Known Some Call Is Air Am.

2003-08-19T04:30:00.000-04:00

So here's to another fragile phantasm conjured up in the hours where passions wax and the hours pass in moments reflecting infinite permutations of thought.

That said, I already know that I'm grasping at a void. Hoping to create something out of that which, by definition, is nothing. Though truly "nothing" is a word that cannot be defined. Or is best left unencountered. Shake it off, Johnny/Nigel/Lenny/Ian or whatever novelty you're hiding behind these days.

Write this off. Please. Remember that everything on here is only a fraction of the visible part of me. An uneven distribution of my various whims.

Man. Am I a freak because I can make jokes about the Ark of the Covenant (joke not included in this entry)? While popular opinion may say "Yes", I'm gonna have to go with "No".......mostly to be a dick, but also because I truly believe that there are people out there who are, like myself, open to a full spectrum of humour, be it Biblical or black. Or whatever else gets mixed up in the glass and the goo.....

I should write a book entitled "1001 Recipes for Disaster: A Self-Guide to Self-Destruction" (by Nigel A. Chrome). I think it would be a best-seller, and the irony alone would be enough to, in true deus ex machina fashion, summon the hellions of Fate and strike me down.

Goal for tomorrow: "Fly from the path." (It's an oldie but a goodie, and I've gotta learn it or this whole damn lie of a life has been worthless. So cheer me on, if you would.)

Seeya on the flipside.

2003-08-16T03:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I'm moody. It's an unfortunate fact of my existence. But at least I can make a wicked analogy between "Tetris" and my own life.....stupid brain kicking in too late. I should have done something, quite possibly anything, differently. "But wishing won't make it so....."

I'm definitely Black Mage. He's so cool. I wish I had an online quiz that would pronounce, officially, such a correspondence.

Here's a quote from Black Mage himself, so that you can understand my correlation: "I'd say I didn't WANT to say I told you so, but I'm VERY petty and enjoy being proven right even, it would seem, when it means my own death." Not that it's particularly applicable, but I'm sure I've said/contemplated saying something rather similar at some point in time. Or whatever. "Stabbity death time!" Yeah. Black Mage definitely hates the world.....

But point of goodness: Ryumyo has incarnated in blade form and is ready to wreak some motherfucking HAVOC! And also candlelight gaming is fucking P-I-M-P! (And you can quote me on that, if you're as much of a nerd as I am. Yay horsies!)

My guess is that this post doesn't make any sense (which, if I may say so myself, is HIGHLY unorthodox (insert sarcasm)) but honestly, telling the whole story is just a waste of my time and energy. So out with the bad energy and in with the good.

My love to Fate.....you're a cruel mistress, but dear to me, and I respectfully accept whatever paths you lay as mine. Thanks and blessings upon you.

Goodnight and godspeed to all those who understand the nature of regret.....or whatever the fuck it is that I'm feeling. You're in my heart if you don't already know.......peace.

2003-08-06T03:06:00.000-04:00

I take it all back. It is in fact ME who is the charmingly inept fop. Or perhaps it's a team effort. At any rate, good things going badly turn into happy endings. Or whatever it is that I mean, I mean.

"The real horror of cliches is that so many of them are, indeed, true."

Man alive, what changes can be achieved in mere moments. You're all so very very beautiful, and I thank you for your patience. Goodnight.

2003-08-05T06:14:00.000-04:00

I think that was the most exhausting writing session I've ever had. That was at least four hours of intensive, creative output. I tell you what, Comedy Central: if you're smart you'll offer us a contract now, before we get famous and snub you publicly. Hah. Happy trails to y'all......

2003-08-05T02:10:00.000-04:00

Two days of melancholy abruptly and pleasantly slaughtered by a night playing cards with the guys. I made fitty-five cent and we made up a new game, the tremendously popular Blankenstein (official property of Ian Howard, Ned Petrie, Matt Bakaric, Dave Johnson, and Tom Blank--don't try to steal it!). Suddenly all this "small-town bullshit" that's been fucking with my head dropped out, and while it would have been nice to make my phone calls, it seems like I made the right decision this time. Yay.

Oh, and here's another quiz.....don't ask me why I always take girly quizzes, but.....well, they're fun. Okay here goes:

You have a surprise kiss! Your partner is always
pleasantly pleased to have you jump outta no
where to dote them with a fun peck on the cheek
or more passionate embrace. super markets and
work places are your favorite places to attack
your loved one with all your love =p

What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

2003-08-04T01:21:00.000-04:00

Whatever. It is only when one has lost all hope that options truly become available. Instinct is often more accurate than optimism. And whatever else I'll say to placate myself now that I've once again proved myself not only a failure, but a liar as well. Maybe not a failure; I don't know anymore. But the winds of change are fickle, and blow colder as summer dies and becomes fall, a fall without any discernible ending......only the circling of years broken by moments of transcendence. Dammit. There's nothing the matter and yet something is definitely not right. I guess it's because I haven't killed the old habits yet, the ones far more addicting than any physical vice and far more dangerous too. And Johnny's in my head, speaking my words, owning the sorrow I claimed as my birthright and my profession when I didn't understand the concept of consequence. Not that I do now. In any event it doesn't matter, his voice or my voice or your voice or any kind of Voice (Here's a thought: Silence is rigid. It is frozen in its form. Nothing can be built from silence, only conjured.) speaking words that should never exist, should die within the ribcage and be reformed as monuments to nobler courses of action. I'd love to be that smart, that controlled. Unfortunately I'm unbridled, untameable. Heh. Who knows? It's early and I'm tired.

I'm going to sleep. I hope the world has fixed itself by the time I wake up. Cuz honestly, this time around it's gonna be impersonal. Those who've seen it, know. I'll take Fate on and kick its ass, if I have to. Just don't ask me to talk.

(For those who worry, I'm okay. Thanx for your concern. There's friction between me and the future, but I'm not worried. I promised I wouldn't care. So you guys can keep my promise for me........)

2003-07-31T23:56:00.000-04:00

32 dollars. No more school till winter at the earliest. And a joyful (don't quote me on that) Friday to come. Oh, and my creative impulses returned (props to Matt from Monroeville on that one!). Suffice it to say, the week from hell is ending. Yay for excitement!

2003-07-29T01:43:00.000-04:00

What goes up must comes down. I know this. And yet I seem to forget.

What the hell is with this invisible wall? I feel like my creative impulses have all been surgically removed. I've completely planned this week to work out despite the incredible amount of energy and work it will require, but I have a way of being COMPLETELY FUCKING UNRELIABLE. Even to myself. I'm trying though.

Can't rely on yourself, can't rely on anyone else. It learned that one. Smart smart child, it was.

The little stuff is really bothering me lately. And I'm more impatient.

I'm gonna go. Thanx for reading, though.

2003-07-28T02:33:00.000-04:00

Heh. Heh heh. Cool.

2003-07-12T02:40:00.000-04:00

So foolish am I. I found out where that quote came from; I had a hunch all along that it was Danielewski, as so much of me is. Do not fret, beautiful acolytes. No mystery will plague our dreams tonight.

"Fly from the path."

2003-07-12T02:11:00.000-04:00

"Fly from the path."

Where the hell is that from? If anybody reading this knows, I beg you to tell me. I believe it is either a book or a movie, possibly a quite popular one. I really need to know.....IMMEDIATELY. Thanx.

"Fly from the path."
"Fly from the path."
"Fly from the path."
"Fly from the path."
"Fly from the path......"

2003-07-11T01:59:00.000-04:00

Which Animaniacs Character are You?

Talkative, huh? Perhaps sing-ative would be more appropriate, actually. When people don't understand something, it usually drives you to cutting, sarcastic remarks. Your other extreme is bursting into song with almost no prompting, often to explain complex ideas. No one knows quite what you are, exactly. You have made many "special" friends, and there's baloney in your slacks.

Click here to see my Livejournal.

2003-07-09T16:44:00.000-04:00

First and foremost, let me say that the Axe effect has been officially proven as a legitimate scientific phenomenon. Those of you with insight will immediately realize the powerful ramifications this has for the world at large. Secondly, my hair has both mousse AND spray in/on it today FOR NO APPARENT REASON. Thirdly, this summer is no longer a waste of time; I just need to get out of the house (and, if at all possible, out of this city) to make it worthwhile. But please use the telephone wisely, if you would.

Oh yeah, here's some quizzes too.......I know how much you (meaning me) love them. TTFN! (insert sardonically cheesy smile and energetic ditz wave for full effect.)

I'm an Atheist!

Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?

Take More of Robert & Tim's Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim's Cartoons

My Phase is Olbos

Which Phase of the Greek Tragic Cycle Are You?

Take More Robert & Tim Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim Cartoons

Margot:
You are a secretive, chain-smoking, terminally
depressed rebel. You usually feel awkward in
normal social situations and feel as if you
don't belong. You're really cool and diverse,
considering the crap you have to put up with.
So live it up while you can!

What Royal Tenenbaums character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

2003-07-04T16:20:00.000-04:00

Sorry.....I had to post this one. Just to remind people that I do, indeed, have good taste. Though unfortunately, I don't think it'll work out......sigh.

Sirius Black is your Hunk Burnin' Love.

Who Is Your Gryffindor Hunk of Burnin' Love?
brought to you by Quizilla

2003-05-28T01:02:00.000-04:00

Your secret lover is Snape.

Hehe...

Mine too.

Who is your secret Hogwarts Lover?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ha! You better all be drooling with jealousy.

2003-05-25T15:03:00.000-04:00

Now who's got the Holden Caulfield syndrome? And every other personality under the sun. I've made myself merely a refraction of the world itself, a microcosm in my mind. All the "glories" of human existence conveniently tucked inside the heart I've been trying to excise my entire life.

The Greek word for "actor" is the root word for the modern "hypocrisy". Our breed's been lying since the world began. Turns out I really was a child prodigy. (That may have been a joke. Be advised.)

It's not a lack, but a surplus. As usual, I'm more skilled in opposites than likenesses. (I'm going to point out that I'm not making a song reference here, though I should. I'm restrained. Like a Fitzgerald character. Damn.) I act on inverse principles, countering everything with its Gemini abstraction.

2 + 9 = 11. 1 + 1 = 2. "Do the fucking math, Boston!" Though I really have nothing to say to Boston, but merely to those who will understand my numerical convolutions. And nothing even to say to them.

I'm going back to work. Or something. Maybe nothing, if I can find it. Goodnight.

2003-05-24T03:53:00.000-04:00

Holy shit......somehow I doubt that this day could have been any sweeter. Three hours of sleep be damned; I will savour my exhaustion. It's just been one of those days where everything came together with a mystically coincidental grace. The joys of trees partially lit, conversations (finished and unfinished), dreamlike precision, and......dare I say it?........twinnishness!

I'm grinning.

I think I now officially have more coffee in my bloodstream than I do blood. But it's all good.......Holla if you hear me, people.........

2003-05-23T16:53:00.000-04:00

Genius is dead when it becomes form. Form is merely the grave of all great works.

And so forth.

"Be like your ancestors or be different. Wear gaudy colours or avoid display. The fittest shall survive, yet the unfit may live. We must repeat."

I have no idea if that's the right order, but the sentences themselves are all perfect to the word. If there's one thing I understand, it's devolution.

Where is the line between delusional and optimistic? I've never figured that out.

Back to doing the dirty dishes in my sync. Just gotta be careful not to drop anything down the drain.

Sorry. I'm a little fatigued.

Whatever.

