Because You're Young

With the holidays over, we it was time to begin our trek back to reality. The drive was relatively short, four or five hours in all, but that didn’t make the prospect any less daunting. Again and again over the past few days we’d heard talk of a great snowstorm. In fact, that seemed to be all anyone had to talk about anymore. I, of course, assumed that the fears and stories we were hearing had been exaggerated for the most part and felt pretty confident we’d make it back all right.

We saw nothing that indicated anything out of the ordinary as we made our way back to the city. The sun shone, the roads were clear and if anything, traffic seemed to be even lighter than usual. We mocked the reports, amused by the inability of New Yorkers to cope with even the lightest dusting of snow. After all, we’d grown up in the north country where morning often greeted us with several feet of new snow left over from a blizzard the previous night.

As we finally entered the city, we came upon an abrupt change of scenery. Suddenly there was snow everywhere; it was as if the dull grey of the city had been painted a bright white. Abandoned buses, cars and trucks were strewn about the streets. Snow drifts covered vehicles parked along the streets, making it all but impossible for their owners to move them and make way for the plows. Subsequently, many roads were left unplowed, and remained impassable.

With the snow, a strange quiet had descended over the city. It was as if a bomb had gone off, leaving the survivors to sullenly sift through their wreckage. Most all businesses were closed and the public transport system had ceased to run; for all intensive purposes, the entire city had been shut down for the time being. Now and then, we’d see people pushing, shoveling, fighting to navigate their way through the snow-covered streets; while the vast majority of the city’s inhabitants elected to spend the day behind the thick walls of their warm apartments.

The snowy streets were complemented by a whipping wind. The pounding gales rattled street signs, spun traffic signals, blew snow about and made it that much more unbearable for those relegated to foot. The whole affair gave off the feeling that we had entered some sort of twilight zone, losing ourselves to another dimension of reality.

As we got closer to home, the roads became less negotiable and even more desolate. Entire blocks were unreachable. Drivers ignored traffic signals and signs and roads became blocked by immobile vehicles and massive piles of snow. We ended up pushing the car on several different occasions, and more than once I found myself driving the wrong direction down one-way streets.

Even still, beneath the solemnity I could sense something of a blissful air. In spite of the added labor and nuisance brought about by the snow there was something more agreeable. A childish sentiment of sorts, it was as though the whole city had been issued a massive snow day. While many rushed to grab sleds, others joined in to help push stuck vehicles. With some careful observation one could almost certainly make out passersby chuckling to themselves at the absurdity of it all.

“And it was absurd wasn’t it?” I found myself thinking as we finally pulled up to our apartment. In less than 24 hours the city had been completely transformed, almost unrecognizable by its former state. The next few days would be frustrating, at least until all the snow was cleared away. “Still, there’s no point in boding on it.” I thought to myself as I hastened to unpack my things, rushing to get outside and join in the fun before it was too late.

A Day In The Life

"I read the news today, oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade;
And though the news was rather sad,
Well, I just had to laugh—
I saw the photograph..."

There comes a time in life when a person’s actions and manners come into conflict with that person’s understanding of self. The experience is, in all likelihood, quite shocking and perhaps overwhelming to the individual, rattling their understanding (world-view) to the very core. It forces us into a state of cognitive dissonance of sorts, as we’re left to rectify this inconsistency between our moral foundation and our behavior.

About a week ago, I had a disquieting experience of this sort. I was at my place of employment, early on a weekday morning, working to get the restaurant open for the day. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and was feeling rather sluggish. The streets outside the restaurant were filled with trucks, loading and unloading, from the distribution center across the way. As I stepped through the front doors to pull out the bench and open the store, I noticed a truck directly in front of me backing up. The driver, blinded by the general enormity of the truck itself, was rendered unawares of a middle aged women standing directly behind the truck, and she, absorbed in her own musings, was also oblivious of the moving truck.

