to separate yourself from your effects and evacuate one's sturdy flesh.

Wow. I am so very tired. This has been a long hard week. I've been working, moving, travelling, seeing family, trying to see friends and I've had absolutely no time to relax. Busy is nice, but... so sleepy, you know? I'm taking a day to relax when I'm in Virginia, I hope my girlfriend doesn't mind. I'll be doing regular updates this coming week, and then no updates the next week, as that's when I'll be out of town. After that though it's fair game, so expect to see a lot more stuff in about two weeks.

It's really difficult for me to just sit down and write poetry these days. I always feel as if I'm writing to a genre, or for a particular purpose; maybe it's just that I fill the work with a purpose after the fact, but it's really tough to always write purposefully. I have so much going on inside that I don't know how to express, so maybe writing just isn't the way to do it.

I did sit down last night and open up about 20 or so different word documents with lyrics in them. I started playing a little guitar, and found some nice progressions for two of the songs. It was nice to know that I can make music still, after not being able to play for so long. It seems silly to say, but I actually worry sometimes that if I don't exercise something I'll lose it. Actually, this could be said of everything I relate to - if I don't interact with it enough, it'll leave me.

Punk band's activities are shaping up. We hope to have the Basement EP out by the end of break, which is the 26th for me. We'll be playing a show at some point, which will hopefully be higher energy and lower nervousness for us, and if you want to see our mellower sides, there should be an open mic coming soon. We recorded the last one, it'd be fun to do that again. Once we find shirts we'll be pumping those out pretty quick, and the booklet will come together pretty quick as well. The tentative tracklisting (no order, just presence) for the EP is:
-All Along the Watchtower (sorry bob dylan)
-Information Age
-Shadows in the Dark
-I can't
-It is coming
-Down to the Watershed



I guess I was lying about returning to regular updates. Sorry. Still busy. But, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


what you know grows colder

Normal posting schedule will resume on Monday. Sorry everyone. I'll throw up an update on what's been going on in my life tomorrow too.


Finals week, so no blog posts. Sorry everybody. I'll get back to that next week. Maybe I'll be inspired by my girlfriend and all yall'll get new poetry.

So for those who haven't seen me recently, my hands are really messed up. I have pretty sensitive skin, so every winter I have to be careful about how much time I spend outside with bare hands; I usually end up putting lotion on them once every two days or so. However, I also have a habit of being in the food service industry during winter, which means that I'm washing my hands a million times a day and working with sanitizer. It kills my hands, and I end up with cracks and bleeding and general discomfort.

This year, however, it's honestly terrible. No matter what I do, my hands do not rehydrate. I've tried denying them lotion, I've tried putting a lot on, I've tried violently exfoliating them -- nothing works. The problem is that whenever I breathe in coffee grounds that are in the air (ie. at work), I start sneezing. Aaaaand, every time I sneeze, I have to wash my hands, which means I'm washing my hands 40+ times a day. Also, we just got new really high power sanitizer. When I say high-power, I'm not talking about your momma's sanitizer, no, this shit is whack - it says to always use gloves, goggles and FACEMASK when handling the sanitizer, and it causes IRREPARABLE eye damage if it gets in contact with your eyes. WHY ARE WE USING THIS?!? How can this be food safe???

I realized today that I should have been taking pictures of them, just to document the silliness of it. Oh, well.

I have to go to the bank; I have moneys to put in. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow. I'm looking to see people tomorrow, if that would be cool? Anybody that's in town? Bernizzle? V? Wow, what an awesome nickname for him. Although, Evey might be more appropriate, either the Vendetta character or the Pokemon.


you're way, you're way, you're way, you're way, you're way, you're way too goner for that

Martin posted something, and I realized I had a lot to say about it. This was my comment on the page, followed by some more thoughts.

"I know what he's saying. I know what you're saying. If you've ever heard of the Romantic movement, or Romanticism, or die Romantik or some shit like that, that's what this is about -- making real shit to make it, striving, creating, doing, because that's what makes us human. Without this, we are dead, as nothing -- according to Herder, we strive our entire lives in order to become human only at the end, when we have been all we can be. "cogito ergo sum" my ass, "volo ergo sum" is the diy ethos, only two hundred years ago and in Latin.

I think we're on the same page with why we make some noise, no?"

You have to be willing to throw yourself into everything, to try and become everything. That's the only reason I survive at college, because I'm here, so I try my hardest to invest my self in my work, and my classes and eventually it works and I'm invested without trying. That's the reason I have been so messed up this semester, so depressed at times, so bi-polar: variety and change are not the spices of life - they are life. Without change, without excitement, without challenge or energy or enjoyment, there is only boredom, and boredom is death. Stale is death. Silence is death. Open your mouth and let your voice be heard because there is only one you, because as far as I can tell we've only got one shot, but really, because you must in order to be alive.

This is why I listen to cathartic music, this is why I can't find time to exercise, because I'm too busy using my energy in living, creating, breathing in the only way that I can: by making some fucking noise, even if it's quiet.

So drop a couple bombs. Strike quick and leave some paint behind. Stir up trouble. Wake people up. Quit dying quietly. Quit stopping starting. Write. Draw. Create. Love. Imagine. Collaborate. Hug your mom. Make people remember what it is they're missing out on. People have forgotten how to live -- it's our job to show them how far they've fallen, so they can get back up.

Fall down 7 times, stand up eight. DIYMF.


and resign your slight regime to time

I've commented on some of the posts, if people want to check back. Did people like the poetry every day thing? I enjoyed doing it, and it's not like I don't have a whole shitload to post...

Here's a paper update from your favorite CS student; although, if this guy is your actual favorite, I wouldn't mind.

AI - 7/12ish I'm guessing; it's a 10-15 pager, and we've got a LOT of diagrams. ;P

Algorithms - 3.5 single-spaced out of ... ? I don't know. 5 or so single spaced? Something like that.

German - 0/4 I've done a lot of thinking though, and I have an extension due to the crrrazyness that is my finals "week" (read: 24 hours)

Chinese - semester essay portfolio is done/done, and the test is not studied for/ready to go.

3 essays due within 24 hours of eachother on Monday/Tuesday, a test on Wednesday at 10, work Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, moving in on to my new place Monday during the day, and Angie gets here Monday night! Huzzah!

