6:14pm (Ventura, CA) :: I now sit in my modest hotel room, with the window closed to the world of the Mission Park bums in the City of San Buenaventura, waiting for KXCI back home to start their electronic programming. I was planning to call in tonight and pledge money, but this hotel has already taken $8 extra for use of the Internet, and I just don't think that they really deserve any more of my money. It just didn't live up to its "3-star" expectations. It's quaint, but needs some work. I walked down to the beach earlier, watching the sunshine reflect on the waves for a while, and then continuing down the beach past the surfers and then the kite surfers. If you've never seen kite surfing, it's not only interesting, but genuinely beautiful in its grace. I enjoyed the walk, but the water itself looked pretty disgusting and I'm not really up for swimming here. The drive was fine until I hit Palm Springs. I decided to skirt the city on the 210 freeway through Pasadena, which spits you right out on the Ventura Freeway where I wanted to be. I had thought about heading down Beverly Glen towards Century City and then over to Santa Monica and up the PCH, but I think that I'll do the scenic route tomorrow. I was just anxious to get off the fucking road and take a shower. Last night, as planned, I hit my favorite spot at Kofa. It was a great night: about a 2/3-full moon, an underlying blanket of stars and a temperature of around 70 when I went to sleep with only a slight breeze to the southwest. I drank a High Life that I had bought in Tacna before weaving through Dome Valley towards Highway 95 and danced around outside on the sort of desert tundra that exists there. I think that I went to sleep around 10:30, deciding to sleep in the bed after determining that the bugs swarming the light of my car stereo were not mosquitos, but rather just some weird-ass moths. I woke up occassionally during the night out of discomfort, turning around a little, using my t-shirt as a pillow. I finally shot up at about 2:30 after the moon had set, and all that remained of my horizon was a thick blanket of pointy stars. For whatever reason, I decided to leave and find a new place. So I jumped in the truck and drove north, to Palm Canyon. I slept there for about three more hours, waking up to the end of dawn. The sun was behind the massive rock formations which are home to Palm Canyon, so I didn't get in the sun until I finally left at about 8:30. The hike up into the main canyon was pretty good. The trail ended at a sign reading "PALMS" pointing to the upper-left. Stupidly, I looked for a trail, but could find none, so I began rock hopping. I finally found a small side canyon with one distant fan palm and assumed this to be it. I tried to climb up, but the way was blocked by large rocks and heavy vegetation, so I turned back, disappointed. The mosquitos had also begun to swarm at this point, and I had a crowd of at least 20 of them at some points following me, mainly near my legs to avoid my flailing arms. I got near the sign, looked to the right, and saw the sight of the palms behind a rock. The sign was pointing to where they actually were, not how to get there. Dumbass, right? So I tried to get up into the side canyon to get underneath the palms, but only got about halfway. The canyon where the actual palms are is very v-shaped, and offers little leaway for exploration. The end of the walkable distance comes with a large boulder and a rock face at about 80 degrees, both of which would have been impossible to get up without a minimal amount of rock-climbing equipment, which I, of course, didn't have. I got a pretty good picture though, and even though I probably lost a pint of blood on the hike, it was still fun and nice to do that again.

Wow, enough of that bullshit rambling. I'm proud of myself for eating so well thus far: no fast food. Ate spaghetti, salad and fruit at a restaurant in Gila Bend last night, had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast at Palm Canyon, some half-ass Chinese food near San Bernardino for lunch, and just ate sushi and a little sourdough bread for dinner. The good news is that the deli sets up shop at Von's at 7am (so they say) tomorrow, so I'll be able to go through with the sandwich/picnic plan on Anacapa tomorrow.
whatever, whatever. I need to do nothing now, but I feel like I should take a walk and check out the Ventura nightlife, maybe even get a beer somewhere. I'm tired as shit, so I don't know whether or not this will actually happen. I just want to lay in my big bed and watch bad movies the rest of the night. I can't get over cable when I actually get a chance to watch it now. It's like a drug really. I guess, whatever.

4:05pm :: So it's been raining for about an hour and it really shows no sign of stopping. Brownish pools are forming in the parking lot, the rivers fill and quicken, and the streets become impassable. I sit in my apartment, just listening to the sound of it all against Mogwai. The endless, solemn, repetitive songs on Come On Die Young sort of typify what the rain is about to me: this quiet resignation where you're not overly happy but nor are you depressed. Everything is just sort of there and just effortlessly step around it.
I went to the Grill for lunch late this morning. I had a reuben and an RC. Right before my food came, a guy about my age sat down right next to me at the counter and ordered the exact same thing. How strange. He left before I did, which was even stranger. People get far too nervous eating alone, like they're doing something shameful or wrong. When I came out, one of those psycho-type bums was walking on the other side of the street. He turned to me as he walked and yelled "Hey!" I looked quickly in his direction, having not noticed him up to that point, but turned away whistling and walked down to the street corner, ignoring any sense of provocation. I accidentally followed him back home as he headed towards the Tucson bum, the I-10/Congress area. The Grill itself is not a mecca for the weirdos of Tucson, it's too expensive. Rather, it's more a draw for the eccentrics as well as the self-declared eccentrics. I don't think I'm really that eccentric, working a 9-5 as I do, but I think I let loose a little on weekends with my flip-flops and dirty white t-shirts and end up scaring a few in the oblivious masses.
A woman stopped in the middle of an intersection looking for something Downtown. The man behind her in a truck honked and yelled "What the fuck are you doing?" She had her windows up and probably didn't hear it.
This is it. One of those laid-back rainy days where you just want to listen to Brian Eno and read. I can only read what I write at this point, and that sucks. If I read someone else's writing while typing, then I think I would just end up quoting them. This is fine, but only in moderation.

