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Seamouse
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Name: Seamus
Metro:
Birthday: 10/28/1987
Gender: Male
Interests: seamouse@gmail.com
music:
talib kweli, outkast, everlast, the coup,
white stripes, incubus, death cab for cutie, radiohead, modest mouse, RATM, jimmy eat world, RHCP, eve 6, apex theory, adema, beastie boys, black eyed peas, cake, the who, the doors, pink floyd, jet, quarashi, gorillaz, primus, prodigy, crystal method, fat boy slim, system of a down, sublime
Expertise: everything is my expertise.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  Seamouse69
MSN: seamouse@hotmail.com
ICQ:  bah
Yahoo:  humbug
Jabber: scrooge mcduck
Member Since:
3/12/2004
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| Okay. I officially gave up Xanga a long time ago, because I grew tired of the concept of posting my daily routine online. So, instead, I'm going to turn this into a literature blog. When I write something I like, or something that I'm curious about how other people will feel about it (poetry, nonfiction, screenwriting, whatever), I'll post it on here. I've also linked it to my facebook, so these will all appear there, too. So, that's about it. To start thigns off, I'll post the first poem that I turned in for my poetry class (which is really a poem I wrote a year ago, but the teacher just wanted us to bring something, anything, into class).
Spin
I press my eyes shut like coat buttons
and lean against the concrete wall
littered with miniature Niagras that trickle out
the cracks of my nails, and I spin:
Metallic whirr igniting the first
steps on a merry-go-round that's
drilling deeper and deeper into the
core, blending grass and dirt and
sky, until an arm gets tangled
and snaps from the force of the other children,
and it stops.
The rivers fall down the wall
to my arms until my veins swell
with high tide, and the waves crash
and collide into my fingers, and I spin:
Metronome body swaying back
and forth like a grandfather clock
tick-tocking double time
and slinging shadows
by the blinded window,
the sun tracing stencils into tile,
barring in her dangling laces.
The buffalo hair on my arms
stampede over skin to trembling
mountains of muscle, running
to the edges of my wrist, and I spin:
Ivory bamboo clacking with a
cold rush as a train whips by,
the cold burn that pries apart
teeth and streamlines through
blood to make nails
scrape wood, bending rails
like reeds in the wind.
My arms are a surgeon operating
on his first patient, trembling with
the anticipation of steel pressing
into flesh, and I spin:
Mother in a rocking chair
knocking dominoes down the steps,
like Atlas holding the world
waiting for an obelisk to miss,
tapping her feet against wood
to the rhythm of children's clothes
tumbling in the dryer.
My heartbeat pulses
like phone calls to my
fingers that ring
every second, and I spin:
A thousand ceramic jars cracking
against bells,
colliding into quilled lines
and landing with
the drip-drop of rain sprinkling
beneath the dinging of bells
A revolver spins like chalk
dogs digging into tile
and the jangling of too many
bracelets over smooth skin
and the ringing of toll fair
in pockets crashing off car keys,
striking like claves
into the winding of ratchets,
clicking of heels, fingersnaps
and snapping of splashsticks
and tapdancers tapping morse code
barefoot over glass,
and I pull:
the sound of a marble dropping in a jail cell;
the hollow door-knocking sound
of a man's skull bouncing
to a pianissimo buzzing
and coughing on
the ground.
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| So this is the last day of band camp. Performance day. Overall, it's actually been pretty enjoyable, but maybe that's because, for the first time, I haven't actually had to do all of the work, I've just been teaching and helping others. But yeah, I miss band. And by going to the University of Chicago instead of U of M, I won't have a chance really to be in a marching band. So, that's kind of sad---but for me, I still think UChi's a lot better, and a much better environment for what I'll need. I've been thinking about maybe trying out for a drum corps next year---it would take a lot of practice, but really, it'd be the best thing in the world.
Today, after band, I'm going to Chicago for Lollapalooza with Kelly and my brother. It will be amazing. Three days of music. On Saturday I have to come back up here to play at Peach Fest with the band, playing around 5:00, which should also be good. Everyone should come watch us. Then back to Chicago, then back up here late Sunday night, then work Monday morning. Should be interesting.
These are some of the bands that are playing (there's 130 total):
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Kanye West
Raconteurs
Wilco
Death Cab for Cutie
Panic at the Disco
Gnarls Barkley
My Morning Jacket
The Flaming Lips
Queens of the Stoneage
Common
Matisyahu
The Shins
Ben Kweller
Sonic Youth
Sleater-Kinney
Iron & Wine
The New Pornographers
Coheed and Cambria
The Dresden Dolls
Andrew Bird
Cursive
Blackalicious
Aqualung
The Hold Steady
Wolfmother
Blue October
30 Seconds to Mars
Rainer Maria
Be Your Own Pet
Yeah. Lots of bands. So I'll take lots of videos and pictures.
peaCe
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| ****ANOTHER BIG EDIT****
I got a new job. Down at Tesar printing. $8/hr, 6am-4pm, Monday-Thursday, which means I'll have to leave for work at about 5:25am. Not sure what I'll be doin yet---some random stuff. Yep.
****END EDIT****
****VERY BIG EDIT****
I got fired.
****END EDIT****
Yeah...
Haven't been posting in Xanga lately.
But, basically, I've been working. 7am-3pm, in a very very very hot warehouse, derusting cans with steel wool and scotch brite, for 8 hours a day, and for some reason they don't allow headphones or a radio at work, and they don't allow pop or anything but water or gatorade, and there's nowhere to sit down, no air conditioning, no windows, and only 2 doors that are very, very far away, so the fans end up only pushing around very, very hot air. oh, and there's no actual "lunch break," just two 15 minute breaks, one at 9:15, and one at noon. So for $8/hr, which would be much higher, but the temp agency takes a lot of my check...well...yeah, at least I'm makin money.
Except, to keep myself entertained (because derusting cans is about as exciting as counting seconds or watching a pot of water boil), I would casually flip the cans around, little things like that---but, since the supervisor threatened to fire me if I do that again, the small, miniscule way in which I kept myself entertained and not medically braindead has been taken away. In a day, we derust about 14,000 cans. We could do more, but we don't, because our 55-year-old, toothless, gray-haired, thick bearded, squinty eyed, chubby, gold-prospector of a coworker, Bob, won't let us work fast, because "I get paid by the hour, so fuck it, no need to get any more done than we have to," which, even though it's easy---makes the time go by s.o.o.o.o.o. s.s.s.s.l.l.l.l.o.o.o.o.w.w.w.w.l.l.l.l.y.y.y.y.
Well, time to go to work---
[seamus]
(though i have never had a friday feel like the last one did---like the last chariot into heaven, until monday comes, and i realize that, sadly, this is limbo) | | |
| edit.
Got me a job. And not a very good one at that.
7:00am-3:00pm
Monday-Friday
APL Logistics on Coloma Road
Some warehouse thing
$8.00/hr
But hey, I need to have a minimum of $2500 by the end of the summer for college. After I reach that---maybe I'll buy somethin shiny.
[seamus]
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| Today. Friday. 8:00PM. Downtown Watervliet.
Joseph and the Mighty Happy Crew will be playing during the pre-4th of July Festivities. We'll be playing on the stage in the parking lot by the library, in downtown Watervliet. Stop on by. We'll also be playing tomorrow down by the Video Library. See ya there.
[seamus]
(i don't sleep anymore) | | |
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