I just wrote a whole page for my voice class, and then the computer ate it. So I have to redo it. Anyway, theatre classes are starting to wear my out and it hasn't even been a week. I guess theatre classes are a whole other post, but I suppose the point of taking so many classes this summer was to demonstrate to myself the strength it takes to do this sort of work all the time.

I saw Matrix Reloaded, and was unsurprisingly disappointed. Everyone I talked to said that it could never live up to my expectations, and of course it did not. However, it is an enjoyable feature. Strangely enough, it did most of the things I wanted it to, but was defficent in some of the most basic areas of filmmaking. That is what really ticked me off--just the overall terrible clumsy writing. And I was hardly ever surprised through the whole film. There was good moments, but it wasn't fluid. Ok, this was supposed to be a small blurb; if I were to do a full review, it would take pages, so I'll stop myself now.

By the title of this entry, you might guess that I also saw Daredevil. While not one of the worst films ever as Chris might have you believe, it is fairly horrible. And yet somehow delightful in its idiocy. The one thing I really want to say is, it kept reminding me of the video for November Rain. I mean, Axl Rose was practically a superhero himself back then, and all the rain and christian iconography and the color contrasts between night and day were just the same in Daredevil. Boy oh boy, what a great music video. Everybody always talks about when Slash is outside of the church with his guitar, but remember when it starts raining at the wedding? And that guy jumps through that cake? That always really upset me. Why jump through the cake? It looks expensive.

I should have written this a long time ago, immediately after it happened. But right now I've been living in the OAF house, a house like any other but with less computers. Jed had me worried that this place was covered in filth, and indeed it partially was when I moved in, but Bobby Z and the rest of us whipped it into shape in a couple days. Except Bobby's room. But I don't have my own computer--right now I'm using Bobby's labtop.

Ok, ok, ok. Before I get into the big subject, a little about what has happened. I like where I'm living, I like the people, I got into all of my acting classes, which is Movement I, Voice I, and Acting I, and I'm working hard and enjoying it. Other than that, not much news per se.

So. On Saturday, I figured I'd put my money where my mouth is. Previously, I had a little negative blurb about a certain singer songwriter who shall remain nameless to avoid google--I don't exactly want people finding this post or anything. Well, the CD sampler left a bad taste in my mouth, so traveling to her website, I learned of a concert date she had here in Tallahassee, Saturday night. I tried to get somebody to go with me, but no one wanted to pay twelve to fifteen dollars for this first annual jazz festival (again the location will be left off to avoid google). So I went alone, to a concert I wasn't supposed to be at.

For the uninformed (Andy), this particular singer songwriter has been an aquaintance of mine since my sophomore year in high school. Words cannot capture the highs and lows of our relationship over the next four years. We were alternately extremely close and terrible enemies (I'm sad to say that it is true). It all fizzled out once we got to college. We both ended up at the same university, but I didn't continue hanging out with people from my high school, and she wanted more reliable friends. At then end, there was more fighting, mostly about some really old things. We decided to throw in the towel permenately. About ten months later, I approached her, and asked if she'd like me to come to one of shows around town. I didn't want to be friends, but I figured I'd show some support. She awkwardly but graciously declined. It was obviously the last exchange we will ever have (I think).

But, now I was here on my way to one of her shows. When she told me not to come. I suppose I haven't been very good with rules lately. I didn't want her to spot me, so I figured I'd show up early, and stand in the back. I was expecting a more typical, lowlit venue, the grungy kind that Tallahassee normally offers up. I didn't bother to disguise myself. I didn't really care for my sake if she noticed me--I just figured it would make her self conscious when she performed to know I was there. At least, that is what she said when we last talked.

So I'm eating this Publix sub, walking across the parking lot, to go to this venue. Except the sub is getting mayonaise all over my hands. So I decide to go throw out this sub. Which is probably what saved me, because her mom pulled up with a car full of people (presumably the singer songwriter as well) and got out, walking towards the venue. I quickly looked away and shuffled off. I would have been caught if they queued up in line right behind me.

