blog-0-tron9000 v2.0


peace out, homie
26 June, 2009: [176/365], 07:17.45 [Friday]
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’m done blogging here, indefinitely. I started my own website. It also has a blog, but no comments (can’t enable them for some reason). So to all two of my readers, um, thanks?

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the reunion, pt. II
05 June, 2009: [155/365], 18:25.36 [Friday]
Filed under: Uncategorized

A hauntingly familiar screech of feedback streaked through the air, followed by more electrical squealing and buzzing, though less intense, as the speakers from which they were born had seen better days—back in the era of disco. The sound tech hobbled onstage to test the lone mic, whose cord was frayed and just another element of the elaborate fire hazard in which we’d be trapped this evening. “Uhnng, ch-check, check one, chehhhhhh…” The poor sap couldn’t even finish the sound check before passing out. His eyes were black from burst vessels and crusts of dried blood could be found under his nose and on his upper lip. This, I thought to myself, could either be the greatest show I’d ever seen in my life, or the one that would finally put Skid Viscous in a federal prison. I was betting on the latter, of course.

Unfortunately, if there was going to be a pyrotechnic disaster (which, by this point, was simply an inevitability), I would have a great deal of difficulty escaping for my life. The foundry was packed well beyond capacity, and on top of that, many of the windows and doors were barricaded shut. How Vert12 managed to snag a permit to play at a condemned building was far beyond my investigative grasp. Also unfortunate was the realization that I was most likely the only one to notice this.

It wasn’t an earth-shaking revelation, since the vast majority of the crowd was made up of shiftless young adults freshly dropped out of their unaccredited technical schools, VCR repair too advanced for them to understand. Many of these guys appeared to be part of an honest-to-god movement to revive the mullet as an unironic, legitimate hairstyle for the masses; other demographics were represented, if marginally: bros, stoners, and the “trenchcoat” crowd which I’d believed to have gone extinct six years ago. Among them was the occasional spineless, irresponsible mother or father who had been coerced into providing a ride. Noticeably absent was the untapped demographic of women aged 18 to 36. Noticeable, but not shocking.

Finally, another forty-five minutes after the sound tech was dragged offstage by Okemah paramedics, a lanky man appearing to be in his late thirties emerged. He was disturbingly thin, and his embarrassing make-up clown mask couldn’t hide the sagging skin, wrinkles, and pock marks marring his face. Despite his visible ribs, he carried a worrisome gut, indicating a heart condition just waiting to manifest at the most inopportune time. It was when he introduced himself as “Skidzz tha MurdaMasta” that I finally recognized him as Skid Viscous, and my stomach turned at the sight of him. He had aged sixteen years in only four.

My stomach turned again when it came to me what Skidzz was trying to offer. Vertigo12, while completely forgettable in their previous incarnation as a scum-metal band, was announcing its new packaging as a gangsta-punk-masked metal clowncore outfit, resembling a certain greasepainted duo from Detroit.

To be continued.



ebb and flow
03 June, 2009: [153/365], 19:25.04 [Wednesday]
Filed under: Uncategorized

I still battle with my social ambivalence and misanthropic tendencies. Does everyone repulse me, or do I care deeply for my friends? Actually, do I even really care in the first place?

While I have made a great deal of progress in dealing with my neuroses, I still occasionally go through periods of time during which I am rather unsociable and feeling unfriendly. For no rational reason, I come to some weird conclusion that everyone can go screw themselves and I’m better off without them. This is one of those times, right now.

I start off feeling almost happy, like I actually have friends and can be comfortable and comforted during rough or tedious times, but then that nearly joyous, “positive” neutrality turns into apathy. Then it all just goes downhill from there. My die-hard, steadfast cynicism ultimately gets the best of me, and I start to turn against everybody, believing that they all have some sort of ulterior motive behind keeping my friendship. This is not to say that I am writing everyone off, I know who my true friends are; but on the other hand, I hate to say that too, because I feel awful for being so skeptical toward everyone else over what is likely nothing.

This is a cyclical phenomenon for me, and I can’t really control that feature of my psyche. And it’s not that I’m feeling depressed, I’m just feeling profoundly empty. All I can do is force myself to communicate with others, no matter how much I don’t want to do it.