June 8th, 2003 - The Triumphant Return of Metallica

Metallica is a band you either love or hate. There aren't many casual fans of Metallica, and the ones that were probably left after they released Load and Reload. So in true Metallica fashion, they give you St. Anger, an album that'll kick your ass and leave you to decide how you feel about it.

A lot of things have happened to Metallica since they last released a studio album. The depature of bassist Jason Newsted, James Hetfield's rehab stint, and fans, critics, and other musicians publically and privately lambasting the band for their actions against Napster, the release of two rather mediocre albums, and a slew of other things. And Metallica is pissed.

Nobody else in "metal" today is doing what Metallica is doing right now. System of a Down? They have an agenda behind their music. Godsmack? Godsmack has gotten progressively more boring with each record. Disturbed? No. Marilyn Manson? HAHA. He's turned himself into a joke. Nothing in recent years matches the sheer and utter fury of songs like "Frantic" and "My World." Lars Ulrich's machine gun drums and Hetfield's chunky riffs are unrelenting throughout the album. Master of Puppets was a sonic kick in the ass the first time I heard it. St. Anger is it's schizophrenic amphetamine-taking cousin. Can you really compare the two? No. Why did I? I don't know.

This album is blatantly underproduced, running purely on raw emotion. Metallica's aim seems to be to bludegeon you over the head with riff after scorching riff. So there aren't any catchy "Hero of the Day" or "Enter Sandman" type songs on the album. "Sweet Amber" is the most dynamic of them all, and in my opinion makes a better single than the title track. Aside from riffs, the other thing that immediately stands out are Hetfield's vocals, piss, vinegar, and all. He's more shouty this time around, which, though it does get across the emotion, doesn't always make for a good song. The lyrics are far more personal this time around, but some sound as if he wrote them down in 5 minutes, or not at all (KILL KILL KILL at the end of "All Within My Hands"). It distracts from the music, which is the true standout on this disc.

To say St. Anger is a return to form is an understatement. I don't think they could have made this album any time but now. They took their raw energy of old, their new experiences (and newfound perspectives) and put it all together to make one monster of a record. It may be hard to digest at first, but once you do you'll feel a whole lot better and maybe even understand just a bit what it's like to actually BE Metallica.

Update: June 5th, 2003 - More friends

I put Julie's page up today. More to come when I feel ambitious.

Update: May 30th, 2003 - Patterns

I don't know why I'm trying to do this now. I have a horrible headache and I feel like shit, and that usually means I end up posting a bunch of rambling crap. But I'm gonna do it anyways because I don't care.

Everyone has probably heard the phrase "history repeats itself" at some time in their lives. I know, it mainly relates to worldly things like, say, wars and economics. Things that actually matter. But I've noticed that it also repeats itself in things as insignificant as my life. I've noticed that through these past seven years of high school and college, that the more things change, the more things tend to stay the same. I found that I'm on some sort of four year cycle from hell.

Freshman year of high school is a different experience for everyone. It's a new place, new people, a whole new system. It was different for me on two levels, one being that it WAS a new place, but on the other level, I went to a Catholic grade school for eight years. Going to a public school for the first time was a culture shock. Nonetheless, I went in with an insane amount of confidence that things were going to work out alright. I thought I would meet people and have friends and that girls would like me. Most of that didn't happen. I did have a few friends, most of which I don't talk to anymore, and I did have some fun at the end of the year. But it was nothing compared to what I expected going in. Freshman year of college was very much the same thing. It was a place I'd never been to before, and it was a whole new way of living, basically. I thought again that I'd make friends, and that girls would like me. After all, they ARE supposed to be more mature, right? Turns out they're just like high school girls, except they're even more concerned about money and cars, and they're still only looking for a good time. I did meet a lot of people on my floor. It's kind of hard not to considering I lived with 60 other guys that I saw almost daily. But again, I rarely talk to any of them anymore, with the exception of Mick. Overall it was just like freshman year of high school, a big let down.

