Additional post 12/23:
I can't fucking believe NO ONE, including my wife, who is a rabid American Idol fan, ever told me that there was some jackass from Dover, Delaware with MY NAME that auditioned for American Idol! Now all the jokes I've made about auditioning have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.
Check it out. YOU may find it funny.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Guess I better keep this going :)
So.....how's everyone liking the weather?
I've always loved the snow. Problem is, I haven't had the chance to go play in it. The last...oh, about a week and a half has been spent lengthening my commute from roughly 50 minutes to giving myself an hour and a half.
Oh, by the way, that's EACH WAY. Yeah, driving from UP to up-the-hill Kent, as brutal as the daily slog can be in GOOD weather, has become damn near unbearable. I've received numerous texts from friends over this series of weather systems asking, suggesting, hell, even BEGGING me not to go in to work. I have two very important factors to consider every time this thought crosses my mind: 1) I've always been good at driving in the snow and ice, and more importantly, 2) single-income family. Me not going to work doesn't equal inability to pay rent [that's what Allie's job pays - free rent, gsw (I only put it that way for those familiar with that particular acronym in copspeak - gunshot wound - but in this case it means garbage/sewer/water), and yes, it does pay a small amount of cash each month on top of this], and thanks to Click recognizing she's the mgr, free cable. What it does equal is inability to pay bills and buy food. Those of you that know me personally, and I'm assuming the few reading this do, know that family is, was, and always has been very important to me. Therefore, I'm not afraid to drive carefully (with chains at the ready hahaha) through the slush, snow, and ice to provide for me and mine. I takes care of mine, son. Respek. Booyakasha.
That being said, I'll relate a little story to you. If you haven't noticed by now, this will probably be the most boring blog yet, but if you dig a little deeper and read a little further, those of you reading this that only know me as Watty from focuspoint will get (oh JOY) a further glimpse of who I am. I ended up spending Saturday night, the night of the blizzard/windstorm, at my good friend (and fellow worker) James' townhome a mile from our store. I am very fortunate not only to have a friend like James, but to have him live so close to our workplace and be kind enough to offer me a place to sleep whenever this sodded weather threatens my health. Thank you, James. We ended up eating three frozen pizzas between he, I, and another coworker that night while watching Iron Man. The next night, after about six further inches of snowfall, I decided that I must make my way home to see my wife and son....oh, and for a change of underpants. I ended up driving the 28 miles home at an average speed of 32 mph, even on the freeways. The comforting part was leading the procession of about 15 cars in the rightmost lane on I-5, all doing the same speed and giving each other the same berth, while the moronic douchebags in AWD/4WD vehicles (I'm INVINCIBLE!) blasted by us at 50-70 mph, blasting muck on our windshields every time. That wouldn't have been so bad had my fucking windshield wiper sprayers NOT BEEN FROZEN! In spite of all that nonsense, I made it home just fine, and without having to put my shiny-new-and-$60-a-pair chains on. I kissed my wife, slammed a few beers to staunch the adrenaline rush, spent some time looking upon my sleeping son, and slept a happy man.
The humor in this story lies in my commute to work yesterday afternoon. Seeing as it took me an hour and ten minutes to get home, I figured it'd be a good idea to leave at 1:00 pm for my 2:30 start time. I did this twice before in the last week, and all three times I ended up with the same conclusion.
I was over a half an hour early for work.
Needless to say, my store manager was pleased to see that I had made it to work, seeing as I had left him a note stating 'come hell or high water (or slush), I'm making it home tonight to retrieve said underpants' (yeah, the night prior he called me just before the end of my shift to implore me to stay at James').
So to recap: I'm good at driving in the snow, I care about my family, my friend James is a great man, Iron Man is a good movie, fellow car drivers love it when you know what you're doing (and hate it when you're a douchebag), showing up early to work is never a bad thing, and I'm the breadwinner of the family. Oh, and focuspoint is the best fucking band ever.
And since I've been pretty vanilla this entire post:
Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits (fart turd and twat).
We miss you, George Carlin. And a special thank you to Blink-182 for adding three more words to the list of "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television," as well as turning it into a song called "Family Reunion." Listen to it, you'll get a kick. I'm sure Carlin has.
Merry Christmas, you guys. And although most, if not all, of my friends are Christians, happy Chanukah and Solstice (for my few pagan friends). I refuse to wish you a happy Kwanzaa, because all the black people I know think it's more ridiculous than I do. If you're gonna try to create a black holiday, do a better job. Side note - if I ever tried to create a white holiday, I'd be fucking shot. Think about that, Jesse Jackson. Maybe my next blog will be debating the effects of creating a white version of the NAACP. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in any way a racist or a white supremacist (I myself am not 100% white), I just think it's a bit fucked up that black people are allowed to celebrate (and shove in the face of others) their ethnicity while white people are condemned for it.
Ah, fodder for the masses.
And once again, "the fucking lines are open."
Later.
I've always loved the snow. Problem is, I haven't had the chance to go play in it. The last...oh, about a week and a half has been spent lengthening my commute from roughly 50 minutes to giving myself an hour and a half.
