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Drunken Rambling

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Jammin' [Feb. 5th, 2005|02:18 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
In my profile, I wrote about how I tend to get moved to tears by music.  I never meant to imply that music can make me “weep”, because it never has, but every so often I hear something so moving that tears really do come out of my eyes.  Tonight was one of those nights.

The odd thing is, I don’t recall ever hearing something live that was so amazing that it actually made me tear up.  But tonight broke the mold.  Root City’s rendition of this one song just did it for me.

I don’t know if I’m capable of giving them the amount of praise they deserve.  The only time I’ve every been disappointed seeing one of their shows was when they were having technical difficulties (think untraceable feedback combined with a weak voice from being ill).  And I’ve seen them play live enough times now that one would expect me to get bored.

It simply hasn’t happened.  Root City is the absolute shit.

Keep in mind that I’m saying this as a person who never appreciated blues or soul before I heard them (a hybrid blues/soul/rock group), and now I do.  They’re just incredible.  40% of the songs they play have the ability to invoke some unnatural emotion in me.

And I have to tell you, Alex Rossi is my inspiration.  He’s one of the primary reasons I wanted to learn how to play guitar (and still do).  It’s not that I want to learn to play the way he does either, because I know that won’t ever happen.  I simply want to be able to stand up with a drummer and a bass-guitarist, and play my heart out.

Who knows if that’s ever going to happen though?  I certainly don’t.  I just know that when I get behind a guitar, there’s so much I want to make it “sing” that I just can’t.  I’m getting better every month, but there’s a long way to go.

Given what happened in Germany, I have to admit that I want to get up on stage.  I got drunk there and saw a guitar, and all I wanted to do was go play it.  I didn’t care how many people were watching, or how many mistakes I made.  I just wanted to play.  And it was great.  I’m pretty sure I wasn’t great, but the experience was.  I want to do it again, but I want to do it well.

I want to get up in front of 100 people, and just play whatever makes me feel good, all night long.  I wish there was a magic pill I could take, that would just make it so I could play.  I really wish.  There’s so much I inside I want to get out, but it just won’t come.
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Life Lessons reemphasized. [Nov. 21st, 2004|01:20 am]
Drunken Rambling

chuckwow
[mood |pensivepensive]

Third wheel: No.
PDA: No.
Clubbers Creed (Thou will not request to depart earlier than friends’ desires): Upheld.
Music too fucking loud: I hate.
Smoking: I hate. Chain smoking other people cigs, even worse
Horrible drinks: Disrespect for the bartender.
If your short shirt is going to expose your abdominals, you should have a six-pack.

Tonight I felt like I was being tortured for something that I had done in the past. I sat and did nothing at a table for three hours, I didn't even talk. At one point I looked at my watch twice in nine-minutes, I thought that it was going to be around one and in reality it was five after twelve. I spent the duration of the night wishing that I would have stayed home and did homework while watching muted MTV Rap Hits and thinking about how nine-minutes truly felt like sixty. While I was at the pub, I had a list of about a dozen "Nos" that I had planned to post, however, now I cannot remember them all.
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Random Rambling [Oct. 17th, 2004|03:00 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
So I was rambling to my friend on the ride home tonight, recounting my trip to Florida with Mark.  No surprisingly, my most vivid memory was the accident we saw.

We were driving home, me slightly below the limit behind the wheel, and just as we drove through the somewhat slow intersection, we saw two mangled cars with no police.  I asked Mark if it looked like they needed help, as I was trying to pay attention to traffic, and he said yes.  So I pulled off the road right next to them, which ended up being right on a gas station grounds.

It really was one of those times in my life where I had no idea what to do.  If Mark hadn’t said to pull over, I probably wouldn’t have.  If he hadn’t walked up to the car, I probably wouldn’t have.  Which isn’t to say I didn’t care, or anything like that, just that I didn’t know what I should do, and didn’t want to be in the way.

It’s one of those moments in your life when you realize who you really are as a man, and I found myself lacking.  I didn’t know what to do in the slightest.  I saw two people in a small car, lying there limp.  There was a man driving, and a woman in the passenger seat, both slouched over their seat belts, absolutely motionless.  Not that it matters, but they were both Black.

I really didn’t have any idea what to do.  I honestly think I just followed my friend Mark up to the car, and though I looked for a pool of gasoline, I didn’t look for anything else.  He took the pulse of one of them – I believe the female passenger – to see if she was alive, and shortly after that, the police showed up.

I was somewhat surprised at the lack of “hurry” they showed, though I believe they were doing their jobs well.  It seemed like forever before the two people had been taken out of their car into the ambulance, when a man walked up and asked if either of us were willing to given an interview.

Mark agreed, and I watched as he gave a professional account of what we’d seen.

