The Runcible Blog

I should be sleeping by now. I'm not that tired. I've been thinking about things, again and again. There's a lot of stuff but not enough time right now.

the short story: having no friends sometimes makes me sad. driving around town by myself is getting old.

I've been thinking of retiring my bass....or at least, putting it away for a while.

Friday's gig went well, but it got me thinking: where is the band going? And where am I going musically? I really don't have musical aspirations at this point or else I'd be looking for another band. TWC is moving along, getting gigs, and returning to the studio soon. But what does it add up to? It's not like any of us are going to quit our jobs and play full time.

The way I see it, if you're going to be in a band, it should be either very serious or not serious at all. Either you intend on making music a career, or you're content with playing around in a basement. But anywhere in between seems like a waste of effort. It takes a lot of time, money, and work to do typical band-related things. In order to get gigs, you have to have something recorded, which requires money. Then once you start playing at one place, you inevitably want to play at bigger or more important venues. That takes persistence, promotion, etc.

It doesn't help that I'm at a point where I feel that even though the band as a whole might be playing better, I'm stuck in a rut, playing the same types of stuff, or at worst, losing some skill that I might've had in the past. Even our "different" tunes are constrained by musical inhibitions. Maybe part of the disconnect is that the rest of the band members are 10 years older than I am.

I've tried looking for other opportunities in various bands, but that's a big hassle in itself. It's hard to find non-flaky musicians, it seems. I've thought about starting my own band, but unfortunately, I don't have enough original material on my own, don't really know what kind of music I'd like to play, and don't know anyone else who would join me in an experimental music venture. Besides, I'd only end up at this point eventually.

I tend to focus on one activity (and sometimes, one person) at a time. If I'm going to do something well, I have to push everything else out of the way. For the foreseeable future, being in a band isn't high on my list of priorities. I really need to devote some obsessive amount of time to photojournalism because that's what I intend to do as a career sooner rather than later.

That's what I'm thinking now. It's ironic that the reason I got back into a band after a few years was that I was tired of playing by myself and itching to collaborate with others. Now that it's become routine, I'm itching to cast it aside and move on. Who knows what I'll think in the future?

I started cleaning my room yesterday because I couldn't find my W2 in my piles. When I found it, I started to file my taxes online (don't get me started on that baloney). As I was typing in the fields from the W2, I thought, "hmm, didn't I make more money than that?" It turns out that was the 2003 W2. doh. I sifted through my desk again and found the current W2. After all that clicking, I'm due a pretty nice refund. I plan on spending it on twinkies and pogs.

that's a boring story.

The other day I had my first and hopefully last roadkill incident. I was on Route 133 at about 10PM when I saw a little possum wander into the road. By the time I noticed and swerved, it was too late. After thumping over him, I turned around to confirm that he was dead. And indeed he was. I was pretty sad about that.

At least it was a genuine accident -- unlike the time when I unintentionally killed a bird with a bb gun when I was about 15. Somehow I thought I'd just scare him away, but instead I shot him right in the eye while he was sitting on a clothes line. He died instantly. Boy, that was awful. I never tried scaring birds again.

Misplaced romanticism:

I know I'm barking up the wrong tree, but when you're inspired, what can you do? Forget about it? nah.

I feel special knowing that nobody else has written her name in the snow, but I'd feel more special if it made any difference. eh, no big deal. Eventually, I'll give up. maybe.

What a super night I'm having. I'm typing this from the porcelain throne because I ate some crazy stuff. Let's see, I had:

• 2 donuts for breakfast
• microwaveable macaroni and cheese for lunch, with diet lemonade (only because I didn't realize it was diet)
• a cheese on wheat bread sandwich for a 3:00 snack
• a bag of popcorn...
• grapes, to counteract the popcorn
• oreos, just moments ago.

Now I'm feeling a little bloated. And I've got to do something about this looming pot belly...Some of my pairs of pants are getting tighter (granted, they were just the right size with no room when I bought them). I tell myself that I'll be back to my mongoose-like physique when spring rolls around. (haha. spring rolls! gross)

Watching Alien vs. Predator a little while ago probably also contributed to my sick stomach. The movie isn't gory, but the acting, dialog, and plot are excruciating. It's like Turner and Hooch meets Pacman. The $65,000,000 budget seems to have gone to waste -- the action sequences show black blobs (the aliens and the predators) bouncing off each other in the dark at 3 frames per second. I can only assume that something exciting was happening.

I knew the movie was widely regarded as a dud, but I rented it anyway because, hey, it's ALIEN vs. PREDATOR! Unfortunately, all the critics were right, and I just blew $5.

Rewinding a bit, when I got out of my car at Blockbuster, I closed the door on the cord hanging from my coat in such a way that it was stuck inside the latch. I couldn't turn the key to unlock the door. What are the chances of that?! I cut off the cord and fiddled with the lock for a while. I almost got worried because the passenger side door lock doesn't work. I would have no way of opening the door. I opened the trunk, but the pull-down seats lock from the inside. Thankfully, after carefully turning the key, I was able to unlock the door without breaking anything. Geeze.

Well, it's time to flush this thing and get back to gluttony and mindless consumption.

Last week I went in to Boston to shoot some pictures, but first I stopped at Burrito Max because it's been a while since I've had a burrito fix. I learned a valuable lesson: don't scarf down a burrito and expect to be productive afterwards.

I headed into the subway and made it to Park Street. While waiting for the red line, I started to feel a little comotion in my stomach. I figured it would pass and went around in circles trying to walk it off. But as I was standing, the feeling wasn't going away, and my alimentary canal started waking up. I briskly walked back up to the green line. Sitting on the green line heading back to Kenmore, I could actually feel my butt sweating. Squirming in my seat trying to hold everything in, I couldn't even wait to get to Kenmore -- I bounded off the train at Hynes and powerwalked back to Kenmore.

As I got closer to Burrito Max, my colon, which seems to be connected directly to my eyes, began choogling even more. My powerwalk turned into a sprint. I slowed down before reaching the door so as not to look like a silly person and calmly made my way to the loo. Because of that whole eye-to-rectum connection, the sight of the toliet quickened my bowel movements to the point where I was scrambling to detach all my camera stuff and belt buckles and zippers.

Finally, I let er rip almost before I was able to sit down. Ahhhh....relief.

I came thisclose to pooping in my pants. If it wasn't for my superior skills in bodily function withholding, I would've made a mess somewhere around Copley.

Feeling uneasy after that ordeal, I just drove home. I didn't want to risk another potential disaster.

All I have to show for that day is one lousy picture:

I had several nightmares last night. I think eating a cheese sandwich just before bed must've caused it. I don't remember most of the dreams, but I know in one I was lost in a creepy house with a group of people that I knew (but I don't know who they are in real life). In another, I was with some unidentified girl in a store, and suddenly she disappeared. I must've spent 20 minutes (in dream time) looking for her. not exactly scary, but sad.

I think I'm missing what is so great about Clerks. I don't think I've seen the entire movie because every time I notice it while flipping through the channels, the acting is so lousy that it doesn't hold my attention. *shrug*

I feel much better than earlier, though still not quite right. I need to figure out what's going on upstairs.

And, yeah, I guess I worry too much. Maybe everything will be fine.