| Woah damn... |
[12 Oct 2009|12:23am] |
The worst thing in the world is to realize that the only person in heaven or hell that could possible have a copy of the manuscript you spent 4+ years working on is the only person in heaven or hell you'd rather have your eyes poked out with hot spikes and then crucified than talk to.
In other news...
No...that was really about it. IF any of my wonderful friends that read this happen to have a copy of the "And You Still Act Like You're In Freshman Year" manuscript...let me know...
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[06 Jul 2009|04:09pm] |
Stupid.
F-ing.
Brown.
Eyes.
What a waste of time...what a waste of time.
Stupid.
F-ing.
Green.
Eyes.
Not worth a damn...worth less than life.
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| Ben Franklin's Kite... |
[15 Dec 2008|10:31am] |
You know the day you always fear when you're in High School? The day you realize you really don't know the people you were friends with for those four years? The day you know that all the adventures and inside jokes and clothes and ideas and dances and romances are dead and gone? The day you log on to Facebook and see you have nothing in common with those people anymore?
That day's been here...I'm just finally accepting it. Even the people who are my "friends" here on livejournal really aren't, are they? We don't talk...we never write each other. Hell, I don't even know where most of you live anymore. But I hope you're all happy, regardless of what we've done to each other, or if we talk now.
Miss K...I read your livejournals and remember when we came to each other about feeling shitty about relationships and had stupid flirting that really meant nothing when it came down to it because we were too different for each other. I wish I knew what went on in your head again so I could at least talk to you...try to make you smile.
Miss L...I don't know where to begin. Your posts make me heartsick for that sweet, short time we were together. And at the same time, I want to stop you from being so angry...so hurt...because that's the only time you post. I know you don't need saving...at least, now I do. I hope you're ok.
That day is here...but you don't even read this, anyhow.
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| And Again... |
[08 Oct 2008|11:59pm] |
Give me one good reason
To repent like you say I should
To give in like you thought I would
Why I should cry
Give me one good reason
To ask you what I can do for you
Instead of how much you owe me, too
Why I should try
But you won't
Because there's never been a good one
But you won't
Because there will never be a good one
Give me one good reason
To beg and plead like you knew me to
To break and say how much I need you
One reason why
And give me one for the way you look
The way I can read you like my favorite book
And how I'm the one who is blamed the crook
One reason why
But you won't
Because there's never been a good one
But you won't
Because there will never be a good one
Give me one good reason
To repent like you say I should
To give in like you thought I would
Why I should cry
Give me one good reason
To ask you what I can do for you
Instead of how much you owe me, too
Why I should try
But you won't
Because there's never been a good one
But you won't
Because there will never be a good one
But you won't
Because there's never been a good one
But you won't
Because there will never be a good one
"No Amount Of Doom And Gloom Will Save You This Time"
Orange Sweater Music
2008
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| Coming Down... |
[05 Aug 2008|03:14pm] |
Baby's black balloon lets her fly
I almost fell into that hole in your life
You're not thinking about tomorrow
Cause you were the same as me
But on your knees
A thousand other boys could never reach you
How could I have been the one
I saw the world spin beneath you
And scatter like ice from the spoon
That was your womb
Coming down, the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer?
You know the lies they always told you
And the love you never knew
What's the things they never showed you
That swallowed the light from the sun
Inside your room
Coming down, the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer?
And there's no time left for losing
When you stand they fall
Coming down, the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer?
Coming down, the years turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I'll go on and lead you home now
All because I, all because
I'll become what you became to me.
"Black Balloon"
by
The Goo Goo Dolls
For a long time, that song was just...so a part of me. It's really destructive if you listen to it...it's about an addiction to heroin. Really...read it...really listen to it.
No, I wasn't a heroin addict.
But I was an addict. I sort of still am. I'm what I like to call an emotional maschoist.
Yes, it is common. No, it's not a fad. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I could change it. But I don't.
But all of you who read this know that already.
I'm a sucker for heartbreak. A sucker for pain. I'm a junkie for that high that comes from dismissal and goodbyes.
Kinda...
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| No Salary, So... |
[13 May 2008|11:23pm] |
I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle
All this misery pays no salary, so...
