If I'd heard

"you've got a pretty face" during Halloween weekend I might've cried.

I need to stop with the midday six hour naps.

Found out the co-owner of Tucson's only streetwear spot has been sitting across my AST classroom for the past six or so weeks, told me they're trying to get an SB account.. Bruce Bruce: Can you hook a brother up?!

I want to vocode like Imogen Heap. Jobo's been teaching me football, and her song "Wait It Out" (off this year's "Ellipse") I liken to a double reverse run (with a FB dive up the gut). So many intricacies in movement. Everything has to hit perfectly like a lightshow or fireworks display, the 0-line protecting the pocket and building drama like the minor fall to the major lift. Catching assigned blocks has got to be rhythmic synchronicity, and the plucked bassline at the 2:08 breathes a touchdown's triumph in a breakdown that's not quite Lamb of God but is every bit as moving.

Creed came back (not Bratton, he never left). I can see why they get hated on; their particular brand of power ballad can turn the stomach of a purist of heavier music, easy, and the press that frontman Scott Stapp has accumulated makes him look like a sloshed jerk - I'll exclude my longstanding beef with the secular. Still can't stand the way he adds "-ahh"to the ends of signal words like a televangelist from the deep south, be he looks like less of a daterapist now that he's shaved his head. Shit having been talked and even after those ill-advised side/solo projects, these guys can write songs well; I definitely butchered a line from "Stand Here with Me" during that speech for my parents. "A Thousand Faces" (off this year's "Full Circle") is a celebratory return to old form, easily the album's standout track. I'm very drawn to the call and answer in the chorus, layered rock so cheesy that Killswitch just may take inspiration for their next record. The song's bridge says Tremonti is still ripping that axe, and I like the suspicion posed by "You wear a thousand faces/ Tell me which is you."

Tungy just sent me Battle Studies.

who, what, why

I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our education system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.
- Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)

hallowizzle

I say "never again" because I like the Killswitch track - that being said, dudes in dresses (especialy strapless ones) are very not metal. Friday, spent way too much time pulling the stretchy top up so that my nips wouldn't show, girls are super silly for wearing those things. Message! You're lying to yourself if you don't think makeup equals false advertising. Jobo put on his marathon gear; daisy dukes went well with J4s, respect for showing so much thigh, sir. Krmn made a great bearded Billy Mays, and Swany went as a Chicago fan of some sort (crazy, right?).

Call me old-fashioned (I've definitely still got Levis from the 9th grade and those plaid pink Dunks I copied from Teppei circa 2001), but I like having things left to my overactive imagination: curves are more shapely in my mind's eye when covered up. Heifers were on display, flesh tartare on platters made of garter belts and fishnets - skin is the opposite of esteem for me, more a cry for help or attention than anything else. Guess I'm crazy for my lack of interest in damaged daughters with daddy issues. Bulls were on parade as well, probably it was the testosterone that kept them warm out of doors.

Saturday was LilWeez with Reddington folk a couple stone's throws from the house, I still haven't gotten all the Sharpie off my face and neck. Wish I didn't have so much trouble remembering names, work buddies seemed decent enough. Swany bailed again, not really too fettered because boys are boys and crooks return to the scene of the crime. We know these things. Predictability means no alarms, no surprises - and no dealing with disappointment.