| Life is like a hurricane . . . |
[29 Sep 2009|12:02pm] |
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mood |
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creative |
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music |
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Disney Afternoon Intro Theme Music |
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Adulthood is one big clusterfuck of shit I would like to accomplish but haven't found/figured out how to make the time for.
I want to code more. I miss that feeling of joy that comes from writing something that does what you want it to do. Alas, I really need to get to the point where the simple forms and structures and concepts come to me way more quickly. Practice makes perfect . . . but what to practice? I am truly out of it.
Voice lessons would be a big plus. Sometime in the past year or so, having been surrounded by the best singers in barbershop, most pride in my voice went away. It could be a whole lot better. It would be a nice for a professional to point me in the right direction. I could likely be way more impressive in this respect.
For reasons I can't really understand, I would like to find a martial art that truly suits me and study it. I am certainly no fighter, and I am not the sort who often has to physically defend myself either (really my biggest danger comes from roving, chew-toy-seeking Chloes these days). However, I have observed a number of my friends study some martial art (or multiple, in some cases) for years, and I envy the bodily awareness they seem to have. They also move very easily in general, and I think I would like that for myself.
I need way more practice at arranging music. Oddly enough, if I had sufficient practice at either, I would likely conclude that arranging music and writing code fill a similar want within me . . . perhaps a similar niche as a creative outlet. It turns out that an education in 18th-century tonal harmony is only a basic starting point for other styles - especially if you want to arrange for the first time. Suffice it to say, barbershop and Bach disagree on a few vital points.
Now layer all the aforementioned shit on top of the books I want to read, games I want to play, women I want to see, etc. . . . how does anyone manage all this shit?
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[09 Jun 2009|11:12am] |
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mood |
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 relaxed |
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music |
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No More Kings - "About Schroeder" |
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I am in a probably-temporary state of altered brain chemistry.
This past weekend, Voices of Gotham held a show in a church in the West Village. I sang with the chorus and two quartets over the course of the program and managed to survive somehow. Thankfully, our director likes to keep a lively pace . . . so the show was actually pretty short. It left me with this grandiose feeling of nobility as I drowned in accolades afterwards, including exactly the one such compliment I was hoping to hear. A few people who haven't really had the opportunity to come see any of my stuff were in attendance, and I am still excited that they enjoyed the show. Seriously . . . anyone who missed it missed out. The afterglow featured more singing, including my participation in three more quartet performances (because I am a sucker for punishment) and further riding upon a post-performance high that I haven't felt since the Originals came to sing at NYU . . . and before that, after playing The Wiz for Scotch 'n' Soda at CMU.
More generally, however, something else feels different. For a while now, I have been thinking that sex is something everybody should have the opportunity to be having at any given time (insert appropriate qualifiers here). This thought has usually sat on top of a bunch of bitterness, however, due to my own lack of luck in the womenfolk department. These days, I think I am genuinely believing the stuff I am saying (well, moreso than I was before, it's not that I never believed what I was saying). I feel genuinely excited on behalf of other people when I hear about new developments in their romantic lives, without a trace of "why can't I have that" . . . no envy or bitterness or anything like that. It's a rather light feeling. Maybe I'm coming down with something.
. . . maybe I need to work out more consistent language to explain myself; that wasn't very good.
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| Hmmm . . . |
[21 Apr 2009|02:45pm] |
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music |
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Barenaked Ladies - "Alcohol" |
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Who remembers all the old Stuy incest stuff? My memory is not so suited to retaining soap opera details . . .
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| You'd think my 402nd-ever journal post . . . no, that's enough of that. |
[13 Apr 2009|10:46am] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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music |
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Tally Hall - "Be Born" |
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Sometime soon, I'm really going to have to figure out how to spend less than an hour in bed after waking up next to someone cute. It seems like a reasonably necessary skill to function properly as a member of society.
Is it ok to feel uncomfortable around people who sound like self-help books/church pamphlets? This is not necessarily a matter of message so much as tone . . .
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| You'd think my 401st-ever journal post would be more . . . substantial |
[10 Apr 2009|03:56pm] |
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mood |
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 anxious |
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music |
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some Cake song on Pandora |
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For the past few days I've been feeling like I have a bunch of stuff I need to say, to let out of my system. It has infused me with this nervous restlessness and energy. But . . . I don't know what any of it is.
. . . hate that shit.
