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DO NOT DELETE LIVEJOURNAL [17 Oct 2012|01:14am]
DO NOT DELETE!
Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

It's weird. [14 May 2009|02:31am]
[ mood | calm ]

I can listen to songs I haven't listened to in 4 or 5 years, like the one I wrote on my "Music" box for this journal just now. But even then, all those years later, first listening to it again will be a mystery. But then I'll think "wow, this song's pretty good?" like clockwork. But then I'll start singing along. And then I'll wonder how I know the words. It's always cause it's another great song from the past; one from back when I was younger that had crept up again.

Now being 2 years through college I always wonder where I am headed next. To honestly reflect: my grades are fine. I'm studying at a great film school at NYU, I had a great summer in 2008 and an even better summer before that when I was headed out of high school. So what's changed? Lost a great girl, maybe lost my intelligent inhibitions, bonded closer with my friends and family amidst divorce...and all that time I still had the fun of my life.

I always remember that when I'm old there's so many little things I think I'll never lose. I'll never miss last night when Jarrett was telling an elaborate story in the corner of my bkacyard before promptly forgetting how the last quarter went. It had literally dissapperaed from his head. And it was a great moment regardless. He looked like the most vulnerable person in the entire world, and we all laugh like little kids, including him.

I wish I could convey how joyful it is to responsibly irresponsible. Finally finishing half of college I feel like I'm doing good things; internships are coming, I'm getting in the swing of my passions again, I'm staying close with friends in 2 different circles and I'm in my hometown I love for another great 4 months of my life.

I don't know. Maybe because I lost a double dose of darts games at Stinger's tonight...maybe because I'm wondering what big thing will happen before I graduate and try to become "somebody". It's a small window that always gets more miniscule.

This is a post I'll look back on and I'll have a single certainty of a certain thought I had on this very morning already turned to a new day: "beginning summer 2009 against great expectations, proclamations of epic times to follow, hotter than hot boxes, larger than large hormones, present and more present a sense of getting old...I know this incredible time span has something great planned for me."

We'll see I guess. Taxi To The Dark Side and Europa (Lars von Trier!) come in the mail tomorrow. At least the DVD player on the 50 inch plasma works. There's something I know I can rely on forever.
 

4/26/09


Days like this I remember as they happened and as they are to me now. They exist cause they're so clear and relaxing.

12/31/08-1/1/09

Nights like this I'll never remember aft the moment of and always remember forever after just from normal photos like these. Something about the nostaliga of pure joy in our faces will never grow old for me. And I coomment like this when the photo's only a few months old...


 
I'll even have great thoughts of it 4 years from now. 40 years from now too. And that will always keep me happy. The meaningless conversations in cars. The fleeting feelings I felt. The wordy stories we exchanged. The way the tunes made me feel. The way the chemicals did too.

Everyone tries to say times are tough.  I'm young. I'm alive. By absolute rule I have got to be fine.

Here's to a long time more of that at heart.
1 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

Acapulco [15 Apr 2009|04:54am]
DAY



NIGHT


 
Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

Hahahahahahahaha. [12 Dec 2008|04:10am]
[ mood | accomplished ]

Well, inspired to write. My mind...is just on some other plane. Thanks everything scattered on my desk.

This week was just outrageous overall. Yet incredibly exhausting. And somehow incredibly satisfying.

It's like every night was another essay I had to dig deep for. American Beauty gender analysis for media criticism. Chatman vs. Gunning narrative discourse discussion for film theory. For some reason picking Hostel: Part II for my paper on American horror just cause I knew it'd be incredibly hard to do.

It just rolled up and up...to 3 days of no sleep. To the blink of an eye from the last period of my essay to the first Bud Light 16 oz. to be cracked. To being at the bar and looking in the mirror to see bags of black under each eye, looking like I just fought Tony Jaa. Disorientation. Then I bought $14 dollars of Blue 9 Burger. Then I packed the bubbler. Then I engulfed it all: the sleep depravity, the essay and presentation completion, the cheap beer, the delicious burgers, the bubbly bubbler.

