In announcing Dr. Kissinger's appointment, President Bush said he and the new chairman "share the same commitments."

From today's NT Times. This is complete and absolutely the nail in the US coffin. The United States of America is ridiculous and obviously no longer even pretending to be a representational government.
Let me tell the future: Kissinger finds naw-theeeeng. Nothing. Nothing. Until the next administration which like the one's that brought on the re-investigation of the Warren Commission, and the Iran-Contra hearings (hello? Contragate anyone? May I take one more moment and point out that all the current monkeys from past administrations Bush and Reagan are back with us? May I also remind ((myself, as I assume no one is reading this and this is jus tmy private rant into the underworld, which will probably only get me thrown into some internment camp 5 years from now)) folk that the 80's SUCKED. Crack? Hello? homeless crisis? AIDS? Hello? Anyone? Bueller?
Agh. And now I'm not in college, I don't know what to do to register my hatred with this. Everyone seems to agree that it sucks but no one knows what to do.
We should all just stop buying stuff. That's the only thing that will make a difference.
Dag.

"Last night, something fairly big hit me like a ton of bricks. It finally dawned on me that I, Kevin Seconds, am no longer making music/art for juveniles. That's right, me, Mr. Young Til I Die, no longer relates to what is young, what is now, what is cool and what is hip. I no longer feel the need to speak to the youth from a youthful standpoint. I mean, I'm not a kid, for crying out loud. I'm a fully grown, married, business-owning middle-aged guy. How in the fuck could I possibly relate to people who have been weaned on Lollapaloooza, Warped Tour, George Bushes 1 & 2, Bill Clinton and MTV's The Real World? I can't and I don't even want to. I respect and try to support quite a few young people. When I see that glimmer of intelligence, wit, talent and a cool fucked up sense of humor in someone under the age of 25, I applaud them and feel hopeful. The sad part is, either there aren't too many fo them out there or I am no longer in a good position to see them." -kevin seconds

Hell yes Kevin. He captured in a short paragraph what's been eatin' at me for far too long...and I was never the posterboy for a brigade of youth (heee!). All hail the evolution of our punk rock souls. Whatever happened to the "fucked up sense of humor" in punk rock anyway (I think it's also called "irony")? I miss that - the intelligence and insolence and that whole feeling like it didn't really matter what you did, cause everyone was just gonna ignore you anyway, so for crying out loud HAVE FUN. People should have more fun and less "partying". Y'know?

here's how out of the loop i am - michael jackson has not one but three children? and an ex-wife who's not the daughter of Elvis? Where and when did all this happen? I think i sort of remember something about the first kid - what with the messed up name ("Prince Michael" jeezus, how much money do you have to have before you become that insane? and additionally, as i often remark on this subject WHAT IS IT with Diana Ross' influence that would drive a man to MJ's depths..??), but now he's got 2 kids with the same name? How is it that no one has pulled MIkey aside and gone, "Seriously, urhm, Jacko, you need to seek help". I mean, come on! Man is swinging his little baby rerun over a railing and his face is held on with staples and no one says anything? Who says money can't buy everything?
Meanwhile, and this is totally unrelated (and therefore, somehow, appropriate) note, as I'm walking through foggy chinatown (or the ID if yer one of those uber PC types) this morning I was suddenly thinking about Jamaica. Somehow, 7am in Seattle's ID eminded me of evening in Montego Bay, which launched a bunch of memories...sometimes i completely forget i've been to Jamaica.

rarely does a movie suck even more than the reviews say it does...but holymotherofkevinseconds does Episode 2 blow. Now, granted, i had read enough (and heard) that it wasn't all that, so we didn't even bother getting the "YoDaMan"-hawked DVD edition to watch...but i seriously doubt it would have helped to have 6 hours of explanation of all the effects that were attempted in order to compensate for a script that just flat out blew. And bring back the muppets, the cgi-actor thing (enough with the damn JarJar!! Enough I beg of you George!) is tedious. I miss Yoda looking like a throw pillow, though it was pretty fun watching him duel Sauraman (ooh, sorry). Meanwhile, I know Natalie Portman is a better actress, as is Sam Jackson, so I'm gonna assume all the other actors are good too, and they were being forced at paycheck-point to read their lines like it was a 4th grade play. Yes, yes, I realize and try to keep in mind that the whole series is based on 50's matinee movie serials, so it's all supposed to be very melodamatic, but come on. The stiffness was unbearable. Few things in this world make me wish for the return of Mark Hamill to the screen, or wax nostalgic about the witty repartee between Harrison and Carrie, but damn, no amount of clones or explosions (the best part, and unfortunately shortest and last part) can save this "saga". I mean, if Anikin (god i hope i'm spelling that wrong) is gonna be EVIL, then lets see some slaughter!! I hate to state the obvious, but I quite enjoyed all the violence in LOTR, and in the extended version, among other wonderful (WONDERFUL!) scenes was a bit more gore. There should be more blood (or at least some more severed limbs and exploding entrails) in the Star Wars thing. Though obviously that would screw up Lucas' plan to reduce his epic into a kiddie show. Finally (ahem) the ending: flat out bad. I haven't NOT wanted to see a sequel since....since episode 1 actually. I mean, we all know how it goes from here,. so what, you wanna see Natalie (if they pull it off, has it started filming yet? is it written?) pregnant? eeewwww.

