My sister is going to be here tomorrow night.

Fuck yeah!

That is all.

The real way to play the little solo in Mick's Initials BB:

----------------------
----------------------
--------3-------------
------5---------------
--1-5-----6-5---------
3-------------3-1-3---

----------------------
----------------------
--------3-------------
------5---------------
--1-5-----6-8-1-0-1---
3---------------------

Now I must get back to painting Sinead O'Connor and Shane MacGowan from the Haunted video.

A revelation: nobody likes to feel vulnerable, but I avoid it like wild animals will avoid captivity by gnawing off their own legs to get away. Not so healthy. Have to work on this.

I'm kind of tired of waking up at 1 PM feeling more exhausted than I did when I fell asleep at 4 AM. I'm also kind of tired of not having the emotional life to leave my bed or eat food and wasting away to below 90lbs again. Also, really really tired of gripping, jittery anxiety over no apparent thing that's as present as it was before I started taking SSRI's. As much as I'd love to make the drug companies their happy dollar, I'm pretty sure Prozac is doing nothing for me that I can't do several times more effectively for myself. I'm better off keeping a comforting CD on repeat every twelve hours as needed.

And when I say comforting, I mean inspiring and brilliant and makes me want to throw my head into the wall and create a great masterpiece all at the same time. But comfort is a subjective thing, isn't it?

So less about me and more about the LJ friends. What are your comfort CDs?

This is not being inquisitive. This is being a rude fuckhead at the expense of others' just to get your kicks.

If I seem a little too ticked off by Anonymous Rude Fuckhead and like I'm expending a little too much time and energy to their obvious attempts to rile me up: it's for a deeper issue. As you might've guessed.
I don't care that Anonymous Rude Fuckhead (ARF) pissed all over my post that I spent some good hours putting together. What gets me is the general being a bully under the guise of cowardice at other people's expense (those comments had nothing to do with intelligently exchanging thoughts on copyright concerns). The Internet is crawling with this, because that's what it is. One huge platform to get up on and still hide behind a screen.
Thousands of people (probably more than that) dabble in icon-making and come away from it with some knowledge under their belts about working graphic design programs, using color schemes and aesthetics, and designing an overall image with one theme. This is what got me into using Paint Shop Pro and Photoshop, and has ultimately had a ripple effect on my involvement in art. It's a precursor for a lot of people to go on to build their skills and do some really cool shit. I see ARF's way too much, pissing all over people with more visible potential than me, and less word-prowess and ability to let anonymous rude fuckheadery slide off of them.

It's not fucking cool. Being a spirit-crushing cockhole does not make you teh lord ov teh Interntz. It makes you a dick with nothing better to do than watch other people do something with themselves and then find some way to make them feel like shit for it. Don't ever underestimate the sensitivity of the creative and how easy it is to fucking steam-roller flatten them and take something good out of the world. This overreaction is probably just me wishing I could knock the teeth out of the people who do this constantly to others less headstrong than myself for fun like it's nothing.



Would somebody just put a dick in this guy's mouth, please? Cause that's what he wants. He's a cocksucker in disguise. He's got his mouth open 'cause he wants someone to cum in it.


EDIT: I'm kind of neurotic today, sorry about all that.

I have this strong repellent fear of my bedroom right now for no reason. Felt another panic episode coming on this evening, tried counting backwards by different increments of numbers, listening to music, but those things didn't help, so I took half a Clonazepam. I feel fucked up and tired now.

Was talking to Jeff, figuring out how to play Room Of Angel on guitar so I could play it on virtual keyboard. Now I'm alone sitting in the basement staring at my laptop. Don't know what to do, so I tabbed the notes.

This is the first part. I don't know what you would call it in piano jargon, but it's what's going on with the one hand lower down on the keys. I finger pick it 'cause it sounds more like the piano notes.

-----
-----
--5--
-5-5-
-666-
8----

Basically, C D#+G then D#+higher C then back to D#+G

Then the same 1234 type riff keeps going down further

-----
-----
-----
--8--
-8-8-
6----

A# F higher A# F

-----
-----
-----
--5--
-5-5-
3----

G D higher G D

And then there's this sorta melody that changes (this is what I guess the hand further up is playing), which I'm probably not playing in the right place on the neck, but the notes are correct anyway:

-10--11-10-11-10-8
8-----------------
------------------
------------------
------------------
------------------

G D D# D D# D C

That's as far as I got tonight. I think there are notes missing from the riff going down the neck (I strum two strings at a time in the first one, but not the second two), but I'm too sleepy to figure it out now.

I don't listen to music in the background while I do things. I do things in the background while I listen to music.

When are we?

Broken people are like roaches. They're festering, insectile carcasses trapped in the muck of their own sticky-paper-trap misery, and they want to will you on to join them in the muck of putrid adhesive shit. They're too weak to bear the pain and break away, so they just rot there. They never worn their brethren about it, because they need you to be trapped with them so they don't decay alone in the adhering misery. You gotta rip a few antennae to get away once they get you there, but it's worth it to not be a part of a big festering strip of roach carcasses. Getting away hurts like fuck, but the appendages grow back. I promise!