It's four years this summer since I left Sierra Vista...since I left home. And yet now...it's not home. It's nothing more than a city to me, now. Nothing's the same...not really. Sure, the roads still lead to the same places...the mall is still small...Denny's is still there.
But it's not home.
When I left home...I left home. I lost touch with that part of my life in a way that I can't explain. And, I'm sorry to say, it's permanent. I will never get the jokes that started after I left. I will never understand what happened between people. I will never be that same boy I was. Ever. It's gone. It's impossible. I can't go back.
But I don't want to. Not anymore.
If I hadn't left when I did...I'd be so much worse than I am now. We all know it. I would've tried to save the world and been drawn into something I couldn't escape. And as much as it hurt...I'm glad I left...in retrospect, at least.
Had someone told me that four years from that day, I'd be well off...that I'd be in college with a great bunch of friends...with a great girl...with a real shot at doing something great...I'd've ignored it and begged for another year in Sierra Vista.
I don't know what I saw in you anymore. And that sounds cold...but perhaps it's more of who you've become rather than who you WERE to me. What we were to each other. Who I was. Who knows.
I don't care anymore.
I love you all...you're my family.
But that's not home.
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| Not Again... |
[22 Feb 2008|01:01am] |
I'm not like him. I'm not like him. I promise, I'm not like him.
Age 9: That Legendary Divorce.
A huge tendency to write things out years before actually using them, giving the appearance of writing at the spur of the moment.
A huge tendency to exaggerate every childhood story.
A tendency to be emphatic to everyone, even to the extent of completely believing divorce to be one's own fault.
"I had a happy childhood, up until the age of 9."
Disregard for own happiness.
Horribly self-critical and self-deprivating.
I'm not like him. I'm not like him. I promise, I'm not like him.
But I don't know if I'll beat him to 28.
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| Holiday from Real... |
[18 Feb 2008|01:31am] |
Throughout my entire life, I've been the one left holding the bag. No, really. This isn't even self-pity...it's entirely true.
I remember having SO many chances to tell my father or Dr. Caren or SOMEONE that my mother was spending hours and hours on the computer at night on something called a chatroom. I didn't understand, but I'd come out for water and she'd shoo me away as quickly as she could. Something didn't feel right. But I trusted that things would be ok.
I remember being away all summer, calling her to tell her that I cared and loved her every chance I got. I wrote for her...to her...about her. And I get home to find out she had done something terrible while I was gone, afraid that she and I wouldn't last. But I trusted that things would be ok.
I remember leaving for good, crying my eyes out as they all grew smaller in the distance. I could only sing along with the mixtape she gave me before I left, hoping to God that I would see them again and things would be just the same that they always were. But I trusted that things would be ok.
I've always trusted that things would be ok. I've always had this optimisim that things could go my way. BUT THEY DON'T. It's the sad truth that smacks me in the face at every turn. Nothing that I see in my mind is real, is it? No hope or opportunity with these people.
I still imagine you're all laughing at me behind my back. That I'm the butt of every joke you throw out. That I'm only here to be ridiculed and talked down to.
What am I doing here? Why am I in college? Why am I at ASU?
You're not at UA. Maybe I should go there to clear my head. F. Maybe.
I remember having a kind of date for Valentine's Day this year. I trust that things will be ok. But I'm pretty sure it was out of pity and annoyance...nothing will come of it...nothing ever does. And it's not for lack of trying...it's that there's simply NO place for the guy that tries to have hope and optimism...the guy that keeps on going through the motions and keeps taking the punches.
The guy that could give you everything you could ever want if you'd just let your guard down and trust HIM for once.
But I trusted that things would be ok.
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| Go Ahead... |
[15 Jan 2008|11:03pm] |
Keep me in the dark. It's what you're all good at, isn't it? None of us every volunteer what's going on...especially when we fear it might hurt the other. I'd rather be hurt by what I know than killed by what I don't.
I'd rather.
What if I say I'm not like the others? What if I say I'm not just another one of your toys?
I'd rather.
But then, I don't know that anyone knows how I feel. Does anyone know what it's like to stand in the shadow of a man you'll never meet? I don't know for sure.