However, I get to see a friend at work tonight, as she's coming back from Italy after studying abroad. On the subject of Tashas, ninja-chan I need to see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


The longer you go, the more the laws of flesh reveal to you about those more visible veins on the back of your hands something very serious.

Working on papers. Nobody comments on my blog anymore. :(

and resign the simple engine of your fears to time...

More poetry. Whoooo.

The crash of the waves on the banks of the sea
Where I always know you and you often know me.
Memories of that lake in the woods,
But the dream, upon waking, is never as good
As the feeling where you once stood.

The mantle’s fief and Shakespeare’s bust,
The sparrow’s rest and the city’s lust.
Like a bicycle left in the rain and snow,
Things are never the same once you go.

The story’s being told in the mountain cave
Past the face and the place with your choice of slaves
Past the hole where the winter’s gone
Where the days are hard and the nights are long
There I’ll sit and I’ll be strong…

The mantle’s fief and Shakespeare’s bust,
The sparrow’s rest and the city’s lust.
Like a bicycle left in the rain and snow,
Things are never the same once you go.

I lay here, knowing
That outside it’s snowing
And my insides are cold as my heart,
But not quite as tart.

The blow of the wind through the leaves on the trees
Reminds me where I am, what you said I need.
All I know now is the balance I’ve found
Here amidst the willows, and the snow on the ground,
I’m hardly free, but still far from bound.


to dine on royal oil of arm

My life is papers. I'm currently writing 3 papers and assembling a collection of essays for a portfolio. It's all a tad overwhelming, as anybody who's been around my crazy recently can tell. I realize now, at the end of this paragraph, that the beginning wasn't really that outstanding; I work in a bookstore, I write quite a bit, I read a lot....

Hardy, young and fortified,
28 years younger than 45,
Almost had me a pretty bride,
Prettiest face I’ve seen.

Gracious, kind and always patient
Rarely gone and not complacent,
Never ever made me face it,
Lonely, bright and green.

But now she’s gone,
And this heart isn’t mine.
I’ll never fall in love again,
Never, out of mind,
‘Till in Heaven’s Hold I lie.

Kissed her quick in a bright new dawn,
She kissed me back, hard and long,
How was I to know that she’d be gone
In just a few hours’ time?

She packed my bags and I left town
Went to deliver my old soul down
Out on the road where it wouldn’t be found
To pay penance for my crimes.

But now she’s gone,
And this heart isn’t mine.
I’ll never fall in love again,
Never, out of mind,
‘Till in Heaven’s Hold I lie.

‘Cause now she’s gone,
I’ve lost my sake and soul to time,
I’ll never fall in love again,
Lord has struck me blind.
Now in Heaven’s Hold I lie.


exiting arm, the pit and alabaster ascension

That last one was pretty easy to choose; I really like those lyrics, just because they reflect how I walked into that particular relationship well. I like them because they're accurate, I guess. Anyways, this week I'm trying to post only lyrics, specifically lyrics that I wrote to be played, or that, upon reflection, should be played, on acoustic guitar or by some other acoustic, non-electric, arrangement of instruments. Here's the next one for today. Tell me what you think about all the stuff that goes up this week, I'm curious to hear it.

I remember the first time I saw Jimmy,
He was standing still in the sun of some sunken Valley.
They called him Saint, they named him serious,
Now they call him the Ravager, crown him delirious.
It’s easier to remember the title than it is to remember the name.
I remember his lack of motion, but I can’t quite recall his face.

The Ravager kills at night but stalks his prey
By day he always breaks his fast in his field.
Or does he break their bodies in the weald?
I forget the purpose, just remember the place.
I forget the feeling but keep feeling the space.

Like in church at night on Wednesdays –
Congregated to avoid being
Subjugated to gruesome death, I think.
I can’t remember, but I make sure
To memorize the woodgrain on the pew
With my hands in case I have
To stand and can’t get back.

Remember the title, can’t remember the name
Remember the motion, can’t remember the face
Remember the purpose, keep forgetting the place,
Remember the feeling, keep missing the space.

I’ve heard it said you can hear the dead
If you walk his old hills but I never,
I never can seem to remember their names.


when last we left hour hero yes, left one part endless... two parts death.

So because I missed the poetry update last week so badly, and because I need a distraction from finals week, you'll be getting a poetry update every day for at least this week. Enjoy!

I wish I could crawl in you and touch your eyes,
Find out how you see my lies.
When I let go you’ll be blind,
That way I can lie and you won’t mind.

You’ve been playing a game of keep-away
For so long you’ve forgotten how not to.
But even I can finally see today
Through the sunlight, so blue…

You brought me home and touched my heart
The same way I touched your chest in the dark.
You caught me quick and threw me back quicker,
I had to walk ‘till the crack dawned thicker.

We were playing our games in the sea,
I teased you and you bit me.
Now you’re gone and I’ve lost what I’ve gained,
But the scar you left still remains.

You’ve been playing a game of keep-away
For so long you’ve forgotten how not to.
But even I can finally see today
Through the sunlight, so blue…

I wish I could crawl in you and touch your eyes,
Make you turn and see these thoughts inside,
But you laugh while I quietly warn:
“This fire will consume you too in turn.”


ye old 12 point hand

Another one of those lyrics drawings. Nobody guessed last time, so 50 points to the winner this time!


would you skin your skull to draw its strength?

Sorry for missing the Dichter des Donnerstags update. It should also be Gedichte des Donnerstags. Which it will be, from now on. Silly me. Anyways, here's the update.

The darkness came, soft as the dew on the fields.
There was no warning, no promise of last supper.
The darkness came, and brought with it murder
Clad in white with harsh words on its lips.

I heard them come for my neighbor, and I hid -
Perhaps they would pass me by, and I listened:
I listened as they slit the wrists of his howling children
And raped his wife as he watched, forced to listen.

The flames rocked like a newborn's cradle
As they ate my neighbor's home, and the bodies.
I watched them flicker so clamly
On the wall, shining through the window shades.

We ran, then, deep through the dark, searching for others,
Pray we would pass free before we were caught.
But the dark was too deep, and we were lost.
Hope left us then, in the gray between mourning and knight.

Last until daybreak, my sister said, and we'll be safe.
But by light, I knew, the world would simply see our terror.
We wandered, and the dawn grew darker and harrowed.
We were surrounded, figures in white.

