04: Music that doesn't sound like music

Moonlight maybes and cryin' babies. You can fake it if it please you, if you feel you need to.

It's been a crazy day. It was crazy even before it began.

Pleasantly modestly inebriated after a night at Monaghan's watchung UFC with Chris Ferg, RyLai, Jas, BK and Karlyn Saturday night. I'm not so into UFC that I need to go and watch their PPVs whenever they're on (to be honest the only fighter I really care about is Lesnar, because Ryan really hates him and I think that's funny) but I am a fan of having a night out. I have to enjoy it while I can since I am pretty much resigned to the fact that I'm bound to Oakville for another year.

I still don't know how I feel about that. I was weighing the pros and cons with Chris as we were walking home last night, and I came back to the same facts I keep pointing out here - I've got it pretty good. I don't have to go live in a shitty basement apartment to prove a point about myself when I can live in a decent one for cheaper.

Confession: Part of me is totally convinced that my living situation is the entire reason I don't get satisfaction. Were I to move out and continue to be a failure with women ("the ladies" as my innumerable platonic female friends say,) the emotional toll on my ego would be devastating.

So anyway, at the end of that generally enjoyable but overall uneventful night (during which I made good on a longstanding bet that left me owing Ryan a drink) I fell asleep in my warm, cozy bed and had some weird goddamn dreams.

The first, extremely vivid one, amounted basically to me planting plastic explosives in an elevator at the CN Tower, for what reason we may never know. And then my dad caught me, subtly revealed he knew what I had done, and told me he hated me for it. Even in a dream, it hurts when your parent tells you something like that. Although considering I had just committed an act of terrorism, I think it's understandable.

I was then awoken by the crash of thunder. It was storming fiercely outside. It was about 7 AM at this point, so I buried my face under the covers and forced myself back to sleep. The second dream, though vivid and provocative, was a lot less easy to describe. It involved some kind of graduation ceremony. A ton of people from my past, like my Grade School best friend Drew, were there, as were more recent acquaintances like Kat and/or Erika. People were drifting in and out and making references to this video of me dancing on Facebook, which would probably be embarrassing to me, but I think I might be beyond embarrassment at this point in my life.

I woke up around noon as the storm was passing. It was a good, relaxing day. The theme of the weekend was relaxation, since I am completely free of the bonds of school for only a few weeks. I'm savoring it by wasting it. Eventually, I went over to Chris Ferg's to do some writing on the Subway play, although it wasn't a terribly productive day. Well, we're not really a productive bunch of guys. We talked about some of our issues with the project as-is, then made dick jokes for about an hour. Then we wrote nine or ten lines of dialogue and called it an afternoon.

There is other stuff to discuss, but to be honest it would go against the carefree attitude of this entry. After a generally humid day (perfect pool weather, wish I had one. I'd forgotten what summer was actually supposed to be like) the storm returned with a vengeance. I sat out front playing DS for a while until it just got too apocalyptic. Fun night.

I've got to do some drawing. I also need to stay up late (which is of course not late for me) to watch Entourage because The Movie Network (actually HBO Canada) thought it would be funny to freeze up during the entire broadcast, and I really like that show. Also, bought Flight of the Conchords season 2. A while back, at Alyssa's birthday, I got into a discussion with some of her friends about that season, and they thought the material was not as strong. I'd agree, because the first season was of course brilliant, but what they provided for season 2 was, in general, songs that had better context within the episodes themselves, some of which were on par with the best of season 1 (the exception not the rule.) It's hard, however, to argue with the brilliance of "Sugalumps" (in the mode of Black-Eyed Peas) and "You Don't Have To Be a Prostitute" (as good or better than Roxanne) or the awesome West-Side Story lift "Stay Cool" that exists side-by-side with the Biz Markie-esque "Hurt Feelings." Or the dynamite folk-pop "Carol Brown" coming on the heels of the fiery "Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor." Indeed, I would say that although not as fresh as season 1, the writing was often a bit sharper in season 2, and that the songs blended a bit better with the episodes. I might still prefer season 1, but I'll be deriving a great deal of pleasure re-watching season 2.

Okay, that feels like sufficient rambling tonight. Keep on rockin'
-Scott