Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones

cant stop listening to Einstein on the Beach.

I admire things like this:
http://www.maniacworld.com/Western-Spaghetti-in-Stop-Motion.html

If you put a mirror in front of another mirror you can see infinity.
If you put a microphone in front of It's speaker you can hear infinity.

My Lord, what a mornin'
My Lord, what a mornin'

My Lord, what a mornin'
when the stars begin to fall.

You'll hear the trumpet sound
to wake the nations underground,
Lookin' to my God's right hand,
when the stars begin to fall.

I don't know how i feel about Yeasayer. There are a couple of tracks i enjoy- "Ah, Weir", "No Need to Worry", and i really enjoy "Waves" (especially around 2:50). I think I group them with Grizzly Bear and Akron Family, that is to say, they make nice music that is easy to listen to, but I have trouble differentiating songs? Maybe thats what it is. All the songs are kind of slow and repetitive (which isn't a bad thing) and it's hard for me to "get into it".

But this is also the case with Mates of States, and they are fairly upbeat and pop-ish. However, most of their songs are similar in sound from one another- heavy keyboards, drum machines, and cute singing. It's hard for me to think of anyone particular song, instead I think of their overall tone.

I've only given Rabbit Habbits by Man Man a few listen to's but it has embedded itsself in my brain. I think its because of how unique each song sounds- so many various instruments and styles.

There is this impending doom from mistrust lingering over my head.

I was thinking today about when people's thoughts are exchanged from being an object to an idea/emotion. For example, having never smoked weed, a kid might think when he hears "weed" of a tiny green clump of smelly earth. But after he smokes weed, the thought of "weed" embodies the idea of getting "high".

If you use your hands you invade space.

What the fuck am I doing here?

There are two people I haven't met but would like to punch in the face with a brick, or at least with some hot lasagna.
Dinner parties two hours too late.

Last night my dreams were falling
out of my ears
so I laid on my left side and covered
your bed with diseases and regret.
I rolled over in the flood and flushed them out
with thoughts of 100% white grape peach
juice, owning, a small, local shop and being patronized by the rich so when the time
came to sell the shop, i could eat vegan foods and support young ideas.

My new tires have whiskers and a girl in New York fell 14 stories down a chimney and if that janitor had it swept the two feet of soot wouldn't have saved her. They say seeing your newborn will make you weep but I really just want to get old and comfortable. No joke, there is an Anarchist coffee shop.

"I'd like a Cafe Breve light sugar and vanilla please."
"Fuck you."

I'm idly waiting for my new house, but what if its not what I'm seeking? I feel like idleness comes anywhere, and in any package. Making music seems like more of a chore than a hobby. I think its called Hummingbird I really like it. Fearing the unknown is a shitty feeling; swore I wouldn't repeat it. Maybe I'll get to play more drums/loops.

It goes
double dagger
parts and labor
ponytail
blackdice.
Stop worrying.

When you work 40+ hours a week, you soon realize there is not enough time to do what you would like. However, tonight I showed my mom our myspace, and the guys we play with, and she felt so accepted, being a part of my life. She was excited about cha cha, and then we drank a 6 pack, played scrabbled and listened to the books and BOO! HUMAN. As soon as home is home it's taken away, temporary forever at home at home.

4th of Jooly in a prop plane

While you were sleeping in my bed and Dad was watching Sci-fi, I pumped my tires and rode. It was so smooth, the ride, like cutting Jello with one of the butter knives we've had since the beginning of time. Over the bridge, down, back round like an Olympian, through the trees of 5 a.m. to the cross, then to your park. I stopped and did some pull-ups; now i can do 4, 4, 3, 3, 3, 2 until infinity. My upper body strength has never been able to match my body (I'm 204 pounds, for Christ's sake!). I rode to what i used to pretend was a command center, and sipped the ice water that doesn't smell like eggs. It was like elementary school, after we would run an entire lap around the track, climb the "lollipop" (I had to do push-ups, again, inferior upper body) then jog to the fountain. It was a horse style fountain: three nozzles on a slanted tray. We had three seconds to drink while a girl would scream "ONE BANANA TWO BANANA THREE BANANA GO!". It was never enough, but today i drank a waterfall, i could feel life in my throat and my lungs cool. While heading back, a lonely mother bird cried for her lover with kids crying for food. She will take him back, regardless of what other bird bars he's been too, feathering up on Red Robins.
I think I'm losing my mind, my clothes stink from leaving them in the was for too long, my bike is too small, and my sounds are never satisfying. Insecurities linger and dance on the brain waves.

On my recent trip to Ohio, I listened to (almost) 17 hours of new music. The thing is, I was given most of it months ago and never listened to it. I consolidated my library, but soon realized and remembered how deciding you're take and interpretation from the first active listening is somewhat difficult. Usually one likes the music they like for specific reason: a good friend of musical merit recommended it, the band has a "brand name" (their first album was great, therefore the awesomitude of the new album will be biased), or something incredibly extravagant happened while listening (bought a new car, saw snow for the first time, lost virginity). I realized after hearing the 17ish hour monster, I had no opinion of the Black Keys, Fiery Furnaces, or Mt. Gigantic, and could only say I "liked" some parts just on initial reaction and "Oh, neat!"'s.
I feel this way about people too, but only sometimes. I don't know how many times I've known someone was cool but had no real way of actively hanging out with them and therefore putting them on my "czzzzech it out"playlist (or getting put on theirs [which is almost always the case]).

Got a thin crust margarita pizza in the oven, and a HUGE strawberry smoothie i made right here. Listening to Terrible Two by Thank You, and I'll be in Ohio till Friday. Come see Surfin Serf play on Saturday.

I hope its not weird that brianne is my background.
It was good seeing you.

When we live together, we can ride our bikes everywhere. I rode to the old apartment complex and realized my life is a mess. I stood where i stood ten years ago, saw the same things, thought the same thinks. Then i saw a man bleeding on the road, his hands and forearms were gushing blood with spurts of velvety red. His ripped scooter laid beside him, and i could hear the sirens in the background. Better not tell mom.

I still can't get in touch with my sister, and my family doesn't seem to care to let me now how i can. Everything is so goddamn circumstantial here.

Worst fucking thing that ever happened to me.
I feel like the quiet face's Sam Zurick makes during intercourse with his floral guitar. Ideas hidden within i hope to release on our 4-track, I don't even care if people hear it anymore. I just want a portfolio, as Byron says. One I can play, fast-forward, and play backwards hearing the notes get swoll. Earthquakes of sounds. Hands still master our ideas and make us. Every rumble of thunder wraps up tighter and makes the cloudscape prettier than a natural kingdom, letting few shards of light pierce the street.
I remember tasting green. The first time someone impersonated Fox McCloud, they spilled whiskey all over my floor/drum rug. I miss his little boy shriek with ever K.O. Got a record player but need a needle, soon I'll get the analog warmth again. Last time I went on a date, I got thanked the worst way possible, now i mistrust like Bukowski but will never write it because its boring and heartbreak only belongs in pages unread or a stupid blues band. Work keeps minds away from what they want, but today i didn't have to work and had no plans and the cuts on my fingers from work prevented me from feeling strings.
It was hilarious when i walked into the house and saw it was the wife of the dick who fired me a few months ago.
Then went back later that night and shook his hand.
Thanks to byron i can blog from my bed, and watch shin chan too.