2003-05-21T04:35:00.000-04:00

Hello hello, beautiful blogging audience! I know that I promised just the other day that I probably wouldn't be blogging for a while, but I changed my mind; this means that you're forced to read yet another unintelligable post from your friend and humble narrator, Nigel A. Chrome.........

"So anyway/Fuck it/What's been up man/How's your daughter?"

What's been happening lately, you ask? (I know nobody's asking that question in reality, but this is my goddamn blog and I'll be asking the questions around here whether you're thinking them or not!) Not a lot, I reply. For you see, sweet little Ian the Gypsy Lad (don't ask why I've described myself thus, but I do think it's an amusing moniker) has been sleeping his wee dark dreams in hibernation. That is to say, I've been "voluntarily withdrawn" from the incestuous craphole of "social circles" and all that they demand. Not really a reason; just sick of it. Take no offense, my glamorous darlings; it is no insult but merely a bit of protection against my inevitable incompetency during hours such as these. I am, unfortunately, only interesting when I'm on my pedestal. (I had a huge amount of self-discussion regarding the fate of the previous sentence; while it seems like a gratuitous and somewhat obscure reference to Oscar Wilde, I also felt that it added a certain amount of savour and panache that I couldn't ignore. Be forewarned.....Also, I might as well tell you that this post won't get any easier or less convoluted; I'm hitting the peak of my "cottage fever" so I may not be fit to use a computer.)

In any event, there is little news that anyone might truly be interested to hear of. However, I would like to address, if I may, any rumours that may or may not exist regarding the possibility of a Searching For Words reunion tour this summer. Firstly, I can admit that talks of an SFW reunion performance have been in the works and look positive at this juncture; a rehearsal for the band is pending and I hope to bring more definitive information to your attention soon. However, the band members have not yet spoken as a group and no conclusive goals or developments have been reached.

Intellectual influence of the moment: "Zarathustra's Discourses" by Friedrich Nietzsche; it's a small excerpt from "Thus Spake Zarathustra". Why do I mention this? Only to plug you into my state of mind.

"I'm all id and there's no place for catharsis in this burg, baby!" I think that was the quote I put in my profile at one time. I really liked it then. The little elements of Freud coming together in my brain, all the steam of boiled psychology (I know, it seems like I'm using my words incorrectly, but that's just how I work.....I don't like words to fit into their categories....) forming the cataclysmic cloud of Knowledge. I always thought that Knowledge was the great attainable reward, salvation, the end of suffering and struggle, the means and the end to all the universe. But I dreamed foolishly, with not less than a drop of my vanity in amongst the woven-stuff of fantasy, and was rewarded with my desire. I became the Midas for whom understanding, Knowledge, sprang at his touch; I fancied that I could comprehend, and by so doing conquer, all the world. Surely I would do so, and so surely was it done. And then I looked on the ruin my hands had wrought upon my glory, and I became Marked for my shame; Marked, I say, by the divinity of sorrow and the fire-brands of unremoved sin. For in understanding, I consumed. (It's my favorite word, and considering the nature of this post, I felt kind of obliged to throw it in for a little parade about the yard before I throw it back in the basement of this hideous heart. Humour me.) I was corrupted in my knowledge, and all that crossed my path, whether with evil will or good, breathed the foul fumes of my unbridled mind in its rot and were themselves corrupted. It was Knowledge, the grope of a frail human mind, that drove this machine further. Now it is Knowledge itself that I seek release from, though I might bear a thousand and one Marks of shame upon my brow and body; I would indeed take these as tokens of my redemption, and display them with the reverence accorded them and more.

Yeah. This is how I've been talking to myself for the past......like two or three weeks. Even before I started reading my little pocket Nietzsche. Freaky, huh? It's got that "fire and brimstone" (or whatever) feel to it. Spiders in the hand of God and so forth. Except that I don't believe that bit, about the spiders and God and all; it's not exactly my cup of tea, but I respect the passion of it all, the "bread and circuses".

The semicolon is prominent in this post. It's not well-respected, but the semicolon is probably one of the greatest punctuation marks currently in use; don't fuck with my semicolons, okay?

You're probably all convinced at this point that I've flipped. But no, I'm just intoxicated by the rush of communication. What with my self-inflicted temporary exile, I'm not used to expressing so much as is being said now. Well, that and I'm trying to write on here instead of focusing on the one or three other things I want to/have to/refuse to admit that I need to. The parts of me best left unexplored must be encountered, and that's always terrifying. But I can feel it coming; tonight and tomorrow are probably going to be the lowest in this little valley and then I'll be off and running and chomping on the daisies. I'm tuned to the waxing and the waning of my meager emotions......though I say meager as a joke that's somehow not funny at all but really, incredibly tragic. Damn. Sometimes you have to miss just to know you're not perfect; you have to fail to keep humility.

Good God, but I do ramble on when I feel like nobody is listening. I realized, though, as I was examining some documents from my younger days, that I may actually have become a better person over the course of the past few years. Maybe my three little pink pills a day (my prescription Depakote, in case you don't know; they're legit) are doing something after all. Cuz seriously......wow. I was definitely a wackjob there for a while. To those who served with me during the first two or three years of high school, I salute you. You guys should earn a medal or something.

Alright, enough of this tomfoolery. It's too late for me to keep up with my brain, so I'm out. Take it easy; I'll holler later. Peace.

2003-05-19T16:45:00.000-04:00

Nothing but quizzes today, folks. It's entirely possible that, aside from this, I won't be posting for some time, so just enjoy these for now. Peace.

Which Willy Wonka character are you?

made by

What
kind of clothes should I be wearing? by Evelyn

This quiz says absolutely nothing about your personality. Take it!

I'm a shy, sensitive punk rocker, the most artistic of them all. I'm Kurt Cobain!
Click here to find out which Nirvana grunge rocker you are!

Which David Bowie are you?

You've got a lot to say, and you'll talk until it's all out, and for

some reason, no one tries to shut you up. I guess you actually

make sense most of the time. Almost everyone likes you, and

it's not just because you're cheap. Haha. Cheap as in thrifty, of

course. You get a bit depressed now and then, but who doesn't?

You seem to have a little anger built up inside, but who doesn't?

You like to stare at people through their bedroom window while

they're changing, but who doesn't? You sick bastard.
Which Smashing Pumpkins album are you?

Which Star-Crossed Marvel Lover Are You?

2003-05-11T05:12:00.000-04:00

5:00 in the morning, and I'm writing a fucking essay on the Sphinx and the labyrinth of the Minotaur in my head. Out of nowhere I ended up back on Ash Tree Lane, if I've ever even left. My "baby of the week" ended up growing into a lion.

Just laugh it away, man. I gave up that small-town bullshit when I left the Fizel.

"But I will never faint/They laugh and they expect me to faint/But I will never faint/I refuse to lose/I refuse to fall down/Cuz you see it's the monotony that's got to me/Every afternoon like the last one/Every afternoon like a rerun......" -Patti Smith, "Piss Factory"

2003-05-10T16:51:00.000-04:00

Welly well well. In case you didn't know, I love online quizzes. So here's one I just did. Thank God I'm not Christian, cuz if I was, I'd have to admit to this. Although technically my main sin is my heresy, so......here ya go.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

2003-05-09T01:55:00.000-04:00

There's a fucking Gap now at Haight and Ashbury.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Other than that, life's just peachy.

I'll holla later.

2003-05-06T00:54:00.000-04:00

"And I used to be such a nice guy....."

It is not my opinions, but my expression, that betrays me now. It is easy to mistake the silence of a man who dwells in sorrow, whose words are bereft of meaning set against the scope of his life, for the silence of a man who dwells in hatred and in anger.

The joke is that, ultimately, I never believe anything. I'm far too logical to accept truths, and far too emotional to suffer falsities.

Take a shot of irony with a paradox chaser and call me in the morning. I'm out.

2003-05-04T17:47:00.000-04:00

"You're the kind of person
You meet at certain dismal dull affairs.
Center of a crowd, talking much too loud
Running up and down the stairs.
Well, it seems to me that you have seen too much in too few years.
And though you've tried you just can't hide
Your eyes are edged with tears.

You better stop
Look around
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes
Here comes your nine-teenth nervous breakdown.

When you were a child
You were treated kind
But you were never brought up right.
You were always spoiled with a thousand toys
But still you cried all night.
Your mother who neglected you
Owes a million dollars tax.
And your father's still perfecting ways of making sealing wax.

You better stop, look around
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes
Here comes your nilne-teenth nervous breakdown.

Oh, who's to blame, that girl's just insane.
Well nothing I do don't seem to work,
It only seems to make matters worse. Oh please.

You were still in school
When you had that fool
Who really messed your mind.
And after that you turned your back
On treating people kind.
On our first trip
I tried so hard to rearrange your mind.
But after while I realized you were disarranging mine.

You better stop, look around
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes
Here comes your nine-teenth nervous breakdown.
Here comes your nine-teenth nervous breakdown
Here comes your nine-teenth nervous breakdown......." -The Rolling Stones, "19th Nervous Breakdown"

Or, if you'd prefer one more prominent in past quotations, try this.

"Running low on things to say
And people to hate
These days it seems people aren't pleased
With insensitivity
I've spoken
I'm choking
And it keeps coming back
You don't see
It's hard for me
Never meant to make you mad

Running low on things to say
I got no complaints
These days it seems people aren't pleased
With my honesty
I've spoken
I'm choking
And it keeps coming back
You don't see
It's hard for me
Never meant to make you mad

I'm choking on this lump in my throat
Rather shut up
Nobody ever gets the joke
Wanna speak out loud but I don't want to lie
Wanna speak out loud but I'll only make you cry.........." -Sidecar, "The Overture of Bredd W."

More songs still coming. It won't end until my mind has completely calmed, and that might not be for quite some time. Don't expect much.

2003-05-03T20:30:00.000-04:00

"Last night was bad
My doubts were all I had
Realizing I was alone and
Trying to think of someone to phone but
No one came to mind
There was nothing for me to say that
Just anyone would understand
I was scared and afraid
I was so alone

CHORUS: We're neurotic! (We've had it!)

Surround myself with people
But I am always alone
Human props, small talk
Keep silence from imposing
My own mind
My worst enemy
It will destroy me slowly
More coffee, more coffee
More coffee I'm going numb

CHORUS

It's hard for me to explain
It's hard to understand
All the fear and phobia
That lays inside and traps this man
When I'm surrounded
I wanna scream
Kick down the walls
Destroy what holds me
I wanna smash it all.....

CHORUS/END" -The Bouncing Souls, "Neurotic"

I promise more music later. I gotta go back to Reading for a while though first. No pun intended.

2003-05-03T03:02:00.000-04:00

Some might choose to consider the phoenix as representing a self-fullfilling prophecy of destruction. They would, unfortunately, be right.

2003-05-01T02:08:00.000-04:00

I did grow up fast; that part is true. But only into an immature adult.

It seems like I'll never be done trying, that I will never bleed enough to satisfy the crowds who clamor for my defeat. The twin circles of my soul brought into harsh relief by the realization that, ultimately, I won't be satisfied either until the last red drop hits the sand, until the lions have gnawed my carcass in the final throes of their bloodlust. The sacrament of suffering.

I explained so much in so few words. "The religion of chrome absorbs the religion of the needle." The glorification of pain and all that is decrepit. Which, now that I've come down to it, must inevitably include myself.

Trapped in the maze like a rat. Is this how it must end, someday? No fucking pot of gold or safe warm house for me, no no. Only the resolute outlines of my misery, darkening upon me like locusts bearing down en masse to devour what they only imagine exists. There is no longer anything to feed on here, unless you are seeking for desperation. That I will always have in spades.

