Hardly Party

Instead of seeing a neighbor out  
God, I wish I would've found a way out
It's the last time
We were happy
Ever happy

I know I was a scout
I should've found a way out
So everyone could find a way out

Hello, it looks as if my ship's sinking again. O' what a predisposition to this I have! And on top of that I've got a tickle in my throat. And! And it's getting cold and wintry outside. Rather than coming here with a purpose,  I've got a few things on my mind I've come here to not write about .

I'm not trying hard enough to quit trying.

I can't get her off of my chest unless I'm sleeping on my side

So for starters I don’t give a fuck. I don’t mean that as an absolute statement. I do care, promise. My cares right now are just extremely narrow and self-important. Admittedly where I find myself is sad. Now to espouse on the title. I hear of opportunities to bring everyone I know together in celebration of us, them and myself, and I wonder why. I don't care. I don't care to celebrate myself. I don't care to celebrate, that inebriation is no more celebration than a reminder to forget what I've got going on in my life. I miss friends. I miss love. But these attempts at creating those things where they aren’t isn’t working. I don't give a fuck about partying right now. I'm going to do it as everyone else is weening off of it, but I am not going to put much effort into trying. The only things that I gravitate to right now are vices and finding a girlfriend. The vices make me numb, take me away from all the shit. It's only a little escape. A cigarette makes my head light. The drink makes me smile as if I'm less concerned. In regard to the girlfriend, Jane Doe is an absence. So, dearest females, please smother me with love and affection.

I’d arrest you if I had handcuffs
I’d arrest you if I had the time
I’d wait for you outside the courtroom
and taunt you when all your appeals were declined

I'll type about the two cats I live with: Selphie and Saris. These cats belong to my friend, room mate, and landlord. I have the same problem with these pets as I do any--they aren't human. They're both pushy. They don't understand that when I toss them off my lap, or out of my bed, that I do not want them to climb right back up. I'm a grouch to them 85% of the time. But right now I'm accommodating Selphie by reaching over her while I type, letting her sit on my lap. Selphie is the older of the two cats, she's no longer as frisky as she used to be, more a stuck up bitch these days. She always did her own thing but now she seems to enjoy herself less. I'm trying to learn something from these cats despite their inability to speak English. Saris is constantly batting things with her paws--that is her life. These cats will crawl on you and get thrown off time and time again, eventually they'll realize it's not happening and without fail they'll move onto the next person and try exactly the same thing. I've got other things going on for me other than these cats that keep me company but they’re very important to mention.

Here are some updates pertaining to my real life: I'm seasick and green with envy. Actually, I lied, I'm landlocked and still the same peach-pink fleshy color as usual. I have experienced huge mood swings and find myself walking off alone to stare at nothing, I am working a lot and might be changed from a dish washer into a server. I have moved out with friends. Those things are changes that most people I talk to regularly are well aware of. The biggest change of all being that I live away from my family. These are things that I have changed within this past month. I also intend to write RTD a complaint letter and ask a favor of them, if I do so I’ll post the letter here for everyone to read!

I've got a memory but I can't hear what you're saying
You're looking straight at me but I'm looking the other way

I made another observation of how life in the workplace is like playing house. Playing their game (house) ex. 2: giving into the chain of command; I could very well disregard the management and not get fired. I'm becoming a server; so and so got fired from her hostess position, somebody became her, and that somebodies role got filled by someone else, and so it is there is now an opening for a new life, and that new life just needs my identity.

Their voices were one in the same of a young, dumb girl having a conversation with herself. And even if I wasn't ready for another day I'm kind of fucked at this point.

I now say happy holidays because I don't know the meaning of the traditions I practice, I just enjoy the ritual at this point.

I make a point to not use people's names here, I’m protecting their identities more or less.

I could never have
Standing here with you
One regret
One mistake
Nothing we could do
After this is done
You can go your way
Don't forget
This is how
Everything should be
Don't you ever go

Throughout this whole thing was random lyrics from various songs I consider a little Novembre playlist. Feel free to make the playlist for yourself, there's no intended order for the songs or anything. They're just songs that've been stuck in my head throughout the month. And here’s a FOTC video too! This blog has lots of random stuff that I couldn’t find a true home for.


the whale song-modest mouse
drowning the old hag-fear before
handcuffs-brand new
paper bag-dear and the headlights
sick on sunday-dillinger escape plan
nude-radiohead (optional)

Summation: I'm forced to drown my nausea beneath the surface, but still it breathes and bubbles up, haunting me through all the songs and movies I've memorized. Yes, I'm even depressed at times. This is just how I am right now and most anything anyone will say to me isn't going to change that. I don't want friends trying to be my therapist. Just keep me company. Sinking strains on my public face, it's tiresome feigning a happier disposition. If I'm pacing or walking off to stare into nothing, just let me be. I'm sure there's something deep-seeded to this, but I can only account for what I know saddens me. I'm lovesick and I dislike working so much. I feel bothered, yet I still desire the love of some bird. Work people are monumentally nice but work is still work. Just do this for me as I’d do it for you—let me be.

