Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Kids With the Brain Chemicals

Us kids with the brain chemicals-
we were born to lose.
Our parents didn't want us and now
we got more letters than we know what to do with.
A.D.D, O.C.D, P.T.S.D...
We didn't ask for this but we are forced to deal with it.
Addicts, losers, lazies...
More than meets the eye.
I am a victim of circumstance
And a life better lived only in whispers and secrets
And diseases.
We strive to be normal
But the moods or distractions get the better of us.
Shiny fucking things
Are never what they seem.
Counsel away but it doesn't counsel
the shame.
Love is an idea- not a concrete thing to be held
to a woman who was first touched in lust.
To a man beaten down by a Father.
Time wounds all heals
for the kids with the brain chemicals.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


The crowd stretched down the block, but was moving fairly quickly. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I thought to myself "this is it. I'm finally here, and a thirteen year love is going to be realized." As I got to the door a nice looking guy touched my arm and asked if I wanted a free ticket. His friend had bailed and he had no use for it. I said "sure" and took the ticket, texting a few friends to let them know the situation. As it turns out I would have no luck as suspected.

I walked over the merch table immediately to see about purchasing a tshirt, another reason alone to be at the show. I had trouble deciding between the new cd design and a tshirt that said Moby for president. (I believe he should be hehe.) I decided on the former and thought about picking up a copy of "Wait For Me" but wasn't sure about the cash. I figured I could always get it on itunes too, so I made my way over the stage. The left side had a decent view of the stage and I settled in with a decent view, even though my camera phone wouldn't capture the pictures very well.

I looked around at the crowd noticing faces either much younger, or much older than myself. I found this funny. The crowd split between the older crowd I was sure was there for his more mellow later work, and the younger having rediscovered him as a dj or for his earlier electronic work. Most likely his "Play" album. I also noticed I was not the only person to go solo, but that most of the people were in groups or couples, as usual. It just seemed this time I was more alone because I didn't know the band or any of the fans prior.

After what seemed like forever, the lights dimmed and Kelli Scarr came onstage. She looked very unrockstaresque. Hair back, over sized sweater she looked like a fireplace commercial. Then she opened her mouth and began singing with one of the most distinctive and beautiful voices I'd heard. I realized quickly I'd heard her sing on a Moby album before and that was likely why she had the opening slot. While I enjoyed her songs, I to myself thought they were too slow to start a concert. I'd been so full of excitement that the mood had been brought down a bit. She used a looping pedal and played completely alone, singing with her eyes closed for most of the set. Closing with a song about the son she left at home, the crowd clapped and whopped surprisingly noisily. We collectively waited for the man to come to the stage we'd all come for. I've often referred to Moby as God, and so when you've built someone up like that you can only hope they will live up to the expectations. I waited to see.

The lights dimmed and a cheer went up over the crowd. The long notes of "Shot In The Back Of The Head" began and a swell of emotion came through my body. The drives I'd taken in the last few months came to mind, and an image of rain. I felt tears sting my eyes and couldn't believe it. I hadn't planned on crying, even knowing damn well how much I loved the little idiot, and how much his music had meant to me. How his album "18" had been there for me through some really hard times. That the song itself "18" is what I imagine sounds like when you die. Sad, but hopeful...
I enjoyed every second of the song, informing the young girls in front of me when they asked which song it was and which album. I knew I'd be the biggest fan around me. When Moby finished he said "thank you! thank you! thank you!" in a quick and cute way. The crowd laughed. Very humble. One of the many reasons I love him. This he would continue through the night.
He switched right over into the next song "Wait For Me" having Kelly Scarr sing again. She played keys for the rest of the show as well.
A few songs passed and soon a rhythm started and the crowd was feeling it. The air was electric. I secretly hoped it was "Bodyrock" and soon enough the song came in. The crowd without being told started jumping up and down in unison. Moby yelled out "who rocks the party that rocks the party" and I felt on top of the world. The room was at one, under our leader. The rest of the show would be very different.
People began shoving their way in front of people. The unity of the crowd seemed to end. The excitement and happiness I felt was temporarily put on hold as people tried to get in front of me nearly knocking me down in the process. I'd never been to a show where concert etiquette seemed so lacking. This from Moby fans? I was shocked. And angry. Then I was really upset when they stood in front of me, blocking the view that I had gotten there early for. That I had stood there for, not going to the bar or moving for hours.
They were drunk already so left the area just in time for Moby to start making a Hendrix comment, and the band broke into "Purple Haze." The time was passing quickly and I feared the concert would be over before I knew it. Yet, he still had many of my favorite songs to play.