"Take a look at your desperate town/Watch those walls come crumbling down/Take a look at your desperate town/Don't you wanna burn it down tonight?"

If that's what I mean, then it has been said. If it is not, then I hope you will forgive me. I have lost all traces of whatever it was that I could, conceivably, have been. I'm a specter looming over my own corpse.

Sadly enough, I'm starting not to mind it. Again.

Catholicism, which despite popular opinion did have a significant influence on me, always promised salvation after the sinner repented. Well, I fucking repented, so where's my salvation? And why is it so unforgivably unwanted?

"Come on baby won't you show me what you got yeah/I want your salvation (Whoa-oh-oh)......"

2003-04-30T02:19:00.000-04:00

Fuck the numbers. I gotta write a paper.

2003-04-24T13:04:00.000-04:00

What was that about irony being nothing but a personal Maginot line?

To the Sea, to the Sea! They have come upon us; the trenches are nothing now......let us run to the Sea, while there is yet time......

I'm chuckling anyway. Or maybe I'm just being serious.

I'll be at the coast in four and a half hours. Lay a blanket down for me, okay?

2003-04-20T00:28:00.000-04:00

Happy Easter from Middletown, keds. Enjoy it, whichever one(s) you're celebrating today. As for me, I'm living the thug's life.....and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Here's to old stories that find new beginnings. I love you all.

2003-04-17T03:33:00.000-04:00

So, by some riddle of Fate, this is how my playlist has worked itself out so far (starting with the first):

"Magic", Ben Folds Five
"My Sundown", Jimmy Eat World
"Allentown", Billy Joel
"Only the Good Die Young", Billy Joel
"Thug's Mansion (Acoustic)", Tupac Shakur (featuring Nas)
"Fly Me to the Moon", Frank Sinatra
"Thanks That Was Fun", Barenaked Ladies

Never mind. You probably won't understand, but there's a meaning to these songs that is clear, but not calling me. Not now. It's spring, goddammit. Oddly enough, Tuesday, was a beautiful spring day, but yesterday (my today) was a terribly cold and wintery day. I suspect myself of changing the weather. The playlist lost its theme after BNL.

I hate hospitals, though I've spent so much time there. I haven't gone to visit Joel. I'm scared.

I wasn't lying. I was just repeating things I'd heard that some proclaimed as truths. Don't hold it against me.

"I would swallow my pride/I would choke on the rinds/But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside/I would swallow my doubt/Turn it inside out/Find nothing but faith in nothing/Wanna put my tender/Heart in a blender/Watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion......" -Eve 6, "Inside Out"

Or put something else there instead, if you don't want that. What does it matter? They're interchangeable now, every line just a blur flashing in its deflected arc, followed by the blurs of other lines, each following the exact same trajectory. I need world deprivation to ever become anything more than a machine.

Even if you ever asked, I wouldn't be able to answer. I don't know anymore. All the letters are dipped in the glass and the goo and turned around, polished politely with a smile, and then scattered half-handed to winds that howl in the ear, the words dropping as the merest after-effect, a by-product almost of the mammoth industry that surges onward to an unknown destiny.

"My words are like a dagger/With a jagged edge......." -Eminem, "Criminal"

Okay. I think I've covered all the topics that I haven't covered lately. If you feel you've been omitted, and would like me to address your specific concern, please feel free to email me at: NigelChrome@aol.com. I'll try to respond with a minimum of delay.

I love ya, keds. Take care of yourselves, and all will be made clear with the heralding of the dawn. Or at least, that's what I hope. Here's to it.........

2003-04-16T14:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, here's another long-ass poem of the breed I think are only fascinating to me. However, this one was written by your friend and humble narrator, Nigel A. Chrome, during a particularly long break offered by a cancelled English class yesterday. It's called "Epilogue For Spring", and you damn well better believe that I'm copyrighting this shit right here and now. Anyways, here goes:

Doors swing
Untended
From ancient hinges
Here
In the dead gardens
Of a sun-burnt paradise;
A home
It could have been
If the heat
Had never died.
But the Sun is fickle.
Its passion
Might peak, and destroy all shadow,
Yet the Moon is more
Relentless.
The moon changes,
Taking from the Sun
Its radiant power
And making it only a
Reflection,
An after-effect imposed on
The Eye.
Darkness existing in the hidden halls of light
And full of hatred
For its source.
The sun is harsh, but holds to
Sacred vows
That keep it tethered.
It cannot fully conquer.
Darkness holds to no vows
And holds nothing in esteem
So much
As sorrow.

2003-04-13T16:21:00.000-04:00

Welly well well, my little droogies......I'm sure you're all salivating in antici---pation over this post, since it's been a few days and I've been more or less in isolation from the rest of the world lately. Or then again, maybe you care about my life as little as I do at times. I don't know.

Pretty simple. Springer was an interesting experience; I'd probably vote for him but I refuse to vote.

Joe and I are tied in Stratego: 1-1. The first time I blew him out of the water with my slick strategy, but the second game he straight-up rocked me. Oh well. As of yet, we have not formalized a time or day for the tiebreaker game, if there even is one.

I've been really busy with school, shockingly enough. That's kind of why I haven't been posting much lately. Some of you probably have already puzzled that out, but I figured I'd state it openly so that you could all be aware of why I haven't been my normal, omnipresent self lately.

Well, that and I don't feel like talking much.

Anyways. I can't say this has been a worthwhile post, although it started out with enough frantic references to seem like it might be fun. Sorry to let you down, guys. I guess I'll talk to you later. Peace.

2003-04-10T17:41:00.000-04:00

There is nothing to say. And yet, somehow that is a longer conversation than silence should ever hold.

I'm going to see Jerry Springer.

2003-04-07T22:55:00.000-04:00

This is a poem, but I didn't write it. I wish I had, though. It's called "The Panther".

"The panther paces.

Waiting reminds him that clarity is painful
but his pain is unreadable,
obscure, chiaroscuro to their human senses.

In time they will misread his gait,
his moon mad eyes,
the almost gentle way his tail caresses the bars.

In time they will mistake him
for something else --
without history,
without the shadow of being,
a creature without the penance of living.

They will read only his name.

They will be unable to perceive
what strangeness
lies beneath his patience.

Patience is the darkest side of power.

He is dark.
He is black.
He is exquisitely powerful.

He has made pain his lover
and hidden her completely.

Now he will never forget.

She will give birth to memories
they believe he has been broken of.

He smells the new rain,
tastes its change.

His claw skates along
the cold floor.

Love curled up and died
on such a floor.

He blinks.
Clarity improves.

He hears other creatures scream and fade.
But silence is his.

He knows.

In time the gates will open.
In time his heart will open.

Then the shadows will bleed
and the locks will break."

2003-04-04T16:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, okay. I broke down and bought it. I know. I have shame.

But I also purchased myself a copy of "Metropolis" (the classic Fritz Lang film) for nine bucks, which is pretty bomb-diggity.

OH OH OH! I got to play the Simpsons arcade game too! But I only had one quarter, and I died midway through Krustyland (2nd level).

And I also managed to get my English paper "completed" and "turned in", which is cool.

I'm taking 28 on the inside corner and I don't plan on stopping there.

Unfortunately, nobody's gonna be here this weekend. Anyone wanna come visit?

Ummmm.......time to go! Peace!

2003-04-03T15:08:00.000-05:00

"Bound with all the weight of all/The words he tried to say/Chained to all the places that/He never wished to stay/Bound with all the weight of all/The words he tried to say/As he faced the sun he cast no shadow........"

2003-04-02T23:52:00.000-05:00

This is not Zen. This is not Zen at all.

"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair."

2003-04-01T00:52:00.000-05:00

There are some days when I just look at the world and wonder how any person can stand the suffocating pressure of the mounting seconds.

Something's gotta give. Today, for whatever reason(s), it's me.

Maybe it'll vanish after a few hours of cadaverly slumber.

I'd undo it all in a moment, now, if I had that option. Womb to tomb, burn it all to ashes and then scatter that to the farthest corners of the Earth. No hope of resurrection, no Lazarus and no salvation for anyone. Fuck it.

And this hasn't even been a bad day, all things considered. The disease chalks up another narrow victory, and I lose the faith I never had to begin with.

Whatever. I love you all. Goodnight.

2003-03-28T03:21:00.000-05:00

So. Honesty apparently doesn't work. And lying definitely doesn't work. Not saying anything ends in confusion, which doesn't work.

I don't know what to do. I was just starting to think that by expressing myself I was allowing some amount of good to work through me. I've ruined everything else. The last thing that remains pure, or at least seems so, are my words. And yet it seems those are vulnerable, corruptable, and useless.

Why keep trying, you ask? I don't know. I ask myself that a lot.....Something stays my hand, and by consequence forces me to stay alive, to fight to save the world even though every action is inherently striking a blow against the cause. As in "political cause".

I'm an open fucking book, people. A well-phrased or unusual question works a miracle you cannot imagine. But nobody wants to read these days. All they wanna do is hear without listening and watch without seeing.

I can't believe I'm agreeing with Eric, but.........DTA!

Maybe I lied so much that people became used to decoding me; when I tell the truth, they decode automatically and destroy the message in the process. There's your fucking wolves for ya, Nigel. I know how you love 'em.

Gods and Goddesses, one and all, I banish thee.

2003-03-25T18:07:00.000-05:00

I forgot to mention that yesterday's first quote came from a chapter about the nature of Echo and echoes......some real heady stuff handling not only the scientific aspects, but more interestingly (by my reckoning, at least) also the mythological, symbolic, etymological (is that even the right word?), and connotative elements. Or whatever. It's just something that might add a new facet to any reflection you guys might be doing out there in your world.

So here's what I'm thinking about right now: If my life were to be made into a movie, I would play the audience, or perhaps I would simply help write the script. Every moment in which I've wanted to make a decisive choice, I have wavered and eventually abdicated that choice. At each point where I might intervene in my own life, actually flesh out the seconds which pass during this abstract drama (calling to mind my desperate love for the Theatre of the Absurd and its ilk), I find myself nothing more than a vaguely interested spectator. And yet all the rest belongs to me. Everything I could want, the whole gamut of emotions, but ultimately two separate entities: the life I choose to live set against the life I cannot gain control of. And that is the basis for conflict.

But the dialogue is always sharp, and the tears (when they fall) are real, and the essence of all good tragedy and comedy blends in me to form a new kind of theatre, beyond existentialism and its fragmented self-invalidation, an Art that is fresh and innovative and yet older even than the Greek choruses which called so clearly in the ecstacy of Dionysian power. My soul drank deep of the blood of Bacchus, and became foul in its glory, and poor in its elegance. With claws that rake the entire span of humanity, I search for a prey that cannot exist. I spin my webs of words, my traced mazes of syllables and synonyms and metaphors and willful conclusions, and yet I find only the hot lights of the stage, burning inside my chest even as I grind out another vain sentence to its inevitable (though seldom expected) ending, that ending which is the darkness of transition between each scene, that kind of poisonous blackness which forces me to run about my duties before the play resumes.

Running in the darkness. An oldie but goodie.

"Running into the darkness
Some hurt bad, some really dying
At nights sometimes it seems
You could hear the whole damn city crying
Blame it on the lies that killed us
Blame it on the truth that ran us down
You can blame it all on me, Terry
It don't matter to me now
When the breakdown hit at midnight
There was nothing left to say
But I hated him
And I hated you when you went away......."

