vern1

It’s been a couple days at home, too long since played with a word processor recreationally and done non-required readings. So far its NO$ (minus the GBA) but I’m mostly cool with it.

Late WEDNESDAY night, Plee showed up a couple hours earlier than scheduled with a change of departure plans. I’m finding life to be more and more adaptation and improvisation than preparation and practice. Said goodbye to the Longfellow Club, it’ll be the lengthiest stint I’ll have been away from the house since we’d moved in. Farewells tasted better on my palate than anything bittersweet, this was more like Sour Starburst. Or Skittles. It's a good thing I have a bib on. I’ll miss roomys and my boys at Lester and Tyndall.

We departed far too early on THURSDAY morning and drove through the night, her pops was very concerned I was comfortable the whole trip. We talked succulent and juicy things (she knew that girl, too) before playing a game went like this: Doc named a band/musical artist and I had to come up with the same for the last letter of the name she came up with. We went back and forth, washed, rinsed, and repeated. For variety’s sake we said that first and last names could be used; numbers used as they were or spelled out. No prizes or penalties involved, having mentalize things seemed like undue punishment after a spell. Way too many S’s and Y’s; she dug into her classical composer repository, me into my vat of obscure metal acts. Our brains shut down after a couple hours and we catnapped at a rest stop. She believed the pig I’d seen a hundred yards away on awakening too massive and ugly to be real, it totally was (real, massive, and ugly). Before I knew it we’d taken the 10 across the Arizona border, past the green energy wind turbines and Morongo Casino that break the plane of the desert, visual oases that somehow feel like afterthoughts. A hop past Redlands and a skip off of Azusa (how’d the girl never been to the Filipino part of town?) and I was home. Mama’s greeting reminded me of how I treat recycler ads that come in the mail, the sentiment that goes, eh, this is okay I guess – at least it’s not a collections notice or jury summons. Played with Misty a little before rearranging my bedroom (oh you, xr). Afterwards I slept like I hadn’t for days.

FRIDAY was helping pops start to take apart the deck out back. Got a blister on my hand from using the demolition saw and stepped on my first rusted nail ever – keep a lid on your excitement, Raymond. After getting that cleaned up it was a bullet train to Em/Am pentatonic station, via the guest house at Atok’s. Left my gear there in the hopes that we put the stuff to good use these next couple weeks. Did some songs on the photobooth thing, God save him if those end up on the internet – there will be uppercuts and leglocks. Met the other boys at Nicklas’ after, his family was out and we partied like we were 18 all over again – Aron’s contraption, pingpongs, snowboard helmets for pushcart rides down the hill, and heavy conversation until sunrise.

SATURDAY, more smash detail. Buddies got back in from Asia, I talked with Fung on Watercress about hanging out with LGBTs this past semester. Wait. A practical application of the classroom topics? Something must be the matter with me, students aren’t supposed to do the knowledge retention thing anymore. Dished with Atok about Kollaboration ’09 and how it was a terrible platform for talent; Jane Lui put on an amazing and soulful jazz piano and vocal performance but only took home second place. Why is it that talented yellow(-ish) folk don’t get any mainstream recognition? It seems off that oriental acts are seen as novelties - secondhanded - all while the world knows the names Bieber and Gaga. Does that Owl City cat vocode his entire “singing” act? Kina Grannis put him to shame, easily. K-Town LA's own Jonathan Park (rap alias Dumbfoundead) makes great, thoughful music that probably won’t be heard outside the Asian community. Admittedly, Park got some local attention and even landed a spot on CNN’s weekly “Best of Web” segment, but at the end of the day the world is still going to blow Weezy, happily eating up his syncopatic whines as cognizant lyricism. For shame, sirs.

We are saints made of plaster, our laughter is canned
We are demons that hide in the mirror
But the blood on our hands
Paints a picture exceedingly clear…

We can’t medicate man to perfection again
We can’t legislate peace in our hearts
We can’t educate sin from our souls
It’s been there from the start
But the blind lead the blind into bottomless pits
Still we smile and deny that we’re cursed
But of all our iniquities
Ignorance may be the worst…

Oh what little light we have...
Something’s gone terribly wrong
With everyone
All the world is mad
Darkness brings terrible things
The sun is gone
What vanity! Our sad wretched fires.

- Dustin Kensrue (Thrice) – All the World is Mad