I was just close enough to the scene to alert the woman to her immediate peril, saving her from certain injury and possible death; but, for whatever reason, I chose not to do so. I’ve always though myself to have an unrelenting sense of justice, laboring always to defend the defenseless and protect the undeserving from falling into harm’s way. Needless to say, I was surprised at my own indifference to the apparent peril of the woman in question and my failure to respond to the situation; but that wasn’t even the half of it. Not only did I feel indifferent to situation, but I also felt a sense of exhilaration at the prospect of watching the scene unfold. As it was, the truck happened to stop just short of hitting the woman and she, completely ignorant to her peril, walked away unharmed.

Due to my own conception of self, the thrill I felt was, and understandably so, rather troubling to me and left me feeling quite disturbed. I was unable to understand what might persuade me to react in that way, relishing at the sight of another’s pain or affliction. It was such a new, foreign emotion, yet, how familiar it felt and how easily it came to me. How was I to explain the display of this cold, hard, detached emotion, so uncharacteristic of me?

Contemporary thought would most probably try attribute it to a process of desensitization; the side effect of life in New York City and exposure to more than one’s fair share of horrible sights. With the excess of violence that occurs around the world today, the images on the news, the carnage and bloodshed of videogames and movies; it doesn’t seem so unlikely that one might become desensitized, or feel indifferent when confronted with such violence in the real world. Perhaps we become used to such images, comfortable enough with them that they become the norm, and we no longer react to them in horror and shock.

Still, that seems to be a horribly simplified explanation, and doesn’t really get to the root of my own problem. After all, it wasn’t just a callous indifference that characterized my experience. There was something else there, beneath the indifference; there was that sense of excitement, thrill or perhaps even pleasure as I watched the scene unfold, a sort of hopeful lust for the calamity I believed to be inevitable.

What could lead such unbridled emotions to rise to the surface and how does one push them back down, regaining control and discipline over the self? Answers to such questions do not, most certainly, come easily and probably require an in-depth analysis of the individual in question. As for myself, the peculiar state philosophically that I have more recently reached may have had some bearing on the off-hand enmity I felt; or it could have perhaps been my own subliminal misery with the current state of things invoking a desire to see this agony shared amongst others as well.

More recently, I have come to the acceptance that human life is itself insignificant and trivial. Despite our wishes, we have no meaning, purpose or relevance outside of ourselves beyond the friends and peers (other humans) who have something invested in us. The matter of our life and death is literally inconsequential. To attach a deeper meaning or importance feels so utterly arrogant and represents just the sort of juvenile egotism so characteristic of the modern man. What difference does it make in the course of the planet, the galaxy, even the universe if any one person dies now or twenty years down the line?

This line of reasoning may seem horribly callous, heartless, cruel, and unkind but at least its an attempt at being honest. Even still, I cannot truly comprehend my thoughts at that particular moment, nor wholly understand why I failed to react in the way I did. Perhaps the episode was nothing more than a consequence of fatigue or some other anomaly deep within myself. Most importantly, as humans we should realize that we never understand ourselves as well as we like to think. Incidents like these provide a rare glimpse into our very selves and, with critical reflection and thought, help us to better understand why it is that we act and think in the ways that we do.

"He blew his mind out in a car;
He didn't notice that the lights had changed.
A crowd of people stood and stared;
They'd seen his face before..."

October Again

The last rays of the summer sun dissipate into the crisp, cool, air of the autumn breeze. That hopeful frivolity of summer has since passed, the vivacity of those promising days long since faded. It’s all gone in the blink of an eye; we never truly had anything more than that anyway. Besides what could we ever really do about it? After all, we’ve already resigned ourselves to the coming winter, bracing ourselves against the cold, harsh, bitterness of those long, barren months.

It’s so hard to get a grip on it all. All the doing and going, the passing of time, the dwindling flicker of this thing called life. I don’t know what it is we’re looking for; and, the older I get, the more I’m convinced that no one really does. We’re all caught up in the day to day, it’s practically impossible not to be. There’s never any time for reflection, never time for any sort of convalescence; and, before we know it, it’s October again; winter fast approaching, that deep chill settling itself into our bones, the depths of our souls.

Our ships set sail so long ago, leaving us to struggle; tossed about, subject to the whims of the callous sea; trying with all our strength to catch up, to grab hold, to pull ourselves out of the swirling depths. But it’s all far too much for us; we were always just a few too many steps behind, always a little too late.

