a subdued gathering

fail quickly, and fail noisily

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 01:10:45 GMT

The wondrous valley of knowledge that is Wikipedia sucked me in again last night, bringing me to something called the Jargon File, an electronic tome that dates back to the days of MIT's Tech Model Train Club (a whole other article which I won't link to), and found an interesting article within called "The Story of Mel." This quote really caught my eye:

"I have often felt that programming is an art form,
whose real value can only be appreciated
by another versed in the same arcane art;
there are lovely gems and brilliant coups
hidden from human view and admiration, sometimes forever,
by the very nature of the process."

I found that really interesting...heartwarming almost. Back in high school, I was addicted to computer programming. I just wanted to learn all the unique, sometimes elegant ways I could make something work. It was very self-satisfying, and generally, nobody understood it. This little quote really brought me back to those days when I was unencumbered by all the theory and extraneous information that my stunted time in the MTU Computer Science department provided me.

I need to get back to that innocence. I was a pretty good programmer back then, as I recall. Heh.

Nerd, out.

This is only a test

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 20:58:17 GMT

I'm trying out this new IM program that allegedly will allow me to update my LiveJournal directly from it. I guess I'll find out if it actually works...

and your red sky at night won't follow me

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 03:13:06 GMT

I am an absolute piece of shit. Engage self-loathing spiral.

Someday things will be normal again. I just wish I knew when "someday" was, or how to get there faster. I used to just sleep the days away when they ended up being like this, but I don't have that convenience any more. I'll just keep myself busy until I finally break down again, and then I'll just mosey on over the hump and into another pit of despair with all its spooky noises and prickly things.

I can't wait for 2010. The odd numbered years always end up being just outright painful overall. There's been some beautiful times this year...some of the best times in fact...but the pain is just outweighing all the warm memories in my heart right now.

My God I'm sorry I've gone and ruined everything.

the underlying theme

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 05:25:28 GMT

Once again, it's been far too long since I've updated. Every time I get on here I want to write about so much but I just end up losing it right as I type...it's kind of frustrating. Years back, in the LJ heyday, I could type a full tome every evening. It seems these days my motivation for such endeavors is sorely lacking.

As always when I update LiveJournal, I'm feeling bad or on edge for some odd reason. I'll be honest, I've been an emotional train wreck for the past few weeks. Up and down, I've been like a hormonal tween with less angst and more absolute confusion. Last week I had a couple of those "rock bottom" days that mercifully only happen on rare occasions. I am such a mess lately.

Rocky Horror has thankfully kept my mind (and my physical being) occupied. It's always a lot of fun, and John is a refreshing character to work with. I'm generally there even when I don't have to be.

Inspired by wireless internet access that is not affected by inclement weather or the flatulence of a nearby pidgeon, I've decided to use my laptop for its namesake again, in my comfy new chair.

This room is a womb to me.

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 04:08:23 GMT

No matter what happens, please remember this...

...I will always love you.

Holy shit my car is clean.

Sat, 04 Jul 2009 03:40:15 GMT

Nicole and Max helped me clean my epically dirty car today. We got rid of the trash, Armor-Alled everything, and Nicole vaccuumed it all down. There were 7 pairs of shoes in my car. Seven. That is absoludicrous. I donated a giant box full of books and trinkets...and my Nintendo 64...to the Vista Thrift Shop. I have to find the controllers and more games to give to Al as well.

I'm using Safari right now because my Firefox has been acting funny the last few days and I felt as though I hadn't given this wonderfully Apple-y browser a fair shake. Despite the fact that it's making my computer's fan crank to 11, I'm not minding the ridiculous speed of it.

My atrociously sunburned head may explain the randomness of this post. Zoinks.

Huzzah Hulu Desktop

Sat, 30 May 2009 02:29:50 GMT

So I spent about 2 hours earlier this week trying to get Hulu to stay open on my new TV (which is connected to my laptop) while I did other stuff on the laptop. Unfortunately, the Flash player which Hulu is built around has a built-in "security feature" which doesn't allow stuff to stay full screen when you're giving input to another window. Bugger.

So today I hear there's this new program, called Hulu Desktop, which basically works like a Media Center type program to interface all the free awesomeness on Hulu. And it stays FULL SCREEN while I type stuff on the main screen...like I'm doing right now. So it's basically like I'm watching really high quality tv...but it's pretty much any tv show I want...AND IT'S FREE. It certainly looks better than Charter.

It is, however, turning my laptop into a space heater at the moment. Had to ratchet up the CPU to get it smooth. Eh well, I'm still probably using half the energy I would've been using with the old steel beast for ten times the fun.

I know this probably sounds like an advertisement, but it seems as much as I'm against the proliferation of corporate "content" on our great and free series of tubes, I just can't turn down some (good) free tv on demand.

my one act, mark II

Fri, 01 May 2009 18:17:08 GMT

I took b_vainamoinen's suggestion and added a little. Hopefully it fits in well. Take a read...

COVERED UP IN RUST

CHARACTERS
John - a young man
Berry - a polite, middle-aged man with an archaic way of speaking

SETTING
A lonely bridge late at night in a cold midwestern town

ACT I

John is standing, looking sickly, at the railing of the bridge. Sweat is dripping from his brow; he is clearly distraught and possibly a bit intoxicated.

Berry enters.

BERRY: Good evening, young man.

JOHN: (startled) Wh...what?

BERRY: I said, (loudly and slowly) good evening, young man.

JOHN: G-good evening. Wait, who says "good evening" anymore?

BERRY: Polite folk do, one might assume.

John contemplates this, then looks back down over the bridge.

JOHN: Well, then, uh...good evening.

Berry stands there for a moment, observing John, who is still staring down from the rail of the bridge. He then exits, seemingly unaffected by John's attitude. John pauses for a moment, then looks up.

JOHN: Oh what a terrible, terrible life. Terrible. I can't go on like this.

Berry enters again, hanging back and observing John in silence.

JOHN: Mary, why did you leave me? And mom, and dad, and...ah I hate you all!

John pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a quick drink; he proceeds to toss the flask over the edge of the bridge, sobbing quietly. Berry meanders up close to John, then begins speaking over his shoulder, startling John.

BERRY: What sort of way is that to treat such a lovely carafe?

JOHN: Jesus Christ!

BERRY: Now, now, young man. No need to bring martyrs into this. What's troubling you so that you would toss such a fine piece of pewter into such a cold old river?

John pauses.