Oh, by the way, that's EACH WAY. Yeah, driving from UP to up-the-hill Kent, as brutal as the daily slog can be in GOOD weather, has become damn near unbearable. I've received numerous texts from friends over this series of weather systems asking, suggesting, hell, even BEGGING me not to go in to work. I have two very important factors to consider every time this thought crosses my mind: 1) I've always been good at driving in the snow and ice, and more importantly, 2) single-income family. Me not going to work doesn't equal inability to pay rent [that's what Allie's job pays - free rent, gsw (I only put it that way for those familiar with that particular acronym in copspeak - gunshot wound - but in this case it means garbage/sewer/water), and yes, it does pay a small amount of cash each month on top of this], and thanks to Click recognizing she's the mgr, free cable. What it does equal is inability to pay bills and buy food. Those of you that know me personally, and I'm assuming the few reading this do, know that family is, was, and always has been very important to me. Therefore, I'm not afraid to drive carefully (with chains at the ready hahaha) through the slush, snow, and ice to provide for me and mine. I takes care of mine, son. Respek. Booyakasha.
That being said, I'll relate a little story to you. If you haven't noticed by now, this will probably be the most boring blog yet, but if you dig a little deeper and read a little further, those of you reading this that only know me as Watty from focuspoint will get (oh JOY) a further glimpse of who I am. I ended up spending Saturday night, the night of the blizzard/windstorm, at my good friend (and fellow worker) James' townhome a mile from our store. I am very fortunate not only to have a friend like James, but to have him live so close to our workplace and be kind enough to offer me a place to sleep whenever this sodded weather threatens my health. Thank you, James. We ended up eating three frozen pizzas between he, I, and another coworker that night while watching Iron Man. The next night, after about six further inches of snowfall, I decided that I must make my way home to see my wife and son....oh, and for a change of underpants. I ended up driving the 28 miles home at an average speed of 32 mph, even on the freeways. The comforting part was leading the procession of about 15 cars in the rightmost lane on I-5, all doing the same speed and giving each other the same berth, while the moronic douchebags in AWD/4WD vehicles (I'm INVINCIBLE!) blasted by us at 50-70 mph, blasting muck on our windshields every time. That wouldn't have been so bad had my fucking windshield wiper sprayers NOT BEEN FROZEN! In spite of all that nonsense, I made it home just fine, and without having to put my shiny-new-and-$60-a-pair chains on. I kissed my wife, slammed a few beers to staunch the adrenaline rush, spent some time looking upon my sleeping son, and slept a happy man.
The humor in this story lies in my commute to work yesterday afternoon. Seeing as it took me an hour and ten minutes to get home, I figured it'd be a good idea to leave at 1:00 pm for my 2:30 start time. I did this twice before in the last week, and all three times I ended up with the same conclusion.
I was over a half an hour early for work.
Needless to say, my store manager was pleased to see that I had made it to work, seeing as I had left him a note stating 'come hell or high water (or slush), I'm making it home tonight to retrieve said underpants' (yeah, the night prior he called me just before the end of my shift to implore me to stay at James').
So to recap: I'm good at driving in the snow, I care about my family, my friend James is a great man, Iron Man is a good movie, fellow car drivers love it when you know what you're doing (and hate it when you're a douchebag), showing up early to work is never a bad thing, and I'm the breadwinner of the family. Oh, and focuspoint is the best fucking band ever.
And since I've been pretty vanilla this entire post:
Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits (fart turd and twat).
We miss you, George Carlin. And a special thank you to Blink-182 for adding three more words to the list of "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television," as well as turning it into a song called "Family Reunion." Listen to it, you'll get a kick. I'm sure Carlin has.
Merry Christmas, you guys. And although most, if not all, of my friends are Christians, happy Chanukah and Solstice (for my few pagan friends). I refuse to wish you a happy Kwanzaa, because all the black people I know think it's more ridiculous than I do. If you're gonna try to create a black holiday, do a better job. Side note - if I ever tried to create a white holiday, I'd be fucking shot. Think about that, Jesse Jackson. Maybe my next blog will be debating the effects of creating a white version of the NAACP. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in any way a racist or a white supremacist (I myself am not 100% white), I just think it's a bit fucked up that black people are allowed to celebrate (and shove in the face of others) their ethnicity while white people are condemned for it.
Ah, fodder for the masses.
And once again, "the fucking lines are open."
Later.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Good morning.....infidels.
I'm gonna go ahead and start this one off with a little piece I like to call "Fuck you greedy American car companies, and although I'm sure it's gonna cause another downturn in our economy, I'd like to see you private-jet flyin', 85-90% pension payin', $70-an-hour (seriously, that's their average hourly rate, mostly because of the some-odd 350,000 people on said pension; compared to just $27/hr avg at Kia plants in the south) payin', gas-guzzling creatin', money-hungry pieces of shit buried by Christmas."
Actually, that pretty much sums it up. But since I have a penchant for overkill, I shall elaborate. What better forum to do so?
I fully realize that if things go the way I've outlined in my opening statement, we can expect more people laid off and subsequently applying/receiving unemployment. However, I have expressed my feelings about possible buyout plans. Where the fuck are the Germans when you need them? Hell, even the Belgians! They bought Anheuser-Busch, for Chrissake (and, yes, I've heard that the same company makes -yum- Stella Artois, though I haven't researched this yet). I'm sure they can do a better job of making Chevrolets than we've proven we can, and if not, fuck it, it's a Chevrolet - if you're stupid enough to want to buy a Chevy, chances are you can't afford one since you've already lost your job and are desperately trying to knock up your sister in hopes of making your welfare check just a little bit fatter. Hell, what readers am I going to offend because of that comment?
