Her Lucky Pretty Eyes

My New Life.

Work.

Class.

Work.

Class.

Work.

Work.

And resting on the seventh.

And now...some stuff I found on my phone I meant to post over the last two weeks:

Drove this Ford F-350 Diesel with Duellies. Courtesy of the Olzaks.


Demon Goat at the Crawford County Fair


An awesome painting by the lovely Ms. Kimmi Rosser


Dogbed


Best Man speech at The Rage's wedding


Buy this shirt.



WE OWN YOU. 611

Deadend conviction addiction rejection your body's running down so tired so busy fitting in your bloodshot hippie ways are going to lead you down a blackened road think for yourself or are you so drunk you can't think at all I can't get through to your mind so blind that it can't predict your fall no one can stop you but you you put me here to watch you fall thinking it's so funny to us all a life to live I have but one you put me here to watch you run you've got no body to run you've got no eyes to see you've got no way to make it through the other side of me think for yourself wake up

P.S. 21 and still Edge. Love it.

Not For Sale

This Friday, August 28th, 2009, is my birthday. Birthdays are always exciting and when you really think about it, they hold more significance than we ever give them credit for. Another year older, another year wiser, another year full of experiences that I lived and grew from, lessons learned, friendships earned, strengthened, weakened, relationships built or broken. How much do people really change in a year? And was it for better or for worse? I know a lot of people, as we all do, that make drastic changes year to year. But I also know plenty of people that I can rely on to be the same person no matter how many years go by. Most of the latter group, I am extremely proud to call my friends. Small changes here and there, but overall they are the same as when we met. And I believe that I can safely say that I am still the same person I was. Again, I know I have probably made small changes, but mostly, still the same. Maybe that's why we've stayed friends. We saw qualities inside one another we found endearing and we can count on them always being there.

* * *

This Friday I will be 21 years old. And everyone knows what that means! Legal consumption of alcohol! Of course! Because for some reason, there is an insane amount of importance placed on imbibing alcohol in our culture. And that is the only thing turning 21 is good for, right?

"You turn 21 this is how you have fun.

A whole new life is waiting for you.
So just drink 'em down 'til your brain runs wild.
And your pride is gone so you act like a child."

I don't think I will ever understand the appeal of alcohol. I don't want to understand. Something so easy to abuse, something so obviously unhealthy, unsafe, and unnecessary is literally our national past time. Birthday? Drink! Wedding? Drink! Baseball game? Drink! Bored? Drink! Weekend? Drink! Does it not seem so silly that swallowing a liquid is an activity? If alcohol were never discovered/created, do you think people would consume just as much Dr. Pepper? Or milk? Or water?

What is it that makes beer, and wine, and whiskey so attractive? The feeling it gives you. The "buzz." It "loosens" you up. Makes you feel good. And for some reason, again, unbeknownst to me, this feeling overrides all common sense, logic, concern for health, safety, and self preservation. We drink anyway. The fascination, the infatuation, the addiction that our culture has with alcohol is absolutely pathetic.

Drinking has become so ingrained into the fabric of society that NOT drinking is rarely even considered. Not drinking is weird. The general population doesn't understand anymore, why you wouldn't drink. But there was a time that drinking made you an outlaw. In January 1919, 36 states approved and ratified the 18th Amendment. The National Prohibition Act. The manufacture, sale, transportation, and consumption of alcohol were made illegal. But of course we couldn't live without it. Organized crime sky rocketed, underground speakeasy's flourished, and the country's law enforcement agencies could only be spread so thin. So on December 5, 1933, the 21st Amendment [there's that number again] was passed and we could once again go about our blissfully drunken lives. We could go back to a time where NOT drinking, made you some kind of rebel.

I am a rebel. Plain and simple. I do not drink. I will not drink. Ever. I am Straight Edge. Forever. This Friday will mark my 8th year wearing these X's.

I don't quite remember how it happened or how I learned about straight edge, but whenever I search my brain it always comes back to Matt Czarnecki and I in the lunch room. I had X's on my hands and he indignantly asked me "Do you even know what that means?" Of course I did, but I can't remember how. Matt was my original source for all things punk. He learned from his brother, I learned from him. He was always concerned about me being a poser or something. But here I am. Still.