Fall Out Boy tickets on sale in a few hours. Got those Bob Costas tickets. Need to satisfy Mom and Dad even though they've now broken apart.

Sometimes...I just really want a break so badly. Just to breathe.

3 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

Inquiry [07 Jul 2008|02:34am]
[ mood | calm ]

One of the more perplexing cases of totally overblown hype recorded in human history would have to be Del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth. Best movie of 2006? No. Best foreign movie of 2006? Still no. Top 25 of 2006? Not even.

If you can watch that and The Lives of Others twice each (hell, see The Devil's Backbone too) and still say that Pan's Labyrinth is the superior movie, you're basically saying that Magic Johnson doesn't have HIV. You, are wrong.

Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

C'mon let me call you love, brainy, brainy, brainy... [20 May 2008|01:34am]
I'd been waiting months to go with my friends to Cancun tomorrow morning. I got there, around 4:30 AM and all my friends got in and I ended up having an expired passport from traveling to Belguim as a minor. They all left and I had to stay home.

After telling them I'm not coming I've 1-dayed renewed my passport and booked a new flght for tomorrow morning still giving me 3 days and 3 nights.

Surprise factor is going to be fairly epic in scale. Imagine your surprise if dinosaurs sprang up from earth right now. Possibly symmetircal. That or robots flying through your window, killing one of your friends and you motioning through an exasperated sigh and saying "Well, I guess I could have seen this coming."
1 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me? [17 May 2008|03:12am]
[ mood | calm ]

As as Chris' feet stamped like an elephant across the wet pavement of my driveway and then dry thuds on the neighbors grass, all I could think was "Balls, what the fuck is going on?" I wish I could put that more eloquently, but the moment was complex in more ways that one can really imagine, given the circumstances present.

Chris, going to take a girl home awkwardly to allow Pat and Tom an extra 10 minutes to stay inside relaxing from the downpour, was walking down the driveway. Tom said "C'mon, be Frank Gore..." to which Chris nodded like a nervous tick 'no', before saying "no...alright...yeah" before bolting by Tom and Pat as makeshift blockers, drunk and blazed kids posing as a brick wall, and poorly. Chris blew by like a motion blur to the eyes, juking to my neighbors lawn and darting past before splitting back inwards while screaming a childish "Yeahhhh!!" as he ran towards his car across the street as if it were the end zone in San Francisco.

And as I watched this Pat was hunched over and holding his stomach, his eyes pierced shut in hysterics. Then watchig Tom, choking on his breath and spinning in circles I couldn't help but eventually propose this thought about it: "That was...the oddest fucking thing I've ever seen."

If I didn't know any better I'd think Chris was still running in the joy of the peculiar moment, ecstatic to the bliss of acting like a 5 year old again. In a life of expectations, it was the free moment where something totally unexpected, and really fucking stupid, kicked you in the face. And you loved it.

Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

Haven't heard this in a while. [16 Feb 2008|03:23am]
[ mood | tired ]

Listening to this song for the first time in a long time, I can't help but look at my window at New York City in the darkness of early morning and instead see the sun rising over Rockville Centre. I think of all the nights over summer, when I'd work during the day, be with friends doing whatever at night and then come home to this, a true constant.

And every night (or morning I guess) when I could see the sky turning blue and the morning paper already on the front lawn, I'd know it was time to close my curtains and simulate some darkness in my room to sleep in. Even if I was dead tired, watching the light creep through the blinds and into my room as this song came on from my "Sleep" playlist I couldn't help but find myself completely awake again.

It's funny; because no matter what happens from here on while listening to "Let It Rain", nothing will overtake the happy memories I had of simply lying still and letting it play while I watched the world outside rotate and a new day begin.

4 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

... [27 Jan 2008|01:25am]
[ mood | thankful ]

Tonight I saw something that changed my life.

And it wasn't a film. It was my life. Bear with me here.

While at school my best friend in the world (also known as the ex-girlfriend) told me that a friend had been in the hospital from the grade below me, or her grade. I heard his name and I thought: how tragic...how twisted. This doesn't make any sense to me. He was drunk and had fallen down some stairs in the middle of the night...no one woke up and saw until a few hours later. No one even heard whatever the last thing he said was.

