Okay.........

Here's a real post:


Here I sit, in the Peace House in Oaxca City. Yup, that's right, Kadd and I shuffled on down the bunny trail. And we are both very exhausted at this point. (Hey, how many nights can one spend sleeping on bus, and still have a refreshed demeanor?)

Last night we indeed hopped onto a bus and pulled in here at the wee crack of dawn. However, our last few moments in Ole Puerto Escondido were not without adventure. In the near distance from the beach by our hostel, one could see an enormous raise of rocks, with a large stone lighthouse on top. Needless to say, we were determined to conquer this natural monument before the big goodbye. Kadd asked how we could get there, and we were assured that it was a mere half hour trot down the paved road......Which is surely true, in some reality, but not this one. We ended up leaving the paved road, which actually turned into this very odd, rustic, surfer-tourist enclave replete with little straw hut hotel, restaurant, and surf shop. However, past this was the beach, which lead straight to a vertical climb of massive, wet, rocks....Not so much was this the path we intended to tread. So, after many many many wrong turns and two encounters with the same very unleashed, very angry guard dog (fun city), we found ourselves confronted by another dirt dead end, this one surrounded by barbedwire. However, there was also a small native woman in her bra, who was more than happy to tell us about a path that led AROUND all of the private property and down to the beach. Even this we did not initially trust since it took for EVAR. However in the end we were in fact, led down to the beach once more. An area of the beach roughly the same distance from where we wanted to be on the OTHER side from where we started. So, after some fun sand high jinx, we walked down the beach BACK to the large vertical, wet, climb of rocks again. We eventually found a place safe enough to begin the climb, and up we went like little mountain squirrels. We were met at the top with two things: one, being huge thorn bushes and two, some very wealthy person's backyard. Between a maybe less than lucky climb back down, reenacting some of christ's wounds, and going bandit style, we chose stealthy trespassing. Now Kadd SWEARS that he saw guards at several points (I don't need to tell you how alot of the economies work around here), and we decided that, if caught, we would play the idiot gringo card. Fortunately, this never came up. Which was AMAZING considering that the ENTIRE trip took place between a steep, thorny, rocky cliff, and the very near doorsteps, of the very private property, of the very questionably wealthy people of the area. At last we reached the precipice, and stared down at the conquered lands atop the actually, not very large stone lighthouse. We eventually found a way down very close by, and trotted along the beach back "home" just in time to take off for our bus. Stupidity paid off in the end however, and here's the proof:

<3

Paulo Manu Nicole

Bad scene, everyone's fault..

*IF YOU ARE MY MOTHER AND FATHER, YOU WILL NOT WANT TO READ THIS, SO PLEASE SKIP DOWN TO THE STARS*

No pretty pictures, no witty banter. Just the funniest damn story of the trip so far. So, last night we went with Paulo, Nicole, and Manu, who drive El Barko del Amor, to a birthday party for a friend of theirs. It should be noted that this is a TOTALLY different world than the one Kadd and I inhabit. This is the world of wealthy, pretty, party people, and it is a far far cry from home. We eventually roll up to this small bar, for the festivities, that is well stocked with an international congregation of Calvin Klein models, replete with all expected douchebaggery. Though it was funny that right out of the box I made friends with this guy who came up and said,"Your shirt-It is something about metal yes?" He was an Italian, (there are maaany), now living mostly in LA, but you know, globe trotting, who also was very into metal. He was thrilled to find a new "brother" (I just assume he meant "Brother of true metal" as a Manowar reference, but who knows). So for a while, we excitedly geek out about metal in a way that looked less like we both spoke English, and more like two people frantically trying to communicate through impromptu sign language.

Of course, he eventually politely excused himself to go say hi to some other friends. And that's when it happened. About fifteen minutes after I get to this fantasy island Vanity Fair soiree, a well coiffed beach Aussi(?)(Kadd and I argued about this, since it was very hard to make out what she was saying. And I swore English was not her first language....But hey, I'm sure to an Aussi, the same could be said about my deep southern american family....) strolls over, leans down, and says (and I'm paraphrasing abit here),"It's a shame to waste this time of day; we should use the condoms I have in my purse before they expire." The look you have on your face could not be half as precious as the one mine formed into as I tried to wrap my head around the reality of what had just happened.