I don’t know what to say today about that event, except that I was disappointed with how I’d handled it.  I wish I’d looked for danger, walked up, and taken a pulse.  I wish I’d called the police and relayed the details.  I wish I’d watched as I drove by so I could recount some details of the accident.  I wish I’d been able to do .something.  In the end though, the only thing I didn’t do was drive by.

I don’t even know if the woman, who I’d been told was pregnant, had survived.  The most vivid memory I have was how still the two people had been when I walked up to the wreck.  They were both motionless, both hung over their seatbelts like marionettes.  The amazing thing was that besides for a major dent and a strange position on the sidewalk, their car (I think it might have been a Honda) didn’t look like it had really suffered that much damage.

They were just there, on the sidewalk, motionless, and the driver of the truck who had hit them was clearly distraught, though not in the way one might expect.  I can’t begin to blame her for the way she reacted though – who would react “correctly” if they thought they might have just been involved in the deaths of two young people?

I really don’t know what to say.  It’s one of those days that runs through your head for no apparent reason, over and over.  You wonder what you could have done differently, even though you have no idea how it turned out.  It’s one of those events that you realize you simply weren’t prepared for.  To this day, I’m glad that Mark was.  He’s a better man than I.
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drunken time is now, fool mortals [Jul. 13th, 2004|04:06 am]
Drunken Rambling

stabmasterarson
[mood |drunkdrunk]

I don't know how i found this community, but i saw it and how the rules work, i won't apologize for anything i say here, i'll just say i'm really drunk now, and the time to post drunken rambling time is now and not past, there fore it is time to post!


THERE! If you don't like it, well, i thought it was gonna be okay, for real though. I hope people can understand, that i've had enough to drink to get me drunk. If you think i'm a lightweight, well, i'll just have to disagree. Be Excellent to eachother.


We smoke as we shoot the bird.
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Drunk Talk - Points of Order [May. 2nd, 2004|01:44 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
1) Brad is Home:

Well, sort of. He was home, but now he’s on a vacation. He’ll be back soon. We went to Mankato for a bender last weekend, and it was a pretty fun time. It really wasn’t much of a bender given that neither he nor I woke up hung-over once, but we did get semi-plastered. For the record, we’re bringing two cars the next time we do that.

See, he lives at the bottom of this huge fucking hill, relative to the bars. So we drive up there, get drunk, and stumble down to crash at his apartment. And then when we wake up, we have this dreadful fucking hike to get the car. Anyway, it was a fun time.

2) Mark is Coming Home:

Well, sort of. He’ll be home for a little more than a week, and then he’s shipping back off to some god-forsaken foreign country (Italy). But we should have a good time while he’s here.

3) Kalgren Rocks:

I went to see their CD release party with Jeff, and it was awesome, at least the part we saw. The band immediately after them was pretty highly over-rated, and given that Jeff had to work early, we left after Kalgren played. But I bought their CD and it’s pretty sweet. I can’t wait to listen to the whole thing. I’m hoping we can get them to play at Decoy’s (our local bar where everyone knows your name) soon.

4) I’m a Fledgling Rock Star:

Okay, well that might be overstating it a bit. I’ve been playing an acoustic guitar since Christmas, and making pretty decent progress if I must say so myself, but I finally bought an electric guitar. I also bought some sheet music from a few bands I’d like to try to learn to play (3 Doors Down, Staind, and Dave Mathew’s Band (the closest thing to Root City that I could think of).

I really feel like there’s a lot of great music inside me waiting to get out, but I have to learn how to express it first. That’s where the guitar comes in. I wish there was something I could just hook up to my brain that would respond to the music I hear in my head, but I guess that might be a while coming. Until then I’ll just have to make due by continuing to learn guitar.

5) A Great Toast:

The band at Decoy’s proposed a great toast tonight. I don’t remember it word for word, but the gist of it was a thank-you to our troops in Iraq and elsewhere. They closed by saying America is the greatest country on earth, at which point I cheered at the top of my lungs (as did a lot of other patriots). It was nice, given all the idiotic anti-American liberal defeatist propaganda that I have to listen to on a daily basis.

Speaking of which, did you hear they read the names of all the American military personnel that have been killed in Iraq? You know, I have no problem with that as a sign of respect, but I can guarantee you that that was not what it was. It was a blatantly obvious partisan political statement saying “Look how many of our troops have died because of President Bu$h!!!”. Anyone who thinks otherwise should ask themselves why they aren’t reading the names of everyone who died in WWII along side them to put it in perspective. “But Eric, that would probably preempt an entire year of programming!” That’s exactly the point. It would, wouldn’t it? It would be so unbelievably long that no one who watched it could possibly believe that we’ve paid a high cost to liberate the 25 million people in Iraq in comparison.

Anyway, that’s a tangent I don’t really feel like following right now. Instead I’m going to end this with a motivational saying.

