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the world is not enough, but it is such a perfect place to start.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

life without internet: a short story

hello again. so, before we get into all this, let's just get one thing straight......yes, i started a blog. yes, it was my intention to document the goings on of my life. but who am i to be so presumptuous to believe that anyone out there would care? care if i moved back to boston? care if i am recovering from a grueling surgery? care if the apartment jared and i are subletting has no internet? i mean honestly, do you people have nothing better to do? i sure hope not!


i could lay in bed from the moment i wake up until the moment i fall back asleep and do nothing but watch the simpsons with occasional bathroom breaks. it's not my fault. seasons 5-10 are especially spectacular and there's nothing to be ashamed of. not to mention i could do the same for king of the hill, daria, and south park. (i am a sucker for animated television series) i know that i am a musician and i do not own a t.v. and i am totally above the lowly suburban idiocy of television addiction but i can not resist. gimme a fucking break. i don't smoke cigarettes or stay out late drinking. and maybe we should just round up the alcohol addled masses and give them some dvd's of "the critic". it stinks.


back to this "the apartment i am staying at for the month of may does not have internet business". it's not a fucking joke. that's right. my 89 year-old grandmother who gave up her technological advances after the movable printing press has internet, but my temporary globe-trotting, grad students do not. i always wondered how that would feel. having the internet taken away from you like an ill-behaved child having it's favorite toy truck snatched away. poor little boy. i feel your pain. i too, feel as though i do not deserve this.


these days i am just working part-time at flour bakery and getting my shit together before i go back to school in september. you're goddamn right i am going back to school in september. might i also add that i am scared shitless. it's not fair. it's not fair that i, after all these years of unabashed, unwavering confidence (or cockiness, i guess i'll let you decide) am finally feeling the fear of failure settle in the back of my mind. i'm fucking scared. i can't help but answer the call of that relentless nagging. the nagging that reminds me that i did not in fact graduate from school and that yes, someday i might regret that. sitting on the sidelines of jared's graduation this past saturday killed me. i was so happy for him. so proud. he had accomplished something that a majority of people who he went to high school with will never do. but hey, what separates me from the leicester townies? i didn't graduate either. the resentment sets in. is it jared's fault that he stuck to it? of course not. but is it my fault that i left school to pursue a career doing the only thing i could ever see myself doing? again, no.


i can't help but feel that i failed somehow. it's not like i have nothing to show for the last 4 or so years. i have SO MUCH to show. that's not enough though. with all of my musical endeavors in the works i need to be doing something else with the free time that i inevitably will have. working 50 hours a week at city feed sure ain't gonna fuel my fire. it for damn sure didn't this past fall and winter. i might as well do something to better myself as a musician. i guess going back to berklee can't do any harm. so, yes. i will do it.


p.s. jared and i have our 2 year anniversary in june. and what better to mark the close of the two most wonderful years of my life than the opportunity for him to move to l.a. and begin working in a studio in hollywood. i am not even going to start in on this subject. at least, not until i can type in the comfort of my own home where i can sob and snivel over the keyboard with the comfort of knowing that all of these people at ula cafe can't see me. as far as i know.


well, i guess i will write again. whenever the wind blows and carries an internet signal my way.

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