There was no chance. The world would not know how we died. They would forget how we lived. The pain we felt would be lost and found later by looking at chip marks on bones, once lost then found in these sometimes arid plains. The world would turn over, again and again, revolutions of the child's ball fallen in the water, like our thoughts as we watched them, and they watched us.

And then, finally, with a brisk clip of wind that sent their sleeves out straight

Morning came.
Horus sang.


Some Bon Iver for your health:

And I told you to patient,
And I told you to be fine,
And I told you to be balanced,
And I told you to be kind.
And now all your love is wasted,
Well then who the hell was I?
And I'm breaking at the britches,
And at the end of all your lines.

Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?

From For Emma, Forever Ago, very good, check it out. I've heard he's good live. Where was I? Oh, yes, that's right, doing "homework". Hm. :3


Sorry, sorry, brief bit of a, uh... well. Hm. :3

this is the worst trip I've ever been on

So for the Mosaic Mondays update here's some more of my usual sketching style of form rather than detail. This one's ink.

Hopefully I'll have time to draw again soon, but with finals coming up, who knows?


i'm out of lyrics, and have been listening to exitingARM too much to come up with a for hero:for fool lyric

Here's lyrics for Dichter Des Donnerstags. This lives in my acoustic folder, which means I think it would sound best with acoustic guitar as opposed to electric + distortion and stuff. Enjoy.

Speak me a sermon serpent’s child,
I’ll kiss you a summons for a good long while.
And the reaper’s hand warms to the bone
When you meet her near the standing stones:
She’s all blood, makeup and tears,
The look of a girl who lost all her fears, lost by the pier
With a gun in her hand, and Jimmy’s beard.

Her laughter whisks me away
To a better time, a better place,
I just wish for once
That she’d smile.

Empty your thoughts into my cup
And I’ll drink ‘till we’re both dry
Lost amidst the tumbling lights,
The eagle, the mother’s cry.
And in the end, she’ll hold me close
And our two hearts will meet.
I hope you find as much comfort in her hand
As she has found in me.

Her laughter whisks me away
To a better time, a better place,
I just wish for once
That she’d smile.

And though I know
Her pretty face
Is always marked by tears
And the charcoal holes
That hide her soul
Also mask her fears,
Someday she’ll find a way through her loneliness,
Someday she’ll smile again.

Her laughter whisks me away
To a better time, a better place,
I just wish for once
That she’d smile.



Sitting in Dunn's listening to Pat Donahue make awesome on his guitar. He's playing a fairly well known song, and he keeps throwing in little bits of nonsense (still in tune with the song mind you) and looking at the audience, to see if they'll react -- they just sit there, staring at him with open mouths; I'm the only one laughing and I'm laughing quite a bit.

and when planets align... all you can do is dive...

Here's the Mosaic Mondays update. I enjoy drawing things based on music, or lyrics. 5 points of win if you know the song, or can decipher my writing, or both. 10 points for both.


And you'd like to have a close friend drive you off into the sinking pinks...

And the broken hearted phonetics will
Lose themselves,
Limb by letter,
‘eather by ‘ever,
Until they lie

And the piece mealed fanatics will
Grasp at straws
Like false hopes
And woolen coats,
Their wicker goes

And the empty headed didactics will
Find their ears
After only mouths
Like moths,
For so many months

And the defected…

The infected…

And the have nothing for nothing addicts will
Catch their fortunes
By the throat,
Like pickpocket’s petticoat,
Ill-placed dependence,

All this, I promise you,
Doubt not wordfull legerdemain;
The dead, too, will rise again,
And the liars will be rehanged.


all there, unraveling his one kilometer long list of things most certain to be so

My life isn't really changing, but my emotional world is kind of crashing down around me; you can only be stable for so long. I've got a bunch of homework for the next, oh, month, and work is scheduling me for more shifts than usual for the next two weeks. My life is pretty overwhelming - I had a conversation with Eric Jones, a guy at my school, and he said, "The play is eating me alive", to which I responded, "Life is eating me alive." That's pretty apt at this point.

Regardless, I'm supposed to be showing you pretty pictures, not bitching about my personal life, which, by the way is feeling more and more like this guy's every day. So here's the Mosaic Mondays update:

Some times I have really weird days, and things like these are what come from it. If anyone's ever been to Hell's Kitchen in Duluth, there's some really strange art on the walls, which is sort of... endearing? if you stare at it long enough. Anyways, all of that together leads to this. The first picture is John McCain and the second picture is Barack Obama. Sort of.


Naturally you freak at the mere thought of being poured toward complete

Oh noes!! I missed the update by an hour and a half!!! Dichter des ...er... Freitags, komming right at you! <-- see what I did there?

Oh: to be saved.
To be saved.

Down in the crevice
Lies a seed,
Between the rocks where
The dirt hides.
Let the rain come down.
Let it grow.

Like memories,
Deep down,
Snuck away from the light.
Oh what a fright
We’ve had.
What a fight.

And the tears of the Sons may seep down on high,
And the last King’s men will break through the sky,
Even the dirt will rebel, a great many will die,
But I will not cry. No I will not cry.

Oh: to be saved.
To be saved.


like a man who's had every single nerve removed then replaced with copper wire, been given gazing globe teeth

So I'm back from Virginia. Good weekend. I forgot how much I love that place, how much I enjoy being there... the company helps a bit too. ^_^ Anyways, back to life.

O god so much work!!! Seriously, this week/month is crrrazy, and not in the Gnarls Barkely way. Even Danger Mouse would have a hard time making this set of sad songs better. Let's just say the semester is coming to a head, and rather more quickly and violently than I'd like.

In other news, I can't seem to get the music from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog out of my head. If you've ever heard of Buffy, Angel or Firefly, or have a fine appreciation for anything, go check it out. It's making it difficult to concentrate on my work or listen to music or really function in life when all I can hear, all the time, is this musical.

Still, Mosaic Monday!

If any of you follow Brain Spew, you may recognize this particular theme; Martin challenged me to draw something along the lines of 'bomb with tree growing out of it'. My first attempt was a big tree, and then I remembered the bomb and put it on top, which was a different image, but still sort of cool. This is the second one I tried, and I went after a seedling feel that I liked on an earlier drawing. I think it turned out alright. It's no good as a stencil, but it still looks neat. Here's the "proof of concept" so to speak.