Again, I do not live in this world.

Do I sleep with people? Yes. Do I like to sleep with people? Of course. Am I conservative in how that happens? No. HOW-EV-ER. This is nooooot my typical modus operandi by any stretch of the imagination. The only time something like this REMOTELY happened, the woman in question had to be pretty darn persistent before I caved. But I digress, back to the moment, as it happened.

Well, of course my brain froze. "Would you care for a coffee,""Do you know what time it is,""I like your pants,""You are a really good dancer," Yes, But,"Hello. We fuck now." Holy. Shit. There is always that little voice in the back of your head that says,"Go ahead, do it." But instead, keeping more with my tradition, I apparently blurted something out like,"I don't think so....." (I had to have Kadd repeat it to me, since I had no real recollection) This apparently is not an appropriate response in said style of transaction. To which she snapped,"You don't know what you are talking about!" and stormed off. It was all we could do; all we could do to keep from crying, and pissing ourselves with laughter right then and there. Kadd, and I, wide eyed like we had just been threatened with a gun, began to go through the "holy shit!" conversation that was sure to follow. The final verdict: unbelievable! We had just landed on planet Senor Frogs, where BJ's are on the appetizer menu right between nachos and jager bombs. And of course, everything is paid for with daddy's credit card..................

Oh, what a night.

**************************************************************************************
Okay Mom and Dad it's safe to pick up here:

So, tonight we depart. We hit land, and leave our Fantasy Island adventure for more urban treasures. I will miss the the ocean, the sand, Paulo, Manu, Nicole, El Barko del Amor, El Jardin, wealthy gringo douchebags, an every thing else about this place. But as the sun sinks below the tide, we will be off to Oaxca City. Only for a day, maybe two, and then we hop over to DF for the remainder of our time in Mexico. It's certainly been an interesting journey so far, and I'm curious to see what happens next........

Holy hot ham and cheese on rye Batman....

Is it sweltering here.......

31 frikin degrees, but I swear it feels like it's fifty.........

It's just one of those periods where the body has been broken, and the mind is cooked. Not much to be done in that type of situation, but, as the kids say, "chill."

My insomnia has gone through the roof trying to sleep in this atmosphere, but still and all it's great to be in beautiful Puerto Escondido



Apparently this place is internationally known for surfing. I guess that's why all the d00ds here look like they are playing for keeps.....

I still love the quirky El Barko del Amor where we are staying. They offer dinner, and so last night we thought we'd take them up on that. It's great (for us) that there aren't many people staying there. And the three people who run it, try to make it feel more like you are staying with some chill friends, instead of some random hostel. We all ate together, and and just kicked it for a while. The food was plentiful and awesome. And they totally understood that we were vegan, and cooked accordingly. Favorite quote of the the night (all in Espanol): Me,"Sorry, but I don't speak very much Spanish..," Woman (one of the owners),"That's okay, I don't speak much English." Okay not so funny now, but if you had been there......... Tonight there is supposed to be some big party there, and Kadd and I are both horribly intrigued.

I have of course been drawing more. It's funny because with enough free time to feel the urge to do SOMETHING, drawing has been my constant source of happiness. What this means I have no idea, but it could be another important piece of the puzzle...

In the meantime, like I said, it's too hot to think, not to mention write. (As I'm sure the simplistic meandering of this entry proves). I leave you then, with more pix:

The Beach:





Our Neighbors:


Everybody Loves:




Our Neighbors:


And of Course:





Love, exciting and new
Come Aboard. We're expecting you.
Love, life's sweetest reward.
Let it flow, it floats back to you.

Love Boat soon will be making another run
The Love Boat promises something for everyone
Set a course for adventure,
Your mind on a new romance.

Love won't hurt anymore
It's an open smile on a friendly shore.
Yes LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! It's LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! (hey-ah!)

Love Boat soon will be making another run
The Love Boat promises something for everyone
Set a course for adventure,
Your mind on a new romance.

Love won't hurt anymore
It's an open smile on a friendly shore.
It's LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! It's LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! It's
LOOOOOOOOOOOVE!
It's the Love Boat-ah! It's the Love Boat-ah!

And then I suddenly found myself on the Love Boat....

