i don’t believe in disposable

i feel guilty about every god damned thing i put in the garbage so it’s not surprising that i loathe stuff like disposable cups.


the sign of both a good party and a whole fucking lot of waste

red solo cups particularly raise my ire because of the association between them and good times, and that fucking toby keith song. it bothers me a great deal that we enjoy and even take pride in doing something that ultimately ends in throwing tons more plastic waste into landfills, oceans, sidewalks, etc. we should be ashamed of such waste, not writing pop-country songs about it. besides, why can’t people use normal fucking cups at parties? at burning man, everyone who wants a drink at any bar has to bring their own drink container. i find a lot of burning man incredibly annoying but that’s a practice i can get behind 100%.

coffee cups are similar. there is less plastic involved with them, which is good, but they’re way worse in the aspect that far more of them are consumed every day by habitual morning coffee drinkers who are too lazy to bring a god damn mug from home. as if they’re too busy to wash a mug each evening.


you’ve got a lot going on, too much to bother worrying about deforestation and the great pacific garbage patch.

i’ve also been getting pissed about all the fucking non-recyclable bags that most of our food comes in, too. it’s all that crinkly silver shit that goes straight in the trash. i wish more companies would start using reusable, recyclable, or at least compostable bags. i won’t hold my breath for that though, not until more people start making a stink about it.

this stuff actually bugs me so much that when jenn and i saw the cure at an outdoor show in vancouver late last spring, i had a hard time relaxing and enjoying being there because i kept noticing ridiculous, redundant waste. for instance, i bought a 7up from a vendor and rather than give me the can, they poured it into — guess what — a red solo cup. so in addition to the aluminum can, there was now also this fucking cup that had to be dealt with. furthermore, there were virtually no recycling facilities at the venue, so all the cans and cups just went in the trash. god, i’m getting depressed even writing this. what sort of a promoter in this day and age wouldn’t have adequate drink container recycling at an event where you know people are going to be guzzling beers? so every time i looked and saw a weak-chinned or bloated goth (or ‘dark rocker’ as i started calling them)…


this is what i found most cure fans looked like, hence the ‘dark rocker’ term rather than ‘goth’

…i was distracted from the fun, good elements of the experience. i realized i will probably never be able to enjoy a typical festival atmosphere again. what a bummer.

we are colossally wasteful.


devour planet and move on.


the impending summer of satan

jenn and i like going on big summer road trips. one of my fave memories of our many trips is not of a place or activity but a weird feeling i experienced one year when i read robert nye’s faust while on vacation. it’s a great book and really affected me — i felt happy and good about summer and all the fun things we were doing, like exploring forests and small towns and lakes and various sights, but there was also a feeling of dread, of fear, interlaced with all those good times and pleasant vibes because of faust. it really added a strange and fascinating dimension to the trip for me. it was like the specter of the devil and all intangible evil cast a shadow over all the wholesomeness of our summer fun.

and i loved it.


good book. i recommend it. even jenn liked it.

it was because of this experience that i recently ventured into russell books with benjamin (sorry if that tidbit gets you divorced, benny). i was in search of well-written dark books to enjoy on upcoming road trips. not stephen king “and then the vampire swooped down and said lunch time as he bit her lovely milk-white neck” stuff. i wanted stuff that was more multidimensional and less goofy and stupid — more stuff like faust. so i described my impossibly specific tastes to an enthusiastic russell books employee who did a fantastic job of recommending and finding copies of all kinds of suitable things i’m excited to read. ben also did a quick search on his phone for ‘best satanic books’ and came up with some more good suggestions. i walked out of there with five novels, sure to ruin my summer perfectly.


it’s going to be a goth summer. these guys look like cenobites from hellraiser. christ, can you imagine wearing all that pleather and PVC in the heat? i bet they stink under there.

and now i can’t wait for the next road trip. offsetting all the fun with a bit of spiritual desolation makes the overall experience much more emotionally and psychologically stimulating. it means i can have lots of fun with my wife, exploring natural wonders and swimming and hiking and whatnot, but also feel a little terrified for the safety of my soul or spirit. it’s a wonderful balance.

maybe if jenn was down to listen to akercocke and voices on the trip, i wouldn’t need to read these books to get my dose of satanism and misanthropy. that will never happen though so i’m glad i’ve got this plan B sorted out well ahead of time. there is no way i’m leaving evil at home on this road trip.

mud people

i’m dying.

not any quicker than usual or anyone else. i just like to ruminate on the fact. and not because of any goth tendencies. in fact it’s because of quite the opposite, and very hippie dippy: i think death can be a beautiful thing.