Sophomore year was pleasantly different. I had a girlfriend. I met people that I could actually get close too. I thought I was having the time of my life. They gave me the confidence to think that life wasn't so bad after all, that things were going to get better. The college year was almost an exact repeat. I found another girlfriend, and a very sweet one at that. I did meet some people too, but that lasted about a semester. But again, my girlfriend Barb made me feel as if everything was alright. That people not liking me, and girls not finding me attractive was all in my head. It felt good to feel wanted all over again. Life was worth living once again.

"And then it all crashes down/and you break your crown/and you point your finger/but there's no one around" is pretty much my junior year of high school and college. I looked that Metallica lyric up by the way, so I wouldn'f get called out for it by Ken. Anyways, yeah, eveything broke down junior year. Girlfriends left me, and probably rightfully so. So that killed any self esteem I had. Though at first it was there, and I thought maybe I could rebound...as usual I didn't. I was just more moody and suicidal then ever. Even this year, with more experience under my belt, I found myself in "one of my moods" more often than I should have been. I got pissed off at nothing more than I should have. Yet, I'm still here.

H.S. senior year I rebounded out of desperation. I dated a girl I didn't really even like or was attracted to. But I don't want to talk about that any more than I have to. So if that's any indication of what my senior year will be like, great. At least it's something, isn't it?

I really don't like to whine about my life, but my mood prevailed and I decided to vent. Thanks for reading if you stuck around for the whole thing.

Update: May 27th, 2003 - Friends

Ken's and Mick's "friends" pages are up, so check them out if you care.

Update: May 22nd, 2003 - A new design

Well I don't have a job currently, so I had to find something productive for me to do. This is all I could come up with.

As usual, I don't have a damn thing to say. But just out of spite I'll keep writing anyways. I got my grades the other day. A A C A. I think I did pretty well for sitting around most of the time in my apartment drinking beer and playing counter-strike.

I think next time I'm gonna write about kitties. I miss my kitty. He was a spiteful bastard just like me so I took it to heart when we had to give him away to a kitty shelter.

It's been 3 weeks or so since I've cut my hair. I'm still out on whether I like it enough to keep it. It still hasn't gotten me any women. Though I suppose that takes effort, something of which I do not possess. Oh well.

Blah blah blah blah you got me. I don't have anything to say. I hate you all.

May 10th, 2003 - Hey-zeus cuts his hair

As usual, I lied about making another update because I was dead tired and didn't feel like doing it. Besides, I wasn't able to go on at length about the Everclear concert a couple of weekends ago. It was pretty good even though they played a short set. We also got our stuff signed (including Mick's guitar) by all three band members. There's a mini-update for you.

Which do you like better?

I haven't cut my hair since last August. At the pestering of my parents, the encouragement of Mick, and possibly the promise of more casual sex, I went on got it done on Friday afternoon. I kind of did it on a whim so I wouldn't talk myself out of it somehow. I know it goes contrary to my spiteful ways to get my hair cut, but I guess it needed to be done. I want girls to talk to me, dammit.

So yeah, I sold out. I didn't do it because I really wanted a change; I could've cared less. I know chicks don't dig the long hair, and neither do places of employment. It sucks, really, but what am I gonna do?

You know it would be my luck that I find a girl somewhere that says long hair and facial hair are turn-ons. In that case, I'd probably tell her to go fuck herself and be back at the place I started from.

I would write about the party/bar scene last night, but there was nothing to write about. Mick was excited to "show me off." A lot of good that did. I got a few compliments, mostly from people I know. I may have gotten looks from more girls (which means one or more) but I wasn't really counting or caring. Mick ditched me and I walked home.

The kitty sleeping on a plant.
May 2nd, 2003 8:03AM - Pointless Meanderings Disguised as a Web Page Update (Part 2)

As I watched the poor saps walk to class this morning at around 7:40AM, I wondered, "gee, I haven't updated my page in a while." Actually, I've been thinking that a long time now. My mind isn't exactly coherent at the moment because I stayed up all night for no reason. Actually there was part of a reason: my dumbass of a roommate decided to forget about some rice he was cooking. It burnt to a crisp and made the entire apartment smelly and smoky. Then to top things off he wanted to cool the pot down for some reason or another, so he ran water under it FOR 15 MINUTES. The kitchen floor was flooded with water, which he had to mop up, so he had to put the kitty in the bedroom, preventing me from laying down after my radio show. After it was about 4am, I said "fuck it" and just pulled an all-nighter. Dumb. I know.

