Holy shit, it's been a long time since I've updated this thing. Here's my current life, in a nutshell: taking my 2 (almost 3) year-old to the bathroom to piss, getting the shit punched out of my face by him, not being able to sit in my chair and work at getting employed or finish my MBA because he insists on sitting in my lap all day, feeding him, listening to him scream (comes by that one naturally), and watching/waiting for the next immediate change from happy to pissed off in .02 seconds. Yes, he's DEFINITELY my child.
So let's back up a little bit here because I know everyone is just waiting w/ baited breath to see what I've been up to. Dec 12th I attended a Killswitch Engage show in downtown Denver. My brother and I were up to our usual bad habits, and ended up getting way, way, waaaay too drunk before they came onto the stage. I - against my normally better judgement - decided to go down to the floor and watch the show. Like a moth to a flame, the pit found me...and beat the shit out of me. As I was having alcohol-induced inner ear problems, my balance was non-existent. Cut away to this: I got run over, smashed, stepped on...you name it. Cut away again to this: My brother and I lost my car, it was icy and snowing this particular night. We searched, walking around town drunk as fuck, for almost an hour (I think). Add to that the fact that we kept falling on the ice and hitting our elbows, knees, and heads on the pavement - we were not in good shape. Ended up at an all-night diner, where I first noticed that my breathing was labored. Looooong, painful story, short: Two days or so later, I was told that I had 4 or 5 broken ribs, and that I ripped the tendons in my right thumb. This was before feeling the floating piece of chipped bone in my left elbow, and all of the Mrs. Field's cookie sized bruises all over my body. The only words for my condition: FUCKED UP! I'm not sure if you've ever had broken ribs before, but let me tell you that it's probably one of the most painful things I've ever endured...for 8 weeks. Jesus. This is why I know...I KNOW that I'm supposed to start pits from the stage - not engage in them. You would think that I would have learned that in '96, when I needed 15 stitches over my right eye, after attending a Deftones show. Oh well. I never said I made the most wise decisions whilst heavily under the influence.
Let's see, what else has been happening? Christmas came and went this year. We were so broke that we gave people little picture frames w/ current shots of the family in them, so that we could spend what we could on giving the boys as many gifts from Santa as possible. A humbling holiday to be sure. All of Kathy's family visited us from W. Palm Beach, FL - something that has become a bit of a tradition. It's a love/hate affair when they're here. I start to stress out, and make everyone else miserable...that's pretty much the state of affairs. There was really only one blowout this year, and it was resolved quickly the next morning. All in all, a fairly decent holiday. I can always say that after the fact. I'm a glutton for punishment though. It's similar to how I've seen women deal with the pain of childbirth. When they're in the middle of the pain of delivery, they swear that they will NEVER have another child - then after the baby is born they have a beautiful way of forgetting the pain in light of the love...thus the process is repeated. Hopefully everyone is quick enough to follow my analogy. Anyway, it's always nice to have a full house of family during the holidays.
Six weeks ago, I freaked out and had to take a short leave from my MBA courses. It is literally impossible to write 20+ page reports with a 2 year-old boy in the house all the time. I'm not sure how I can accurately explain this...but imagine sitting in your favorite chair or couch...and literally having a child climb all over you...all the time. Add to this, my son's absolute lack of sympathy and compassion for pain that he inflicts (i.e. you get punched, or have him slice a plastic comb down your cheek, as he JUST did while I am writing this...and you say "ouch." That merely pisses him off more, and the cost of your vocal reaction? More toddler-inflicted pain, followed by 30 minutes (literally) of toddler crying. Suffice to say, if I can't get this kid back into daycare - my Master's degree will probably be significantly delayed. Not cool. (Fuck my cheek hurts right now. I think he drew blood this time.)
Blah, blah. I love all three of my boys - regardless. I always bitch, because that's the way I'm incorrectly wired, but without my Kathy and my boys, I'd have no reason to live.
That's enough boohooing, bitching, updating, and revealing what I don't really think I want you to know. Everyday is on rewind - that's my ending thought.
...another update, whenever.
::reality and truth are both destructive::
No, actually - I don't update this very often. Get over it.
