I thought of a challenge!!!

So! Here it is: what do you believe to be your inner age and why?
You, you, you, and you better answer!

Here's my answer:

I am 4. And here's why:
1. I enjoy the simple things in life such as: ice cream cones, playing little pranks on people (like putting a ball of lint in their hair and not telling them), skipping down the side walk, sleeping, dancing funny dances (usually involves interpreting weird actions or just a lot of unnecessary ass shaking), and, above all else, laughing.

2. I have very immature humor (aka I think poop is funny).

3. I have entered (or realized) a stage of intense nihilism, which I believe is something children do. They have their fun, they don't know why, and frankly they don't care, because they're having fun.

4. When all else fails, I resort to violence. You can hardly call it violence though because I don't think I have enough strength to actually inflict pain on anyone, just like a small child beating on their little sister.

5. Any time that it rains and the sun comes out afterwards, I go searching for rainbows. Oh, and worms.

6. If I could, I would spend all day, every day at the beach, which is the exact same wish that I had as a youngin'.

7. I don't like having responsibility - I'd rather just watch t.v.... well that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much...

8. I love being dirty. It makes me feel as if I've accomplished something through hard work. Really though, I just don't like showering.

That little he-she on the right is still the person I am today... ah to be four. Good times. Forever.

My spirit animal?

Maybe... who knows. What I do know is that his name is Louellen. He enjoys blue slushies, cool ranch doritos, and sky diving. Oh, and he's single, so keep an eye out for him.

What Brings Ultimate Joy Into My Life is as Follows:

Yep. Martin Dosh. I have never had a less-than-amazing time at any of his shows. From the first one witnessed in Hymee's (sp?) Basement about 5 years ago with about 15-20 other people in the room, to last night at a semi-packed First Ave I am repeatedly brought to the brink of something or another - I think life. I told Martin once that his music makes me feel more than alive, and that is most definitely not an exaggeration.

The other groups were pretty fucking bad-ass too. Kill the Vultures and P.O.S. totally blew me away considering I have been considerably turned off to hip-hop lately for some reason. These guys are not your run of the mill hip-hop though. Check their myspace's and listen to some tunes, you won't be disappointed!

So, last night was once again an incredibly joyous experience. It ended with a lovely trip to Little Tijuana's to stuff my face with fajita and various cheeses and squeeze my girl Amy who looked sleepy and sunkissed. I must say it was a very good way to spend a Friday night.

Baby Jack!

This little guy just turned one! His name is Jack and he is just as bubbly, smiley, and adorable as his wonderful parents: Jessica and Chris. This photo was taken in the winter, so he's grown a lot since then, and he's just as cute as ever. And now he's walking! I wish I was Jack so that I could have parents like Jess and Chris - I would be doted upon, get the shit loved out of me, and get to do all sorts of fun stuff, like be in the presence of Jessica and Chris at all times.

At 9:00 tonight I'm driving up to New London with my buds Dylan and Travis to celebrate this wee one's birth - I will do so by drinking with his aunts and uncles. Best 1 year old party ever...

I LOVE THE BILBEN/DEANS!

The First Beach Trip...

Yesterday Nathan and I ventured to Hidden Beach - the most glorious of beaches in Minneapolis. There are trees, forest, a mud pit, hippies playing bad music (upright bass, guitar, FLUTE - wooden flute, mind you...), screaming naked children, and a whole lot o' hipsters. Okay, so maybe the scene is a little silly, but the beach itself is great, and there are less screaming children than there are on Calhoun or Harriet, so I'm content. And there's less sand in my mouth. But I must say, they hippie crowd is quite entertaining. The true hippies stake their claims around the perimeter of the beach so that they can smoke their pot in peace without the bicycle cops getting on their case. Sometimes the hippies join forces on their "life-giving" music and that's when the bongo-beat gets so much more enlightening. Other times, the hippies roam about and pick up discarded cigarette butts or bitch about people putting improper items in the recycling bins. All in all, they're entertaining, even if they're annoying.

