Haven't updated all summer - so much has come and gone, passed through me like the wind. Those four months were as close to magic as I've gotten, considering I lived alone for most of them. It was a period of self-reflection, of experimentation, of relaxation, of comfort and happiness. As soon as it started, it ended, and everything was boxed up and sent back on its way. I have returned to Allendale under a different mindset, and certainly wearing different shoes (almost)

I thought out loud today that I feel like I can never balance anything correctly. For the longest time I have been trying to make up for lost time, trying to have the fun I should have been having years ago. For most of my life I've been a spectator, and it really is crushing when anxiety gets the best of you and silences your tongue without your consent. I don't know if everyone feels this way, or how I can solve it. This haunts me periodically, and I can pinpoint more or less the catalyst that started the spiral this time. The answer I've always thought lay in a clear and comfortable future, but thinking that way has led me to the hole I'm currently in.

It feels to me that speeding towards the future has caused me to completely ignore the present. The present is not happy about that, and is letting me know. Isolation is a very common thing for me. I was put off by a comment I heard last week - "I never go anywhere without someone." I almost laughed at this; I hardly go anywhere with someone. Independence is in my blood, as is moving your roots around, as are communication breakdowns. Nothing explains them though. It totally blows my mind that such specific traits and parts of my life seem to be genetically passed down. I wish I knew why, I wish I knew the real reason. Maybe I'll never find out. I don't think anybody does - they just find a reason to move along and find peace with the harsh environment we live in.

Part of all this is the fear that I'm experiencing, the fear of how the goals and hopes I had as a wide-eyed underclassman have still remained just blips on the far-off horizon. I feel like I'm being thrust into a world that I'm not comfortable with entering just yet.

rooted to the iron, yearning for the flora. as easy as they were lit, luminous lights on the dusk of spring snuffed out and smudged into glitter, spread thin into the shadows like skyward pebbles on a ghostly playground, scattered by silver linings. one by one the pebbles burst into bright neon novas, showering the dewy ground below with ashy vapors. an encompassing haze laid itself over the land, dimly illuminated by the remnants of the fallen sky. the earth was still and dormant. not a single whisper was heard through the fog. a secret lullaby floated in the air, weaving its way into existence as a soft, pristine aura that blanketed the primordial landscape with an opaque gloss on the soul of nature. 

as the dawn began to creep over the horizon, scores of eyes opened and closed, twitched and twittered. during their slumber the haze stuck to their bodies, outlining their soulcages with an ethereal glow. inside each iris was a perfect sphere of brilliant prismatic beauty, gazing out at the infant sun with a newfound sense of courage, hope, and conviction. each set of eyes made their way out of the lush undergrowth to the ripples of the beachfront. under the leaves and twigs, tiny little hearts with wise eyes told of the mystery and adventure beneath the dark, rushing currents. the time was right. a mystical wave of assurance swept through each of their hurried hearts, and all at once, the children of the stars descended into the sway of the seas. 

shrill shrieks of chill were muffled in the azure, urging the group to band tightly. eyes were frozen shut by the icy sea, protecting and cradling magic inside. deeper down, hearts were tuned to overdrive. their hurried hearts poured out thick, syrupy wonder at the vast expanse which lay at their heated fingertips, in front of their restrained retinas. 

more to come

all the synapses are charged and loaded, overcharged, silent. everything i've learned has appeared in front of me into a perfect algamation from outer space itself. i should believe in the power in my body, and harness the madness into reality. the ache is ruinous, and it is blossoming into hastily spoiling fruit. i've forgotten how this works. rusted wires and joints. sharp as a tack in magnetism, a tad dull in polarity. earlier, the fist of fate plunged down from the clouds and pinned me down; a man turned into a wriggling worm in the rain. its next options are crucial, for time is short. the options are to remain pinned, becoming one with the rocky ground, or sprouting giant wings and fangs, devouring that fist, shooting hot venom up its veins, toppling the giant above. overthrowing the titan by any means neccessary.

