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Death Cab To Oblivion

Hey Mike,

I don't even know what that title even means, but I'm listening to DCFC and am having a hard time keeping my head up right now.

Everyone's parents are dying, on top of all of our people dying because...I don't know, we had too much fun? Didn't take good care of ourselves? Didn't follow the rules? 

I don't fucking know, and it's killing me. Everything feels like the fallout from not having made the right choices, and yet, I feel like I am only aware of it because I did live the life like it was a wave to surf - but apparently, I'm a shitty surfer?

Dunno. I watched the Beatles doc that Ron Howard made and am even more fascinated by how fame manifested more than half a century ago, and how its so much the same, and so very different now.

Also, this thing where I keep believing in stuff and it just always never holds up. It never is what I think it is, what I expect it to be. EVER. I mean, I spent my college years secretly hoping Joe Biden would be president...40 years fucking later he finally is and it is almost as painful to experience as having the number one biggest-selling grifter of all grifters in office.

America is not getting better. I'm worried it never will be. Sure, maybe that's how France felt 2000 years ago? all I know is I'm gonna be dead soon, and it's not cool. I want to know what happens in 200 years? Does the planet implode? Do we go out like dinosaurs or is it Mad Max? It feels like Mad Max - makes you wonder how it gets to The Last of Us or whatever. We are in transition as a species I suspect and it hobbles me; I can't stop wondering what will happen next. The through lines seem clear to me, but people seems to think its a fucking joke, or just legit are End Of Days, Fall of Roman Empire-style attitudes.

Or maybe I watched too much Peaky Blinders while high. Hard to say.

In the Beatles doc, they were hashing out how horrible the sound and experience were at Shea Stadium, and that was the biggest reason why they stopped playing.

Now, 60 years later, stadium gigs are the epitome of success, Harry plays to 100, 000 people at Slane or in Latin America, Beyonce just packed CenturyLink with 65K, goddamn Ed Sheeran A SOLO ACT packed almost 80k people in there. Giant stage, a ridiculous sound that sounds good through my open window 4 blocks away.

Fucking science and humans. how is everyone not completely freaking out about how fast time moves?

I know we weren't great, but I wish we'd tried harder. I wish I'd believed in it more, I wish I'd put actual effort into learning to play music, in how to have a relationship, I wish I hadn't just waited for things to sort themselves out.

I wish I'd said yes to Kevin Silence when he asked me to move to play in Dead Silence. I wish I'd stayed behind with Bogdan. I wish I'd done the stage at Bouchon. I wish I didn't hate looking in the mirror, about feeling so ugly all the time.I wish I'd kept doing audio-visual stuff in high school.

Watching my mom decline is not just sad; it's terrifying to me. What the fuck will I do if I forget everything? The memories, especially in this last, most intense decade of all the decades of my life - I've written virtually nothing about. The only record or references are online, the social media, the blogs (this and that other one at diaryland) - I disabled my Twitter account because Elon Musk was the straw - and because I didn't return with my tail between my legs to reactivate - my handle is now being used by some weird rando, and my hilariously candid tweets which date all the way back to the prehistoric internet (well, not really, I mean I was online at Microsoft in 1998 for fucks sake!) and which are part of the only documenting i did are gone. Poof. I've always tried to remember that, and have never really believed that everything will be out there forever, or that it will be easy to find, and lately I think I'm right. Even if there was someone who wanted to know what I was interested in and dealing with in 2008 someday, I honestly don't think they'll find any of the nonsense that I have scattered around the internet like sunflower seed shells.

Jesus: note to self: DO NOT LISTEN TO TRANSATLANTICISM WHILE STONED.    


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