Moby began my next favorite song by saying he loved it because he got to play disco guitar at the beginning, and he did confusing me as to which song it was but then he broke into "We Are All Made of Stars" and I screamed and danced and sang to that one. Happy again. From that song he began a monologue.

He spoke of San Francisco and how when they had played the next song and everyone of all couples gay straight and indescriminate gender began making out and it was like a sophmore love in. He encouraged the crowd to do the same. So... Everyone began making out around me, and I felt alone again. Happy for those around me, but alone again. I have been to every important concert by myself in my life. The notes of Porcelain began:
"Tell the truth you never wanted me... Tell me..." I focused on the happy memories I had to this song, unlike some of his others and brushed away the lonley feeling and past mistakes.

My back had been begun hurting long before and by this time it was excruciating but I did my best not to think about that either. I took pictures with my cell and moved and lived in the moment as best I could. He played the only song from his 'Hotel' album "Raining Again" and before he closed with "The Stars" he began a long monologue about being a recovering raver. He is an amazing dj, most amazing djs are recovering ravers, hehe. I was transported back to Freaknight last Halloween, where I hadn't gotten nearly as close to Moby. The stage was set so high and far away you couldn't get close. The lights shut off then and the band went off stage without even saying good night. Obviously open for an encore.

The crowd shouted "Mo-by! Mo-by! Mo-by!" I hollered right along. He had to play "Extreme Ways." He just had to. It was in my top 3, and one of his biggest singles.
He came back a few moments later and broke into "In This World." I love that song and know it well, but it isn't a favorite.
He began the next by saying it was his favorite he'd ever written. I wondered which one it was and he began the keys to "When it's Cold I'd Like To Die." This was a favorite of mine as well, and listening to the music and lyrics I teared up again:
"I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim forever
When it's cold I'd like to die..."
I wondered why it meant so much to him. What he had written it about. A break up?

I've never switched moods so quickly at a show because he then broke into "Extreme Ways" and my elation returned. Moby was a true miestro of my emotions. I figured this would be the last song. He'd been playing for nearly an hour and a half now. Well over twenty songs. But after he finished, he promised they'd play one more and I considered leaving only because my back was in excrutiating pain and I was so tired from standing. I'd heard all of the tracks I loved and knew he'd play. 'But' I scolded myself, 'you've been waiting on this for over a decade. You should stay as long as possible.' So I stayed put and he began his last song "Honey."
Honey turned into a jam song lasting over ten minutes. I appreciated it and loved the fact he took a chance to do that, but by the end I wondered how anyone had managed to sing and play that long consistantly. The set clocked in at just over two hours. Another attribution to the man I had called God.

So did he live up to my expectations? He surpassed them. He was funny, and sweet, and quirky. He owned the crowd, and even thought the crowd were rude concert goers, that had nothing to do with Moby, his set, or anything he had control over. Moby was amazing, and I will pay another 50 bucks to see him anytime. I love the little idiot. Next time I will take pain medication before and hang out after. Done deal.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

High Dive

Hello Saturday afternoon. I am home again, for the moment, craving a cig like nobody's business and thinking far too much again. Perhaps a cig will help with that too. Stay here while I run to the Sev...

Ok, ten minutes later and we're good. Johnny's last performance was a blast to watch. He jumped around on stage and sang well. He looked gorgeous and after he spent some time with me alone, just talking to me. While the evening was shared it didn't feel like it as much. It was more cohesive overall and I have to think that he paid attention to what I was saying about those things. I felt like his girlfriend that night, and not a tag along.
I invited Summer's friend Chelsea to come out after she finished her final and we got a chance to talk. She brought out two of her friends as well and we all chatted for a few minutes. As I was standing up by the stage at some point I looked back at her and noticed she was pointing at me and Johnny and Amber, so I wandered back and was like "I know you were talking about me" she laughed and said "I was explaining to my friend here about who was with who and such." I looked at him and said "I'm with the lead" and then we talked for a few minutes about Post Ado itself, and Johnny's music.