Understand and correct your failures, but do not regret them. You are as much the product of those things you’ve done wrong as anything else, and without them, you would not be nearly the person you are. When you look back on your life, see individual events as pieces of the puzzle that is you. Without any one of them, the tapestry that is your life will fall apart. Live your life by these words: “I will not forget, but I will not regret.”
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drunken introduction [May. 1st, 2004|07:00 pm]
Drunken Rambling

sparrowrose
[music |Buffy the Vampire Slayer - suite from 'hush']

I joined this community a while back but couldn't introduce myself at the time because I was sober. But today is Derby Day and Saturday and almost the end of the semester which, combined, make for a good day to drink. (I grew up in Kentucky but now live many, many, many miles away so I get kind of nostalgic at Derby time.)

There's one more week left until finals and I've been trying to figure out if I'm disgusted with my school, with my classmates, with myself, or with some combination of the above.

Classes are too easy. I feel like I'm in high school. I marvel that my degree will be taken with any degree of seriousness whatsoever. I wonder why I'm at such a cake school. I wonder why my classmates are so stupid.

In my economics class, we have such intellectually stimulating assignments as going to the treasury's web site and writing down "ten interesting facts about money." This weekend I am supposed to look at the clothes in my closet and note where they came from, then write a little bit about how clothes are made and how they end up in my store.

This is college level work?

Last semester, my American Government professor never even *mentioned* the Constitution until the last few weeks of the semester and then taught us that the Constitution was written with "intentionally vague" language. She can try to excuse revisionistic interpretation all she wants, but the language in the Constitution is anything but vague! It's specific lawyer-language established through English common law. The words in the Constitution have very specific and intentional meanings! That class was mostly feel-good wanking political theories with no substance.

So I'm coasting through a bunny slope of a school while 2/3 to 3/4 of my classmates are flunking around me. And wondering if I'm not the most pathetic piece of this picture - 37 years old and still working on my bachelor's degree. A semester here, ten years off, a year there, seven years off ....

And on the one hand are people telling me I'm too old to even be bothering with this anymore. And on the other hand is the example of my mother who was older than I am now when she first decided to go to college and now has a Psy.D degree and a thriving practice. And on the third hand (Shiva much?) is the realization that my university may be accredited but it's hardly what I'd call an institute of higher learning. And the fourth hand? Inertia. I really don't feel like going to some nasty city far away to go to a real university. I've moved way too much already over the course of my life and just don't feel like moving anymore, especially all the way across country.

But the Spring air smells pert, the whiskey feels good, the patterns of light and shadow through the blinds is mesmerizing, my life is good. My life is good, but what am I trying to do with it? Do I want to spend my life coasting and enjoying shadow patterns on the wall?

Right now, that doesn't entirely sound like a bad plan.

Pathetic, maybe, but pleasant.
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Broken Dreams [Mar. 6th, 2004|03:22 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
Tears of sorrow lead the way
And we can’t fix this broken day

Friends remain with hearts that bleed
And here we see these broken dreams

Time that ticks away our plans
And here we hold this broken man

Eyes that see this tragic sight
And here we mourn his broken life

Love that doesn’t end at death
And we will pass this trying test

Days that will not fade with time
And a friend we will not leave behind
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Points of Order [Feb. 1st, 2004|04:19 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
1) They should have classes in school on how to tell your friends they’ve had enough. The night was fun, but I finished it by watching over my friend as he puked his guts out for more than an hour, until his brother got home. I would have stayed there all night if I had to, because he’s my friend, but I can’t tell you how glad I am to have passed the torch.

2) Three different girls hit on me tonight, and one of them was not only blatantly obvious (she held my hand as I walked up the stairs to the VIP room), but she was also semi-attractive. The other two were attractive as well (as far as I can remember now). It doesn’t really surprise me though since I decided to dress up tonight (I know how to turn on the charm when I want to).

Here’s the thing though. I knew they were all hitting on me, and I was intoxicated enough to dance with them if I’d so chosen, but I didn’t. My mind was otherwise occupied. And we were even at a place that’s known for the caliber of women it attracts. There were gorgeous women everywhere, but even from above (did I mention the VIP room?), not a single one held a candle to the girl I’m interested in.

I don’t know what it is about her that I like so much. If you asked me to name it, I couldn’t. I talked to her for twenty minutes or so tonight (drunk), and I was semi-satisfied with the results. I just wish she’d been able to be there, what with my wardrobe and all.

She also named some colognes she liked (I’ve yet to buy cologne once in my life). Just so I remember, I’ll name the ones I… remember.

  • Hugo Boss
  • Hugo
  • Calvin Klein Romance
  • Something-I-Couldn’t-Hear

But I digress. My friend drunkenly (and dishonestly) told her that I’d been talking about her all night. The truth is, I didn’t say a word about her; but I was thinking about her all night long. I actually found myself rating (unconsciously) the attractiveness of girls based on how closely their faces resembled hers. Seriously.

