You know what's awesome? Being unemployed.

Yup, I'm unemployed right now, and I'm not being sarcastic about it being awesome. For those of you who need some catching up...

Last October, I quit my eight-year job at a local resort to work as "Communications Consultant" for Sprint PCS. Basically , I was a commission sales representative who also had to handle lots of non-commission customer service (getting yelled at by customers). The well-paying commission half of it made the the other half easier to swallow. Unfortunately, the in-store competition, coupled with low-customer traffic,  lead some of the other employees to engage in some less-than-ethical  sales practices.
After some time, these factors made it very difficult for me to make my sales. My low sales numbers lead to probation and, at the eleventh hour, my resignation.
Now, I had only heard about these snakes in my store doing fucked up things. That is, until my very last day. I caught one of our top performers in the act.
At once, I felt betrayed and relieved. On one hand, this person looked me in the eye every day and called me "homie" or whateverthefuck, while stabbing my in the back. On the other hand, I probably would have somewhat missed the job if I hadn't seen that sort of treachery first-hand. As it is, I am now glad to be rid of the job.
...So it goes.

Oh, and you Sprint customers reading this, don't worry. The victims of this deceit were not the customers. No no, the victims were colleagues, friends, and acquaintances.

Anyway, a week before I left the job, I went to Vegas where I won a decent sum of money. This is going to allow me to go a full month without a job.
Now, I haven't had more than two weeks off in a row in about nine years, so this is a big deal for me.
I am waiting to hear back from a job, but they are in no hurry, so neither am I. I am going to sit around, write and record songs, get some much-needed exercise, and just have as much fun as I can. About a month from now, I'll be going to Greer for a few days with Molly and her family, after which I will begin working again, doing god-knows-what.

Oh yeah, about my stomach, I can pretty much eat whatever I want now. I don't know if I am better, but maybe when I have insurance again I'll find out.

So if anyone wants to hang out, call me. I've got nothing to do!

As many of you are already aware, I have some serious dental problems. In an effort to rectify this, I went to an Endodontist to get a root canal. Thanks to my insurance, it only cost about two-hundred bucks, and the procedure was completely painless. The after-effects, however, were pretty hard to deal with.

Due to the inflammation involved in a such a procedure, I was told to take plenty of ibuprofen, three at a time in fact, even though the bottle only says to take two. The doctor told me the pain from the root canal should only last about a week. Two months, a bottle of antibiotics, a surgical procedure requiring eight stitches in my gums, and three bottles of ibuprofen later... my tooth still hurt ...and now so did my stomach.

I was having bad stomach pains after eating or drinking. Reading the back of the ibuprofen bottle, I quickly deduced that I had taken entirely too much for entirely too long. My stomach lining was being eaten away I promptly stopped taking it. I started eating only bland food and taking some Prevacid my doctor gave me.
My stomach pains started getting worse, so I went to Urgent Care last Monday.
I turns out my worn-down stomach lining led way to an ulcer.

This drudges up two former experiences.

The first of which happened about a year ago. I had a nagging sore throat, which lasted longer than a sore throat ought to without developing into a cold.
I left work early and went to urgent care. They told me I had a sinus infection and prescribed amoxicilin, an antibiotic. What followed was the worst allergic reaction that I had ever had and, as it was, caused me much more pain and frustration than the sinus infection itself. Fucking hives.

For the second, we'll rewind a bit further to many years ago. This time, the similarity isn't so literal. Surely you, the clever reader, will identify the correlation.
I had an '85 Honda Accord that needed a new radiator. I purchased one at Autozone and installed it myself. About a week later, I noticed that my transmission was not shifting as smoothly as before. While checking the transmission fluid, I was confused to find, not transmission fluid, but a concrete grey substance happily lubricating my transmission. Hmmm...
For good measure, I checked my radiator fluid as well and found the same grey substance cooling my engine. Hmmm...
As it happened, the radiator I bought, in a very routine effort to cool my transmission fluid via a line running along the underside of the radiator, had crossed the two fluid lines, marrying the Ecto-Cooler-green coolant and the kiwi-strawberry-pink transmission fluid to create a dense grey muck. This muck cost me about $800 in further repairs and cleansing flushes.
Autozone took back the defective radiator and gave me a full refund, but clearly stated that they do not cover consequential damages. I was told that I could take up the rest of the damages with the manufacturer of the radiator. I took down the company's name and fantasized about calling Tom Martino (AM radio's "The Troubleshooter"), but, just like the apathetic American youth corporations are counting on to drop the ball, I did just that.
I guess that's what I get for buying the $140 radiator rather than the $180 one.

