| This Totally Mysterious Book You Found in This House Where This One Guy Died |
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| say last sentence like robert deniro |
[05 Sep 2003|01:03pm] |
I almost feel like I should stop being so public now that I know what's up. I just went to my fan board and made a post revealing the big news. I'm worried about how everyone will react. some people just seem quick to judge. But I thought it a good idea to let the most hard core fans know before I put it on my site. so here's the deal: we're in. went to DC. had dinner with benji. oen of the first things he said to me is "we gonna get you guys some money." which is music to my ears considering the fact that today, I don't have enough money for rent and my car broke down. I guess I won't be making too many more of these entries. I thought about it, having a daily jounral for fans, but I think it's just too dangerous. I don't censor myself on these things. loose lips sink ships. I'm still at work doing accounting for a cancelled show and don't know how I'll survive until I get my advance from the big record company people. Until then, I'm just having fun calling about people like my mom listening to her cry tears of joy. I'm on friendster. name's emcee. so if anyone is reading this journal beside ellen and nate then feel free to hit me up. there was a moment we were driving from DC to Annapolis to have dinner. and yes, the car was an escalade. I was looking out the window at the trees flying by it dark green clouds. I looked at my knees and saw they were shaking. I said to myself. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe this is happening to me. I can't believe I'm living this life. I can't believe fate found a way to one up being a cartoon on tv. I had the best birthday of my life. Was treated with such kindness and respect from every direction. I'm used to being three things: poor, depressed and high. I can't believe it's all gonna change. Don't get me wrong though.
I'll still get high.
Love to all you guys and feel free to write or friendster me at your leisure. wish, pray, dance... do whatever, let's just hope this shit goes down. downtown to china town. xomc
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| he's gotta have it |
[28 Aug 2003|12:47pm] |
well so much for sleeping in. couldn't do it. got on friendster and fucked around a while. smoked two cigarettes. everybody's gonna be gone on my birthday jam. so sending invites and trying to get people together has been an all out failure. they shouldn't call them birthdays they should call them: see nobody likes you day.
without hearing from gc all week I've been all kinds of nervous that I was imagining everything. of course brother josh, wrote to tell me some company wants to put my shirts on hot topic and in spencers. he also said a lot of gay dudes would really be into my music and I don't know how to take that. I just said that one of the funniest fanmails I ever got was from a detention center for gay juvenile delinquents. they said my music was the only thing that made them happy. I'll take it. and after listening to junior senior non stop maybe gay music is the new thing. too bad I dig chicks. maybe I should rethink that. can you rethink hormones?
been talking (two messages to be exact) to this girl amy on friendster. I'd seen her at mjq looking good while she danced about with shirley temple curls. I wrote her and she wrote back and we were talking history, mainly the revolutionary war, benjamin franklin, taxation of the colonies. she wrote back this long smart email and I fell deep. history discussions are a big turn on I've discovered. I feel slimey hitting on girls on the internet but after the last mjq debacle with the hags. I'm think dating people in person should be put off as long as possible. get to know eachother first via clever well thought out advances. I deleted all my jeanie emails. took me three months but I did it. why do we hold on to break up letters for so long? sick ritual. I feel ten pounds lighter.
so now I'm in nyc. I hear a high powered hose outside. john's room is dark. I'm bored. wishing amy or benji would write, send limo's to fetch me. adam and I will go out and get drunk tonight. I have no cash, so it will be awkward because when we lived together I was laways borrowing or skimping or something. I wanna see the VMA's in case something awesome like benji wearing my shirt happens. but hanging out with adam is where I need to be. I'll get all caught up in these shallow things and forget who my real friends are. I shoulda had the party tonight. that woulda made sense.
well, I'm gonna go play john's roommate's cube a little and then maybe get some grub or steal some from the fridge. The boss took to me to one of those brazilian meat restaurants for lunch, a big expensive send off, thinking I'd come home with two weeks notice tattooed on my forehead. it's cool that I have job security, but I guess I really am done with the atl. but maybe I'd be just as lonely in nyc. I iwsh I just knew what was going to happen over the next few months. I notice that I'm always really depressed the day before pay day. money makes the man. or at least this man.