After braving the early-summer-kinda-cold water, Nathan and I settled into the sand to dry in the 8:00pm not-so-bright sun. I proceeded to pile random things on him: twigs, sand, bark, stones, other twigs, a cigarette butt (he drew the line there...) etc. I came upon a very thin, very straight stick which I was using to badger dear Natey-Poo about something or another. And then I realized - it was an incense stick. Fucking hippies...

And so this is summer...

Here I sit. Mid-afternoon. Summer days string together; I actually asked someone what day it was yesterday. Another thing about summer is that every night is saturday: aka every night can be a party if you want it to be.

This is what Nathan and I did on a "saturday" night:
(Nathan's, Kitty's)
Poem #1
God Kog
drifting drunkard
Falling forward
falter.
I don't know
how to...
kill vultures
reach god
drop life
live free
die quickly.
I squirm complacently.
While suckling my indecency,
Geared up junkies
lay in broken branches
dancing fancy dances
laying in lust
I think about your
mouth.
You lay on your stomach,
closed. My
hands clenched.
I fear death
I fear breath
Bust yearn for both
space lace
swallowing my brainstorms;
I walk away.
It will only be a moment.
Fearing failures
I jumped
the shifting ship
but fell prey to
the eight armed octagon
scuttled by and
made me quiver.
And that was the
day
I called my own.

Poem #2: Welcome, this is the Point.
I fell asleep frantically;
cutting through corn fields.
All was mud.
Bleak beguiled boys
stealing pulls of whiskey
stealing thoughts of...
leopard print...hats
fucking leaping lads
with withering hairlines
clutch at my ankles.
They beg for acceptance...
or pity. I'm not sure,
that's true for most things.
What's over there?
God
laying humorless
and hung
hungry for humor
inverted and content.
This screen glows blue,
giving most things.
I relent and withhold;
I reject and am sold
ink pools
eating fools

Village Wok Moment

I went outside for what I thought was going to be a relaxing cigarette break. The moment I stepped out the door I heard the distinct sound of retching. Great. There was your average college dude-bro wasted of off $2.00 pitchers at the bar Big 10 that's next to our restaurant. His friends were scattered around laughing. I try to avert my eyes, but vomiting is just one of those things that is repulsing and enthralling at the same time.

After awhile, he moved to a chair. We all thought he was done. Alas, he was not. He proceeded to puke on his shoes and the exclaim,

"I'm making it rain! It's my birthday, man, I'm supposed to puke!"

His friends laugh. After his last vomit bout, he yells,

"I wanna smoke some pot! Let's go home... or let's go drink more beer!"

I was down to the butt of my cigarette, they were walking back into the bar... what a delightful way to spend my few moments of respite...

Can I be a "Rock Star"?

As many of you know, I've had dreams of being in a band for quite some time now. A friend of mine recently asked me to audition to be the singer for his band. I was scared shitless. The opportunity I'd been waiting for was here and in turn, it terrified me.

So, of course, I avoided him until I couldn't anymore.

Yesterday, post serious badgering from the bassist in the band, I relented and went to go sing with the dudes. Now here's the deal: they have about 10 songs written (instrumentals) and I would be responsible for writing lyrics/vocal melody. That doesn't sound so bad right? Wrong. Because I would need to have this done in about, oh... 2 weeks. Maybe less. Crazy. They want to record and play at least 4 shows by mid August.

I show up at the "space" after stressing out all day. I'd only heard their songs once, I've never "jammed" before, I've never really sung rock music before, some of the guitar parts are really melodic so I have a hard time creating new melodies over that, it's super loud and my mic isn't loud enough... this list of problems for me goes on and on. As a result of those "problems" (which probably weren't problems for the guys and I was just freaking out) I felt like an ass after two and half hours of "la la la - ing". Fuck. Those were the most stressful two and a half hours of my life.

So my question is, how does a singer jam? Cause I sure as hell don't know how to do it.