Unshowered

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.

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.

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.

xo

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.

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.