As I am wont to do, I was listening to KOMO 1000 on my way home from work earlier, spinning through the slush and openly ridiculing the three-car pileup on the onramp from SB I-5 to Hwy 16, I was listening to the ongoing saga of the 'Big Three' and their plight. Let's give a quick recap for those of you who haven't been paying attention. I'll make it simple:
-Representatives of the 'Big Three' (Ford, GM, and Chrysler) flew on INDIVIDUAL PRIVATE JETS to meet with the guv'ment about handouts, thinking that since Congress passed the multibillion-dollar bailout package for banks (read: financial institutions that handle your money semi-responsibly, not automakers out to make the cheapest car yet charge you a fucking arm and a leg), they might save these greedy assholes. Wrong.
-Not only did Congress publicly humiliate them by pointing out (and I'm paraphrasing) that they flew in on private jets to hold out their tin cups, the bailout package that the guv'ment actually put together FOR the aforementioned 'Big Three' was turned down by......the 'Big Three' because they'd have to take pay cuts. Hmmm...............
Lose your job.........take a pay cut? Which option sounds better (and probably sounded better to the employees who will cannibalize these corporate mucky-mucks)?
I'm in favor of what I believe was stated as 'Option Two' by the Bush administration, who is trying to help them out. If I remember correctly, it involved a short-term loan or two, and included the most important part - Forced. Restructuring.
I'll say that again. Forced. Restructuring. Bingo-bango, there's your ticket. The days of socially-accepted (yet grumbled about) golden parachutes are gone, boys. 'Shamefully caught in your failures." Time to fall on those broken knees. Kick those motherfuckers to the curb, and let's appoint....oh, I don't know, someone who realizes the shit we're in and can appreciate the fact that the higher-ups should not be making XXX% (even XXXX%) of the wage that his average employee makes! The only way for us to get out of this mess is for people to realize that greed is what got us here, practicality and a little melding of the social classes (and pay scales) is what will get us out. Please, people, I don't care who you voted for. Let's work together, cause for God's sake (for all our sakes), it's not only on president-elect Obama and the government to right the ship. We all have to push too, from the king of the shit heap to the lowliest dung beetle. Concessions. Pay cuts. What harm do these do when the price of gas has fallen to its lowest point in almost ten years, and groceries are slowly following suit? Cost of living, especially for those of us dependent on fossil fuels, has decreased exponentially. Case in point: I drive an '01 Saturn that has a 10.something-gallon tank. Three, four months ago it cost me the better part of $45 to fill it. Tonight I got 7.6 gallons for $13.36. Gas costs almost $3 A GALLON less than it did just a season ago! Working at a grocery store, I've watched the price of milk, bread, and eggs drop, as well as seeing sales the likes of which twenty-something consumers have never seen. My wife's jaw is bruised from the many times in recent weeks that it's hit the floor after I've come home with some of the deals I get, not as an employee, but simply as a customer. Seriously people, time to be a little more modest. Do what's good for the people. It's gonna happen anyway, just be a catalyst instead of a speedbump.
Or you could just get ran over.
Later.
Actually, that pretty much sums it up. But since I have a penchant for overkill, I shall elaborate. What better forum to do so?
I fully realize that if things go the way I've outlined in my opening statement, we can expect more people laid off and subsequently applying/receiving unemployment. However, I have expressed my feelings about possible buyout plans. Where the fuck are the Germans when you need them? Hell, even the Belgians! They bought Anheuser-Busch, for Chrissake (and, yes, I've heard that the same company makes -yum- Stella Artois, though I haven't researched this yet). I'm sure they can do a better job of making Chevrolets than we've proven we can, and if not, fuck it, it's a Chevrolet - if you're stupid enough to want to buy a Chevy, chances are you can't afford one since you've already lost your job and are desperately trying to knock up your sister in hopes of making your welfare check just a little bit fatter. Hell, what readers am I going to offend because of that comment?
As I am wont to do, I was listening to KOMO 1000 on my way home from work earlier, spinning through the slush and openly ridiculing the three-car pileup on the onramp from SB I-5 to Hwy 16, I was listening to the ongoing saga of the 'Big Three' and their plight. Let's give a quick recap for those of you who haven't been paying attention. I'll make it simple:
-Representatives of the 'Big Three' (Ford, GM, and Chrysler) flew on INDIVIDUAL PRIVATE JETS to meet with the guv'ment about handouts, thinking that since Congress passed the multibillion-dollar bailout package for banks (read: financial institutions that handle your money semi-responsibly, not automakers out to make the cheapest car yet charge you a fucking arm and a leg), they might save these greedy assholes. Wrong.
-Not only did Congress publicly humiliate them by pointing out (and I'm paraphrasing) that they flew in on private jets to hold out their tin cups, the bailout package that the guv'ment actually put together FOR the aforementioned 'Big Three' was turned down by......the 'Big Three' because they'd have to take pay cuts. Hmmm...............
Lose your job.........take a pay cut? Which option sounds better (and probably sounded better to the employees who will cannibalize these corporate mucky-mucks)?
I'm in favor of what I believe was stated as 'Option Two' by the Bush administration, who is trying to help them out. If I remember correctly, it involved a short-term loan or two, and included the most important part - Forced. Restructuring.