Undead Minion

Why does the sky bleed its colors

Why do the worms rot my brain

Why do I crave the blood of others

Why must I constantly inflict pain

Why does the gutter flood with red

Why do my joints snap and crack

Why do I tear into their heads

Why must I turn the world to black

Undead minion, slave to the beyond

Chained to misery

Frenzied zombie pawn

Death's nectar - virginal sacrifice

A hunger so colossal

Only brains will suffice

Why do the humans all keep screaming

Why do they wave their arms to the sky

Why do they pray when they should be running

I'm going to eat them alive

I'm going to suck the meat off their bones

Gnaw the bones into tiny splinters

Sharpen the splinters to drive through the throat

Of another young bloke

Who won't live to see the winter

Exctinction

Slow, brooding, nightmarish killer

Watch your step lest you become a meal

Only one remedy

Explosive symmetry

When flesh is introduced to steel

Neverending quest for cold murder

Horrific desire for eternal slumber

Slaves to the beyond

Their existence is wrong

Live purely to eat and dismember

Onslaught continues, stampeding

Ammunition rations, shrinking

Pillars of fear, surrounding

Clouding all vision, unhinging

The door to sanity's unraveling

Thrust onto the floor with force

Brutal and barbaric, one thousand fangs

Gnash with psychotic madness

Upon discovery of gaping wounds

Frantic becomes hysteric; shooting pangs

Signal the arrival of Death's kiss

Landscape obliterated

Corpses scar blackened earthwounds

Death plumes swept into the breeze

Dark fog invades empty tombs

Silver shadows silently freeze

Hope and bodies fuel the pyres

Ghastly whirls of sickly ink

Extinguished in a fragile blink

Hushed back into the great beyond

Humanity's fate, lost to the fires

Of the hellspawn

Haze

don't look now she's gathering speed

cocooned with fire and party beads

gummed to the sticky floor

directly in the path of the storm

traced by smoky vanishings

upon a beaten shore

waves and seashells search for more

to light up their skies

they must prepare so

when we arrive

our bodies will erupt into dust

ten million colors scorched by the flames

of the friends we trust

will we survive

running as fast as we can

towards those lights in the sky

maybe we'll die

i'll fall asleep on the sand

for as long as it takes

to fill up the space in your eye

destroyed a halo, deceived honest men

eroded the values i held

way back when i had dreams

my seams frayed and thin, i smiled

gladly dove in, but was spit out

ripping out the pages from my seventh-century tome

i had been shown all of my broken bones

but i couldn't feel them

flying off of a building into an art-deco painting

i started panting, i just had

to talk with you

crossed and doubled, by sleight of hand

a ripple in the master plan

a drop of salt, out in the sea

one baby bird in a thousand trees

surrounded by the coastal groves

seeded by currents, their undertows

each root a story, each leaf a light

in night's silent pulsing groove

Easter sunday. Spending it in memoriam of the blissfully ignorant childhood I once possessed. 

I can see the sadness in my mom's eyes. Suddenly I can't talk about my dad around her. Nothing is familiar anymore. I have managed to survive this year by blocking it all out, by throwing the crushing reality under the covers. I feel little to zero relationship with my dad anymore, now that all of this is unraveling. I hope I don't grow to resent him, but I can't help but see that happening. I never want to have a marriage based simply on comfort, fear, and patriarchy, and even more so, I don't want to force somebody to give up the best years of their life to a cause that is held together by withering wire. 

My sister is under my dad's thumb. She is being poisoned, mummified by materialism. This next year will further drive her further into the ground by not escaping. It really is crushing to have your entire reality shift 180 degrees. I grew up in a house of mirrors, and all of them have cracked. Times were so much simpler then. I would go to the grocery store with my mom, go to sports games with my dad. They never, ever went on dates with each other - it was always just to card club. No romance, just results.

I feel sick to my stomach, lower than detritus. I can't even bear to think how I'm going to deal with going home each weekend next month. If I lived at home this summer, I'd go insane. My childhood was almost too perfect - I was only fed that which I was prescribed. This life of gift-showering and electronic parenting was what I perceived to be normal. I forsee myself going to a counselor in the next couple years, this pain is too scarring. For the record and for posterity, my greatest fear is having a false marriage and a life masked by things, to raise children that do not know what love is, and to coast through life as an outsider to everyone, including myself. 