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| You'd think my 400th-ever journal post would be more profound |
[06 Apr 2009|10:52am] |
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mood |
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hahahahahaha |
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music |
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Rockapella - "Crazy 'bout an Automobile" |
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It never occurs to me just how much Independence Day sex there is until I find myself observing everyone and their mothers' birthday for the first two weeks of April.
Speaking very peripherally of which, the topic of orgies came up this weekend - they mostly seem like a great idea only in theory to me. After some conversation, Karen assured me that I could handle two women at once, but I remain unconvinced. I told her that the only way to properly settle this would be to try it out.
We'll see.
. . . maybe.
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| (insert inspirational-yet-overdone quote on how singing is the shit here) |
[31 Mar 2009|11:59am] |
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mood |
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 sick |
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music |
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Jonathan Coulton - "Ikea" |
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This hasn't been a singing/music blog for a while. Nonetheless, singing comprises a great deal of my time expenditure these days. That having been said . . .
I really need to learn how to sing.
Yes, at some point, I am actually going to muster up the funds to get actual lessons. I have a number of goals with regards to my voice, and many of them are based in being able to do what I am supposed to be doing right now. I am often the only one singing high tenor in the context of VoG, and I find myself doing the same in a couple of quartets. It's taken long enough to learn and become familiar with standard concepts in singing that voice part, but apparently I need to be heard as well. While I have always considered tenor to be the least important part, it still needs to be heard . . . so I suppose my current goal is improving projection. This will make all that work I've done on handling the unique challenges of the past couple of years (namely holding notes forever) seem like it never happened.
It truly bothers me that while I know I sing softly, even when I think I am being very loud no one can hear me. I think that somewhere along the line, I developed a fear of being heard. When would such a thing have happened? I used to sing solos with the Originals and other parts in which I had to come out . . . so this must be a post-college phenomenon. Could it be all the emphasis barbershop places on precision? Ever since I've started I haven't really sung out unless I thought I couldn't be heard (being one of many on a voice part in a large chorus, for example) . . . and relying on 20 other guys to be around so I can sing in my best quality is irritating. In my efforts to blend I think I've forgotten how to sing naturally.
Let the record show, however, that I have always been the sort of person to spontaneously burst into song (just like the Facebook group) and have developed a habit of quickly shutting the hell up if I think someone on the street has heard me.
There is some combination of mental block and shitty singing technique going on here, and I really need to fix it.
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| brain condoms |
[24 Mar 2009|11:08am] |
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mood |
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anxious |
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How exactly does one forcibly remove a given mental habit from his/her thought processes, anyway? It occurs to me that as time has passed, I as a person have changed (well, duh) . . . but how much of that was specifically a conscious effort? Do people ever just fundamentally change on purpose?
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| I really tried to avoid posting this . . . |
[05 Nov 2008|04:45pm] |
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mood |
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 pessimistic |
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music |
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Four Freshmen - "Angel Eyes" |
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It seems there is plenty to think about after the past bunch of days.
In relevant news (and in a fit of modernism), the USA elected Barack Obama to be the 44th president. This, believe it or not, has me feeling very confused inside. Of course, I am filled with excitement and hope, and I imagine most people who have heard him speak at least once would have trouble feeling otherwise, regardless of more traditional political leanings. Hell, given everything happening around me in the past 24 hours, I really had no choice but to feel uplifted. On the way home after an election day party, for example, a Brooklyn-bound 2 train unloaded a crowd of rowdy kids, Normally, cheering teenagers would be a source of annoyance for any New Yorker, but seeing a few of them high-fiving the conductor on the train's way out of the station, it was impossible not to grin. Crowds of people blocked up streets in Brooklyn Heights, a normally rather quaint and quiet neighborhood. Droves of people wore shirts reading PRESIDENT OBAMA on the Times Square subway station. I also woke up this morning to bajillions of Facebook status changes to the tune of "X cannot stop smiling", "WOO HOO", "X is finally proud to be an American", and of course "YES WE CAN". There is simply this ridiculous outpouring of good feeling around me that leaves little to independent emotion.
