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I will daylog a little differently this time since its currently September 17 where I am I will write what I think my September 18 will be like. Tomorrow I will edit It and write what actually happened. Then I will compare them and revel in my epic future seeing skill! OK, I wake up at noon, stumble out of bed and microwave some of last nights meatloaf for lunch. Then I will grab my Epiphone Les Paul 100 heritage series cherry sunburst and practice for around an hour. When i finish that I will go on E2 and write about it. Then I sleep.

I don't have future seeing ability. I woke up at 12:30, and had a toasted bagel for breakfast. Right now I am doing homework while noding about it. I haven't practiced my guitar yet but I will. Right now Im using E2 to look up political scandals as part of my homework.
I finished my homework and after that went outide to pick up the sticks and acorns that had been knocked down due to an immense downpour of rain last night. After that I practiced my guitar. Then I went on youtube and I am pissed off because I can't find a version of Bob Dylan's "one more cup of coffee" that Isn't live or a cover.

There's something about writing that feels like looking in a mirror. I say this because of the length of time that I have spent not writing. I'm not sure why I ever stopped when it is my sanity, my friend. When nobody seems to understand my thoughts or when I'm too embarrassed to even explain them, the paper swallows up my every word and then staples its lips together.

Reading the paper afterwards is one way of looking at myself, a curious self-analysis. This is especially true on Everything2 when I need to really stop and think about what I'm saying and how I'm saying it. You'll never know the number of scratchpads that I've had to delete upon realizing they were defensive, negative, full of self-pity and self-degradation. I don't want people seeing that, and nobody wants to look at it. What the hell was I doing all of these years, sitting paralyzed with a pen in hand, sitting at a desk with blank lined paper staring back at me? Why did I start so many private online blogs, only to abandon them after a couple of entries, forgetting the password, deciding that it didn't matter? I was doing myself a disservice. Now that I have started to write again (however rusty my skills may be), I feel as though I have bought a full-length mirror for the first time in years and am now looking into it with horror, seeing that my eyebrows have grown together and I'm wearing clothes that don't fit. Other people may overlook those things but I sure as hell can't.

The reflection never lies, so long as the mirror is true. The truth can also really hurt, but it is also healing, and all of that crap. I'm growing tired of myself and the melodramatic bullshit that pours itself through my fingertips. It's not easy to admit that life isn't going your way, and even if what you want seems unrealistic and impossible, you still want it anyway. And there's a child inside that wants to be held and just curl up into a ball sometimes because all of its favourite toys have been taken away and it doesn't understand why. It's very sad and everything, but maybe that kid would be happier if she yells and screams and beats the shit out of whatever asshole took away her fun (violence as a last resort, of course). Maybe it's not so unrealistic and impossible to get what you want after all. Tired and defeated from climbing over so many walls that are in the way, you look over and see a pathway and a door that leads you closer to your dream without working yourself so hard and you feel a bit stupid, but relieved, very relieved.

It's 1:39am and my cat is stretched out on top of the mattress leaning against the wall. We're getting rid of the old mattress but we haven't decided exactly where to put it yet, so it's taking up space and providing the cats with a temporary toy. They love to be up high, probably so they can look down upon us. Cats are so different from dogs. The computer is making a humming noise, the clacking of keyboard keys being pressed in rapid succession helping to fill the quiet. It's dark outside; I can't see the moon from here. It occurs to me at this moment that my night-time dreams came back to me not that long after I began writing again. I believe there is a connection, and I don't care to question it in the way that I normally would. Everything happens for a reason.

Recently I bought an add-on memory card for my mp3 player, upping the storage from 8 Gig to 24 Gig. I then buckled down and spent a weekend ripping the bulk of my CD collection to mp3 to load it up. I'd only had about 30 favorite discs and a bunch of singles from Napster (10 years ago) as mp3s. I rediscovered many good songs that were out of sight, out of mind, as it were. Many cuts that I'd forgotten were outtasight. A fair number of clunkers, too. Along the way I altered the folder structure, which rendered my main-faves playlist useless. I mostly use the mp3 player when driving, using a cassette adapter, or when riding my mountain bike. I like the random-play mode and a few times since have set it play randomly from the entire new collection instead of from a genre or artist folder. This leads to some odd sequences - The Eurythmics followed by a Chopin barcarolle, then a David Benoit track then Gang of Four, for instance. Probably too jarring for others but it's all stuff I like so it's OK.

I have a number of 'environments' discs with things like woodland sounds, seashore sounds, rainstorms, and the like. Used judiciously and at low volumes they can be great backgrounds for working or reading or falling asleep. I've had a few of them ripped to mp3 for a while now and they're great when I'm working at the computer, though I don't play them that often. They aid focus, somehow, imparting a snug, drawn-in feeling. I've had quite a few times where I've forgotten that it wasn't actually raining outside, but I've never actually thought there was a pack of howling wolves down the street. I put them all in a folder on the mp3 player for the heck of it.

The other night I was driving home and the player happened upon a half-hour track of rain and thunder. I moved my hand to switch tracks but decided to adjust the volume lower and see (hear?) what driving to the rain and thunder track was like. It was pretty cool! The rain sounds blended with the wind and road noise that's normal with the sound system off, masking the annoying rhythms or adding to them in the right way. The remaining twenty minutes of my drive passed in a flash as I drifted in a light reverie, the flow of my thoughts 'pure' in a way that can't happen with the associations that are inevitably triggered by lyrics and melodies. I only realized this as I pulled off the freeway, the road noise abating and the rainstorm recording coming back to the fore.

The track wasn't done when I shut the player off, so it started when I got in the truck the next morning and fired the player up. I let it go for a couple of minutes but in the harsh light of day the effect wasn't nearly the same. I don't think they'd work with earbud headphones either. While I don't have any road-trips scheduled, I will definitely try playing the various environments when driving at night from time to time. If I remember to break away from the chaotic mish-mash.

Today is my brother's 40th… possibly 36th birthday. No, definitely 36… wait, 38… he was born in 1972, 1,972 less 2,010 is 38. Today was my eldest brother's 38th birthday. I sent him a text message. I have not seen a reply, and don't much care whether I receive one or not. We are not close.

In December of last year my other brother's wife gave birth to twins. On that day I sent him a text message. I have not communicated directly with him since. I will likely see my nieces on Thanksgiving. I'm not excited to see them, because I know that in fifteen years I won't like them. Needless to say, my brother and I are not close.

Today I watched the entirety of the third season of The Boondocks. Then I played guitar for a while, then I listened to a few records, and drank expensive vodka and cheap wine. I am not all that close with myself either.

Sound: Eels -- Meet the Eels: Essential Eels, Volume 1: 1996-2006

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