*Amusing explanatory photo not found*

But I do have this:


So, after what was falsely purported to be the most vomitously horrible trip turned out to be the best bus ride I have ever taken, Kadd and I suddenly found ourselves surrounded by beautiful Gringo Beach (or whatever it's "official" name is). We were quickly met at the buss station by a woman handing out fliers for a hostel, and that, we decided, was that.

When we got out of the cab we saw a strange brick, quirky, junior high, red, pink, and heart....painted building. A loud and welcoming voice beaconed us to come in....And suddenly we were surrounded by a group of attractive women giving us keys to our room...in a hostel called...."The Love Boat." I'll give you more pix later, but in the meantime, here is my view from the balcony:


And after about a three minute walk, I hit the most hella trill ocean that I have ever seen. From the gingo strip it looks something like this:


I have not gone swimming in years....I never swim....so I am enjoying the hell out

of playing the role of beach bum as opposed to black metal scumfuck for a while. No tight pants, no hoodie, no metal shirt.....Just navy blue swim trunks (well...and more often than not, big black shades....What can ya do?). I've been working on my sunburn, and I think it's coming along quite well...However I will STILL not fit in with the average crowd here (which is my life's goal..) comprised mostly of painfully well chiseled, uber attractive, men and women, who are serious surfers with serious money. Don't get me wrong, I hang out with my fair share of douchebags, but a very specific type of douchebag who I feel comfortable around. At any rate, it is rather amazing to be here, AND I certainly can't wait to get back to the water.......


In the meantime, you can hear me rant like an idiot on Kadd's great blog:
Here

Chiapas (Week Two) from Joshua Stephens on Vimeo.
I would say more, but um....I'm at the beach?...So deal with that

Well, well, well

I'm finally off to Oaxca; frightening isn't it?:




But not as frightening as either that picture of the 16 hour bus ride I am about to go on.......

I will miss you San Cristobal. I will miss you Casa del Pan. I will miss you other place owned by the people who own Casa del Pan. I will miss you Kinoki. I will miss you hostel that should probably be called "The Contact High." I hope you all die of a terrible plague idiotic, cracker, hippies...........

From here I am off to the beach. To what exactly I have no idea, nor do I know when I will be able to get on the interwebz again. But when I do, you will know......


Ta-ta for now.....

I said....

My eyes are DOWN HERE!

Anywho, weeks in the middle of San Cristobal feel like months...I can't really remember a time when I was not here. When my days weren't filled with tofu, tortillas, americanos (not many places here serve "coffee"..), hours of internet cafes and everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, the hideous pariah that a friend of a friend geniusly termed:"trustafarians." (For the uninitiated, many of us purport all downwardly mobile romantics to have a twin sibling named "Trust-Fund," and usually we are right......The ACTUALLY poor find this to be incredibly endearing, and long for the days when they are so privileged that they can CHOOSE to never shower, wallow around in shit-stained clothes, and eat from garbage cans..............)

Nothing much new here, except going to a real, honest to god, terrifying(!), shopping mall to get swim trunks...Oh and maybe eating at a restaurant that had a real live (and quite haggard) chicken wandering around talking to itself:



Today we did manage to break the monotony up by going to the market to get many a very fresh vegetable (and then trap me in a terrifying warehouse of all manner of dead, rotting, and completely NOT SAFE FOR CONSUMPTION fish. Bags of fish, tables of fish, stacks and stacks of fish.....I nearly ralphed...Until we got to the exposed innards of other animals sitting around on tables in an un-ventilated warehouse part of the trip.....Peta should maybe invest in sending people here to quell their meat habits instead of constantly competing with American Apparel for the title of,"Worlds Biggest Child Molester".....), and then scurried over to our friend Kristin's house to make a big ole pot of soup while we listened to podcasts of Fair Game and UFOnaut Radio (yessssss!!)

I suppose I have been drawing again, which makes me happy:





Kadd and I were trying to push our flight back so we could leave Mexico a little earlier, and stay in San Francisco a little longer, but this was simply not economically feasible..........So, here I sit, in an internet cafe, surrounded by hippies and a language I can still barely speak......welllllll....maybe I'll draw for a bit.....

Lost in Tr.....*oh fuck that*....