I'll say that again. Forced. Restructuring. Bingo-bango, there's your ticket. The days of socially-accepted (yet grumbled about) golden parachutes are gone, boys. 'Shamefully caught in your failures." Time to fall on those broken knees. Kick those motherfuckers to the curb, and let's appoint....oh, I don't know, someone who realizes the shit we're in and can appreciate the fact that the higher-ups should not be making XXX% (even XXXX%) of the wage that his average employee makes! The only way for us to get out of this mess is for people to realize that greed is what got us here, practicality and a little melding of the social classes (and pay scales) is what will get us out. Please, people, I don't care who you voted for. Let's work together, cause for God's sake (for all our sakes), it's not only on president-elect Obama and the government to right the ship. We all have to push too, from the king of the shit heap to the lowliest dung beetle. Concessions. Pay cuts. What harm do these do when the price of gas has fallen to its lowest point in almost ten years, and groceries are slowly following suit? Cost of living, especially for those of us dependent on fossil fuels, has decreased exponentially. Case in point: I drive an '01 Saturn that has a 10.something-gallon tank. Three, four months ago it cost me the better part of $45 to fill it. Tonight I got 7.6 gallons for $13.36. Gas costs almost $3 A GALLON less than it did just a season ago! Working at a grocery store, I've watched the price of milk, bread, and eggs drop, as well as seeing sales the likes of which twenty-something consumers have never seen. My wife's jaw is bruised from the many times in recent weeks that it's hit the floor after I've come home with some of the deals I get, not as an employee, but simply as a customer. Seriously people, time to be a little more modest. Do what's good for the people. It's gonna happen anyway, just be a catalyst instead of a speedbump.
Or you could just get ran over.
Later.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Good morning, all you non-readers.
I'm sure there's a way to check how many people have read/visited my blog, but as of right now, I'm not too concerned with researching this. Since little to no people read my myspace blog that advertises this human wreckage (sorry, faithful myspace readers, I don't mean to call you 'little'), I'm sure that even my own bandmates have yet to delve into what I will freely call my 'no bullshit' zone. Matter of fact, I think that once people gain knowledge of this detritus and peruse through it, I can accurately predict that I will have no readers. Ah, so it goes - my original intent is preserved. I am still fully content with vomiting my rantings into this semiabsorbent electronic aether that we call the Internet.
Let's take a trip into my life, shall we?
(Note: this may be even less profane than the last blog. Be warned.)
Success! I have created the most perfect child humankind could ever expect! My son Tristan, as the latest example proffered by my wife regarding Wednesday's outing shows, is absolutely immune to the total anarchy that most consider commonplace amongst infants/toddlers/hell, teenagers of this current age! They were enjoying lunch at Target amongst a fairly large group of families with young'uns, and while all the others were wailing and gnashing their teeth (yes, that's a biblical quote), Tristan was content in sitting quietly on Allie's lap as he is wont to do on mine, peacefully eating some pizza and, I'm sure, introspectively ridiculing the chaotic scene around them.
This is a child that lives to, when Mommy opens the door to our bedroom, walk in semi-quietly saying, "da-da? no-fln-be-neh-fuh-da-da? be-na-na-buh-doh-fleh-buh-neh-da-da? DA-DA?" and has the most ecstatic smile on his face when I roll over and greet him in the morning. He loves his mama, but (and I feel very guilty for this), he LOVES his dada. He loves to give the standard open-mouthed baby 'kiss' at random, and is also wont to crawling up on the coffee table so he can scootch over to me in my rocking chair and lay his head on my shoulder. He sits contentedly in my lap, sitting still enough to allow me to make the most difficult drives and lay-up shots on Tiger '09, cackling freely with me when I eagle a hole and silently conceding with me that I have just missed an easy putt. Usually, after the latter happens, he crawls away to read a book for a few minutes to let me silently mouth (and sometimes not-so-silently) the expletives my wife hates so much. Ironically, I try not to say such words as 'shit,' 'fuck,' and 'goddammit' around him, but lately one of the syllables he's adopted into his vocabulary is.....'shit.' I assume no responsibility for this.
Oh, regarding the band. Yes, we did end up having practice on Sunday. Yes, Paolo was somewhat hesitant to give the usual 'homie-hug' dap that I always offer to the boys. Should I blame him? In recent weeks, I took it upon myself to trumpet a 'call to arms' to the rest of focuspoint, seeing as we hadn't practiced in months. Yes, months. Was I delicate in my approach? Absolutely not. Should I have been? No, I don't think so. Did I piss off the other three at some (or several) points? Yes, I did. Did Sunday result in a renewed interest to soldier on?
You bet your fucking ass it did.
We ran through some of the ol' comfortables, then launched into a ten-minute extended outro of Learning Curve, after which we somewhat uncomfortably agreed that that was a fucking JAM, and we killed it. Paolo came to the table with some absolutely funky shit, and we jammed on two new riffs for the remainder of practice. Expect yet another newly-revamped angle in our next release....and just as a teaser, I've been also re-exploring the 'Project O/Lost in the Sound' side that I seem to have lost since I got married. It's funny how hard it is to write bittersweet, sometimes poignant, slowish songs when you haven't had a breakup in five years. I've felt a need (and have had a push to) explore the softer side of my lyrical muse(s) lately. The 'Alright' EP was a great example of how pissed off I can get (for examples, listen to....the whole fucking CD). I even took my own stab at a political song in 'When We Fall,' though I think Paolo's 'We Came Alive' is much better. Towards the end of practice, this phrase was tossed around a lot: "So when are you guys free next weekend?" as was "When can we get together again?" Jeremy threw a great idea out there, that should make some of you faithful salivate: "The next few times we get together, we should ignore our old catalogue. Let's get together like we're a new band, working solely on new shit." I'm paraphrasing, but I am absolutely positive he used 'shit' as a descriptive word. We had been hoping for a new release this last fall, but I'm positive we'll have something, at least in the way of a few-track teaser, by spring '09.