So I go into this place, and it is actually this upscale bar, with an aquatic theme. It isn't grungy at all, and fairly well lit. People standing in the back and easily visible from the small stage. Whatever. I end up paying fifteen dollars, and walk in with just a red t-shirt and blue jeans. I stick out terribly. Everybody at this club is wearing at least a collared shirt, if not something more fancy pancy. I take two steps in the club, see the singer songwriter talking to her mom, and duck to the back bar and sit down. I figure, if I never make eye contact they will never notice me. I sense the ridiculousness of my actions. Why come to someone's show and hide? Shouldn't I just waltz in, sit down, and pretend that nothing is askew? Yeah, well, I'm an anxious guy, and I'm not sure my past with this person facillitates that sort of water under the bridge mentality. I don't want a scene, or worse, the evil eye. She was always good at making you feel uncomfortable from across the room.

So I spend the time leading up to the show watching these video monitors. They are playing some sort of low production fillm which is extremely hypnotic. They keep cutting between two images, but showing the same footage over and over again in this really tight pattern. And the footage looks like it is something out of a family's home video collections, with little kids and pets running around. This is juxtaposed with people driving places sped up, disconnected in their automobiles. It had this extremely effective tone of nostalgia, especially because there was no sound--all I could hear was the pre-show smooth jazz soundtrack.

I generally kept my hand in front of my face, conspicously supporting my ear as it is turned away from the singer songwriter and her mom. Later on, I move closer, sitting on the bench of the side of the club. I turned down the waitresses' offers of alcohol and blew out the candle at my table. I figured the less light the better. Little do I realize that I'm sitting under a light.

Finally, the lights drop and the show gets under way. The first band, Low Tide, is alright. The skinny white woman singing the blues had a dancing problem. She looked preposterous, grooving all over the music which sounded like a better version of that blues rock band in Ghost World. The guitarist had the opposite problem--he stood stock still, especially during his solos, which were alright, but had a stiffness to them because he looked like he was reading the dictionary while performing them. However, the fat woman singer had a really powerful voice, and later in the show, it turned out the skinny woman did too. As an opening band, they were alright. Nothing innovative, but who has done anything innovative of late? Who even cares? I was rocked a little--just a little. They were ok.

The lights at the show were worth noting. They had a dance floor cleared for the front, which they were sure to shine those goofy rotating color changing lights on. The backdrop to this dance club sort of trickery was either live blues or live jazz. It didn't fit. What was worse was the stage lights. They were fine when they were either on or off, but they kept randomly switching during performances. I kept noticing a light turing off or on, not on a beat or section change, but just in the middle of a song. They kept readjusting lights by ladder during the show and in between sets. Better to just have normal lights I guess.

Then the singer songwriter came on. You know when you go to a show, and one of the opening acts is just this person with an acoustic guitar that sings cryptic lyrics? That was her. Which of course was totally better than her CD. In fact, she sounded like I remembered, except with the edges rounded off. She didn't play any songs off her EP, nor any that I remembered. I had the feeling that they were all kinda new, that she had been writing a lot lately. She didn't embarass herself at all. The only problem was the volume. Early in the set the guitar was way too loud, but even after they turned it down, she couldn't summon enough vocal strength to be heard. The melodies were clear, but the lyrics weren't. She used the same white woman blues rock style as she did on her CD, except it wasn't abrasive. It was mixed too loudly on the CD, but here, she was kinda soft, so it worked. She mumbled between songs about her supportive family and made anxious nervous gestures to the sound people who helped her setup. Speaking of her supportive family, she seemed to be getting along with her mom the whole time. For the first time I can really remember, we got a sunny cheery version of herself, that still sang passionate overdramatic songs, but turned it off after she finished each tune.

She wasn't amazing. She didn't knock anyone off their feet. The people sitting next to me liked the first act more than her. I know because they didn't really pay attention when she was playing. There was a lot of talking while she played, and the applause wasn't too loud. She wasn't an embarrassment, but no one is going to sign her tomorrow.