Sorry. I can't toss out a reference to The Boss as casually as any other source. Besides, if I didn't write it down, it would be in my head for the rest of the night. And there's a shade of a memory attached to it, too......making a mix tape. A tape made long ago, no doubt when I was still in high school; I seem to remember it. Sidecar was on it, and.....I don't know what all else.

Wow. Long digressions followed by more of the same. Like a hallway that never ends, or the summary of a midnight road. Ick. It's always intriguing to me, seeing the results of any particular element of a phase at work in me. Imitative drivel, sometimes, but other times oddly lucid and sky-breaking.

I suspect the former. See ya on the flipside.

2003-03-25T00:29:00.000-05:00

A few quotes of interest today, but I'm afraid not much more. Taken from a book.

"Chi dara fine al gran dolore?
L'ore."

Which translates to, "Who will put an end to this great sadness?" "The hours passing."

Also:

"Why did God create a dual universe?
So he might say,
'Be NOT like me. I am alone.'
And it might be heard."

Think on those if you choose to. Or don't. I don't feel like pulling out the soap box right now. I'm lost in the cycles. Peace.

2003-03-22T02:07:00.000-05:00

The irony is that we all believe, in one way or another, that other people have it all worked out, have it all together. We trust other people with our lives every moment of the day. And yet nobody really has the slightest inkling of what the world is about. Except maybe me, just because I'm so perfect and all.

It's hard to catch sarcasm when you're reading it sometimes. That's part of why words are so absolutely worthless.

Though one might argue that only the worthless has any value at all. Some kind of pseudo-minimalism or whatever. I don't know, but there are many days in which I wonder if that is not true.

I've been questioning honesty as a worthwhile mode of life. Maybe everything works out better that way. Conceal the truth at every level to protect kids like me, who aren't strong enough to handle truths they aren't ready to believe.

I need to lay down and immerse myself in not thinking.

2003-03-19T04:27:00.000-05:00

Never give a neurotic something to be afraid of. Why? Cuz they'll run with it.

Never give a neurotic something to be happy about. Why? Cuz they'll run with it.

On a completely unrelated topic, we're dashing towards Red Alert. The utter shutdown of domestic life in this country. Does that scare the fuck out of anyone but me? I mean, I have serious doubts about my personal life being in jeopardy; I'm too crazy for war, and neither Bowling Green nor Lakewood strike me as real likely to be part of any response. But I am concerned about things like nuclear warheads, chemical and biological weapons, and the fact that I have friends in major cities of the world who could be in even more danger. And of course there's always the lurking phantom of a draft, and I have a somewhat strong aversion to letting my friends get sent to risk their lives. Tonight, technically, we find out what happens. I hope it's for the best. That's all I can say.

Well, not all. Cuz I think something else needs to be said: Just in case something happens, I love you all. Whatever's meant to be, we'll meet somewhere together when it's all over. Unless I die, in which case, you guys are stranded cuz I'm not coming back after this life. Anyways. I love you, just to reiterate. I know I'm neurotic, but just understand that, and forgive me. Stay gold, my dearest ladies and gentlemen. Stay fuckin' gold........

2003-03-18T04:34:00.000-05:00

Somebody put an end to all this, please. I can't survive like this.

Tell me it's worth it to keep pushing forward every day because to be honest, every night it seems less and less worthwhile.

Hope everybody enjoyed their St. Patrick's Day. Bye.

2003-03-17T06:59:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if I place far too much emphasis on words, but it seems to be the only way I can express anything at all with a modicum of sincerity. If I had my way, words would become beautiful only for their cadences, the aesthetics of their arrangement, and communication could be done without them. I picture a world in which wordsmithing is an occupation, not an expectation, and the arts become altars of beauty to be adored by all for their elegance. In such a setting, I might rule a small province, and be content.

To phrase that another way, I hope you understand what I'm saying. I do the best I can, but sometimes words, for all their glory, are nothing but carefully orchestrated syllables. Meaning, then, is in the reading, where even the greatest symphony of sound and description may falter and topple into obscurity.

Be careful, my darlings. Nothing is safe in these troubling times, and words least of all. Goodnight.

2003-03-15T14:13:00.000-05:00

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on fire. you always get the chick. now don't
you have someone to rescue? scram.

What fairy tale cliche are you?
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What element are you?
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2003-03-15T13:47:00.000-05:00

There are few things more utterly wonderful than meeting new people, finding inspiration in the least likely of places, and crashing on an unfamiliar couch.

So I'm back now from my short but joyful roadtrip; I return to BG tomorrow. I'll let you know what's happening when it occurs to me to communicate. Good day.

P.S. Another wonderful thing is driving down the road during a warm spring day, just smoking cigarettes and listening to a craptacular mix tape. Just so you know.

2003-03-14T02:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Dorian,
Do not believe in the ridiculous comments of Lord Henry. In doing so you will bring shame and ruin to our mutual friend Mr. Hallward, and that is quite beyond your nature. Allow yourself to be immersed in the simpler and more wholesome pleasures of life's exquisite beauty, rather than the gaudy joys of vanity and corruption. To err is human; to compound errors, base and unforgivable. Basil's artistic life hangs in the balance. Please do that which is right by him, and you will rest easier each night. Thank you for your patience; I await your response with bated breath and an eager spirit.

Sincerely,
Nigel A. Chrome

2003-03-14T02:06:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry. It's a sham. Destroy me, devour me, do as you will. I fear no evil but the hearts of others.

2003-03-14T02:04:00.000-05:00

Maybe you can call this a poem, but if nothing else it's a descriptor of mood at this elevation. The Awakened One has more to learn, and newest learnt replaces oldest known. I die quick deaths, ever after Lenny, and descend like Dante. Or perhaps this is my House of Judgment. Damn, I'm full of references these days. Anyways, here's some crap-ass poem I wrote about two minutes ago.

Basil Hallward calling
The sky is falling
The gates of hell have opened
Maggots pouring forth
A safe magnetic north
A compass down into Inferno
To light the sky
With a demon's eye
And summoning the dawn
Is this the end
Deceitful friend
Or is there more than all?

2003-03-13T00:02:00.000-05:00

Is there some undisclosed location where people from my past hang out until they feel like appearing in my life once more? It seems as though there must be some kind of club or something, the "Former Friends of Nigel Chrome Foundation" or some such. Anyways. Not that it's a bad thing, cuz it tends to get unresolved tension out of my life when people return. It's just fuckin' weird. Especially on a day like tonight, when somebody who told me off quite efficiently at our last point of "conversation" suddenly IMs me and, halfway through our very pleasant conversation, tells me she's got a girlfriend now. This from a girl who, despite one or two prior lesbian experiences, claimed she would never be satisfied with a homosexual lifestyle. Score one for our side, if it lasts.

Anyways. I'm out. Peace, brothas and sistas.

2003-03-12T18:08:00.000-05:00

For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I have found all the answers I sought for in religion.

You who travel the road, beware. Siddhartha is about and I will, indeed, have to kill him.

"We're on the road and we're gunning for the Buddha/We know his name and he mustn't get away....."

2003-03-12T03:29:00.000-05:00

Riding high on the three C's......life is glorious.

I remember now what the world looked like, on the rare occasions I penetrated the gloomy veil cast over my decrepit eyes. There's a radiant glow to everything, when I allow myself to see it. Like the silhouette of an angel dancing through a twilight heaven landscape.

I can't find a way to make this make sense for you. This kind of beauty, this overwhelming joie de vie (if that's indeed how it's spelled) cannot be described. Even Orpheus would be hard-pressed to translate the fullness of my elation into the poverty of words, the pesky incarnations of a bankrupt soul. But I can feel it, this beauty coursing through veins long-withered but starting to revive.

I've played so long in tragedy, dabbling in the most solemn and painful aspects of this delicate existence. I had forgotten that life exists as an educational playground, not a chamber of torture. Comedies have always appealed to me for their essential impossibilites and carefully crafted unreality. It is time for me to return to them, now, and accept the truths that lay like sleeping babes beneath the artifice. There is hope, and joy, and resurrection in these myths. I must celebrate that which I once defiled, rebuild that which I broke in my jaded and wizened age.

Like Merlin, I had to wait a long time in solitude before I could escape the cave I had been locked into. But I've slipped out now, and I have come to spread with you assembled listeners my righteous mirth. Perhaps my grains of wisdom will fall to hardened ears, but I hope to plant some seed of this into all of you. I want to inspire you as I have been inspired, to call you to the holy altar at which I now kneel and offer thanks to omnipotent Fate.

There was a time when I thought I would devour the world and turn it all to wreckage. I suspected myself of being the next in a long line of unyielding, savage tyrants. I drew comparisons to the monsters of history and legend, a fell prophet of disease and destruction.

I have changed my mind.

I know, you're probably all thinking I've drowned along the manic shores of the vast ocean which swells within me. Maybe that is so, and perhaps I will find out that I have not changed at all. I have sworn such oaths as are clustered in this passage many times before, and failed to uphold them in the days that followed. Yet I hope, against the odds set in place by my past, that this will be the time I conquer the demons, that I reform from wicked ways and thoughts and serve a new purpose in life. I cannot change myself completely, nor would it be worthy to do so. I am no Icarus, and must avoid his fate. But maybe something in me will finally crack, my armor rent by the piercing of a simple evening, and I shall discover the fraction of pure personality I hid away within the labyrinth. Perhaps I am nothing but Danielewski's vision of the Minotaur as disfigured human, concealed and condemned in the name of the public welfare. A fine romantic portrait in my mind, if nothing else.

And so I offer these words, though they have never been mine to give: "Thank you for making me/See there's a life in me/It was dying to get out......."

Goodnight to you, dear friends. And may the morning dawn as wonderfully as ever it could on you all. I'll meet you at the end of the maze, and maybe we can all share a few words of beauty and a pot of coffee. Cross your fingers for me; Fate alone can aid me in my triumphant escape, but I'll take all the help I can get. I love you.

2003-03-10T00:51:00.000-05:00

Man, this is a crazy spring break. I have seriously done nothing but watch movies, listen to good-ass musick, and read. Which, oddly enough, seems to be about all I need in order to be content. Though I would be happy to have a good cup of coffee and even better company (I don't have a cellphone just to use the alarm, people). Cannot drop enough "hints" that I'm on spring break, reasonably sane, and eager to hang out with somebody. Anybody. If you can't imagine how eager I am for a little activity, please consider the fact that I actually woke up and SERIOUSLY CONSIDERED JOGGING. No destination, just thought I'd go jogging. THOUGHT I MIGHT SEE SOMETHING INTERESTING. Yes, these are actual thoughts that went through my head this afternoon. Who knows?

I had a really bizarre dream last night. It greatly resembled "The Getaway" (for PS2; it's like "GTA 3" only much better) and culminated in beating up George Clooney, Triad-style, while wearing my boots. Somewhat odd to say the least. But very entertaining.

Yeah. So. That's all I got right now. Peace.

P.S. I'm going to see Margaret Cho! HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS THAT GONNA BE? Yeah! Pumped!

2003-03-06T21:43:00.000-05:00

WOOOOOO! SPRING BREAK!

LAUDERDALE RULES, MAN!

2003-03-05T08:41:00.000-05:00

Again, just posting to let you know I'm alive. And sleep-deprived. Natty and I went to Big Boy's a while ago. It was great. But now I'm starting to wear out, so I guess I'm going to go to bed. I have no classes today, so I won't mind sleeping my hours away. The only two things I have to do are study for my sociology test and go to the Greenery for good good food. I anticipate no problems. The week's almost over for me; I'm practically boiling over with anticipation. Okay, it's bedtime. Peace out.