What if I say that I never surrender?
I'd rather.
Some of us are a little bitter about living a life that we can't win. I've searched the internet for the cheat codes. I've tried all the mini-games. I can't get a high enough score to purchase the next little level.
Keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend.
I'd rather.
What the hell. What the hell is wrong with you...with us. With anyone? With me? Why can't you just let go? Why can't I just let you go? What if I just closed my eyes...would you even still be there when they opened? Who knows. But I'm too scared to try.
But who are you?
I'd rather.
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| Agridulce |
[20 Dec 2007|11:23pm] |
I highly suggest to anyone that they actually listen to fully orchestrated Tango music. Astor Piazollo. His entire Tango Suite. Do it.
I'm sitting in my room for the first time in well...six months. I don't normally get to write here anymore. I'm usually in Tempe, in my dorm or at the computing commons...scribbling a fast note. Wonderful way to keep people updated, isn't it? I don't know that there's much to update people with, anyway. I'm really not an exciting person.
I read my friends page five minutes ago and found out Samantha was in LA. And semi-clean. I had no idea.
My room's a mess...Cobain's still up...so is Hendrix. And I don't know if they should be anymore. I don't know if I'm that apathetic or self-destructive lately.
It's 11:30pm on a Thursday night. I still don't drive. And I'm not doing much of anything, anyway. That is how my life shapes up when I'm at home.
Maybe I need to put away all these spaceships and pirate ships I have built out of LEGOs in my room. Maybe I need to grow up a little.
I still have your collage up on my wall, Christine. I know we don't talk, but it's been the first thing up in my room whenever I've moved since I last saw you. It really does make me happy...and people ask about it all the time.
But I think I'm going to take down the "Go Buena Fighting Colts" flag I have. It's silly, really, to still have it up. It was so long ago when I had that life. The one I have now is just so much different. Yes, there are still people here from the other one, but it's all so...different. Did I already say that? Of course I did.
But really...Andante by Piazollo. Do it.
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| You |
[19 Nov 2007|02:15pm] |
You're such a coward. I hope you know that.
Well, ladies and gentlemen...or whoever actually finds this...welcome to a stalemate of life. I did not get into the School of Music (if you're surprised you're a liar). I don't have any idea of what I can do with myself now. I don't have any ambition. No job. Nothing. Not a thing. Scratch that...I have a couple of FRIENDS.
Christ how I hate that word.
And a huge amount of writer's block to get through. I don't even know why I bother anymore. Really.
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| Just A Couple Of Young Punks... |
[26 Sep 2007|01:23pm] |
Just A Couple Of Young Punks...
"You see, life is like that. We change, that's all. You see, the guy I am now is not the guy I was then. If the guy I was then met the guy I am now he'd beat the shit out of me. Those are the facts."
-Steveo, SLC Punk!
For years, I have tried to really grasp what punk is. I was lost between the politics, the clothes, and the lifestyle…so lost that it's taken four years since the first time I heard the chords of "Blitzkrieg Bop" to finally figure it all out. So, to all of you who have asked me what punk is, here's your answer: Punk is simply the will to die a little faster.
First of all…to all my friends who will comment with, "yes, I'm glad you finally realized that", or, "tell me something I don't know": Fuck you. None of us knew. We came so close to getting it…we really did. When Eric died…that's when we almost learned…that's when there was a split in our little punk world. Some of us, myself included, woke up and knew things couldn't go on that way. Some of us feel deeper into destruction and chaos. I'm not condemning anyone…we all had to do what we had to do And that was the first time we learned the true nature of the world we so desperately lived for. Sure, we had always known about the deaths of the punks before us, but we always swore it wouldn't be us.
But that is the nature of punk, isn't it? Born to a generation discontent with pop and a cold war…punk was something new…the true voice of the adolescent rebellion. Anarchist philosophy in place of the governments we'd come to believe as war-hungry and oppressive. Plaid and boots in place of the mass produced GAP world that fed corrupt economies. Drugs and booze in our veins and blood on our fists from trying to feel alive…to know we were really alive as the rest of the world drowned in the mundane. How absurd does that all sound now? A whole society based on the idea of fighting all others? It's no wonder we're not poised to charge the world, much less live past the age of 27. It's no wonder that punk is dead…it strives to kill itself.
