Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Ahora hace nieve mucho!!

First real snowfall I have seen this season. The snowflakes are enormous, and everything seems pleasantly quiet. Gosh, how I've yearned for the snow. I love the nostalgia that comes with sitting in my window sill, playing guitar while watching the rooftops and asphalt turn from black to a glowing white. Things seems to come to a complacent hum when it snows for me. The traffic is hardly stirring. The body aches from my overexertion during rock climbing the other day is hardly a pain. The stress from finishing an enormous painting by tomorrow morning has dissipated. I want to finish this painting now, standing next to my window, listening to something like the Rachels. The grandeur of nature's beauty renders me incredibly grateful.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Aqui viene el invierno.

Lately I have been listening to only a select few bands, one of which is the spankin' new album by The Mercury Program, called Chez Viking, which is a beautiful album. Save for the first song, every song is absolutely amazing. Dudes ain't put out an album in over 5 years. The wait is worth it, no doubt. And lots of Ampere. And Born Against. That's bout it.

So last night I had been part of the Big 100 gallery here is Portland. It was a show with some big sponsorship and 100 artists. Each artist was given up to 20 free, donated canvases, each 8 x 8 inches. The evening was co-sponsored by one of the major Radio Stations, KBOO. A lot of fuckin people went. I got good and drunk. I then went to a sick house show party. Just after, I found that my room mate John Gee's car had been broken into and my book bag, along with his as well, were among the only things to have been lifted from the vehicle. That bag had my mole skin journal, my vinyl bag full of almost all my art pencils and pens, a Pendleton flannel (which was hand woven right here in Portland, Oregon), a can of Police grade mace, a Hardcore mop marker, pair of gloves, my favorite hat, a water bottle w/carabeener handle, and bottle of my medication (for my intestinal illness). Losing the journal definitely sucks. The other shit, for the most part, is somewhat dispensable. I've pretty much accepted the loss. I have no choice but to convince myself it ain't that big of a deal. Humph. Here some photos of the paintings I did for the show.

Last week I had another show for Portland's First Thursday art walk. I contributed 3 pieces to a group show at the Anka Gallery of the Everett St. lofts. Only 2 made it on the wall. I think the owner is probably a cunt rag from LA and she thinks she can depict good art from bad art. Reality check; the show was a benefit with over half of the sales of profit going straight to a benefit group, called Pear. What gall to not be grateful for the contribution of a ton of art to raise money. This ain't your superficial scene of floozy elites, honey. Here are the 3 paintings I made for this show.

The 3rd wasn't put up. Granted, it ain't that good, but that chick still sucks. The 2nd one is a portrait of Henry Miller.
Painting has been good. Sometimes it is good and goes all day and night, but sometimes it's a little slow coming along. Not so much as of recently. I have a solo show opening the last Thursday, New Year's Eve, at the Nest. I don't think it is anything to do backflips over, but I have some new stuff I am working on this week and if it all goes to plan, I may be pretty happy with the results.

Shit man, I've had a hell of a cough lately. It's dry, but it also feels like there is a bunch of penny tasting moisture in my chest as well. I don't like it. I've hardly even been smoking cigarettes as of the past few weeks, and it seems the problem may be beyond the effects of smoking. OR maybe not and I am losing my mind.
I've also been sleeping like crap lately. I fallen terribly into old habits of staying up till early morning, but waking up only a few hours later. Much of my day is a fog and I don't like that either.