JOHN: It wasn't pewter. It was cheap. I mean...leave me alone old man.

BERRY: (humorously acting insulted) My, my, my. No respect for your elders. Old man...pff! Old man.

JOHN: I just want to be alone, ok?

BERRY: (pauses, considering, then continues) Alright, young man. You're entitled to your privacy. Have a good evening.

Berry exits. John hesitates a moment, then begins climbing up on the railing. Berry hurriedly enters again.

BERRY: What the devil are you doing young man?!

JOHN: What does it look like I'm doing?

BERRY: Come down from there, you silly knave.

JOHN: Silly what? What in the hell are you-- Damn it, man, just go away.

BERRY: (pauses) Ah, suicide...how absolutely maudlin. And jumping off a bridge, that's a hoot. Well, before I try to talk you out of this, young man, I believe we should be properly introduced. The name is Berry. What's yours?

Berry extends his hand to John.

JOHN: J--John. My name's John. Now go away.

BERRY: Well, I can't just do that now, can I? You seem to have invariably involved this stalwart soul in your endeavor to end the life you call your own - so I would feel quite responsible if you actually mustered up the courage to go ahead with it.

JOHN: Shut up, just shut up and go away.

John begins to weep. After a beat, Berry begins patting him on the back.

BERRY: There, there, young man. No need for tears. Tell old Berry what's on your mind.

JOHN: It's none of your business, old man. Now go away.

BERRY: Girl troubles, son? Troubles at home? Not doing so well in school? What troubles a young man's conscience so that he would risk the icy waters that travel quietly beneath this road?

JOHN: (brutally) I said, it's none of your business.

BERRY: Alright, alright. You don't have to tell Berry twice. Or perhaps you do, I seem to have lost count. Well, goodnight, young man. Enjoy what little life you have left.

Berry begins to exit slowly, when John steps down from the railing.

BERRY: Now, that's what I thought.

JOHN: God, you're still here?!

BERRY: So are you, from the looks of it. Have a seat, young John, you look like you are going to faint.

John sits down on a park bench at the edge of the bridge, and folds his head into his hands.

JOHN: I just can't seem to do it. This is, like, the third night I've come down here and stared at that damn river.

BERRY: Ah, that damnable river. It's claimed a lot of young men like you.

JOHN: I just can't seem to do it. I can't do anything right. I can't even kill myself. Jesus, I can't even do that right.

BERRY: Come now, John. I'm sure you could do it quite well if you really tried. Not that I think...ah well, you know what I mean.

JOHN: Thanks.

BERRY: You're welcome. So - why would you choose to jump in the river? It seems like such a miserable way to go.

JOHN: I guess it just seemed...right.

BERRY: Right, you say? Having the local authorities dredge your swollen little carcass out of that murky bilge in the middle of winter? Sounds like outright cruelty to public service, if you ask me.

JOHN: Thanks. Any better ideas?

BERRY: Well, I don't know. There's always pills. Grab grandma's bottle of Valium and...shall we say...relax?

JOHN: I don't take pills. I never have.

BERRY: Well, I can't say that I could think of a better time to start.

John glares at Berry for a moment.

BERRY: Fair enough, no pills. Besides, they leave you rather unsightly and embarrassed when they don't happen to work. In any case, leave the mop and bucket handy. What else?

JOHN: I thought about, you know...cutting myself. Slitting my wrists.

BERRY: Ah yes. Little boy in the bathtub with the straight razor. That's absolutely droll, I tell you. Light up all the candles, turn the volume up on whatever device it is you use to play your favorite morose tune, and drain your blood for all to see. Now that, my boy, makes a statement.

JOHN: I just - I don't know.

BERRY: (Chuckling) Can't do it? I bet you're one of those folks who can barely take a needle. Did you cry as a child until the doctor gave you a Looney Tunes bandage to cover the evidence of your vaccinations?

JOHN: Old man, you are such a -

BERRY: Now, now, young John. Let's not be so hasty with our words - a young man like you should not hear example in the sarcasm of an old dog like myself. Have you tried, oh I don't know...hanging yourself?

JOHN: Actually, yes. I tried hanging myself from a pipe in my parents' basement last week. It didn't work. The pipe broke...

Berry begins laughing hysterically.

JOHN: Stop laughing! It's not funny.

BERRY: Oh, oh dear, my boy, you're correct. Nothing funny about that whatsoever. Imagine the mess. Hopefully it was a fresh water pipe...

JOHN: Yeah. I thought it was at the time...

Berry laughs heartily again.

BERRY: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, young man. That's just far too silly to not put some jollies into an old man's heart. In any case, it's best you didn't hang yourself anyway. Rather humiliating way to be found dead, what with the (makes a rising motion with his hand) and all.

JOHN: The what?

BERRY: Well...(clears his throat)...it's a commonly known fact that when a male of the species is killed by hanging from the neck that his...shall we say, protuberance, becomes...well...umm (clenches his fist and holds it up, pausing for a moment)...it's a byproduct of blood pressure and the like.

JOHN: Oh God.

BERRY: Yes...that's precisely the reaction your poor old mother probably would have had finding you in such a compromising position.

John puts his face into his hands and shakes his head.

BERRY: How about shooting yourself? It seems to be all the rage these days; people are doing it on national television, I hear. It can be quite inspired - the shocking violence of it all - the danse macabre with a loaded barrel.

JOHN: I don't even own a gun.

BERRY: You mean father doesn't have a case full of hunting rifles waiting ripely for his angst-ridden young progeny to pick up and play with in the most morbid of ways?

Berry mimes firing a rifle at his own head.

JOHN: I -- what? Man, you talk in circles.

BERRY: Fair enough. So, given the options, jumping off a bridge it is. I hope those friendly old policemen get overtime while they're digging around in that big cold stream for your carcass.

JOHN: Thanks.

Berry pauses for a moment, circling John and the park bench. Eventually, John looks up at Berry.

JOHN: What?!

BERRY: Oh, nothing, nothing. Just waiting for you.

JOHN: Waiting for me to do what?

BERRY: As they would colloquially say at the taverns down the road, "to shit or get off the pot."

JOHN: What in the hell are you talking about?

Berry sits down next to John.

BERRY: Well, are you going to do it? Or are you going to spill your proverbial guts to this wise old sage who has so reluctantly crossed your arrogant young path.

JOHN: Arrogant? What's that supposed to mean?