When Michelle, the drummer's wife showed up, I didn't say hello immediately. She was entereted in to a convo with Chelsea herself and to be honest I'd never really talked to her. I am always apprehensive to talk to people straight away in situations like that when I have no common ground.
Believe it or not, before I talk to anyone, even with as outgoing as I am I try to get a reading on them first so I can find something to say that's engaging. However, when I did get the chance I popped over to her and said hello and she said "I hardly recognized you in jeans! You always wear skirts!" I laughed and said "yeah, that's my rock gear. I love mini skirts. Tonight felt a little more like a jeans night and I haven't done laundry since I haven't been home."
Anyway, that started us talking about other things and joking around. I felt like it was good for another thing to be included in.
The second band was really pretty good. The kind of music I like, very nordic rockish. I loved their first song. Spoke to a few of the band members, met another lovely girl called Amy. Then I had a conversation with Amber...
I tried to convay some of the things I've said in here to her face. I know she reads this, but I felt like I wanted to say something more than hello. I drove seperately over to the bar thinking I wouldn't drink much and turned her down for a ride. I wasn't sure how she'd take it, but it was good that it worked out that way because I called Frank before and we ended up hitting a burrito place before the show. I didn't even get there til 8:30.
I was nervous before. Honestly, he sort of calmed me down. I was nervous because I was so excited to see J play again, but apprehensive because I didn't want to feel on the outside again.

That brings me to another dream I had last night. It was about Johnny and I, and we were talking and laughing. I felt comfortable at that point to say something real to him which stopped it and got us in a confrontation again.
I think I know what my subconscious is trying to tell me. I'm worried that I'll ruin every good time we have because when we're close like that it's when I want to talk to him, and that's what has happened twice now. It's not healthy. I wish I knew how to read that better. I don't fuck up like that with anyone else. It's like holding a butterfly in your hand or something. It's beautiful and delicate, but while it's yours you know you have to be careful with it. Oiy. I wish I were less complicated. I wish he knew how much I cared. It's my motivation for everything right now.

I have fallen in love again. :) It's a song called "I Get Off" (Halestorm) and I heard it for the first time on the way to the High Dive. Damn, I envy the chick who sings. The song is harder and like seriously gets my adrenaline going. Makes me motivated to start running again. I have to be even more careful with that now thanks to the athsma. I am paranoid. I've never been that worried about anything except having my sleeping pills on me. That attack really changed my life...

I'm running out to see Summer now for the first time since before Utah. I should finish writing that song, but it' s working out in my head. So, that's good. Plus having a new song to be crazy about always motivates me to do something similar. I'll have to start another one. Perhaps tomorrow.

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Letter (poem)

Where are the woods where my love once waited?
A dream in mid May
Seems so far away...
I touch him praying for a rush
A tidal wave of emotion he'll betray on his face
For me
But he does not.
Another tale takes hold of what I
One where I am the villain
And the keeper of pain
And I keep silent.
If you could show me
my mind would quiet
my soul would rest.
But I wait with baited breath
For a letter that will never come.
A song may rise
But the words you write
Will never come.