Existentialist Humph!

It seemed that he had no theory with which to explain a moment like this... nor did I. Our only response was to keep on going and 'fuck everything'. pile misery upon misery, heap it up on a spoon and dissolve it with a drop of bile, then squirt it into a stinking, puerile vein and do it all over again. Keep on going, getting up, going out, robbing, stealing, fucking people over. Propelling ourselves with longing towards the day that it would all go wrong, because no matter how much you stash, or how much you steal you never have enough. No matter how often you go out and rob and fuck people over, you always need to get up and do it all over again. -Trainspotting

I'm really bad about taking notes on ideas I want to write down then being overwhelmed with the amount of elaboration and organizing I stick myself with. That's what I did with this month's blog, so what I'm doing now is typing off the top of my head, then I'll try and insert the little notes I wrote along the way.

Guilt is my number one motivator in life right now. It wakes me up. It gets the dishes done. It keeps me... So I cried repeatedly throughout the second half of my shift at work today. I don't think anyone noticed. I do things like this. What I had been taking pride in my life recently was my disinterest, then I fell for this girl for the million billionth time, then her sex life depressed me. I was upset that I was upset, after all I was in such a good place contented and alone. Avoiding problems was as simple as foreseeing them and walking away. As if, say, that person opposite me is an emotional burden, to avoid it was as easy as changing my course. I pulled myself out of the little rut I fell into. Within that time I even met a new girl. This all goes along with the girlfriend itch I've had, but I'll talk more on that a little later. Ok, so (1)I got over my little sadness and (2)met someone great, that's double good; existential angst avoided. This new girl was wonderful, tried to hang out with me all the time, has similar interests, and similar personality. Wonderful, things are going even better than before. I successfully avoided fake problems, luxury problems; no bitching about stupid shit that really isn't worth my time. My needs are met, no need to create problems out of nothing. What I'm avoiding is drama, the weight of it, often it's worth feeling, but right now it's not at all what I need to be focusing on. Disinterest maintenance should take priority. Now, this girl I'm really into does not want a relationship. This crushed me a lot more than I expected (see first sentence of this paragraph), I let her in too soon. I take these problems deeper than they belong, these problems bring about the faults in my job. I do not like my job, but on goodly absentminded days I don't mind it. But, all of the sudden what I'm doing has no meaning, I'd do better to walk off the job—this is how I feel. What I am doing didn't have meaning to begin with, no more meaning than the pay check and the few friendships I'm finding. I do not need to be an existentialist, life is a burden, I know, bearing that in mind will do me no good these days. There is literally no benefit to crippling myself in reveries. My reveries won't lead me anywhere I want to be. Yes, I'm writing now, I do want to write and think my life through, but I don't want to sit down and consider the weight of the world. There is a difference between this and the days I'm thinking everything should end.

So, I've had the girlfriend itch. Still do. Thought I almost had that trouble squared away, but no more, I guess not. I mostly want a girlfriend so I can feel safe to share sweetness with somebody. I'd like to put a stop to all the stupid over analysis, reading into signs and body language shit I constantly find myself doing. I don't like it, it gets old. I don't want the desperation. I don't want to have to reject and be rejected. I fucking obsess over strangers, I need to do something more productive with my attention. If it was an option to pay no mind, I'd choose that. En garde! So with this one that I thought might be mine: she made me feel amazing, she felt like a friend first which I love and I think I need; a girl that can be a friend first. It's not a terrible tragedy that she doesn't want a relationship, it's good, we should build our friendship, but I would prefer to do that with the notion that we're a couple. Oh well. She made me feel like I could completely open up, then I did, then she was gone. They're all gone. I am alone. I want to fight off jealousy and all those territorial inclinations. This is a fake problem. My life is composed of fake problems. I sincerely wish it would just stop sometimes, it's not worth it.

This is the existential angst in me I'd like to avoid.