xomc
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| impending mood |
[25 Aug 2003|12:21pm] |
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tic. tic. tic. this entry is the equivalent of a cigarette break. I'm going to be 28 in nine days. I had a horrible weekend, only because of its excess. fell in love until my best friend said she was out of my league, ever since he said that I'm not sure if I'm gonna throw the word "best" in front of friend anymore. that's the just the tip of the shitberg with that guy but I won't get into it. well I will say this, if I got a crush on someone don't invite mean ugly girls back to my house and then ditch me. they didn't like my music. I should just escort people out of my house if they don't like my music. well thanks but goodbye. I'll be dating tara reid in about a week's time, so I'm not interested in making you happy because you have a gut and zits and that's a big no-no. (my gut and zits will not be a part of the discussion.) my favorite part was cruising around with marc, listening to op ivy. we both knew all the words. marc would be looking at my porno mags and he'd say something like, "now there's a dreamy clam." cracked me up. I smoked everyone up all weekend long as was left with jack shit on sunday, nothing to do but finish medal of honor, and you know that the end of a medal of honor game is in no way fulfilling. silent hill 3 should be here any day and I got a bejamin franklin doc and final destination 2 coming my way. watched a joni mitchell doc and was completely inspired to just stick to being me, that's good enough, better than some. did a really good show on saturday but no fans driving from countless miles to check it out. It still felt good to me which is all that matters. been rockin out to junior senior all weekend. fuckin hilarious. I love the nordic tracks. it inspired me to do dishes and I got so into the finger puckering beats I almost forgot to show up and do the improv show. I leave for new york in two days and will be gone for a week. I don't have much prepared, but I think I'll write during the day while john's at work. stick myself in the sweat and steam of a new york summer and see what bubbles up. I been drinkin like a fish, eating whatever, too nervous to behave. I can't wait till my birthday party, by that point I'll have a better idea of what to feel. man, I really want to leave atlanta and stop working. I'm tired of not wanting to get up in the morning. these entries will most likely get more and more morose until I type that special one in all caps. xomc
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| flat |
[20 Aug 2003|02:44pm] |
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waiting, waiting, waiting. for riches, for love, for the cool winds of autumn that don't arrive in atlanta until the middle of november. I am getting excited about next weekend. I meet with the good guys, record some more box blowing jams, have a birthday, close in on thirty. maybe my dad'll be there. he's been in nyc recently on business. I went to see the secret lives of dentists last night and despite grand performances, I found it trite, and left the theater unmoved. I wait patiently for my netflix, some truffaut (sp?) a joni mitchell doc, and thunderbolt and lightfoot. we'll see how that goes. robin tuney (sp?) was in dentists. her part couldn't've been smaller but my heart would race every time she came on screen. I dated a girl that worked in a dentist's office once, always found it sexy. I bought silent hill 3, hopefully that'll eat up some weekend. I read my lyrics to the christmas song to my dj last night. he approved. everyone's approved, including benji, of the idea. I talked to my mom and told her how worried I was that I'd be forced to write unflattering depcition of christmas in my house growing up, but found an out. you'll just have to wait and see. i love making her laugh. she's so easy in that regard. whereas the rest of the time I'm trying to make comedian's laugh and they don't want to laugh at anything but their own jokes. ugh. I'm bored. nothing to do tonight. no cable, no netflix, no ganj, no gas, no beer. grrrr... I'm a bad mood dude. telephone call: oh, that was security, my passenger side tire is pretty low. great. I could use some air myself. xomc.
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| allentown |
[18 Aug 2003|04:26pm] |
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where is the new music? I'm sick of "right thur" and "gettin low" and jt and fifty have played their course. beyonce's got her other singles to put out, but other than that: nothing. wanna hear something funny and you'll hate me after I say it, but that "wake me up" song by evanescene can play all day on repeat as far as I'm concerned. I know, I know, daredevil... but come on. when I first heard it I thought it was holly arnstein from dream and I was like fuck yessir! but it wasn't. dream's back btw, end of october we get another taste of dream. melissa's gone, off to study acting, and the new girl's like sixteen. yikes. I was just hopin they'd get older right quick, but not too quick like 3LW, they came back all britnified, bellies a blazin. I just like the music, in case you think I'm sick. And if you think I'm sick because I like over computerized voice corrected pop made by teams instead of artists then fuck you, cuz I like shitty music. don't fuck wit my dream. I like michelle branch's song, I can't believe she's on the same label as the rentals. I'm ready for some uncle junior action, in fact maybe I'll just go buy that shit, having only heard one song. but ad boy slim likes'm so there's that. and I like that sarai song. I wish I could be in some highschool dance and watch all the chicks flip out and hit the dance floor, just cuz sarai told'm so. there's nothing to report. I fell in love with this girl called kate, but she livesin allentown and was gone before I could blink. aint it the way. I did an improv show too for eight people that rocked. sometimes it's the little things. xomc
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| back to the lab again |
[12 Aug 2003|01:37pm] |
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new york sucks. but my dj is awesome. the atl has spoiled me with its empty bars and two dollar beers. I had 4 twenty dollar bils to my name when I rolled into the sprawling metro. with in about five seconds I think I was left with two pennies and one of those pennies was a button. I spent six dollars on a budweiser at one point and wanted to run home to the land of abandoned thoroughfares and big beers for change. I was even told to stop dancing at a bar with a really bad dj, so I wasn't even allowed to get my non threatening groove on to the music that sucked to begin with. something about a cabaret license. and the no smoking thing is kinda funny, kinda weird liek you're in someone's parent's basement. it was nice to see old friends, only stuck my foot in my mouth about two times, which is good considering. saw mike d in the village where he was bartender, bearded with a few extra lbs and an alien air of responsibility. he got me drunk. saw john g, who had justed finished shooting "palindromes" todd solondz' next movie. john's on all my skits. he's funny as shit, still I managed to keep a straight face more than usual. met my dj the next day at 6:30pm. his job isn't too hip on days