Once again, I have a heavy heart. This time it's a bit different, though. My closest friend, my equal, my forever...my brother, is going through a horrible horrible time. My heart breaks. My soul hurts. My best friend, my buddy, my childhood idol is hurting - and there's not a thing in the world that I can do about it. His marriage is on the rocks. For as long as I can practically remember, he and my sister-in-law have been together. It was always "them." Other people's relationships always came and went - but not their's. I'm feeling so crushed. I was the best man at his wedding. I sang at the wedding. Now it's falling apart before me, and quickly. My soul just aches about this. I offer myself to hopefully be a "voice of reason" - but I know it doesn't ring through. It was always them. As a young man, I always looked up to them as the example, the icon of what a true relationship/friendship, and marriage. And now it's slipping away, faster and faster, everyday. Sometimes I think that I know what happened and what is still happening. Then at other times I realize that I have no idea, and that I'm grasping at straws. As my older brother, I've always looked up to him - but this time it's different. I feel that he needs my support, my guidance, my love. Torn. Just torn to shreds. Everyone I know (who is close to me and/or family) is having problems in their respective relationship...and I just don't know why! What the fuck, people?
I have no energy left to talk about this any further.
Had an interview today (yes, another one), and I have a pretty good feeling about the prospects of this one, actually. Also have a lock on a consulting position for this Thursday and Friday. This may eventually become a permanent position, but nothing's guaranteed. Whatever, money is money. I just want something secure, well-paying, and that won't make me insane.
I have so, so, so much more to talk and write about - but I just can't motivate myself to do so right now.
If you're interested in viewing a few pictures of my new little baby boy - here's your link: http://www.drtyrockstar.com/cdf.htm
No fan mail for him yet...please.
Heh, heh! Just kidding. I'm one PROUD poppa.
Tues: I'm laughing at you all inside. I'm pointing my finger and laughing my ass off. You will all look me up later in life - just to see if I still exist. To see if I'm still living life the way you wish you were courageous enough to. Hold your breath until you see visions of me smashing you in the face.
**WARNING: Some of you may take offense to the entry below. Suffice to say that it's the ramblings of a drunk, frustrated, lonely fuck - nothing more, nothing else. In other words: if you're offended, you really need to evaluate your life. (you all know I love you!)**
There are so many things that I want to bitch about right now. Let me start a pseudo-list:
- I am sick and tired of women (and the sheer masses of them) who swear their love, etc. to Angelina Jolie. Yes, she is beautiful. Leave it alone. All these chicks who drool and profess the "things" they would do to/with her...bullshit. You're all just jealous that she's hot, and you wish you could be her. Enough already! Fuck!
- I am sick and tired of little girls who are 14 , sitting at home, taking "sexy" pictures (riiiiight) of themselves, and posting them on the Internet. First off, isn't it past your bedtimes? Second, do you have any idea of the potentially dangerous situation you are putting yourselves into? Third, where the fuck are your parents in all of this? I'd love to email them and show them what you're doing. Keep it up, and you'll be pregnant, before you finish your teen years...still living at home. The only difference is that I'll be supporting your slut-asses via welfare. Get a clue. I could go on, ad nauseum about this topic - but I'll leave it where it stands for the time being.
- I am sick and tired of people who identify w/ a sub-culture that makes "people stare at me" and then gripe about it. If you want to wear black everyday, and be introverted, etc. - good! Fuck everyone else, and what they think. Embrace your decision to be who you are (or at least who you THINK you are), and quit bitching about the repercussions. If a stranger's opinion (perceived or real) about you is that important to your life's validation...you obviously chose wrong in the first place. Go to Abercrombie and What-the-fuck...you're sure to fit in w/ the rest of the sheep that way. It's a win-win situation. Either way, stop your fucking "bitching" about it. If you're doing it for attention, I'd be happy to provide said attention w/ the front end of my boot, in your ass.
- Women are NOT cats. Women like cats, typically more than men do - this is true. Unfortunately, until my plan to rid the world of felines is achieved, this shall be my cross to bear, that I have to listen to women talk about their cats. First thing you must realize: No one else gives a fuck. We really don't care to see pictures of your dear pet (although it's wonderful that you love and care for them so greatly). Oh, and saying or typing "meow" and talking about yourself as if you ARE a cat...this is more idiocy that makes me want to claw the flesh off of my face.
Last rant for this post:
- All of you poor, poor children who "hate" your parents - you make me laugh. You are the laughing stock of the rest of the world. Although your stupid-teen-goggles will not allow you to view further into your future than Saturday night...life is more than rebelling from your parents. You might read this and become angry...but that's because you know I'm right and you are too proud to admit it. If you truly hate them, emancipate yourself, move out, get a real job, get an apartment and see what the real world is like for a while. I'd bet you'll be wishing for the simple life "problems" of hating your parents then. You make me sick, and I want to slap the teeth out of each of you.