Anyway, I've been waiting for almost a week for test results so I can get some antibiotics. Meanwhile my stomach hurts like holy hell every time I eat or drink anything, and I am forbidden to eat anything remotely spicy, acidic, greasy, tough, or alcoholic. I haven't eaten any foods of those types in over a month, and, the way things are going, I probably won't be able to for a few more weeks.

All I want right now, more than anything in the world, is a goddam hamburger.

I just read over everything. God, am I boring! I promise I'll write more blogs from now on to redeem myself.

Do you know those bumper stickers that say Someone I Loved Was Killed by a Drunk Driver? It's a shocking and depressing way to raise awareness about drunk driving. Effective or not, I understand completely what it's purpose is.

The other day, I was driving and I saw a bumper sicker that said:

Someone I Loved was Murdered

Alright, now this is just ridiculous. The drunk driving stickers I mentioned above were obviously made because of how common drunk driving is. After seeing the sticker, one might be shaken and show a bit more sense next time they think about driving after drinking, or one might be more likely to stop a friend from driving drunk. Either way, the sticker might very well have a positive impact.

But Someone I Loved was Murdered?! What the hell is the purpose of that? Surely, no one is going to see the sticker and have an epiphany: "Well, I was going to kill that guy later, but on second thought, that would probably make some people very sad. Maybe I'll just join the army, instead."

That sticker, as far as I can tell, is just begging others to feel sorry for them. Why stop there? Why not Someone I Loved was Killed by a Pack of Wolves or Someone I Loved was Killed by Their Own Stupidity?

Maybe I'm just missing the point. If anyone has a better explanation for this sticker, I'd love to hear it, but until then, I'm going to start making stickers of all the shitty things that happen to me on a day-to-day basis and plastering them all over my car.

The role of an editor in fiction today is very different than it was a long time ago. An editor's job used to be to nurture the youthful inexperienced talent of an author. An editor would identify a writer's potential, then help him realize this potential, to hone his skill and achieve greatness, to make each work on some level an improvement on the previous.
Editors today seem to function purely as representatives of publishers, only suggesting omissions and slight changes where necessary. I don't exactly know why this is. Perhaps the industry has become much more profit driven than it used to be. Editors may only be looking out for a publisher’s monetary investment, in lieu of putting out great work. Maybe this is why I rarely care for contemporary literature.
I don't pretend to know any more about the subject than I have already blathered on about, so I'm not sure when this change occurred. If I had to guess based solely on quality, I would say editors ceased to give this kind of encouragement sometime in the sixties or seventies.

To bring this all closer to my point (I haven't even gotten to my point yet, since I decided to get my tangent out of the way first for a change), was there ever anyone who filled that role for songwriters? I'm not talking about someone who stepped in for an album or two, but a producer or manager, for example, who stuck with an artist for most or his entire career, reinforcing the strengths of his talent.
Now I could be wrong, but the recording industry seems to be much more driven by greed than publishing houses. There is a classic battle between a rookie recording artist and his record label: the musician writes material, then the label tells him in which ways he could change it in order to make it more marketable - this continues back and forth until both parties come to an agreement.
Of course the tried-and-true veteran artists don't have to deal with this as much or at all. This isn't always a good thing. Under these circumstances, you often end up with an album like Radiohead’s Amnesiac.
Couldn't there be a voice of reason, an appreciator of music working alongside the songwriter, not picking sides between the record label and the artist, but rather looking to produce quality material?

This, to those of you still reading, is exactly what I need. I need some breathing room. I need to stretch out my arms, sit back, and let loose some of this mess of ideas that is swirling around my mind, distracting me from everything else, just waiting to get swallowed up by the black hole that is my poor memory. It's hard to picture an end to the drudgery of my everyday existence. I work all the time because I have to. Though the rut I'm in is partially due to general bad luck, I take responsibility for most of it, so save your sympathy.

I realize the idea of having a Maxwell Perkins to my F. Scott Fitzgerald is incredibly far-fetched, so I'm not looking for that. What I am looking for is a financier of sorts. I need a philanthropic individual who can provide me with room and board, maybe some money for my bills. Don't get me wrong; I'm no charity case. I can cook and do house and/or yard work, though I draw the line at having to look after children.
All other services, however, are open to negotiation.

*wink*

pl.n. (used with a sing. or pl. verb) A skin condition characterized by intensely itching welts and caused by an allergic reaction to internal or external agents, an infection, or a nervous condition. Also called nettle rash, urticaria.