The fate of your life may very well be determined by how good you look in white

I realized I should probably get to updates tonight as tomorrow will be too busy. At the end of this post you'll get an (early) Dichter des Donnerstags update, stunning, I know. Not STNNNG; little different. Anyways, tomorrow will be busy with going to the Apple store to get my iPod fixed up before going on a trip to Virginia to visit Angie. I leave tomorrow at 4, and I'm going to try to avoid as many uses of my computer as I can. I am bringing it though, so I may check everything once, but that's it. I'm pretty ready to be there, though; I spent all of my Chinese class wishing that the faster we talk Chinese didn't have a correlation to how slow the hour goes... which is true, by the way. We're at a level of Chinese where we can talk much more fluently; but as a result, we say a lot more in less time, which leaves us with, uh... dead space.

Speaking of dead space, there are two major swing forces in my life right now; this is not to say that I'm a simple creature with base desires -- it's just that most situations right now are fixed, and the only two things that I still am allowing to swing free in my world are quite simple. Video games, and sleep. Video games, because I really want to play things like Fallout 3, OTRSPOD 2 and that Lambda-encrusted horror survival game I keep hearing about. But I have no time outside of class and doing homework and working at Borders. The other one is sleep, which gives me more time, but makes me ... well, I dunno. After experimenting with 4-5 hours of sleep a night, I got sick for 3 weeks. Coincidence? Loopy is for definite though. Mos def. Ah ha! He may be coming to SpringFest at Mac -- a concert Joseph may actually enjoy? We shall see.

Alright, enough rambling. Here's the moment you've been waiting for: DdD!! Although this already appeared on a certain someone's facebook wall a couple of months ago, here it is again, to mark the occasion:

The setting sun is sinking ever quick,
The wind is blowing cold across the streets.
This precipice I walk upon is slick,
With rain, with tears, with sideways-slanting sleet.
The skipping stone is faintly heard below
As lightning threatens sky with blinding shake.
But still I walk this path because I know
That seeing you is what I have at stake.
But here the storm is suddenly at rest,
The way before my feet is soft and clear.
The sound of waves and gulls and light caress
Make known that I'm so close to you, so near.
        What gives my fight across the seas some truth
        Unless it's that I'm coming home to you?

Also, for anyone that was at the concert in Morris, or I guess anyone that might be interested in damn good dirty blues, I'm currently listening to the Eddie and the Dirty Pennies EP, and it's highly entertaining; if you would like a copy of it, send him a check, show me the carbon copy in your checkbook and I'll let you rip/burn it.

What? Consumer-enforced DRM.


its continual crunch of entire months toward zero's and ones in the hoped pursuit of what the timeclock can't afford them...

Sorry about missing the Art update -- I couldn't decide on a drawing to put up, nor have I had time recently to do more drawing, plus writing a big essay...yeah. Epic fail.

So I'll be trying something a little different today with the update. I had this floating around in my head yesterday, and I felt like it deserved voicing on some level.

So, a play. Yeah, drama. There are some characters, they're on stage, they've got some interpersonal conflict going on, you know, the way these things work. Except...they make a joke one time, and the audience laughs -- "What was that?" I'm thinking a whole new level of breaking the 4th wall; the characters slowly begin to realize they're in a play, in a theater, and they also begin to realize they aren't bound to this place they find themselves. They can go outside, go to a bar, get drunk if they want, and come back. So all of a sudden they have their entire worlds broadened, and they have to deal with this freedom, and this self-awareness, and it gets to them, and the aforementioned interpersonal conflicts come to a violent close on stage, not because it's convenient, or because it's showing a different place; no, they come back to the stage and the play, and the confines of it because they want to, because they understand that they are bound to it, and that one must kill the other, on stage, because he knows that is what is required of him, by the world in which he finds himself.

Copyright 2008 Colin Welch, because I think it's a good idea.

Also, Mosaic Mondays?


There it is.... middle class....

Here's the Dichter des Donnerstags update, but ... on Sunday! Enjoy!

Bright light?
No…just shellfire. Shellfire?!?
Battle! Fire! Wait!
People charging; boots tramping around me,
Foreign boots, alien boots,
On MY soil! How dare they?!
Closed eyes…they’re gone.

I can’t move. Why can’t I move?
Oh, God. There’s Smith. I can barely see half his face…
Why can’t I … oh, God, their blood, their blood!
Running over the ground, through my hair,
In rivulets across my cheeks…no, my blood?
My blood? That’s … right …
I was…

This was an exercise in voice. I'm not sure it worked out, but I still kind of like it. Reading it again makes me think it's a little too up-front, not enough subtlety... but I'm not sure. Any comments?


Like a large dollop of grey plopped hard in the plain water of hack, you sink

Whoops. Got up all early to go talk to my Algorithms teacher about my project and the midterm, and here I forgot he was going to be gone today! Oh well, at least I don't have class this afternoon too. Still, I was looking for some direction on the project... I know what I'm going to do next, I just want to make sure that's what I should be doing, you know?

Pretty tired; long day yesterday plus going to bed at 2 and getting up at 8:30 makes for a sleepy Colin. However, I did make great gains on acoustic session stuff when I was up last night. Let's just say, "Tonight I'm gonna rock you."

I have a project update due on Tuesday that I have to work on on Sunday with Adam, so hopefully that'll go quickly and cleanly. I also have a paper due on Tuesday (hm....). Busy weekend? I work my usual Saturday and Sunday shifts, so I guess so.

Speaking of work, two things: one, we hired a bunch of new people at Borders - I have no idea what they're all going to be doing; two, my request-off for next Thursday got approved, but then they scheduled me anyway. So I have to call my manager and figure that one out, since I will be on a plane, and thus unable to serve people Lattes.

Also, I know I missed the poetry update yesterday, but I had a busy day, forgive me. I'll get the update up as soon as I'm back on my computer.


Welcome to the no gamble grind of what seems middle-class and above

Another woot-off! I can't handle this pressure!

So I went back to the doctor yesterday, since I hadn't felt any better, and I saw Dr. Ness, who's this awesome old guy who's actually the head of the practice at the clinic I go to. He decided to take an "aggressive approach" as he put it, and prescribed me a high-power antibiotic, steroids, and an anti-histamine nasal spray. The nasal spray was free, and he gave me enough to last the rest of the semester, so I walked out with a brown paper bag full of nasal spray. The diagnosis was that I have a lingering infection, coupled with sudden allergies to Sampson; so yes, the kitty's adorable, but he is killing me slowly. Hopefully the nasal spray will be enough to keep his immense dander reserves at bay. Can't we sign a mutual disarmament agreement?

