It's amazing to have found a place to write about things and actually get feedback. Kudos to shoutpost!

I've done nothing all day. Zilch. Jack doo doo. I'm sitting here on the love seat having just finished watching doctor who and squid boy is making me pizza rolls. Ah, squid boy. He is my roomie's boyfriend. He really is a nice bloke but he has this hair that's really short except for this log strand on the side of his head. It's a tentacle-like thing and it's very Trent Reznor circa 1991. Hence the nickname squidboy.

Do you everget stuck in wikipedia loops? This is a daily occurrence for me as I get curious about one topic and then I'm led into a Whirlwind of of subjects. From the nutritional content of eels, to the different types of squid, to giant squid, then to Nessie the lochness monster, and ending with "chessie" the fabled monster of the Chesapeake Bay. I end up completely forgetting the original quest and I've yet to discover how good or bad eel is for you.

We eat squid and eel at least 3 times a week and I was curious what i'm actually putting into my body in the way of vitamins and healthy stuff. Maybe someone here knows the answer to that.

I'm finally getting in a mood for writing new music! I've gotten a solid backing band and they know their shit so i'm VERY excited at the arrangements I've been able to compose with the new configuration.

I'll leave you with a smattering of some of my material. This is the centerpiece of the album I'll be recording in a few months. It's a spoken word piece entitled "intoxication"

his face cracks in the moonlite, from the calm yet bitter wind.

while he's cruising down some back alley to the places he that he thinks that he has been.

and like a poster child for anorexia he is small and fading away,

while yet full of steam and breathing air and not knowing that he's going astray.

and he is what you have when there is nothing left and you need something to live for,

in the lines of time that are not yet written he can revel and find strength to give more.

blackened eyes and painted nails and seaweed hair like some side show act

but, if you look at him he'll tell you "i'm alive" but i tell you he's barely even that...

so look at me i'm your circus freak comin' to your town when i can stand up

and then i'll dance for you and sing a song or two and you might even see me erupt

'cause like a hurricane i've been blown away into this strange yet beautiful fate,

in the line of fire in the gaping hole of exposure in between love and hate.

and he seems to have it all figured out but it's just to make sure you wont see,

behind his jaded eyes he is still sorting through lies and still deciding who he wants to be...

and the bloodstains on the carpet are just memories of the sadness he brings,

from the back of his mind comes this fountain of time and it springs hope whenever it sings.

we're all razor blades of anguish and shame, divided by walls of sin and greed

and labels and styles and statistics of the miles that we walk just to quench the need that we feed

to come back and sing like angels and birds in some cheap happy holiday plot,

ya know, the after school special where the kids have the guns and the parents just pray to "god" that they never smoke pot.

and he sits and stands and spins and smiles

and he's walkin' down the street for miles and miles and miles

and then he sees the sunset shining through the trees

and the ying yang of clouds makes him feel more at ease.

in a world of best buys and breast-fed manipulation,

he will sit here and cry in the natural intoxication.