2003-03-02T17:52:00.000-05:00

So it's been a week, now, since last I posted. For those who aren't aware, I've been on a hiatus from blogging due to my recent surge of nausea as far as this thing goes. I still have not come to any kind of clear resolution; at the moment, I'm leaning towards dismantling. Anyways, I'll let you guys know about that as further developments occur, so I guess you should keep checking this every once in a while for now.

So what's the sitch, you ask? I'm alive and somewhat well. I have two tests this week, but after that I have a good week of rest and relaxation. For whatever reason, it's needed. Bromfield's been kind of tense lately; I think everybody's got a dangerous dose of cabin fever.

Fuck it. I'm out. Peace.

2003-02-23T04:02:00.000-05:00

I don't know what I might have to say today, but it seems like it's been forever since I posted (it's been a day in actuality, but if you don't know about my relationship with time, then you have much to learn).

I keep typing things and then deleting them. No words seem worthy enough to fill this space.

I miss my Muse. At least then I was driven, though not always to a place I wanted to be.

I cannot describe how I feel without leading you, my insatiable (if only!) audience, into misunderstanding. Suffice it to say that I am too alive, yet not alive enough.

The phone is no longer safe, but spiteful. It would love to see me made foolish, a capering jester to be mocked and crucified. I will not relent.

If a man was drowning, who among you would cast him a lifesaver? Who among you can spot the difference between a man who is drowning and a man who is merely treading water?

"Across a dabbling, babbling brook
A horseman found a ford;
He was bucked and fell to drown
Though not of his own accord.

Sing hey, sing hey, for the golden pony shy
Who threw a monster from his back
And left him there to die......"

I don't know what to tell ya, folks. I wish I could find a way to speak my mind, but the few times I've succeeded, I've failed. So it's kinda up to you to imagine how I am. But then, nobody is really all that concerned, I don't think. Although that may be a good thing.

This monstrosity is so fucking pointless. I type words that have meaning only for me so that you, faithless audience, might realize that all I'm asking for is somebody to care. Do you get that, guys? Do you realize (and here I illuminate some small portion of my nearly-infinite labyrinth) that this blog is INTENTIONALLY cryptic? I am attempting to draw you in with my mystique in hopes that somebody, sooner or later, will actually make some sense of these useless fucking words and understand what it is that I am seeking. Don't think I am fooled by your showings of concern; they are nominal in nature and shallow in scope. I know who is on my side and who is not, though it scarcely seems to matter. None of you, I think, understand that all these posts are related. That every post is, essentially, the same as the next one. The topic is always the same. The only thing that changes is the caliber of my words, and words these days are not worth what I once thought they were. I grow weary of my own pithy attempts at intimacy with you all, though I admit the failings have all been mine. As they always have been, and always will be. The cause removed, the symptoms remain uncured. I am not angry with you, though I seem so in this fevered paragraph; I am simply ill. It makes me ill that I have deluded myself into such a state. I thought, vainly, that I was merely being cleverly open all along, that my elaborate wordplay was in some way allowing you to peer behind my walls and thus somehow valuable. I have shamed myself with this belief, for I see now that cleverness was lost somewhere between us, and for you my words are merely trinkets. While they may seem fair, few of you can appraise them for their true worth. Though I am not renowned for honesty in this sphere, I have offered to you that which is most precious to me: the thoughts and emotions which flood this frail existence, filling my days with fleeting joys and my nights with the agony of regret. Nobody has ever bothered to ask why it is that I prefer not to sleep at night. Do you want to know? Do you really care? Or would you rather have me continue this charade which allows you to sleep unconcerned in the darkest nights while I roam my cell like an animal? I suspect that many will choose the latter. After all, ignorance is widely confused with bliss. I conceal to protect not only myself, but you as well. I am not asking for you to bear the burden of my conscience, which is too much a load for any not used to such a thing; I will bear it alone as I have always done, and with no sorrow in my step for it. I do not know what I am asking of you, if anything at all. I only know that few of you understand anything I say, and none all of it, and that the onus is on me to make everything clear yet palatable. I have no strength for this last task. I have sacrificed, until now, clarity for taste, and may continue to do so, though it pains me greatly. Long ago I began the path of the selfish martyr of my own accord, and I find myself now at journey's end, changed in all but the most essential of ways. A lone pilgrim, walking out of the wilderness only to find that his journey has been nothing but a circling of familiar domains.

Fuck it. If any of you got that, good for you. The rest of you.......I don't know. Maybe we'll talk again.

This may have to end.

Goodnight.

2003-02-21T03:08:00.000-05:00

Picture me cackling maniacally at this moment.

Sometimes I gotta just laugh at my own ridiculous intricacies.

2003-02-18T21:49:00.000-05:00

Whenever I am suffering from a moment of joy, I thank goodness that I own a sufficient amount of depressing CDs to prevent any happiness from taking root.

Blake Schwarzenbach should call me up.

"Summer dress your hair's wet and gets into our kisses
Can you tell why my intentions wind up just near misses?
There's a kindness in your smile but my sky plays fatal music
There's the promise and the shell of great beginnings seldom finished......"

That used to be my song for Jim Cole, at one time. Before it became another in the litany of songs I memorize (memorialize) to form my patchwork (clockwork) psyche. Time ticks away down the drain, and I seem unconcerned. But then, my life ended long ago.....lost to days in which I played in a sphere much higher than I should ever have striven for. My Bosie moment, though of such less consequence (except to me).

"Prince Fleur de Lys wishes to be remembered to you."

There are few pieces missing now. But the ones that I need most are, seemingly, gone for good. So I will dream, if only because in dreams I stand a chance of being somebody else. Another time, another place, yadda-yadda......Fuck it.

I'm off to do something totally unproductive. Have fun, my beautiful little monsters.

2003-02-17T03:13:00.000-05:00

So.....what haven't I posted lately? Uh......the unexpected roadtrip to Ann Arbor was pretty cool. We (Cool Dan from Perrysburg, Joe, Natty, and myself) were intending to go to an art exhibit there, but we missed it. So instead we drove around for a while and went to Denny's. Then came back to the dorm. Other things......uh......no, there's pretty much nothing else. I'm sick. It's cold and snowy here. I'm almost done with my application to OSU; I just need to polish off a few questions and hope everything's kosher. This is something that I'm really looking forward to, honestly. Normally I would try to squelch my optimism since, as we all know, whenever I get excited about something, it falls apart. However, I'm finding it impossible with this issue. Which means it's the right path, whether it works out in the end or not. Or at least, that's how I'm looking at it. Alright. That's enough of this. I need to sleep. I'll talk to you later, dreamers.

2003-02-15T06:40:00.000-05:00

So I had this theory that maybe if I tried to post, some of the hostility and tension I'm feeling might dissapate and I could get some fucking sleep. But now that I'm here, ready to type every last acid-coated word onto this pageless chronicle, all that cleverness and linguistic maneuvering that has become my trademark ditches me at the altar of artistic intent. I guess you'll get what I can offer. But then, you guys should be used to my cryptic style by now. Cryptic......an oddly accurate adjective for me. A walking tomb, a sarcophagus holding the dusty remnants of what might have been a person at one time.

Welcome to the labyrinth.

My entire life has been spent pursuing my own twisted view of "normalcy". I didn't even know what I was looking for. All I knew is that it was everything that I wasn't, a message drilled into me since birth. It seems like every time I could have gotten close to achieving it, I had to run away. I claim the artistic life, but in actuality I had no choice. Is it even possible for a kid like me to cross over into that world?

Something's gotta give, damn it. I'm trying desperately to make sure it's not me this time.

I'm digging my trench for the night. I got one last silver bullet left in this pack, so it's time to brave the cold weather and hope that it's enough to put me to sleep tonight. Another wretched night will, hopefully, draw to a close. Talk to ya tomorrow.

2003-02-15T03:06:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the thoughts. I know they're there, even if nobody says them.

I just wanna sleep.

2003-02-14T03:11:00.000-05:00

Tear this motherfucker down. I don't want these fucking lies; they make all of the air in this cramped room thick and foul.

"Tell me lies, tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies......"

Ridiculous. Can't you stop dreaming for once and get at least a toe on solid ground? You talk a grand life but have shown absolutely no effort in shaping it, and, in fact, have only shown effort in preventing these aims of yours from being realized.

Go away. For Bog's sake, leave me in peace. Or leave me in pieces.

"When you're on, I swear you're on......."

2003-02-14T03:00:00.000-05:00

Here's a little ballad in honor of Love Day.....not much else to say right now.

"I'm missing your bed, I never sleep
Avoiding the spots where we'd have to speak
& this bottle of beast is taking me home.
I'm cuddling close to blankets and sheets
You're not alone & you're not discreet.
You make sure I know, who's taking you home.
I'm reading your note over again.
There is not a word that I comprehend,
except when you signed it
"I will love you always & forever"

As for now I'm gonna hear the saddest songs,
and sit alone and wonder,
how you're making out,
but as for me I wish that I was anywhere
with anyone making out

I'm missing your laugh, how did it break?
And when did your eyes begin to look fake?
I hope you're as happy as your pretending.
I'm missing you bed, I never sleep.
Avoiding the spots where we'd have to sleep.
And this bottle of beast is taking me home.

Your hair.
It's everywhere.
Screaming infidelities.
Taking it's wear."

-Dashboard Confessional

P.S. "Snuck" is a word. Conan had a big debate about it on his show tonight. It was great. Okay bye.

2003-02-13T17:38:00.000-05:00

So am I the only person with nothing to do? Everybody else seems busy with school or clubs or friends or whatever. And what am I doing?

I am doing the same thing I always do. Hittin' up the Sundial for a quick meal, then kickin' it for the rest of the night with the Blazer keds. Wondering about things that seem important, though they aren't. Questioning purpose, past, and all that lies outside my claimed realm. Existential hedonism conflicted within itself, torn apart by its own sense of lack of worth.

We burnt some CDs today, though. So now I own mad good stuff, like that Dashboard I bummed off Jess for a few months. And tons of other good shit. I have to sit down sometime and start listening. "License to Ill", at last!

I just rocked a Sociology test, too. That's tight.

Uh....yeah. I got a list of things to do. So peace out.

2003-02-12T22:31:00.000-05:00

I feel like posting all and none of what I'm thinking. None of it really needs heard.

It's only a few words, really. A few momentary scratches on the surface of an overarching destiny. A few words with which to paralyze a man well-versed in their crafts. Why speak of words when words hold no intrinsic meaning?

So why am I constructing a fortress within these words? What am I guarding?

Real, not ideal. Real, not ideal. Real, not ideal.

Lies in victory, lies in loss. Whatever medicine to cure an infection unknown to science.

"Nothing is sure/Every four hours/King Medicine/This subject loves you....."

2003-02-11T20:58:00.000-05:00

Saddam Enrages Bush With Full Compliance

WASHINGTON, DC—President Bush expressed frustration and anger Monday over a U.N. report stating that Iraqi president Saddam Hussein is now fully complying with weapons inspections. "Enough is enough," a determined Bush told reporters. "We are not fooled by Saddam's devious attempts to sway world opinion by doing everything the U.N. asked him to do. We will not be intimidated into backing down and, if we have any say in the matter, neither will Saddam." Bush added that any further Iraqi attempt to meet the demands of the U.N. or U.S. will be regarded as "an act of war."

Props to Margaret for accidentally intentionally giving me this. Again, let me repeat: THIS MAN IS THE NEW REAGAN! "Bomb 'em if they don't comply, bomb 'em if they do comply, and bomb 'em again just in case any civilians survived!" Fucker.