I recieved this text message the other day: Dear rocko, hope this letter finds you in good health. The cold winter nights are almost more than a man can take. I've not seen the sun in a fort night. Regards, Sir S. T. Ninja

I sometimes steal pictures or drawings from various different sources (old movies, Lichtenstein, etc.) and use them to promote myself. Here is a collection of flyers for shows that either my bands (The Retainers, Oh Yeah), myself (Carl Johnson), or close friends (Ladies and Gentlemen, Chango Malo) have played. They aren't great, but I have alot of fun doing them.

Are there any albums that, from beginning to end, you would not change one thing about? (Yes, this is me encouraging you to post something.) Think of a record that has no lulls in its greatness, just hit after hit. Think of a record that gives you chills. Think of a record that, no matter how many times you listen to it, you will never be sick of hearing it. Some of my favorite records have a song or two that I like less than the rest. Those do not count here. I'm looking for absolute perfection. Out of the 660 albums I have, I can think of five examples: Rilo Kiley The Execution of All Things This is what started me on this kick. I truly believe this is one of the greatest records of all time. I had this album on repeat for weeks, before taking a large break from it. Upon returning to it recently, I came to the definitive realization that I cannot possibly live without this album. It is everything that I like about music, all rolled into twelve consecutive tracks! It is beautiful, sweet, sad, fun, energetic, and quirky. The consistent lyrical imagery and low-fi waltz interludes really glue the whole package together nicely. Every goddam note and beat is exactly where it should be. I only hope to someday write an album that is one tenth what this album is. Jets to Brazil Orange Rhyming Dictionary I actually disliked this album when it first came out. I am a huge Jawbreaker fan (for those of you who don't know, Blake Schwarzenbach, the songwriter from Jawbreaker, started this band years after Jawbreaker broke up), and I was expecting this to sound a lot like Jawbreaker. It actually sounds more like a mix between Jawbreaker and the Psychedelic Furs. Don't get me wrong, I love the Psychedelic Furs, but at first I was a bit put off by this record. I ended up putting the album on repeat for a good long while, and after over six years, I am still not sick of it. The entire record has a steady and haunting mechanical feel. The lyrics travel through depressing, paranoid, morbid, and ultimately rest on somewhat charming with "Sweet Avenue," the record's final track. It's kind of like a happy ending to a pretty intense story. Both Jets to Brazil albums following this one could not live up to this one for me, though I still like them very much. I also like Jawbreaker better as a band, but this album as a whole tops any Jawbreaker release. The Weakerthans Left and Leaving First off, John K Samson is one of my favorite lyricists of all time. I bought the Weakerthans' Fallow when the Canadian version first came out and was pleasantly surprised that a member of the rhythm section of Canada's political punk band Propagandhi was actually a really good songwriter. Though, it wasn't until Left and Leaving came out that I really fell in love with the band. It is rare that I buy an album with lyrics that I can read (and very much enjoy) on their own, apart from the music. The music, of course, is not to be forgotten, ranging from delicate and pretty to loud and catchy. It never disappoints. Pedro the Lion Winners Never Quit There's nothing like a concept album about twisted morality, murder, and suicide, especially one this well-written. Dave Bazan's lyrics and his dry, dramatic voice give me goosebumps. The contrast of the mellow songs to the louder, harsher ones is perfect. From beginning to end, it tells an unsettling and incredibly engaging story Elliott Smith XO What I like about this album compared to other Elliott Smith albums is the arrangement and the classical influence on the songs. The songwriting, the production, the sweeping multi-layered harmonies, and the lyrics are all unforgettably brilliant. There is nobody out there like Elliott Smith, and I don't think anyone will ever truly come close to what he did as a songwriter. --- While writing this blog, I kept thinking of other albums that I should include. The list above is the smallest list I could come up with. Nevertheless, I would never forgive myself if I left any albums off of this inconsequential, probably-read-by-no-one list. So in the interest of satisfying my obsessive musical dorkiness, I give you... Honorable Mentions: Built to Spill There is Nothing Wrong with Love The Rentals Return of the Rentals Superchunk Here's Where the Strings Come In Desaparecidos Read Music/ Speak Spanish The Buzzcocks Love Bites The Shins Chutes Too Narrow The Apples in Stereo Discovery of a World Inside the Moone that dog. Retreat from the Sun The Gain Sing Ready Steady Smash Simon and Garfunkel Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme At the Drive-In Relationship of Command The Connie Dungs Earthbound for the Holiday The Anniversary Designing a Nervous Breakdown The Anniversary Your Majesty (The Anniversary deserves special attention for creating two brilliant and consistent albums that sound nothing alike.)