But with time, and the wisdom that most certainly comes with it, we may finally realize that we never had a chance at all. Ah yes, the game was fixed; it must have been. Or perhaps there was never even a game at all. No winners, no losers, just actors. For what are we ever but actors? Even living at its very best is nothing more than a good ruse; a performer who is especially good at his trade, but still left to make it all up as he goes along.

Now the burden of old age is quickly approaching; and with it the frailty, the hollow emptiness, the realization that our best days are far behind. It all passes so quickly, and we find ourselves thrust into October again, dreading the cold, harsh, hollowness of that ever-looming winter. But then, what more can we do than sit back, trying to enjoy the fading light of these October days; to tell ourselves its not so bad really, for surely it could be much worse. After all, we can always cling to the fleeting hope that summer will one day again be back, that the chill cannot possibly last forever. So hope and will and cling for all its worth, and perhaps, someday, you’ll again find yourself enjoying the cool, crisp breeze of an October day.

Mad Girl's Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)


Sometimes you read something and it just gives you this crazy, weird feeling inside. It’s the feeling of pure emotion, passion in its rawest form. It’s like someone took your insides and shook them all up, sending them swirling into oblivion. The heart beats faster and the head spins, just enough to set you over the edge.

It’s an odd phenomenon and it usually catches me by surprise. You can’t plan for something like that to happen, it just does. It could just be the way something is phrased or an intense connection with a certain concept. It may sound cliche, or even a bit trite, but the truth is, there's nothing else like it.

Cause of Death

I've begun working on a few new projects that have been taking up most of my free time lately. I'll hold out on talking about them for the moment, but I promise to have some updates soon.


We're always moving faster but that clock never stops ticking... www.deathwontwait.com

New Beginnings

We were always a little too late. Time dies slow, but death won't wait.

http://deathwontwait.wordpress.com

Fallen Prey

I’ve been back in Brooklyn for a little more than two weeks now. I’m finally starting to get used to waking up in the same place every morning, seeing the same people on a regular basis and settling into at least a semi-regular routine. I started working again and am actually starting to like it. Of course, any mindless job will be intellectually stifling and I certainly am feeling its affects. But it really is nice change to have a little money now and then and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having fun.

There’s something about a routine that is suddenly attractive to me. I had always shunned the idea of regularity, wanting instead to live a life of excitement and surprise, something that still appeals to me in a way. Oddly enough, I now find myself looking for a more habitual sleep schedule and some sort of plan for my daily pursuits. I like the order and stability that a routine provides, however temporarily, and am ok without the steady stream of excitement that comes with being on the road.

Instead I’ve been able to satisfy that lust through different projects, finding fulfillment in my efforts to learn and create new things. I find myself feeling much more content after hours of reading or writing than I do climbing out of a van after an 8-hour drive. Still, I feel oddly attracted to faraway places and can’t deny that pang of jealousy I feel when I hear about the adventures of travelling friends. I’m almost certain that itch will be back, and before long I’ll find myself desperately wanting to escape once again.

Even when I talk of routine, my life is certainly not regular in any strict sense of the word. More often than not I end up staying up all night, working unusual hours, and deciding everything at the spur of the moment. I still can’t really plan anything and hate the idea of working a full-time job. Perhaps I’ve finally found a happy medium or maybe just a temporary solution to capriciousness. I’ve always been frightened of normalcy and the stale monotony that generally accompanies it. The fact that I’m starting to feel attracted to it is all the more terrifying. Its certainly possible that I burnt myself out a little over the summer, being gone for so long; or maybe this is what they call growing up, although I really hope that’s not it. Only time will tell as the next few weeks and months unfold and my insides sort themselves out. Everybody wants to dance with the devil, but no one wants to pay the band.

Kingpin

Walking fine lines helps you pass the time.

Semi-Charmed Life

We tripped on the urge to feel alive.

Thicker Than Water

Last night I took a trip to West side of Manhattan to embark on a three-hour boat ride in a cruise ship through the Hudson. Strangely enough, H2O was playing a show aboard the ship, an event that had sold out weeks ago to its 500-person capacity. I had forgotten all about the show until a friend called me up that afternoon offering me a ticket to the show. Leading the ultimate slacker-lifestyle and having no obligations ever, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to get out of the house and do something unusual for the evening.