BERRY: Oh, come now, dear John. When I was your age, I was just as arrogant and cussed as you; Perhaps I drank a bit less, but we can't all be perfect, now can we?

The two pause a moment, looking out over the river.

JOHN: So I got a call from my girlfriend tonight. She is, as you might say, "colloquially" fucking my best friend.

BERRY: Lovely.

JOHN: Yeah, just lovely.

BERRY: Well, then. Matters of the heart it is. Hmm...what chapter is this?

Berry mimes flipping through a book.

BERRY: Ah yes, here it is. Chapter thirteen, how to stop a heartbroken young male from building himself a watery grave.

JOHN: Very funny.

BERRY: I thought so. So tell me about her, young man.

JOHN: She's all I really have, man. I'm a musician. I have a shitty day job, a failing band, and nothing much else to do but drink and throw bottles at things, you know?

BERRY: Heh, you might be surprised by this, but I know quite well.

JOHN: So we've been together for almost two years, me and Mary-

BERRY: Mary and I

John looks over at Berry with a hint of anger, then backs down.

JOHN: Mary and I. We were going to have a big wedding in June. Now she's fucking my best friend. Colloquially.

BERRY: Ah, so it's betrayal of the carnal variety that's driven you to this, no offense, rather pathetic position.

John returns the angry look to Berry.

JOHN: No, it's not just that. It's everything, man. My job, my life. Fuck my life.

BERRY: Fuck it, indeed. (giggles) Oh, excuse me for my bluntness. I tend to lose my tact at such a weary hour.

JOHN: Yeah, whatever. I just don't want to keep going, you know?

BERRY: Well, then don't.

JOHN: I'm working on it, alright?

BERRY: Working on it like you're working on your job and relationships?

JOHN: What in the hell is with you, old man?

BERRY: Berry.

John stands up, exasperated.

JOHN: Berry! Ok I get it alright!

BERRY: Just making sure.

JOHN: Just leave me alone, Berry.

John steps back to the railing. Berry sits and stares for a moment, then rises and exits.

JOHN: Alright, I'm going to do it. I'm finally going to do it. Enough of this bullshit.

John pulls a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and begins reading.

JOHN: "Dear Mary, this is the last thing you will ever hear from me. It's been a long and beautiful time being with you, even when you cheated on me with Mark. And Bill. And Jared. Anyways, I have loved you with all my heart and I don't think I can go on without you. My music means nothing anymore. Nothing means anything anymore. Goodbye, my darling, and goodnight."

Berry laughs offstage.

JOHN: What the hell?!

Berry enters, laughing heartily.

BERRY: That is the funniest thing I have ever heard.

Berry continues laughing for a inordinately long period of time. Eventually, John walks over to him, crumpling the suicide note back up into his palm.

JOHN: What's so damn funny about it? I'm trying to kill myself, here, for Christ's sake.

BERRY: Young man, young man. You silly, young man. If you're going to leave this world, you need to at least be a bit more eloquent with your goodbyes.

Berry continues chortling as John fumes more.

JOHN: Alright, old man. What would you say if it were you jumping off this bridge?

BERRY: Well, well. Now he wants my advice. Not when I'm trying to save his life will he take a single word of advice - but now that I offer my editorial services, the young lad is all ears.

JOHN: Seriously. Just tell me.

Berry considers this for a moment.

BERRY: I've always been a fan of "short and sweet." You know, something simple. Like "Rosebud." People remember you for things like that.

JOHN: Rosebud?! What the hell are you--

BERRY: Yes, yes, young musician. Under-cultured. You're probably a disingeuous vegetarian punk rocker or something of that sort. Typical.

JOHN: Thanks, Berry. Thanks a lot.

John sits down on the bench again, looking defeated. Berry sits down next to him, gingerly wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

BERRY: Aww, young man. Either I hit the nail on the head, or I touched a nerve, either way, there is some metaphor to deftly describe what has made you react as thus.

JOHN: Man, I'm so unoriginal. I'm a hack. I can't even write a good suicide note...let alone a good song. I'm worthless.

BERRY: Well, probably. I mean, to a point we're all worthless. Little husks of genetic material, marching around like ants on our pitiful little hills, making the best of everything just to please the queen. Sucking up the precious air for eighty-odd years, less in your case I suppose, then off to your friendly neighborhood dirt farm.

JOHN: Wow, great.

BERRY: See, eloquence?

JOHN: I see.

BERRY: Good, you're not totally blind. That's a plus.

JOHN: So...what would you say if you were about to kill yourself?

BERRY: What would I say? Well I guess I've never given it a whole lot of thought. It's trite to think of one's own last words, the way I see it. If it happens out of context, you go down in history as a buffoon. If it just wreaks of melodrama, then you go down in history as a pretty crying queen.

Berry begins to chuckle again.

JOHN: I'm serious. If you want to help, help me out.

BERRY: Oh, alright, alright. I am obliged to oblige. Let's see that.

Berry pulls out a pair of glasses from his pocket. John hands him the crumpled up paper. Berry re-reads the note, chuckling all the while.

BERRY: "Dear Mary, this is the last thing you will ever hear from me. It's been a long and beautiful time being with you, even when you cheated on me with Mark. And Bill. And Jared. Anyways, I have loved you with all my heart and I don't think I can go on without you. My music means nothing anymore. Nothing means anything anymore. Goodbye, my darling, and goodnight."

JOHN: Will you please stop laughing?

BERRY: Oh, John, please. This is horrible. You're a musician, correct? A songwriter? Where on earth is the poetry? Where's the passion? I see only silly little trinkets of a love-lorn fool here.

JOHN: Thanks, you're no help.

BERRY: Now, now, young man. Let me think a moment on this. Brilliance certainly doesn't happen with spontaneity. At least, not in my world.

Berry stifles a laugh as he silently re-reads the note.

BERRY: Ok, ok (wiping his face) I think I have a few ideas that might help you be more - shall we say - appropriate in this situation.

JOHN: Really? You're not just playing me are you?

BERRY: No, no, young John. Despite my rather comical demeanor on the subject, I certainly would not joke with the destiny of a young man wishing to end himself.

JOHN: (Pauses) Thank you.

BERRY: Don't thank me. Thank several years of debt to higher education. Now, let's start here.

Berry pulls out a pen and works at the note for quite some time, John curiously looking over his shoulder the entire time.

BERRY: There, now. Feast your eyes upon that glory.

John reads for a moment.

JOHN: "Into the sea, my love dies with me?" What?!