Imagine: Watty and P-loq take your mom out to a nice seafood dinner, then to a Chili Peppers concert, circa 1995, but Five Bolt Main is opening for them. You may not hear the rest of the story, specifically regarding the three of them and a seedy motel room, but for some reason Watty decides to write some mournfully poignant lyrics alluding to either what happened, what should have happened, or what might have been, and P-loq brings the funk like that's what really went down.
There's an idea.
Ok, I gotta get to sleep, Allie bought the new Batman movie and we were supposed to watch it tonight, so I'm hoping to compromise and get up early enough to watch it before (and maybe even after) work. Bye.
Let's take a trip into my life, shall we?
(Note: this may be even less profane than the last blog. Be warned.)
Success! I have created the most perfect child humankind could ever expect! My son Tristan, as the latest example proffered by my wife regarding Wednesday's outing shows, is absolutely immune to the total anarchy that most consider commonplace amongst infants/toddlers/hell, teenagers of this current age! They were enjoying lunch at Target amongst a fairly large group of families with young'uns, and while all the others were wailing and gnashing their teeth (yes, that's a biblical quote), Tristan was content in sitting quietly on Allie's lap as he is wont to do on mine, peacefully eating some pizza and, I'm sure, introspectively ridiculing the chaotic scene around them.
This is a child that lives to, when Mommy opens the door to our bedroom, walk in semi-quietly saying, "da-da? no-fln-be-neh-fuh-da-da? be-na-na-buh-doh-fleh-buh-neh-da-da? DA-DA?" and has the most ecstatic smile on his face when I roll over and greet him in the morning. He loves his mama, but (and I feel very guilty for this), he LOVES his dada. He loves to give the standard open-mouthed baby 'kiss' at random, and is also wont to crawling up on the coffee table so he can scootch over to me in my rocking chair and lay his head on my shoulder. He sits contentedly in my lap, sitting still enough to allow me to make the most difficult drives and lay-up shots on Tiger '09, cackling freely with me when I eagle a hole and silently conceding with me that I have just missed an easy putt. Usually, after the latter happens, he crawls away to read a book for a few minutes to let me silently mouth (and sometimes not-so-silently) the expletives my wife hates so much. Ironically, I try not to say such words as 'shit,' 'fuck,' and 'goddammit' around him, but lately one of the syllables he's adopted into his vocabulary is.....'shit.' I assume no responsibility for this.
Oh, regarding the band. Yes, we did end up having practice on Sunday. Yes, Paolo was somewhat hesitant to give the usual 'homie-hug' dap that I always offer to the boys. Should I blame him? In recent weeks, I took it upon myself to trumpet a 'call to arms' to the rest of focuspoint, seeing as we hadn't practiced in months. Yes, months. Was I delicate in my approach? Absolutely not. Should I have been? No, I don't think so. Did I piss off the other three at some (or several) points? Yes, I did. Did Sunday result in a renewed interest to soldier on?
You bet your fucking ass it did.
We ran through some of the ol' comfortables, then launched into a ten-minute extended outro of Learning Curve, after which we somewhat uncomfortably agreed that that was a fucking JAM, and we killed it. Paolo came to the table with some absolutely funky shit, and we jammed on two new riffs for the remainder of practice. Expect yet another newly-revamped angle in our next release....and just as a teaser, I've been also re-exploring the 'Project O/Lost in the Sound' side that I seem to have lost since I got married. It's funny how hard it is to write bittersweet, sometimes poignant, slowish songs when you haven't had a breakup in five years. I've felt a need (and have had a push to) explore the softer side of my lyrical muse(s) lately. The 'Alright' EP was a great example of how pissed off I can get (for examples, listen to....the whole fucking CD). I even took my own stab at a political song in 'When We Fall,' though I think Paolo's 'We Came Alive' is much better. Towards the end of practice, this phrase was tossed around a lot: "So when are you guys free next weekend?" as was "When can we get together again?" Jeremy threw a great idea out there, that should make some of you faithful salivate: "The next few times we get together, we should ignore our old catalogue. Let's get together like we're a new band, working solely on new shit." I'm paraphrasing, but I am absolutely positive he used 'shit' as a descriptive word. We had been hoping for a new release this last fall, but I'm positive we'll have something, at least in the way of a few-track teaser, by spring '09.
Imagine: Watty and P-loq take your mom out to a nice seafood dinner, then to a Chili Peppers concert, circa 1995, but Five Bolt Main is opening for them. You may not hear the rest of the story, specifically regarding the three of them and a seedy motel room, but for some reason Watty decides to write some mournfully poignant lyrics alluding to either what happened, what should have happened, or what might have been, and P-loq brings the funk like that's what really went down.
There's an idea.
Ok, I gotta get to sleep, Allie bought the new Batman movie and we were supposed to watch it tonight, so I'm hoping to compromise and get up early enough to watch it before (and maybe even after) work. Bye.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The usual mental vomit, but not quite as expletive-laden...