My grandma tells the same anecdotes every time I see her. She can barely hear, and has lived alone for 10 years. I wish I had relatives that lived in the area, I feel like my family is an ever-shrinking dot. For what its worth, I don't really have grandparents. I never saw my parents interact in positive ways, and that made me uncomfortable to the point where I've always been afraid to ask my relatives about their lives. 

I see my aunt and uncle, the people who i've visited with my family at thanksgiving and the holidays all the time growing up. Their marriage is a real one. They go out and do things, they both genuinely love each other. I've been blessed with so much, but I'd gladly trade just about anything that would ensure I would still exist and whoever my parents would be would have a marriage based on something real.

Burned into the back of my eyes is the living room scene on october 5, 2008. like a chain reaction, the tears uncorked. i instantly went into freeze mode, and being with everybody again has resurfaced those feelings. when i see that visual, my hand immediately balls into a fist, representing 22 years and exactly 6 months of life wasted. the tears recycle into burning anger, and upon the realization that i can't alter the past, they return to tears. 

with every failed relation/opportunity with a girl i have a thing for, i feel constantly prodded by a hand of fate. i try not to believe in fate, i try to believe that we all pave our own destiny, but maybe i'm thinking about it in the wrong way. maybe there is one end goal, no matter what, but we can go and do what we choose in the mean time. i need to escape this ethereal prison. i need to have proof that love exists. solid proof. not based on history, not based on fear, not based on convenience, but a true passion and desire to live for the other, and have those feelings be reciprocated entirely. i have yet to experience this, in my years of dating. steph and i were never on an even keel. in the past year, largely it has been me overcompensating for trying to recover lost time, to find that spark again. i've had new sparks many times this year, but they all fizzle. 

i am bitter. i am frustrated. i am lonely. i have nowhere to go. i am slowly becoming pessimistic. for all the waste that my parents went through, that makes me want to be with somebody and really treat them right that much more. 

firing on allllll fronts. all the good ones at least.

New music - I have a feeling that all i'm going to be listening to in the next week is Mastodon, Kylesa, Prince, Built to Spill, and Dan Deacon. I feel like I'm slipping into another metal phase, and I am feeling very positive about this. Maybe I'll have a Loud Rock show next semester?

My guitar playing has never been better. I'm writing hooks and choruses like nobody's business, and I just wrote lyrics to a song in about an hour, and I'm pretty proud of them. Here it is, working title The Silent Skies:

Seeds of promise heated hot by dawn

Wilted leaves, crackled to a crisp

Eyes frozen by passions untrue

Nothing will ever lead me back to you

 

Shades of thick blankness cement the dead

All fingers hammered with crimsoned sledge

Pooling crude, brightens my mood

No trace left to lead me back to you

 

Raw spark

Sets aflame

The Silent Skies

 

Heart-lit fuse

Ribbons of red

Phoenix arising

 

No apology no sincerity no idolatry

You crumble through my broken fingers

Asphyxiation, a metamorphosis

Hushed out into the timber

 

Tobacco plumes, grey and black

Outlined through dimensional foresight

Sealed off wounds bursting through

Lunar cycle of sin

 

Raw spark

Sets aflame

The Silent Skies

 

Corrupting muse

Inside my head

Turned toward the floor

 

Mind wiped, brain stewed

Recycled inertia all brand new

You can come closer

But there's nothing left

To bring me back to you

A month has passed, and as has been par for the course this year, lots of things have changed. I'm climbing some ghostly ladder, rung after rung after rung. Somebody tipped the can over, and all the sauce spilled on the ground. I could try and clean it up, but then if you try and use it, you're still using dirty sauce. So, naturally, you buy a new jar, pop it open, stir it a little, and heat it up to see if its to your liking.

If all goes according to plan, I will be attending five festivals this summer and paying for only one of them, the cheapest of the five. 

DEMF - actually paying for, but maybe only one of the days

Bonnaroo - paid for, but the transport/food/merch/camping gear costs will inevitably come

Rothbury - will volunteer = free ticket

Pitchfork - will more than likely get a press pass for, if not, purchasing a ticket

Lolla - will volunteer = free ticket

May will be a very crazy month show-wise, there's one every weekend, and there are 5 weekends. Mastadon, Dan Deacon, Animal Collective, Opeth, and Nine Inch Nails/Jane's Addiction. All of them are in Detroit too so I'll be doing some serious driving

What I'm looking forward to most of all is living on my own this summer. Interning, working somewhere close, writing a lot of music, and biking everywhere

I really like where things are headed - they're headed into the light, into the open air, amongst everything that is free and positive and united.

