what the fffffffff`

the time, I could have sworn I was going to update here more often than this and I look and days go by when I think I just updated here yesterday... and the weekend, where does the weekend go?... my roommates, mostly... watching TV, a bit, but more, jabbering and listening... and Saturday, a concert at the House of Blues... we saw Inkwell, The Spill Canvas, and Mae... we went for The Spill Canvas, even though the weren't the headliners... they are my latest favorite new band... go listen (read the lyrics) and you'll see just what sort of girly man drama queen I am deep down... my all time favorite is Harry Chapin, remember?... clue...

I am such a sucker for the angst, the tears, the emotion, the catharsis, the twists, the good moral lessons (ummm, suicide is not the answer, m'ok?)... if I knew the names of songs I would tell you my favorites, but I don't know the names of the songs... I can sing them, quote them, love them, but don't know their names... I've become a song-slut... and besides, they sound like good old-fashined mid-western agnostics... maybe even hedonistic atheists, but with a healthy perspective too...

the lead singer will have girls swooning in no time (if he gets over his misogynistic whining) and the band is tight (though I'd love to see them add a keyboard and strings like Harry had)... I'll probably drone on about them more in other entries, but I just seem to be doing it now anyway even though I just got off a seventeen hour shift and have been awake for too long to remember how long I've been awake and want to fall over and die -

we all flirt with the tiniest notion
of self conclusion in one simplified motion
you see the trick is that you're never supposed act on it
no matter how unbearable this misery gets

            - but not really... the song is called Self-Conclusion and he does it solo and kicks ass... and don't get me started on The Tide

heaven's not a place that you go when you die
it's that moment in life when you actually feel alive

and I am just scratching the surface of the tip of the iceberg and melting and flooding me with emotional charges like music did when I was a teenager (so I am not dead yet, wonderful news)... who knows, once the floodgates open and music rushes back into me, I might start actually feeling alive again and hearing and experiencing and singing (omigosh, I could be going pathetically emo)...

but for now I will drink a lot of water and take my vitamins and go to sleep because I have to be back at work in five hours...

nite nite J