And where are the incarnations of punk now? Lost to history. It's a coffee table book that documents a violent time for the world. It's a movie that cycles from the birth of punk to the death of innocence, stressing that we'll all "sell-out" eventually. Punk has become a taboo fashion statement sold at Hot Topic and Wal*Mart. Joey Ramone must turn over in his grave when his music is sold at a Best Buy. Punk isn't punk anymore…even the music is gone. Self-acclaimed punk bands give us one quick burst of teenage rebellion before turning into whines about how life is too hard and that we should all give up on love. When life was too hard to punk…punk fought back even harder. None of this "screaming infidelities" shit.
So punk dies out. But I don't see how it can when a whole generation is crying out for change and rebellion…but then again…most that cry out can't stomach the idea of fighting in a pit. None have the fists to deal with the consequences. Fear, it seems, has conquered the once fearless. Those once ready to get a bloody nose now spend hours caking on make-up and the perfect scene outfit. Punk is no longer a life…it is an event to look your best at…a popularity contest based on who you know in the band (10 points for a drummer…30 for a vocalist). Grow your balls back, kids. It doesn't have to be this way. Who needs to live to be 86? Let's get dying.
Charlie's Back
Peace, Love, Unity…
-Sloth Mcgee
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| Safety Net... |
[27 Jun 2007|10:49pm] |
There's a part of me that is SO glad that you don't know this journal. It's my last outpost that you never see or read or hear about. Wonderful, right?
I used to have big hopes and dreams. I used to believe I'd find my way to the right world and that things would work out. I used to see magic in simple things. It takes a lot for that to happen now.
Fuckin' Lame.
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| Sanctuary |
[23 Feb 2007|01:36am] |
It's so re-assuring to know that people rarely read this. And that none of these ASU kids know about this site. Good God.
I haven't written here since before I started classes at Arizona State. I don't know if there has ever been a more lonely time in my life. Don't get me wrong, I have friends...and the friends I have are more than I could ever ask for. But these nights...these nights where all I have is myself locked inside a cold room...it's a wonder I survive. These nights when I'm miles away from family. These nights when I'm miles away from friends. These nights when I'm so alone. These nights when happy songs can't save me. These nights...
I don't know what I'm going to do if the next four years are going to be like this. I don't know what I'm going to do if I can't get out of this digusting feeling of remorse, depression, and apathy. Nothing feels good anymore. There's no feel good energy...and I doubt that anyone here really knows who I am...or would accept who I am. It's the worst feeling in the world.
...I've thought twice about dropping out...
I don't know why. I just have. I just thought about packing up and leaving and going...who knows where. But then I remember that I have a life that I'm trying to build and an education I'm trying to earn. I remember that I'm here to prove I can do whatever I want to do.
College cliqs are even more hardcore than High School. Here you don't have to work in groups with people you don't like...you just skip the class or some bullshit like that. Everyone is in a Sororitiy or a Fraternity. Everyone is into drinking and partying. Everything feels fake at one point or another. EVERYTHING.
I don't know...
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| Don't mind these |
[16 Jul 2006|12:02am] |
Snippets for new projects:
And even though it's midnight
And it's 100 degrees outside
You have his sweatshirt on
You have his sweatshirt on
Because you know though he's away
He can feel you when you wear it
You have his sweatshirt on
You have his sweatshirt on
I woke up to the scent of dryer sheets
Your smile still in my mind
The sun was shining brightly
But the last light we saw, a different kind
And here I am
So afraid of what you'll say
If I say anything
If I say anything
And there you are
Your game I cannot play
If I say anything
If I say anything
A phone call's what I get
You said you won't forget
But here I am all alone
And it's so dangerous
When I hope for a chance for us
Cause everything gets put on hold.
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| New Story |
[20 Jun 2006|07:40pm] |
(Reposted from my Myspace Blog)
Dear Everyone,
As you know (well, unless you don't), I spent my last summer writing a series of short stories based on a music album. They became "A Night in the North", based off Something Corporate's "North". Twelve stories that seemed somewhat troubled, while also appealing to love, friendship, and having a second chance. I greatly appreciated how well you all recieved them. I daresay you even liked them.