off, so we had little precious time to work. he looked older as he ran out of the subway with long hair and little mountain man scraggles on his face. everyone was commenting on my skinny bod. I only assume I looked like absolute shit beforehand, because I think I still need a good deal of work. John and I played music and talked for an hour or two and then met up with ellen, who I think has epstein bar, seeming pooped beyond repair all weekend. she began a monsoon of kisses on john that didn't let up the whole weekeend. they were happy and it was a nice thing to see. I hung out at mcmannus after seeing curtis and john do some opposite of atlanta improv (quietly and slowly, carefully working up laughs like they were wine grapes.) mcmannus was fun, everyone was nice, too many new faces. like its my new hometown. you truly can never go back but it's nice to, just to see the faces of the folks that replaced you. friday we worked and it went so smoothly, so fast, without issue, I was is awe of what a well oiled machine my dj and I had become. we recorded three songs in one day, some better than others, none of them duds. we attempted to go out that night but it was a horrendous failure, packed karaoke with broadway singers, hot as balls weather that actually turned my balls into a faucet of sweat, jeans sticking to my legs, we met up with one of john's friends at one of those shi-shi get me the fuck out of here bar/hotels. he was cool, a fan than makes four times what I do, his girlfriend was cuntastic, one of those lame-o ivy leaguers that couldn't feign blue collar niceties even if they tried, and they don't. Saturday we got more done, it wasn't as startling as day one, but still good. and as always, whatever song I dislike the most, that's the other side's favorite, as was the case with yacht birds, a song that at first seemed laborious, but has since evolved into some kind of hallmark card complete with birds holding silver banners, flowers and fireworks. just needs a lil retoolin. saturday night I trekked out to wonderfully cheap and abandoned jc to see leavitt. She got me drunk and high and we both marveled at our atkins bodies. she's accomplished quite a bit more than I, losing 100 or so lbs. I could begin to see the true jean inside, waiting in the wings, desperate to just be a face and nothing more or less. we had a good laugh, boosted eachother's morale and then I was off into the rain which made me homesick for the monsoons of the atl. despite have less than ten bucks at this point, I slowly walked, soaked to the bone to the chicken master to buy some fries. a huge pile for a dollar. I missed you so, chicken shack. then I couldn't help but dip my head into the old man bar where the weekend festivites were in full flux. percussion instruments were out, not a lick of english was being spoken. I walk in and the bartender istantly recognizes me: Chris! I'm not sure if his name is Moses, but I say it anyway and it is. we shake and he fetches me a corona for two dollars. home. I headback to spanish harlem completely at peace. John and Ellen are quiet and ready to throw on a DVD. I'm feeling the third wheel and my clothes are soaked so I crash. Sunday we finish OWNS and robot dog and then I head to Laguardia to find my flight is delayed. some kids see my notebook with the network logo on it and I tell them that I'm dexter's voice, like they know who Hesh is. kids get excited, some fat dude in his thirties calls his cellphone to report to his friend that he's sitting next to Dexter. I give an especially sweet girl a network pen, she burned herself on her forehead witha curling iron, she desrves a pen at least. on the plane someone from the network is a couple rows ahead of me. she yawns like she doesn't see me. I get worried she'll report my dexter charade to her superiors. I don't give too much of a fuck and pass out. soon I'm home, my car is where I left it. I listen to my music till three and pass out. I haven't felt like eating sleeping drinking and or smoking since I got home. monday I was fine, editing, whipits, netflix. today, I'm in some sort of rut, feeling abused, neglected, lonely: all sorts of bad, can't put my finger on it. my demeanor is too revealing, boss keeps on asking me what's a matter? I tell him it's something personal and to not let it bother him. I can't pinpoint what i'm feeling. maybe I just need some sleep. let's hope that's it. vague ennui is worse than the regular kind. xomc
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| fifty cc's of mc |
[31 Jul 2003|04:38pm] |
what a week. I'm spent like the rent. kobe closed on saturday. some fans drove 400 ki to come see me. pretty amazing. my boss and the athf PA's came to see it too, very nice of them, we went and had some beers at yacht, then I was off to mjq and then backstreet where we got seriously messed up and thrown out. or I got thrown out and my friend along with me, something about projectile vomitting. so I'm prolific... then it's looking for my car, then it's sitting on someone's lawn and having a two hour convo (can't recall a word of it.) woman goes to walk her dog, it's dawn. "does he need an ambulance?" that's been asked twice this summer. and this will be third time getting thrown out. I guess I'm just getting feistier as time goes on rather than sedate. let's hope I survive my twenties. off to the woods without a wink of sleep to babysit a hyperactive three year old for five hours. and it was never my intention to do so. the details aren't necessary. I did get in quite a few sponge bob episodes and cracked up often. I'd never really given it much of a chance cuz the enemy makes it. i kept on passing out on the bed and then this laughing three year would jump on my head. actual convo while I tied his little shoes:
mc: what drinks do you like to drink?
alli: i don't like whisky. or beer. but I like rootbeer. rootbeer's pretty good. and water. and ice. I like drinking ice.
monday the tattletales roll into town, doin the old punk rock pitch, can we crash? I greet them with four beers and lots of dope and we hang out and I show'm some cartoons but refrained from playing any new music because of the drama that lies therin. we ate some food and went to karaoke which was a laborious undertaking to be kind. we listened to poorly sung ballads for what seemed like a lifetime. then the punk rock kids went up and sang 'minority' but I felt a little guilty cuz I was handin off pbr tallboys tryin to get'm soused when I know they had no cash. and they was soused when they sang. atl was not ready for the punk onslaught. all I saw was nyc cool. I rocked the mike, the audience all cheered, girls peered over their booths to catch a glimpse of the rapping wunderkind. we left the near empty bar and ran home to video games and turns of I'm not gonna pass out... zzzzzz... had a little health scare, thought I had cancer all week, but saw the doctor today and all's cool that end's cool. starting rehearsing for another improv show, but felt too sick to really put my all into it. and now next week is new york and recording and there's still some writing needed to be done for the five songs I plan to bring with me. so much to do. last night I took off to watch netflix (daredevil and deerhunter) to relax and do nothing and that's what I plan to do all weekend. I need to make my rhymes rza razor sharp and be ready to get my junk outta here.