This weekend was amazing when I wasn't really sick or waking up in the middle of the night scratching my eyeballs. On Friday night hello blacksmith played The Basement; we were a little rusty, ok, a lot rusty, but I still had a good time. It was good to be playing that music again. Then on Saturday I worked a bunch, but saw Tessa and Jamie after that. Sunday was weird; I was supposed to work on a project with Adam, but instead I just ended up waking up with a swollen eye and laying around at home watching football with my folks and eating crab fingers. Then I worked, while fucked up, which was too bad. Yesterday I ended up hanging out with Jamie and Jenny and Martin, playing poker and eating Mesa pizza. Today I woke up late, got a bunch of research materials from the library for my genetic algorithms project, went to class, and then played through our music again with Martin, which was amazing, figured out recording stuff on our free mixer, and even got to talk to Angie for a little bit, which is a blessing, as she is in the middle of Tech Week for UVA's production of King Lear (it's the bit in the middle about "Cordelia, you go long").

Other than being sick, life's alright. This week is much easier than past weeks; in fact, the semester is lightening up a bit as my classes move away from learning lots of shit to writing papers and reflecting. I get to work on a project creating Neural Networks to identify 50x50 pixel characters (A, B, C, etc.), a project implementing a genetic algorithm to quickly exponentiate (frex. x^41 really really fast), and a paper about either Schiller's "Aesthetische Politik" or Herder's "Bloekende Schaff" allegory for language development. Wooooo.

Also, in 8 days I will be leaving Minnesota to visit my darling girlfriend. It will be Halloween that weekend. It's going to be awesome.


Call to Dive

Well, there's another song done. Call to Dive is a song with specific sections: the first half of the song is extremely dense, the second half is incredibly poignant (which is where I pulled all the lyrics from for my titles). Here's the lyrics, with the second half designated by a big ol' marker.

The lids on Streetlights peel back
to reveal row upon row of bulging black bird eye.
all gorged out toward you like exotic zoo snakes
heaped up on fiberglass rocks,
fat with farmed rats coaxed down their throat...

below them in their brights,
tilt finished arrows beached up on thin tin signs.
and where its corrugated stem injects into cement
there is a deep fried breastbone,
popping hard half ate on a rich red curb...

all at once,
this moment has no mercy on your color find eye's
stole blues version of oakland...
as you make for thin ice on your you on you violent night.

the next morning everything begins again over a walk,
past a few balloons tied to a lovesick car-salesman's wrist.
you press on...
a soft bicycle wheel chained up
behind a savage looking pair of women's dress shoes,
abandoned to the left of a tire tread pressed dead pigeon
lain askew in more rich rose colored gutter.

temperature taking your skin,
tinged city wind catching air
on your pleasantly imperfect and c-section shaped skull.

For once forget your headed to the mailbox
to drop more finished bills down to its gut...
even though for all you know...
that's about as far as those things ever go.

as sad as it is so,
kids today will never wear the perfect cape of clean air.
nor one true brand new brazier of sheer luck...
or does someone out there still expect that...
the way a moth gives freely of itself unto the bulb.

they will not learn their lesson from a teachers copy
of a blackened lung, hung in the classroom, on the coat rack...
or left dripping in the closet during math minutes passing.
nor from a nice new globe made of gold, cast in the shape of a half eaten apple...

not until...
the sun is on a stick.
the moon hung on a hook.

desperate times call for step by step schematics of the human dive.

The end...

(one mile of week&will later)

a sunset interjects.
donating the kind of red you only see in stores.
affording yourself a bit more reality,
some singular mood polarity .

If you could, you'd have a close friend
drive you off into the sinking pinks.

Also, when John McCain called Obama names, he was actually referencing this guy.

If you could, you'd have a close friend drive you off into the sinking pinks


Yeah. That was it.


A sunset interjects

Alright, that's that. I've given my notice to Caren, I'm moving out at the end of the semester. Joseph's trying to get out of the house ASAP, but I don't think I'm going to be able to live with him -- I'm tied to an area that doesn't have rates within his price range. That's too bad, but things happen, you know? At this point my options are to inquire about a sublet from someone going abroad in the Spring or applying to live in a language house on campus. I guess we'll see...

I'm feeling slightly less ill now, which is good. I'm on Fall Break, which is also good, because I finally have time for meeeeee.

Speaking of me, we're playing tonight. Whoooo.


The sun is on a stick, the moon hung on a hook

This is one day's musings about words and letters. I thought it was interesting, if nothing else.

Letter a day.

Letter, unfettered.
Spreader of fetters for all the unlettered.
Delettered – removed of meaning and cognizant communication?
Dehumanized – removed of humanity and reconciliation.
Does an alphabet make us human?
Is graf a quest for humanity?

Over, above, beyound. (??)
Übermorgen is a day farther than tomorrow.
Does that make an Übermensch two men down the line?

Beyound. B(ey)ound by the future?
Through the future to beyond.
Through the future to be bound.
Found? Hardley.
Hard ley Hard(ley).

Aus/sagen. Transitive. To speak to someone.
No English transitives … no transition?
Bound by a lack of change?
Can a culture be defined by its language’s range?

Hold on. To what?

Wait. The wait.
The wait for/to what?
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“The waiting’s well worth waiting for.”
“What are we all waiting for?”

Jimmy Hoffa.
Hofft er noch?

B.C. Before Christ.
Before Cameras?
Before the Culling? } Does one letter matter?
Before the Calling? } One letter… letter a day?

Self reference is recursive,
But can it be regenerative?


Nor from a nice new globe made of gold, cast in the shape of a half eaten apple

Still sick, still missing updates. Well, here's the art update:

I'm tired, and sick, and in class, so here, more graf.


Desperate times call for step-by-step schematics of a human dive

Who would have known? I feel even shittier today. I got sent home from work, I almost threw up in the bathroom and felt all tingly and shit. And my arm has been spasming since like 2:00 this afternoon. F***in a. I'm tired of being broken down.

A what I'm listening to update is not going to happen weekly; I just don't have enough time, and I'd have to do it midweek when I should be doing homework. I think I'm going to have to let this one go for right now.

My job is really not conducive to people getting sick, which sucks. Maybe I just get sick too much.