aww, shay...oasis...heh. what two things could be more evocative of each other?
moving soon. a good thing, but i'll miss the view, the park and the smell of the ocean on foggy mornings.

Ok. I'm ready to admit it - when I first heard the first Patton FNM record, I jumped around and danced on the bed. I'm listening to that album right now - in full old-school cassette-style, and man, the amazing thing is how certain music just defines a very specific time. It has this unique sound, that 10 (12, actually) years later, and though it's been copied to death (I have to admit it's FNM's fault that Linkin Park exist at all, surely), it's still a blast of unique rock and roll with this unquatifiable, but certain punk rock flavor...(more later)

Man. Sometimes I miss having the MostCrushworthyBoyInTheWorld in my life so much that it just burns. Sure part of that is the realization that I brought it on myself, and part of it it knowing that because he was attached and yet being MY pal, it was probalby destined to not turn out well. But goddamn that doesn't quell the ache in my heart, the missing that sarcastic, understanding, mutual-music-loving guy alot sometimes. He's married now, I'm married now. He doesn't play drums in a band (that I'm aware of) anymore, and may not even be in the city anymore (I'm too chicken to ask our mutual friends if my hunch is correct) and I'm not playing in a band anymore, and am miserable in that part. I miss meeting up with him for lunch. I miss the silly repartee that we'd engage in. I miss him making cool tapes for me and indulging my aging punk rock eccentricities. I miss going to Bumbershoot with him...I miss seeing that band play (they still play, and I keep saying I'll go, and then wimp out.) I dunno...I guess I just have no business listening to Old 97's or Wilco anymore at all. It fucking hurts. We used to laugh so much, we never, ever argued or had a bad moment, until the very last one. The I got sick, vanished, came back and things were different, and I didn't make good choices. All I can do now is remember the good parts fondly, yeah? And try not to let that sort of bullshit happen again. But I doubt I'll ever run accross someone like him again. I miss that friendship more than any other I've ever lost.
Drivel.

Well, then again maybe not. i keep hoping that my urge to post will reinvent itself, and i will resume crafting funny little bits of nonfiction and propoganda for the teeming masses that lurk out there somewhere...but so far it's no go. It seems like theres much to say, yet after having so many people read my other journal, it kinda took the fun out of it. And, on top of that, my new domseticated life doesn't seem nearly as rife with funny shit. I don't spend near the time just walking the dog even. That simple act in itself usually served as a surefire source of writing material. But lately I don't go on those wals so much anymore, mostly because now I'm joined by an often argumentative eight (soon to be 9) year old. So it's a different gig.
Then, there are the dissappointments. The former tour manager/enemy who turned friend and confidant (sorta) and then back to just sort of pal, has all but written the words: well yer married, see ya.
Not that there was ever any sort of romance going on (at least not that I could tell - I would have been all for it, but if he was interested in it he certainly never made it clear to me. But then, often they don't, do they?)...it's just, I kinda miss that connection. Now that it appears Mike has finally disengaged himself from my life for good - it's just sad. i was really happy and proud that
adam and i had reestablished the friendship, and only to have it fade anyway. Sucks.
Ah well. There's also the disappointment of Rodney and meeting up with him & his family, and them obviously blowing us off - so it's clear his wife is still a bit pissed about me telling her that she was the "worst manager I've ever worked for" 4 years ago. Or was it five? Something like that. Almost 4 since the whole S incident too.
Huh. This isn't helping. Must go and sort this out first.

Hands up who wants to hear about Scraps and the Cat?