Fantastic scene of happy children running and playing carefreely on green meadow in nature

“hurry tommy, it’s almost time for us to exit this mortal coil”

i think about all that great cycle shit, how plants and crap grow from dirt and water, we eat them to sustain ourselves, and eventually we die, decay, and also become dirt and water. i like to think about my body becoming the soil that will grow corn or trees or whatever, that parts of me will be in those plants, that animals will eat those plants made from me, that parts of me will become become parts of those animals or be shat out to become dirt again and give rise to more plants and feed more animals, and on and on. i won’t be recognizable but the tiny particles that make up my brain, bones, and meat will continue on in these various other incarnations. i think that’s incredible.


we probably believe some of the same stuff, but she’s a whack job.

we get really focused on us and our problems — i want to go on nice vacations, these red peppers are too expensive, i don’t want to do this fucking online course —  but in the big picture, none of that junk matters. sometime in the not so distant future, we will disperse and become part of the earth and all the myriad things on it. that inspires a real sense of grand unity in me, a sense of oneness that is based in reality rather than the incoherent ramblings of some incense- and chime-cloaked hipster yoga dipshit driving a sporty mini cooper. and i like that.

and looking at the even bigger picture, when this planet is eventually swallowed by our sun, all the dirt and plants and animals will turn to ash and dust and likely scatter throughout space, or get sucked into a blackhole, or something along those lines, and end up becoming part of something else. that’s amazing! so i like that too. all that ‘we are stardust’ nonsense isn’t nonsense after all.

and that’s why i like death.

living is great too. i’m having a good ol’ time. i’m just not too worried about what comes after.


“he tastes like shit.”
“yeah but he’s content.”


always make lemonade

a few weeks ago i met a 50-ish yr old guy who had basically lost everything — all his money, his house, his wife. he was totally depressed and at a loss as to what he could do to turn his life around.

i’ve thought before that if i wound up in a similar position, i hope that i would be able to see the positive aspects of my situation. if i were that guy, i think it would be a great time to say “fuck owning a house, fuck the job i’ve had for 30 years, fuck my ex-wife. i’m going on a road trip for the rest of my life.” what a great excuse to try living like a nomad. there are so many towns i’ve never heard of that i’d love to wander through and maybe spend some time in if it felt right, so many unexpected experiences i’d be excited to happen across. i could work odd jobs here and there so i could eat and keep a vehicle on the road, sleep in the car, sleep in a tent, whatever. or find my way into the wilderness somewhere and learn to live off the land. whatever. the thing is, if your situation changes drastically, it may be necessary to radically change your goals and expectations in order to reach them, feel successful, and ultimately be happy. if you’re not able to do that, you’re going to be fucking miserable.

i don’t care if that sounds like a lame ‘always look on the bright side’ outlook. i think it’s a real asset to be able do that, especially with situations that a lot of people might wilt at. despite what my wife might tell you, i think i’m pretty darn positive. at least, i am when things are shitty.

maybe i just like shitty situations. maybe i’m not actually being positive, maybe i just relish being unhappy so much that it makes me happy.

such a goth.

big box shopping, hating life

the other day i went to home depot for the second time in my life. it sucked. the people that work there all look like people who do their own renos and home mainetance — men with moustaches, that kind of thing — but of course they’re fucking useless when it comes to actually helping customers in the store. one sad bastard was slinking away with his little cart as i called to him, and it took him long enough to swing his low-hanging head around that i had wondered if he was pretending he didn’t hear me. he made it very clear very quickly that he couldn’t help me. i’d hate working there too but guess what, i’d find a different job then.


this is pretty much who ‘helped’ me at home depot

next, i went to best buy to find a pair of headphones so i can do some home recording without driving jenn insane. the first thing i noticed before walking in was the parking lot was full of crappy teenager sports cars, like beat up acuras and civics with stickers all over them. that actually really captured the overall vibe of the store: all the people working there were overgrown kids, loser scum adults who spend a lot of time ‘gaming’ — lots of bad dye jobs on the chubby quasi-goth/gamer girls, and the boys are skinny acne-ridden basement dweller rodents.

but what bothered me the most was all the displays for various crap and how they tried to reflect cooler, more active, more attractive versions of the potential buyers back at themselves. like, “you’re cool. you’re tough. you’ve got an attitude. you live a wild life. you’re just like this beautiful person, and that’s why you need these headphones.”


coooool, someone has finally designed headphones for crazy, badass chicks like me

i know that that’s basically what all ads are like but there was something about these ones that really bothered me. i think it was the fact that these degenerate losers both working and shopping at best buy might actually think they’re cool to start with — despite the busted, shitty cars; the horrible, sad jobs; the basement dwelling; the countless hours spent playing video games; the gross unhealthy bodies…maybe they don’t know, maybe they can’t see how disgusting and pathetic they are.

but here’s the worst part. the headphones i bought don’t fit my giant head. so i have to go back to best buy to return them.