I met up with my friend at the corner of 14th and 8th and we drove up to the port at 42nd street. We arrived just a few minutes before the scheduled departure and made our way up the ramp to board the ship. A few minutes later the boat set sail and we were off, making our way downstream towards the statue of liberty.

There were no other bands listed to play, but I couldn’t imagine that H2O could come up with a set list to keep anyone interested for a full three hours. As it turns out, the band didn’t begin until about 90 minutes after we set sail and ended up playing for a little over an hour.

The show itself was pretty rad. The boat rocked back and forth as a few hundred kids scrambled over each other to sing-a-long and try to keep their balance. Mackie and JJ of the Cro-mags made a special appearance towards the end of H2O’s set and played “Hard Times.” H2O played a good mix of old and new, with Toby and his son bringing the laughs with their in-song stage banter.

The whole night was a little unreal. I felt as if I had been given a glimpse into the life of the wealthy New Yorker; the kinds of things I, as a young graduate, should probably be trying to do with my life. Still, I couldn’t imagine myself enjoying something like that if I hadn’t been surrounded by a bunch of hardcore kids. All in all, the show was a good time and reminded me why I love New York, the only place in the world where something like this would happen.


Blood is thicker than water and hardcore still rules.

Losing My Skin

Three weeks ago I left the comforts of home behind, hopping in a car with four friends to see the country and try to catch some good vibes. Our final destination was California, with a handful of other stops planned along the way. The trip took us down the East Coast to DC, through the Midwest, into the Rocky Mountains, past the grand canyon into the Southwest and finally to the West Coast for a few days in Southern California. We stayed with friends, slept in parks, camped out and bought in the occasional hotel. In all, it was a new experience altogether. Unlike touring there were no load-in times, no hardcore shows, no obligations at all. We drove at our own pace, leisurely winding our way though the countryside, stopping again and again to take in our surroundings.

On the open road, there’s nothing but time. Back home in the real world, there’s never time for anything. We’re always on the go, running 15 minutes behind schedule, scrambling just to keep our heads above the water. I’ve grown so used to this deficiency that I barely know what to do with myself when I actually have time to spare. Tentatively at first, I began to lose myself in my mind for hours at a time, staring at the open road as it passed beneath our feet and disappeared into the distance. For the first time I could really reflect on my life, seeing things in new perspective and learning more about myself. All the stress, anxiety and problems of home began to lose all meaning and after a while I couldn’t remember why I had worried about them in the first place.

The pinnacle of the trip was the Grand Canyon. We drove over night to the North Rim to arrive early in the morning and camped there the following night. The massive beauty of the thing mesmerized me. Humanity, for all its narcissistic enlightenment, scientific progress and technological advancement, could never even dream of manufacturing such a creation.

That night we watched a meteor shower from a cliff hanging over the canyon. On all sides we seemed surrounded by a deep, dark sea as meteor after meteor rained down from the heavens above. No words could do justice to the beauty of the spectacle, its one of those things you had to see yourself to fully appreciate it. The significance of our daily lives, and the arrogant certainty with which we approach our very existence were dwarfed by the grandeur of the moment.

As I lay there on the rocks in a tangle of bodies, with some of my best friends I knew that this was it. I wasn’t sure exactly what it is, but of nothing in my life have I ever been more certain. Moments like those are the ones that really matter. To see the unseen and experience the magnificent, that’s what living is all about. Forget about all the bunk relationships, looming bills, and failed aspirations. Take just a moment to forget it all and let yourself truly live.

Living Proof

What is man but a blink of the eye in the history of time? A brief episode on a planet among millions floating in a sea of endless galaxies. Man, whose problems seem so lofty and great and whose destructive reach knows no limit, is scarcely a speck of dust in the grander scheme of the universe. He has placed himself above the rest of his fellow inhabitants with a self-assigned superiority, convinced that he is the ultimate manifestation of God's creative capacity.

Perhaps its an issue of perspective or rather, one of untamed ego; an audacity to assign a self-important role in this grand history. His personal problems, his anxiety, his depression amount to little less than nothing. All his laws, wars, economies, and new technologies as insignificant as our fleeting desires. The universe was there long before man crawled from the earth's mirky depths and will surely continue long after his inevitable descent.