I need to remember the sweet relief of friendships. I should not give in to false dependencies so quickly. I need to rely on what's worked until the new things have proven their worth. I'm stupid. What I say never goes. I'm a hypocrite. I've got to stay a hopeful romantic. I have to stop talking. All this what I need to do, what I should do stuff is getting ridiculous. I've got to remember that there's disinterest to maintain. I would like to delete this and start all over. I always want to delete everything and start all over. Too much of a scatterbrain it seems, should organize and revise.

Mine's been a vivid story, dimly remembered
and by the hundredth time it's told, halfway true
of bad behavior well engendered
what good is each good thing we think we do?
-The Sun & The Moon, mwY

This is turning out to be a cut-up of a blog. We're all thieves. I will never tell anyone the whole truth. I can't. I will explain one hypocrisy of mine: my friend was dating this girl that just pushed me away first, he didn't care so it doesn't matter, but it's a hypocrisy nonetheless. Actually, I think a second example of how I'm a hypocrite is in order: I repeatedly realize how some things are not worth it, cigarettes for instance, and I say I'm going to stop, I should stop, but I don't. How many reminders do I need to realize that something isn't worth it? That's what I'm trying to do here, with this inclination to sadness I have. I don't need this. I should continue the chase without the sadness. I need to relax. I need to not stare at my phone hoping to hear from her. These feelings are going to come and go always. I am going to feel this shit whether or not I want to, so I might as well make it easier on myself. This is about emotional intelligence. I am going to continue to distract myself, maintain my apathy. This is only in regard to these things that would otherwise hurt me, this is temporary, I'm advocating apathy here to help better myself. Here's to: relaxing, not waiting, and making no declarations; the good times are killing me. Just smile and walk on by, never mind all the comedy and tragedy.

That is all I wanted to write about this month. I might change this to bi-monthly, we'll see. And I was so happy to have avoided moroseness. The vices, hope, and cyclical emotions grow old and tired. I'm redundant. Time to sleep so I can do this all over again tomorrow, pray the dark lord my soul to lose. Excuse the various errors all over this blog...idc

We're playing house. Shut up.

"Oh, hey. How are you?"
"Good. You?
"Good." Conversation over.
Man, that small talk gets old. It's not that I don't want to schmooze everyone I'd just like a better medium, that's all. I am trying to eliminate that prerequisite ice breaker. A lot of it is that it just seems like people are bouncing that question around for reassurance. Like, "I want to hear that you're well, tell me you're well so I can get on with my day." A lot of the time even if I'm not bad I just don't care to answer that question. Some people are genuinely curious to know but a lot of the time it's just difficult to give a superficial negative answer and keep it short. There isn't enough sit down time for me to pour my heart out to randoms, and more often than not people don't want to hear that—no one benefits. I might even be interested in how others are doing but I figure I'll gather that from body language and conversational cues. Other pleasantries are acceptable too, I'm ok with the residents at the retirement community talking about the weather; I understand that becomes a greater concern later in life. This is only a minor grievance that I'm gaining a lot of headway in lately. I'm just so often disinterested in the well-being question. Moving on.
Good news: I'm not depressed. Far from it actually! Though I imagine I'm still something of a depressive. I'm just blank. I'm busy. I like it. I think I'm coming out of a phase of taciturnity—I needed an excuse to use that word. I'm not paralyzed by some silence, however I'm still normally quiet. Now my silence is more of a disinterest, a lack of something worth saying. Who needs filler conversation? Not me, not all the time.
On the way to work, be it in the bus or my mother's car, often I am still sleepy. In these sleepy states I daydream getting fired upon arrival, it seems like such a satisfying option in my head. I wish for termination in lieu of a day's work. But in all reality it'd sadden me a lot, it's just weird how surreal work and life in general are to me. I still think everything's inconsequential, which isn't wholly true. All the consequence is mine, and in some other reality I might not have anyone to fall back on.
Onto the epiphany I had which might lack profundity. Anyway, at work sometime this past month I just thought of everybody in their adult life as playing house, like this! "Well, you can't be that person because person A is being that person, you have to be this person right now." In the workplace I can't be a host, because there is already a host, I have to be a dishwasher because they need dishes washed. In the workplace I'm fine with this and completely understand, though I would like to know how to be everybody. And yes, eventually I want to have a different job. In life, despite the practicality of filling the roles needed, I don't like it. I want to be free to roam. (Is that selfish?) I'm not really free as it is anyway, so I might as well've got the upper hand when I had the chance, chased the dreams with the most reward. I'm getting off topic. I just like to think of everybody as abstractions. Someone identifies them self as a thug, so they act in such a way to fill the role, not really being them self, whoever that may be—a cook. I'm all for leading multiple lives, maybe people are as hard as they say they are, but more likely than not it's a farce—a mockery. Or maybe even people act out a role to fulfill certain expectations they think others have of them, expectations they themselves project subconsciously. I'm always thinking of life as if it's a game or something; never real. I have no idea why I do this, at least no complete understanding. It probably has something to do with my escapist mindset. I'm a flighty one.
I'm excited that I've managed to get back into going to shows—about twice a month now. Still on music: I'm primarily excited about two upcoming releases. First and foremost Circa Survive's new album, which has a lot of titles that didn't make the cut, but no release date or final title. I'm hoping it comes out sometime before this year is up. They're halfway through guitar tracking now so I think that's a realistic expectation. (I know this because Twitter.com knows this, not because I have inside information.) Oh yeah, and guitar tracking is the last stage of tracking, they did drums first, then bass, then vocals, now guitar. The other release I look forward to is Converge's "Axe to Fall" the two songs they've released sound pretty awesome, both have corny lyrics. I'm sure it'll be good, they're pretty consistent. Otherwise I've been listening to "Deflorate" a lot, got to love nerd metal. Also a lot of Terror and The Postal Service, those are kind of random throwbacks.
Ok speaking of Terror, Converge, and The Black Dahlia Murder does anybody want to hear about my second tattoo idea, and the new addition I am considering?! I'm going to assume the answer to that question is no. Otherwise, talk to me. Below is the most recent studio update from Circa Survive, it's mostly just Anthony being all acoustic-y, but I recommend checking out their other updates. Godspeed!

