literally demonic Belgian-inspired Quebeçoise Unibrew beers (Maudite or La Fin du Monde are my faves but they are all like god sliding down your throat in silk pajamas.*)

* with apologies to wine critic Michael Jackson

according to the amazing and amusing Mick Fleetwood, Fleetwood Mac are adding Cincy to their tour.

i. am. fucking. STOKED. like a puppy in a puddle of poo.

success!! if anyone needs me for anything, i’ll be tweaking hardcore.

er, tweaking code, that is.

there is apparently a mirror site in Chinese. does anybody read Chinese? ironically, that girl i screamed at the other day can. but she’s no longer my friend, i gather. feh. i really should try to control my outbursts, and i would, were it not for the fact that i do not choose to do so.*

also, some Czech site mentions the mars s.t.s. – anyone read Czech?

so yeah. things are getting weird. and i am actually starting to catch fire from burning through code. no shit, i seriously actually am in reality. ouch. < --see??!
* with apologies to Spinal Tap and Cher for stealing their joke.

run out and buy the new CMJ New Music Monthly. then read the “review” of the new reissue of Throbbing Gristle’s 24-hour box set of their entire live catalog. it gets pretty close to the actual experience of listening to a TG record, actually, which is saying something. something like, “haaaammmmm burrrr gurrr laaaaay-deeeeeee!” …anyone unfamiliar with Throbbing Gristle should definitely also go and get either Throbbing Gristle’s Greatest Hits (always my vote for most ironic album title, EVER) or 20 Jazz Funk Greats, which are the closest things you’ll get to “accessible,” at least in connection to that fucked up band (and, by my count, DAMN FINE ALBUMS ANYHOW). hell! crazed, sense-deprived fucks like Negativland, Sonic Youth, Einsturzende Neubauten, and yes, even (Genesis P-Orridge’s post-TG band) Psychic TV can’t compare to the sheer, abrasive, unbalanced, completely senseless, migraine-inducing, teeth-rattling, MIND-HORROR that was Throbbing Gristle.

my god, the grinding. the grinding!

2 hours of sleep. still working on figuring out why the fuck

variation on meat-thing.com/mars/test/

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doesn’t work.