BERRY: Short, and quite to the point.

JOHN: What is this shit? This doesn't say anything I want to say.

BERRY: Now, now. No need to insult. Sometimes you can just say...more while saying less, no?

JOHN: I guess so. I'm still not sure. I mean, will she get it?

BERRY: Of course she will.

JOHN: Gah, it rhymes and everything! What the hell?

BERRY: Trust me.

Berry holds out his hand, motioning toward the railing at the edge of the bridge. John slowly stands up and walks over to the rail.

BERRY: (smiling) Goodbye, young man.

John stands by the edge for a moment, then steps up on the rail.

JOHN: Thanks, Berry.

John holds up the letter and reads it aloud again, boldly.

JOHN: "Into the sea, my love dies with me!"

John drops the letter to the ground, then throws his arms up around him. Berry begins to chuckle.

JOHN: Could you not do that?

BERRY: (feigning confusion) Do what?

JOHN: Just shut up, ok?

BERRY: Your last wish is my command.

John closes his eyes again, face to the sky, arms outstretched. He waits for a long time.

BERRY: Well?

JOHN: What?!

BERRY: Are you going to do it?

JOHN: I thought I told you to shut up.

BERRY: Young man, I have gone completely out of my way at such a cursed hour to try to help you either not kill yourself, or kill yourself, and I'm frankly growing a bit impatient.

JOHN: Shut up old man! Why couldn't you just mind your own business.

Berry's mood quickly changes from jovial to angry. He stands up and trounces over to the edge, grabbing John by the back of his coat.

BERRY: Just do it already, you foolish boy!

JOHN: H-hey! Hey, let go of me! You crazy son of a-

BERRY: You're just like all of the other children these days, you don't even have the damnable motivation to properly jump off of a bridge!

Berry and John struggle for a bit, then John breaks free of Berry's grip.

BERRY: Why won't you just do it?! Do it!

JOHN: Man, you're crazy! What the hell is wrong with you?!

John steps down from the ledge and runs offstage. Berry stands there for a moment, his anger turning back to the indifferent warmness he possessed previously. He circles around the letter on the ground, then slowly picks it up. He unfolds it again, and steps up onto the railing.

BERRY: Kids, these days.

Berry steps over to the river-side of the railing, balancing carefully.

BERRY: They don't have the first clue.

Berry unfolds the letter further, holds it up, and begins to read.

BERRY: "Into the sea, my love dies with me."

Berry gingerly steps off the railing into the river.

Copyright © 2009 Andy Kulie. All rights reserved.

a little scene i wrote

Fri, 01 May 2009 01:04:01 GMT

So I felt inspired tonight, mainly because I've been in the house all day with this stupid cold thing (no, not swine flu...I hope). So I went ahead and tried to write a one-act play. It turned out to be more of a one-scene play, but since I haven't tried writing something like this since high school (oh, so many years ago), I think I did pretty well for myself, at least for a couple hours of work.

I apologize if this is terribly derivative and not very good. I'm horribly self-critical when it comes to my writing, so I've preemptively flogged myself thoroughly for even writing it. :-P Click on the cut and read on...

COVERED UP IN RUST

CHARACTERS
John - a young man
Berry - a polite, middle-aged man with an archaic way of speaking

SETTING
A lonely bridge late at night in a cold midwestern town

ACT I

John is standing, looking sickly, at the railing of the bridge. Sweat is dripping from his brow; he is clearly distraught and possibly a bit intoxicated.

Berry enters.

BERRY: Good evening, young man.

JOHN: (startled) Wh...what?

BERRY: I said, (loudly and slowly) good evening, young man.

JOHN: G-good evening. Wait, who says "good evening" anymore?

BERRY: Polite folk do, one might assume.

John contemplates this, then looks back down over the bridge.

JOHN: Well, then, uh...good evening.

Berry stands there for a moment, observing John, who is still staring down from the rail of the bridge. He then exits, seemingly unaffected by John's attitude. John pauses for a moment, then looks up.

JOHN: Oh what a terrible, terrible life. Terrible. I can't go on like this.

Berry enters again, hanging back and observing John in silence.

JOHN: Mary, why did you leave me? And mom, and dad, and...ah I hate you all!

John pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a quick drink; he proceeds to toss the flask over the edge of the bridge, sobbing quietly. Berry meanders up close to John, then begins speaking over his shoulder, startling John.

BERRY: What sort of way is that to treat such a lovely carafe?

JOHN: Jesus Christ!

BERRY: Now, now, young man. No need to bring martyrs into this. What's troubling you so that you would toss such a fine piece of pewter into such a cold old river?

John pauses.

JOHN: It wasn't pewter. It was cheap. I mean...leave me alone old man.

BERRY: (humorously acting insulted) My, my, my. No respect for your elders. Old man...pff! Old man.

JOHN: I just want to be alone, ok?

BERRY: (pauses, considering, then continues) Alright, young man. You're entitled to your privacy. Have a good evening.

Berry exits. John hesitates a moment, then begins climbing up on the railing. Berry hurriedly enters again.

BERRY: What the devil are you doing young man?!

JOHN: What does it look like I'm doing?

BERRY: Come down from there, you silly knave.

JOHN: Silly what? What in the hell are you-- Damn it, man, just go away.

BERRY: (pauses) Ah, suicide...how absolutely maudlin. And jumping off a bridge, that's a hoot. Well, before I try to talk you out of this, young man, I believe we should be properly introduced. The name is Berry. What's yours?

Berry extends his hand to John.

JOHN: J--John. My name's John. Now go away.

BERRY: Well, I can't just do that now, can I? You seem to have invariably involved this stalwart soul in your endeavor to end the life you call your own - so I would feel quite responsible if you actually mustered up the courage to go ahead with it.

JOHN: Shut up, just shut up and go away.

John begins to weep. After a beat, Berry begins patting him on the back.

BERRY: There, there, young man. No need for tears. Tell old Berry what's on your mind.

JOHN: It's none of your business, old man. Now go away.

BERRY: Girl troubles, son? Troubles at home? Not doing so well in school? What troubles a young man's conscience so that he would risk the icy waters that travel quietly beneath this road?

JOHN: (brutally) I said, it's none of your business.

BERRY: Alright, alright. You don't have to tell Berry twice. Or perhaps you do, I seem to have lost count. Well, goodnight, young man. Enjoy what little life you have left.

Berry begins to exit slowly, when John steps down from the railing.