(+)
* Promotions for The Whale - the group has narrowed and only those that are truly interested in getting involved have stuck around, I respect these people a great deal

* Love - the train is finally rolling in. It feels incredible to have somebody break through the walls you put around yourself, but on the other hand it is odd having there be something to fill that void, I have to remember how to handle this feeling and how to improve upon the past

* The summer/future - at least on a personal level, I couldn't be happier. living arrangements are set up for the summer, this should be a lot of fun. Bonnaroo's coming along with a whole bunch of fantastic shows, as well as the much wanted warm weather. I feel like/have felt like that I have way too much that I want to do in each day, and upon my mind crashing in realization of this fact I typically just flip open the computer screen and mindlessly drown everything in the glow. I need to stop this, but I suppose its a better position to be in than having nothing at all to do. Resident Evil 5.

(-)
* Walled Lake - I dread going back. Not simply because I feel I've outgrown the city, but because the house I've spent the most amount of years in is nothing more than a hollow carapace. It really got to me on Sunday in the few hours I spent there on how depressing it really must be for my mom. There are so many little things in our house that take you back to a happier time, a blissful existence that seemed almost too perfect. I think this is a reason why I am so eager to move forward - it's half because I am scared to look back at the trail of rotten heirlooms and old electronics. I know that house is a poetry/art/nostalgia goldmine - I immediately felt a total shift in my mental state when I opened the door, and it lingered for a couple hours after I left that night

* Doubting my career - I have no idea how much someone with a broadcasting degree from GVSU might make out of college, if there are any jobs available, or if I'd be better off either a) changing my major, b) going to a better school for broadcasting, or c) just sticking with it and hoping for the best. I was always so scared, even up to last year, that there weren't any majors I could see myself doing, but this looks exactly like what i want to do. I'll never be as rich as my dad, but I wouldn't trade any amount of money to be where he's ended up.

When I look ahead 10 years, I see myself being very happy. Hopefully by then I'll be married with a solid career in the broadcast arts, remaining in touch with the world/the arts/technology, with a beautiful and smart wife, about to begin raising our first child whom I will do all I can to give him or her the abilities/knowledge that was left in the dark for me to stumble upon

I scare myself at how positive this entry looks

I've been in a whirlwind of mental states lately, ranging from extreme happiness and full-body ecstasy to pigeonholed isolation and hopelessness, molding together and producing a one-track mind, with anything unrelated being perceived as negative and detrimental. I feel really unproductive, feel detatched from my duties as promo director/most everyone at the station, and dread going to work. Classes are beginning to grate on me - for some reason I feel behind in everything. The only things I want to do is play guitar and learn more about it, and be with the girl I like.

The summer will be a time of massive change - I will be moving ever further from Walled Lake, and more in the direction my future career in broadcasting/audio production will hopefully take me. I'll be living in Grand Rapids for the entirety of the summer most likely, while interning at WGVU running production-type stuff. Bonnaroo is going to be incredible - I do believe it will be the best weekend of the summer, and it just might be able to top Lolla 08. I plan on volunteering at Rothbury again and am anxiously awaiting any info regarding the Pitchfork fest - the lineup for that is always so solid, plus its cheap, and fairly close.

I might invest in a video camera to document my life this summer, for I honestly haven't the slightest clue as to how it'll turn out. For the first time in 4 summers I won't be working at the movie theatre back home, this will be a massive change in and of itself. I think video has a lot of possibility to document yourself in a much more original and genuine way, and at the very least I want some memories to look back on.

I know what I want my band to sound like. I want heavily distorted, fuzzy sounding, multi-layered guitars, but I also want a certain ferocity and aggressiveness that a lot of punk music has. This would be a good summer project.