So this morning I was taken to breakfast, ate a green chile breakfast, and was then taken to Columbia art store. A lady friend, whom I have been spending some time with as of late, had kindly brought me to the art store. To some extent, insisted on fronting me money for the purchase of most of the drawing supplies which had just been lost last night. She's recently taken me out for many breakfasts and dinners. Total sweetheart.
School ended early this week. Really, it was just the end of a Spanish class for me, which I think I did fairly well in. An independent study class was hardly any work at all. I just learned of a couple of artists that a teacher had shown to me, and he gave me a grade on those 10 little paintings I did. I totally ditched a printmaking class, and am now slightly regretful. I plan on writing the teacher an email tomorrow, and I plan on taking printmaking a little more seriously in the coming terms.
I may or may not be taking Spanish this coming winter term. I should, for this would be the beginning of 300 level. I shouldn't risk losing what I've learned this term, even if I haven't the greatest grasp on the language at the moment.
I got like a week to decide.
I want snow so fucking bad. Just to see it for a few minutes even seems but only a fair exchange to me for this weather. It's been slightly colder-than-normal temperatures, which isn't anything that unbearable, it's just that my room is so very poorly insulated, so I rely considerably on a little space heater. I wish I wasn't such a wuss because I'd deal with it, but drawing with cold, stiff fingers is quite a discouraging task.
I dream of someone renting me my own small, inexpensive studio. I'd cook them meals at least once a day, for the duration of the tenancy.
I've been reading a thick ass novel by Thomas Clayton Wolf, Look homeward, Angel. I had to put it down for a few weeks, especially during finals week, but I am picking it up again and it's a slow, but pretty good book. It's a pleasant reading, as is he a pleasant writer, to say the least.
Past few days I been mixing the Logs full length, a band a played drums in during my first year of living here. I recorded it over a year ago and have been totally irresponsible in mixing it. It's going to be such an unbelievable relief to send it off and out of my life, finally. I am getting a lot done and only have a little bit more to go.
Immediately after I have to finishing recording vocals and then mix my current band Carrion Spring's first release.
And then I should finish a better mix for my brother's band's recording.
And then I want to do a lot of 4-track tape recordings of the acoustic songs I wrote throughout this passed year. Why I let shit pile up I'll never know... I never really get to the opportunity to completely relax and worry about nothing at all during my school breaks. Maybe I am not the only one.
I've also just made an ode, than the next decently warm day I am going to put up few wheat pastes. And maybe dust off my camera and use it for once.
Oh, the close draws near of another year. Why must I always use new year's resolutions as an excuse to clean up my pathetic, procrastinated messes.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

I am going to have to quit smoking cigarettes extremely soon. I've decided that if I haven't by the end of this year, I will have no choice but to face a New Year's resolution of ending my habit. It's not going to be easy either, not just because of the addictive qualities cigarettes have, but because of the damned illnesses I have, Ulcerative Colitis and Crohn's Disease. Cigarettes, for some reason, give momentary relief to the intestinal pains and such. I don't what I am going to do as a substitute... I know for the anxiety and nerves I'll just chew gum or Tea Tree Oil toothpicks. I am hoping that with the end of smoking, comes the beginning of more exercise and healthier habits. I already do some small exercises quite frequently, but nothing that really benefits my entire body, mental health, and stamina. Nothing more than simple push ups and sit ups, or riding my bicycle and/or skateboard. But since I was a kid I have always done those things fairly frequently, so it's really nothing new. Maybe if I am able to implement healthier ethics and routines in my life my guts will feel better and I won't have to rely on filthy cigarettes for fleeting moment of mild relief.

I've been putting 2 paintings off for the past few days. I started the backgrounds but haven't actually begun the meat and potatoes yet. I told myself I'd start at 9. It's now 9:45. I'll start it at 10... ok, good.

I feel like I've been in a weird state lately. I've been pretty fairly productive, at least more productive than usual, yet, I still haven't been as productive as I know I want to be. I have so much free time now since I changed my major and classes... I haven't been working, and I shouldn't be going out because I don't have much money. I have to finish mixing 2 full albums worth of music ASAP, I have tons of acoustic songs I haven't recorded, I haven't picked up my 35mm camera in at least a fucking year, along with plenty of other undone things. I think instead of living in a house with 4 of my best friends, I need to invest in getting my own place. Not like I don't love living with them, it's just that I need my own studio/live space to get this all done. I can easily create the ideal environment for myself... I don't need much, just the freedom to move around and not have to see people at any given moment of the day. Maybe I'd even get better at painting during the hours of sunlight. I think I am going to aspire to getting my own place by the end of this lease, which is July of 2010.

I have 7 minutes until I start my painting. No, 6 now. I don't know what I can rattle off in so few minutes. I've had a lot on my mind lately and I need hours and hours to sift and shed even a decent chunk of it all. If I get my work done tonight and tomorrow, maybe I can allot myself a few hours to get stoned and just write. I wish I could find some generous rich person with a beach house on the Oregon Coast who will let me spend a month or 2 in their house this winter for a small fee or trade. I'd write a book, record an album, and paint awesome series of paintings. I need to hit up craigslist with such an offer... who knows, there are some very extraordinary people in this city.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