BERRY: Now, that's what I thought.

JOHN: God, you're still here?!

BERRY: So are you, from the looks of it. Have a seat, young John, you look like you are going to faint.

John sits down on a park bench at the edge of the bridge, and folds his head into his hands.

JOHN: I just can't seem to do it. This is, like, the third night I've come down here and stared at that damn river.

BERRY: Ah, that damnable river. It's claimed a lot of young men like you.

JOHN: I just can't seem to do it. I can't do anything right. I can't even kill myself. Jesus, I can't even do that right.

BERRY: Come now, John. I'm sure you could do it quite well if you really tried. Not that I think...ah well, you know what I mean.

JOHN: Thanks.

BERRY: You're welcome.

Berry pauses for a moment, circling John and the park bench. Eventually, John looks up at Berry.

JOHN: What?!

BERRY: Oh, nothing, nothing. Just waiting for you.

JOHN: Waiting for me to do what?

BERRY: As they would colloquially say at the taverns down the road, "shit or get off the pot."

JOHN: What in the hell are you talking about?

Berry sits down next to John.

BERRY: Well, are you going to do it? Or are you going to spill your proverbial guts to this wise old sage who has so reluctantly crossed your arrogant young path.

JOHN: Arrogant? What's that supposed to mean?

BERRY: Oh, come now, dear John. When I was your age, I was just as arrogant and cussed as you; Perhaps I drank a bit less, but we can't all be perfect, now can we?

The two pause a moment, looking out over the river.

JOHN: So I got a call from my girlfriend tonight. She is, as you might say, "colloquially" fucking my best friend.

BERRY: Lovely.

JOHN: Yeah, just lovely.

BERRY: Well, then. Matters of the heart it is. Hmm...what chapter is this?

Berry mimes flipping through a book.

BERRY: Ah yes, here it is. Chapter thirteen, how to stop a heartbroken young male from building himself a watery grave.

JOHN: Very funny.

BERRY: I thought so. So tell me about her, young man.

JOHN: She's all I really have, man. I'm a musician. I have a shitty day job, a failing band, and nothing much else to do but drink and throw bottles at things, you know?

BERRY: Heh, you might be surprised by this, but I know quite well.

JOHN: So we've been together for almost two years, me and Mary-

BERRY: Mary and I

John looks over at Berry with a hint of anger, then backs down.

JOHN: Mary and I. We were going to have a big wedding in June. Now she's fucking my best friend. Colloquially.

BERRY: Ah, so it's betrayal of the carnal variety that's driven you to this, no offense, rather pathetic position.

John returns the angry look to Berry.

JOHN: No, it's not just that. It's everything, man. My job, my life. Fuck my life.

BERRY: Fuck it, indeed. (giggles) Oh, excuse me for my bluntness. I tend to lose my tact at such a weary hour.

JOHN: Yeah, whatever. I just don't want to keep going, you know?

BERRY: Well, then don't.

JOHN: I'm working on it, alright?

BERRY: Working on it like you're working on your job and relationships?

JOHN: What in the hell is with you, old man?

BERRY: Berry.

John stands up, exasperated.

JOHN: Berry! Ok I get it alright!

BERRY: Just making sure.

JOHN: Just leave me alone, Berry.

John steps back to the railing. Berry sits and stares for a moment, then rises and exits.

JOHN: Alright, I'm going to do it. I'm finally going to do it. Enough of this bullshit.

John pulls a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and begins reading.

JOHN: "Dear Mary, this is the last thing you will ever hear from me. It's been a long and beautiful time being with you, even when you cheated on me with Mark. And Bill. And Jared. Anyways, I have loved you with all my heart and I don't think I can go on without you. My music means nothing anymore. Nothing means anything anymore. Goodbye, my darling, and goodnight."

Berry laughs offstage.

JOHN: What the hell?!

Berry enters, laughing heartily.

BERRY: That is the funniest thing I have ever heard.

Berry continues laughing for a inordinately long period of time. Eventually, John walks over to him, crumpling the suicide note back up into his palm.

JOHN: What's so damn funny about it? I'm trying to kill myself, here, for Christ's sake.

BERRY: Young man, young man. You silly, young man. If you're going to leave this world, you need to at least be a bit more eloquent with your goodbyes.

Berry continues chortling as John fumes more.

JOHN: Alright, old man. What would you say if it were you jumping off this bridge?

BERRY: Well, well. Now he wants my advice. Not when I'm trying to save his life will he take a single word of advice - but now that I offer my editorial services, the young lad is all ears.

JOHN: Seriously. Just tell me.

Berry considers this for a moment.

BERRY: I've always been a fan of "short and sweet." You know, something simple. Like "Rosebud." People remember you for things like that.

JOHN: Rosebud?! What the hell are you--

BERRY: Yes, yes, young musician. Under-cultured. You're probably a disingeuous vegetarian punk rocker or something of that sort. Typical.

JOHN: Thanks, Berry. Thanks a lot.

John sits down on the bench again, looking defeated. Berry sits down next to him, gingerly wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

BERRY: Aww, young man. Either I hit the nail on the head, or I touched a nerve, either way, there is some metaphor to deftly describe what has made you react as thus.

JOHN: Man, I'm so unoriginal. I'm a hack. I can't even write a good suicide note...let alone a good song. I'm worthless.

BERRY: Well, probably. I mean, to a point we're all worthless. Little husks of genetic material, marching around like ants on our pitiful little hills, making the best of everything just to please the queen. Sucking up the precious air for eighty-odd years, less in your case I suppose, then off to your friendly neighborhood dirt farm.

JOHN: Wow, great.

BERRY: See, eloquence?

JOHN: I see.

BERRY: Good, you're not totally blind. That's a plus.

JOHN: So...what would you say if you were about to kill yourself?

BERRY: What would I say? Well I guess I've never given it a whole lot of thought. It's trite to think of one's own last words, the way I see it. If it happens out of context, you go down in history as a buffoon. If it just wreaks of melodrama, then you go down in history as a pretty crying queen.

Berry begins to chuckle again.

JOHN: I'm serious. If you want to help, help me out.

BERRY: Oh, alright, alright. I am obliged to oblige. Let's see that.

Berry pulls out a pair of glasses from his pocket. John hands him the crumpled up paper. Berry re-reads the note, chuckling all the while.