So, I went through middle school, high school, and now college, being interrogated incessantly about "Why don't you drink? Why don't you smoke? What do you do for fun?" and the only answers I ever really had were more questions: "Why would I? Why do you?" Needless to say, being the "weird" kid, the punk, literally the ONLY straight edge kid in high school at the time, left me with very few close friends outside the halls and classrooms of GM. So I made them elsewhere. Almost zero of my close friends went to high school with me. The local punk and hardcore scene was and still is home.

* * *

I'm going to Tarantino this blog and end at the beginning. I'll be 21 this Friday and though I may make small changes year to year, some things in me will always stay the same. I'll be 21 and I'll be "weird" for not drinking. And I will keep saying that it is okay not to drink. And I will always be straight edge. Count on it.

I wont drink, drink, drink and act like a fool.
So I can fit in with you
so that you'll think that I'm cool.
I wont take up a habit
people are dying to quit.
Or smoke some weed that'll make me an idiot.
And I'll cut my throat before I buy what they sell.
Straight edge for life until the day I die.
One look at this world makes being edge so easy.
I don't even have to,
don't even have to try.

Ether

Still think about him everyday.

This raised over $2000 for his family.

Family

Blurry...but you get it.

This is my favorite Cody

It was hailing. It hurt.

We playz da bideo gamezzz

This is true.

Celebrate Erie

Glass blower

Dr. Robotnic works at Taco Bell on lower Peach.

New Bad Brains vinyl for MEEEEEEEEE

New stadium seating and a new apartment! ...and another new girl for Tom ;-) I like.


Buy this shirt.

Nuevo bed dressins

Kate is a bigger hard ass than you. That's a huge dead bug.

BFF's really.


Just gave all my old rare holographic Pokemon cards to my cousin.


There's a real blog coming. Probably tonight.


P.S. Heard the new AFI song... friggin good!

Von Folfenbean

I'm gonna miss the hell out of you man. I love you.

Open My Mouth But Without A Sound

"This is my every day rise and shine. This is what it’s like to wake up blind. Maybe living restless has gotten the best. Or maybe life’s best is only found in rest."

Who's stoked?

There's A Lion In Your Gut

Bane is one of my Top 5 Favorite Hardcore Bands and apparently they're putting out a 7" in September and that is great fucking news cause they haven't put out anything new since The Note in '05. They posted a new song, "The Bold And The Beautiful", on their MySpace over the weekend. It's good, it's great. Sweet music, good lyrics [mixed with some cheesy ones but I'm fairly certain that everyone has come to expect a little cliche from Bane]

And upon further review, the new Set Your Goals album is still fuckin' good, the one new track Strike Anywhere posted a few weeks ago is also still good!

I'm still pretty much focusing on music to avoid over-analyzing the current state of things in my life, in my mind, in my heart.

This past weekend was 99% perfect, if that's possible? I spent the weekend with Brent, who is actually my oldest friend now, and Beard. We packed up drums and cymbals, guitars and amps, and some essential supplies [frozen pizzas and water] and ventured out to the Cabin on Friday afternoon. There is no cell service out there so we shut off our phone and were completely disconnected from the world. Liberated. Saturday we spent almost 12 hours recording BITER's first cd. It's going to be 6 tracks of pure evil. Erie is going to be pretty shocked I think. It's NOT hardcore.

Further highlights:

-I shot brent in the throat with a foam dart almost immediately upon arrival.
-Bat hunting
-Brent shot me in the chest/throat with a Roman Candle, burning a hole in my wind breaker.
-Beard: "Titties. Big, sweet ones"

All drum tracks are complete. All guitar tracks are complete. All vocal tracks are complete save one. Bass and remaining vocals will be complete tomorrow.



Get bit.

After all was said and done I came home to new sheets. Cause anywhere from 5 to 8 people fucked on my bed Friday night...together. You think you know some people. Coming home to shitty news is the worst.

What's worse? Having already low expectations of someone and being shocked by even lower acts? Or having high expectations and being surprised by lewd acts?

The whole scenario literally makes my sick to think about.





That's enough.