Blehck. I have been feebly grappling a painful hangover all morning. I don't think the booze and pills have completely wore off yet... in fact, I am almost positive they haven't wore off yet. My head throbs like an exploding bomb under the deepest depths of the ocean and I've been too nauseas to eat, but not nauseas enough to barf. Two hours working at a small bowl of oatmeal and I've hardly made it through half of the slop. I got stoned hoping I'd work up an appetite, but all it's done now is make me feel absolutely insane.
I was Pee-Wee Herman last night. I did a pretty great job, considering I found the necessary attire and sewed myself a red bow tie all within a few hours time.
The past few days have been slightly more productive than earlier in the week. As mentioned in the last blog, I was descending into a depressive pit, void of any creativity and self-worth. I lost it pretty hard on Friday and broke down to a friend. The venting gave me enough to reflect on, and her dealing with my pathetic bickering was just enough for me to realize I was just over-thinking things far too much, and that I was having too many over-expectations for myself. Which is not always a bad thing, at least not until it gets to the point of despair. I had also recalled a mission statement I wrote back in July for the Manor of Art gallery, which really helped to elucidate my convictions. This was what I wrote, which I feel well-represents much of my political leanings and beliefs.

The betrayal of industry and its products have undeniably brought the detachment of resource, and ultimately the biosphere. Mainstream Western culture has successfully naturalized the urgency of material existence, creating a mirage of idols, heroes, enemies, and miracles. The persistent batter of corporate interest is no longer just through advertising, and has far succeeded the suggestion of over-consumption. It has surmounted a contrived dictation of survival, re-defining standards and methods of living. As natural process becomes more and more hybridized, industry transforms and degrades many of the earth’s landscapes. Technology digs us to the other side of the world, all the while the plight of communal relationships run rampant. The opposite is also true; the machine develops so ubiquitously that the lack of ability to discern between human nature and actual nature becomes more and more frequent. The constant loss of many important traditions that have been learned , evaluated, and re-learned throughout history, are giving way to the instability of deceitful institutions. And with this deception, is a tenuous acculturation that is begging for inevitable disasters.

So, as soon as I brushed those feelings off, I was able to begin the sketches of a few new paintings. I did not start the paintings, but at least I have the ideas down. That's the other thing I need to get better at... quickening my process... I am prone to lallygag frequently. It takes the first half of the night and/or day to bust through the loafing, and then once everyone in the house and the outside world are snoring away, I ceaselessly paint until at least the early hue of the morrow.
I was reading some stupid "14 things an artist should always do" blog online the other day, and though most of it was totally cheesy, I felt the lump of guilt in my guts when I read the "start early and start right away on projects" section. The only time I can achieve that is when I am in a class and I have no choice... well, if I am outside of my bedroom I think I can achieve an early start on painting. My bedroom, to quote Rob Crow, unfortunately bums me out. Maybe one day I'll be lucky enough to get a studio.
On Thursday, the Barn Raising radio collective for the first time met since, I believe, July. This was an idea I had back in the spring, a radical collective, with the goal of making monthly hour-long radio shows, set no further than just simple podcasts. The few of us, including an old teacher/current friend of mine, my brother, Lee, and a fellow student friend of mine, Jennifer, were so close to beginning our first show recording. But then we all became busy with whatever we had going in our lives. On Thursday's meeting, there was maybe 3 times the amount of people who showed up interested than before... people I didn't even remotely know. And it felt awesomely motivating. I hope we continue with this project... I'd love to see us record a show. I think it may actually happen. Oh, and the opening for the Vinyl Killers show was also on Thursday, which I not only missed but also have 2 pieces of work up.
I haven't touched my Spanish homework, not to mention I didn't even go to class on Thursday. I am pretty behind, but I plan on catching up. I think I am losing the motivation with studying the language because I dropped my major in International Development Studies. It is no longer required, so I obviously have become slightly disinterested... which is totally fucked up, because I halfway through the last semester of my 2nd year. Either today or tomorrow I shall devote several hours to nothing but catching up on my Spanish class.
God damn I am fucking brain dead right now. I don't even feel like I have been typing this. Such a daft fog I have to fight through to even write a simple journal entry. Guh...woe is me. Maybe I can take a nap right now and when I awake, get on that early start.