Short Fuse

Everybody knows and everybody talks.

Films About Ghosts

Here are a couple more flicks from my hike through the Redwoods that I didn't get a chance to post before. It was one of the most strikingly beautiful and majestic places I'd ever visited. Unblemished by humanity and its poisonous touch, the forest had an air of ancient wisdom and a gloomy aesthetic that was so enchanting yet remarkably pure and simple.





"Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet."

Fade to Black

I'm back home again already wishing I was gone. Still, I couldn't have asked for a better trip. I spent the past 10 days swimming in the Pacific, driving through mountains, hiking through redwoods, jumping off bridges, exploring waterfalls; all the things we dreamt about but never had the time to do. Now there's barely enough of it to get settled in before the road calls again. Normal life's a drag but the promise of new adventure is just enough to keep me going.

The Queen is Dead

The morning took us back to Santa Cruz and it's Pacific Avenue. We kicked about the thoroughfare for a bit and browsed the shops lining the way. I spent more time than I’d like to admit at the local record shop, but made it out of there without buying anything. Once we’d taken our fill, we headed to the boardwalk overlooking the beach. It was complete with a theme park, carnival games, mini-golf and, of course, swarms of tourists. I almost felt like I was back at the Coney Island Side Show, but naturally it lacked the hypodermic needles and rough and tumble locals that helped the peninsula gain the notoriety it has today.



Later on in the day we headed North, travelling still further up the coast. The drive was no less breathtaking than the day before as we journeyed through the heavy fog and thick scent of coastal sage. We eventually came upon a lighthouse and, at my insistence, elected to stop. It was situated atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, its bright signal breaking through the dense fog and shining out to sea. The lighthouse itself had fallen into disrepair and clearly existed only as a memento from the past. We took a minute to explore the tower and its surroundings, thankful for any excuse to stretch our legs.



There was something about the place that just killed me. It was all so romantic, as if it were taken straight out of a old novel. The fog, the sea, the rocky shore, the trenchant chill, the rickety old lighthouse, together created the perfect scene; something that was beyond the descriptive power of mere words, a feeling that went straight to the bones. Maybe it sounds a little corny or cliche, but I couldn't help but be awed by it all. I would have stayed all evening if there was time, but of course, there never is.

Keep On Runnin'

We woke up early and headed south to Monterey, California. Monterey is an old fishing town, best known for its role in various Steinbeck novels. The historic downtown area was cute enough and we took some time to explore the wharf and the many shops lining Cannery Row, even catching a glimpse of some sea otters napping near the shore. The fog, ocean breeze, and morning chill made for a refreshing change from the scorching heat of the past couple weeks. Plus, there was something about the gloom that I found appealing; a sort of overwhelming sadness that I could relate to in some weird way.


The afternoon brought us south along the 1 to an area known as Big Sur. Made famous by Kerouac’s beat generation, Big Sur claimed some of the most breathtaking sights I’ve ever seen. Giant cliffs, rocky ravines and water so impossibly blue, it felt almost painful to pull myself away. But still, onward we trudged, pausing to take advantage of the numerous stop-offs along the highway to enjoy the scenery as we made our way down the Pacific coast.



A single-lane road took us away from the highway, winding its way through the forest to Pfeiffer beach. The refreshing scent of evergreen greeted us immediately as we stepped out into the trees and followed the path down to the water’s edge. The beach itself was hidden away, flanked by rocky hills and towering cliffs on either side. It didn't take long to discover that we could climb some of the cliffs and we scrambled to take in the scenery from new vantage points. The sun poked its head, but the breeze was chilly enough to keep us from swimming; not to say that I would have braved the rocky shore and violent surf even if it had been any warmer out.




After a short stay at Pfeiffer, we zipped back up the coast, passing Monterey and heading for Santa Cruz. There was something eerie in the way the fog crept over the hills, sneaking down to settle in the valleys below. But still, I loved it all, wishing I could stay just a bit longer. But alas, we left it all behind, finally reaching Santa Cruz and the Saturn Cafe. The place had been recommended by a friend and certainly lived up to all the hype. I enjoyed a tofu burrito and washed it down with a peanut butter-chocolate milkshake. Steinbeck himself couldn't have written a better ending to the day's adventures.