I'm finally getting a break from riotous amounts of homework though, which is fitting considering Fall Break is coming this week. I actually feel like I'm not always playing catch-up -- like I might have time to play guitar or work ahead on homework.


they will not learn their lesson from a teachers copy of a blackened lung, hung in the classroom, on the coat rack...

Just kidding. My extended strep test came back positive. Good old strep. Sorry Angie, I'm having an affair with penicilin.

Do you know what I wish I was having an affair with? Playing guitar. I miss the days when I squandered my time playing World of Warcraft, and now I almost skip class just to go home and jam. Seriously.

Speaking of video games, Fable 2 comes out in two weeks, but only on the XBox 360. That system looks better and better everyday. At this point, though, I might as well wait for the next round of systems to come out so that I can stop being always the last kid on the block to get something.

That's the problem with software vs. hardware. In the software development cycle, there's a distinct period where you provide support for your product, before simply moving on to the next version. Sometimes, companies even manage to do the two concurrently, something Sony and Microsoft can't seem to grasp. Even the phrase "to be supported" implies something different from what you'd expect in this industry -- being supported means developers are releasing games for the platform, rather than the platform's owners maintaining it. Hell, with the rrofd in 360s, you could question the original distribution, much less the shitty job they did of providing service to their customers. This is an industry where customer loyalty cannot be bought and sold -- it can only be acquired by having the prettiest bling. Would Apple get away with not maintaining their OS? No. Microsoft gets away with it by some unfathomable virtue -- maybe being the biggest assholes in the customer service ring actually helps you.

Like how the moth gives of itself under the bulb

Sorry guys, I definitely missed the poetry update. That's what happens when you're passed out for most of the day. I went to the doctor yesterday morning and they told me I just had a virus, so I went home, drank a glass of water and took a 4 hour nap. That was pretty much my entire day yesterday; oh, that and listening to another 6 or so minutes of Chinese and writing it down, and doing it while mixing Claritin, Advil and Cabernet Sauvignon. So without further hubbub and to-do, here's the update for Dichter des Donnerstags:

Hands slack at sides.
My shoulders are in my ears,
So I drop them inches.
Last week’s sweat. Sensei.

Hands up, relaxed,
If they were anymore cat-like they’d have whiskers, I swear.
Foot shuffle forward comes from hips,
Like the darkened snowfall out the steamy window.
Hand snaps out
Fingers grasp cloth, grasp shirt,
Push in close,
Right leg snaps around
Left leg push left hand pull

The was trying to really channel what it was like to be there, I think I managed to get that, but I dunno, since ... well, I was there.


The Mercury Craze

I feel like I've sucked this song dry, so here's the lyrics. It's kind of dense, but...enjoy!

When last we left him...
our hero yes was recently diagnosed as being last haver
of a most unusual sort of blood.
quite surprised by the news himself,
(and still the genuinely unlucky man)
he now wields his one and only body bag
of this, his now very rare blood.

and so, we find him seated not starved but smalled,
before a really rather serious spread...

his evening's eats have been copped and bequeathed
by the richest of rich who's only child is especially sick...

their fair scared parent eyes reading weak...
yelling help across some 200 feet of set table
yours far full of edge... perfectly still like straight teeth

It seems so few would know just what to do as the new and improved lucky you,
to be courted and prized as someone else's very own personal blood mine.

I mean...What if your o-so unique blood... then became the latest craze...
would the dear disparate world not get the wrong/right idea,
You...now owning all your ever so happening blood...
You...sole proprietor of all that priceless red wet...

What if...
What if your blood were then all the rage...
What then...
What if your blood weren't you...

What would you give
in order to get your hands
on the latest most luxurious blood...
to have yours flushed completely
and replaced with that of a nice bright white
college boy or very viral multi-millionaire widow...
Would you later pay extra
for your old red tide to be glassed,
sat down, room warm beside your occupied hospital bed.
so that when you were well ,
and in your right mind of redwets
and new whites. You just might
indeed, spill your own & old blood.

can't you hear your mercury just
ringing with the jingles already...

is there a terrible time to your life that never seems to let up...
is it a terrible time of the great nothing much...
what say you leave your past life's luck in the dust...
and let the miracle most of modern day at your blood...


As sad as it is so, as sad as it so

Sorry about missing the Artsy Fartsy Monday update. I had to hand in a homework assignment on Tuesday for my AI class. It involved designing a Java program to read in data from a file and then search through the world it defines and find the best path from start to finish. Yeah, it was pretty intense. The whole thing finally came together after I got back from Morris. Tomorrow is Dichter des Donnerstags, and Saturday is going to be What I've Listened to Far Too Much This Week (WILFTMTW if you like acronyms), so I guess it'll just be a musical/arty end of the week here! I feel bad, so here's a double art update for all you graphite/charcoal/ink lovers:

This is why I love using charcoal -- you can almost feel the texture of the stems on the bouquet, and the natural shading of it is amazing; the caption for that part reads, "a cosmos for you", which I thought was amusing, at least. Along the texture lines, I'm split on how well I conveyed the wax on the candle stump - sometimes I feel like, "yeah, rock on!", but other times I think it's more of a bark-look. But the wick and flame are fucking righteous, if I do say so myself.

If you fail at reading even rudimentary graffiti, the tag says "Meo". It stands for something, but it's...complicated. Maybe I'll post that spoken word for a Thursday sometime. Anyways, I do crappy graffiti on notes and stuff, I've never really felt the need to buy paint and go out, it's just more of a hobby. I enjoy juxtaposing sharp edges with reliefs and curves, but someday when I have boatloads of free time I'm going to try emulating some wildstyle; at that point, you'll probably see me in the corner of a coffee shop, gibbering and sweating, mumbling something about pipes from the beyond.

Whoops, my woot just came up, guess it's Thursday. That was Artsy-Fartsy "Monday". As for other updates, well, I'll be brief.

First off, my punk band, hello blacksmith is playing a free show on the 17th of October (that's a Friday), in The Basement.

Second, I'm really fricking tired. That's really about it. I'm going to the doctor in the morning for what I think is a sinus infection. Speaking of which, better get on that sleeping bit. See ya'll tomorrow.


It's like a half-selfish sending of an SOS

I went to Morris this weekend to hang out with friends and see a live show of mostly Twin Cities based artists, the irony of which is not lost upon me. It was a good time, I got to see my friends, got a little too far gone on Friday night, and saw an amAZing show on Saturday night. Dirty blues, some indie rock and P.O.S. somehow makes for a good mixture.

