yeti apocalypse

LostYeti is the new place. Why? Why the fuck not. Just go there, jerks.

For no reason at all, even though I’m completely exhausted with blogging, I’ve decided to start writing in here again. In fact, I’m going to try to write something in here every day, until I decide that’s boring and I don’t want to. The internet is over-blogged and thus, just like email, blogging has become obsolete. And now it’s so oversaturated and collectively uninteresting that I feel comfortable doing it again. Writing whatever the hell I want without being concerned about appearing excessively humorous, intellectual, political, or anonymous.

So tonight I went out in Champaign after a while. I’ve only been in Jersey for about 7 weeks but it feels like a lifetime away from the long grown-up vacation that I had going before I moved away. It’s weird to have a new weariness about me. At the same time it was amazingly comfortable to be wandering around downtown, enjoying the obvious mix of laid-back yet properly dressed Chicago exiles mingling with brutal hillbilly meth freaks. This town somehow defines me completely. To understand me, you must spend 24 hours wandering around Champaign doing what I might have done on a random gorgeous day in early May.

I do miss this place. Central Jersey is a strange location, and I just can’t figure it out yet.

Yetistan, Illinois is fucking freezing. It didn’t break 40 today. Apparently with windchill it’s below freezing. Tonight it will be 30 degrees. And the weather will remain between 30-40 degrees until Monday, at which point it will slowly start to warm up again.

I sent out a text message to some people today saying, “April Fools, assholes! It’s still winter! Thought it was spring didn’t ya!”

Perfect weather to complement a perfect mood. I’ve been feeling like total shit for a few days. Thank god I’m getting pressure to practice daily, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing shit.

Need the weather to get better again.

Giorgio Moroder is truly brilliant.

This is the real shit. The thing I love about this video is that this brother got some true school old dawgs to represent. I completely approve. I give this video my fake-ass Punjabi approval.

1) Drinking is fun, but bad for your health.

2) I need to spend as many weekends in Chicago as possible until I leave this place. I went up there last weekend and had far more fun than I could possibly have here, just hanging out at various places including even Sound-Bar, which I used to dislove.

3) The weather gods are out to destroy us.

4) I can finally do fucking windmills. I’m like the Don Quixote of b-boys.

5) TMW is something I really can’t deal with even on a small scale level.

6) Central Illinois is a grey, grey place, and yet I do love it for some reason.

Albums I’ve been listening to recently:

All this shit is hella raw. I could babble about the albums and the people that put me on to them (all but one is an artist someone else introduced me to), but just go listen to them. They’re all quite good. (Try to be drunk when you play Arular, and play it at loud volume.)

why is it that some nights i close my eyes after staying up far too late and suddenly fear the unknowable infinite endlessness of death and eternity, the vastness of space and the smallness of myself? that I suddenly am overwhelmed with the very same feelings I had as a four-year old child, realizing in the darkness that neither his father nor mother nor anyone else could protect him from the inevitable end? why do I still feel this way? why is it that I haven’t completely reconciled the fact that I live, I think thousands of things that seem very important to me from day to day, that I breathe and feel my pulse and my frustration with my inability to be perfect and all the range of emotions from joy to despair, and also will one day be very, very, irrevocably, unchangeably gone? why does this all remain in some kind of weird illusory balance - as though the puny few years that will comprise the entirety of my existence in this world somehow balance out the infinite whiteness of death, which will be mine as it will all of ours? what are these flashes of fear? why do they even exist? do they remind me and motivate me to continue being alive and extracting something from the time I do have here, or do they represent some kind of mistake of evolution wherein the brain’s explosive development has allowed for a brief escape from the illusion of the self and the mind? and why is this brief escape so frightening? why do I not fear explosions or bullets or knives or giant frogs but rather just the incoherent non-being of my eventual demise?

and why is it that most nights, I don’t give it a second thought, and I can sleep and awake and arise and worry about life?

not trying to be profound. feel small in the wee hours of the morning.