18 Wheels

I won't be around, but I suggest you check out the free Murder City Devils show this Sunday. They're one of the cooler bands of the past 15 years and they won't be back anytime soon. Don't miss out!

Break Down the Walls

It's been three days and I'm already falling behind. Atlanta gave us a private swimming pool and a diving board to occupy ourselves with. We spent most of the day there, leaving with backs bright red from too many failed attempts at double front flips. From there it was 10 hours to DC in a cramped car to see Striking Distance and Damnation AD. After a couple hours of sleep, we hit the road again, this time aboard a bus to New York City.

I got home just in time to empty out my old room before our new roommate started bringing his stuff over. Never one for planning or time management, I headed to the Southernmost tip of Brooklyn with George in a failed search a new bike. Never enough time, but at least we got a cool flick out of the trip.

Life, Love, Regret

I've decided to try something new to keep this thing going. I've been on the road a lot lately and haven't really had time to write anything for the blog. I like to think my life is somewhat interesting, so I'm going to try to put up a couple pictures each day and write a little something about what I'm doing. Here goes nothing:




I've been on tour for almost two months now and yesterday we spent the day in Birmingham, Alabama. The temperature was upwards of 100 degrees Fahrenheit, making going outside downright miserable. Still, we braved the heat to check out a place called Bottle Tree, a restaurant about a 15 minutes walk from the venue. It was rumored to have some good vegan eats and Hank and I each ordered Buffalo Tofu Wraps. While they may not have been worth the $8.00, the meal was a nice break from the steady diet of pop tarts and clif bars I seem to have adopted lately.

On the walk back, Sean stumbled across a pigeon that seemed to be napping on the sidewalk. He picked up the bird, quickly realizing it wasn't sleeping at all. Nelson's mind was blown by the whole thing and we hurried back to the protection of the technological phenomenon we call a/c.

You Are Free

I left town for awhile, see you someday.

Turned Inside Out

This is quite possibly the coolest video on the internet...



Beyond the piercing cries, we're turned inside out.

Seekers of the Truth

Gotta get back, back to the truth...

Earlier this week, it was reported that the Obama administration had authorized the assassination of an American citizen. Intelligence officials believe Anwar al-Awlaki to be an operative of Al-Qaeda and they believe that he has engaged in attacks against the United States. However, the problem is exactly that. The administration believes. Awlaki has faced no trial, has had no opportunity to challenge the evidence brought against him or to prove his innocence. This authorization by the Obama administration represents extrajudicial justice at its worst. What kind of democratic society allows its leaders to arbitrarily kill its citizens when it believes them to be a threat to national security?

The adoption of a program of government assassinations of those who pose a “threat” to the country is a slippery slope to tread upon. Who is to say this category will not be extended to animal rights, environmental and other activists, many of whom are already considered to be terrorists under the Patriot Act and the AETA. A program of assassination based on assertions of secret evidence by the executive is nothing short of lunacy and violates the core principles of the American justice system.

The lack of an uproar over this issue is in itself a vindication of the poor state of American politics. Conservatives are content with Obama’s policy as it helps to further strengthen the power of the executive, something they have been trying to do for the past 8 years. Liberals on the other hand have been forced into a state of cognitive dissonance. For years they marched, protested, wrote and called for the prosecution of Bush and his administration. Yet just over a year later, they blindly support policies worse than anything even Bush had done. They continue to be deluded by their complete and utter infatuation with Obama, who has not only maintained, but has expanded the illegal powers asserted during Bush’s presidency, pushing the envelope in expanding executive power and suppressing the rule of law. One need look no further than Obama’s position on military tribunals, unauthorized surveillance, executive privilege, indefinite detention and now the murder of American citizens.

These reactions of the self-proclaimed liberals and progressives demonstrate the inability of Americans to critically examine developments in politics and society. They align themselves with a political party and cease to think about issues and ideas. Instead of truly reflecting upon their own opinions, they look to the party line to form their viewpoint. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the laziness inherent to American society or an indication of the dangers inherent of an infatuated populace. However, it certainly is not simply an issue of identity politics but rather a much larger danger embodied in the unwillingness and inability of the American public to critically examine themselves and the world in which they live.