Anybody still confused on why the rest of the world hates Amerika?

2003-02-11T12:13:00.000-05:00

I AM IN!

All I need now is a check.

"Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU, you're cool, fuck you I'm out!"

So I'm definitely moving to Columbus, as soon as I can get this check out. And with any luck, I can transfer to OSU, which would be tight as fuck if I can pull it off. But OSU means changing my major......to theatre. If it comes down to that. I'll worry about that later. Cuz OSU is not anywhere near definite, and maybe not even possible. We'll see.

Wow, I'm rambling about a lot of stuff that's completely up in the air. Probably jinxing it all. So I'll shut up. Yeah. Bye.

2003-02-11T11:43:00.000-05:00

Well, not all the votes are in yet, but it looks like I'm probably moving to Columbus!

"I am Ian, Lord of the Wasteland!"

Exclamation points, on the rare occasion that I use them, indicate great excitement. I think I'll be changing my imood to reflect this.

Keep your fingers crossed, white bread chicken shit!

I'm still pumped from this past weekend too.......I love Fate! You've fucked me before, but it looks like you're coming around for a big push. I'm raising my glass to Change. Cheers to both of you.

HELL YEAH! Time to think about getting ready for class! Bye!

2003-02-09T16:33:00.000-05:00

Again, I reiterate the notion of the global community. What my hooded sweatshirt states: "One People, One Struggle".

New declaration as to the best road trip ever. Definitely yesterday. Pennsylvania, despite being so close to Ohio, is like a world unto itself. Millvale is a boring city; everything had closed by the time Bill and I arrived. We had a lot of time to kill. But kill time we did. Then five pretty decent bands, including Justin Sane's solo performance, which was obnoxious but surprisingly good. Then Anti-Flag rocked the fucking house. Bill bet me a cigarette that they wouldn't play "911 For Peace". They did. I won a cigarette. Later Bill bummed a bunch off me. Everything worked out fine. Then a very enlightening and interesting drive home, a fun trip to My Friend's, and some old-fashioned chillin' in my room.

Tonight's goals: study for Geology. Two quizzes tomorrow. Not so cool. But at least that's all I have. Plus, of course, the haul back to BG, but I don't know if that really needs stated. And a shower.

I got a lot to do, but don't feel like doing too much. As usual. But I swear, upon all that is holy, that I will find a way to get it all done. I really want to pass these quizzes cuz something tells me GEOL 104 will be my lowest grade this semester if I don't. Yeah. So I'm gonna go do something. Hopefully. Wish me luck.

2003-02-08T02:04:00.000-05:00

Themes:

the phoenix/resurrection
mazes
deception
death
distance
intended ambiguity
memory
fatal irony

These seem much more drab when typed, but a moment ago this seemed to mean so much more. I don't know.

The neurotic eruption. It's the best tactic I can offer. And tears. Salt burns my skin. Somehow I still enjoy that.

Gotta be a glutton for punishment, don't ya? Gotta always be looking for the most painful experience you can create. The lull of bliss converted into needless suffering and back again. Your phoenix, if you want one.

An image burned onto my retina? Where do you come up with this pathetic pseudo-poetic bullshit?

It finally clicked today. The education aspect. The spreading of the word. The insistent push towards a global community. That's what I hated, but it's one of the most important elements. And when I understand it in full, I will be what I have pledged to be.

I have to go now. It's time for me to forget my mind. Goodnight.

2003-02-07T17:04:00.000-05:00

Slowly but surely, Nigel is being rooted out. Every trace of his overblown insanity must die before I can claim this victory. But I've been told today that the battle is going well.

I will win. I will win because I must win. In the war of one's soul, there can be only one casualty. And Nigel's got it coming.

Peace, y'all.

2003-02-06T16:32:00.000-05:00

BREAK A LEG, LARAMIE KEDS!

2003-02-05T01:31:00.000-05:00

I thought you said it would help........

2003-02-05T01:16:00.000-05:00

19 hours of sleep is, I think, a new record for me. I was awake for about 15 minutes in the middle though, so I guess it technically doesn't count. It was great, but waking up kinda sucked.

I got a B+ on my English paper. Don't know what to say about that.

Dude, I wish somebody were here to talk to. Not that I have anything particular to talk about. It would just be nice. I suppose I could try actually contacting somebody, but......I dunno. That's not really my style.

It's Wednesday. Not too much longer to go. I'm gonna try.

Bye.

2003-02-03T16:42:00.000-05:00

So I'm either so tired that I'm hyper, or so hyper that I'm tired, or a fair mixture of both. It's terrible, yet addictively pleasurable. Fuckin' mania.

This is distorted. This is not accurate. My reactions are out of whack because of the weird sleep schedule. I'm all jittery like a speed freak. I probably freaked out the kid I did my lab with today, cuz I was all stuttering and shit.

Mystery solved. Megan apparently took my flip-flops (without asking) because she didn't have any shoes and needed to go upstairs for some reason. Luckily, Joe knew where they were and retrieved them for me (cuz I asked him if he knew anything when I got back from class), so I can take a shower soon. I'm still pissed off though. That ain't right, stealin' a man's showering shoes. It's her fault that I am so disgusting right now. DAMN YOU, MEGAN, YOU CRAZY BIPOLAR DRUG ADDICT! Naw, Megan ain't really so bad. She's just fake, like everybody else. Myself included.

Joe and I are disagreeing about how much sleep I have gotten lately. He claims that I slept yesterday morning, but I don't think I did. I distinctly remember thinking earlier that I was getting four hours of sleep in two days. Curséd inability to remember things. I guess it doesn't matter anyway. I'll just sleep when I sleep. As long as I get to class on time; that's all that matters. Though I'm pretty sure that I'm not gonna be able to return next year anyway. I have to find my handbook so I can figure out some things about that particular issue.

I turned my English paper in today, finally. And I sucked up hardcore in doing it. Yep, I was shamelessly kissing ass to keep myself in her good graces. Even though it wasn't entirely my fault that the paper was late, and she seemed real understanding about it. Cuz I missed an apparently crucial class when I had to go to the Health Center; somehow I ended up missing some big affair which caused the paper I was prepared to turn in upon my return the following class to be considerably deficient. Luckily, that paper counts for very little compared to the rest of them, so even if I get a sub-perfect grade, it won't hurt me too much. Which is great.

Yeah.......so I think I'm about to go do something. I don't know what yet, but I have a feeling it'll involve me listening to music and reading something. Peace out.

2003-02-03T11:11:00.000-05:00

So I can't find my flip-flops, which means that I'm not really gonna be getting the much-needed shower I've been looking forward to since waking up last night. I don't trust this place enough to go in the shower without a protective layer between my shoes and whatever may be on the floor in there. Something else, too.......but what? I don't really remember. But I'm still awake and I'm still bored, so here's even more quizzes.

Which Kid's TV Character are You?Find out!

Pre-Hyptnotized Peter

What Office Space character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're in the Freak box.

What box do you get put in?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are X! You helped to start the very influencial
LA punk scene and played with all of the other
greats of the era at the Whiskey A-Go-Go.
Today, you still do the occasional tour and all
of the members have successful side projects.

Which one of my favorite bands are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are somewhat annoying. Don't worry about
it; it's probably just a phase. Are you
seventeen yet?

(Go to college, kids!)

How Annoying Are You In Your Online Diary?
brought to you by Quizilla

Are You Crazy??Find out!

Which Part of a Meal Are You?Find out!

Which Music Type are You?Find out!

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti

you are the buttercup-sticking-her-tougue-out-
picture-that-used-to-be-my-desktop-until-i-
changed-it-to-the-bettie-page-one!

what random image that i have save on my hard drive are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You really do enjoy the view from the top, don't you? Making your own trail instead of following a path, you have high goals for yourself. A bit impulsive, you need to watch out for being a little overconfident, and everything will be up, up, and away for you! .

You're one of those candy bars that just never made it off the assembly line, or once you did, you were only bought by 44-year-old men with bladder bags. Now, if you like that sort of thing...

A dreamer is your type. Seen as "not quite
there", you see things that few do. You
make people think, and your friends turn to you
for insight.

A different quiz, what strange type of person are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

A cywydd llosgyrnog; I'm one.
"A what?" Well, quite. There'd be no fun
In being understood; I
Thrive upon obliquity.
Don't comprehend or follow me,
For mystery's my ally.

What Poetry Form Are You?

I am a Top-hat.

I'm a bit of a jack-of-all-trades; creative, in a stylistic sort of way, a little vain, a little dark, perhaps a little archaic. I get on alright with people, but I can take them or leave them. What Sort of Hat Are You?

my method of suicide: slit wrists.

how would you commit suicide?

Nerdslut

What's your sexual appeal?
brought to you by Quizilla

your eyes show unhappiness

which eye are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Are you damned?

You're coming back! And if you are a Hindu you are going to have very specific characteristics:

"The slayer of a woman and the destroyer of embryos becomes a savage full of diseases; who commits illicit intercourse, a eunuch; who goes with his teacher’s wife, disease-skinned. The eater of flesh becomes very red; the drinker of intoxicants, one with discolored teeth...." (Garuda Purana)

What
cartoon dog are you?

Brought to you by the good folks at sacwriters.com.

Which Genocidal Maniac Are You?

How BLACK are you?

Brought to you by the good folks at sacwriters.com.

Vocalist

Theres more to you than you care to share with the
world. While your other bandmates are out
partying.... your trapped inside your mind
trying to put yourself on paper. But when you
are out with them, you take the lead like you
do on stage.

What Instrument in a rock band are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Which Famous Homosexual are you?

What
lesser-known Simpsons character are you?

Brought to you by the good folks at sacwriters.com.

Okay, I'm finally done. I gotta get ready for class. I'm still pissed about missing that shower, though. That sucks. Oh well. Goin' to class and gettin' some sleep. Yeah.

Oh yeah, if you think this was a lot of quizzes, realize that this is the short list. How fucking pathetic must I be?

2003-02-03T05:42:00.000-05:00

I can't sleep again. But tomorrow I only have a lecure and a lab (3 hours tops, maybe 2 if lab goes smoothly), so I'll just sleep then. Pushin' the machine to point of breaking. I have more than a touch of dissembler in me.

Hey, guess what? Quizzes. Here ya go.

I'm an Atheist!

Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?

Take More of Robert & Tim's Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim's Cartoons

Ewwwww. I am sooooo not Jesus. All I are is a mock-savior, a wannabe-Jesus. I don't even know why I bothered taking this test. I am quite possibly a homosexual... or Jewish.

Take the What Jesus Would You Be? Quiz

Psycho. You are overwhelmed by anger. You may even
hate the world and everything in it and you
believe revenge is the way of the world. An eye
for an eye.

How Emotional Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are a CYNICAL VIRGIN.

What Kind of Virgin Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You do not deserve a name. You are just a bitch.

What Name SHOULD You Have Been Called?
brought to you by Quizilla

interpretive

*~ What kind of dreamer are you? ~*
brought to you by Quizilla

You are Air...you are intellectual and adaptable.
You are good at rationalizing things and
dealing with ideas, but you can have a
difficult time with emotions.

What Element Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are a Pomegranate...unconventional, unique, and
just a little bit tart...you know how to make a
lasting impression and often do so with your
zest for life...

What Kind of Fruit Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Reds are physical and sexual. They love expressing
themselves through their sensuality and their
physical bodies. They live their lives in the
here-and-now with zest, strength, courage and
self-confidence.

