Writer's Block

I used to write. Fiction: stories, poems, and the like, but I mean music. I used to write lots of music. I wrote about a million songs before college, but the first real song I remember writing and writing down was a song called “Angel” back in college. It took form slowly.

The first song I arranged and completed was called “Time,” and that was my senior year. It was the first song that was actually complete, not just a melody. Then came “Away,” a song I actually performed twice in front of people. “Open Letter” was third. At that point I started numbering my songs. And until 2000, I wrote and arranged about 60 songs. Now, due to shitty notetaking, I only really remember about 30 or 40, but the point is: I was prolific.

Now, when I revisit these songs, some of them are just not very impressive. Some, the lyrics are shabby. Others don’t seem very complete. Some songs are just not very good melodies. And that, I believe, is why I haven’t composed a complete song in years. In 2000, I wrote a song that really spread beyond just acoustic guitar called “What She’s Got.” I was, and still am, proud of it. In the last two years, though, I have played piano more, and that has lead to two songs, both currently untitled and lacking lyrics. Neither is especially genre-similar to the other 40-odd songs I remember.

So now, in 2003, I really want to get back into song writing and I find myself unable to tap into the creative resource I used to have. There used to be a well bleeding of inspiration, brought on mostly, I hate to say, by my misery living in Connecticut. That pain translated into lots of songs that captured that emotion, including “CLV” and “This Pain,” amongst others. And weed, as displayed in “Slide.” And even cosmic events, like in “Rigel” and “Saturn.”

Freaking out about money, unfortunately, makes not for musical inspiration, and everything else is okay, for the most part. I find myself too happy to compose anything worthwhile, isn’t that sad? I need something to really move me, something to kick my ass. I’m hoping that moving to Florida will provide *positive* motivation to capture some emotion in song. I’m hoping.

I'm so excited. I just can't hide it.

Oh my. It’s kinda silly that I don’t even feel any loyalty to anything in DC anymore. It’s like the days are just going to bleed by in a blurry countdown until I get to that sunny increasingly unrealistic paradise that will probably be host to the next phase of my life. I’m such an idealist.

Florida has had my brain for a while now, a few years have passed and I’ve pretty much pussed out on ever actually picking my ass up and transplanting my life there. I think I might do it. Really.

It's Funny Cause It's True

I’m such a loser. I don’t need a weblog. I never kept a diary, why would I use a weblog? The truth is, I like having a project like Flip. It keeps me occupied. It works, but there’s always stuff to tinker with. I get a kick out of building it and making it come to life.

I was perousing some of the other weblogs out there. Not many support flatfiles, which is kinda neat. It makes Flip unique. Of course, there is one really super advanced flatfile weblog called Easy Base System, but I can’t really find any mention of it anymore. Still, Flip doesn’t have the professional feel that some of the other, more developed weblogs do. I happen to think Flip is more attractive, but it’s not as “pro” feeling. I might rip off some of the Slash-esque feel.

So, Which I know is lame, but I do it. It’s a clean, healthy habit – and as long as I stay away from Star Trek, the X Files, and Mountain Dew: Code Red, I should be okay. Alas…

D'oh.

The Phish shows in Hampton are over. New Years is over. My finger is probably broken, but at a minimum, hurts like hell, I’m sick and generally feel like poo, and my car is bashed up and I don’t know why. Plus, work sucks!

I’m having a crappy day, can you tell? I’m going to go home and watch TV and get hammered off of Hycodan cough syrup.

In the meantime, Hampton friggin ruled. So much fun. God, I missed Phish.

I'm going to slap JeN around

Well, the cat’s out of the bag for me, thanks to JD, and now I’ll definitely have some ‘splainin to do to those I never let know about theonion. On the other hand, it’s been a positive experience in general because even though I feel slightly demeaned by the entire experience, I’ve met some cool people and it’s certainly kept me entertained. And you know what? It’s nice to get e-mail from someone who thinks you’re amusing. So, the answer, I guess, is “Go ahead and try it.” You really have nothing to lose except a small piece of pride, and truthfully, I lose that regularly anyway, for example, right after my post on “fonts.”

The internet has become an legitimate and socially acceptable forum for meeting – and e-mail is one of the best measures of personality, a shitload better than old school personal ads, blind dates, and frankly, even bars. My advice, if you’re single, let go of your hang ups and give it a whirl. Dad, chime in when ready.

NMCI: worst idea since "Greedo Shoots First"

Most of you know that I work for the Government. What you may not know is that, even though I get frustrated as an employee, I have recently gotten very upset as a taxpayer. Nothing is upsetting me more than this stupid contract called NMCI.

NMCI is the Navy/Marine Corps Intranet, a great idea on paper but utter shite in reality. In an effort to link the armed forces, the Navy and Marine Corps awarded a 6 billion dollar plus contract to the (completely unprepared) EDS. The Information Strike Force, hereafter referred to as the morons, simply don’t know what the hell they’re doing. They are doing things like replacing new hardware with old hardware that they actually know how to use. They are planning to “upgrade” our 12 million dollar cat 6 infrastructure to cat 5 (ungeeked: NOT an upgrade), and they are charging us — and taxpayers, mind you — an obscene amount of money. For God’s sake, installing the Flash plugin to your browser is going to cost about $125! What in the hell?

Some recently retired Admiral better be smoking a cigar and sitting on serious cash in a Cayman bank account, because otherwise, we got raped. Frustration!