I was getting all verbose and cute over at the old diary land and realized i dislike that silly interface way to much to be still posting there, however sporadically. i've noticed too that hits have dried up, whereas before it was linking from every google search on the planet. i suppose that's cause i haven't updated in a while, but cest la vie (command what?).
so here I am again. Listening to Oasis, which makes me smile, but not cause I'm a huge fan or anything (though I think WTSMG? is a perfectly listenable cd, so there) but because every boy I know has historically HATED them. Anyway, I like having people scrunch up their faces and make some sort of snide dig at me listening to Oasis. What can I say, I loooove causing angst in the most sideways manners. (causing dischord? go figure - heh!)
So yesterday found me knee-deep in night court drama yet again. the wonders of the judicial system continue to mystify and amaze. luckily, Hizzonor was in a benevolent mood and let me go with just a mild reprimand. Whatta guy. Being back in the Public Safety building was a treat too, though I had originally gone to the Jail as per usual and found the courtroom locked. Bounding over and across a coupla blocks I made it before they got to my name on the docket. Sweaty, but present.
Yeah. Today, as I babysit ridiculously arcane jobs chugging away on the machines, I am continuing my bid to scan all the major photos from the Agent 86 archive. Am doing the last (and best, I think) photos from 2nd tour, and as I listen to Jawbreaker (hey, even I can only take so much British Preening Earpablum) it's just another spin down the punk rock memory highway. Where did I exit? Riiight. Okay then off I go. I'm making several slideshows courtesy of a dutch Sony site, for whatever that's worth.....

But wait, there's more! More, more more, as long as the punk rock holds out., i forget sometimes, how the punk rock energizes me. Yes, I may be 35, and yeah, I may hold down a pendantic job, and yeah, I may be a parent to an 8-year old with an inherited fixation on HORRIBLE pop singers, but goddamn, I love me some Horace Pinker. I'll trumpet them far and wide, still. Good guys, wonderful band. Everytime I listen to Horace Pinker, I feel renewed. Not like when I listen to Juno and feel - what? Challenged, which is good, in a different way. But with the HP, I feel vindicated. Like all the good things that I remember from punk rock, from when I was a part of it (becaiuse I feel estranged from it now) and all it gave me - it's there in their music. That's why they rock. If you don't have it, any of it (Copper Regret, Pop Culture Failure, Power Tools, all the 7", any of it, get it now. Now, Now NOW.
I mean, if you like the poppunkrock, of course.

So, yeah, I got interrupted in the middle yesterday, and hauled off to a lovely meeting about health insurance and how much it's going to cost this year (substantially more, it turns out, oooh, big shock that)..vital stuff. But I don't want to bitch about work, because, well, that's just dull. What I wanted to get down was that in the end it all comes back to Mick Jagger. See, I'm not a big fan, but I find our man Mick, and to a lesser degree, his boys (otherwise generally known as The Rolling Stones. Except for those hardcore Keith Richards fans, who will go head to head with you about who's more important and to who I say: Heroin does not trump glam, sorry. So there.
Jeezus. Anyway, it's been a bit dull on the public transpo lately, which is good in that I like a stress free commute more than anything, and have found two very quiet routes to take me to and from work. How-ev-er. I do miss the nutty wacky hijinks of a whacked route (like say, the 7, the mythical bus route that serves all the fringe elements, running from the Rainier District to the U with stops in the always dismal Capitol Hill neighborhood, bustling downtown (mmmmhmm, 2nd and Union baybee) and points in between). You know, the colorful characters potion of this show we call Life. Right. So imagine my delight when the one scruffy guy who disembarks at my stop joins me in waiting for the light to hange so we can cross, and he asks how my day was.
My day happened to have sucked, but I just told him it had been so far, so good, as far as days went, and then asked him how he was.
He broke into a huge grin and tossed his scraggly haired head back and forth "Awww, it's a great day, I got my tickets for the Stones this morning!" he said with unbridled enthusiasm. I grinned immediately watching his face light up as he told me about how he had stoof in line this morning ("I even brought my lawn chair") and was the first in line when the box office opened at 10am.
Box office? Huh. I haven't bought tickets to a show at a box office in a loooooong time. Meanwhile, as we chatted I mentioned that I had tickets to the Rolling Stones show back in (*cough*) 1982 ('83? something like that) and hadn't seen them since. He leaned forward and there was a distinct glimmer in his eye, "I haven't seen 'em since 1975 in San Fransisco (would that make it Altamont? naw, that was like '69, right? damn hippie history), and they were great then, they'll be great now."
I offered that it would be a trip to see them now comparing the two - but he wouldn't have it.