Sometimes, when like me, you are a super pinche gringo, sometimes you try to do things and it just doesn't work out the way you wanted to. I was in a cafe and I was just like staring at the wall thinking about everything
But then again I was thinking about nothing
And then the server came over and I didn't even know she was there she called my name
And I didn't even hear it, and then she started going: hello!
And I go:
What, what's the matter
And she goes:
Can I get something for you?
I go:
Nothing please
And she goes:
Don't tell me nothing, you're on drugs!
And I go:
No I'm not on drugs I'm okay, I was just thinking you know, why don't you get me a bottle of water.
And she goes:
NO you're on drugs!
I go:
No I'm okay, I'm just thinking about getting a bottle of water.
She goes:
No you're not thinking, you're on drugs! Normal people don't act that way!
I go:
Mam just give me a bottle of water please
All I want is a bottle of water, and she wouldn't give it to me
All I wanted was a bottle of water, just one water, and she wouldn't give it to me.
Just a water.




And apparently, somehow I'd ordered a mate.....Now I'm really not sure how in our conversation the confusion over what I had said had turned into,"yes, okay mate," but I damn sure wasn't going to argue with that. Sure beats the fields of coffee I've been drinking......

Though I've been fighting with insane insomnia here for the past week, today was pretty good. After spending a dreary half day in said same interwebz cafe, I up and went for a walk....I went all around the main part of San Cristobal. I went by the store that houses the collective of indigenous people who make their own very hip paper, pads, posters, books, etc, out of fairly renewable resources and picked up a few neat things. Then I strolled around until I found a place to grab a new pen (a nice double ended sharpie to be exact)...

Let me deviate for a moment here. Purchasing things in Mexican stores can be very confusing, especially if you are not well versed in the language. First you find someone to help you, and you tell them what you want. Then they take said item, and write you a ticket. Then you take that ticket to a tinted (god knows, bulletproof) enclosed booth where a phantom hand takes the ticket, and tells you how much you owe. THEN you take that ticket, and give it to a person in a similar, non-tinted booth, where they finally give you your item......You know, in the US, we just carry guns to deal with shrinkage.......

Anywho, once you get used to that, throwing your soiled toilet paper in the trash instead of the bowl is a cake walk......So then I went to Tierrardentro to grab another AMAZING soy burger (probably soy from a cow in reality.........) some fries, and maybe a little drawing.......in my fancy new handmade and drawing book.......And then, after a great Americano (I know, but here they are quite potent...It's more like
ordering you espresso "biggie size"), I hit the stones to join Kadd at Kinoki. After trotting this out, and finishing my mate, all the while listening to my favorite episode of the "Monday Night 80's" podcast (the Halloween episode, like *DUH*) I think I'll head into the little theatre to catch David Lynch's last film........."And finally I'll sleep-I'll sleep through the niiiiight!!"

The next time I come to Mexico I need a job and fluency

So.........now that I have this free time in Mexico, what have I been doing?.......Well, apparently spending alot of time on the interwebs.........

Today for example, I spent HOURS downloading killer music from download blogs that specialize in obscure, underground, and out of print music. Alot of these people meticulously research, rip (mostly from vinyl!), and upload alot of cherished music from their personal collections.

The reason that I am posting about this here instead of Auralsuppository is that John and I have an agreement to only talk about records we have actually purchased, which I totally agree with. However, most of these records are out of print (and Manowar does not need my money).

So, after sorting out two records that I already had on my computron, but not had labeled (an out of print live Iron Lung record, and the unofficial Fear of God discography (holyshitamazing!!1111)) here is what I spend my hard earned time in another country down loading:

Cruel Atake-Demo
D.O.N.D.O.N.-Skulls EP
Final Count-Flexi EP
Impaled Nazarene - Soumi Finnland Perkele
Korihor/Abigainl- Alkoholik Metal Blasphemers
Manowar-Gods of War ('07-The most Ridiculous yet. Like an Asatru children's record)
Nifelheim - Envoy of Lucifer (soooooogoooooooood)
Surrender of Divinity-Oriental Hell Rhythmics (Thai Black Metal1111)
VA Consolidation 7"-Rhetoric/Revulsion/Deviated Instinct
Gouka-Answer in One's Self
Gibbed-Demo (?) (Maybe members of Unholy Grave......)