It just dawned on me that I haven't updated this in a long, long time - so here goes:
The day after my last entry, I was laid off from my job (along w/ about 4 other people). I walked in, was called into the boss's office, and informed that my position had been "eliminated." Nice. Right before the holidays. So I have been looking for a job, unsucessfully, ever since then. The way I figured it, no one wanted to hire a new employee right before the holidays, then give them a paid vacation...so I patiently waited for Jan.1, 05. I'm getting more responses, and even an interview or two now - so I'm hoping that this is indicative of better things to come. Those of you who know me, know that I'm a pessimistic fucker...but I'm trying my best to be positive about this! Heh...I digress...
My band, Filth Industry, has been doing well. Making headway, writing new tunes, etc. The problem is that our drummer is a choad, and needs to be replaced. So we're currently shopping for Denver-area drummers.
I've also been spending a lot of my time on MySpace.com and have started a new blog on blogdrive.com (you may request the link if you give a crap). They're both pretty cool - but nothing like my CoA. My web site work on my band and personal sites also lumbers on. All-in-all things have sucked for me as of late, which blows. I have been getting attached to things that can destroy me, and have also been really getting honest w/ myself. Some of my blog entries make me step back and think, "what the ever-living-fuck is wrong w/ you, Ron?!" But, the good side is that by getting my inner shit - out - I am continuously feeling my burden shift. It hasn't gotten lighter yet, but it's definitely shifting.
Now for the sappy shit. I have so many wonderful friends here on CoA. Friends who I've known for the three or so years I've been a member - and friends whom I've just recently met. Friends whom are infrequently contacted - and friends who are on the list of regular messaging. No matter what I've been through in my life, since I first joined this site, to present day...I have been treated with so much respect that I just wanted to express my thanks to each and every one of you who I've (a) befriended, (b) put on a "crush" list, (c) added to my friends list, (d) everyone else who I haven't encountered yet but will soon, and finally, (e) all those who fall in the grey area between the afore mentioned.
Ok, enough of that horseshit. Fuck off now! Hahaha...
Pretty girl with a gun.
Bang - bang - fun - fun.
I make the demands in this world.
I am the high and mighty one - who is the only one aware of his weaknesses. The bpm drives me insane, but I don't want to turn the music down. It's the thing I like. It's my guilty, horrible, terrible pleasure. The sick urge comes up and give me the universal sign before I succumb to it again. Fun? Not sure if that's really the word for it. It has to be done, though. I am forever into this because of my chemical reactions. The way my brain was formed in the womb has served to continue to fuck me through life - trading one self-destruction for another. Doctor's manufactured chemicals have helped, but now I fear they are failing miserably. I don't even care anymore. My throat burns and I keep running. My heart is tired and it keeps on beating. Feet are blistered and keep on moving. God knows this isn't the way, but the path seems to have an ending in sight, so I stay the course. Foolish. A mirage of safety. I hear that life is more than just the horizontal line between birth and death dates on a headstone. Wonder where I am on that line.
Switchblade pic is one that I took the other day. It was a bad day.
I have been asked, so I'll answer: Yes, you may copy the picture and use it as you wish. I only copyright my lyrics and music.
Pictures from the Orgy show are posted on Filth Industry's web site at: www.filthindustry.com/pics.htm
Great night! Lots of fans. Huge mosh pit. Blood. Liquor. Signed autographs for over an hour, afterwards. THAT was a show!
Just got news on Friday that my band, Filth Industry (www.filthindustry.com) will be opening for ORGY on 10.13!
Very excited about this opportunity. Should proved to be a killer time!
I'm in the room again. The cold, rough walls are all I can see. My ears hear only cries of pain, mixed with the cruel laughter. I can't get out. On every wall, I see the face that haunts me. How is this possible? I begin to float upwards - maybe now I can escape. The cruel irony is that I am forever shackled to the bottom of this pit of despair - and will never truly make it out. Up. Up. Until I can see the purity of the light above. The promise of release. And just as I reach out to grasp the top of this pit, the chains pull tight - reminding me that there is no hope. There is no where to go. There is no way out. The recoil sends me down, back down to the dark depths that I so long to escape. It seems that every time I do this - I forget about the pain, about the painful impact. Before this thought completes it's cycle in my mind, I feel it. It's cold again, on the side of my face. The chains clatter with such a resonance that you'd think they were being used as whips. Reaching out an arm, though the tears, I can feel the familiar stones that have held my head for many nights. I hate these stones. They are covered in dried blood, from both past falls, and sheer frustration. It smells like desolation here. Smells alone. I intend to warm myself at any cost. The crimson flow from the wound to my head is only the beginning, because by the time it falls to my feet, it too is cold. Knowing where the sharp edge of this pit is - I approach it with a sense of perverted anticipation. I don't need this to feel the warmth from inside, rather, I need to do this to know that I'm still alive. Bleeding is the only true proof of life. If I can prove that I am alive, I can try to escape my mental hell. Dragging my cold skin over it is not the feeling I expected. It's not as sharp as I had hoped - so it is more of a tear, than a cut. Nevertheless, I continue pushing, and pulling it forward. Downward pressure compromises layer after layer until the red oozes up slowly around it, before following the path that gravity predetermined. Nothing I say can explain this - therefore I offer no explanations, ever. Once the proper amount has been forcefully liberated, the delirium sets in. It's difficult to differentiate between this, and the ingestion of too many drugs, or too many drinks. Euphoria, drowsiness, sensuality, peace. I am the only one here. The moment before darkness is accompanied by the fleeting feeling of well being, I float downwards. The cold stone is now painted red. The skin on my face is now painted red. Conscience fades as the flow continues. Who will help me now?