Thursday, October 29, 2009


I just arrived home from seeing Propagandhi. Shit was tight. I must have the sweat of a hundred men all over me. There was nothing that wasn't rad about that show.
I have been spending the past days drawing pathetic sketches and striving to come up with something... I really don't know what the fuck it is. It's only been a week or 2 since I have made my switch to majoring in Art, and already I've been introduced to such a multitude of artists, that I am beginning to feel lost. I shouldn't whatsoever, for these should be considered my years of study... but fuck, I am a capable human being. I am fairly attuned to the world around me... I know a little of the current societal conditions, I see the state of human beings everyday around me... I know, if only a minuscule amount, of larger events and problems happening throughout other parts of the world... and for some reason, I sit blank. The sketches aren't blank, but to me are as good as such.
Someone recently told me that I maybe desire to stand out from others and that is why I am so overly-skeptical of what I do,taking more time than necessary to make my work... but after full consideration, I don't think that is true at all. I don't care to boast some pretension, but rather exude something which exists, and compose it in such a way that relates to someone...anyone. And just relate. That is it. I don't care how good or bad. But I don't want to make something that is boring, a knock of, or lacks substance. And it doesn't need some sort of profundity.. I just want it to be true.
Ok. Enough bickering, I'll just try my best.
Halloween in 2 days. I haven't even put a single thought into my plans for the day of celebration. I may head to a Goodwill and see if I can muster up enough thrifted clothes to comprise a Pee-Wee Herman costume. I'd like to, it just depends on how common light gray suits and red bow-ties still are.
I also thought of something I want to do this weekend. I want to walk around with some mix tapes and my head phones and camera, and take photos of this city. I lack so many photos of the place I live in. And not only that, I think it would be a positive influence on gathering ideas for some new art work. Ok good. One day this weekend I am going to get high and take photos of the city. Oh fuck, it is 2 am and I still gotta wake up early and do a lot of Spanish homework before class at noon.
Buenos noche.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Foody food food

I have acquired some new food habits. For instance, the past few years have brought the second coming of my undying love for banana and peanut butter. This is my breakfast at least half of the week. But recently I got wind of maybe putting a whole banana and some peanut butter in a bowl with some oatmeal. Voila! The creamiest, tastiest oatmeal I ever done had.
I've also developed some sort of addiction to coconut water. I can sometimes drink 5 servings in a day. Every time I finish the drink, I feel as if I've been born again.
This passed weekend was Garagefest in Portland. I saw a bunch of bands, but the only one I really cared about and truly shredded were the Strange Boys. Bunch of little shit heads who make the most timeless music. They are incredibly legit. The singer lost some marbles on a noisy solo, and ripped some part of his hand open. Blood was everywhere. He just rubbed the blood up top each cheek, wiped the blood from his guitar pick, and resumed through the rest of the set without really every showing heed to his wound. A bad mother fucker.
Carrion Spring play's tomorrow with some friends bands. Exciting.
I started my first printmaking class yesterday. I am learning etching. This is even more exciting.
Ok, time to go to Spanish class.