He was a very nice kid; one of my ex's best friends in the world, a real nice guy she could trust and talk to. In this kind of world full of selfishness, I felt relieved the people around me had someone they felt they could trust. Trust is such a powerful thing to share.

Jesus, this is the kid that had a party where someone put a wheel of cheese in the dryer. A wheel of cheese...in the dryer.

This happened last Sunday. Over the course of the week the rumors spread and people entered into a bit of panic; we hear these terrible teenage tragedies and think but no, that can't...that wouldn't happen to us? It was an unreal slap in the face to see it hit home. An affluent town, inspired children with oppritunites, the whole future in their hands...one of them just dies? No senior Prom? No college life? You can argue that these aren't the most important things in life, I am still young, but even if you didn't enjoy them, you will never ever forget these instances.

He'd hit his head the doctors had to relieve swelling and operate on his brain. The surgery was heard to be a success and people rejoiced despite a said 2 week minimum coma. It seemed in the clear. It should end perfectly from here. But it doesn't and that's hard to digest. Shortly after he ended up with blood clots in his brain and a second surgery was done. I was told by a friend that, not many people know it but, he's going to be "braindead". No activity. His arm had raised one day randomly but there was nothing going on.

The next day the news got worse. His heart and kidneys were getting bad problems and it seemed like he'd be lost. This kid is too damn nice...why him?

And he did die. Around 1:30 in the morning on Saturday I was wandering the streets of the East Village, New York City with some friends. My oldest friend in the entire world called to tell me about the death. I've known him my whole life and never heard him cry, but through the speakers he was sobbing hysterically. My tremendous man of a friend, the hardest worker is brought to tears. He said he loved me. My friends and I found the nearest bar and drank all night, dancing to Elton John and singing Third Eye Blind. shit life is short...let's live.

But that wasn't what got me. Tonight I came home from school and few community college friends and ones still on vacation were around. At the high school there was a candlelight vigil on the football field, where he had played during high school. I saw the coaches and this flashed by me. Everyone stood in an awkward circle, bundled in gloves and jackets with shaking hands holding fire. His friends spoke in the middle, holding a large picture of a big smile on a young face. There was an Our Father. My ex told me that on his memory board for the wake there was a picture of him and I. I don't know how I'd forgotten there was.

People began to blow out the candles. His friends blew them out and them threw on the ground in the center of the field. Someone yelled "we love you Phat!" the nickname of the deceased. The candles bundled up in a big pile and everyone sat in a circle to shiver the cold, some hope their tears didn't become frozen to their face.

But that still isn't what got me. This will be hard to explain or comprehend fully; my friend Mark, a Ukranian living in my town who had a whole bunch of homes and issues with school, opened his wallet. Mark liked to bet with us, and he still does. We all like to bet. Sometimes people just owe money, and for one reason or another, Mark had owed the dead $10. Mark could be stingy with money so he opened his wallet looking down at $2 blowing in the wind. He leaned down and put the crumpled $1 bills under the candles. My friends and I wanted to laugh, but it wasn't the arena. What the hell did that mean?

We went back to my house to relax and talk before we went back to school. We talked about how messed up it was that you could die that young. We smoked a blunt. We smoked a bubbler. We talked, we thought.

Finally a rare silence was broken when someone asked Mark; man, what caused you to leave two dollars under some candles?

Mark said; "It was all I had on me...and I figured, shit, some stuffs more important than debt...at least I'm on my way to finally paying him back. Make up for the fact that I'll never actually get a chance to give it to him in person..."

A dead silence fell over the room. I was sitting there stunned at this theory...and who had said it.

And I just thought that for every momment I live from here on is a moment he didn't get. Live life. Tell people you love them. Don't get caught up in everything. Breathe.

Now exhale and live.

