Ok, after a week of lacking a cell, I have one again, so yay.

Actually was surprised how naked I felt without it. Not that I really use it all the much, but it's still something that you get used to. That and I needed to call people with it who I had no other way of talking to.

On another note, today I'm hitting up my cousin's wedding. It's a strange thing. I felt more attatchment to my friends' wedding than this one. In fact, I feel so removed from it that I have no desire to actually go at all. It's not that I'm not on good terms with them or anything, it's just that they're not really part of the closeknit family unit that we have. They're mother is kind of a nut, and sort of on the perpetual outs, and as a result I never really got to know these cousins. When they would show up at the house, they were standoffish and just sort of cold in the middle of about 23 other people having a good time, so it sort of put a damper on my desire to know them more.

So the end result is a wedding that I could care less about that I feel is more of a waste of an evening than a celebration. I'm just bitter, perhaps, but when you have to sit through an event that really doesn't affect you in the least, you tend to get bored. When you're forced to go to something that you don't care about, you get bitter, or a bit irked, as you could be using that time much, much more effectively. Even if it isn't effective, you could at least have a little fun with it.

Maybe I'm just bitter because this is a case of another young person being more together than me, maybe I'm jealous. I can't rule that out entirely. I do know, however, that it is not as much the fact that this person is together as it is the way her mother will rub it in my face, basically saying, "Ooooo your parents suck. My kid is soooooo much better than you." That's the part I'm not looking forward to in the very least, regardless of emotional attatchment or not.

On the bright side, someone is becoming very happy, and perhaps, if I'm truly lucky, there will be an open bar.

There's always someone that cries at a wedding. No one ever asks why they're crying. Maybe they're just really upset at something, or their shoes are very uncomfortable. Perhaps they just lost everything in the stock market, or they were sprayed with mace nary 20 minutes beforehand. Maybe they are happy. No one will ever know.

-ccm

My cell phone died.

Grrrrrrrrrr.

So email me your numbers, or IM them. I won't know how to reach you otherwise. Except for emailing and IMing, but really, hearing your sweet voice is so much nicer, don't you think?

Ok. Off to gamble with relatives.

later,

-ccm

In spite of the inherent danger, I want something that rolls on two wheels and is motorized. I'm thinking a Vespa, if I end up in the city. That would rock. Secretly, I've always wanted one of those things. I just think they're really quite cool, in a classic sense. They aren't considered the most masculine of transports, but then again, I'm not considered the most masculine of men.

Can't play hockey for a bit thanks to my neck, which is apparently more messed up than it should be. The joints are really stiff, to the point where the lady in physical therapy is convinced that I had some previous injury to it. Sort of makes me wonder if I missed something along the way, like slamming my head into a wall or something...hmm. Kind of funny that, the stiffness. I never really noticed.

Speaking of hockey, the NHL is back. Thank fucking god. It's been far too long. They've changed some rules to make the game even faster, but still maintain the same form of the game. Combine that with some really hot draft prospects and this could be one hell of a season coming up. The best part is that as of now I'm stuck in Western Connecticut, which means I can watch Ranger games on TV, whenever they're on. Yeah unemployment!

I'm getting a job this week. One way or another.

My dreams of an Irish Wolfhound are dashed thanks to the fact that they need a lot of space. Makes sense when you're talking about a dog that grows at least 32 inches tall (at the shoulder) and 120 lbs (for males). I will have to think about a more apartment friendly dog. Also, I will have to think of an apartment.

Bowling tomorrow, like every Tuesday. It's nice to have a routine. I'm hoping that Liz'll come. She's fun to hang out with, and it would also break up the sausage fest that is Tuesday night bowling.

Saw Mike Doughty, Hot Hot Heat, and The Bravery this past week. Doughty is one of my favorite musicians, and seeing him with a band was just unreal. He's pretty much put together his old band, Soul Coughing, in terms of instruments. He's also really really good in a band, live, and not on a Dave Matthews-esque piece of shit album (thanks ATO).

His drummer also played hockey in Ridgefield rink, back when it had 3 walls and the ice used to fog up. He and I talked about this for a little bit, but it was one of those really awesome moments where you find you share a common experience with a total stranger. He's from Newtown, by the way.

Go Whalers!

-ccm

So sleep is something that i fight very often, never wanting to succumb to it's warm embrace. Even on pills and things that will make me fall faster, i fly away from it, struggling to be awake. I can't remember the last night that i fell asleep before 3 am. Tonight, however, may be the night where i fail.

It is 1.56 am when i start this, and i fear that sleep will take me early and easily this morning.

I am unemployed. Every single job that I have applied to has failed to respond in any shape, way, or form. I have begun to wonder if i listed the wrong contact information on my resume. I am assured, however, by the relative level of unemployment that the majority of my peers enjoy, or don't enjoy. The jobs that i want won't come, and the ones that i don't want are even further away.

The plan was to move to Providence, to find a new start, but things are slowing to a halt. The living is easy and cheap, but the movement is stilted and delayed. Reality is leaping in the way of invention and ambition, and making myself and my friend realize that things are not as easy in real life as they are on paper. So i shall most likely be stuck at home for quite a while.