Friday, October 16, 2009

It's only one in the a.m. this very early Friday morning. Half-asleep, I winced awake and my heart thumped erratic. I've been putting off a lot of important work, ignoring it with excuses. It's easy to excuse these things when you can harmlessly lay the blame on others, and other things. The repetition becomes habitual. The further you tilt your head back, the faster it goes down, and the faster you'll forget about it.
I've let some things dig it's way inside of me. I usually keep a strong defense directly above my feet below. But lately I've wandered ill-postured to places where time can blindly burn, and when you finally end up back where you wanted to be, the ashes blow across the floor and into the growing piles of the room's corners.
The days I've been spending in large classrooms for a few hours, a few days a week, may feel good and momentarily full-filling, but I know if I really had that time with a good head on that day's shoulders, I could truly learn something. I'm lost, and I wait for anyone of these people to tell me I'm finally there.
But it never happens, because I know it's impossible to trust the direction someone else.
I dropped my major in International Development Studies, and declared I am going to just continue towards a Bachelors degree in Fine Arts. I plan on painting, but I am very open to any medium and any method. Someone from the head of the art department spoke with me earlier today... or rather, yesterday afternoon. When I asked him how it is I shall learn painting and how I'll study art at PSU, he explained that 'it's not so much the instruction, but that it's the exploration and experimentation which the environment is meant for.' His answer was far more fumbled than that, and sometimes I even doubted his explanations of the program... but in all, realized I will have far more freedom as a student in the Art program than I will in any other academic program. I am hoping this goes for both inside and outside of the school.
My suddenly impetuous decision may be possibly outrageous, but really is the only justifiable endeavor I can confidently muster. There are myriad reasons as to why I made this transfer, but I care not to expand on them.
So the future seems a bit clearer for me now, clearer at least than it did as of no more than a day ago. I think studying the world and the societies with governments and classes and families and populations and religions and sects and economies and currencies and problems and infrastructures and policies and markets and industries and institutions and agreements and barriers and jails and corporations and civilizations and movements and disasters and the rest of it all.. I think studying it all is very important. And I believe someday I'll have done some part, some kind of positive contribution. The part will be little, so little that it will disappear no sooner than all who may have known me have as well disappeared. But it will be beautiful, if not anything but for me.
All of those things aforementioned are taught by a teacher, whom of which are well-learned from other, more well-written people. They are explained, discussed, compared, contrasted, and tested on.
I know where to look for all of this information. I can easily expose myself to plenty of it everyday, be it some form of literature... or in the least, a kind of morning alarm clock to wake up to as I lay staring at the slanted ceiling above my bed for an hour. That's the same length of Democracy Now!, which I haven't listened to in almost a month.
I still have a couple of more years in this university, and I'll graduate with some Bachelor's degree, and I'll face the music, and I'll accept the even more monstrous lending that'll inevitably turn into a life-long debt, and it will then be the defeat which becomes my means to gain the credentials to be a... a teacher, is the most I can fathom. A simple Point A to Point B model. Point A marks right now, this very second, where all of my options stand and all of dreams continue to keep me focused, and Point B is the final moment I know it's over and I submit to a job which I must apply for and plan on keeping for a few decades, because I will then have no other choice.
It's the course most of us take. I too as well, though I'm still stubborn. I'm apprehensive, and quite frankly, scared shitless of the whole she-bang.
I've still got a Mom and a Dad whom I've fortunately got time to make proud. I've got a brother and some close friends whom I can turn to, and I've got myself to look after.
The days have been flashing by like a thumb flipping the pages of a lame book. I need to get better at remembering that.
I need to force the bones of any and all girls out of my head. I only seem to get myself either caught up, or caught up in trouble. I can't bother myself with something as gargantuan as romance, at least not until it finally trips me without warning, and I go headfirst into the thing. I'm sure it will knock me out... and well, when I wake up, I'll deal with it then... maybe then it'll finally work.
2 a.m. now. The few whiskies I drank earlier at my brother's show have ran clear through and rendered me exhausted. I still have time to get 6 full hours of sleep, wake up, and convince the Petition Board of PSU to accept my proposal of switching classes in the middle of the fall term. Necesito todo del suerte puedo conseguir.


Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Estoy cansado un poco.

The past few days and nights have been gorgeous. This morning I smoked a cigarette on the porch while the sun rose and the paperboy did his route down my street. I finished my last painting for the upcoming gallery at The Goodfoot, "I am, therefore I think." Lately, I am enjoying ink more than any other medium. I finished the painting around 8 am, and finally gave in to sleep not much after. I slept until 12, and have been pretty exhausted for the day, but my brain still seems to be running at a commendable pace.
I recorded vocals for the 2nd to last Carrion Spring song earlier today (for our first full length album), which is called "Scum Fuck Angelz." I wrote those lyrics really late 2 nights ago. Thom requested that I write about "Our wavering faith in the punk/hardcore culture, and how capitalism has been successfully coopting off of the scene for profits... and also our possible optimism in the future of the culture." I settled with this:

this sinking ship
wasn't ever meant
to hold such weight
lead astray
such dead weight.

These corpses
ain't no angelz
The motive's a poisoned well
a stye, a blinding cell.

Rapacious incentives
program sedation
we've been robbed,
The fight has not been lost
it's just been stolen.
The fight has not been lost
it's just been stolen.
We've been robbed...
while turning our own against us
while turning our own against us!

These hands may appear to be
folded and dormant...
Well, these hands will soon appear
around your fucking necks

This year's model has been breaking ground,
while last year's heroes are buried, still breathing.
So let the bodies pile high
we're bringin out our dead
to begin again.

I mean shit, it's a little cheesy... oh well. It is indeed punk.
I am surprised I had not lost my voice recording the vocals... I gotta scream like a motherfucker to have them sound the way I want. Last time I recorded some of the other songs, I not only lost my voice, but somehow lost feeling in most of my left hand, and some of my right. I think I pinched a nerve in my neck, which seems to be attatched to my hand... or something along those lines. It takes almost months to regain feeling. I am very grateful that did not happen this time around.
I am almost counting the damn seconds until financial aid disbursement... 3 days left. I think I have 25 dollars remaining until that awaited day. Which is a bummer because Phil just called me and said he just arrived to visit from New York, and they are at the bar Mashtun. But it is apparently 8 dollar pitchers. I'll probably skate on down there in a minute. Just after I finish coming up with names for these paintings. I already fucked over the owner of the gallery today... I was running so irresponsibly late that I wasn't able to drop them off today. I promised I'd drop them off first thing tomorrow, so I got to get it all labeled and ready to be hung before I go out and get my drink on... and hopefully I don't crash at the bar. Or, I'll take a caffeine pill and remain terribly delirious and fucked up until the bars close. Ok, it's settled.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Ok I'll blog now.