Normally, something like that would piss me off. I mean I did, after all, spend the last night mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors, scrubbing the oven top, and doing the dishes. So when he made it dirty all over again I should've been upset. But I wasn't. Besides, he brought me home 3 boxes of chicken from KFC that I'll never eat.

As I went to get my coffee so I could stay awake these two hours at work, I noticed a lot of studious people working on homework. I was amazed to know that college students got up this early in the morning to actually be productive. What's wrong with them?

You know I'm not proud of much. Most of any praise I get on my writing I just kind of toss off after awhile. I don't believe anyone who says I'm cute or a "good guy." My biggest accomplishment of the last few weeks has been the "boobies" photoshop in the post below this one. But I've discovered another reason to be proud just last night. Apparently, Mick's new hottie told him that our apartment is the dirtiest apartment she's ever been in. Ever. I think I'm at a loss for words. And he just knew I'd say "Good!" to that, too, which is what he told her I'd say. I really wish we had Photoshop at work so I could whip up an award for myself.

I think that's enough for now. I'll be back later tonight when I'm awake to update on what happened last weekend with the Everclear concert, the drunken debauchery, and the fire that rocked Whitewater. Until then, have a good day.

April 20th, 2003 - The Continuing Adventures of Prep School Johnny and Grunge Kid Gary?

I was recently given access to this picture (NSFW) that was taken a few hours before the ill-fated "Be Your Own Superhero" party. I'm not aware of who took the picture, it was sent to me by an anyonymous reader of the website. I also don't know if anything happened between Prep School Johnny and the flasher known only as "Kim." But considering this is Johnny we're talking about here, you can be sure he got to at least second, if not third base with the girl.

As for Grunge Kid Gary, he has been writing some pretty bad poetry lately. The bar scene has disenchanted him further from mainstream society, and being Prep School Johnny's roommate doesn't help any, what with his "pimping of two ho's" as of late.

We've recently re-discovered the genius that is the TV show "The Family Guy." It's the funniest thing on TV since Seinfeld as far as I'm concerned. I don't even think South Park holds a candle to it; this show is far more wacked than the champions of dick and fart jokes. Seasons 1 and 2 are out on DVD, and if this poor boy had some extra cash lying around he'd go out and order it. Until then, I'll be downloading various episodes, and you should be too.

Nothing else is going on in the posh palace that is University Inn. No wild parties, no cute girls. And no potential threesomes either. Something has to give, before I go and write another trite song about how much I hate everybody. On Friday, April 25th, the best post-grunge band on the face of the earth will be gracing this shithole of a town to perform a show in the Williams Center Gym. If you haven't guessed it already, that band is Everclear. Bow down to their superiority unless you want Prep School Johnny to come over and stick recently finished bottles of Smirnoff Vodka up your ass and talk you to death about his sexcapades with beautiful, easy women (and men). We will be making an appearance at the concert, so if you'd like to see the egomaniac and his loyal manservant/tortured, sullen genius, show up at the concert. We'll be right up front.

That's it for now. Next time I'll write about one of the following: The patterns I've noticed in my life, or how male and female kitty kats are just like their human counterparts. If you have a preference e-mail me. If not, screw you.

April 12th, 2003 - The Adventures of Prep School Johnny and Grunge Kid Gary

Unlike the night before, when we were supposed to go to a party, except that there was none...last night's excursion into the heart of Whitewater went off without a hitch. For some reason or another, theme parties seem to be en vogue right now, at least here. Last night's theme was "Be your own superhero." There were some people there that actually dressed up in capes and the like, most of them guys.

The Trojan Man.

Mick and I decided to go in the other direction, in that we didn't dress as superheroes, but instead made our own "everyman" personas. He was Prep School Johnny, I was Grunge Kid Gary.

The funny thing about our costumes was that we didn't have to go out of our ways to dress up. Either of us can be seen in the clothes we wore on any given day. Sure, we both put on some special touches - his sweater over the shoulders, and my hair made to look like it hadn't been combed in three weeks. But for the most part we looked like two regular guys.