Today I was actually supposed to go to band practice or to the mountains in the late afternoon, but both fell through. I purchased a domain today, and got my "company" site up pretty much the way it will be. The total cost has come to about $50 for the year, most of which is going to my hosting company, who charges $2.50 per month for the service. This is compared to the close to $150 I spent creating the original domain and getting it hosted. I shouldn't complain however, it's just a little bit of money, I guess. And what else am I going to with it besides give it to charity or KXCI.
"I'll tell you about punk rock. Punk rock is a word used by dillettantes...and...heartless manipulators...and it's a term that's based on contempt...it's a term that's based in fashion, style, elitism...satanism, and everything that's rotten about rock and roll."

8:19pm :: Yes, I am a long from home!

I was ridiculously tired all day today. More sleep is needed, for everyone, not just me. I spent almost the whole day at work answering questions on a forum. I think I should do this for a living, or maybe I already do. No word on the Pima job yet, but that's to be expected since it doesn't close until Tuesday, and government-type jobs typically don't start calling until after the closing date. Yeah, kinda weird, I think. But who am I to question things such as this?
Tomorrow is Friday, and I'm not sure that I've ever been happier that it was. I need to fill voids to be happy, and this just isn't happening right now. Enough of that pessimistic shit though.

I guess there's nothing else to say though besides damn. I really wanted to see that Donnie Darko cut tonight, but I'm just too damn tired to even think of staying up past like 10:30. Someone is smoking outside my apartment right now, and it's coming through the vents and making me want a cigarette. Addiction is a terrible thing to waste. But no, I can't go buy any. That would go against my ethical horizontalism. Whatever that is.

11:20pm :: So I was at work today, and was so bored that I wanted to write in this. I downloaded all of the files for the Shuai Ge site, but then remembered that I had updated the journal for a September entry and thought I had updated the image, so I decided to wait and continued to sit there bored. I just opened this up to find that I had indeed made another entry, but not another image as I had assumed. What a pisser. Also tonight, I learned that there was a "director's cut" of Donnie Darko playing at The Loft. I was planning on seeing this, but went to their web site to find "No Wednesday 9:10pm showing." Now that really sucks. So, I sat at home and drank Chilean wine all night. I'm staying up this late because I took quite a nap this evening, from about 5:15 to 7pm. This is always satisfying: falling asleep to dull TV only to wake up to even duller TV. I'm tired now, and slightly drunk, but this doesn't bother me. I'd like to get some fresh bagels or rolls tomorrow at Safeway and have to get there after 7:15 to do so.

Wow, now that's interesting. I worry about love and loneliness often. Not being without the former or emersed in the latter, but rather having either affect my life. It's possible that one or the other is affecting my life now, but I can't be totally sure. Human existence is too overly-complicated, it needs to be simplified to the point where we can mechanically go about our menial lives without the slightest bit of friction from those around us. Right? Right!

Windows Media Player insists that I'm not connected to the Internet, and this is just a blatant lie, or a residual effect of running a firewall. I don't know. Either way, it's getting close to sleep time as the Dandies wind down their epic production.

8:22pm :: Months roll by and I do nothing but look out my window, wishing that I could see the sunset.

So last night, I go driving after being inspired to go see the stars. I drive down Mission Road into the San Xavier Reservation (one of my favorite drives in town). I get to the really desolate part where the road is in total disrepair but still has no passing zones clearly marked and this guy starts riding me. I slow down to below the speed limit, but he refuses to pass, which seems typical of Arizonans. Finally I give up, and pull off at the first road I see, which luckily was paved. This turned out to be Pima Mine Road, which forms the southern boundary of the reservation, and leads to the Desert Diamond Casino, although this particular part of it didn't connect to that other part. The north side of the road is untouched desert while the south side is a collection of large lot trailer homes. I drove for about a mile and a half, finally reaching the end of the pavement. Not wanting to go on, I turned around. My music was up loud, but I could hear something atypical of the desert faintly over it. So I turn down the music, and I hear the sound of at least ten coyotes howling chaotically all at once. They almost sounded like geese. I sat there for a little over a minute, for some reason hoping that they would stop howling, but they didn't. I finally started to pull away, and the howling stopped. I drove back down the road thinking about it, and pulled back onto Mission Road, ending up at the gated back entrance of a mine and listened to Hum for about half an hour watching the stars.
This may seem somewhat insignificant, but hopefully I'll remember why this was so significant, as well as why I was so ratted by it, if I ever read this in the future.

This whole week has been just waiting for Friday to come. The week wants it, I can feel it. Tomorrow Modulator is coming to Nimbus. I've spent the week trying to get people to go in order to show support, but I'm not sure how many will actually show up. People from work, mere acquaintances, reasonably good friends, anyone who I think might like live music. Maybe no one does though. I'm not even sure that I do. I do like it, I guess, but just in a comfortable environment: sitting down in a not-too-crowded venue with a good beer and a couple of good friends to make snide remarks to and maybe even laugh at the band or some of the other show-goers. That's mean, yes, but that's what we humans do: take comfort in knowing that we are way cooler than everyone else in sight.