Balaenoptera musculus

I wish I could indent my paragraphs. Oh well, hey! So this will serve as a sort of introduction to the blog you're—presumably—reading. Though explaining my purpose somewhat opposes the lifestyle I've been trying to lead, which is this: my purpose should manifest through action, not my words. No big deal, I'll forgive myself.

Right now I'm listening through "Veckatimest" by Grizzly Bear. I forgot who recommended and sent this album to me, it's kind of folksy.

This blog is the product of my reset button obsession. I constantly want to start all over, I'll blame all the video games I used to play. It's also a continued practice in writing (typing) for me. I'll try to post monthly updates on the life and times of me, however boring. I'll post sundry creative bits here as well. Lately I've had issues with self-monitoring; I want everyone to know everything about me but I'm coming to realize the conflicts and issues inherent in sharing absolutely everything. So I can't be a completely open book all the time. Hopefully with the use of euphemisms and lies we'll all reach a good compromise of how much the general public can tolerate me. Mostly I just want to have an extensive forum filled with distractions, and all the insipid shit I care about. That about covers what I'm trying to do here.

Holy shinfo! An explanation of what I mean by the title and URL.

I'll start with the title, blue whales are greater than white whales. Literally, blue whales are larger than white whales. A White Whale is also an idiom for something obsessively pursued but never caught. This idiom is a reference to the novel "Moby-Dick, or the Whale" by Herman Mellville, which I happen to be reading right now. In the book Captain Ahab is out to get the sperm whale, Moby-Dick, who got his leg. My Great White Whale usually comes in the form of a Jane Doe. Yet another expression, Jane Doe is a companion that doesn't exist, she's intangible, a dream girl, nevertheless I've desperately pursued her. Hopefully you get the idea. Ok, now back to the blue whales. The blue whale is the largest animal known to have ever existed, they are also closer to extinction than sperm whales. It's actually all a lot of shinfo I use to bolster my prejudice. I just like blue whales. Also there's a connotation I get from each of their colors. Since Melville explained the color white so in-depth in his novel I'll only cover blue. Blue, to me, is a sad and soulful color (see The Blues). The blue whale keeps the mystique of whales, but evokes no association to compulsions and monomania.


Serene. See?

Now onto my URL, blue whale fishing. Baring what else I've said in mind it's pretty simple. I'm fishing for the biggest fish (whale) in the sea, knowing well I won't catch it. For starters I'm not even whaling, I'm fishing. Fishing is much more relaxed. I mean to convey an image you'd see in a Norman Rockwell painting. Like the one I included! Except I prefer the one titled "Man on Dock Fishing" but I couldn't use that one without wasting someone else's bandwidth, or violating some copyright issue. Sitting on the edge of a dock, just watching the water. There is more to this implicit idea, but I'll leave the rest unsaid. It's a simple paradigm I like to project myself into; one of the two views I often ascribe to my life. Despite all this talk, I'd like to clarify that I'm actually not too keen on fishing these days.

This has been fun. It reminds me of old MySpace blogs I used to post. I stole the introductory idea from this blog, kudos to that unknowing acquaintance of mine.