What we lacked in clothes we made up in personality. Prep School Johnny walked around like he was cooler than everyone, socializing with people like it was nothing (it really is nothing for him), and I was my normal surly self, the tortured genius standing by himself against the wall. I also pulled double duty as Johnny's loyal manservant; I got him beers on a couple occasions.

The lovely ladies of the A-Team.

The party itself was uneventful. It started off on the odd note that we got there early and almost no one was there. And shortly after we arrived Sarah (with an H!) dropped a 24oz. bottle of Smirnoff Triple Black, splattering glass and kool-aid liquor everywhere. There were plenty of women there, fresh-faced youth looking for beer and a good time. None of them dug Grunge Kid Gary, all of 10 years late and in the wrong part of the country. But that's alright, I had a good time watching other people dance and occasionally bopping my head to the rare rock song ("Bleed American," "Wrong Way") while the hotties looked away.

After the A-team left, both because the party was tapped and because some of them were under 21, which isn't good if there are rumors of cops floating around, we stayed back to drink a little more and dance. Well, Johnny danced. I could see the blatant disinterest on the girls' faces. However, Mick didn't end up coming home with the long cool women I saw him with (at a distance, at his orders), so all is well.

When we got home, Johnny went right to bed. I stayed up to hear a drunken message on my answering machine from one Richard Kraut. Blasted out of his mind, he told me I could come over and have a drink, which I did. We ended up coming back here because we were being loud and drunken, and he passed out on the futon, only to be woken up by the cold and the kitty molesting him.

In the end, I suppose the night was better than me just sitting here playing counter-strike and whining to people how alone I am.

April 6th, 2003 - Bar scene worthy of an update

Mark this on your calendars because it might never happen again...this is the third day I've updated in a row.

I should really get around to taking my roommate's digital cam down to The Downstairs so I can give you readers an idea of what my "usual hangout" looks like. It would've come in quite handy last night.

For some reason or another I was standing near the dance floor for a large portion of the night. I guess it wasn't so bad; I was 2 for 3 on requests. They played Nappy Roots - Awnaw (Mick requested that for me) and DMX - Party Up. So I was kind of enjoying the music, kind of despising it. For example, if I have to hear Snoop Dogg's "Beautiful" one more time, I'm going to kick somebody in the junk.

All of my conversations with women undoubtedly end up with some variation of this picture.

Anyways, the fateful song that made this worthy of an update came on. I'm not making this up. Boys 2 Men - Motown Philly. Yes, 1992 is alive and well in Whitewater. And yeah, I think that's also the song that Stephanie from Full House danced to in one episode. I might be wrong though. But I'm drifting off the course here... The song came on, and for some reason I was actually out there. I commented to my roommate that I was embarrassed to know the song. Like embarrassed that I knew the words. A girl, who was actually kind of cute, turned to me (she was dancing with her friends) and asked "You're embarrassed? It's Boys 2 Men! FUCK YOU! 1992 rules!" You read that correctly, she said FUCK YOU while flipping me off. And you wonder why I don't talk to girls. Of course, just because I don't know when to keep my mouth shut, I added "Yeah, 1992 ruled...for Nirvana." She went "Pfft," showed me the hand, and that was it. I wasn't really drunk at that point, but I didn't care.

After the bar closed, we went to an after-bar party where I successfully broke my world's record of beers consumed in one night. The record now stands at 11. But before the night ended, there was this girl there, also cute, but also taken. Apparently, she's nothing but bad news...but my she tried dancing with my roommate, and he got kinda close, so she says "that's too close" and I was right there, so I made a comment like "what the hell are you doing?" Well shit, she tried to get up in my face, and then called her boyfriend (a big black man) to talk to me. He didn't really care, he was all smiles. But once again, I was basically told to fuck off by her. Later, I shared my last cigarette with her outside because I'm an idiot. Maybe she'll pay me back with a blow job.

I had to walk Mick home after the whole ordeal. The bastard couldn't see, couldn't walk like a normal human being. It was pretty funny except for the fact I had to hold on to him the whole way home. That's the end of my night. I didn't get home 'til sometime after 4:30am...I'm quite hungover as I'm writing this. So if the quality sucks, you know why.<