I Can’t Feel My Fingers

Seriously, I can’t feel my fingers; they’re not bleeding, but they’re close.

If you haven’t guessed my Tele got here today, and I haven’t put it down, even though I’m freakin’ sick.
It is just as beautiful as I had hoped.

My only problem now is how jealous my other guitars are going to get with the new girl struttin her stuff around the block.

Typing is starting to make my fingers hurt so I will talk to ya later.

The Conflict of Knowlege

This is the story of a magician,
A man playing to an audience of spectators sitting in utter amazement, trying with desperation to break down what they just saw into understandable terms. The last man in the world able to create wonder, a trick only known to himself, is absolutely invaluable in this world, and yet he wishes for nothing more than an eternal rest.

I have heard it said that language is nothing more than the human brain trying to explain away the universe; for people cannot handle the truth… that the universe cannot be explained. For after all, all of our most brilliant hypothesies are completely dependant on our assumption that what the universe does do is what the universe should do. All of our hypothesies are dependant on other hypothesies.

The magician goes home to an empty house of nothing more amazing than a light bulb burning bright. Light particles traveling at an astounding rate and reflecting off of everything that they touch. All explained. All boring.

Most humans have the assumption that they have a nature that is bad. A desire to be selfish. A tendency to think of our selves before others, and yet, we stop ourselves to do the “right” thing. Why? If we have a nature to be selfish than why would we choose to do something against our nature?

The magician’s answer for such a question is that, for some unknown reason, humans need to relate with other humans; to understand and to be understood. Why, he cannot say. And in this world it is the only thing that keeps him from crying himself to sleep every night.

A tear does drop from his eye this night however, but it is not because there is no more wonder in the world, on the contrary, it is that this one elusive element of life is so beautiful that he cannot stop himself.


What is a poet? An unhappy man who conceals profound anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so fashioned that when sighs and groans pass over them they sound like beautiful music. His fate resembles that of the unhappy men who were slowly roasted by a gentle fire in the tyrant Phalaris’ bull—their shrieks could not reach his ear to terrify him, to him they sounded like sweet music. And people flock about the poet and say to him: do sing again; Which means, would that new sufferings tormented your soul, and: would that your lips stayed fashioned as before, for your cries would only terrify us, but your music is delightful. And the critics join them, saying: well done, thus must it be according to the laws of aesthetics. Why, to be sure, a critic resembles a poet as one pea another, the only difference being that he has no anguish in his heart and no music on his lips. Behold, therefore would I rather be a swineherd on Amager, and be understood by the swine than a poet, and misunderstood by men.

Søren Kierkegaard ~ Diapsalmata

I Can’t Breathe.

I just ordered my brand new Telecaster!!!!!!!!!!!

See how perty!

Any way I’m psyched out of my mind about this so I thought I’d share my psychedoutedness with you guys.

A Not So Happily Ever After

Alright so I wrote this a few months back, and yes, I have posted it before but, I never got any criticism concerning it. So I am re-posting this fairy tale in hopes that I may receive a bit, no matter how harsh.

Any ideas for names would also be much appreciated, But for now it will remain titled
A Fairy TaleAdobe Acrobat Reader

The Best Prank Ever!

Alright so let’s start out with me painting you a little picture…

If a girl asks me for my number (whether I am attracted to her or not) I can’t say no.

So I’m working the drive-through at starbucks the other day and these four girls come through in a tiny Bug and are extremely giggly and all that stuff and we talk a little bit because that’s what I do; I talk to everybody that comes through… One thing leads to another and all the girls say to the driver “Get his number!” So she says,
“Hey, we want to invite you to her birthday party at Millikin.” pointing to the girl in the passenger seat “Give us your number.”

Oh crap!
Seven digits come flying out of my mouth; there was no stopping them.

I gave them my number knowing full well that I was just not going to answer or going to have to come up with a lie when they called.

ten minutes after they leave… a voicemail.
two minutes after that… a text.

can you say crazy?

the texts continued, asking if I was at work so they could come see me, what I was doing this weekend, why am I not texting back… these types of things.

All of this was fine until I’m walking through the mall a couple of nights ago and I get a text that says “I just saw you in JC Penny.”

I began to run.

Later that night I’m at a fellow co-workers house and I start to look at a list of other employee’s phone numbers and one number stands out amongst the rest… The number of one Miss Crazy Pants; otherwise know as my shift manager.

So I start leaving her text messages… at four in the morning…

“I’m laying in bed thinking about you… what are you wearing?”