Studio/Asthma Death

I have spent the last two days in the studio. My first real studio. Not just pissing around with pro tools at a mate's getting my songs down, though that's always fun too. I was so excited. I can't begin to describe the feeling of seeing 25 years of work come to light. Dream come true it was. The producer said he could hear "Lullaby" on the radio. We layered the shit out of that song. It is epic. I can't believe I wrote it. It's so much bigger than me... Looking back I remember the steps of writing it. Needing to write about losing Mason to addiction, but again truly another man I never really had as he was cheating on me.
He never confessed but Nate, one of his two best friends, confirmed for me last time we spoke. I have spoken of Nate before. I miss the shit out of him...
Anyway we expected to be in there and pay for 20 hours. We finished up in 15. Strings were done on take one. Piano in two takes. Vocals well, I'm pickier about that shit so that was about five, trying to nail harmonies and such.
I had a text conversation right before I recorded the vox for "Goodbye" the hardest and angriest song I've ever written. It hurt me. I took it out on the music. You can hear it. I mean, I sound angry. Nothing pretty about my voice in that recording, unlike the first time I recorded that song with out the band. The conversation prompted thoughts from the band... I'd go more into it, but I can't just now. It was a confirmation of something else unsettling in my life...
I called up Frank in a tizzy after hearing all this come out. I would have called Johnny but he was with Amber. He doesn't like talking much on the phone, and I just couldn't see having that conversation with him just then, as much as I wished we could. So Frank was excited for me. I said "I know it's gunna be late, but can I please stop by after?" I really didn't wanna be that high (on life mind you, though we did have a couple bottles of wine in the studio...) alone. He graciously agreed and I went over after. When he opened the door he had his guitar on and he was picking. I said "hi!" with a huge smile, and he began playing "Full Throttle" one of the other songs I recorded. I was so surprised he'd found the song, listened, and learned it. It was incredibly faltering. So we drank vodka which he'd also thoughtfully bought for me, and I gushed endlessly about every stupid detail til I blacked out half a bottle of vodka in. He was exactly what I needed after that kind of day. To be around someone. Not to come home to a fucking empty house, alone.
Came home later on when I was ok and crawled into bed, hoping not to have a hangover today cuz I needed to be up to finish studio stuff. But I managed to have some tears anyway. I'm still wondering the whys I guess. I wonder if you ever don't do that. The liquor was a major player in the cry fest though, as I don't cry much these days unless I go home after drinking and the dark and silence and emptiness greet me. I haven't fought off that demon yet, though as I'm coming to terms with some truths about myself I realized what my major trigger is: Loneliness. It's a bitch. And I can't talk to anyone about it at 5am.
I also don't think people realize how truly lonely I am. I like my own time. I like my own company. But it has to be limited. Which is why I'm really nervous about this next revelation:

I'm moving back to Whidbey island. This is not good news. The house is fucking BEAUTIFUL. It's quiet. It has a view of the water. It is 2 levels so I won't disturb my Dad. But it is a boat ride and a 15 minute drive more to anything that matters to me here. Which means when I'm out there and can't just call up Frank, or hit up O Fins when I'm feeling an episode coming on. The band stuff in the morning, I've just added an hour to my commute. Getting a job out there is impossible.
So why am I doing this?

Because I can NOT stand to see my Father hurt anymore here. I can not see him depressed as all hell, and feel like he wants to kill himself. He never says this to me of course, but I have been there. I know exactly what he's thinking.
If someone had taken the 15 year old me and said "I can move you to a place you want to be (at that time here or Orlando) in a house you'll love, in a setting you'll appreciate with all the important things in your life, would you take it?" I would have said hell yes in a second flat and done it. So... I'm gunna do that for my Dad. I love him that much. I'm going to walk right into something I know can torpedo everything that makes me happy about my life because it will make him happy. Because that's what love is. I don't think it will be bad for the first month maybe. And I'm hoping in that amount of time I can make a plan to do what I have to do before I get too depressed or crazy to do anything about it.
But I am apprehensive even thinking about it.
When I talked to Frank about it he said why do you have to go? You're a grown woman, do what you want. And I said it's not that simple when you're sick. I rely on him for a few things I can't sustain on my own until I'm better. And umm, I'm not getting better.
With Johnny when I said it he said nothing. I said do you have any thoughts on the matter? He said we'll figure it out.
That makes me nervous too because having to be there longer will invade his private time and space and such. He's not really into asking me for more time as I've said. And the few times it's happened I've stayed longer, it hasn't felt ok.
I wish we could be around each other more. I wish he wanted it more. I wish I didn't know his truest feelings without him saying anything but by reading his actions and body language. I wish I could lie to myself because it would pacify me.
Everything is fucking changing again, and while I embrace change this one intimidates me. And saddens me. But we can't always be selfish. And it's my Dad's turn to be happy.

In other news yesterday when I woke up at Johnny's (before day one in the studio) I was having a dream about being suffocated. I was in a room at a party and I couldn't breathe. I saw Chris standing in the doorway though. He never said a word. I awoke to a full on asthma attack. My worst ever. I tried to just breathe for a few minutes because I didn't want to leave J early but I realized I was losing that battle and more quickly than I liked. So I gathered up my things, and began walking to my car. I called my Mom because I was unsure of what to do. My inhaler was 30 minutes away, and frankly I couldn't even remember if I had one anymore that worked. She insisted that I go immediately to the nearest E.R. I tried between shallow breaths to tell her I didn't have time to be there for 3 hours while they fucked around. I HAD to be in the studio. Nothing mattered more to me. We called back and forth and finally about the time I reached Shoreline I gave in and realized I was starting to get light headed and was not only putting me in danger but other drivers at that point if I passed out, and my brain had been deprived of decent oxygen for a good forty five minutes already. So I called my Dad to find a hospital near there. There wasn't one. I was closer to the possible inhaler at home than to a hospital so I made the decision to head home. When I got here I was shaking, faint and seriously wondering if I was gunna make it. My breathing was shallow, and quick, and I was desperate at the thought of finding the inhaler which, ha ha, was not in the bathroom where it usually is.