This summer will be no different. However, instead of a series of short stories, it will be one work with different chapters. The tenative title is "In The Summer." It will follow a boy through a summer that will change the rest of his life. And, like last summer, the story will be directly based on an album. Which one? I won't tell you just yet.
But I'll give you hints. Expect a girl with a strange last name, Venice, lies, and The Beach Boys.
Yours,
Christopher
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| I'm Ok. |
[12 Jun 2006|11:26am] |
So here I am.
It's starting to seriously look like I'll be attending ASU or NAU this fall. I'm excited as hell. I'm really thinking about being a teacher...for music or drama...or just to teach. I still don't know. I'm 18 and I have an idea...but that's it.
I just...I just want my turn, you know? I want to prove everyone wrong and have them say "Wow, Chris really can do this." I want people to look at me differently...in a good way for once. I don't want to be the guy who causes drama or the guy who can't hold a relationship down. I don't want to be the guy who calls after two years and wants something again anymore. I don't want to be the writer who gets misunderstood all the time.
I just need to find my purpose, I guess. And right now, it's not right in front of me. And I'm really, REALLY, loving that. I love not knowing what's gonna happen...who's gonna happen. I only know that I'm really going to make something of myself. I'm going to be...new. A fresh-faced kid ready to be smacked around by the real world so I can be like "Hey...fuck that...I'm gonna be better."
Today, I woke up...and I wasn't jealous of all my friends that have someone. I woke up and said to myself, "I'm ok." I don't think I've said that in a long time and honestly meant it. I'm Ok. I'm not shitty. I'm not jealous. I'm not depressed.
I'm O-fucking-k. How amazing.
Am I ok enough to talk with certain people? No...not yet. Which is somewhat annoying in my own mind. But...things take time. And I'm ok with that.
So kids...drop me a line. Tell me what you're doing with yourselves (unless you're doing what I think you're doing...I don't think I...or the internet for that matter...need to know that you're doing THAT).
Yeah.
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| Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2006... |
[19 May 2006|11:21pm] |
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters.
Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
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| From Myspace... |
[17 May 2006|11:09pm] |
Stop. Just stop everything for one second. Stop worrying. Stop thinking. Stop hurting. Just stop. I can't take this anymore. Nobody could.
Our last day of High School is the day after tomorrow. Oh my god...it's right there. Right there. Burning in front of us like a golden dream. The end is right here. But none of us are together to enjoy it. Not really. We've all already broken away. Our family is broken. And if we can't even stay together throughout High School...who's gonna be left to see each other at reunions?
I'm going to say it again. I'm so fucking scared. Of graduation. Of growing up. Of losing more of you. We're graduating, you guys. This is supposed to be our last big adventure together. Where we can spend the last days absolutely together because after next Thursday...everything changes again. And it's not just me moving or someone dating someone new or someone moving in. It's going away. It's really leaving each other.
I know I'm not the best friend any of you has ever had. But you all are mine. You're my family. My safety. The people I run to when all hell is breaking loose. Because even then...even when we've been fighting...you've all saved me. You've pulled me through. And this is my turn. I just want...I wanna know that for a moment...for a day...for an hour...you all were a family again. It shouldn't matter about past fights...or who's dating who. Just stop. Just for an hour. And be together.
Because...well...we all said we'd be best friends forever. We all said that we'd be ready at graduation to be screaming our lungs out for each other. But if the present is any indication...there's no time we'll all be together again. God. That fucking breaks my heart.
Just stop. Just for an hour. And be together. Because who knows when...if...we'll ever get the chance again. Please. Just for an hour. Let's be those dumb-fuck Freshmen who had no idea what was gonna happen. Who didn't know that we'd be estranged from each other in our Senior year. Let's be those kids. Not who we are now.
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon. Don't you see that anymore? And if we're supposed to be friends forever...we have to fix things. Now.
Just stop. I love you. Just stop.
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| Yeah |
[17 May 2006|08:02pm] |
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So me and a few kids I know...we decided to randomly graduate next week. Sound good? I thought so.
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