I don't have mtv right now, so I've been going to their website to watch new vids. like sarai's. I think she looks like the andrea from 90210 but really skinny and blonde. cute. bad rhymes but she drops a cee-lo reference so now I think we should make out. too bad she's going the ghetto route. only solidifies my belief in whitie rap, there is none. I watched dream's new vid. they got a new girl that the camera never really stays on for too long. she's the youngest. yum. i love's me some dream and the dirty old man thoughts that follow. the new song is eh... but I love their first album to such an extent that I will forgive lapses in judgement and cast changes. as for fanny pack and northern state... NEXT! every new song I hear, except for that junior senior song, or is it senior junior, falls pretty flat. the scene needs to get injected with some real spunk, something new, something that kicks ass and gets street respect, something that sells like hotcakes but tastes like french toast. if only there was an act, some gift from god, to answer all these prayers... if only... if only. xomc
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| reviving ophelia |
[23 Jul 2003|11:44am] |
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bored. bored. bored. last night I went right to bed, because I had no cable, no motivation, no movies. I practiced rapping for a little then passed out. In two hours I woke up, ready to be up all night like I read about Robert Rodriguez doing in this week's Time. I went to Yacht Club for some dinner, delicious. downloaded q-bert onto my phone. impossible. then I sprint throught the rain to the star bar where it was funk night. right awway I hit the photobooth, despite it being the locale of the first kiss of the last girlfriend, I love photo booths far too much to pass them up. bad omen: the pictures developed close to totally black. I tossed them. the dj was going but the floor was empty surrounded by girls who desperately wanted to fill it, not yet drunk. I danced a little, ran home to meet up with matt, who just got out of modest mouse (not my cup of tea.) he hung out and drank while I shook my tailfeather somethin rotten. he wanted to go after about thirty minutes. I wanted to stay, but it was a sausage party and the girls that were on the floor slobbered all over their boyfriends and danced horribly. sometimes what a woman thinks is sexy can be completely horrible. but it white hot funk night, where frat guys bring their dates to get them all filled up funk (it loosens the morals, y'see.) there were a few cute ones, I closed in on. but nothing, I'm pulled out breathing heavy into the rain which feels all batman baptismal. He dropped me off and I force myself to go to bed. i'm glad I went out. I should've gone alone. better than dragging a wingman that doesn't wantt o dance and has no one to talk to. (insert girl here) one last thing... the dream I had during my two hour after work nap involved me being cast as hamlet with anjelina jolie as ophelia. the dream was about hanging out reheasing lines. At one point I peer around a corner to watch her sleep and I only see her back, the burgundy colored sheet hanging off her hip. nothing really good happened but I'll be damned if nothing really horrible happened. best dream ever. xomc
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| shot glass |
[22 Jul 2003|12:54pm] |
it's raining right now, feel like it's been all summer. it's made it windy and cool though, this morning was heaven, but then there's all those bug bites.
I went to the movies alone last night, trying to conjur up some of the childhood glory,those empty days of summer. for some reason going to a movie on a weeknight was always such a big deal, you went in groups, it was an event, Denny's afterward to eat fries, drink coke. the movie was bad boys II, didn't quite know where the theater was at, God led me to it, not so much as one wrong turn. on the way home, I was all over the place. I think I might've touched down in Madagascar for a brief (insert local dish.)
I was alone. I've felt pretty damn lonely since I moved into my new place. Going to the movies alone used to be a great stress reliever for me, the sound of the projector, popcorn filled cheeks ready to burst. Now that I've had this big relationship which entailed lots of movie outings, well, now movies have become this place, not to seek safety, but more like, a place where you can go with your girl when you're tired of home. The movie was awful, some camera was stuff fun to try to figure out but the acting and the script felt... well, improvised. Gabrielle Union though, hot shit on the platter, foxiest black woman on thee planet. looking at her up close was worth price of admission. aintitcool got me pumped for a blood bath. I saw a klansmen attached to a wire... come on Michael Bay, your productions are the most expensive. Nice cameo, too, idiot. Grrrr. Michael Bay.
Man, I need someone to talk to, someone to flirt wit. I've been in six plays this month and no nook? Why did I get into theater in the first place? Everyone's talking about how skinny I am, well, c'mon ladies! I know that once my punim is up on that screen the tables will turn, brother will they turn. And then I'll have excess and everything'll feel shallow. great. I'm just gonna tattoo gabrielle union to the inside of my eyelids and go to sleep. This is Grumpus McGee signing off! xomc
ps. GC wants me on their Christmas Compilation album. everyone raise a glass and pray for a kickass christmas song from yours truly. this could be my one shot.
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| DJ JUSTICE |
[17 Jul 2003|04:28pm] |
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I gotta say, I love me some real astrology from Rob Brezny, he always seems to say just what I need to hear (aye, there's the rub.) but there are times where I wish my perspective on my life was further back so I could see the big picture, and he just writes in a way, where her's like: I know, I know, right now it's tough, but if you keep your head up things will tie up nicely soon. even if it's a sham, it instills a smidge of confidence that was lacking before, a feeling of "this is gonna work out somehow, things will settle, and we can think clearly soon, get the right work done." my brother called me up telling me he was fine and not to worry. he lives in Venice, CA with his wife and babies and they're all kinds of healthy, chompin down on Cali's banquette of fresh produce. The farmer's market where they shop every day was plowed through by some old crazy man, Wilford Brimley on the GTA tip. He was rattled and worried even though nothing happened. there must be no fear like that of a parent. Last night, I managed to meet everyone from Kobe at the bar and not drink (I did have chicken fingers... goddamn it) while we all read our second review in the Creative Loafing, Atlanta's Reader/Voice. amber got a nod which will fill her veins with confetti and balloons. I was not mentioned, but that can be a good thing. the last review focused on me for about a paragraph, glad I made it through the article without being called short or silly voiced. talked to big brother Josh yesterday who set all my fears to rest about the GC. These guys talk about me like I'm the next messiah, and I can't wait to fulfill their expectations. These