However, I still have reservations . . . maybe it's the worrying I've done about everything in my life for the past 3+ months straight, maybe I've developed an aversion to happiness, maybe I just can't fathom how Proposition 8 in California is even close to being a discussion (I mean, really? what's happening to my West Coast brethren?) . . . who knows. I can't help but wonder if Obama's going to make it through an entire term. Furthermore, while this country has taken a giant step in actually electing the man, we haven't seen him in action yet. I might actually be unable to commit to 100% excitement until he's actually changed shit. Furthermore, as I'm sure everyone has noticed, emotional stakes were really fucking high this time around. For all of my celebrating peers, there are still plenty of people who probably are suffering from a severe case of dread. I almost feel like it would be appropriate to give these people my condolences, like we were at some sort of funeral. Had McCain won, I'm sure the other chunk of the country would feel and share the same misery. There are also those Hillary supporters who have been mad enough to abandon the Democratic ticket ever since she lost the primary . . . I don't know that anything would make them happy at this point. I'm hoping that over time all the tension built up from the election can dissipate . . . despite my limited exposure to non-Obama supporters, it's driving me crazy. I'm very wary about talking politics these days because I don't really want to make anyone feel miserable.
Really, folks . . . come to the show in Manhattan on November 14 and buy tickets soon. You won't be disappointed.
That's all the shit I have to say about relevant topics.
My recent return to the city is also contributing to my mixed and confused feelings right now. This past weekend was Halloween weekend, and for the third year in a row, I went to Pittsburgh to celebrate. For the third year in a row, it was one of the best times I've had. I spent my weekend getting to know a couple of people I had only briefly met last year. Ashe took me to see Radio Golf, which I recommend to everybody (especially you terrible people who may have never heard of August Wilson). I got to see Melanie again. Additionally, for some reason, they are still treating me like royalty over there, dropping my name like it carries as much weight as Chuck Norris' or something. Suffice it to say (and despite the overall shittiness of Pittsburgh as a place), it is very easy for me to go there for any extended period of time and completely forget how my life is supposed to be. This is dangerous, I learned yesterday, because of the "eventual return" part of any Pittsburgh trip. This part is both necessary and grounding, and this time around I returned to new (but completely expected) bullshit to sit on top of everything else.
You know what? If the country can manage a turning point of epic proportions, maybe I can too. We'll see.
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| 3 minutes of fame |
[24 Oct 2008|02:22am] |
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mood |
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tired |
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music |
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Acoustix - "All The Way" |
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My LiveJournal home page tells me this journal was "Last updated 7 weeks ago." Why such a long gap between entries? I remember waaayyy back in the day when the rule was "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." With any luck, that state will soon change.
These days I have been either interviewing my ass off or singing my ass off (what do I even sit with anymore?). Tonight I had a Voices of Gotham rehearsal, in which I had to sing not-my-own-part on perhaps the hardest song I've ever seen. Rehearsals are very important these days because we have our first ever annual show on Friday, November 14. We've come a long way in a relatively short time, and this promises to be an entertaining show.
No, seriously, come to our show. We're actually pretty good.
Anyway, barbershop dorks like myself enjoy following up rehearsals with three important things: food, beer, and more singing. After fulfilling the first two desires, a few of us hung out on the corner outside the bar we drank at and sang. We were there for 2 hours. I lost count of how many random people on the street came up to us after we finished a song or a tag to compliment us - at which point Dan would bust out the business cards and show postcards and start handing them out. I wonder if we managed to actually interest that many people enough in coming to our show. Eventually, we were asked by the manager of the bar to come sing a couple of songs for the people in their live music venue. All 15 people in the audience truly appreciated our two songs.
I'm . . . almost famous . . . ish . . . at least it can feel that way when you attract so much attention by Times Square (a very good place to sing on the street, apparently).
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[05 Aug 2008|12:54am] |
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. . . is it over yet?
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| peace |
[26 Jul 2008|01:06am] |
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music |
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Maroon 5 - "Little of Your Time" |
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Well . . . I just saw off one of the more significant people in my life. We clobbered at the bridge club (we didn't really clobber, but I seem to remember qualifying across the board for A, B, and C strata with 2nd, 2nd, and 1st respectively in our section). After some pasta and way less drinking than I was aiming for, we called it a night.
Until next I see you, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) belcantin, whenever that may be. I know you'll enjoy the shit out of Japan. I'd even be willing to be that Japan will enjoy the shit out of you too. You will return to the Western World devoid of shit, in fact.
I wish it didn't take so long for certain significant shit in my life to register.
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| moved |
[23 Jun 2008|02:53pm] |
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music |
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Girlyman - "This Is Me" |
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I am officially relocated. Thanks to the help of a small army, getting a bunch of stuff into the apartment followed by pizza and Smash was a relatively simple goal to achieve. Now to get into more having-people-over-for-shit hijinks.