May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house.

This is the dramatization of the inner battle of good and evil forces in my brain. Henry Rollins is my angel, and deformed murderous inbred freak is my devil. Good is kickin' ass and takin' names.

I have never before been criticized to the extent I just was for being OVER informative. That people see the investment of some minutes traded-off for knowledge as being a loss has caused both of my cerebral hemispheres to self-terminate out of disillusionment. I should be losing the ability to form and understand speech and language in a couple seconds. must hit post to journal before brain dieisisssemskjnfkshf223ghj9ioi87




EDIT: To keep from psychotic, violent urges, I figured out how to play Danny Elfman's Sally's Song on piano... without physically touching one! Here: play e g a b e g e f f a b c1 a g# d# e g# b c1 d1 g a b a a a b c1 a g# d# e g# b c1 d1 g a b a a b c1 c1 b f# g a a g c1 a f e e d# e f# g e e d# e f# g e
To make it easier: e (I) g (sense) a (there's) b (some) e (thing) g (in) e (the) f (wind) etc...
I like this one better, but it's hard to explain how to play it for anybody else with the keys not being marked.

I don't watch much television or listen to the radio, so I have no idea about what's going on in the world of popular music right now up on the surface. I've dug myself a hole to live in and furnished it in only what I deem positive for my mental health. All I know of that's going on up there are a few things that are abhorrent enough to circulate back to me through the sources I rely on (I'm not gonna name names; that's unnecessary and beside my point).

I was just on YouTube revisiting the years of my mom's aggressive pop CDs when we moved into the townhouse after my dad's death, and a question struck me in the middle of Pink's "Family Portrait". Who are the female role models now in pop music? Is there anyone left up there demonstrating that music that makes you feel or think in some way doesn't have to come from an all male indie-pop group or acoustic solo artist? I feel like we're losing so many potential great intellects to mind erasing conditioning. I'm not a very sympathetic or altruistic person, but I like art, and art comes from people, so I've got to be concerned here at some point.

The last time I surfaced to check things out, for female figures, we were still stuck in the mindset of strong sexuality being linked with the strong individual. Women who knew they were adored by men and could use them were the stars of the show (faux feminist double standards, hooray). If you wanted something a little less sexual, you could listen to the acoustic or electro songs about if he leaves me I'll just die, or he left me and I'm just going to die, etc.. It seems like for a little while, though, we had a handful of icons who had a certain fancy to express themselves in notable ways time and again. Pink, for example, at least made an effort to do something expressive and different sandwiched between her standard stuff. I think for mass-produced pop music (which obviously can't be too enlightening as a rule), she went a good deal more than business-necessary over the ever lowering bar. That's cool enough in my book of low expectations.

My question is (to whoever reads my driveling, brain vomit here), who is doing this now? Is there anyone? Are we going backwards up there on the surface still? And I'm talking about the top of the charts pop music deal, like Christina Aguilera performing "Beautiful" (I say performing because she did not write the song), not the good things from respectable people that leak their way in. You gotta help me out, because I'm stuck down here. I threw away my latter to peek out on my own years ago out of disillusionment. I don't want to come up, just want a visual of the war-field. (;

I CAN'T DIE HAPPY UNTIL I CAN DO THIS:



I am so fucking serious. I'm going to get a used keyboard and teach myself at the end of this year or the start of next. I can play the breakfast machine part (starts at 0:58) on guitar, and it makes me wanna die of happiness every time I do it. It's like getting stoned off of music. I can't even explain it, it's such a cool feeling. I learned the Beetlejuice theme too, and Sally's Song. Being able to play them on the original piano would just make my heart implode (in the best of ways).

Commencing attempts to learn to read sheet music now.

I just got back from the Manson show, and Oh. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. MANSON/TWIGGY KISS MADE MY WEEK.
(but I'm not a fangirl, okay?)

He did NOT play I Don't Like The Drugs, but he DID play Rock'N'Roll Nigger, and I died of joy, and then rose up through the healing mojo voodoo magic of Patti Smith, and then died again afterward of exhaustion. And of course rose again for the next song after clutching myself and gulping in air like a parched desert wanderer at a watering hole or some shit like that.

I was disgusted, furious, and distraught last night (to name a few adjectives). I wanted to punch my walls and smash my head into things (even after punishing myself at the gym) but I like my walls and I decided it would be in everyone's best interest for me to relieve my frustrations at the show. And indeed I did. I went insane, and then doubly insane for Jeff since he couldn't be there. I was ready to pass out from dehydration halfway into the setlist. After it was over I pretty much zombie walked to the car powered on nothing other than the knowledge of there being bottled water inside.