What Is Your True Aura Colour?
brought to you by Quizilla

regular punk

What kind of punk kid are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Okay, I'm gonna call it quits, but only because I have already filled up a big chunk of space. I may do a few more later, since I'll still be up and probably won't have too much to do. Okay bye.

2003-02-02T20:48:00.000-05:00

I got a quick four of sleep this afternoon, and woke up to Jess asking me if I wanted anything from McDonald's. So right there, my two earlier problems (fatigue and hunger) were completely solved. And it's only gettin' better......

So here's what I'm thinking: The name of the executioner in "Shrek" is, unless I'm much mistaken, Polonius. Who is, incidentally, one of my favorite character roles ever. I wanna play him some day, if I could. If only I could act.......

The real Polonius, I mean. From that play. With the crazy dude and the sad chick? Well, here's a quote (in two parts) from one of the other characters in the play.

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts."

"There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say a made a good end."

For those who don't know, the assumed designations for the flowers in the second part are as follows: fennel for flattery/deceit, columbines for infidelity, rue for regret, daisies for dissembling/destruction, and violets for faithfulness. Together, the flowers are said to make an herbal abortion potion. And the puns are sublime. That set of lines alone is enough reason for me to dedicate myself entirely to Theatre, to art (to Art!), to everything worth loving in life. And then I think about what it means to be an artist. To never being satisfied, to seeking restlessly, to being judged, to Reading Gaol and the triple cocktail and all the other curiosies of the temperament and lifestyle.

The choice, my dear ones, is made. Here's your flowers.

2003-02-02T11:50:00.000-05:00

So occasionally my insomnia (if that's what you can call it) becomes such as to spur me into an all-nighter. This is one of those occasions.

More time in the day, though, means more time to think. But if I didn't have to think, I'd be able to sleep. It's a careful balance, y'know.

I knew I should have been eating better all along, but I didn't realize until recently the difference that a meal makes. Partially just because of the biochemical aspects, but also because of the experience one gets from food. I eat well here, which might explain my less erratic mindset.

In fact, I'm hungry right now, but The Galley is closed and I'm far too lazy to walk anywhere else.

The ocean of my consciousness.......yep, this is it, folks. This is what I think about all day. I regret not eating more in the past. So amazingly boring is my life that I actually contemplate my antiquated eating habits for huge spans of time, and subsequently feel shame. And that's why I can't sleep, right there, is that I was so distraught over this incredibly relevant issue. Well, not really. You all know that wasn't why, because I'd probably just pop some more Nyquil if that was the case. I had much more "important" thoughts to attend to.

I may post some other trivial stuff later, but for now I'm out. I'll talk to ya later, keds. Peace.

2003-01-31T19:14:00.000-05:00

So I just got into a big argument with a bunch of people. My basic assumption: The Beatles were nothing more than the N'Sync of their age. "Tell ya why, Mrs. Lovett, tell ya why....."

Here's the thing. While many people love The Beatles, their music is unadulterated pop. Their songs reflect the eras in which they were made, but they did not shape any musical style. Like David Bowie, they adapted their image to prevalent ideals in order to garner a larger audience. Their songs were pathetically inoffensive and trite. And I do mean all of them, from "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" to "Eleanor Rigby". This is not to say that I dislike them, because I think their songs are enjoyable. However, I think there's a vast difference between "enjoyable" and "influential". In terms of rock and roll, more influential bands could include: Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, The Clash, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, and other bands which actually attempted to synthesize different styles and approaches to create more powerful music. The reason that Elvis was such an important mark, even though he grew to be pathetic, is that he brought the roots of rock, being chiefly blues and gospel influences, to new audiences. Similarly, Carl Perkins. The Rolling Stones blended rock with blues, country, and a newly-born element of glam and showmanship, which persists today. The Doors incorporated a percentage of that showmanship, but also put poetry and raw emotion back into rock, without which little modern music would be useful at all, except as pure entertainment. Lastly, and I'll admit that many might disagree, I think The Clash took the work of earlier musicians in blending styles and pushed it further. Somehow, they managed to incorporate rock, punk, ska, reggae, popular music, folk music, "world music", funk, and hip-hop. If The Clash, and in fact all of the artists I have listed, had not broken down the barriers between styles, modern music would be pathetic and trivial. Do not challenge me on this unless you have more than a passing understanding of rock history, because this shit is my life. The reason I got into music at all was because of bands like The Clash. U2 has even gone so far as to admit that The Clash allowed them to exist. The Beatles were only working-class heroes until they left England; after that, they were a bunch of nancy-boys writing fluffy songs about drugs and girls. John Lennon was the only one among them who ever made anything of himself, and his post-Beatles work reflects nothing of that band because, ultimately, Lennon wanted to pursue music that meant something. "Imagine", "Working Class Hero", and "Cold Turkey" could not have been written by The Beatles as a band. The band, as a whole, was a bunch of vapid yahoos. Had they been so influential as some people seem to think, politics and world events would not be allowable subjects for songs, nor would poverty, disease, or any other form of suffering. Whatever one might think, people like U2, Madonna, Eminem, Green Day, and essentially any band which actually has produced so much as a single meaningful song (in any sense larger than personal) owe nothing to The Beatles. The so-called "hippie movement" was never based on The Beatles; it was based on music produced by the discontented. The Beatles may have been against the war in Vietnam, and completely in support of civil rights for all, yet how much of this actually shows up in their songs? Jimi Hendrix, in playing "The Star-Spangled Banner", asserted both beliefs simultaneously. Janis Joplin's lament in being too poor, even at the height of her fame, to earn her "Mercedes Benz", offers a much more powerful view of inequality in the world, a basic tenet of the times, than, say, "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds". Again, let me restate that I have no objections to The Beatles' songs, for I think that they are quite good FOR WHAT THEY ARE, which is music designed to be popular. Anybody with a slight idea of how The Beatles actually evolved must realize that before they were famous, they were a bunch of greasy alley-cat rockers. In transferring to America, they gave up whatever credibility they had and became utter sell-outs. Neither Elvis nor The Doors allowed themselves to be manipulated by the media so completely; both were reprimanded for their "indecent activities" on the Ed Sullivan show. When The Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan, they played the roles they were given and refused to challenge the standards set for them by a conservative media style. This allowed them to be famous, but at the price of their integrity. If The Beatles had been half as groundbreaking as many say, how come they waited for others to bend or break rules before they did so? The answer, in my opinion, is that they weren't groundbreaking, except in being the biggest PR machine in the music industry until the band, with no idea what new stance to take, collapsed under the pressure of its own self-promotion. Fuck The Beatles.

Alright, I apologize for that rant. But I just can't stand hearing people make such a tragic mistake in their understanding of rock music. For me, music is far more than entertainment. It's a way of defining myself, expressing myself, examining the world and its myriad inhabitants, and changing some of the inadequacies within society. I study it because it is such an integral part of my very existence. I take it very personally when people try to hand me some bullshit about a bunch of poseurs creating something so valuable to me, particularly when it is a bold-faced lie (in my opinion). I have experience. I have been listening to music my entire life, I have gone to shows since I was a baby (literally), I have read books and articles and interviews on the subject, and I have performed within a band (and known members of many others). I know what the fuck I'm talking about here, but if you think I don't, then feel free to let me know. As long as you have an INTELLIGENT argument, I will debate with you open-mindedly; I enjoy hearing others' opinions as long as they have substantial reasons and evidence to back them up. I promise. Anyways, I have other matters to which I should be attending; I just had to get that out of my system before I punched Eric's lights out.

Oh yeah, if anyone's interested, Mandarin Mints are well worth the five bucks or whatever they cost. They're delicious.

Kick out the jams, mothers and fuckers!

2003-01-31T03:04:00.000-05:00

Well, once again I prove my own incompetence. This was meant to be posted yesterday.

"Against that time
If ever that time shall pass
When I shall see thee frown on my defects
When as thy love
Hath cast its utmost sum
Called to unguarded by advised respects
Against that time........

To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws
Since why to love I can allege no cause......"

I think I quoted right.....if not, tell me cuz you know I'll fix it. Anyways. That song's been in my head all night. Normally that would hurt, but tonight....somehow today is a brilliant day in the life of Ian. I can't explain it, but all day I've just felt really happy for once. And I don't mind sharing that with you guys a bit. Thanx for all your support, everyone.

Today's poem (copyright Nigel Chrome, 2003):

The snow descends:
An ashen cloud descending from the crimson
Of this dying sunset
Which leaves a dark trail of flames
To gallop across the frost.
I exhale slowly,
Savoring the sculpture my breath makes in the air.
Dark creeps in,
An honest thief
Which pays for the jewelled light it steals
In miles of black velvet
And the sparkling, somewhere, of stars.

Anyways. I liked it. I wrote it today, even though it's not really based on today. Something in the air, I guess. I don't know. We'll see if I'm still elated tomorrow. Bye bye.

2003-01-30T18:53:00.000-05:00

It seems as though the terrifically awesome picture which I made Max add to this blog has expired. That is fairly upsetting, because I liked it a lot. It made my hair look prettier than it really is.

"Flirting with the lens......." That's an interesting statement for me, what with my natural fear of cameras and, in fact, most recording devices. I have never, as far as I can remember (laugh it up, guys), been accused of flirting with anything, let alone a camera. But I do have a knack for fucking up my face, when I want to.

Yesterday Brian told me I looked particularly punk rock. It was kinda nice, in a way. I don't know why. I also have a knack for fashion, when I want to. Today I looked kinda Strummer-ish, what with my dark blue jeans and black polo shirt. I have no idea what my intentions were, but I decided to look presentable today, and succeeded beyond my expectations. However, no reward for my fashion has come forth so far.

"True genius is frequently born of either great suffering or great incompetence." -Nigel A. Chrome

To be quite honest, I am indeed feeling happier, despite the number of references to "Hamlet" that I've come across lately. Blame Wilde for several, of course, but there have been a few others. Which means, of course, that I have to take time off from "The Fellowship of the Ring" and read through "Hamlet" again. Some part of me must need to read that now, for whatever reason. I suppose I'll find out more when I do read it again.

"The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables." (Thanx Max.) Bless that Bard and his cleverness!

I'm smiling, guys. For real. It's a goofy, big-lipped semi-smile, but it's honest and therefore it's the best smile I've had in quite some time.

"Sing alleluia......." (And segue into intermission......)

2003-01-29T21:19:00.000-05:00

Never abandon something that makes you happy. For what that advice may be worth.

But it'll only be a few days, right? Ten at the most.

I may very well end up quitting unintentionally.

A nap sounds good right about now.

2003-01-29T11:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I got a phone call this morning. From who, you ask? My good ol' buddy at the Health Center, Dr. Chapman. You know what Dr. Chapman says to me? He says that, apparently, my throat culture came up positive for bacteria after all. So, essentially, I do have strep and now I have to go BACK to the Health Center to get MORE medication. I'm mildly pissed off that they couldn't have worked this all out yesterday, but I guess it'll be okay as long as I get healthy. It's just frustrating cuz it's really fucking cold out and the last thing I wanna do when I'm not feeling well is hike around a snowy college campus, getting battered around by freezing winds and shit like that. BLAH.

Anyways, I better go get ready for class and what-not. Talk to you later. Bye.

2003-01-29T01:52:00.000-05:00

So it's just a cold. I feel like shit, I bitch, I start freaking out......and it's nothing more dangerous than a common fucking cold.

In the Land of the Neurotics, I think I'm King. Somebody else tell me if I'm right.

I can be so pathetic sometimes as to be laughable. It honestly is humorous to me just how pathetic I can be.