The apartment is great. It's located well and spacious enough for company and in a newish building. My room is easily the most depressing part of the place, but that is being rectified. I managed to put a lamp in to provide light and there's now a computer desk waiting to be assembled. All I need now is a new bed (one on a bedframe, perhaps) to call it a day. My biggest accomplishment for this move is probably the small number of leftover boxes of stuff to unpack at this point in time.
As I've said before, it's easy to immerse oneself in unearthed old shit, especially when unpacking or repacking with respect to a recent move. However, I found myself going through saved AIM conversations with/about just about everybody in my life ever instead of sleeping when I was supposed to last night.
Tiiiiiime to return to the present.
If an opportunity to see Jonathan Coulton and/or Paul & Storm should arise, take it. I had the immense pleasure of seeing them at the Highline Ballroom a couple of nights ago. They just keep getting better and better at what they do.
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| movin' on up |
[12 Jun 2008|12:53am] |
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mood |
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restless |
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music |
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Girlyman - "Fall Stories" |
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I have had to move 5 times in my life thus far, and none of those times were particularly pleasant experiences. The first time was, of course, being upended from a secure New York life to live with family in Avon, CT when my mother passed away - while the results of this move did eventually give me some measure of happiness, at the time there was nothing to look forward to. Other moves happened under far less absurd circumstances, but the idea of packing everything away in tons of boxes only to carry it all away and unpack it elsewhere never struck me as worth the effort. I have always especially disliked the moving of large furniture and its navigation around the obstacles of doorways, narrow stairwells, other furniture, etc.
This weekend, on Sunday, I will be moving for the 6th time in my life. This move is special because it represents one of my final concessions to the circumstances of adult life in the Real World - having my name on a lease (with all the challenges such a situation implies). By now I should be an old hand at all of this relocation shit. Tonight, however, I faced one of the more difficult steps in this moving process . . . one I didn't anticipate: nostalgia. It becomes very hard to focus on the task at hand when I come across these stashes of letters from back in the day. The main feature of this collection of old letters came from a combination of summer and winter break apart from Nina in 2000 and early 2001, but I still saw envelopes and letters from all sorts of other people - Jessa, Becca, Megan, and even a letter from Brett Collings and a couple from Tierney. A couple from Jen Covert Horan (I will never get used to that) made me grin and reminded me of a time when she and I were really close. Unfortunately, time marches on (alternatively, pick your favorite cliche to put here). I am a much different person now, as are the aforementioned people I haven't communicated with in umpteen years. Things are simply different, much as I would sometimes like that to be false. Life and separation got in the way . . . though I sometimes wonder if I shouldn't have tried harder to continually bridge the geographical gap.
I wonder if any of these people remember writing me any of these letters.
I would love to have all these people come visit me in my new place once I'm fully moved. In fact, one of the most exciting aspects of this new place is having some means of entertaining friends. In the case of most of my Avon friends, this is probably idle dreaming.
The best specific aspect of all the old letters was probably remembering this massive outpouring of love of many kinds at me. Back in high school, most interactions felt like they had a built-in time limit which expired with the onset of college. Perhaps separation by college felt more final than anything else had up until that point in life, and perhaps that facilitated more intense emotions as a result. Would I ever expect to send or receive such mail at this point in life? Who knows? If not, I can at least remember a simpler time where it felt less important to hold back.
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[02 Jun 2008|10:30am] |
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I move to a new place in Long Island City on the 15th . . . who wants to help Ian and me move boxes and such around that day?
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| celebrate life |
[11 Apr 2008|10:50am] |
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music |
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Da Vinci's Notebook - "Another Irish Drinking Song" |
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So I was explaining the circumstances around my mother's death umpteen years ago to Chloe last night and she helped me realize something. I was telling her about how one of the main things going through my head during the funeral was "I hate funerals" (not restricted to those in honor of loved ones in my life), and it occurred to me: no mopey shit when I die. I 100% respect the idea of a service or some event in honor of one who passes, but for my passing I want some smiles around. Let the booze flow freely. Play some good music. Regale each other with good memories if the spirit moves you. Just don't suffocate each other with the heavy atmosphere of excessive mourning and formal black clothing.
I like the idea of an Irish wake, despite the lack of Irish in me.
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