So much fun, how should this end?

Follow-Up to Re-Creation

The “Conservation of Matter” Law states that Matter can neither be created nor destroyed; I postulate that this is also true with thoughts. My time without outside influences was short lived, for the simple fact that, I couldn’t stand it!

Perhaps getting rid of all influences is not the answer; perhaps it is just having fewer… But again, this hypothesis is fallible, in the way that, if we only have certain influences then we become unbalanced in our thinking and therefore biased when confronted with a new idea or principle. Perhaps the only way to actually re-create what is given, is to take it and apply it to all things… without forgetting to contribute your own thoughts. Balance… It’s chaos!

So, I went to a Switchfoot concert on Sunday evening!


Switchfoot is my favorite band, and I have been waiting to go to one of their concerts forever.

They are on their Appetite for Construction Tour, where for every ticket purchased a dollar was donated to Habitat For Humanity.

We got there four hours early, pending my prerogative to be the first ones there… We weren’t…. But we did get the front of the floor; pretty much as close as you can get. The only downfall of being in the very front is that when other people are pushed, they push the people in front of them, and the people in front of them, and so on; there were no people in front of me! Nope. Nothing but a big steel barricade that had a fun time inside my ribcage.

But it was definitely worth it; the show was amazing.

Other “not so cool” things that happened while at the concert:

~ Jori, the girl I met before the show, passed out within five minutes of the opening act.

~ the kid in front of me wouldn’t stop humping me.

~ ok there were only two, but I figured they were funny or not so funny enough to share, and I couldn’t figure out how to fit them into my above paragraph.

Also, while waiting in line and during the four hour drive there and back I had to find something to do so… out came KEv’s iPhone and we found this really cool website called freerice.com where you take, what is basically, a vocab quiz and for every question you get right they donate 10 grains of rice through the UN and their sponsors (ie. American Express iTunes etc.) to end world hunger… a small step anyway.


So, over the next week I think I’m going to take a break from the modern world as much as possible (i.e. Internet, T.V., Books) really just any kind of outside influence, and take part in creating a, sort of, re-creational type of atmosphere.

I am going to attempt to take myself back to the basics of what I think and feel, and try to take an extremely deep introspective look at myself.

Since I am planning on trying to create an atmosphere of solitude it will probably end up being one of the busiest weeks of my life, but alas, how I handle that will probably just tell me something more about myself.

Anyway, since I will be taking a break from the internet, this means no blogging for the next week, but I shall see you again in the not so very near future, but not so far as to forget me. I wish you a fond farewell and C-ya later!

Mid-Weak Update.

Sorry about not blogging anything lately; there just doesn’t seem to be anything to talk about.

The only things I have really thought about lately seem to be extremely trivial, such as, Should I grow my hair back out or should I keep it short. (I miss my hair!!!)

Is Stephen Colbert actually going to run for President??? (He tried… He failed)

Did you hear that the Westboro Baptist Church people were fined 11 Mil. (Finally)

Do I actually have someone new that is going to come back and read my blog or was that just a one time thing? (I don’t blame you if you don’t want to come back; there doesn’t seem to be anything worth reading around her)

See? Extremely trivial right???

I weighed myself the other day and for some reason I’ve lost like 13 pounds. 122 lbs… That’s Crazy!!!

A Muse Without an Artist

To be an artist would be a great adventure.

I wish that I could be an artist with everything inside of me..?.. “I wish”… words that don’t normally come out of my mouth.

Could it be that something inside of me is changing; that the impossible is becoming possible once again; that the world doesn’t seem such a cruel place after all?

Oh, but alas, my old self will not let me forget the tortures of this world; my old self will not let me be content in my emotion.

When I recollect that I am human and neglect to hate my self for it, the voice inside screams, “You were happier then!” a lie that rings so true.

The object of my uniquity gone. Taken by that which makes me weak. And that which makes me weak making me strong… Living in that paradox is beautiful and astounding.

Art; true art, is a perfect balance of reality and “the way it could be” in the eyes of the person doing the balancing. Could it be that I am an artist? Could it be that everything that I wish for is actually real. Could it be that this balancing act that I do, I merely take for granted. And could it be, that after all this time there really is no answer, but just more questions?

I don’t really know. In fact I don’t even know what I’m waiting for, but what I do know is, that no matter how hard I try, unless I’m looking for another question, I’m not going to find a thing….

And that’s beautiful.