And then I devolved into watching 3 Inches of Blood videos (Hey whatever, did you see the Manowar record?......)

Who knows, maybe if I stay in Mexico long enough I'll be the world's most well versed music nerd..................I'll get mad dates then................................

Not much new...

Just some photos:





Becoming a bit restless, but that's more of an existential conundrum................

The best laid plans of mice and men

Sometimes change a fucking lot:


So, here I sit, in an internet cafe, in my mind, miles away from the school in Oventic. Kadd and I, unable to overcome the "6th grade lunchroom" dynamic of the other students, and running low on funds, among other things, have departed early to advance our trip to the next leg.

The people that live in the Caracole were great, and many of the experiences will be forever important to my life, but for now, we got all we could from the most important period of our vacation.

It should be noted however, that we were all able to bond during a brief period a few nights ago.

Let me back up abit, and talk about last Thursday. April 10th is a huge holiday for the Zapatistas, what with it being the day Emiliano Zapata was assassinated and all. There were no classes that day, however there were rehearsals for a theatre piece we had split into three groups to write, direct, and perform in the cultural part of the celebrations. We worked on this off and on between eating copious amounts of wonderfully gross, state-fair style food, and watching the never-ending basketball tournament (holy shit do Zapatistas LOVE basketball. Like up at five AM on the courts love..). Beyond the food, and b-ball, there was music, and dancing, and a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooong speech read by the buengobierno (in Castillano, and then in Tzotzil. Which seemed as though, as Kadd put it, the guy read out a list of every word in the language..) Performing in front of all those people was great. Although it was funny when I said "Todos", referring to the people, and they THOUGHT I said "Torros," not so much referring to the people......Hey, you try yelling clearly and concisely in another language while wearing a pasamantana......

They might speak in a low, slow, monotone while giving speeches, but I'll be damned if the Zapatistas don't throw down when it's time to party. As the band struck up, the kids hit the floor like they were storming a military base. And I mean tight too. What in the EE.UU. we would call,"all up in my personal space." And with a tempo fast enough, and relentless enough to break through the space time continuum, we got it on for about two hours non-stop. I do believe these people could out last any well experienced DJ night hipster, oh, about five times over. I smiled long and large enough to broadcast my missing teeth in to space.

Well you know me. The band said good night, everyone scattered, and we all went back to the dorm. This would not be enough for Captain Junior Party Monster. About ten minutes into hearing some other EE.UU. peeps play the SAME GODDAMMNED SONGS THEY PLAY ON THE SAME DAMNED GUITAR, EVERY DAMNED NIGHT!!!1111, I got out my laptop and started the dj dance party. Soon friend and foe alike were shaking their asses like the olive branch never dropped. The entire experience was climaxed by a huge teach along of, believe it or not, the Soja Boy. Yes, it's true, for world peace to really occur, all that needs to happen is for the people of all countries to come together and,"super soak that ho." A more bizarre sight was never seen.

Which brings me back to the present. After taking a cab back into San Cris, checking into a hostel, getting a fantastic night's sleep, showering and shaving, we are now ready to take this city by storm (what an un-original idea....).

After a great breakfast, I suddenly felt a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. I feel excited to be here again. I am so lucky, so fortunate, not only to be here, but after being here for a while, to have the privilege to be able to travel here and experience this place. A privilege not afforded to many people here.

I'm excited to be here for a while, excited to go to Oaxaca, to DF, and just plain, dammned excited.

For today at least, I am happy.....

PS

Joshua, who is here with me, has been posting a much more positive version of our experience here

And he is also making weekly videos of our time here; which he has told me I can totally rip off to post here (One of these is abit NSFW, and to my parents who will surely see these, I am heartfully sorry in advance....Just close your ears and pretend it isn't happening. You know, pretend you are catholic....):


Denman's Boo Boo from Joshua Stephens on Vimeo.


Chiapas Week One from Joshua Stephens on Vimeo.

Maybe my blog will be more chipper next week....(Start holding your breath now....)

Trying to find that place that I am already at...

So I made it to Mexico, and here I am, in a cafe with internet that flickers like an old lightbulb. And I can't help but feel abit like that constant flux myself.

I'm not sure what I expected this trip to be like, and I can't say that I know anymore now than before I left.