...you know it was left behind.

Society Sucker

Western Haikus

I'm not hiding out, I'm far away.



Best kids, best band, best friends.

Born to Expire

See you next week.



Your life is a go, what do they know?



Better being alive than being dead cold.

Background Music

It's not often that I hear something new that really gets me excited. That being said, Balance and Composure put a new song online called Kaleidoscope and it's amazing. I've probably listened to it at least 100 times over the past two days. I've really been a sucker for this kind of music lately, and they do it perfectly. The song was recorded for a comp put out by No Sleep Records called, "No Sleep Till Death." Don't sleep on this band or you'll be missing out big time. www.myspace.com/balanceandcomposure




While you're at it, check out Danielle Parson's flickr, her photos are really cool and so is she. http://www.flickr.com/photos/babiidanii/

Best Wishes

I've been way too busy [lazy] lately to post any updates. I started working on a really cool new project that will probably take about a month, so maybe it will make it on here someday. Here are a few old things that never got posted.


A DPN shirt design that will be finished sooner or later.


I still have a bunch of these, get a hold of me if you want one.




Never forget.

Searchin for the truth is just keepin us alive

Cause I'm looking for the answers and I need a clue.

Desperate Measures

VS take 2. White ink will be the death of me.




And lest you start to forget...

Upstairs Downstairs

What happened to summer, endless milkshakes, midnight trips to the beach and the excitement of the unfamiliar?


I hope we meet again soon.

Begin Descension

Save Your Generation

If you could save yourself, you could save us all...

This past Friday marked the one-year anniversary of Barack Obama’s promise to close the Guantanamo Bay Detention Center. Doubtlessly a noble endeavor, Obama’s vow seemingly marked an end to the era of illegal detention and torture that had come to embody the Bush presidency. Civil libertarians rejoiced upon hearing of Obama’s plan and celebrated the dawning of a new chapter in government policy, a chapter that would most certainly be characterized by the prevalence of the rule of law and an incessant dedication to human rights.

In drawing up his plan, Obama had forgotten to take into account one key factor. He had seemingly overlooked his own lack of commitment to individual liberties and the promises he had made. Instead of honoring his word, Obama began to move in the opposite direction, censoring photographs depicting torture, maintaining secret prisons around the world and continuing illegal programs of domestic surveillance. Throughout, Obama continued to give speeches asserting his dedication to re-establish the ideals of freedom and liberty upon which this country was supposedly created. More time passed and little progress was made, yet liberals continued to champion Obama, recklessly forfeiting their own principles to support a man whom they sincerely hoped would change the violent and unlawful practices that had come to represent American Democracy.

However, Obama shattered these remnants of hope on Friday as he celebrated the one-year anniversary of his plan by not only failing to fulfill his vow, but by thrusting the knife a little deeper into the backs of onlookers in America and around the world. Friday, Obama announced the fate of the 196 prisoners remaining at the Guantanamo Bay prison, asserting that “nearly 50” of the detainees “should be held indefinitely without trial under the laws of war.” Officials claim that too little evidence exists to prosecute these detainees, but that they have been deemed too dangerous to be released. The implications of this argument are sadly humorous. These individuals will continue to be held without trial due to the fact that it cannot be proven that they ever did anything wrong. Such reasoning defies all logic and violates any rational approach to administering justice.

A more ironic and sadistic pronouncement to commemorate the anniversary of Obama’s promise to the American people could hardly be imagined. This decision further emphasizes Obama’s flagrant disregard for democratic principles and his dedication to preserving Bush-era policies. Now more than ever we need to stand up as Americans (whatever that means), as human beings and let the powers that be know that such ghastly transgressions will no longer be tolerated.

...your leap of faith could be a well-timed smile.

Can't Slow Down

I've been back to real life for less than a week and I am already starting to feel that itch for adventure and excitement.

Miles To Go

In case you're wondering where I've been for the past week and a half...






I finally finished them this morning. Find me on tour and pick one up!