Why is it I always end up with some kind of crazy story when I go to the airport? I don't do anything that would cause wacky events to ensue...but they do. Oh they do. But first...

There are two types of bands. Those that just get louder when heard in concert, and those like Tool. And that's just who I saw in concert at Long Beach on the 24th. Not only was the music impressive...it was infinitely better than their CDs...which are amazing in the first place. In other words, to fully appreciate this band, you must see them in concert. Maybe they'll even be touring with Meshuggah again...the band who's lead singer -for the last two songs- flailed around on stage in a tiny black thong. Just be sure that when you illegally pull into a small driveway and put on your hazard lights so you can go around the corner to the bank that when you leave you pull across the lanes of oncoming traffic instead of flying down the wrong lane for a good fifty yards.

And speaking of bands...Breakfast Epiphanies had their first real concert at Hogue Barmichaels last night. Sure we got shafted on the time we were supposed to play. And sure most everyone left by the time we played. But it was amazing. I'll never get over the incredible rush you get when you stand on stage and play with a band. And we're doing it again on the 8th of December. I'll post some pictures of this last show soon.

On to the airport shenanigans (wow that word is fun to write). I decided that I needed some food since a bagel and some cereal isn't enough nourishment for an entire day. Now keep in mind that all the activities I was participating in were at least twice as hard as usual because of the state of exhaustion I was in and still am in as I write. (that means if I make horrid grammar mistakes...I blame it on the drugs...er...I mean sleep deprivation) So I was sitting there dipping my greasy fries into my barbecue sauce when I upend the entire thing onto my lap. I grab for a napkin, but McDonalds doesn't like giving their customers napkins. They might love to see you smile, but they love it even more if that smile is accompanied by a big friggin red stain on your crotch. So I was ripping parts of the bag off to try and wipe some flavorful goodness off of my pants and people started to look over at me. I hurriedly grabbed my jacket, draped it over my crotch, and jogged to the bathroom. Luckily there was some guy with a baby sitting across from me who watched my bag. After I got back with a large wet spot on my pants this baby took a liking to me. Have I ever mentioned how much babies like me? I'm sure they're just thinking, "Gosh...that guy looks weird...let's go have a closer look shall we?" But this baby was no different. Every time the guy would put her down, she would speed crawl straight at me...stop...and stare right in my eyes. This happened about ten times. Then she tried to eat my cell phone.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired? Yeah? I should probably do something about that. You know...since I've slept all of 5 hours in the last three days. It gets to you, ya know? So I'm uh...gonna go to bed. If you don't mind. Oh, you do? Ok, I'll just stay awake another couple days. I'll be fine.

It seems that someone has secretly conditioned me with Pavlovian methods. I'm just walking along, doing something or other, when out of the blue I really have to pee. Like really really. And it always seems to be at certain times...like when I'm entering my dorm room. And the only explanation I can come up with is some kind of visual or auditory conditioning. You know...like Pavlov’s dogs that would salivate when he rang a bell. Only it's not dogs, it's me, and I'm not salivating, I'm having to pee, and I'm not hearing a bell, I'm...well...that's the problem. I'm not sure what it is that must be triggering these intense desires to pee. If desire is in fact that correct word. It's more of a need. And this leads to another oddity. Where does it come from? No, not the desire/need...I'm talking about the urine. I promise you I don't drink as much liquid as what comes out of me in a day. Right...this just got kind of gross...my apologies...but I'm continuing anyway. We'll use today for example. Today I drank a Jamba Juice, a glass of water, and a small cup of coffee. What is that...35 fluid ounces? Sure. And how many times did I urinate? Um...allot. Ok, so this isn't a very statistic filled analysis...you'll just have to take my word for it. And believe me it's slightly unnerving when you seem to be pouring out liquid that you didn't put in. So as I see it I have a couple options here. I can: 1) get one of those things that you wear that you hook up to yourself so you just go when you have to and it goes into a little plastic baggy 2) wear headphones all day to block out any sound, and look at the ground as much as possible or 3) stop drinking any liquids. I think I'll go with three.

Another reason I know that movies aren't real:

I looked like I was going bald. That's what happens when you have really blonde hair and you dye it black. The roots grow in and kind of match your scalp, so you end up looking like those kind of creepy guys without allot of hair in the middle so they grow allot on the side and comb it over the balding part. And sometimes they grow a ponytail too to compensate...which adds quite a bit to the creepiness factor if I do say so myself. This is a bad thing if you haven't already figured that out. The best part is the fact that the blonde starts to show through on the upper back part of the head, making it look like a yamaka. I didn't want a yamaka. This led me to the decision to bleach my hair. Now if any of you guys out there want to feel really dumb, decide to bleach or color your hair and do it at a salon. Seriously. You'll feel dumb. Trust me. First you have to call and make an appointment. Then you will have to end up telling someone that you can't do something because of your "hair appointment" which you cannot say and sound masculine. I promise. So I sit down and this girl cuts my hair, goops on some bleach stuff, puts a plastic bag over my head, and leads me across the room. This is where it really starts to get embarrassing. You know when you see movies about hair salons how you always see about eight or nine women sitting in chairs with those helmet type things over their heads? That is what I was being led to. A single chair with a little bowl thing on a hinge. So I'm sitting there by myself with this thing drying my freshly bleach coated head...and it stings. Allot. Like a whole lot. Then the process has to happen again because after one bleaching my head looks like an orangecicle. So she goops more stuff onto my head, puts another baggy on, and leads me back to the chair. Once more...burning...lots of burning. Then she has to wash out the bleach, and was using cold water...which felt how water tastes when you are dying of thirst. It felt wonderful. But then she wanted to check the color, so she uses her friggin' huge nails and scrapes them along my scalp. Imagine having a sunburn that borders on blistering, and then someone scraping their nails across your sunburn. It's not a happy feeling. But I guess my point is that when you are in one of those helmet chairs, there is air blowing really hard onto your head and it's really loud. I was being asked questions from one foot away and couldn't hear anything. But in those movies, all those women sit there and gossip...talking quietly. I promise you it wouldn't work. Movies are so fake.

Before I begin I would like to ask about a phrase. Or more so a word. Or more so a phrase that involves a specific word. That word being 'said.' Alright, I guess an example is in order. Let's say I'm talking about a certain shirt I own and how much I like it. Then say I'm talking about a certain hat I own and how I like it just as much as said shirt. Have you heard of that before? Using 'said' to talk about a previous subject? I've known about this for a long time, but I guess allot of other people have not.

Since I'm asking questions now, how about I ask another one? How much do you know about puncture wounds? Well I learned all about them very recently. I was standing there looking at this guy who had his ears stretched so far around these wooden hoops that I could fit three fingers through them. He also had a 'collar' of tattoos around his neck. He led me to a small room that smelled like a hospital. He then took a three inch long, 12 gauge tube, and placed the tip of it against my eyebrow. I heard a hollow pop and felt cold metal sliding through the skin. A barbell was placed in the top of this miniature straw, and the straw was pulled the rest of the way through my eyebrow, leaving just the barbell.

I had no problem with any of this. It felt kind of like a paper-cut. But this didn't stop me from nearly fainting. I've explained my needle phobia before, and this was no different. A good five minutes after the piercing was complete I felt the surge of warmth flow through my body. That's about the same time I saw the little black specks enter into my vision. That's about the same time as my knees went weak and all I could hear was a throbbing pulsating sound and the sweat broke out all over my body. I said something like, "I uh...don't feel so good." The guy said something like, "You're gonna fall over," and he moved behind me and put one arm under each of my armpits. Next I was being held up completely by this guy as I tried my best to stand. My attempts proved very futile. My eyes were wide open but all I could see was black. I had a piece of paper in my hand and Naomi pried open my hand and took the paper, but I don't remember this in the least.

Maybe I'm anemic.

So yeah...I now have a piece of metal through my eyebrow.

So the other night I was laying in bed bleeding, but I wasn't thinking about the blood, I was thinking about my left pinky toe that felt very broken. I was thinking to myself, "how did I end up in this place?" No, not that exact place --bleeding and feeling broken-- all that took was walking across a very crowded floor without my contacts on; I'm talking about that exact place in life. As in, what are the chances that I ended up in the place I am in today? All it would have taken to change it all would be some great grandparent doing one small action differently than they did...and just like that maybe I'm in New York, studying medicine, addicted to MDMA. Or maybe I don't exist at all. And for all I know, the fact that my foot feels broken might change the path I would have walked today which could change my entire life. What I eat for lunch could effect who I'm going to marry. What I score on my test today could effect how long I live. It's amazing that I don't lock myself in a little room and hide from the world.

click HERE

I went to see Glassjaw at the Glasshouse last night. And it just plain rocked. (no pun intended (or did you not think there was a pun intended and now you're going to go back and look at what I wrote and see that it could have been meant as a really cheesy pun and laugh at me?)) Riiiiight.

The first band was best described by Naomi as "gay euro-trash." There were two lead singers (both with identical high-pitched screaming voices) who seemed to enjoy flailing about in a very feminine manner. This seemed a very odd contrast with the hard rock music. Hard rock music that had no melody mind you. During their five or six song set I never once heard a distinct melody squeeze through the screaming and distortion.

Glassjaw was by far the best. Their lead singer is (once more quoting) "a little spaz." And that's just what he is. He's this tiny little angry guy who jumps around stage and is incredibly entertaining. The only downside to their set...a light set up slightly behind the drummer. It was this little light that rotated back and forth and would turn on randomly through the songs. And my gosh this thing put the sun to shame. I mean...sunglasses would do you no good if you were faced with this evil demon of light. As it would face away from us you could see this huge beam of light reflecting off the sporadic puffs of marijuana smoke and hitting the back wall of the venue. The Army needs to forget about guns when fighting at night...they just need a bunch of these lights and they could easily blind the enemy and render them harmless. But despite the lead singer being sick, and despite my corneas being fried, the show was absolutely amazing.

Maybe next time I'll join in the moshing and crowd surfing.

And maybe I'll come home with a couple broken bones too.