"This man's heart is deficient. He loves, but his love is worth nothing"

It's sorta impossible to know the unknown. There's no way you can create a vision or an idea that wasn't there before and suddenly know it without it having been someplace hidden in your mind prior to your experience. Nothing that's new hasn't been old in another way before. It's all a recycling process. The bits and pieces remain the same, the trick is the way in which we choose to put them together. That's what we think separates the old and the new. It's all old though. It's fulfilling something that's old, but it's never been fulfilled so it seems new. And that's why there's no point in doing anything and we'd all be better off killing ourselves. Thank you and goodnight. Tonight didn't turn out too bad. I chose to spend it with the lovely Lauren Eggers and we had a time. Grabbed a Starbuck and watched Part I of what is possibly one of the greatest movies/plays of this generation, Angels in America. Everything about the thing is amazing. Tony Kushner's incredibly good at playing smart. Politics, he's stupid as shit. But the mimickry of intelligence is far more captivating to me than a geniune ignorance of what's smart. The core of originality is about subverting the obvious. Sometimes that in and of itself can become a genre. But then we have to think of what's new and continue to discover what's next. For those of you in our studio audience that are wondering what exactly was in my coffee or if it was somehow an Irish coffee, I can assure you that I'm is doesn't can there. And that's the greatest gift of all.

"We thank thee then, O Father, for all things bright and good"

Keggers and myself spent an evening at the theatre. Pretty much the whole night. The damn thing went on for about 7 hours. It was an uneven show but when the bright spots came, they were very bright. There's a very specific energy that comes from the experience of live theatre. As stagey as much of it is, there's a certain emotion to it that seems less disingenuous than other entertainmnent mediums. The people are right there. You're hearing their voices. You're hearing those instruments. It's not a representation. There hasn't been a process through which the person's actual talent has been distorted for better or worse. It's there in its purest form. One of the night's highlights was the perfomance of "All Good Gifts" from Godspell. They dedicated it to a member of the cast of their original cast that died. Some of the background performers started to weep during the song. And it was really something because it wasn't a sort of moment that was engineered or anticipated or even professional. It just happened. They had a good show.

"Whaa mistuh Sheffield?"

Click on the cut. The trip is worth it. We had a pretty wild night tonight. First Jared decided to watch some TV. He kept flipping through the channels And he briefly viewed some women's softball "WHAT DA HELL IS DIS?!" Then there was the epic duel of guitars. Jordan busted out a slick ditty. And Jared tried his hand at one. Jordan was displeased. He retaliated with a rockin' tune of his own. "Now that wasn't bad dude BUT...listen to this one" "Now let me just put my index finger on the G-string and the pinky over here and the ring finger right on the..." And all of a sudden..."YOU SONUMBITCH!!" And he nailed Jordan right in the melon. It hurt. "What now bitch?!" Now Jared was free to play what he thought was the most glorious tune to ever grace human ears. It sucked. But it didn't matter how good it was, for Jordan was resting eternally in the afterlife. Or was he?

"I told many, many people"

I try to keep my mind occupied with ideas. But the well's running dry. It's been running dry for years. I find myself latching onto the newest catchphrase or whatever the talking animals on TV tell me to buy. Where's the originality? Where's the creativity? There's a consistent lack of meaning throughout the past weeks. School's gone. There's literally not a reason to get up in the morning. It's all starting to run together. Consumerism and self-satisfaction are becoming synonymously empty. There's always a religion to turn to. A God to pray to. But it turns out that God and I aren't as good of buddies as I thought we were. Sometimes I wonder if he did pull up that Escalade and haul ass out of town that one summer night. But then I turn on the TV to find a Cheers rerun and pretend to forget about it. The more and more I think about my life the less and less I value it. What's my job? According to the man at the pulpit we're supposed to have servant's hearts. Some of the most amazing people I know have servant's hearts. So does that mean you can walk up to me and ask for a beej and I'll give it to you? (Don't ask me for a beej) Are beejs fair game? I can't think of more than a handful of people who's goodness is motivated out of something outside of pride, fear, or guilt. Most people are bastards. Most people are bastard coated bastards with bastard filling with a side dish of jackass. Not one relationship can I think of in the past 3 years in which the love and respect was genuinely equivocal. One side of the scale always seems to tip the other no matter what. Whatever happened to compromise? It's hard to distinguish the courtesies between the real thing. It's hard to seperate anything from the real thing. Until a couple of days ago I didn't consider the possibility that the smartass sonofabitch shtick wasn't just a desperate "LOOKATME!" means of elevating oneself above everyone else in the room. Most people weren't the smartest kid in the class. Most people didn't like the smartest kid in the class. So what'd they do? Make fun of smartest kid in the class until one day everyone bought the idea that intelligence was a vice.