new beats I'm getting from John have given me the biggest boner to rip this hat trick bitch wide open. I can't wait to not only to take it the next level but just start sounding better and better. like what if we haven't made the song that will really define us yet? there was the shadow of fett over the second album and now it's just like, let's have fun, improvise, fuck around, be ourselves, see what happens, forget the past. Went to Randy's while construction workers dealt with the magically leaking road outside my house. water was just seeping out of the concete, no hole, no visible pipes. who knows what lies beneath us? it filled my toilet with some sort of evil brown rust, blacker than black cauldron black, the way it swirled down in this dark green whirlpool of forboding doom, like in dragon's lair, spooky, but ridiculous. We watched the GC concert on the MTV. I shouted to the TV screen, dont' be so sad! I'm coming. I got mad jokes. I'll cut you down the sides just like DJ Justice. Punch Drunk is out on DVD and I've seen it three times now and I'm shitting my pants over how pitch perfect it is, everything, camera work, sound, acting. amazing. And I was not a PT Fanderson before it came out, nor an Adam Fandler. It's weird. I saw it with my girlfriend when it first came out, thinking I was in love and aint love grand? Seeing it when you're alone makes you think it will happen and it will be easy, an uncontrollable force, it'll be effortless. Life's not like the movies. Tonight we have dress rehearsal for the understudies. I just wanna go home and get lifted after being on the verge of tears over invoices and spreadsheets that couldn't be more greek. you ever get someone's workload cuz they quit and it's not your thing, and your kinda scratching your head with a pencil and those few rules they spit at you before they left are now slipperier than marbles on a waterslide, popping out of your hands, impossible to hold. I was almost crying. Everyone just thinks it's funny. They're all sharpening their knives above my head chanting, "comeuppance, comeuppance, comeuppance!" My only revenge will be this record deal, if it happens. then I can leave, blast out of this cartoon inferno leaving swirling papertrails in my wake. if I end up staying here forever and I never get to tour and I'm doomed to make cartoons the rest of my life, I suppose I will make the most of it just as I have with the cobwebs and birdshit that seem to constantly cover me and my car. I will laugh and shake it off and hope there isn't some angry spider connected (and they get indiana jones big down here.) I'm feeling ok, but kinda spent, like I've seen too much death and decay, too much destruction, I've stopped feeling anything. I'm used to the gray clouds, it's this silver lining I keep hearing about that horrifies me. What will I do when there's only the sun and the swaying dandelions beneath it? xomc
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| why do fireflies have to die |
[14 Jul 2003|03:53pm] |
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today was one of those smooth days where you wake up early and actually take your time doing all things you usually cram into ten minutes. work was eezie peezie, a little editing, a little lip flap, no stress, no frustration. lunch went better. snuck in a salad in the morning so I could have the full hour to go to the bank and get my emissions tested. had a pork loin at the cafeteria, dripped some gravy on my shirt. got my new ID, snuck through the lot avoiding security so they wouldn't have a chance to cuss me out for parking in a visitor spot. the afternoon has been just like the rest. an hour to fill and I'm all done with work. maybe I should discuss how I'm doing. well... I ran out of ganj so I finally started unpacking my boxes. the bathroom, the smallest room in the joint mind ya, is done. 2000 flushes in the pot, mr. bubble waiting on deck, magazine area, medicine cabinet properly stocked. the kitchen was mildy dealt with, I just soaked the dishes that I packed dirty. geve them a day to think about what they've done. went to the grocery store bought meat, meat and more meat. saw capturing the friedmans, felt gross and yet sympathetic to all those invovled. saw the beginning of about schmidt at randy's. I left after a little bit. Snuggyville's a little tense these days. i love my apartment, but get bored quickly and have been renting like a crazy man. catch me if you can, filmed in 52 days, 52 DAYS! that fucker is too good at what he does at this point. the spy that came in from the cold, my Richard Burton phase continues. Grave of the Fireflies, only made me feel like an asshole. americans are assholes, I've come to learn. I bought Life after Death by the B.I.G. but found myself wishing I had gotten eve's album, killer mike, fabolous or hot boys. fife had a new single at the store but my needles fucked up. I like state of the art beats, the latest, the pop. speaking of, I need to get my ass in gear and finish up some songs. kinda put it off since the move and the play. got a review in the creative loafing which spelled my name: MC Chris Ward. groan. no one cares. a kid came up after the second night and wanted an autograph. he was really young and really nervous with his uncle next to him, looking at me like what's the BFD? no call from my rock star guardian angels. it's been a week and nothing. I'm just praying to god they're really busy or drunk. maybe it was a prank and the pranksters felt as though they'd gone too far. I believed them too much. I revealed my desperation, my willingness, how eager... whoops. shoulda played it like fonzi, then again, it's only been 8 days. I'm counting them like I'm waiting for the girl I like to call back. It's all kinds of fucked up. Saturday night we went dancing, my friend rene was spinning. it was fun once we got into it, before that I was about to leave after my first sip of beer. the girls were looking gooder than good and I wanted to take'm all home like little ho-kemons. one was wearing shoes that my x got far too much attention over. it almost ruined the whole night. I did make repeated eye contact with a girl wearing low riding chucks. all the girls were very indie rock and they liked doing the molly ringwald to rene's euro-mush. I think maybe I will go see rene spin more often. hopefully I won't get kicked out of the bar before he goes on like I did at the echo last week. yeesh. note to self: don't get up on the mike and bust it at a benefit for a dead dude. this week feels like it'll be long. but there's still much to do. I got to get my head out of the clouds and back on earth. I'll wake up with no record contract and no job if I don't watch out. it's difficult. too busy to be sad or lonely, but there have been times when good news has come my way recently and I had no one, like that lame comic in comedian. no one to call. maybe I should just start stapling my phone number to telephone poles. maybe I should just chill out. xomc
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| the urge to herbal |
[08 Jul 2003|04:47pm] |