I began to cry (I know twice in two days. Forgive me, this was out of complete and utter desperation and not cuz I'd been drinking) and fell to the ground. I grabbed my phone ready to dial 911 when I realized the inhaler was probably in my room in my side dresser. Thankfully it was. Waiting to see whether the inhaler would help was ten seconds I'd rather not live again. But thankfully after a third try I began to breathe again. I sucked in air like it was going out of style. I coughed and sputtered and came back to life.

My mother gave me the best lecture I've ever had about NOT going to the ER. Hah. This from someone who used to tell me I wasn't sick when I was. I really, honestly should have. I ignored the clinic when I had the bad reaction to the meds about the EKG thing. I figured I'd pull through. This one I very nearly could have not come back from. I was headed for coma city right then. It's ok to call in sick to work if you have to. You only call in dead to the studio. I didn't have time for the hospital and their games. So I slept it off a little then got up and did exactly what I had to do. And I'm glad because it was such an amazing and validating feeling. As a lyricist, a songwriter, a musician, and orchestrator.

So now I'm home after seeing Frank again. We went and saw Capitalism: A Love Story and talked politics the rest of the night. It was fun. We made dinner and then watched Fahrenheit 9/11 and I came home to write this, another long entry. Now I'm worked up after being up for 22 hours. I don't WANT to take a Xanie tonight, but I must I think. Ambien in 3 days. This is usually hell week for me, but with the Xanax I've been so blessed to have something in between.
Anyway, that's the latest. Johnny's got a show on Thursday and we'll see how it goes. I've talked to Summer a few times, and we're gunna get together later this week. Bevin and I caught up. And... yeah, bed time.

Night blog.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Dear Broken Heart

Dear broken heart-

You perfectly fucking awful thing. I knew you were lurking before. I felt the twinge of you occasionally on the wind. I know how you love to hang round as soon as I even get a hint that you're coming. The crying. The whys. The questions that never have any fucking answers or closure. You drive me to drink. You drive me to binge. You drive me to fuck others. Are you missing entirely? Is this the problem? That I am completely devoid of a whole heart to begin with that the pieces never fully mend and I can never fully trust? You lead me to the worst things. Love killed me. And Love kills me. Every time, and the only effort it takes is a fucking smile on one boys face. One compliment, one laugh, one perfect moment and you sit there. Ready to fucking ruin it for me. You put on the songs that make me it worse because you are masochistic, and drowning in it drives me closer to the edge. Where some day accidentally or possibly intentionally it won't hurt anymore. You win too often. This fucking russian roulette. I dare you to give yourself the way you once did. You won't survive. So what then? What the fuck then am I to do I ask you? You impulsive shit. You heart, you give it away so easily desperately seeking some sort of love you have been denied at every turn. With family. With friends. And of course, more deeply, with lovers. Hit and run.

You know what's fucked up heart? You play the game well. You make the men fall like cards. Even when you are out with the one you love, you can attract the ones that you can inevitably break, just as you've been broken. What is it I asked Dean. He said "there's something about you. Your energy. Being around you is like being alive. Living in the moment." I guess I'm intoxicating. But shit, that's only when I don't care. I start to feel anything remotely deeper than attraction and it all goes out the window. I become complacent. I want to please. I avoid conflict. And I secretly hope someday one I feel for asks me what I want. What makes me happy. Who I am. You know who I am? Someone who's past is a broken movie. There's being really young til about ten. The years I can find childhood. Those years mean something. Then past ten I broke. Men broke me. My mother broke me. My school mates broke me. I can not think of one moment, not one, where I was truly happy. The years run together. I try to forget. I drug to numb. I drink to forget. I cut to pacify. I learned lying is your friend. Lie about the abuse. Lie about how you feel. Lie to impress because no one fucking likes you anyway.

