Today i was combed down and cleaned up and i looked like the greyscale version of me except for my hands and face which were unusually rosey; from bottom to top i ran black, grey, grey, black, silver, black, face, black. Someone has turned down my contrast, apparently. I might have had something to do with it… staying up until 6am to re-read Hi Fidelity (as if that last monster-post could’ve been inspired by anything other than the first chapter) and folding up clothes so i could stay hidden within my air-conditioned room rather than the threatening humid mess of my living room. But, here i am, back in the humidity and mess and trying to seriously commit to packing something tonight … i’m not sure what or where i’ll put it, but it’ll get packed. But, anyhow, i don’t think i’ll miss this apartment much… it was never comfortable enough to be homey, even if it represented the reality of home. Check back with me on September2nd to see if i have anything to add to that.
There is a certain something about bedroom floors and boomboxes that makes me sleepy.
I am desperately trying to get everything clean in preparation for the apartment switching extravaganza that i’m hurtling towards in a matter of weeks. This includes doing laundry, doing dishes, throwing out food i don’t intend to eat, ordering my cds, and cleaning out my hard drive. I think the latter is more of a metaphorical act; i spend the majority of my time on the computer, so having an orderly hard drive would somehow have an effect on the rest of my life.
I hardly ever download mp3s of artists and albums i don’t own, but i am occasionally given them by friends to listen to, which is pretty much the same as being handed a mix tape. As a results, i have something like 50 megabytes of random mp3s on my computer – not enough to warrant a housecleaning. However, i am somewhat of a packrat when it comes to tracking down live rare music by Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco, and between the two of them combined it turned out that i had exactly 1.5 gigabytes of digital music. So, yesterday’s project became: back it all up! Not only would that leave me with lots of room to finally mix the best-of disc for 25/24, but it would make all of my hundreds of Ani/Tori songs incredibly portable from one computer to the next, which isn’t such a bad thing. So, i popped in an extra-density cd-r, told my computer to test and then create (because backing up 700megs of Ani is a pretty serious endeavor), and i adjourned to my room so i wouldn’t be tempted to use the computer while it was burning the disc.
Into the boombox went Whatever and Ever Amen, onto the floor went my giant-size lounge-pillow and my sleeping bag, and i was out like a light before the end of “Brick.” The funny thing is, i had just woken up about 6 hours previous, but i still managed to squeeze in a full 12 hours of sleep … not waking up until just a half hour ago so that i could have clean clothes to wear to work.
So, for future reference, the best way to get me unconscious is to put on a cd with intricate guitar or piano for me to follow, hand me a pillow and a blanket, and leave me alone for twenty minutes. Works like a charm, as long as my guitar isn’t handy.
Well, i can deal with this because he’s a cute mouse. I’ve had two previous runins with the rodent… one late at night while Matt was here which resulted in me piling everything we own into the middle of the room and stalking around with a flip-flop in hand ready to lay out a smackdown, and the other during the first week i was dating Selina that resulted in my jogging to Selina’s place in record time and spending half the night on her dorm’s kitchen counter because i didn’t want my toes to touch the ground. This should teach me to always throw out old pizza boxes… even if they are empty and do not belong to me. Apparently they make nice houses. Also, i forget a mouse can get out of anything he can squeeze his head past, which made my entire scheme with the pizza box and the slipper and the bucket entirely pointless. Obviously i should go looking for flip-flops…
I do not like it when Matt brings houseguests with him. Matt is my roommate, but i’ll talk more about that in a minute. Back to houseguests. Granted, i have kissed approximately 6% of all houseguests who i’ve spent significant time with, but the other 94% smoke, drink, play my bass without asking, take my bread out of the freezer but do not put it back, eat my instant soup, watch horrible Woody Allen films, and dirty all of my dishes. In honor of that last bit, i now have my official Blog-A-Thon Spoon, because i really don’t intend to wash any of my other dishes at any point today and all of my blogathon food can be eaten with a spoon.
Last year Matt worked in a computer science lab with Joe, who lives directly above us now and is the boyfriend of Gina, who wrote “All That’s True.” So, that’s who Matt is. I didn’t really intend to live with Matt; I don’t think he’s the sort of person i would have ever lived with had it not come right down to the wire, but when things come down to the wire in life you occasionally make exceptions. It was July or August, and i was starting to panic about getting an apartment, and i logged into Shafted one day to see Matt asking if anyone had an apartment yet and we wound up looking around together and finding this one. The entire first week of Crushing Krisis is pretty much about me procrastinating about packing, almost missing putting down my deposit on the apartment because Matt was asleep, getting sick, packing while sick, and having to spend a week at home because i almost missed putting down the deposit on my apartment. But, anyhow, now we’re exactly a year beyond that frenzy of checking classifieds for apartments, and although Matt isn’t my favourite person in the world he’s certainly not the worst roommate in it either. So, anyway, one of these frenzied nights i wrote “Will It Ever Come,” and that was a backwards seugeway.
Some days i just feel as though i am slowly suffocating… tangled up in life and with each tiny attempt to get free i’m just getting more and more wrapped up. Tonight doing anything makes me vaguely sick with a kernel of potential violence … my broken guitar string urges me to thrash at the other five with my pick until they all relinquish their hold on the bridge. That was the start. Next came the absolutely desolation of my apartment… no food, nothing to do but use my computer and listen to music, the heat trickling into every pour to account for the sweat coming out. The only way i can describe this feel is trapped… i am all wound up with nowhere to go and this apartment is slowly suffocating me and the only thing i can think to do to keep my thoughts flowing and in order is write, because it’s the only thing that would make sense right now. Part of the problem is the mess… the apartment is a perpetual mess, because no matter how many times i try to clean it there aren’t enough places to put my things. Looking around just makes me feel more tangled, like every little spare piece of crap is exerting its own pull on me like all the tiny people and Gulliver. However, mostly two things are bothering me. The first is that i need a new g-string for my guitar, and my guitar strings are nowhere to be found. This is especially annoying because i was writing a new song that was rather intelligent sounding and i’d like to continue. The other is tonight… this empty messy apartment and me and all the thoughts i’ve got bottled up in my head. Empty, messy, and bottled up are all things i’d like to be different. But, anyway, i just had to type something to release some of all this pent up furious energy, and i apologize if it sounds like some awful teenage diary rant, but i just want tomorrow to get here. Now.
I was totally frantic and unfocused yesterday because i was running on 2 hours of sleep and a bag of corn chips that i ate early Sunday morning. Everything in my life keeps falling apart. First of all, i’m falling apart … i went back to the dentist yesterday to try to get my filling situation fixed and he only made it worse. Naive to the ungodly amounts of pain i was about to return myself to i absently-mindedly popped a piece of Trident into my mouth at Tower Records and wound up having to hide in the easy-chair in the periodicals section because i was in too much pain to coherently browse through the records. And, anyhow, i would never pay more than $16 for an album.
Everything is falling apart pieces at a time… Matt took a turn at locking himself out of the apartment today, so i loaned him my keys… except for i couldn’t remember where i put the spares after i got locked out last tuesday, so he had to keep my keys for the entire day. The apartment is a warzone … my physical possessions seem to multiply while i’m away to make more bric-a-brac crap for me to throw on the floor when i get back. Packing for my new apartment at the end of August should be entertaining… out of mine and into the (currently unconfirmed) new place in 12hours flat. Righhht.
I know this is banal, but i have things coming at me from too many directions right now to be able to do anything more than just report on them. And the counselor meeting just let out. Away i go!