That’s pretty fucked up if I must say so myself. I’m not used to this shit. How do you look into a room filled with scantily clad gorgeous girls and not think a single one of them is attractive enough to warrant your attention (I know what you’re thinking, and no, guys don’t interest me in the slightest).

3) Okay, I’ve now run out of shit to talk about (for the second time tonight) so I’m going to end it at this. What’s the point you ask? The point is this. Take me, a room full of attractive girls, add in my nice new apparel, my desire for a girlfriend, and a bunch of free drinks (= willing to dance), and girls will hit on me. A fun time, yes. But factor in my “infatuation” (if that’s what you want to call it) for another girl who isn’t there, and drunk-Eric is elsewhere.

There’s a lot of stuff I’d like to add to this, but now is neither the time nor the place (neither is tomorrow, anywhere else on earth). Sorry, but even though my journal is honest, uncensored, and completely unabashed, that doesn’t mean it’s “complete”, and it never has been. Good Night.
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Happy New Year [Jan. 1st, 2004|02:30 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
Have you ever really wanted to bitch-slap a girl? I don’t mean this in a bad way (if that’s possible). What I mean is, have you ever watched a girl you like get roped into talking with some guy that you know is a total asshole?

Imagine this: A girl you like is “accosted” by some guy on New Year’s Eve who wants to kiss her. As a guy, you’re possessed with the innate knowledge that a relationship that starts on those terms will NEVER go any further. The guy wants to score, that’s it, but the girl is missing a Y-chromosome so she has no idea what’s going on. Have you ever wanted to just bitch-slap a girl in that position so hard that she falls on her ass, so you can walk up to her, point you finger at her, and say, “Listen woman! That guy you’re talking to right now is the DEFINITION of an asshole”?

I have. Not so much in the physical violence sense as the “I can’t believe you’re falling for this” sense. Sometimes I wonder what’s with women. How can they meet a guy like that and not instantaneously realize he’s a worthless piece of shit that needs to be put down for the good of the species?

Of course in the physical violence sense it’s not the girl that I wanted to slap, but the guy who I wanted to be asked to kick his ass. I had drunken fantasies of her yelling my name and me running over, jumping the guy, grabbing him by the throat, and choking him until someone pulled me off.

It’s kind of funny in a way. Here I am, on New Year’s Eve, thinking about how I can’t really imagine this year being much worse for me personally, and fantasizing about beating some guy senseless because he had the nerve to try and get in the pants of some girl I like who seemingly doesn’t share my feelings. Well... funny is really the right word. More like... curious. What do you say about that situation anyway, other than pointing out some guy who seems to be losing it?

Let’s not take this the wrong way though, because I had a damn good time tonight. I didn’t cheer with the countdown, but I did have a huge smile on my face for it. And I had a good dinner and shared some good company, so I don’t know what I can complain about besides the fact that my two best friends are out of the country (part of which will be rectified in a few days).

What’s the point you ask? Well here it is. ... That was it. Sorry to disappoint you, but the point is I’m just some drunk guy who likes some girl, who isn’t as happy with his life as he should be, who doesn’t have anything better to do with his time at 2:30am, so he’s writing a little pointless diatribe about the last several hours.

Happy F-ing New Year!
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Just Fucking Do It [Nov. 7th, 2003|02:37 am]
Drunken Rambling
belt0033
It’s that time again. That’s right; it’s time for me to tell you what I really think of you. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re a disappointment. I expected more from you, I really did. I don’t know why, but I always just thought you owed it to me. And it’s come to my attention recently that you’re really failing in your duty. You’re even failing in your duty to yourself.

I’m writing this because I want you to get your head back in the game. Life isn’t something to stumble through, only standing firmly on both feet when you must. It’s about climbing the hill when all you need to do is walk the path, swimming the river when there’s a bridge ahead, and if you’re not climbing up, you should be running down.

But here you are, complacent in your meritocracy. You’re floating down-river because it’s easier than struggling to hold your ground. And frankly, sometimes it makes me sick just to look at you. I see your face and have to fight the urge to turn my head and walk away.

So tell me please. What will it take to change the course you’re following? Do you need to see tragedy before you, or if I show you a better way, will you take it? Because you need to do something. You’re heading for the fucking edge, and once you take that last step, there won’t be anything holding you up.

Is that what you want? Do you want to look down and see nothing lower than your own feet? Do you want to look up and see nothing but where you were and should have been? Or do you want to look forward and see some beauty, some tranquility, and some excitement? It’s not a hard choice. All you have to do is choose, but here you are, disappointing me again. Stop pretending you’re something you’re not, step up, and be a fucking man.
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