With all of my musical instruments at the bottom of some soggy New Orleans landfill, it has come time to start trying to replace some of my gear. The short list of what I'd like to get:

Pearl Session SMX Kit
Rickenbacker Model 360
Rickenbacker Model 4003
Martin DX1K
Korg microKORG
Marshall TSL60

I can dream can't I?
link to this post   2:22 PM by Trey | (1)
Hmm...perhaps today should be Macabre Haiku Day? Write your own in the comments if you please. If this was a livejournal, I would write:

Listening to: pageninetynine
Feeling: soulless

Cut teeth on razor wire
Bloating flesh for wolves to feed
Bleached skulls in the sun

Back at work now. Work is a very special place for me recently. I know in my heart that the web application I am building right now is the most fantastic web application that I have ever seen. My pride swells when I see it load. As the client-side scripting loads server-side XML data pertinent to my interaction with the page, I feel informed and engaged, just as the future users of the application will feel. This is my magnum opus.

I'm not filled with such energy all the time. My creativity comes in healthy spurts. I suppose I'm mid-spurt right now. I would not like to think of it that way; I would prefer to always be spurting. We all know that is impossible. Just as Roark bided his time, I will bide mine. However, unlike Roark, I don't condescend. I love you all.

Road rage, what's up with you? Some bad cases of road rage were showing up in or around New Orleans this weekend. I prefer road love. Car manufacturers should invent a standardized docking system for cars that would allow fellow travelers to engage in road love. Nothing sexual, just a vehicular way to say, hey, I like your style. If the other party agrees, the cars are joined by a magnetic field that allows the two cars to drive in unison, to the destination of the their choosing. They can share music, conversation, or even gasoline.

Listen to me brothers and sisters: Road love, straight up and down.

Listening to: the new Mogwai
Feeling: like a spokesman for the revolution
link to this post   9:21 AM by Trey | (1)

Moody Blues
40 x 30 / 48 x 36

I've forgotten this artist's name so many times that I need to put it in a place that I will never lose it. Forgive the interruption:

Robert Cook

Thanks to a certain someone who randomly brought up his name in conversation after I was trying to remember for the past week, I was saved from the agony of forgetfulness forevermore. You're a peach!
link to this post   10:10 AM by Trey | (1)

С?а??лив?е ??аздники!

Happy Holidays! In Soviet Russia, the whiskey drinks you!

link to this post   7:28 AM by Trey | (0)
When I was younger, I grew to an impressive height in a short period of time, resulting in my extraordinary vertical stature. While this physical state has afforded itself a number of positive and negative consequences, my favorite side-effect has been one of the "negative" ones.

This phenomenon occurs when I stand to my full height after sitting upright at rest for some time. While I have been told that what I experience is certainly nothing more than a rush of blood to my head, it is an out-of-body state that is frightening and transcendental. The feeling is euphoric; my vision is clouded by iridescent "sprites," my extremities are overcome with a pleasant tingling sensation, and my weight falls away. I try to remember to find a soft spot or a nearby chair, for at this point I will surely lose consciousness.

Awake. Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one. Those words are floating through my head inevitably as I realize what happened. I'm on the floor. The pleasant sensation is fading, and my vision comes back. Sometimes I realize that I fell on something or hit my head and acknowledge the pain that starts winding its way through my senses. Everything is new to me, yet familiar. I am surprised when color starts coming back to the world.

It is my reset switch. I pretend like I died for one second and this is my new life. Maybe it is.
link to this post   1:28 PM by Trey | (1)