Without those years I miss a huge chunk of who I am. I stopped taking pictures of myself. I stopped trying. I lived those cruel moments over and over. The knife to my neck. The feel of the forceful hands upon me. Over my mouth. Killing the inside of me in one swift act of violation. Then the cruel notes in my locker. The failed attempts at rebellion. Then I reached out. Alastair led me to believe maybe he could teach me to trust, to love again. But he was the first in the string of men that had me because I was convenient. I am more than that dammit. I know I am. But here I feel you. Choking me. I can not breathe for the pain.

I can not write any more to you heart. Not tonight. You need to do what you can to protect yourself. Pay attention to the warning signs. Be smarter. But time is the only thing that helps this. So I ask you this: Someday, do you think you can give yourself away, and have someone give the same to you? Not convenient. Not cheating. Not a filler. Really give. If the answer is no then perhaps you should stop. Because really, this broken feeling... There are no words. Let this be a lesson to you.


Friday, September 18, 2009

Karaoke Hate Mail

Welcome to post 150. I suppose I have a lot to say about my life most times...

Last Saturday Johnny and I went to Game Works downtown and we had an absolute blast. We played air hockey and fighting games. We played shooters and pinball. We had a little dinner and a drink and then bar hopped. We ended at karaoke at The Crescent, reminiscent of my birthday one of my favorite days with him. I sang some Bon Jovi and I guess I did well at it because the kj bought me a drink and asked me to do a Heart song. They didn't have the Heart song I wanted so I sang "Black Velvet" instead.
When I got called back up again Shane, the host said "now what song is this?" I looked at the slip and written on it said
Fuck you

I said "I didn't write that. Look at what it says!" He read it and covered his mouth. I smiled and said "can I still sing?" He said yes and asked what I wanted. I did Evanescence as per my usual. He came out and had a cig with Johnny and I and we giggled about it. I was drunk enough I found it nothing but funny. Johnny being eternally cute filled in a new slip that said
She's wonderful

Or something like that. I never actually saw the slip. But it was a sweet gesture. We went home after and actually talked for awhile about spirituality and other things. Then we went to bed.

In other news Johnny's bassist is Gar. Gar's ex girlfriend Summer and I never got along before. I think I wrote about attending her birthday party and needing to have a conversation with her about what happened. She flipped me off and was rude and dragged Amber away from me whenever we were dancing or anything. I was so upset because I figured she was the epitome of one of the things that were already bugging me about Johnny and I. Johnny's friends it seemed has all these walls up about me. I felt I was going into something I was already losing. I had a lot of anger about it. Well, I ran into Summer somewhere unexpected last week and we had a long talk about what was going on and why and what our perspectives were. We spent a good deal of the night talking. She took me by the arms at one point and said "I think we're gunna be really great friends." I smiled and nodded, though at the time I wasn't sure whether she was being sincere. I believe now that we've spent more time together she was.
We hung out and had a sleepover one night, and we went out to the Mecca yesterday. She's a really loud, fun, amazing person. She's a tough girl, but we talked a lot about her past and I understand why she is the way she is. How she feels about Gar. She drew the icon for Johnny's band. We spent some time doing art on our sleepover.
She came out to the practice space at Studio Seven one day too. I'm hoping we can get together again this weekend though she may be busy. I feel like I can talk to her if I have to. And I have about one topic. But I haven't really voulenteered much about myself yet. As again, I usually don't. But I can see being in her life for a good long time. We have some shit in common.

Spent the day at Johnny's in bed, sick again. I think the stress is making it worse. I had a headache, was sick to my stomach, shakey, it was all bad dude. It wasn't a hangover or anything. I have another dr apt on Wed before I leave town.

Johnny and I and I suppose Amber are going to the Manic Street Preachers concert on Monday. I say suppose because I'm not sure if we're all going together, or if Gar is coming or what. I don't know if it's a standing thing because even though I kept asking J to go to the venue with me before hand so I could learn the ropes, we never went. I wanted to get to know the staff and stuff too, to figure out the best way to surprise Johnny. But it never came to pass. I may still try and do it tomorrow or the next day. I don't know how I'll be feeling. I have band practice early in the morning, which means when I'm done with this I'm taking my pills. But if I can pull it off, and I'm certain I could have had I had more time or Johnny had been willing to go, it would have been a great thing to accomplish. Maybe it can still happen. I'm gunna try.

What else? I finally gave Jon his books back. I'm leaving for Salt Lake again next Thursday, and it'll just be like a long weekend.