What's it take to get me writing again? Is it the bile that wells up inside of me as I read that the FBI is currently visiting libraries to investigate what people are reading? Perhaps. See, here's the thing: I know i wasn't the only person who had to read George Orwell's 1984 in high school...yet I seem to be the only person (except, of course for the SingleMostRockingGuyEver, who, in case it's been so long that you've forgotten, goes by the more managable nom de something SMRGE) who seems to notice a striking relationship to current events and that fine piece of what I'm sure was intended to be caustionary fiction (unlike Hitler's masterwork, which I do believe was a primer for how to bring this on, and obviously something the folks in the White House (and it's underground caves) are studiously reviewing step by civil-rights squashing and frenzy-stirring step)? Huh? Anyone? Other than Wil Wheaton I mean.
Okay. Sure, I could rant on about all that, but honestly

Okay, lemme try again. I'm broke and the new GBV album sounds like a Who album. There would have been a time when I thought that was a good thing, but now I think it's just kinda dull. I didn't expect the vocals to be so light and young. Weird. Yet another band I really haven't paid attention to (much like the Replacements) and now, 10 years later (or whatever) they're being held up as iconic.
Iconic, ironic.
Yeah.
Meanwhile, the Mid-east simmers on. My solution to this age old question? Sanctions against Israel until they fucking grow up and make a deal to share the region's wealth. Yes, I mean land and power. There is no other way. Fighting terrorism with opression doesn't work. When has it ever worked? That's right. Opression, armed military or any other variety only breeds more ingrained and desperate opposition. Fuck the state of Israel. They have no more "right" to their country as anyone else. How dare they deny the majority population recognition.
Sound familiar? Sound like 1989 all over again? Bush=Bush. Apartheid, homelands, the mid-East in turmoil.
Meanwhile the US murders afghanis while no one looks and we chastize Serbia for defending themselves, yet crow about Israel's "rights". Not rocket science here, in my mind.

In breaking news today: the lionsuit-wearing drummer of the mysterious Tullycraft is currently driving for us. There was a thoroughly unfortunate and awkward reunion of sorts in dispatch just minutes ago. I walked up and asked "Jeff?" and he looks at me blankly and goes "Yes?" smiling patiently, then together we said "Michelle."
Mumbled utterings about T-craft reunions followed, and then I dawdled off, feeling like a dork. It was weird having someone not recognize me. That sounds much more arrogant than it is: I'm just weird, and usually people remember me. But then again, I was blonder, younger, and possibly thinner then too.
Meanwhile, UPS brought me a new toy for work today, and I am all acquivvvvvver with delight. Ahem.
Also, the book isn't happening. No real writing is happening. Days are passing in the worst possible way: unnotably. Reading Juno's tour diary does not help the situation. Gah.
Would very much like to venture forth east o' the mountains and do some riding at some point this weekend.

damn, that josh hooten is a funny, funny guy. if you like yer funny political (as i do), and maybe you miss ol' josh's column in Punk Planet, then you should go to Mixtape , where he dishes out the tres amusing stuff almost every week or so. remember the days when "punk rock" and "intelligent" were interchangable?

So the very best thing about the punk rock is the community, right? Well, at least that's the thing that still amazes me. I was walking to work today, and heard someone call my name, and I turned to find it was one of the many ex-Agent 86 drummers that populate this wacky, crazy place we call Earth. This particular drummer, Karl, has always been one of my favorites because not only did we share our time in A86, but we also shared the fabulous 3+ weeks that made up the final part of the Detonators and Beggars tour back int he Spring of '92. We run into each other from time to time, and it's always a pleasant suprise. That tour with the Dets was a life-changing time for me, and I suspect it may have been for him too. As always, a punk rock US tour, DIY style forces a lot of issues into the harsh light of reality. I was along as a driver he was there as the drummer, and it all comes crashing back to me when I see him. Things I don't think about much any more, things I miss, things I don't. Most of all, that feeling of driving through the Canadian Rockies, leaving Calgary at 7 in the morning, all the Dets asleep in the van, listening to the classical station (the only thing that would come in on the radio) and contemplating where my life was headed. Who would have guessed it was here.

Huh. Ok then. We'll give it a go. I'm giving back in to the need to ramble incessently, and will enjoy the anonymity of no one knowing where to find me right now. I mean sure, the diaryland journal still gets hits everyday, mostly on older entries that dte back to my free-and-easy days of being a retired punk rocker with an easy job and loads of free time on my hands. 'Tis not the case now, things are very different. Married, raising my husband's eight-year-old kid and still trying to dip my toe in the indie-punk rock world that so very much shaped my reality. So, we'll see how this goes. It's easier now, and I like the format and the interface. Watch me jump on the Blogger bandwagon, and if yer curious about what came before, the past is at //hopey.diaryland.com

testing again, almost ready for possible lift-off.

checking to see if one day i'll have insert clever phrase here, here.