somewhere, the patron saint of degenerate loser trash is laughing at me.

summer starts tomorrow but i’m ready to pull the plug on it today

jenn and i are going on a big road trip at the end of the summer and it’s going to be awesome. we’re going to head east to the rockies and see some shit there, visit friends along the way, then see dinosaur bones and hoodoos in alberta, then head down to montana and wyoming to see glacier and yellowstone national parks, then head back west through idaho and washington. we’re going to see and do so much awesome stuff, that i just want to sleep through all of this bastardly hot weather and get to the pleasantly warm, feel-good sunsets of september.

i think i made almost the same post last year. here it is. i basically bitched about how i get so pumped for the end of summer that i want to hurry through it, even if i’m having a great time in it. so far this one is going the same way. we’ve done a few nice summer things with friends so far and haven’t even gotten into the bowels of the season yet. i’m sure it’s going to be another great one…

…but that road trip at the end of it and all the dried up little ghost towns and golden light  and wicked sights and the general children of the corn-vibe is going to be the highlight of summer, no doubt.

oh no. i’m getting my hopes up. that’s a bad sign. i better rein it in before i end up coming home disappointed and blogging about what a shitty letdown the trip was.

i guess it will be ok, maybe. i don’t know. probably not.

i’m so embarrassed that i used to like nightwish

nightwish is a super shitty finnish ‘metal’ (i use the term very, very loosely here) band. about 15 years ago, i heard their version of the gary moore song, ‘over the hills and far away,’ and really liked it. then i checked out their album, oceanborn, and liked it too. i mean, they always had an embarrassing “i’m a passionate poet” aspect to them, but there was lots of great music to make up for it. here is oceanborn.

it has tons of power metal, classic metal, and progressive metal elements to it, so the operatic vocals didn’t sound terrible to me. they were just a new twist on other tried and true metal styles.

then i checked out everything else by them, and it’s all sucked.

the album before oceanborn sounds immature, unprofessional, like the band was still obviously growing. and virtually everything nightwish has released after oceanborn is 100% disney metal. no joke, it’s usually about the beauty and the beast, angels coming to life, magical worlds, that sort of thing. christ, it’s like they’re making heavy metal aimed at a 3-8 yr old demographic, except it’s not aimed at a 3-8 yr old demographic. it’s just what they like to do, and that level of sulky goth-ness makes me sick.

also, all of their songs since oceanborn sound EXACTLY THE SAME. for any aspiring disney metal artists out there, i’ve broken down the formula for you. here it is:

  • pretty keyboard intro
  • guitar and bass and AC/DC drum beat come in, everyone acts like it’s super heavy
  • guitar and keyboards drop out — just bass, vocals, and AC/DC drums during the first verse
  • guitar and keyboards come back in for chorus
  • repeat verse, this time with some subtle keyboards or guitar for added tension
  • chorus
  • some crappy bridge (anything will suffice, really)
  • move the chorus up a whole tone

that’s it, the secret to nightwish’s success! now every overgrown disney goth can have it!

the main dude behind the band, tuomas holopainen, is unapologetic about his garbage creations. he thinks he’s a great artist, calling his songs “a labor of love, the fruit of dedicated hard work and of the highest quality.” here’s a pic that i think really illustrates the kind of pretentious goth horseshit artist he is.


that makeup, the smirk, the down-turned face, the sparkly scarf, the poor man’s pirates of the caribbean hair and beard…good grief.


and now for the worst parts: i’ve seen nightwish live. and not once, but twice. i know, i’m sorry. the first time in seattle, i had the excuse that i wasn’t too familiar with their post-oceanborn material, and was expecting lots of power-prog metal. i actually don’t think they played ANYTHING from oceanborn at that show despite my screams for it, but they did put on a really good show. then they came to victoria so i went to see them again. this time though, i guess there was lots of turmoil brewing in disneyland and the band was not so enthusiastic. it was a lackluster performance, with none of the awesome songs i wanted, and get this: there was a part in one song where tuomas played by himself, and then at the end of his part, he broke down into tears on stage. as if this particular part of his song was so deeply personal, so intimately connected to his teen goth anguish, that he had to have a good cry, publicly, right there in front of everyone. i almost puked. then to make it worse, the rest of the band came over and hugged him as a show of support! i almost double puked.

and that was the end of me showing any support for nightwish. at this point, i want nothing more of them than tuomas to listen to some more judas priest or iron maiden and get back to making half decent power-prog metal, or else get kicked in the guts by his pet unicorn, rupture his liver, and die of internal hemorrhage. after 15 years of the same song, ceaseless drama with singers, and subsequent public airing of dirty laundry, it simply must end.

i want to close with a great recent quote from my good friend, riley:

“Every time i hear about Nightwish I just listen to South of Heaven again because life is too short.”