To Conn Coll i shall apply. They need an admissions person, and hell, i know the school, and i'm not doing anything else with my life. Could even try and take a night class. It would also put me close to a lot of my friends, while allowing me to get the hell off of campus and actually live in a city. I would take New London or anything east of it easily. I need to get out of western CT. There's really nothing wrong with it, but i feel as though i need something bigger, something to move up in the world with. I need a new(ish) start.

But things are never easy, as stated before, and places are not near, but far away. Travel is slow by horse, and slower without employment, or employment in the right place. Perhaps I was a fool not to jump on the New York bandwagon right away. There I would have had a nice placeholder job, and I could at the very least crash with my grandparents for a bit. The city would be mine to explore and exploit for employment.

So far, that's not happening, though I may try for it. At this point, any sort of employment would make me happy, or just something to do. I'm working on two scripts right now. One with Ferry and one by myself. I've been kicking around the idea of the second one for a while, and i must say, it is a complete sell out of a film, but one i've wanted to make forever. Conn Coll did well to inspire me, and i feel as though i need to interview some people to get a better idea of my subject matter.

With all that out of the way, i'm still single, though now with much shorter hair. No more am i blonde. I also have a fairly fucked up neck. General burning in my back and neck accompany me around. That has nothing to do with the lack of sleep, but is a little bothersome. It bugs me because i can't play hockey now. Once again i am sedentary. Hell, they told me i really shouldn't do much of anything, that i should take it easy. I don't like that, and never have. I don't do much physical activity, but when i want to, i do. Now i can't.

This should be a good weekend though. A concert on thursday and friday. Hot Hot Heat and the Bravery on thursday and Mike Doughty on friday. Should be fun, if potentially exhausting. I need to get out though, and this will be the ticket.

I wonder when i will find that someone to love? A slight departure. The song "Black Star" came on the Itunes. It's always held this romantic ring for me, though it seems to talk of impending relationship doom. I'm not really hunting for anything much right now, but the severe lack of girls in the post college world makes one think about things like this. Maybe time was wasted in college, not trying to find the right person, or going after the wrong ones...it's impossible to know the answer to a question like that, to any question concerning things like this. It'll happen when it happens. Sex is easy enough these days, in general, but love is next to impossible.

"Black Star" reminds me of a rainy day, at about 4 pm, driving back from a train. The car is unusually clean, but in spite of the drab weather, there is joy. It is the summer, and though the rain makes the air heavy, it is refreshing and warm. It's like a soothing shower wherever you go, and at that time, I am thinking of the person I loved. That warm feeling, from the rain, from her, from the song, the morose longing that the right music ignites in ones self, makes me forever brand this moment into my mind. That song will always make me misty, in that romantic sense.

I say things in dreams, like most people do, and apparently when I was in that "Black Star" phase of my life, i said something that i thought was worth writing down. I wrote it on a small square of paper, of which we have thousands of thanks to office surplus. The quote was as follows, "I just realized that all those times we were looking at the beautiful scenery, I was really looking at you instead."

Time may have changed me, or my life, or something, but I can't connect with that quote anymore. I know it's something from my mind, and i know where it would come from, but it's hard to rationalize the level of trust that i once had, that trust that makes you say really sappy things like that, and just devote yourself. I don't know if i have that anymore, really, i just don't know.

Well, that ended on an up note. Weezer's "Buddy Holly" just came into my ears, and i wonder what made the song come about, an event or imagination? Whatever the case, it's catchy. He does kind of look like Buddy Holly, back in the day. Before he went crazy.

The malicious side of me wonders if anyone gives a shit. I know that some people do. I wonder how many random people read this. I found out that more people read this than i originally thought. People have conversed over it, discected it, etc. It's an interesting thing.

On a final note, if you've read through all this, thanks. I haven't let things out for a bit, and it may be the muscle relaxant making me a little loopy (it does that, basically makes me drunk), but this felt pretty good. If i haven't kept in touch with you after college, i'm sorry. I've been lax in my communications, though i have no reason to be. I'll get in touch soon, trust me.

In a nod to the early iterations of this story, we shall end with a quote:

"Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking."
- Jessamyn West


yours, as always,

-ccm

ps: this ends at 2.41 am. May even make it to 3am.

A thing that bothers me greatly is that the community playhouse where i used to work has been taken over by a no talent hack who puts on shows that suck, yet make a lot of money. How do his shows make money? They have enormous casts, mostly made up of kids. This leads to the parents coming to see the shows over and over again, as well as aunts, uncles, and anyone else that can be dragged out of their family history books.

This guy basically has killed off a once beautiful source of theatrical entertainment, and to him, I say this: Shame on you. You have really hurt your community while only padding your own ego.

Of course, the playhouse lets him put on his shows. After all, they do value money more than art.

But anyway, I'm creative again. I think it may be my lack of stimulation combined with the pain meds I'm on, but lately I've been creative in all sorts of ways. I've started writing again, and while it hasn't been anything grand, it's a start. I also have started tinkering with stringed instruments, and like a high schooler I've written a sappy poppy song about love. How typical.

