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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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It doesn't make any sense. I drank all day yesterday, and didn't get to sleep until after 3 something in the morning. and had to bounce awake at 7 am to get to work. I should have been the living dead. Yet I was filled with this manic energy all day instead. It was a lorn and lovely emotional space to be in, like my head was shot through with veins of crystal, letting the light come pouring in, and my bones were vibrating with the intensity of it all. I forgot my workout clothes, so I took a walk in the sun at lunch, and the way I felt, I could have talked anyone into anything, walked anywhere at all.

Part of it was the residue of a lovely Sunday, the first part of which was spent at the daKAH Hip Hop Orchestra show at Stern Grove. It's a comfy outdoor venue, the stage has all been redone since last I caught Arrested Development there a few years back, and where the field ends, the audience simply sits up on the hillside amongst the trees. The acoustics were just perfect. Friends, wine, food, and dialogue on writing and politics carried the afternoon from there. The later evening was filled with yet more friends, and though nearly every decent dive bar was bloody closed on Sunday night, Dave's on Third Street saved the day. Good conversations with people near and dear to my heart, and one exchange in particular helped me lick some old scars clean. Do me a favor this week, and tell someone you miss that you miss them. You don't have to make a big production of it. Just say it, clearly and unapologetically. Turning someone's world around is simpler than you know.

It's a pretty amazing thing, being human.

A couple of tragedies in a minor key: The gothic strip club they were having at Chez Paree on Sundays is closed, before I ever got a chance to go check it out. Guess I should have heeded the Mahler and gone earlier. The girls were even more crushed than I was, but supposedly the club will be reopening in a new location in the not too distant future. Also, Robert Moog passed away this weekend; give the man a moment of silence. He changed the way the world hears music.

Parting shots:

New snippet up at Haunt

They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard was unleashed on my unwary brain today. Now it won't leave...! Always... in my head...! IT'S IN MY HEAD!!!

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(Deleted comment)
I really dug the show, though I confess I tuned out a lot of the slower, jazzier bits while I was talking and catching up with friends. kingsnake, my current roommate, picked up their album as well. I got there way late, due to being opting not to step on the most retardedly crowded 28 bus I have ever seen in my life, people were smashed up against the glass like Zero Emissions sardines.

"It's a pretty amazing thing, being human."

I think she would agree.

Having seen the Carpark North video a while ago, I felt overcome with the same bitterness at its subjects then as I do now -- my inner monologue griping about why couldn't I have been as badass as those kids are when I was their age.

Seriously, they're pretty much set for life. They could all turn out to be cokehead rapists and the kid who pounded his fist and made the desks fly up will still be radder than I can ever hope to aspire to.

Youth is wasted on the fuseji.

I know exactly what you mean.

I'm a late bloomer if I ever bloomed at all, and leaving aside that these are ub3r elite hipster kids, my wardrobe was pretty fuckin' stupid throughout my school years. And even if I was smart, I was only smart enough to be jealous of legit child prodigies.

But you know what?
A) I'm discovering a lot of my favorite creators and people out there didn't really get their legs under them until their late 20's or 30's.
B) Kids are cool because you can totally kick their ass and no one will believe them about it.

If I can't be a prodigy, I can at least be a sneering anime thug before I become an angry old man. You gotta have goals. ^_^

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