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man my vida is freekin loca, f'reelzies. i had a show to do on saturday and was pacing around in my friend amber's kitchen, when my phone rang. "who? ...oh, benji, uh, h.. hey... um, whassup?" i still don't feel like it's real, i hope it is cuz I've told too many people at this point, because I'm busting off the walls, because i feel like I'm the verge of hip hop breakdown. "I wanna sign you." is all that really sticks out in my mind, everything else seems so peripheral. all the details, what's gonna happen. nothing's definite, he has to meet me, and that's got me thinking, "holy fuck, what if I'm lame?!" everything's like the high dive at this point, you either climb back down and get made fun of, or jump off scared shitless into who knows what. the play rocked, I was on fire and press was there. some dad's garage folk were more than complimentary calling it my best work on stage in the atl. I felt all powerful. was it real? only once have I had the thought: I can't do this. I can't pull this off. a big crowd, something bigger than a bar? got it would be such balls, but in a way I've trained for this my whole life, and I'm not afraid to try and try my damnest at that. I looked at my apartment the other day, while lying on the sofa in the middle of the room trying to get to sleep. mc chris bought me this new apartment. it was money from those sales that did it. if the music could house me, it could support me, feed me, keep me alive. could i do just that? hell yeah. will there problems, yes. i only have to really worry about me and how good my lyrics are. i have to get to nyc to record and whatever I say into that mike best be gold. will it be there behind the glass, the young rock star, nodding, holding his chin, thinking make money money, make money money money. i better sign this fucker before someone else figures it out. i don't know. it's time to step up to the plate. i just pray to god it's not a prank or a joke or something that wasn't meant to pan out. something that's just supposed to make me work harder, concentrate more, belittle what we've done less. my head's buzzin like a beehive. cough up my cookies let loose what's on the inside. xomc
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| good pressure |
[02 Jul 2003|10:57am] |
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the rain has let up some. there were two days where it just came down nonstop, I was getting soaked cuz I had no car and atlanta turns into a white water rafting adventure during some of these crazy jungle monsoons. it's hard to cross the street cuz every corner has turned into a whirlpool of cess, I saw a giant tree branch floating down the street the other day. we've had much more rain than we need, but I've been told there's been a drouhgt here for the past few years, so it's a welcome sight. this place is truly greener than green. you can't help but be overwhlemed by all the fauna cascading over every still surface, especially if you're coming from manhattan, where there's only one tree and it's in brooklyn. there's been play rehearsals all week and I'm beyond bushed. I was able to take my first hot shower in my own home in a month. I love my new tub. It's huge, definitely could fit two, but bottom line is that it's clean and it can fit me, so I predict some soothing bubble baths in my future. and what better time than when it's pouring puppies right outside your window. non stop rain kinda stones me like npr or a baseball game on the radio, makes me wanna sip tea all day, read love letters from long time past, fall asleep with my nose in a newspaper fold. haven't hooked up my cable cuz it's in my bedroom, so I'll need to take a little trip to radio shack. no tv is fine, I'm not missing much except real world and osbournes, but I don't have those channels anyhow. I'm poor today but I'll be swell tomorrow and then I finally have a day off to unpack my boxes and find everything that is lost to me now. like my work ID. john's been sending me music and it all sounds cool. we definitely are video game hip hop, it's like I'm rapping from inside the donkey kong universe. I need a good game to play to get my mind off what a crazy summer this is going to be. I've got this play all month and all this writing to do. It's good that I'll be busy, but part of me wants nothing to be going on, so I can possibly go on a date or two, if there was anyone to ask that is. I think I'm ready for a little lovin. I've crazy glued up my heart and am ready to ease into hitting on chicks with abandon. and I feel like I have this new body to wreak havoc with, everyone's commenting on how little I've become, and that gets me thinking that as soon as I wanna try I will most likely be able to succeed, given my new lvel of confidence. We'll just have to see. And there are so many pictures to take in as well. I'll be pissed if I miss Winged Migration, Capturing the Friedmans or 28 Days Later, even Charlie's angels. You miss one weekend in the summer and everything's all out of whack. so now it's july and on friday there's various kinds of fire being bandied about, I have no plans, no party to attend. there's so much to do that day, I hope I remember to stop unpacking and go get wasted. xomc
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| shitstorm 2000 |
[30 Jun 2003|03:05pm] |
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my ankles are buckling, i feel really tired and wish I had a day to do nothing but sleep. the dba show was much like it was when I used to live with them, except this time there were lights and new songs and bubbles and smoke. dan was still dan, jeanie was kinda invigorated by her new lease on life and adam had seemed to come into his own, finally comfortable in his own skin. the show was short, it was an underage venue, complete with constant reminders that there was no re-entry, 14 year olds with thong underwear, and everyone avoiding the area directly in front of the stage. afterwards there was beer and smokes at some lawyer's house. everyone was reading zines and nobody was getting too drunk, jeanie talked to her new boyfriend back home then curled up on the couch to ease into sleep. mike was still eager to make music together and there's a very good chance that'll happen if I get to go home. overall it was great to see them, tell them all my good news. they seemed okay but the frustration of going unnoticed by the general public seemed to be wearing a little thin. it seemed like they were really ready for the next level. that night I got pulled over coming home by the cops. I was sure I was gonna get my atl badge of honor, the dooey or DUI. I had no tag and a learner's permit with no one else in the car. I told the cop I was the voice of Dexter on Dexter's Lab, did a quick imitation, "Yoo are Stoopid." and he let me go. I'm a good liar. the next day was moving. dad and I had breakfast at the majestic diner, and I had whatever I wanted. meaning it was my first bacon and egg sandwhich in a month. my first slice of bread in a month. dad and I got a lot done before anyone arrived. I was relieved when he said he thought I was moving into a nicer place. they redid the entire kitchen as well as the bathroom. by the time noon rolled around and everyone started showing up, things started to really cook. there were four cars shuttling stuff back and forth and it only took us about an hour. my boss, pete, showed up with his truck after moving his son back into the house all morning. we moved the couch and the mattresses and the heavy bookcase and then were pretty much