1 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

"And...then, I started to sit back, and I actually began to enjoy myself." [13 Jul 2007|05:21am]
[ mood | blah ]

Not to be overtly dramatic but it is amazing what a consumption and stronghold this journal had on my life through the years. Going back and reading the entries I can't help but be insanely curious as to how my former being has shaped my current self. My immaturity from 9th shifting into 10th grade marked for what can be dismissed a mere "phase" but more of a learning period for tolerance of how you can be independent but at the same time dictated.

And what are Internet friends anyway? Are they e-friends or people that were just strikingly similar to me in musical taste and fashion sense? I'm not sure what they are or what I was thinking. Amazingly some of these LiveJournal relationships have forged into something else through the years and I don't mean some kind of crazy sexual connectivity but people who are continued beacons of understanding and friendship. Maybe people like Diana, Mell or anyone else that retained a love for My Chemical Romance when they liked to play music and not dress-up. Weren't those the times? It's like that comic that says that pop culture will never be better than pop culture when you were 12. Interesting; they say that these are not the best of times, but they're the only times I've ever known.

Essentially what my journal transformed from was incoherent ramblings of an adolescent 8th grader to the disgruntled angst of a misguided idiot who thought he hated the world and the world hated him. I'm amazed I was able to grasp onto my real life friendships consider the persona I had taken. What did I want? What did I need? Looking back I'm not really sure. I was taking on conformity through unconformity. It was stupid and childish, but I think more than anything it was imperative. What's the tremendous thing is that I can look back and smile about it as opposed to feelings of bitterness and regret. It might have been silly on the whole but it at the time it seemed like an innovative thing to do. Isn't that life; living in the moment? Or in my case; the music? The scene? The people, the places?

There are times I come back here and wish I kept this up...I got joy out of writing and a select many got joy out of reading. I cultivated my craft here be it personal reflections, random editorials or nuggets of blooming film criticism. I've always been long winded but it didn't really matter in this arena because I mainly wrote to appease myself. I was documenting the ongoings of a life, minimal or grandiose. What mattered was that it didn't matter at all, the happenings where happening and I had to commit them to the page. My brain hit my fingers with excitement and energy. Looking back I feel proud of the things I wrote, the thoughts that propelled from my conscious up onto whoever felt like gandering at what I had said. Stories about whatever band I had seen, whatever girl I had crushed on and couldn't get (there were many) and the seemingly infinite amount of times that I managed to make a meaningless event into something legendary. The time Mike Fabiani and I got stopped by a cop because he thought we had given him the finger? I turned it into a suspense novella.

Everything was a photo-documented. I was like the girls I know now: snapping flashes at the most mundane of crap but enjoying myself for doing so. I don't think I was selfish in those days, but I did so much stuff for my own sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I got many kiddo's in trouble with picture taking and I didn't ponder my stylistic choices effect on my parents image or the imagination of my relatives and those close to me. It was a horribly jumbled, un-calculated rebellion but it was juvenile so I can only forgive myself and see the people around me joyous that I have managed to reinvigorate common sense and drift back to earth. Going back to photo's I can't remember something I enjoyed more at the time. It still amazes me; little moments, frozen in time at the flash controlled by the force of your fingertip. Concert photography was an enlightening experience every time, a great photo insinuating in me the highest of highs. I enjoyed those pictures and a lot of others did too.

It's nearly 6 am and I'm not sure quite what any of this has meant. I haven't written a true entry in nearly two years, an amazing drought considering my compulsive daily writing which used to dominate these pages of the "DrewG" LiveJournal. Man, I made this thing in 2002 I believe, talk about being ahead on this whole blogging trend. Pretty amazing to think of the change from then to now...and I don't just mean changes in appearance or mindset, I mean everything. Jesus, even the journal layout is a convoluted black/white theme from Michael Mann's film Heat. Simpler times turned into something needlessly complicated and now I don't know where they've landed.

I take the moment as it comes and keep a multiplicity of aspirations and dreams in full check. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. In a sense, years ago I had that feeling, so much so that my exuberance changed me into something entirely different. It was a flavor of the week, something merely okay for fleeting moments, not for long stretches of essential time.

Here's to life, and here's to enthusiasm. I never intend to live one without the other by its side.

2 Hit the ground ][Everyone on the dance floor is doomed

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