I am dead. Time for burial in blankets. I'll be back in the morning. But on a last note, my mom and I saw a drunk guy truly zombie-walking across the street into a(nother) bar a couple minutes from here on the way home. He looked like he belonged in the Thriller music video. We felt bad but we both had to laugh.

LAST last note: the opening band was complete shit. I could be mistaken, but every other song was screaming the words devil or slut. I didn't clap for them at all, which is unlike me (I usually am nice to opening bands even if I dislike them). I sneered and stood still. They blew so much I forgot they played.

I feel like Dr. House in that episode where he realizes that the really hot CIA girl he hired is a fucking dumbass, but he needs Wilson to confirm it to him before he gets his shit together and fires that stupid bitch.

Maybe I'm the last person on the planet, but I find unconditional love very fucking boring. My affection is conditional because I find weakness boring and the constant drive to better oneself and be something more than a petty, mundane, need-fulfilling carcass admirable.

Warning(s): expectations of your fellow human may cause nausea, independent thought, misanthropy, creative expression, feelings detachment from the third shopping mall from the sun, feelings of isolation, anti-social behavior, ill will towards human kind, violent urges, and suicidal urges.

Thank you for helping me
Thank you for breaking my heart
Thank you for tearing me apart
Now I've a strong strong heart
Thank you for breaking my heart

Is anybody else watching the second season of Sons Of Anarchy with no previous knowledge of the show just because Henry Rollins is in it?

Want new music. Post me anything and I'll check it out. Don't care if it's ten YouTube vidoes in a row. Share with me.

Faint Heart (Birthday Party)

-------------------------
--10--9-10-9--8-9-8--7---
7----------------------7~
-------------------------
-------------------------
-------------------------

-----------10-10-10------
10-10-10-----------------
9--9--9------------------
-------------------------
-------------------------
-------------------------

(the last notes you don't actually hit three times so much as move the pick up and down like crazy for the three beats, but I can't count fast enough to know how many times that is)


Deep In The Woods (Birthday Party)

------------------------------
------------------------------
------------------------------
------------------------------
--2--2-1--1------------------2
2-----------2--2-5--5-1--1-2--

---------4--------------------
---------5--------------------
-9-8-7-6-6--------------------
-9-8-7-6-6--------------------
-7-6-5-4-4--------------------
---------4--------------------


Mother Of Earth (Gun Club) (Rowland's version is the same basically but with a capo on the 2nd fret)

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
---0-2--2/4-2-0-2------------
-2---------------------------
-----------------------------

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
---0-2--2/4-2-0--------------
-2---------------------------
-----------------------------

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
---0-2--2/4-2-0-2------------
-2---------------------------
-----------------------------

G Em
----------3--------0---------
----------3--------0---------
----------0------------------
-----------------------------
--------2--------2-----------
-0-2-3------2-0--------------

G Em
----------3--------0---------
----------3--------0---------
----------0------------------
-----------------------------
--------2--------2-----------
---2-3------2-0--------------

A / Em etc.

(OR you can play the riff this way, which is the correct way judging from live videos, but the box formation above is what I need to work on

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-2--5-7--7/9-7-5-7-----------
-----------------------------



In My Time Of Dying (Lydia Lunch & Rowland S. Howard)


2----0--0----0--2----0--0----
2----0--0----0--2----0--0----
2-------0-------2-------0----
4-------4-------4-------4----
4--4----4--4----4--4----4----
2-------2-------2-------2----
repeat, etc

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
---4-------------------------
-----2-4--3-2-0--------------
-2---------------------------

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-----------------------------
---4-------------------------
-----2-4---------------------
-2---------------------------

-----------------------------
-----------------------------
-------2---------------------
---2-4---4-------------------
-2---------------------------
-----------------------------

I forgot the rest. ):

The lack of Jello Biafra in my wardrobe was becoming troublesome.











Looks a thousand times cooler in life.

Wanted to put "Calif:)rnia Über Alles" on the back, but I instead settled on something of Jello's that the other DK guys didn't steal from him and commercially rape and murder ten thousand times over.

I really fucking hate sewing.

EDIT: Computer has a new fan and is running as subpar-ly as is normal for it again.

The motor on my computer's fan is burnt out, so it won't start up anymore. I don't know when I'll be getting it fixed, but until then at least I have 1,000 or so songs on my iPod to keep me occupied...

Hrmmm. Computer is making a funny burning smell and humming sound. I think it's having fan issues, since it is shutting itself down again and the burning hardware smell from earlier is never a good thing. I'm not leaving it on much lately (maybe overnight once in a while), and I just vacuumed it out again, but it doesn't make a difference. Just took a small fan out from the closet and plugged it in aimed directly at the back of the tower. Hopefully this helps a little...

I'm pretty sure, when there's burning smells, the more you leave the computer on the more likelihood there is for fried parts, but damn it I've got stuff to do. I've just about given up on this ancient piece of shit, though, so if it dies I can't really bring myself to get too worked up.