The whole trip got me thinking about place, and people. At first I really didn't like Morris, but as I saw more of it, it started growing on me; rather, the people started growing on me. Martin said that life in the dorms was very different from life out in the town, which I believe; nobody could party as much as those guys did in the dorms, no matter how little RA oversight there was. The point being, people wander around to all of these different colleges to try and find a place, or a group of people, that seems right to them. Some people can be happy anywhere, whereas some people are never happy where they are, no matter where it is. I feel like most people are in the middle, that the heart of a place matters enough to ruin a good deal, but the pain of a bad deal can be overshadowed by the heart of the place and the people who live there.

In short, you need a community, and it's in your hands to build it.


It seems so few would know what just to do as the new, new and improved lucky you

Today was nice. I slept until noon, had class, didn't do homework, went to work and worked floor which was nice and easy, and then bought my plane ticket to see Angie over Halloween weekend, which is going to be amazing!!! She's now singing in my ear about how she "wants, wants her boyfriend."

In case people hadn't noticed, all the post titles in a while come from The Mercury Craze by Subtle.

I have a lot of homework to get done ahead of this weekend, and people are making it difficult; Friday or Saturday is a silly question, but it seems to matter to people. I'll try my best to get homework done, but if I don't think I have enough done, I won't leave. My hopes are your hopes.

Sleep well everybody. Happy Friday.


You know you want it!

There’s no war anymore,
No violence.
The smell of the furnace has been replaced
By the shaving of bone.
We discovered the value of the body
After we realized we nearly killed the Earth.
Now the body satisfies not just our needs,
But all needs.
Like progress.

We’ve molded bowels into bowls
To drink out of.
Turns out a femur makes
A pretty good ladle.
And ribs for bicycle spokes
Keep the cities moving.

We are protected,
Just as we protect.
Words have been culled,
Raggedy sheep from a flock,
Things like oil. Greed.
Words like poison.

There are places outside the cities
Where we hid the wrecks.
The metal, engines, burned for weeks.
The plants are still full,
Just now of vines and blooms
Instead of fumes and grinding…

“We are as one, now.”
We take not that which comes not from us.
The air is pure, and you can hear birds
With songs like a thousand suns…
“Ashes stuff blankets, Towers of Glass from dust.”

“Reduce, reuse, recycle.”

Post-apocalyptica is a popular concept, or jumping off point. That's where this poem ended up, but that's not where I started; I started at the last line, actually, and wanted to put a different slant on this oft-used "save the environment" line.


What would you give in order to get your hands on the utmost in luxury --

German essay is done. Algorithms homework is done, except for printing. Chinese test is, well, studied for? Yeah, ok, I'll give it that. Go team!

I am sooo tired. And still hungry. But mostly tired. However, I get to see Vinny tonight and eat Taco Bell, so that'll be a good time.

Oh, and I got a good gift for my dad yesterday from the promos section at Borders, which they give to employees when they're good little darlings, "Wineries of Wisconsin and Minnesota", which is kind of 'eh', except that it was published this year, which means it's completely up to date, which is awesome.



Days be crazy.

I have two essay revisions, a test, a reading, and an algorithms assignment due tomorrow. All of it takes more time than I have, or have had. I'm just really busy, you know?

If I did a weekly music spot, when would people like to see it? I was thinking either Wednesday or Saturday, so either mid-week or on the weekend. The weekend is a bit harder for me to stick to, just because I'm usually working and homeworking then, but I don't want to cram all my updates into the weekdays either, you know?


The no-place of an ache dangles body all around it

It's interesting how we just let stuff go by sometimes, pieces of our lives. We'll get to it later, right? That's the intention, but will it ever happen? I'd really like to play banjo, or buy that mandolin on goingToday, but I don't have time, and I won't buy it, because I have other things in my life that I need the money for: coffee, food, and most importantly seeing Angie.

It's interesting how we live with situations that we don't enjoy, just because we think we have to. It's something that's so ingrained in us, it's no wonder that Evie has to almost die before she's free. What is freedom? It doesn't have a face, or a concrete image: is that because you can't define it so basely, or because we don't have a real example to give to it? What is freedom, but a lack of shackles?

And what of it? Is choice not its own prison?


Happy Monday everyone! That means it's Artsy Fartsy Monday! Let's see the new piece this week:

This was an attempt, if you could call it that, to recreate the feeling of the really blocky, cubist portraits of musicians, if you've ever seen one of those; it's a man and a cello if you didn't quite see it. I like the mix of shape and free lines in this piece, it sits well with me for some reason.


The ground always falls to pieces

This was quite the weekend. I'm exhausted. On Friday night I went to the Building Better Bombs show with Tessa. They played at the Triple Rock, and the whole thing was intense. It was a weird bill for them to be on, the other bands were mostly "heavy metal", that is, Mastodon w/o testicles, so we didn't stay long. Martin also came, and he and I hung out afterwards for a while. It was good to see both of them, but as usual it was a little strange.

Then I worked for two days straight, basically: 2-10:30 yesterday and 1-9:30 today. I'm a little tired. I almost fell asleep on break today while listening to A Love Supreme, so yeah, that's about where I'm at.

I'm really lucky my homework wasn't that bad this weekend. I had an essay to write and an essay to revise for Chinese, a short reading (the page count of which wasn't clear anyways) for Romanticism and some stuff to work on for Wednesday. I'm tired, but still got enough done to feel successful. I'm also always amazed by how I manage to walk in on Open Mic at Dunn's at the wrong time/wrong day, as I wanted to read heavy German philosophical shit, and the OM dude was up on stage fingerpicking.

Also, very sad about the wine.woot sale for this weekend - it's exactly something I'd get my dad for Christmas: two award-winning Cabernet Sauvignons, which is his favorite kind of wine. However, the new item goes up at midnight, and I don't have time to talk to my mother about ordering it. *sigh* I'll just have to wait a bit longer, I guess.

Artsy-Fartsy Monday returns for another episode tomorrow, and I'm thinking of a doing a music spot to the tune of "What I've Been Listening to Too Much This Week".

Bis spaeter.


The LP is a lie.

Sorry about not actually getting this up on Thursday, I had a busy day that started about 12 hours ago. It's now Friday, so yeah... anyways, I present to you a poem:

Weather permitting, the train wreck begins
With a soggy early-morning invitation to sin:
Your mother says goodbye to her last living kin
Over the phone her voice echoes of tin, and D7 → D7? → I don't think that's right, man...
→ Alright, alright. Uno mas, eh?