But I did learn something today: I'm about 5' 6" and weigh approximately 150 pounds. 150 pounds?! No wonder the Howards all thought I looked healthier; I've never weighed more than 120 in my entire life! I have gained a full thirty pounds since going to school. I managed to get double the Freshman Fifteen in one semester. That is so fucking cool. Life is great.

Other than that, not a lot is going on. I'm just kinda hanging out, waiting for something cool to happen. Finished "De Profundis". So good.....I have so much thinking sometimes I can't even understand it all. In a good way.

Something cool, happen already. I'm waiting.

2003-01-28T02:07:00.000-05:00

So I'm having trouble sleeping, as you all know if you've been reading, and I kind of assumed it was just stress. But over the past few days, I've also acquired a sore throat, a hacking cough, extreme chills, extreme hot flashes, a low-grade fever, congestion, and a slight headache. And one or two other symptoms.

So, you ask, what can all this mean? Ian has officially decided that tomorrow (well, technically later tonight) is going to be "Go to the Health Center and Find Out if You've Got Strep Day" in Bowling Green. Cuz Jess had strep a few days ago, which means I probably picked it up from being around her and/or Joe. Or something.

I don't know. I definitely feel like shit, and it wouldn't surprise me if I turned out to really be ill. I always get sick in winter anyway, and when you factor in the fact that I've been going crazy, as well as the presence of an afflicted person..........it makes sense.

I hate being sick. Especially this kind of sick, where it's just enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to be a real problem. If I'm gonna be sick, then I should damn well be delirious with fever and capable of doing nothing but sleep all day. Not this kind of wyngy penny-ante shit.

I really want to read, and do stuff, and accomplish everything on my various (and completely metaphorical) lists. If it wasn't for the fact that I can't sleep and I'm bored, I wouldn't be online. But this is about the only thing I can tolerate doing (though not for long sittings), and I have some kind of urgent need to post because I may very well be out of commission for a few days if it ends up that I am, indeed, ill.

Anybody else instinctively become afraid that they might die or go insane or suffer some mammoth change in lifestyle if they contract even the most basic of communicable diseases? Cuz I sure do. I'm always afraid it's like, scarlet fever or something. And I would have a big problem if I was Hellen Keller with a vocabulary for the rest of my life. Makes film a lot less enjoyable, I should think. And music? I would have to kill myself. There is no life for me without Art.

You may even be able to tell that I've been reading "De Profundis" again. It's about time, considering what's happening in my little enclave. The cramped press of this unbearable human machinery, boiling over onto my scarred and shriveled psyche. I did alright today, though. I got to Geology and did a lab. It felt good to go to that class cuz I really wanted to skip. But I'm fucking responsible now, y'know? Or trying.

Whatever happens, happens. I'm really making an effort to eliminate all those terrible things from my life, but I know I'm still running. "Tramps like us/Baby we were born to run........" Oh well. So I hide a little. So I run occasionally. So I hate confrontations that might mean something. So what? I'm doing the best I can and if you don't like it, that's okay. Feel free to talk with me and we'll work it out. But I want you to know that my motivations right now are pure. I'm following the Figure.

Okay, Joe hooked me up with some Nyquil tablets so I'm hoping I can go conk out for the night. Then I'll go to the center. Promise.

I love you all, sweethearts. Take care of yourself.

P.S. I'll tell you guys if I have a specific problem with you. Don't decide, out of the blue, that I'm talking to you. If, however, you do feel that you might be the target of one of my rants, ask me. I will be more than happy to clear up any misunderstandings. Thanx guys.

2003-01-27T19:00:00.000-05:00

Wow. I intended on posting some entry full of what was bothering me, but I just had a thought: This feels like summertime to me.

So I'm pissed off and want to run away. But I'm holding my ground this time. Say what you like to me; I'll take it gladly. I don't care. I'm sick of hiding.

I still can't sleep, but maybe tonight will be better.

I guess we'll see. Thanx for listening.

P.S. "De Profundis" again.

2003-01-26T21:59:00.000-05:00

"If there's one thing I hate, it's people."

2003-01-26T21:58:00.000-05:00

I think Ned is a big fat liar.

Burn it down around you.

Fuck. Death or glory after all.

2003-01-26T19:58:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'll admit, I was wrong. I can see where people would like this play, but it's never going to be one of my favourites. Oh well. Good to revel in it, even if parts of it are a little.......uncomfortable.

Shut up, you wyngy little bitch. Quit acting like a tool and do something if you're so all fired up about it. But you never will, because in your tiny mind you're some kind of martyr. That facade is not fooling anybody, prick. Martyrs give their lives for their cause because they believe it's right. You, on the other hand, just use your fucking bullshit as an icebreaker, a social con to get people to respect you. You don't deserve respect, you asshole. You never did and, until you get your shit together and actually start taking stands and helping people, you never will. Fuck off.

I'm going back to my audio analysis.

2003-01-25T07:08:00.000-05:00

I did it. I finally broke down and fucking did it. Maybe now I can get a decent night's sleep.

Let's just hope that I didn't fuck up the world on this one.

Please let me have been wrong. Please.

2003-01-25T04:00:00.000-05:00

Never make the mistake of assuming that I do not know who I am. Furthermore, never make the mistake of assuming that I don't know who you are.

Does anybody have the old "Lakewood Times" article about me? Cuz I need it stat, but I can't find it on the internet.

This is so much like when I started listening to Jimmy Eat World. The car rides, the night, the frost.......fuck, there's a whole song about how I was during that time. The times no one else saw.......maybe nobody even knew......how am I not dead?

I wish it was summer so I could make a tape for myself.

Fuck this shit.

Anyways, here's the song I mentioned a few lines back.

"On the way home,
this car hears my confessions.
I think tonight I'll take the long way.
This weather.
The wind outside is biting.
It has left me feeling tired & exposed.
You've been asking me to bleed.
It seems these kinds of questions
come too easy to you now.
Your lack of shame comes naturally.
I should not be surprised.
I should have seen it sooner.

You expect me to apologize
for things that you've done wrong.
While you're inciting others.
You're owning up to nothing
and I wish that I was gone,
because you're not going anywhere.

This damp air
is fighting my defroster.
My sighs they ring victorious
& fog this tinted glass.
It's clouded
& so is my head.
The hint of these new tears are sharp.
I try to hold them back.
It's useless.
I am useless against them.
They are beating me with ease.

On the way home
this car hears my confessions.
I think tonight I'll take the long way."
-Dashboard Confessional, "The Sharp Hint of New Tears"

So now you know. Consider this to be the moment where the emotionally disturbed teen villain reveals a dark secret from within his psyche, allowing the audience a brief moment of sympathy and insight. It's like "Heathers", only without all the killing and stuff. Maybe more like "Pump Up the Volume".

I know what you're thinking: Why is Ian wasting these most vital moments of my life with the trivialities of which old-skool Christian Slater teen-angst character he empathizes most with? Answer: I'm offering a seemingly unimportant, yet crucial, insight into my "inner self". So be grateful and deal.

Now go back and read this whole entry in your most sardonic of tones.

I love you all.

2003-01-24T01:27:00.000-05:00

So I finally pulled my internet-ness back together, which is great. And the other day I purchased some CDs: Bowie's newest, which I haven't gotten around to listening to just yet, and Dashboard Confessional's unplugged ablum, which is pretty much fuckin' great. So I have been really busy with listening to that, with a bit of other stuff thrown in. Mostly the playing of video games, I admit, but at least it keeps me sane.

I keep puzzling over Ned's advice. It seems so simple and so practical. And yet.......Blah. Why bother to ponder questions you can't resolve, little Ian?

--"You used to be a genius!"
--"No I didn't."
-"Well anyway, that's what they said......"

It's funny, in a way. I only really post about two things: my belief that I'm getting better, and my statements to the contrary. I'd say that overall I'm a lot better, but not enough as to be sane. And if I'm still not sane, then what the fuck do I have to do to get there?

Trepa-fucking-nation, baby.

2003-01-20T01:40:00.000-05:00

Okay, okay. One more quiz, but only cuz I think it's particularly humorous if you know me at all. Thanx to Amy for the link...........

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

2003-01-20T00:43:00.000-05:00

Well, it's almost 12:30 in the morning. I go back to the Fizel tomorrow. Nobody is online to talk to right now, so you know what that means.........QUIZ TIME!

Which HP Kid Are You?

find your element
at mutedfaith.com.
<º>

Take the What High School
Stereotype Are You? quiz, by Angel.

Take the What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be? Quiz

what kitchen utensil are YOU?

Very interesting. To me at least. Some stay the same, others change.....some of these I don't remember doing before. Who knows? Anyways, I'm not really feeling the need to post much else, so I guess I'll let you guys have your precious lives back a few moments early. No quotes today, I'm afraid. Take care.

P.S. I think the Club Flamingo/Sadie Hawkins Dance episode might even be better than the first episode. It's kinda sad, though. But hey, I'm crazy for that kind of shit.

2003-01-19T03:23:00.000-05:00

Wow, Ned. I don't think I've had a conversation that's made me so happy and so upset at the same time.

Here's a blast from the not-too-distant past for all you aficionados of the Nigel School of Rock: "Did we ever have an understanding/Did we ever have anything at all?/Not that I recall......."

"I got a disease
Deep inside me
Makes me feel uneasy
Baby I can't live without you
Tell me what am I supposed to do about it?
Keep your distance from me
Don't pay no attention to me
I got a disease......"

You're right. Of course you're right. But wherever there's an option of either the right choice and any other possible choice, I am destined by nature to choose the latter. Self-crucifixion, baby. It's the only way I can survive.

"You call me crazy baby
But I bet you'll get there before me
It happens all the time
I know you're gonna turn on me......"

"I'll wait until tomorrow
Maybe you'll be better then
Maybe we'll be better then
So what's another day
When I can't bear these nights of thoughts of going on without you?
This mood of yours is temporary
It seems worth the wait to see you smile again
Out of the corner of your eye
Won't be the only way you're looking at me then......

Please tell me you're just feeling tired
Cuz if it's more than that
I fear that I might break
Out of touch
Are we out of time?"

I didn't bring any musick with me to Middletown, so if these few quotes I offer are inaccurate, please just grin and bear it. I'm doing my best to recite them by memory since I'm much too lazy to look them up online.

You're absolutely right, you know. Unfortunately, the right choice involves a certain kind of destruction. To hurt a person to save myself goes against everything I believe in. But by making the wrong choice I am allowing an unknown, but potentially vast, amount of harm into my own life. Should I even bother to care about that, though? It's me we're talking about here. A wunderkind of wynging, the Duke of Despair.......

"This is where I say I've had enough
No one should ever
Feel the way that I feel now
A walking open wound
A trophy display of bruises
And I don't believe that I'm getting any better......"

That's another Dashboard tune. For those who care. Which is, of course, nobody.

Like I said, the nights are hard. Sometimes I get by without too many problems, and other nights I just throw myself down and hope that when I close my eyes I lapse into dreamless slumber. It's a vision thing.

"Jesus died/For somebody's sins/But not mine/My sins are all my own/They belong to me........."

Guess I'm off to throw myself down on the couch and hope for a better tomorrow. Thanks for listening, even if you don't care. Goodnight.

Known Some Call Is Air Am.

I'm a shy, sensitive punk rocker, the most artistic of them all. I'm Kurt Cobain! Click here to find out which Nirvana grunge rocker you are!

I'm a shy, sensitive punk rocker, the most artistic of them all. I'm Kurt Cobain!
Click here to find out which Nirvana grunge rocker you are!