And sitting there, hiding from her, I thought that not been signed isn't such a bad thing. I mean, here she is, happy as a clam, playing her songs, making a living, being creative, not compromising her style (like she did on the EP) and really what is wrong with that? She doesn't need an Mtv video slot. It wouldn't suit her. The audience that night wasn't exactly the right audience for her, and she does need to improve if she hopes to continue. But it is a good start, I think.

I never knew if she saw me. After her set finished, I stopped covering my face and avoiding being seen, but nobody seemed interested that I existed. My haircut alone shouldn't have protected me. But I suppose I was so unexpected, that nobody would have put two and two together. On the otherhand, she never did even come close to walking near where I was. That could have been coincidence. But didn't I hear her sing something about Abbey Road in one her songs, and then mumble afterwards that it was about this time she was driving on the interstate? She did always give me a hard time about that one night when I had first got my license and didn't know how to really navigate the interstate... I think there is a chance she realized I was there. But it didn't effect anything she did. She seemed happy the whole time. Not radiant perhaps, but content. She sure hugged her mom and friends a lot.

At the end of the show, during the final act, she was dancing with her family and friends that she invited. And it occured to me that she has gotten exactly what she wanted--a really suportive family. Back in high school, we were all really passionate, and talked seriously about art, and creation, which is great, but we were all flakes. I still am, in fact. That's fine, but it wasn't what she wanted. She always wanted stability. And there at the club it was obvious she had found it--a group of friends that actually were like family.

And of course, for me, the whole event was significant. Oddly enough, watching her dancing while I sat in the dark was just like this poem I wrote in high school that I gave her--purely plutonic, I swear to you! No REALLY, that one definitely was. But it was the first poem that I gave to her, in the spirit of trading art, and it has proved oddly prophetic. Here she is, happy, and amazingly I find that I'm happy that she is happy. Before the show, I couldn't imagine what she was doing. I thought to myself, she is out there right now, could be doing anything, but I can't think of what it is. And I had this sort of animosity, because she was this vague malevolent force from my past. But here she was, and it is hard to capture exactly what I thought in this moment now, because it was four days ago, but it was like I was happy that she could be happy without me having to think about her. Because I don't want to know her anymore, don't want her in my life--I don't want to think about her. But I found that her ability to exist without me pleased me greatly. That probably sounds obvious to everyone, but it is good to know that people can survive your animosity, and exist without you, and can continue to lead fulfilling lives that you'll never witness. I'm not saying that I used to feel responsible for her happiness (although I did, so maybe that has something to with it). What I'm trying to capture is this sense that her existence in no way relates to me, nor actively engages me. And yet it still pleases me.

And on a different level, it didn't seem too odd I was there. Because of course I care. A lot of people who heard her CD, not just me, disliked it. That distressed me, when one of the people I used to know is doing something that isn't successful (although that word in this case is highly suspect--and after the show seems unapplicable). I continue to care about these people who were around me a long time ago, who I went to high school with. I recently discovered my resevoirs of anger in London. I'm an angry person. Well, this is the other side of me. I have whole bundles of concern, even for people I don't get along with.

I'll end on a different note (C#? Gb?). The main act at the show was Chairmaine Neville and she was one of the best performers I've ever seen. She had a great jazz band, that swung like mad, and she was an ecletrifying dyed in the wool jazz singer. She took all sorts of popular melodies, like yellow submarine and tell me something good, and flipped them on their head and spun them. Actually, she reminded me of the singer songwriter in some ways. It seems that the singer songwriter built her stage persona in some ways around Neville's. Neville was beautiful, in a long white dress, with long black braids, and she had dramatic but completely controlled hand gestures. She owned the band, commanded them, and she always took the lead, even playing an extra little mallet thing when she wasn't singing. Even during the trumpet solos, she was the visual center of attention. She had real presence. And most amazingly, she sang an entire song in a voice that sounded exactly like Louis Armstrong. I'm not lying.