Weather permitting, the train wreck begins
With a soggy early-morning invitation to sin:
The rattle-tattle tale procession of rin tin tin
And Jimmy, they're getting Richard back his courage again.
I think I'm confused, but the words cover it up
Like the mist over this island, let's color it up
→ pssh, pssh, pssh Why can't we all be purple?
Instead some of us is wheels and some others is gerbils

You know it too, it ain't quite right
You feel yourself left but the nation goes right
The nation goes, “fight, fight fight!”
Man, you gotta be like Mike and bite.
You bumpin this beat, you nod your head to its truth
You swerve down the street, wish you was asleep could be loose
But your mother said her last goodbye to you, her kin,
And over the phone her voice echoed of tin and → crash!

You think you're in heaven
Smell those cookies mom made when you were eleven
Right before dad walked out, shaken and pissed
Wait, is that him walking right there through the mist?


A break in the wooting.

Tasty-looking wine that I can't buy because I'm not yet 21 makes my feet sad.

I got Malcolm X the movie for my birthday from my friend Vinny, which is really cool; I'm currently reading the Autobiography, and I'm really appalled by how far black people in America at that time went to fit the white status quo, and it makes me think about now, and if things have really changed. There's been a strong integrationist/anti-integrationist conflict for a long time, and it makes me hope that there's something in the middle: a point people can reach where everyone accepts everyone else on their own terms, not on terms of whiteness or how alike they are to majority. The whole thing makes me wonder about Obama: what message does electing him send to the nation?

Does it say, "Everything's ok now"? Because it's not. There are still problems, there is still inequity, there is still equality that needs to be had. My dad had a conversation a couple of weeks ago at his bi-weekly Minority Contractors meeting with two other local big-corp representatives, and he said that if McCain was elected, he'd probably give up on anything being done through politics. The two people he was talking with, one of them a Latino woman, the other a black woman, said,

"No. That is when we fight even harder."


Homework closed, due to AIDS

Sorry folks, it's a woot-off. That means all blogposts, work, homework, etc. will cease until further notice.

Viewpoint: As Washington rushes to nationalize troubled parts of the economy, the inescapable reality is that we're all French now

That title is a line from a Time online editorial. The article is written from a very strong libertarian perspective (ie. anti-big governemnt, anti-regulation, etc.), and the person is obviously from a time when things like hating communists mattered, and he's horribly mean to the French, but it's still really funny.

I was wondering last night if it wold be possible to transform your laptop into a desktop. I mean, I know it's doable in terms of taking apart the plastic casing of the laptop and stuff. But is there a way to set up a base, a dock if you will (not unlike commercial docks that link into your ethernet/usb ports -- except better, because everything would go straight into the computer), relialbly, such that you can do it every time in the exact same way, without too much effort. Is it too much to ask that it could even *gasp* be the same for every computer? Or maybe just every brand, or line? I dunno, this could be cool. Meanwhile, I'm going to continue waiting for a 10k rpm harddrive to come to the Land of 2.5 Inches, where every hard drive fits into a fucking laptop.

Speaking of 10K, I wonder if it would be possible to actually prepare for something like 10k Day. 10k Day is where a group of people (it would be lonely just by yourself) strives to eat 10,000 Calories (big C) in one day, without throwing up. Standard recommended daily intake ranges 2k to 2.5k. That means you're eating about 5 times as much, in one day. The challenge is two-fold: how do you optimize your intake, and how do you avoid covering your house in puke. To my knowledge, there's only been one 10k Day, and people discovered that certain kinds of food were better than others, because they could be processed quickly, were cheap, etc. But my question is, is it possible to prepare for the day in a certain way that points towards easier victory. The options are:
-Starve yourself for a couple of days.
-Your stomach would shrink.
-Gorge yourself for a couple of days.
-You may have more challenge mentally to eating the food.
-Gorge yourself and then starve for 1 day or so.
-This seems like a good balance.
-Eat normally and hope for the best.
-This seems alright too.
-Nobody made it doing this though.

I feel like eating 54 hot dogs in an hour and eating 10,000 Calories in 24 hours are different tasks, so you couldn't really directly port eating championship techniques, but they could be adapted, I suppose.


Not that I really have time, but...

It's Monday! That means it's art time. Let's see the piece this week:

Please to be ignoring the doodles. This is pretty indicative of my general drawing style. I tend to use longer sweeping lines for form and curvature, and quite a bit more lead on the precise bits, here the eye and the curve of the beak.


I'm *in* the band.

So, my punk band, hello blacksmith, would like to play a venue this summer other than Martin's basement. I think it'd be pretty cool. I have no idea how these things work though. Maybe I'll talk to Daniel Balough. We've talked about also trying to get double-guitar acoustic sets at Buzz or Dunn's, because that would likewise be cool. I would be playing steel-string or banjo, Martin would be playing steel-string or gutstring. The acoustic sessions would probably be mostly covers, and to that end...any suggestions? Things on the list (I'll update this if people give suggestions):

*I Could Have Lied by the Red Hot Chili Peppers
*The Little Things Give You Away by Linkin Park

To help me (and help you....to help me help you?), I'm going to be organizing a regular update schedule, as well as an irregular update schedule: if I have something interesting to say, or w/e, I'll just post it as I want to, but I'll shoot for at least one regular update every couple of days. However, in addition to that, every Monday will be 'Artsy Fartsy Mondays', every Thursday will be 'Dichter des Donnerstags'. So come back tomorrow for the first Artsy Fartsy Monday!

That needs a new name. Suggestions?

Thank you, thank you, you're far too kind.

Hi everyone. This is going to be my new blog. I have had trouble updating my lj very often, mostly because I worry about how people react. I always felt like I never had anything of interest to say, and that if I did, it had to be really interesting, otherwise people wouldn't like it. I mostly ended up posting poetry, but nobody ever had anything to say about that. The colors got me down too.

And the interface. You gotta hate bad GUIs.

Anyways, for anybody who doesn't know, my name is Colin, and I'm a student at Macalester college in St. Paul, MN. I'm a computer science major, with mathematics and German studies minors. I enjoy playing music, writing poetry, drawing, typesetting, roleplaying and, of course, listening to music.