This is where I currently live. I have lived here, on NE Garfield Ave. and Rosa Parks, one block east of MLK Blvd, since July of this year. Up until last week, we had a flourishing green grape vine covering most of the porch, but the fruits grew far too big, tore the damned gutter down, and the bastards at the rental agency cut that shit down. I wish them all a horrible case of diarrhea for a full week. Only what looks like a twisted spine remains hanging on the porch... it is quite sad, a stump from one of the bigger limbs continually leaks a sort of saltyish liquid that looks like sobbing. Poor grape vine. People say it'll grow back next year... I have faith in the lil' guy.
That top room is mine. There is a ledge along the window where I play guitar and read and doodle sometimes. When no one is home, I play guitar in the stair well... it sounds like I am inside
instrument. We have wood floors and huge basement where I set up my studio and our band equipment. I live with 4 of my good friends, Paul, Thom, Phil, and Johnny. It's sad not living with girls anymore.
That is Carrion Spring, who is Phil, Thom, and myself. We've been playing since last November, and are in the process of finishing our first full length album. We've played some shows, and most of them have been wonderful. I scream very loudly in the band, and love every second I get to play with them.

That's a room I recently accomplished for a gallery called The Manor of Art, at this artist community, MilePost5, up on 82nd and Oregon. Most of the installations were made by my friend Ashley Costa, and she did a radical job on them. I have other galleries and live murals coming up, and am incredibly grateful and excited for these opportunities. The 2+ weeks of working day and night, subsisting on PBR, pack after pack of cigarettes, trail mix, energy drinks and mild drugs, shall remain unforgettable. Hundreds of artists had rooms, and being around them for those weeks cannot be put into words... everyone constantly remarked how it was like summer camp for crazy people with out any rules but to make art, and lots of it, by any means possible. The mayor of Portland came up to me one of the last days of the exhibition, shook my hand and said I was one of his favorite rooms... I blushed.

I took 2 summer courses, Spanish 202 and Radical & Revolutionary Social Movements. Spanish was 5 days a week for 2 weeks. It was like getting a Flu shot, minus all the itchiness following the injection. The Radical Social Movements class was pretty tight, I read a lot of good literature and essays. I highly recommend Gustav Landauer. I received an A in both classes, considering my lack of involvement the last week, for that was the start of the gallery.

As soon as these paintings are finished for the upcoming galleries, I want to go with James up to Seattle and wander the city for a few days. I also want to go camping before the 28th, which starts the fall term. I hope I do at least one of the 2.

I've been taking way too many Vivarin pills, and feel sort of white trash when I think about my current dependency on them. But it's the only thing that is helping me finish these projects right now. I'll kick the habit soon enough.. and hopefully cigarettes with them as well. I doubt the latter will be successful anytime soon though, American Spirit mediums are just too good...guh.

My favorite music right now is European screamo and depressing folk. I recently got hold of the new Propagandhi and I have been pretty into that as well.

I don't sleep well since the beginning of August. I sometimes don't sleep a single wink and crash the following night around midnight, but even then sleep less than 8 hours. I hope I can put an end to that when I start the fall term. Maybe if I discontinue eating Vivarin pills i'll find the answer to that problem.

My bicycle is a wreck as of lately, so I skateboard much more now. For my birthday, back in July, my mom bought me a new one, and I made sure to get super fast bearings and softer wheels. I ride dangerously fast and enjoy skating in the closed down Payless Shoe Store parking lot right by my house. There are these gnarly banks you can ride on, and it reminds me of skating in Brooklyn.

I haven't had much pocket cash as of lately, so I have been eating quite simple and meals aren't always that incredible. Financial aid disbursement is in 1 week, just in time for the Music Fest North West festival. I just got word that I can volunteer for Corey's bandmate's record label and receive free admission now. I hear Sunny Day Real Estate sold out... but I still may have a chance now with this wrist band. I'll kill a man if I don't see them.

Ok I return to my painting now.