BERRY: "Dear Mary, this is the last thing you will ever hear from me. It's been a long and beautiful time being with you, even when you cheated on me with Mark. And Bill. And Jared. Anyways, I have loved you with all my heart and I don't think I can go on without you. My music means nothing anymore. Nothing means anything anymore. Goodbye, my darling, and goodnight."

JOHN: Will you please stop laughing?

BERRY: Oh, John, please. This is horrible. You're a musician, correct? A songwriter? Where on earth is the poetry? Where's the passion? I see only silly little trinkets of a love-lorn fool here.

JOHN: Thanks, you're no help.

BERRY: Now, now, young man. Let me think a moment on this. Brilliance certainly doesn't happen with spontaneity. At least, not in my world.

Berry stifles a laugh as he silently re-reads the note.

BERRY: Ok, ok (wiping his face) I think I have a few ideas that might help you be more - shall we say - appropriate in this situation.

JOHN: Really? You're not just playing me are you?

BERRY: No, no, young John. Despite my rather comical demeanor on the subject, I certainly would not joke with the destiny of a young man wishing to end himself.

JOHN: (Pauses) Thank you.

BERRY: Don't thank me. Thank several years of debt to higher education. Now, let's start here.

Berry pulls out a pen and works at the note for quite some time, John curiously looking over his shoulder the entire time.

BERRY: There, now. Feast your eyes upon that glory.

John reads for a moment.

JOHN: "Into the sea, my love dies with me?" What?!

BERRY: Short, and quite to the point.

JOHN: What is this shit? This doesn't say anything I want to say.

BERRY: Now, now. No need to insult. Sometimes you can just say...more while saying less, no?

JOHN: I guess so. I'm still not sure. I mean, will she get it?

BERRY: Of course she will.

JOHN: Gah, it rhymes and everything! What the hell?

BERRY: Trust me.

Berry holds out his hand, motioning toward the railing at the edge of the bridge. John slowly stands up and walks over to the rail.

BERRY: (smiling) Goodbye, young man.

John stands by the edge for a moment, then steps up on the rail.

JOHN: Thanks, Berry.

John holds up the letter and reads it aloud again, boldly.

JOHN: "Into the sea, my love dies with me!"

John drops the letter to the ground, then throws his arms up around him. Berry begins to chuckle.

JOHN: Could you not do that?

BERRY: (feigning confusion) Do what?

JOHN: Just shut up, ok?

BERRY: Your last wish is my command.

John closes his eyes again, face to the sky, arms outstretched. He waits for a long time.

BERRY: Well?

JOHN: What?!

BERRY: Are you going to do it?

JOHN: I thought I told you to shut up.

BERRY: Young man, I have gone completely out of my way at such a cursed hour to try to help you either not kill yourself, or kill yourself, and I'm frankly growing a bit impatient.

JOHN: Shut up old man! Why couldn't you just mind your own business.

Berry's mood quickly changes from jovial to angry. He stands up and trounces over to the edge, grabbing John by the back of his coat.

BERRY: Just do it already, you foolish boy!

JOHN: H-hey! Hey, let go of me! You crazy son of a-

BERRY: You're just like all of the other children these days, you don't even have the damnable motivation to properly jump off of a bridge!

Berry and John struggle for a bit, then John breaks free of Berry's grip.

BERRY: Why won't you just do it?! Do it!

JOHN: Man, you're crazy! What the hell is wrong with you?!

John steps down from the ledge and runs offstage. Berry stands there for a moment, his anger turning back to the indifferent warmness he possessed previously. He circles around the letter on the ground, then slowly picks it up. He unfolds it again, and steps up onto the railing.

BERRY: Kids, these days.

Berry steps over to the river-side of the railing, balancing carefully.

BERRY: They don't have the first clue.

Berry unfolds the letter further, holds it up, and begins to read.

BERRY: "Into the sea, my love dies with me."

Berry gingerly steps off the railing into the river.

Copyright © 2009 Andy Kulie. All rights reserved.

Quickie

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:38:42 GMT

I just undid my note importing to Facebook from this journal. I figured I had enough Web 2.0 loops flying around...didn't need another, really.

This last week has been excellent. Things are going great, other than a few speedbumps (ie, my ankle hurts like a motha-shutyomouth). In any case, good things have been happening all around.

Ok, I grow bored with this journal entry. Adeu!

A quarterly update

Mon, 13 Apr 2009 05:12:38 GMT

Well, it's been a while again. I'm obviously very adept at not updating my LiveJournal these days. Life right now is busy...I'm doing Kalevala: Land of Heroes at the Vista Theater, which has turned out to be tons of fun. Al convinced me to do it through his incredible powers of coercion, and as usual, I'm glad he did. I've been in a very dark funk, if you could even call it that, for the past few months, but once again Al and the Vista have come to help me get out of the dark.

It was a little under two years ago when I started participating in the whole theater scene, somewhat by accident. It was one of those absolute lows in my life; I was just out of college, alone, heartbroken, and confused as to what to do with my life, and I ended up falling into place in the orchestra for The Full Monty, which honestly helped to turn my life completely around. Where before I had no motivation, I found something I really wanted to work for...something that kept my attention and made me truly happy.

So here I was in 2009, sliding down that slippery slope of depression, when the folks at the Vista swooped in again to put a smile on my face. Ah, how some things move in circles.

So with renewed energy, I need to regroup and fix the things I broke during that little childish period I was experiencing over the last few months.

Cast in this unlikely role, ill-equipped to act, with insufficient tact, one must put up barriers to keep oneself intact

a lovely night

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 04:49:19 GMT

I feel sort of guilty that I only update my LiveJournal when I'm being sort of emo. But that seems to be the only time I'm inspired to write anything.

I just had the edge of a panic attack. It happens when I think about things too much, and then again, it happens for no reason at all sometimes. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Christmas break was not good/ok/excellent/good. That's quite the compound adjective, but that's how it was. Grandma broke her ribs so I've been alone here while she gets better in the nursing home. It's not bad being here by myself - certainly less stressful - but there's a lot of strange depressing attachments to this house that keep popping up and bothering me. And visiting the nursing home is, honestly, something I never ever wanted to do. I had a panic attack so bad the first time I visited that I almost threw up twice in the parking lot. I haven't let things bother me like that in a long time.

The rest of break was good. We had our third Dead Cities show at Rookie's with an excellent turnout (minus some very important missing persons), after which I got mindlessly drunk and the week-or-so hippie commune era at my house began. After that, it was a lot of hanging out with Erika, Ian, Brittany, Josh, Tim, Brad, etc. Which was really nice. I spent a lot of time on the phone too, which was also nice.

