Cheers
Hey, for anyone who randomly thought, "Perhaps Ian has finally updated his blog," despite all evidence to the contrary that your mind could muster... today's your lucky day.
Because I'm returning to my old one! The irony is murderous, I know. I had a lengthy talk with this one, and I told it it was me, not it, and I went through all the usual motions, but we came out all right and we're still friends, but my heart lies with Cuddly Bunnies, and there's no way around that anymore. So in short, if you care to see my various weird thoughts on all sorts of strange topics (and perhaps occasionally a heartfelt dissertation on subjects of actual import here and there)kindly tune in to the one, the only, the classic, Cuddly Bunnies. And I promise I'll actually update it often this time.
Love,
Ian
I Left My Heart in the Ozarks
Here's a quick rundown for all you Trekkies:
School = pretty sweet
Reconciliation = normally pretty good
Being in the middle of a drug deal during an ill-advised reconciliation = not good in the least
Blogs = All right, but sometimes, kind of a struggle to update
"Souvlaki" = Slowdive's 2nd album, and also one of the best records I've ever heard
Supposition of power = Escalation of Chaos
I finished the essays I promised Jon to the letter yesterday after class and was feeling pretty darn swell and in tune with the Universe until about 9:00 when there was a heavy knock on the door. I figured it was Jon back from Milwaukee already coming by to rip for a while, so I opened the door and instead discovered Aaron Dach and Shannon Sather.
These two fellows are old friends of mine who I stopped ripping with because they're douche bags who I want to be nothing like.
And as I discovered as the evening progressed... they're still douche bags who I want to be nothing like.
However, I've been on something of a reconcilitation trip lately (as a part of my self-betterment kick) so I thought, all right, I'll resolve whatever issues we have collectively and then we'll all experience spiritual growth and everyone will be happy and we'll all self-actualize a bit.
Not the case.
Instead I got a pretty one-sided tirade about how I was an @$$hole and that I was lucky that I didn't have a broken nose (apparently Shannon was considering socking it to me the second I opened the door; apparently Shannon has forgotten that I've floored him more than a few times during our tenure on this Earth) and general rants about what a douche I am. So I apologized because I definitely could've handled my rejection of them better (though I gotta tell ya, I still think it was for the best), i.e. I should've had a backbone and straight up told them why I thought they were scientists.
And believe me, they are scientists.
Over the course of tying things up, these fellows thought it prudent to go score some weed at McDonald's on the West Side with me still in the ride. Shannon even had the nerve to ask if I was gonna get blazed that night.
F that.
Over the course of the next two hours I basically re-discovered the dozens of reasons I really don't dig these guys. And you know what, whatever, I won't judge them, but the fact remains as it ever has: I have nothing in common with these people. In the least. So what's the point?
Oh well, hopefully they won't be calling me anytime soon. If they do, I think I'll be prepared to give 'em the Verbal 2x4 of Honesty and tell them what's on my mind. 'Cause listen, I got better things to do: I have real sisters and brohans I can chill with and have a clear conscience about.
Oh, I almost forgot, here's a quote from Shannon: "It's about time you hang out with your real friends again."
What?
Actually, you're absolutely right, Shannon. I'll leave you boys be and go give them a call.
Wholesomeness is way better than decadence. As if you didn't know that already.
One final note, that "Supposition of power" bit is from a Discordian text called "The Honest Book of Truth" and it's a crazy little tome that's all about combatting the Illuminati, 'cause let's face it: f those guys, too. Fo' sho'.
Anyway, don't take any wooden nickels, friends. Keep rippin' like there's no tomorrow.
Love,
Ian
Do you know any Indian legends?
Can I start things off by saying right off the bat that my jab at Stephanie in the last post was unwarranted? Good, because that was out of line, and I'm really sorry, and I was ignorant of the reality of her character because of the lies that Heather told me, so forget all of that. Stephanie's cool, no hard feelings; my goodness, I hope I still can get that job...
Anyway, Sigur Ros is next week and according to many reports, it will rank among the best shows that I will ever see. Also, their new album is out today, so I've gotta head out and pick that up. And also, I'll maybe see if there's any word on the street as regards my employment...