Sunday morning, early, and I just don't feel like going to bed yet. Worked almost 50 hours this week and I've been nothing but spent during my time off. Oh, wait, that's right, I've also found time to rant about Bush 2.0 and random other things that piss me off. Well, since I've designated this forum as my 'blowing off steam' area (much to my wife's chagrin), I hope you would expect nothing less than vomitus from the reptilian area of my brain, though for some reason she has felt the need (read some of my old myspace blogs) to encourage me to be somewhat reader-friendly, especially since some of the people I know/are related to tend to be somewhat sensitive to material using the words 'fuck,' 'shit,' 'goddammit,' and more of that nature.
I've chosen to (somewhat) clean up my myspace blog, but not here. Over the last few days, I've considered cleaning up my last post several times, then have had a few drinks, re-read it, and decided I wasn't nearly as profane as I should have been, so I've decided to leave it be. I sincerely hope it's not an enjoyable experience for you (it shouldn't be), but I hope it makes those who had their heads so far up their asses as to vote Dubya in for a second term think about the moronic actions they have taken. Didn't we vote FOR assisted suicide in WA? Maybe a few of them should look into that....
No, I'm not here to rant (today) about the piss-poor economy, nor the anguish over having to wait til my brother's birthday for Obama to be sworn in. I'm just here doing my quasi-civic duty, keeping this blog going.
To be honest, when I logged in, the first thought on my mind was my band focuspoint. If you're here on this blog, there's at least a 90% chance you know of it. If you happen to fall in that 'other' 10%, go to http://www.myspace.com/focuspointmusic and you'll see what you've been missing all this time. My main concern was that we haven't rehearsed/practiced/worked on new material/whatever the fuck you want to call it - since September. Mind you, Paolo (our bass player, check him out at http://paolojr.blogspot.com/) has been busy with his lovely girlfriend Amanda, as well as busting his ass at a PR firm (his major) and, to top it all off, going to grad school to further his crafty PR ways. Can't blame him for keeping busy. He's been the one booking all the shows and (considering his area of study) managing pretty much every avenue of the band. Kudos to that hard-working motherfucker. Danny, our drummer, has been working a day job at PIH, as well as trying to get his motorcycle shop, Woodward Cycle Works, off the ground. A close friend and fellow biker of his also just had a tragedy befall him, so Danny was busy lending support to him as well.
Combined, these things add up to two people trying to get their lives together, but as far as the band goes, this adds up to.....absolute fucking garbage.
When we got back together and decided to really go for it back in....meh, '06..., we all had this "take over the world" mentality. We had played together in high school, but had taken a break so that the previously mentioned members could pursue their collegiate/trade dreams out of state (while I settled for community college and Puddy did nothing at all). I had had this crazy idea about having our 'old' band play during my wedding reception whenever I got married, and what do you know, I ended up doing just that. Paolo was living in Bellingham at the time, and I contacted him about doing it.....long story short, we got back together, ran over the old shit, wrote some new shit, got back on the fucking horse. Shortly after that time, I was working fourteen hours a day, and after that solely working a graveyard shift, but I'd lose sleep on any given day of those times to get in a rehearsal session, and there were several times that I got offstage after a show only to go straight to work to pull a full shift. But I digress, apparently focuspoint is not an important enough cause to sacrifice 'valuable' time for. So we were all "take over the world," right? So it turns out that in rock and roll, yes, you actually do have to pay your dues! You have to put in work to reap the rewards, those being better dates at bigger venues, and more fans coming to your shows! God, who would ever be so jaded as to think that we were just going to make it overnight?
So my main concern sitting at this computer tonight has been whether or not we're actually going to get together tomorrow (actually, later today now). The last, I don't know, fifteen times SOMEone's dogged out (yes, I've done it once, but ONCE), and it looks like Puddy's "busy after 5" and Danny wants to get together at 6, so goddammit, we may be fucked again. Anyone know of a band that needs/wants a lead singer/guitarist? Preferably a band that likes Incubus/Green Day/Chevelle/Staind, is actually gigging, and isn't busy all the fucking time NOT playing music? Hit me up, I'm not kidding. I need to play some fucking music and I'm not getting the opportunity here.
Translated: I was pissed off about this a long time ago.
Once again, the lines are open! See ya later!
-Edit (and I choose this method so that my original thrust is still....thrusted): I am still open to creating side projects. I've got a lot of material that simply does not fit within the focuspoint structure, and so (to a lesser point) does Jeremy. However, until we're fully dissolved, focuspoint is and will always be my main musical focus. Just to throw that out there.
I've chosen to (somewhat) clean up my myspace blog, but not here. Over the last few days, I've considered cleaning up my last post several times, then have had a few drinks, re-read it, and decided I wasn't nearly as profane as I should have been, so I've decided to leave it be. I sincerely hope it's not an enjoyable experience for you (it shouldn't be), but I hope it makes those who had their heads so far up their asses as to vote Dubya in for a second term think about the moronic actions they have taken. Didn't we vote FOR assisted suicide in WA? Maybe a few of them should look into that....
No, I'm not here to rant (today) about the piss-poor economy, nor the anguish over having to wait til my brother's birthday for Obama to be sworn in. I'm just here doing my quasi-civic duty, keeping this blog going.