I know there hasn't been a lot of content on this site lately, and I hate when bloggers say I'll write more later, or there is a lot more to say but I'll just write it later, because you know they won't, and then you feel like you are missing out, because they have something to say, they just told you they did, but they aren't gonna say it. But I'm sorry, I have to do it to you now--I'll write more later.

(ed: There is no spell check on this computer. Therefore, my severe inapptitude in spelling is now exposed. Please excuse any errors--no need to point them out. I know they are in there somewhere.)

Bobby Z is over at my house for the night, so just a quick post. I leave for Tallahassee tomorrow, and I want to get this thought out of my head.

I was looking through my senior yearbook at some of the younger kids to try to remember their names. I saw a lot of faces on campus and I couldn't always remember the name. But every time I saw somebody in the yearbook that I recognized, all I could think about was what X Men character they were during X Men day. And that just reminded me how cool X Men day was. It was one of the coolest things League ever did.

Chris was always upset that he missed it, but I think he would have been annoyed at some of the choices, or at least have argued with me. Basically, everyone would come up to me, I would take a quick look at them, and then assign them a random X Men character and scribble it on a tiny piece of paper. OK, not randomly assign, but as many of them were just for laughs as made sense. Ashley Swinnerton as Psylocke was just pure humor (never liked Psylocke, but Ashley was nice). I'm not exactly sure what the joke is, but the idea that Ashley is Psylocke even now cracks me up. I did have some inspired moments: Kelly D. as the Scarlet Witch, Len as Colossus, Jed as the Beast. Others were obvious: Ben Fagin as Professor X, Paul as Cyclops, Catlan as Magneto. The funniest was Tristan as Cannonball (he was Cannonball right?). He just wore overalls and walked around telling people his power was that his ass exploded.

X Men day may have just been a costume party with no games, but it got everyone involved. Everybody got a character. Even some dorky freshmen I never met in my life got Deadpool, whose comic was really hot back then. And Paul Sokol impressed everybody with his Toad. Even nowadays people remember it. I was sitting next to Megan Russell during X Men 2, and she got so excited when Kitty Pryde ran through the walls of the mansion. She was Shadowcat for X Men day, and her character finally made it to the big screen.

Another thing about my yearbook I noticed is that one of my quotes looks really dirty. But once you know the story you realize it was purely innocent. One time I was over at Katie's house, and we were watching television with her family. She turned to me and opened her mouth, but instead of words she just said complete goobly gook that spelled phonetically would look sort of like "mmphmarmar". And everybody in the room just stared at her. And then laughed. She had meant to say something, but she was so embarrassed because all she did was make some weird noise. Of course, "mmphmarmar" written out next to Katie in the yearbook on my page sounds like a sexual innuendo. But it wasn't that at all, I swear!

That, and my senior page is covered in dumb Beatles quotes that I don't even like anymore. Except maybe, "Think Symphonically". On the other hand, I remembered this great picture I have of me, dressed as a cub scout with a huge parrot on my arm, and I'm wearing a huge grin. I don't remember this happening at all. I barely remember being a cub scout. It is just some random moment I have no recollection of. And that is why I put it on my senior page.

This ended up a whole lot longer than expected. Ah well. Talk to you in Tallahassee.

According to Kelli, I smell bad often. Although apparently I did not smell today or yesterday. Ok, that is fine, I smell bad. Something I need to work on. But let me at least get a sense of scale here. Write in the comments how often you think I smell. And no holding back. You'll just motivate me to smell less bad more often. And yes, I find this embarrasing, so I figure that is the first step to recovery. Maybe one day when I am in a better mood I will tell you why I didn't care for so long.

I heard Tori's CD and it was terrible. I could write about it extensively, but I'm not going to. She asked me in the last pseudo-conversation we had not to mention her on any weblogs, and for some reason I feel like honoring that ('cept for this short insight). I can just imagine her reading this little blurb and thinking, "How the fuck did he get my CD? And why does he think it is bad anyway? What has he done lately?"