So this is true bliss.
Heavy heart today. It's been three years, and still the goosebumps rise on my skin. This web page says it all: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,62151,00.html
God Bless America.
::Ron's band values, vol. 1::
1) No ?battle of the bands.?
2) We (as a band) refuse to have individual bio pages that list ?influences? (at least on our web site...that?s fucking stupid). If you don?t like us - go listen to Phish.
3) Phish sucks (even though I know how to spell it).
4) Drama is for boy-bands. If you?re dramatic, please fuck off.
5) Beer is good (this really should be #1)
6) All genres of rock/metal/hardcore/core/metalcore/death/yaddayadda are good. Country sucks. Respect your roots - no matter what your sound.
7) Hip hop is only acceptable after large quantities of #5 and less clothing - period (and even then, it?s questionable).
8 ) Whiners piss me off.
9) Pharmecuticals were invented by God, to assist you with the drudgery of everyday life.
10) Singers are assholes.
11) Singers are bi-polar.
12) Drummers are ?unique.?
13) If you live in Denver...there is no ?scene.? It?s only you, me, my band, your band, your fans, and my fans. PERIOD. It?s up to US to make a scene.
14) FI makes a scene everytime we play (practice, live, recorded...)
15) I despise the teenage depressed, angry, ?no one understands me? types. You need to leave your parent?s house, pay rent, live REAL life, THEN you may bitch. FI will never make music for you to listen to in your room...hating the fact that you attend school, have food, clothing, shelter, and everything else your fucking ungrateful heart desires, handed to you. My lyrics are deeper than you, and do not concern you.
16) I?m quite aware that I bitch a lot - via my web sites, lyrics, whatever.
17) Blue cheese dressing/chunks taste like what I vomited after drinking Jagermeister and milk (and orange juice).
18 ) No fat chicks.
19) I?m drunk right now.
20) I?ll bet $.50 that Fletch is drunk right now as well.
21) Anyone who(m) take(s) their/themselves too seriously need a Tabasco-enema.
oh yeah and...
22) FILTH INDUSTRY is greater than all! I love my band and everyone IN my band .
That is all - for now.
The first, ever Filth Industry video is now posted on the website. The video for "ME" is in Flash format, and is a HUGE file. If you do not have a fast cpu - don't try to view this...it will kill your machine. If you do have a fast machine...knock yourself out!
Here is the link (again): www.filthindustry.com/media.htm
Filth Industry's 2-song demo is available for download at: www.filthindustry.com/media.htm
You and your misplaced "angst" and "depression" make me sick. To all the young kids out there, living with their parents, who feel so abused, slighted, depressed, and angry: YOU ARE A JOKE TO THE REST OF THE WORLD! Every time you go into your room and slam the door, I'm laughing at you. It's not possible for your young brains to comprehend yet, but there is SO much more to life than hating your parents and "rebelling." Your little poems of angst and pain are laughable. I'll say it again - you all make me sick.
All a cliché anymore
Nothing is unique in this place
Take a look around at all the fighting
We?re going down down ? slowly killing ourselves
My god, your god, their god?s dead
No time to think, rather be a martyr instead
The letter of the world these days
Reads kill you, kill me ? it makes no sense
Nothing can be done to make them go away
These differences that kill our innocence
There?s so much blood on the ground
I don?t remember seeing any other
Tears flow into the red as their fists pound
This is pain and ignorance shown in a color
Shattered people shatter peoples shattered lives
Differences become the reason for the lies
If nothing happens then no one will ever change
And the only entry in the book of life will be rage
No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatsoever, at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.