done. dad took us all to el myr to eat tacos and the like. everyone got along swimmingly. my dad thankfully liked my friends, despite one having a mohawk, and them all generally being weirdos. after that we all split up and passed out. I woke up at about 11:45 pm and drove over to dad's garage for their eighth birthday party. everyone was given awards and one friend, a guy that helped move, quit the theater during his acceptance speech. it became highly debated and discussed and there were circles of bowed heads whispering and crying. ahhh... theater companies are always rich with drama, or I should say, melodrama. that just all seems so high school to me. I hung out with my friend mary, the only funny girl I know. (well, emily's pretty good for a hoot.) but nothing like mary. if mary weren't taken and six years older, I'd be hittin on her like she was a jukebox and I was the fonz. I guess I was. she's just about the only soul on the premises I could stand. I like having crushes, even if they're unrequited because, at least you have a better idea of what you like. I like a girl to have a sense of humor and that most definitely does not mean being "on" all the time. she's gotta be smart and I guess conservative. but eager to sneak behind the house to smoke. sunday dad took me to the mall and he got me some shorts and a belt and some socks and underwears, all of which I needed badly. the good news was that my waist was two inches slimmer than before. I got a scale and discovered I had lost about twenty pounds in a month. psycho killa. then dad and I worked on the apt a little more, scrubbing and cleaning the little five filth off every surface. we went to dinner where I had big plate of pasta, the first in a month. it didn't even taste good. I think I'm over pasta. my love affair with starch has ended. we split up and hugged goodbye, exchanged I love you's. I told him about good charlotte, how I thought it might evolve into something big. he said he had been waiting my whole life for me to do something really huge, knowing that it would happen at some point. quite the confidence builder. the shitty thing that happend this weekend is that I lost my car keys. somewhere in the ten feet between my car and my front door I dropped my keys and some homeless guy going through the discarded furniture in the dumpster, picked'm up and slipped a 20$ ransom note under the windshield wiper. now, we're not dealing with a bright man here because first and foremost, he didn't steal my car and didn't rifle through my bag in the back seat. instead he said bring 20$ to the exxon down the street. no one there knew what I was talking about. we called the cops. there was nothing they could do. so now I must wait a week till I get paid so I can get new keys made for 90$. hopefully he won't have the bright idea of driving my little car away. the other kinda bum out was benji had written again from tour asking me to open for a band in DC in august after he got off tour, so he could see me. I have no live show, and there's no time to rehearse or way to, given john's and my distance from eachother. so we'll just have to see what we can pull off. I invited him to our record in august. I'd rather he come see that then seeing me do some half assed karaoke show with a cd player ala atom and his package. I've got to write a whole album and be in a play this july. I feel like there will be time for little else. especially creating and preparing for a live show. I worry that that I'm snoozing on this huge window of opportunity. dba's dying for a chance like that and they could pull it off. adam implored me to figure out a way to do it as did my boss at work. I don't know what I'm gonna do. it's going to rain all week and I have no car, all my shits in boxes. I'm still not out of the jungle, the tendrils have got my ankles and they're pulling me backward, I can see so many things lurking in the distance in front of me. I just got to get work with this here machete and chop chop my way to greener pastures. xomc
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| crazy in love |
[26 Jun 2003|12:07pm] |
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my head is fried. beyond fried. dba and my dad are both coming into town tomorrow night. and I'm moving the next day. I really haven't done much packing during the week because of rehearsal's for the kobe bryant project and free parking. free parking was last night, it's a sketch show and I decided to just go out and have a good time, toss back a couple of ultras and wait for no buzz to happen. did karaoke. rapped over safety dance and the place went apeshit, dj bought me a shot and all the girls said that they were in love with me. makes me feel like I could do shows, could go on tour. I just don't know because I haven't tried. but the audience was so accepting it made me wonder how the rest of the country would take me. benji wrote again from germany. said he wanted to get support behind me and make mc chris a full time gig for me. it all sounds so perfect, I can only wait and see what unfolds. to add to stress, I've been editing a brak show all week. that's where I do all the button pushing while my boss taps my shoulder from behind. it can drive you crazy, but only because it's not a very creative endeavor. I'm kinda just a monkey doin monkey work. makes me have crazy suerstar fantasies all day long. and I've got this car that has been driving me crazy. it won't start sometimes. and it's already been sold to me lock stock and barrel. so it's kinda my problem if it doesn't work. it's my lemon now. I'm getting a guy to look at it this weekend. he's one of those friend of a friend mechanics that doesn't have a garage and doesn't lie or charge hardly anything. cool dude. and his pretty freckled wife shoos away mosquitoes while his blue rubber gloves dig into my engine. when the car gets going though and the windows go down and beyonce goes up and the atlanta airs wraps around me like cotton candy... when it's all worth it, it's a dream, a sweet ass dream. I'd like to take a vacation, not from doing stuff, I do that already, I mean from worrying. A vacation from bills and dmv's and leases and cartoons and money. just go on a drive to some random wildlife preserve. smoke a big fat louisville slugger and just lie back with the daisies tickling my ears. I'm so exhausted, so spent. next week, there's kobe bryant rehearsal all week and then the show on saturday. and then there's the birthday of this lousy country to celebrate. I look forward to my new apartment and its shower. it's like I've emerged from the jungle thick with dirt and cobwebs caked all over my tired body. the jungle goes down the drain and I'm all clean and spiffy. I can see it. last night everyone commented on how skinny I was because I had to tuck my shirt in for this one vaudeville sketch I did. I caught myself looking in the mirror pressing my hands flat against my new streamlined stomach. something in me is about to burst. I really do feel like I could be something great. only time will tell the tale. xomc
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| come with me |
[20 Jun 2003|10:19am] |