To be honest, when I logged in, the first thought on my mind was my band focuspoint. If you're here on this blog, there's at least a 90% chance you know of it. If you happen to fall in that 'other' 10%, go to http://www.myspace.com/focuspointmusic and you'll see what you've been missing all this time. My main concern was that we haven't rehearsed/practiced/worked on new material/whatever the fuck you want to call it - since September. Mind you, Paolo (our bass player, check him out at http://paolojr.blogspot.com/) has been busy with his lovely girlfriend Amanda, as well as busting his ass at a PR firm (his major) and, to top it all off, going to grad school to further his crafty PR ways. Can't blame him for keeping busy. He's been the one booking all the shows and (considering his area of study) managing pretty much every avenue of the band. Kudos to that hard-working motherfucker. Danny, our drummer, has been working a day job at PIH, as well as trying to get his motorcycle shop, Woodward Cycle Works, off the ground. A close friend and fellow biker of his also just had a tragedy befall him, so Danny was busy lending support to him as well.
Combined, these things add up to two people trying to get their lives together, but as far as the band goes, this adds up to.....absolute fucking garbage.
When we got back together and decided to really go for it back in....meh, '06..., we all had this "take over the world" mentality. We had played together in high school, but had taken a break so that the previously mentioned members could pursue their collegiate/trade dreams out of state (while I settled for community college and Puddy did nothing at all). I had had this crazy idea about having our 'old' band play during my wedding reception whenever I got married, and what do you know, I ended up doing just that. Paolo was living in Bellingham at the time, and I contacted him about doing it.....long story short, we got back together, ran over the old shit, wrote some new shit, got back on the fucking horse. Shortly after that time, I was working fourteen hours a day, and after that solely working a graveyard shift, but I'd lose sleep on any given day of those times to get in a rehearsal session, and there were several times that I got offstage after a show only to go straight to work to pull a full shift. But I digress, apparently focuspoint is not an important enough cause to sacrifice 'valuable' time for. So we were all "take over the world," right? So it turns out that in rock and roll, yes, you actually do have to pay your dues! You have to put in work to reap the rewards, those being better dates at bigger venues, and more fans coming to your shows! God, who would ever be so jaded as to think that we were just going to make it overnight?
So my main concern sitting at this computer tonight has been whether or not we're actually going to get together tomorrow (actually, later today now). The last, I don't know, fifteen times SOMEone's dogged out (yes, I've done it once, but ONCE), and it looks like Puddy's "busy after 5" and Danny wants to get together at 6, so goddammit, we may be fucked again. Anyone know of a band that needs/wants a lead singer/guitarist? Preferably a band that likes Incubus/Green Day/Chevelle/Staind, is actually gigging, and isn't busy all the fucking time NOT playing music? Hit me up, I'm not kidding. I need to play some fucking music and I'm not getting the opportunity here.
Translated: I was pissed off about this a long time ago.
Once again, the lines are open! See ya later!
-Edit (and I choose this method so that my original thrust is still....thrusted): I am still open to creating side projects. I've got a lot of material that simply does not fit within the focuspoint structure, and so (to a lesser point) does Jeremy. However, until we're fully dissolved, focuspoint is and will always be my main musical focus. Just to throw that out there.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Hey, what do you know, I may just continue on this...
Hello. HELLO-ello-ello-ello.....
Watty here. Blogging in what may end up being a semi-continuous blog, now that I've posted on my wife's blog and people can actually find this now. Yes, this was a blog created, I think, as nothing less than a vacuum into which I could vomit my rage and malcontent. I was very pleased with the fact that only those who typed in the vaguest of searches could find this blog. Well, welcome to my anti-Myspace blog.
Okay, now that we've dispensed with the formalities....
I'm supremely pleased with the fact that Bush 2.0 is myopically recalling his eight years of terror. It's hilarious to hear him point out his few successes, the latest broadcast on KOMO 1000 showing his declaration that the 'war on AIDS' has come to his standard of fruition ahead of schedule and above the goal. Yay, one of your few victories! Maybe you should have focused on the AIDS cases within your own fucking country, dipshit! Jesus, would someone fucking shut this man up? Two words, LAME DUCK. Keep your fucking mouth closed and maybe we might NOT put you down in history as the worst president this country has ever seen. No one will forget your catastrophic failure (as I've pointed out before) regarding this country's economy! At the risk of repeating myself, you tanked every fucking corporation you had the luck to head before, and woe is us now - your hardon to finish what your father couldn't has cost us billions every month! Paraphrasing a later quote from the same excerpt: "I wasn't prepared to go to war." Had you continued your war against those who raped our country on 9/11 instead of inexplicably shifting your focus to Iraq, we may (MAY, yes, I'm not thinking his 'war on terror' would have ended with the destruction of al-Qaida) have ended up with bin Laden's head on a stake, proudly marched through the streets of New York (and yes, I would have watched and cheered this on).
Now, we're stuck with a little bit of a dilemma, aren't we? The Dow seems to be as fickle as....well, name the most bitchy female you've ever dated or had the misfortune to marry and I'll compare it to her menstrual cycle :). I'm 26 at this very moment, and I've had several opportunities to proudly exclaim to my wife, "Hey honey, thank God I don't really have much invested in the stock market!" I cringe when I think of what my parents' and grandparents' investments have suffered. However, I am not so naive - I think about the fact that when some of them retired, they also had something that most of us view as the 'unicorn' of retirement - a pension. What is that, you say? To be honest, I can't give you a full definition. I haven't researched it, because I know without a doubt that whatever company has the benefit of calling me an employee will never offer me such a mythical payout. So you and I in our 'age bracket' (seriously, all of us from 16-54) can expect nothing from the vacuum called Social Security, and are looking at whatever 'portfolios' you may own in the same regard you would your Labradoodle's deposit on your $450,000 Wallingford condo's hardwood floor - the value of which is probably rapidly depreciating because of the fact that the rest of your building's condos are being auctioned off at roughly half the value they held a year ago.