Let's back up a little. I do feel very lucky to be here, and I definitely think it is very important to listen to and learn from the Zapatistas. Even if people don't necessarily agree with them, everyone should at least learn about their struggle to overcome their place as a societally steamrolled indigenous peoples facing a certain type of genocide (as they have for generations), to a people who have risen up to make their voices be heard for their own dignity, liberty, and justice, and by doing so, create a new type of community devoted to the acquisition of these fundamental rights, for all people.

I must admit there is nothing more vicerally moving than watching footage of a group of girls, all around the age of fourteen, tear through a barbedwire fence, and screaming and swearing at the top of their lungs, attack a heavily armed group of soldiers, with only their voices and their bare hands. The disconnect between this and the average act of the short minded US activist is that this is a direct action to merely attain survival. There is nothing symbolic, romantic, or cavalier about this. The Zapatistas rose up because they were simply tired of dying, and dying in total silence. Therefore, this is a totally justified act with a direct effect on these peoples' lives.

It has been painfully difficult to get the information that the people running the school have been constantly trying to inundate me with, because it is all in Castellano ("Spanish" in the colonial). Now it's true that the reason I came here was to learn this language, and there is plenty of hand holding in certain classes, but when the Zapatistas really try to drive home their experiences and struggles, and then use their answers to challenge you to recreate your own world, it is completely in a language I am still painfully rudimentary in understanding.

Normally it would be up to others whose Castellano is in a much more stable place to translate this tantamount aspect of our being here, however, often there seems to be much resentment about having to carry the weight of the "slow" members of the group. Which is where my only conflict in being here comes into play.

Now I can't really say that the promontories and I know each other well enough to get along, since at the moment we have no shared language. But they have all been nothing but nice, and patient, and generally pleased that I have come to learn from them. No, my problems come from the typical place: gringos. I have never felt so pre-judged and constantly persecuted by such a hyper-"radical"-political group of people in my life. And because of this two things have happened: One is that by day two I had a serious depression trigger that I am still feeling the wounds from, and two is that since I feel so marginalized in the group, I don't feel like I have the right to be participating. For someone like me who runs the spectrum from "Doesn't get along with many people" to "Fucking hates everyone," it's very difficult to over come this jagged wall of Jersey Barriers in order to listen to the people I truly do want to interact with. This is something I hope to remedy next week, as it will be an impossibly long, and heavily hearted, fruitless month here without this personal reconciliation.

Being in San Cristobal for the weekend has made me realize how murky and unreadable my feelings about this trip are so far. The good news is that this gives me sometime to get a hold on things before, in typical style, my depression takes over. The bad news is that there is that slim chance that the horrifically later will win out. Of course, losing my ipod, which is a constant source of maintaining my frail sanity, will be a serious blow that I don't know how I will deal with yet (and yes, this means I lost my ipod here, week one.)

I can't really embrace some black metal, luciferian dogma here, and become an isolated stoic with a potential will to power. I am just going to have to figure out how to suck it up, and move on.

Once again, my mind works in such bizarre ways. One would think that being in a place where the toilets have no seats, there is only one place to get drinkable water due to amoebas, only being able to shower, wash clothes, and shave once a week, and die in the heat of the day, only to freeze in the cold of the night, would bother me. But these things really haven't (yet). I just take this part and parcel as part of the experience. No, it's my necessary interactions with spiteful people who come from the the same place I do, that are trying to tear this experience from the seams for me, who shatter my stability.

I suppose I thought I would be able to use this escape from my environment to help me reflect on finding the path where answers may lay, to a time in my life when I am beyond lost, confused, and frustrated by where my existence is at. Of course there is such a child-like naivite in that type of logic. I have neither left reality on this trip no more than I have put my personality on hold. Which is another reason that I feel my sentiment is too in flux right now to get even the simplest hold of.

Well, well, well...While I try to piece things together, here are some photos that chronicle only the positive aspects of my trip thus far:












So, yeah, these are the people I am staying with, and learning from.......

blogging from my phone...

Fuck you guys; I'm going to Mexico.

What have I-What have I-What have I done to deserve this....