Bonnaroo

Bonnaroo

Superfly Productions and A.C. Entertainment are excited to announce the initial lineup for the 2009 Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival. The eighth annual four-day camping and music festival will be held on June 11 - 14 on the same beautiful 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee, 60 miles south of Nashville. Every year Bonnaroo seeks to make history by offering unique and exclusive performances by rock’s greatest legends as well as its most significant newcomers. A full list of confirmed acts follows, and more will be announced in the coming weeks. The final Bonnaroo 2009 lineup will total over 120 bands and over 20 comedians performing on 13 stages over four days. Tickets go on sale exclusively through www.bonnaroo.com on Saturday, February 7 at 12:00 PM Eastern.

Official festival website is www.bonnaroo.com







2009 Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival Confirmed Artists:




Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
Phish (2 Shows)
Beastie Boys
Nine Inch Nails
David Byrne
Wilco
Al Green
Snoop Dogg
Elvis Costello Solo
Erykah Badu
Paul Oakenfold
Ben Harper and Relentless7
The Mars Volta
TV on the Radio
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Gov’t Mule
Andrew Bird
Merle Haggard
MGMT
moe.
The Decemberists
Girl Talk
Bon Iver
Béla Fleck & Toumani Diabate
Rodrigo y Gabriela
Galactic
The Del McCoury Band
of Montreal
Allen Toussaint
Coheed and Cambria
Booker T & the DBTs
David Grisman Quintet
Lucinda Williams
Animal Collective
Gomez
Neko Case
Down
Jenny Lewis
Santogold
Robert Earl Keen
Citizen Cope
Femi Kuti and the Positive Force
The Ting Tings
Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
Kaki King
Grizzly Bear
King Sunny Adé
Okkervil River
St. Vincent
Zac Brown Band
Raphael Saadiq
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
Crystal Castles
Tift Merritt
Brett Dennen
Mike Farris and the Roseland Rhythm Revue
Toubab Krewe
People Under the Stairs
Alejandro Escovedo
Vieux Farka Touré
Elvis Perkins In Dearland
Cherryholmes
Yeasayer
Todd Snider
Chairlift
Portugal. The Man.
The SteelDrivers
Midnite
The Knux
The Low Anthem
Delta Spirit
A.A. Bondy
The Lovell Sisters
Alberta Cross

AWESOME.

Station to Station - i've once called this song the figurative/literal companion piece to my life, and it makes a lot of sense. It's a song about love, recorded in a time of chaos and mental clouding, yet amongst all of these outside factors the one thing that's important shines through. The first half of the ten-minute epic deals with one's coming and goings from station to station, accumulating the wealth of experience that will hopefully connect you with love. There is a constant hope through the repetitive struggle, a need to keep searching, a wonder of what you will be believing once you arrive at the next station.

Upon arrival at a particular station, wild imagery sends the listener's mind reeling - "once there were mountains on mountains and once there were songbirds to soar with and once i could never be down." You have arrived. You begin doubting your feelings, questioning if they are real, but you simply have to follow that ethereal guide that you gravitate towards. You've been seeking for so long, now it's time to celebrate and just do what feels natural. It's too late to go back and worry about petty things, the time is now, for tomorrow may never come

pieces of lyrics:


darting between the air
crunching towards the adobe
fires lick my bones

whirling timelines arriving at last
sewn together by a secret
charged hot by a hush

cut out a frame of pixels and smiles
throw it all underground
put it in a locked metal box and
head for the next town

wait by the marquee
wait till you see me
adorn with golden light
don't stop when your heart bursts
don't fall to your knees
i'm there each night of the week

digging for a goldenrod feather
of histories and futures
spinning round in neon
reveling in our chaos
you ignited a spark in me tonight

As much as I don't believe in fate, it seems as though it's increasingly hard to deny that there seems to be an untouchable spool of wire that our lives dance around and adhere to. Over and over again, familiar experiences pop into view with different heads attached to them. Perhaps this is the key to happiness and warmth among others, is perfecting the monotony. But what sort of life is this?

In the middle of this entry, I received a call, a hand ripping open the sky and extending a rope downwards, for which I have been instructed to climb

What’s the half-life on a broken heart?