Well, nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Gearing up to head off to Tallahassee to live in a house that Jed describes as a den of filth. And to try to get into acting classes. And then doing a whole lot more nothing I suspect.

Looking back on the previous post about Pine View (thanks Chris and Jer), I feel like I'm just about ready to give up Drama League. Yep, it was great. But it sure is over, and there is no way to bring it back. I suppose the rational thing to say is that we abused it, and that is why we lost it. But don't we deserve something to abuse? Anyway, I figure I might as well give all these hopes and dreams I have laying around a try. No point in looking back at least. Wish me luck at college, again.

A new post must be made. It has been too long. My mind has turned to jelly. All I've done this past week has been sit on my ass and watch movies. The only people I've seen is my parents. That is, until I went to Pineview.

Things are a little crazy in my head right now. I'm still trying to absorb the experience. All the great things about Pineview are still great, and all the bad things might be even worse. I feel, and felt for a longtime, that my life will in someway be dedicated to working with or for kids in some capacity, especially young people who desperately want to express themselves, and are restrained at every step, forced by adults to operate within boundaries. Kids are bursting at the seems to grow and develop, and before you know it, it is too late. They lose interest. My journey to Pineview helped rekindle my passion for the battle for the hearts and minds of the American youth, goddamnit. That is where the future will be decided, in the way we raise our children. Sorry to get all preachy on you, but this is what I believe, this is my life, how it has always been, and I'm pretty convinced at this moment how it will continue to be.

But I take that with a grain of salt. I've had several theories of life over the past week. When you have nothing to do but eat girl scout cookies and fret over your career choices, you begin to ponder everything. You begin to formulate solutions, theorize. Maybe the reason I don't have successful relationships with pets is because I hold back with them, etc. etc. (ed: this is just a shallow example of these hairbrained theories. The author gets along well with all pets). So I'm taking everything with a grain of salt now, and letting all these random thoughts drift through my mind, not holding on to anything, not changing my life with every step. I will admit I'm flipping out a bit. Maybe a lot.

But besides all the psycho-bullshit, it was great to see everybody at Pineview. The weird thing was that it wasn't weird at all, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I felt comfortable that I was an alumnus, I felt comfortable with everyone's age (except Bonnie--She is in ninth grade already?). I just walked on to campus and picked up my life and relationship with these people, some of whom I haven't really interacted with for two years. A lot of things have changed, but when you try to explain it to one of them, you realize that even in the basic scheme of high school, you and most of the people you know are still pretty much the same. I was really fortunate to visit them at school. Everyone I saw was just amazing, in amazing shape, doing really great. Well, I suppose there are some exceptions, but they all treated me really well, made me feel like a million dollars, and as long as I'm pleased, then who cares if their personal lives are in order? But honestly, the people at Pineview are just the greatest in the world, and if I ever doubted it, the proof is in the pudding (whatever that means). These people rock. I miss them already and I haven't even left.

There is a lot of disappointment with League. It is less than gone. Apparently the administration actually has an active program to repress it and delete it. This may sound like 1984, but there was talk of attempting to change the past, rearrange facts to support the current order of things. This was more than distressing. This was soul crushing.

I can't tell you how much I care. It is like a whole planet of concern. Over just the smallest inch of the memory of League. And all I can really feel is guilt, horrible guilt, and failure. The missed oppurtinites still haunt me. I don't know how much it upsets everyone else. But it upsets me. A lot.

There is a lot to say, but no one to say it. I'm just not in the mood. I saw XMEN 2. I think I actually liked it better than Chris. The dialogue didn't bug me as much as the gaping plot holes--but on the other hand, every scene played out like a fanboy's dream. They knew what you wanted, and they delivered.

Ok, I'm out for now. Drop me a line with the comments, and I'll try to summon enough initiative to send out some of those individual emails I've been meaning to write. Caitlin in particular deserves a letter from me more than anyone on Earth deserves anything. By the way, hi Caitlin! Thanks for all the comments! I'll email you soon. Ok, until next time.