Even as I write this, I am in, I assure you, excruciating pain. Leaving off all the other problems in my life at this moment, let's just focus on the one that is the super funnest:

My 6mm kidney stone

So I'm technically what one would call "straight-edge." I still use the term, but don't follow all of the rigidity of the dogma. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I do drink coffee, so I guess I'm out as a hardliner (poor me, no pro-life homophobic boneheaded-ness). I have huge problems with taking prescribed drugs, however when dealing with a condition that Wikipedia explains as:

"Colicky pain: "loin to groin". Often described as the "the worst pain I've ever experienced"

One quickly finds a balance between the need to stay sober and pure, and the need to sleep and eat and have horrifically gutwrenching pain subdued.

I held out as long as I could, but after four miserable days, I finally checked myself into the ER on Saturday. I waited four two hours before I politely told the receptionist that I could no longer take the pain. Soon I was lying on a bed being whisked into an ER room. A doctor ran down a list of questions, and then a nurse sprinted in and hooked me up to an IV. I believe I was saying,"Um.....", as she said,"This is morphine; it will kill the pain." And as much as I detest the idea of something like that ever going in to my body (I didn't sleep for two days after I had a resection operation five years ago, and they gave me a button to push for morphine. I had to be long-windedly talked into it), I was soon at a calm I had not felt in four days. That night I actually slept, and I was really hoping to do the same thing tonight.

Before I left the ER they gave me two percocet to get me through the night, and a prescription for vikodin. The morphine finally wore off midday today, and so I quickly took a percocet once the stabbing began. Well, really I took half a percocet, as I still feel uncomfortable about all of this. Within a few hours I soon realized that this was not going to do it, and so I took the other half. A few hours into this a realized that all this had done was make me loopy, and not affect the pain.

As soon as I got home I popped a vikodin. Ahhhh, but really I popped a generic vikodin, as I could not afford the "real thing." I slid right into bed, finally happy for this misery to be over......or so I thought. An hour and a half into it, and I might as well have taken a Flintstones vitamin. I checked the bottle, and it said to take "one or two for every six hour period." After a brief debate, I decided to opt for round two. So now, here I sit, waiting for any of this terrible, degenerate, over-priced medicine to actually do anything, and I fear that wait could be all night.

I understand the process of passing a kidney stone, and I'd much rather pass it on my own without any procedure, however one cannot function under this sort of pain. As a normal, non-privileged amerikkkan, I do not have the luxury of talking to a doctor about proper medication, and then a long day of rest. I have to get up, and go to work. Which is not really something I will be able to do with no sleep.....due to unbearable pain, which magical phaeries will surely not have removed in this time period...........

When does this become worth it?

Curious how all this feels? Just watch this Discordance Axis video; it will explain:

Hooray for life

Life is that moment between death and birth where we get to experience pain......

And then some days........

Well, though I have a few more post to edit and homogenize, I have nearly moved all of my musical content over to Aural Suppository. Why all of it you ask? Well, the reason that I started doing the minterviews was because artists I talked about in this blog started finding and reading through google, and while that's great, I want to create a proper platform for that outside of this more personal blog.

And on that note.......Today was the odd kind of day where you can go from Suicide, to New Order,(and I mean Get Ready, yeah, the "car commercial" album....). Maybe therapy is making my mood and emotions yo-yo, but I think it's moving in an "I-think-I-can" positive direction.

So, this morning I woke up in a distant, depressive mood, and plodded through my day with a typical melancholy. I got home, once again, totally exhausted; I have still not recovered from NCOR. I had no time to rest however, since Dan and were meeting to continue the writing process for our next theatre project, and since we did not find any concrete solutions in the last meeting, I wasn't really looking forward to it. However, once I got to his place I felt this strange energy start to rise up in me. And soon enough, I was frantically pacing around, gesturing wildly with a coffee cupped hand.

We still kept hitting a very, horribly, frustrating wall however. We kept talking about meaning, after meaning, after meaning, and in the end two things happened: we meaned ourselves to death, and I don't think either one of us had any clue what we were talking about anymore. At some point I just broke down and said "stop!" We both had researched this project, we both had written mock mini pieces to work from, and we both knew what the hell we were doing. I suggested we acknowledge this, and then forget everything. Throw it right out the fucking window. We just needed to trust our ideas, and write them without analyzing them. And what do you know, we wrote an entire skeleton to work with the group from, in about one simple hour. Good fight; good night.