I love the first breath of dry winter air that you get after you shut the door, the cool invigoration that filters through your lungs, vitalizing your soul. You can always start over once you have that first breath – it’s the first cloud towards the sky. Winter has such a negative stigma attached to it typically, and I understand it, and I also understand why people can love it. In the winter you can only rely on yourself, for the unrelenting climate won’t give you any favors. Winter almost favors solitude as well as rewards it. You can always think clearer when you have a blast of subzero air attacking your senses, for these dramatic temperatures bring to the surface the ideas and things that truly matter inside you. If you were to freeze to death, would your life have ended with unfinished business? It’s the long walks home from campus, the peaceful ones where the night is blanketed with stars, the air crisp and frigid, and the earth covered with a glistening, immaculate sheet of wonder. I’ve come to look forward to walking home, listening to my voice bouncing around my brain, with extremities powering down and steam emanating from my nose – the steps into the freshly fallen powder, never looking back – flanked by the icicles that never cease to sculpt themselves into cones of opaque beauty.

I’m starting to wonder that if what I’m seeing through my lenses is the manifestation of what’s growing inside of me. Trees stripped bare, footprints going in every direction but leaving no clues as to their destination, hidden ice, a wilderness in stasis – this is what I see.

Could there be something romantic about ashes and memories, dead feelings somehow re-ignited and effusing, burning until the earth is scarred? Biting the bullet may be a fine technique, but enough jaw clenches and you’re going to break the shell open, spilling the black death powder all over your teeth and innards. Cold metal, sludgy black powder, stained teeth, choking victim. (I’m going into hibernation for the time being, allowing myself to become wrapped up entirely with the station/playing music/writing. Slipping underneath and sinking for a bit.)

I can't sleep because I have far, far too many thoughts. Musings on the recent past, the present, and the uncertainties of the future are darting throughout my head at blazing speed

It is only a month gone, but I already feel myself overcome with nostalgia at Fall semester. I was always in such a state of flux - many chances taken, many new people met, many great/unique experiences. The lifestyle began to eat at me, however. The way of living with no end in sight clashed with my ever-present pulse inside me to have something real, to wake up each morning and have a pull towards a certain person. Classes/jobs/clubs are all great, but the trump to all of those is relating to people on personal/romantic levels. I need love, yet i'm not outside the boundaries of acting crazy. Last fall I felt alive, with each passing week a new uncertainty would meet me head on and I'd collide with it with a wide grin on my face. To paraphrase Weird Al, the world was my burrito.

Towards the end I had been worn down, and actually looked forward to a break. The break only sucked me into a life I no longer want a part of, for it has been stripped down to its skeletal remains. The house in which I have lived the longest in is going up for sale, due to its tenants being ripped apart. Those events have me feeling very pessimistic myself about my own hope for the future, if that kind of luck is genetic. The house is perfect, memories burned into each square inch of it. None of it was real. My parents put on the perfect lie for 20 years, or at least the past 10, when my dad "sold out."He sold out for us though, for the benefit of the family. I've never had much to complain about monetarily, even though I've worked minimum wage jobs constantly since 10th grade, so I suppose I have that to be thankful for. But then you have to re-evaluate the word "benefit." Did our family benefit by totally having love absent in our household? Did my sister benefit as a person by relying on my dad as an ATM to this day? Did my mom benefit by sacrificing the best years of her life to a man who can not see the loving, caring heart she has, or rather if he does see it, chooses to ignore it, just as he has all other human contact in his life? Did I benefit by being raised into this false reality by two parents who, though always clear on their support, are two entirely different people who probably never should have married?

This brings into thought the discussion of my own existence. If anything made any sense, I who I am now shouldn't exist. This is concerning because recently I have never felt more comfortable in my own skin, I feel older, I feel capable of complex thought, I wish to find my place. Now that everything I have grown up with is being fed to the furnaces, it seems that this is the true test of faith and the true test of character. With nothing, you can only grow. With nothing, you must self-analyze and discover the power within you to succeed.

I've always enjoyed being alone - it's a strange feeling, but I'm elated when it happens. Whenever i have the house to myself, whenever i'm in a building real late at night, whenever i'm driving a long distance by myself, whenever i'm walking around listening to my own thoughts. Perhaps this is part of the fear and anxiety I'm experiencing at the moment - when you've listened to yourself for so long, will anyone else want to listen to you? Will anything else make much of an impact?

I need to smoke something this weekend