How about how Jon and Zach convinced Ally and Tim and I on Saturday night that a gang of hoodlums wanted their blood and were besieging Jon's apartment and I was getting geared up to cut swathes through their ranks and leave only bloody scraps of clothes and bone as I decimated my way to my brohans? How about how it was all a ruse, so my blood pressure went through the roof for nothing and it took me forever to get out of my berserker fury and calm back down to gentle giant mode? Oh well, it's funny to think about how I took that one hook, line and sinker. Kind of like how Zach convinced me that he pierced his nose back in June.
How about how I'm realizing that for the most part, hardcore dancing is lame? Seriously, a crew of kids dancing anymore at a show just makes me think of a bunch of Oscar Wildes pretending they know what aggression is all about. It kinda seems like pale attempts to impress the rest of the hardcore world, not actually digging music. How about how most hardcore isn't music, anyway? It's freaking breakdowns with some filler inbetween. Seriously. There's nothing musical about a breakdown. It's just pandering to those kids that wanna throw down with stupid moves and look like gay ninjas and not anything with musical validity.
Have I been thinking about hardcore too much lately? Obviously. And I don't even know why. I'd say it was because I heard that Bradley Hathaway poem for the first time in a long time and it just got the ball rolling in my head. All of these thoughts occurred to me yesterday whilst ripping with the Moms, and I couldn't really toss any of these ideas to her, because (God bless her) she doesn't really know what's up in the hXc world. Not that that's a bad thing. And not that I'm bitter. I'm not actually that riled up, it's just a sudden enlightenment to me as to why hardcore really just sucks. People deserve far better, that's all.
I hear that Ally loves poop.
Bwhat's happenin'
Greetings and salutations.
I get the feeling that the full overview of events since my last post is probably unnecessary, since the people who are hip enough to be checking this out are acutely aware of what transpired anyway. For the sake of closure, though, I will do a brief synopsis of the last 3 or so months:
1. Jon embarked upon his summer mission excursion, won some souls, rocked the Bahamas like a hurricane, returned home a conquering hero, and ripped like a madman throughout all of the above.
2. Zach and I thrashed virtually every second of every day, aside from when Fallen Sparrows played Cornerstone, when I pretty much just ripped with Carly and Ally. Oh, wait! Did I mention that Zach got electrocuted at Traxler Park on July 4th? Or that the Shaw almost blew his face off about 4 times that night?
3. Speaking of which, it was brought to my attention that Carly and Ally pretty much dominate. Craze-amazing.
4. I also discovered how much Salvationists rule, courtesy of Congress this past June. On a side note, I was also made aware that Justin Rose is probably the nicest human being that I have ever/will ever meet. He still shouldn't have shaved his head, though. Oh well.
5. Huge Pig Vietnam is up and running and will tear your face off and feed it to hyenas. Bloodthirsty, ravenous hyenas, not those tame "Lion King" poseurs.
6. Walken practices suddenly yield new song ideas everyday.
7. We made a friggin' gore film of the highest magnitude wherein Ally's head gets decimated by a truck. Dap.
8. Six Flags with the CBLI crew dominated, especially the food fight at the hidden away pavillion. Except for the chicken in my shirt's breast pocket. That was just gross.
9. Jon's welcoming back/ birthday party was a hydrogen bomb of sweetness.
10. Zach's dad really, REALLY likes ballooning. A lot.
11. I realize that the bowling-ball-on-a-rubber-sheet description of spacetime doesn't serve as well of an analogy as a gelatinous sphere filled with high-velocity marbles of differing sizes.
12. Zach gets his wisdom teeth pulled to great hilarity for the rest of the day. Side note: his parents saw Neil Diamond on the same day without us. Neil freakin' Diamond. We have not felt joy in our lives since then.
13. I applied for a job. Yeah. Me. I'm still waiting for that Stephanie wench* to give me a call.
14. Death Cab owned, Unwed Sailor owned, Coldplay owned, Sleeping at Last owned, Coheed and Cambria... yeah, they were pretty all right, too. But mewithoutYou would've been WAY sweeter. And you know this.
The brief synopsis I promised suddenly resembles a bloated beast, so I think that that sums up the summer pretty nicely. There's still an infinite amount of ripping to be accomplished though, so don't stop rockin'. Git 'r done**.
Love,
Ian
*Hey, that's just the convergence of opinion over at Exclusive Company, I can't really say that I know for sure. Although I gotta tell you, she doesn't really seem to be the warmest/cheeriest person I've ever met. That's all I'll say about it.
**You don't even know what that means.
A Quick Kernel of Wisdom from a Sweet Poet
Adversity is the first path to truth.
-Lord Byron