Which brings me to what could potentially be a slight retraction. I may not totally quit theatre next year. It turns out that Dan is not going to grad school next year, however he is still planning to create his own projects. And while I see our theatre company experiment alot like history views the great communist experiment, I would be willing to keep working on projects with only Dan. This would mean two things for me, one is that I would be less involved with the productions themselves, and two is that most of my creativity would be spent writing. As opposed to holding up a taped together knife, while reciting lines from Hamlet, with my own drool and snot running down my face, wishing I could use said prop to slit my own throat.

Which brings me to my final argument (I don't know either..), how can I do things like this and make a living? Neither Dan nor I want to compromise our work with the commodification required by the mainstream theatre community. Work theoretically equals income, and Dan and I would be working ourselves into the ground. However I'm not sure where the income would flow from. The job I have now is a fantastic model. An LLC, collective, where everyone is an equal partner, who has equal access to all commerce, and also equal responsibility to all duties. We have an accountant, a shared bank account, benefits, paid vacation, an amazing website, business cards, palm cards, and weekly meetings to keep on top of everything. The problem is that we are providing a service; the service of dog walking. Theatre is not a service, and therefore the income source would not be the same. I know for a fact that the model works, I just need to find out where the money comes from. Sure, it would be easy to charge money for the shows, and then use that to fund more shows. However, while I need to be able to do that, I also need to be able to provide a living wage. I'm an anticapitalist, and this is way out of my territory. I've thought about grants, but where can you find someone crazy (I mean, crazy amazing...) enough to fund your projects, plus give each member about $30,000 a year to cover living expenses?

Fortunately I have my current job, and it's quite stable, but I need to start figuring this problem out (you know.....before I turn forty)

Well dear reader friends.....Ideas?............

Back to basics

Okay,

So I am officially about to delete all of my music blogging on here, and move it to the new fangled blog that John and I have put together called Aural Suppository. I decided that blogging with John would be more fun than me talking to myself about rando records on here. No, no, no...I need this blog all to myself to complain about petty comings and goings in my life that are surely worse than those of a starving child in a third world country. Well, let's do the short list in the interim:

1.I started therapy
2.I survived NCOR
3.I wrote a new short piece that I am using to help write another piece for theatre
4.I am very close now to jumping the border
5.I am about to go back on health insurance
6.My phone broke, I bought another one, it never came, I bought another one, the other finally arrived, I got screwed out of $200. Fuck ebay.
7.As usual, tumult, tumult, tumult..........

But hey, I bought alot of new Martin Deny records with money I don't have, so that's good right?.....

More to come I swear.....

And speaking of winners, mailorder customers Kraig Keller and Denman
Anderson were the two lucky recepients of $25 AQ gift certificates,
randomly selected from the pool of peeps who sent in their 2007 Top
Ten lists before our deadline last month. Thanks again to everybody
who shared their lists (often with more than ten items, and often
with interesting and/or entertaining commentary). You're all tops
with us. You can view the collected 2007 Customer Top tens here:
http://www.aquariusrecords.org/2007customerfaves.html. Check it out.


DENMAN ANDERSON


1.Ammo)(omma-Go to Hell cd-r
2.Caacrinolas-Vargtimmen cd-r
3.Wolves in the Throne Room-Diadem of 12 Stars 2xlp
4.Harvey Milk-My Love is Higher Than Your Assessment of What My Love
Could Be (re-release) cd
5.L'Acephale-Mord und Totschlag cd
6.Bone Awl-Undying Glare 7"
7.Time of the Wolf-s/t cd
8.M.I.A.-Kala
9.Xasthur-Xasthur mlp
10.Yelle-Pop-Up cd
11. De Magia Veterum-Spikes Through Eyes Demo, Clavicula Salomonis,
The Blood of Prophets and Saints

Ring-around-the-rosy....

Sorry, for the week + delay on the OvO minterview; I appear to have contracted the plague............All of it will be up as soon as I get caught up with the NCOR work that got back logged last week when I was playing chess with the grim reaper......

Also, it might be noteworthy to both of my loyal readers that my friend John from Mundane Arcana and I have talked about joining forces to create a music blog together. Hopefully that will work out so I can have this one just for crying every time I skin my knee..........