Welcome to the decline. Or more appropriately, welcome to the equalization.
I work at a grocery store, as some of you know. I have my bitter moments, watching people walk into my checkstand wearing gear and bling that costs more than 4 months' of my pay paying for their food with an EBT card (for the ignorant, that's the modern version of foodstamps), then whipping out a wad of 20's bigger around than my cock (and yes, I've been blessed, thank you) to pay for their beer and cigarettes. Let me just take a quick time out to say:
FUCK YOU LEECHING PIECES OF WORTHLESS SHIT.
For the record, I voted for Obama, and for fuck's sake I am more interested in his overhaul of government than I would ever be in the check I'm going to be given because of it. Let's hope his first order of business is to reform the abortion our country calls the welfare program, because I see people who deserve it, but everywhere I work I see more who are abusing the system, breeding more spawn to get more pay and (yes) encouraging their underage daughters to get pregnant to further the situation.
Fuck it, I'm done for tonight. The lines are open. I'm gonna go do something more worthwhile - writing the lyrics down that have been bouncing around my head all night. Trust me - you'll hear them later.
Bye.
Watty here. Blogging in what may end up being a semi-continuous blog, now that I've posted on my wife's blog and people can actually find this now. Yes, this was a blog created, I think, as nothing less than a vacuum into which I could vomit my rage and malcontent. I was very pleased with the fact that only those who typed in the vaguest of searches could find this blog. Well, welcome to my anti-Myspace blog.
Okay, now that we've dispensed with the formalities....
I'm supremely pleased with the fact that Bush 2.0 is myopically recalling his eight years of terror. It's hilarious to hear him point out his few successes, the latest broadcast on KOMO 1000 showing his declaration that the 'war on AIDS' has come to his standard of fruition ahead of schedule and above the goal. Yay, one of your few victories! Maybe you should have focused on the AIDS cases within your own fucking country, dipshit! Jesus, would someone fucking shut this man up? Two words, LAME DUCK. Keep your fucking mouth closed and maybe we might NOT put you down in history as the worst president this country has ever seen. No one will forget your catastrophic failure (as I've pointed out before) regarding this country's economy! At the risk of repeating myself, you tanked every fucking corporation you had the luck to head before, and woe is us now - your hardon to finish what your father couldn't has cost us billions every month! Paraphrasing a later quote from the same excerpt: "I wasn't prepared to go to war." Had you continued your war against those who raped our country on 9/11 instead of inexplicably shifting your focus to Iraq, we may (MAY, yes, I'm not thinking his 'war on terror' would have ended with the destruction of al-Qaida) have ended up with bin Laden's head on a stake, proudly marched through the streets of New York (and yes, I would have watched and cheered this on).
Now, we're stuck with a little bit of a dilemma, aren't we? The Dow seems to be as fickle as....well, name the most bitchy female you've ever dated or had the misfortune to marry and I'll compare it to her menstrual cycle :). I'm 26 at this very moment, and I've had several opportunities to proudly exclaim to my wife, "Hey honey, thank God I don't really have much invested in the stock market!" I cringe when I think of what my parents' and grandparents' investments have suffered. However, I am not so naive - I think about the fact that when some of them retired, they also had something that most of us view as the 'unicorn' of retirement - a pension. What is that, you say? To be honest, I can't give you a full definition. I haven't researched it, because I know without a doubt that whatever company has the benefit of calling me an employee will never offer me such a mythical payout. So you and I in our 'age bracket' (seriously, all of us from 16-54) can expect nothing from the vacuum called Social Security, and are looking at whatever 'portfolios' you may own in the same regard you would your Labradoodle's deposit on your $450,000 Wallingford condo's hardwood floor - the value of which is probably rapidly depreciating because of the fact that the rest of your building's condos are being auctioned off at roughly half the value they held a year ago.
Welcome to the decline. Or more appropriately, welcome to the equalization.
I work at a grocery store, as some of you know. I have my bitter moments, watching people walk into my checkstand wearing gear and bling that costs more than 4 months' of my pay paying for their food with an EBT card (for the ignorant, that's the modern version of foodstamps), then whipping out a wad of 20's bigger around than my cock (and yes, I've been blessed, thank you) to pay for their beer and cigarettes. Let me just take a quick time out to say:
FUCK YOU LEECHING PIECES OF WORTHLESS SHIT.
For the record, I voted for Obama, and for fuck's sake I am more interested in his overhaul of government than I would ever be in the check I'm going to be given because of it. Let's hope his first order of business is to reform the abortion our country calls the welfare program, because I see people who deserve it, but everywhere I work I see more who are abusing the system, breeding more spawn to get more pay and (yes) encouraging their underage daughters to get pregnant to further the situation.
Fuck it, I'm done for tonight. The lines are open. I'm gonna go do something more worthwhile - writing the lyrics down that have been bouncing around my head all night. Trust me - you'll hear them later.
Bye.
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