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life is getting weird. reality tv sweepstakes weird. benji just wrote me from germany. He said he wanted to get involved and help out. I'm so speechless, all I can say in my head is, "practical joke, practical joke, practical joke, practical joke." But he and his brother keep assuring me that it's not. i don't know what this means, but if it means I can fly back to new york and quit my job and make an album and then tour to support it, well then, shit! I don't know what to think. Something in me feel the tremors of success looming in the darkness. I just can't believe it. And this of course is happening as a I sign a lease and pick up my new car. I get it today. I'll be mobile for the first time in a year. I was on the marta and I realized I might not have to look at another sad black kid in a cheep busted up stroller for who knows how long. Life is or the threat of life is making my head swim. can you imagine seeing me on tv? not just hearing me, seeing me, surrounded by flash pods with the vegas fountain erupting behind me, dancing girls, rims. I can. I can see it all now... xomc
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| pick yourself up and try it again |
[19 Jun 2003|01:11pm] |
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My new thing is the angry young man era. Michael Caine imparticular. We tried to watch "Get Carter" last night but it just moved too slowly. I'm more into "Look back in anger" and "Alfie." they'll destroy your sex drive. which is just what I needed. I like the way they're shot, the corny compositions. When did filmmaking die? Everything that's modern has somehow shed it's coolness. sure there are exceptions but the eightie's made us lame aesthetically and the nineties almost killed the notion that american was style and design mecca. I cut off my cable. which is funny given that I work for a cable network. but I needed to cut costs. so now I rent. And you gotta love tuesdays, dollar per vid. I'm renting mainly classics and some miyazaki, some happy maddison movies just for shits and well, just for shits. I forked over five c-notes to urban environments for my new place. well, as an application. I find out today or tomorrow if I actually can get into my new rat trap. all indications point to yes. my dad just informed me he won't be coming down until that sunday which doesn't sound like it'll work. I have rehearsal that day. I was lookin forward to him meeting everyone on saturday when everyone's out, in a good mood, rather than sunday, wehn everyone's repenting their past transgressions. ahhh... it's boring. tomorrow I pick up my car finally. and then I'll be driving all weekend. endlessly over the hills, through the crannies and nooks of the atl. I can't wait to take a shower in my new place. i guess that's what I'm looking forward to most. being clean, in a clean place. this weekend, I pack. bowls and boxes. and there's the hulk... yes, the hulk. and that will be awesome, I know it, because ang lee can do no wrong in my eyes. things are definitely coming up roses, folks. cut to me on the phone being told that my credit isn't good enough to rent a rat trap. sadly begin credits. xomc
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| and the horses wonder who you are |
[18 Jun 2003|12:10pm] |
do you like good charlotte? well, apparently they like us, or at least one of those twin guys does. their brother wrote a fanmail hoping to get in contact with me. i think it's funny that people cannot comprehend that john and I do not have a staff and that we do all this stuff ourselves. i guess josh, their brother, slipped a cd into his cd book and within twenty minutes he had gotten his hands on it and was an insta-fan (he's a star wars geek, i guess.) so now i guess what's gonna happen is that I'm gonna get a call from one of the good charlotte twins about maybe getting signed to epitaph? i dunno. sounds too good to be true. this is what josh made it sound like. and there's the possibility that that he might be lying (a really good good charlotte fan would know everything he had said, like a show on mtv or a trip to europe.) or that his brother's just a fan and wants a shirt. or there's the possibility that I was right to not be able to sleep last night after reading his email. that maybe I can throw down these dirty south shackles and just make music all the time. I had every kind of fantasy from buying my boss at sealab a car, to paying all 6 mos. rent at once so I could chill in atlanta when nyc was just getting to be too much. then came the groupie fantasies and the tour bus fantasies. meeting that one girl in the corduroy coat with the patches on the elbows up at harvard. the the way the snow got caught in her cornsilk hair. the way it kept getting caught on her wet lips:
GIRL: but you can't go mc, we've only made love like a billion times.
mc: I've got to go, there's a benefit concert in Japan, they need me, those orphans are still frickin on fire. I've got to totally save them. I promise I'll call.
GIRL: No you won't! You're just like all the rest. Why am I so completely attracted to you and wanna have sex with you all the frickin time?
mc: I dunno. I'm just working with my kick ass rap star skills that a god I don't even believe in gave me, just cuz I'm that awesome. Late babe, one for the road?
GIRL: I won't settle for just a kiss.
mc: Alright, you seem like you're gonna go insane unless I lay it down one more time. I'm totally gonna carry you to the stables and make crazy forbidden love on you in the hay. Oh be sure, little girl, that turtleneck is coming off. And then it's to Japan to save the orphans that are totally still on fire.
GIRL: I want third degree burns like they got.
mc: I think I can fill that order. To the stables!
xomc
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| that creepy amulet found beneath the floorboards |
[17 Jun 2003|03:20pm] |
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I think I might sign a lease today. The place looks pretty shitty from the outside. David Lynch wouldn't even film his exteriors there. Too drab for even him. And I caught him sizing the place up with that zoom lens thingy, and he was like, "No siree betty, not gonna do the trick. we need a place with more zip!" The color is like faded yellow with the paint chipping, although in memory I see pink, a dark weathered pink. It's on the first floor, big selling point. no more stairs. no more puking on stairs. no more being around puke stain on stairs that i never told anyone about, I'm sure though, that everyone guessed the secret behind the dark patch of carpet right by the door. The main room where the living is done, is huge, big selling point. I could split it into two rooms, one part office, one part "let's make out here." the bed room's a nice size and the the bathrooms is clean and has new fixtures. the kitchen is one of those hot pocket kitchens where that's all you'll be making. the stove is the size of a tic tac container and there's no room to breakdance, which is how i like my kitchens. lots of closet space for me to hide mistresses in. it's a chateau beyond compare and i can't wait to not climb up that hill or hear those birds, or see those roaches, feel them descending down my tongue in whisky fueled nightmares. no, that's all over. now i just have to deal with the reactions of my friends who, I have a feeling, will nod a lot before they say, "it's nice for one person." xomc
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