I finally got closure to some issues over break, too, which was good. It needed to happen.

2008 was easily the greatest year of my entire life, hands down. There was laughter and tears, hope and peril, but it was better than anything I've ever experienced overall. I'm glad I did some theater, I'm glad Tim got me off my ass to play some music, I'm glad I met some of the most interesting and now integral people in my life. I'm glad I'm making people happy with what I do these days - that's more than I could have ever asked for.

I have four very specific goals for 2009 - and a few auxiliary goals in there as well. Not resolutions, mind you, as resolutions are, for all intents and purposes, bullshit. Goal #1: get out of my job, for real. Find out what I really want to do and just do it. It worked in 2008 for other parts of my life, there's no reason it shouldn't work here. Goal #2: get an apartment or some sort of dwelling with my good friends and not tank myself financially this time. That shouldn't be a difficult goal to accomplish. Goal #3: cut a record and get some good gigs. Play music, that is what I'm all about these days, and playing it with four of my best friends ever has easily been the greatest experience of my entire life. Goal #4: well, goal #4 is a secret, but it's one of my biggest goals, so you'll all probably know what it was when I finally accomplish it. And I will accomplish it. Oh yes.

I have a few things eating away at me that need to be reconciled. I'm working on those as best I can.

I love playing music. I think I'll reiterate that again. Yesterday, one of my coworkers who I've never really talked to who happened to come see our show told me she was inspired by us. She said something along the lines of "it's good to see someone so passionate about something. I see you every day at work just slouched in your chair, but when you're on stage, you're really loving life." It was a good feeling. Chris's dad, a person whom I've always respected very much, showered me with compliments on my songs. Bree and Alaina know all the words by heart. The folks who know what the songs are about are happy with where they've gone. People are enjoying this...and that, beyond the feeling of writing a kickass guitar part or a smarmy lyric, is more satisfying than I could have ever imagined.

Cinderella starts soon. I'm going to be in the chorus on the main stage at Forest Roberts Theater, which is kind of blowing my mind. Less than a year ago I was marveling at the folks onstage giving it their all, even in the worst of plays...and here I get to be under the lights again, this time with a budget. Even with a tiny role, it's amazing to think how far I've come from being the most socially awkward, scared shitless, angsty little man to someone who goes out and pursues what he wants - and often gets it, or at least some fulfilling permutation thereof.

Well, I'm glad LiveJournal is such a good listener. It calmed me down pretty significantly. I'm going back now - back to living every day like it was my last day on earth. Because that's how you get shit done.

Tomorrow...tomorrow.

heaven must be just like this

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 05:43:32 GMT

Sometimes I just don't know what to do with myself. I've been a rollercoaster of various emotion as of late, and I just really have no idea how to control it anymore. It's a strange feeling that I haven't had in quite some time.

I'm leaving my apartment soon. The uncalled for tension between my landlord and I has reached it's peak, so I'm cutting my losses and leaving. It's a sad feeling, actually. As much as I hated certain things here, these few walls have housed a whole lot of memories. I can still hear the voices of all the good times and bad echo through each room...and it's only been a year. What an eventful one, though.

And then I'm out...moving on to something else, as always. I think I may actually be heartbroken.

I'm trying to quit smoking. I've cut down significantly, but I'm angry at myself for not being able to just stop. I knew this would happen, I knew I should probably fix the underlying problems rather than masking them with calming substances, but I wanted a quick fix to the panic I felt last spring. Now I want a quick fix to the fix. I'm so impatient.

I'm hoping this strange dread I'm feeling is just post-Rocky-partum depression of some sort. I had a lot of fun this year - a lot, and maybe it's just the wind-down afterwards. I just don't know. I've got a lot more on my mind now than I did just a few short weeks ago, though. Hoooo boy.

I certainly haven't poured this much honesty into my LiveJournal in a long time...literally, years. I planned on going to bed hours ago, but I just couldn't sleep. I should do that now. G'nite.

On his face is a map of the world

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 05:39:35 GMT

In the style of days gone by, I should be posting about how much life sucks, how broken everything is, and how shitty the world works. But I'm not going to this time.

I am so extremely tired that I should probably go to bed, but I'm obsessively messing with last.fm. I often forget how awesome that site is for long spans of time, and then am slowly reintroduced to it. I like this new generation of media players with it built in, too, so that I can just play and go.

last.fm are fun

Anyway, I have to go to sleep. We're having the official Band Recording Session of Justice^TM tomorrow. Rocky Horror rehearsal starts Monday - guess who's a tranny this year.

Huzzah.

Lemme lemme updaaate

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 02:54:49 GMT

So I figured it was about time for a LiveJournal update.

Footloose went insanely well, despite a hushed consensus that it wasn't going to. We had a few speed bumps, but in the end, we pulled it off and everybody loved it. It was an amazing amount of fun; I met new friends and got to know others way better than before. It has been one hell of an awesome ride, and I'm so glad I did it.

I fixed my laptop. I stuck my 7-year-old 6 GB hard drive in it from my old Gateway (which is, for all intents and purposes, very dead) and installed Ubuntu. Stop looking at me like that, I'm very well aware that I am a nerd. But just look at how pretty my desktop is...

The wallpaper is a Luis Royo original; he's an artist I recently discovered whilst trolling around the internet looking for awesome wallpapers. If you like angels, demons, cyborgs, and excessively attractive females in your fantasy world paintings, I would recommend checking him out.

The laptop is running much better now, despite having a hard drive that was conceived long before "widescreen" and "battery life better than 10 minutes" were hip in the laptop world. I still have to find a replacement for FL Studio in Linux; either that or get an external HDD and install an virtual XP machine to run it. Ehhh...

Let's see...what else is going on...well, not too much. The Black Hand is taking off pretty well, even though we haven't got to get together in a couple weeks. We started working on getting a real band arrangement of "The Flower That Drank The Moon," (you can hear the sequencer-generated prototype of this song at my Midnight Tigers page here), and have gleefully redubbed it "Ctrl+Z" for all of the times that key combination was implemented during the recording process at Tim's. Hopefully we can get some more recording done before Tim leaves. In any case, it will be true rock. Oh yes.

Summer is quickly making its way to a close - just about one more month of blissful sunny days until we're back into the creep of winter. Still, it's good; I'll get to see my honeybear sooner, and there will be Rocky Horror and Thanksgiving and other assorted favourites.