Tomorrow morning promises the "Midsummer Illegal Music Swap Fest and Champagne Brunch". It's my brother's idea. Myself and a few other people are going to get together, make pancakes, drink champagne, and swap music until the record companies shut us down or we run out of drinks...I feel as though both are very interesting prospects. After all, nothing beats a midday drunk on a weekday.

So here's to pill popping and pulls of the bubbly stuff.

-ccm

In a comical post script to my recent wanderlust:

I was out on an aimless drive, having a good time when a truck full of migrant workers slammed into the back of my car. This pushed me into the car in front of me, and stripped my car of a functional trunk. All that's really left is the frame and the chunks of styrofoam that kept me safe.

And my airbag, in spite of being hit by a really fast moving van, didn't go off. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet.

So I'm not going anywhere for a while, as I lack a car.

Grumble.

At least I'm ok, and everyone involved is...

-ccm

Walking in NYC, along Times Square, a bit beyond it in fact, a young man is sitting on a stoop. He is slender in build, black jeans tight enough to lower his sperm count grip his legs. He looks depressed. Even the blonde frosted tips of his hair seem just a little down, in spite of them being strictly gelled skywards.

He is smoking a cigarette.

Three other youngsters walk down the sidewalk by where he sits. They are obviously from out of town, and the polar opposite of him in mood, visible disposition, and number. They move to a point in front of him, below and awning, and gawk at a series of terrible billboard ads, ads so bad that they decide to photograph them.

The ads are trying to sell advertising space, and there are 6 of them arranged in a column, right on top of each other. Two men stand there, trying their hardest to look cool, giving the three, and the seated fourth a forced thumbs up. They wear suits, and are the pinnacle for the uncool cool.

The three stand there for a while, fumbling with camera phones in order to try and record their find. The fourth sits, still smoking, gazing off into the world, through buildings, through cars. He is elsewhere, not tethered to what's going on near him. For an instant, however, he snaps back.

"You want to hear something fucked up?", he says in a puff of smoke.

The trio ignores him, save for one. He knows he shouldn't listen, but he also is infinitely curious about people. He asks the infamous and sometimes fatal, "What?"

"My friend...", he says struggling a little bit to get through this, "My friend just fell out of a fourth story window. They just carted him away. He was bad man, really bad. He had a cut from here to here." He says this as he runs his finger from his temple all the way down to his sternum.

"That's terrible. Is he going to be ok?"

"They took him away, he's there right now. I hope so."

"How're you doing?"

"He's probably going to make it..."

What does one say to someone who just saw his friend mangled and isn't sure if he will live? What can one say? All you can do is listen sometimes, I would suppose, and hope for the best.

"Well man, stay strong. You've got to be there for him."

And with that, the trio walked away to leave the man to his cancer and his thoughts. The one that spoke to him looked back and wondered if he had done the right thing, if he could do anything else for this man. He looked back and noted that this man was similar to himself in age, general appearence, and disposition. He played it cool with the other two as they walked on, as if the man were crazy and questioned why he would just start talking to someone.

He joked, but really he knew why the man had spoke, why anyone talks to strangers.

Sometimes, you just have to get it off your chest.

-ccm

It's bad when you are having a philosophical moment, then you realize that your question on the nature of love is a cheesy song lyric.

Kind of takes the wind out of your sails.

So how have you been doing?

Me? Oh i've been pretty ok. Right now i'm still feeling groggy from a weekend full of travel and parties. The first stop was Conncoll, where a devil's brew ended my night early. After a good night of sleeping on concrete it was time for a drive, a train, more trains, and Brooklyn. IN the Ridge we found T$ and his posse, and proceeded to hit up China town and little Italy. Good times all around. Then we were mislead and had to run to our train. That was not fun.

So then I'm at home, still groggy, as I said, sitting in front of my computer on a Sunday night, wanting to say something important, but not having the drive or the words to. The wind is gone, and so am I, in a sense.

Ever think how nice that would be? Just think about it. I mean, getting up and getting gone, going where you haven't, and not looking back for at least a while. It would just be great. You could live on the edge, but not in that cliche way. THere is a way you live when you are in your routine, and there is the way you act on the road. The road way is crazier. When you're passing through, you don't care what people think, what you may do or have done, nor do they care about you. It's just a good way to live, all id.

That's not really a good way to live at all, now that I think about it, but hey, at least I'm typing some.

I'm going to come back to this.

-ccm

As mentally sharp as one can feel
there are things that you don't see coming
things that take a lot out of you
and make you feel sluggish.

What can one do about these things?
Nothing, to be quite honest
but roll with the blows
and try not to wobble too much.

Bad or good or whatever it is
where it takes you
and where you think you may begin
You will fall down a bit,
but get back up.

That whole fight never really ends
it just sort of boils over sometimes
and what will happen between good friends
I guess we'll never know.

-ccm

Booze and wrestling.

A good combo.

Good night.

-ccm