this is a not interesting picture post with not interesting pictures and not interesting words.

sissy cakes space kitty con queso spaghetti pants brown toes scuffy face:


built a shelf today:


cleaned the control room finally and set my gear back up:


went to see grace potter and the nocturnals:


i watch documentaries on bands whos final shows were in front of 15 people.

i still need something new to read. maybe I will hit north country books tomorrow. I can take a picture of myself book shopping and post it in my blog. it will be exciting for other people to see my technique. usually i just pull the tiny step stool up to the poetry section and sit there looking for books with no words on the spine. they will probably be 15 pages and cost $25.00. those are my favorites. I am most likely to buy a book if it: 1. has an inscription 2. has no writing on the spine. 3. has an interesting title and is by an author I dont know. 4. is by an author I do know and is an old edition. 5. is by an author I do know and has a good cover. 6. sounds interesting and is well written. 7. is poorly written in a good way and has an interesting story. 8. is hand written 9. is written by someone I know somehow 10. is a chapbook.

made this for breakfast with farm fresh eggs. I ate it while watching a lumberjack competition. it was very satisfying.

then I went to the box, finished the wall and set up some gear in the live room:

front wall:

back wall:


after went to tays birthday party.

ted and tay


snow on a stick:


a million feet of snow
isnt enough to reach the moon.
i know.
i had my people do the math.
but it is higher than the cloud cover.
which really makes it impossible.
unless there are space clouds
with space snow
that will fall on our regular earth snow.
and then moon snow that falls up on space snow
and down on the moon at the same time
until they connect.

i havent picture posted in a while... and the one I've got is pretty underwhelming.

jazzguys at parima a few weeks ago


wall progress day 1.


wall progress day 2.


why are there so many studs you ask? this is why:


nite.

made a winter mix:

1. Is There a Ghost / Band Of Horses
2. Woodland Hunter (Part I) / The Appleseed Cast
3. Walk On The Moon / Asobi Seksu
4. Hydroplane / The Stratford 4
5. Pulling Our Weight / The Radio Dept.
6. In The Wilderness / Mercury Rev
7. Seasons / Neil Halstead
8. Got My Sunshine / Mojave 3
9. The Longest Winter / Julie Doiron
10. Hope For Winter / Club 8
11. Winter / James Iha
12. Staralfur / Sigur Ros
13. The Season is Ours / Flying Saucer Attack
14. True Love Will Find You In The End / Sonic Boom
15. Frozen Gtr / Thurston Moore
16. Pale Blue Eyes / The Velvet Underground

let me know if you want a copy / send me your address.

nite in.

1. Driving in Snow
2. New Windshield Wipers
3. Music as a Higher Priority
4. Tools
5. So Used to Lines They Don't Kill Spirits
6. Common Habits
7. Distances are Smaller When Roads Lead to Future and Comfort
8. Popularize Fainting, Sleeping and Looking at Stars
9. When I Lived Alone, Is There a Ghost in My House?
10.

this song is why they make things that move fast
this song is why there are headphones
this song is why we are friends

mice running on light carpet
at nite
just the movement
the dead blanket
killing homeless
papers not enough
pine trees bending
with old man cracked
bones and silence
expensive silence

yesterday was the anniversary of my dads death. its been 6 years now. this is my entry from the nite it happened.

http://mosrite.livejournal.com/2001/12/02/

i dont feel like reading it. I'm not sure I remember exactly what I wrote but I remember how i felt when it happened and thats enough. I still feel his absence daily... especially this time of year.

*sigh*

had a busy weekend. helped jay build some desks from scratch which came out great. ripped some cds. finished some other stuff i have been working on forever. did laundry. re-routed the network wiring at the studio so I can build the wall. the show friday at red square was fun. went to brookes birthday party for a few. i swear i did something else. i listened to a lot of records thats for sure.

come listen to records at my house sometime. we will have hot chocolate and pop corn.

if we actually get this storm i will give you one dollar.

smile.

i miss things because i wear headphones all the time
like the way the yellow covers on the telephone pole
guide wires, (meant to keep kids from skinning their foreheads?)
whistle in the wind.

someone drew a giant penis
in the snow on a driveway
which turned it into
a giant vagina.

but there were no footprints around it.
how is that possible?

I am bad at putting actual sentences together in a way thats not... ummmm formulaic? or systematic? or sterile? I have failed at writing a few novels. ended up with hundreds of pages of words describing an ok story in a shitty way. i have been working on a short story as an exercise in finding a voice thats worth reading. The idea came out of a conversation with a friend. i finally figured out where this story should go. I pretty much need to re write the whole thing since this is a first written rough draft but i am pretty happy with the general direction and feel so far. here is the beginning:

--

The field we sat in to enjoy our green tea, which was served in rather small porcelain tea cups, is attached to the back gardens and lawns of two houses. Ours and our neighbors. The far garden walls provide a near complete barrier between the houses and long grass field. The only breaks in the barriers are the one leading in to our garden and one leading to our neighbors. The sun has just set and the tea is still steaming. The old yellowed tea set nearly glows white in contrast to the black curved wrought iron table. Its legs so intertwined and twisted that in the dim light it seems it has grown from the earth and is relative to the grass it sits in.

The moon, a few days shy of full, holds its place low in the sky just above the grey tree tops swaying and clacking leavelessly in the inaudible breeze. The field, shaped in a horse shoe, holds its ground sturdily and unfenced against the tall trees.

The forest is home to the most typical yet faceless and abundant wildlife. The owls sit in the trees at nite turning their heads in what seems to be a complete circle. If one spots the owl in prey, watching for faceless moles and mice, one would not be able to tell the front of the owls head from the back, not able to tell which direction the owl may fly to grab which faceless mole or mouse with pinpoint accuracy in its lethal talons, for the face of the owl, like the faces of all the animals are not actually faces. They are fur. Or soft down like feathers, nose skin with no holes, ears shaped as ears yet smoothed over in a perfect arc where sound should enter reflecting the waves to ineffective uselessness. Eyes just concave enough to cast shadows negating any light that might have proved effective if there was anything there to process it.

There we sat, staring into the evening, me in the wrought iron chair and **** in the grass braiding the hair of her porcelain headed faceless doll. The doll is clothed nearly the same as ****, in a plain grey dress and laced bodice stiffened with whale bone. Her hands working carefully and slowly with the three divisions of real human doll hair, one in the left hand, two in the right, replacing the middle row with the left then the new middle with the right, switching hands holding multiple rows of hair over and over as the braid slowly grew.

--


also?

these tired typed words
out of eyes, really,
not mouths or fingers
eyes really
just eyes