Now if only I worked closer to home, the word of impending winter wouldn't be so daunting.

Well, before this entry starts depressively meandering, I should call it good. Until next time, stay classy (insert local metropolitan area here).

Mother Fucker

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 02:00:19 GMT

Well, today I sat down to check out Myspace on my laptop and suddenly everything froze. I'm thinking, OK, Firefox is being a biggity bitch again, no worries. It unfroze and I went about my merry way. Then, it did it again, and after a few curses and flipping off the screen, suddenly the whole screen got cloudy white, and everything slowly faded away.

I panicked a bit as my gorgeous Ms. Marvel wallpaper was engulfed in an eerie N64 distance cloud. Then the beep-click came. "EEEP click EEEP click." Well, shit, I thought to myself while holding down the power button and crossing every appendage that had a pair.

I let it sit for a moment, then turned it on again, listening to the "EEEP click EEEP click" and watching a black screen with a telltale black cursor.

"DISK READ ERROR. Press Ctrl+Alt+Del to try again."

Fuck you.

So I tried again.

"DISK READ ERROR. Press Ctrl+Alt+Del to try again."

Fuck. You.

"EEEP click EEEP click"

FUCK YOU!

So the long and short of it is, my hard drive died, taking my most recent musical creations, art, writing, and a glorious amount of other irreplaceable data with it.

I tried it again after my 3 and a half hour dance practice. It almost started Windows, then blue-screened. I might stick it in the freezer and fire up Knoppix to see if I can pull the most precious files off.

But seriously, what the hell.

I also just took a sip of some weeks-old Diet Cherry Coke. It was horrible.

What a fucking day.

Oonts oonts oonts.

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 01:50:07 GMT

I am sore as hell.

Tonight was the first big all dance practice for Footloose. Being a person of relatively humble athleticism (read: I don't move unless I have to), I feel a bit out of place, and, well, not quite stretchy enough to be a dancin' fool. Alas, it is a lot of fun. But I'm sure it's going to sting tomorrow morning.

I've been working on music again. I haven't gotten much actual recording done yet, but I have two songs written and planned out that are going to be rather epic...or at least I hope they will be. I've been playing with Tim, Brad, Chris, and TJ a lot lately, and to my surprise we're all really good. It's an excellent feeling.

Work sucks, but today I managed to get things I've been working on for months (quite literally) to work. Hopefully this earns me a raise, or at least a few "attaboys." It seems like these upcoming weeks are going to be a whole lot of work, but whatever. I can stick it out for now.

I miss my girlfriend. :(

Oonts oonts, y'all.

Best thing ever. Ever.

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 01:35:51 GMT

FINISH ME!!

Sat, 31 May 2008 05:03:29 GMT

I GOT A ROLE IN FOOTLOOSE.

Wed, 28 May 2008 05:01:29 GMT

The guy on the left. Yeah, that's gonna be me.

Woot.

big ass rock

Thu, 15 May 2008 03:05:14 GMT

LOL LiveJournal, LOL.

So it's Wednesday. Yeah, Wednesday. Woooh. Work has been relatively slow lately, which is a relief compared to the couple of intense weeks we had late last month. There were a couple days there that probably took a year off my life. Here comes that ulcer.

Hopefully I'll get a raise soon.

The show is going well. There's lots of nakedness, which is always good. Even our bassist got naked tonight. OK, I probably could have done without that. In any case, you all should come see it when it opens Thursday and/or any of the other nights it's playing.

I miss my girlfriend. She is pretty much my best friend and we spent a lot of time together and it sucks not having her around. Le sigh. Hopefully I'll get a chance to go visit her sometime soon. Who's up for a trip downstate? ROAD TRIP!

Memorial day cannot come fast enough. I'm taking two days off (Friday and Tuesday) so I can have a nice, long, relaxing, not burning out weekend...unless of course I decide to forgo that vacation time and try for a week off in June (so I can hitch a ride with Rachel downstate for the aforementioned ROAD TRIP). Vacation is the best part about working...sadly. Well, I suppose the ability to purchase food and shelter could be considered perks, but when you're barely making either, the money falls a bit on the totem of "things I like about work."

Anyway, I'm rambling nonsensically. I should go to bed now. Goodnight, moon.

let the sunshine in

Sun, 11 May 2008 05:35:48 GMT

Ending a sentence in a preposition?! Preposterous! Unless you're talking about a song from the musical Hair, a classic from 1969, which is the third play I'll be participating in at the Vista Theater in Negaunee. I'm playing guitar in the Rebecca's pit, as usual, and so far, it's been pretty fun. Plays are always entertaining; I find it regrettable that I never participated earlier. Despite my minimal exposure, I've managed to have endless amounts of fun there and meet the girl of my dreams as well.

So Hair, the movie, is a flick I've always enjoyed. You can't help but be a fan of Treat Williams: the man is just so...manly. I'm really happy to be participating in the stage show, no matter how shitty my guitar work can be. It looks like it's going to be an excellent show. Huzzah!

Other than that, I've done little to nothing but work in the past week. I was made a Leader at my job, which is stressful, annoying, and fairly sparse on benefits (ie, same pay, more shit to do). It seems like the last few weeks have been crisis after crisis over there, and I'm just getting a bit burned out. Memorial Day just can't come fast enough.

Man, I missed LiveJournal, but I don't really think I have enough to write about at the moment...or at the very least, I don't have the stamina to write enough to justify an LJ revival. But I'll keep trying.

a baptism of fire

Fri, 09 May 2008 02:03:21 GMT

It has been a long, well-followed road on which I have walked to get here, to my new LiveJournal; this is hopefully my new home of online sarcasm, wit, and loathing, forged with pure vigor and just a touch of humorous spite. You might remember my old journal, which I had since shortly before New Year's Eve in 2003. Before that, it was my venerable old DeadJournal, which, having existed since April 29, 2002, proves to be a hard read these days, especially for the person who experienced the events therein.

Of course, betwixt and between, I've given over to a few other writing outlets, the most significant of which was probably my built-in blog at MySpace. A lot has changed since even my most recent updates to that; shows and hangouts, lives and living, breakups and falling in love.

So life is good, yes? It is. It has its ups, its downs, and its "what the fuck" moments, but I think I may have finally learned to love it all. So hopefully this journal will start out on the right foot...the good one, not the one with the stubbed toe that I usually start limping around on.

That, or I'll forget about it for a year. Heh.