ok, so i just spent the last 45 min. of my life writing this thing (and damn it was good), only to have the computer i was writing on, suddenly shut off, and everything i was writing, erased. that's 45 min. of my life, wasted. thanks a fucking lot cyber dog. back to the story. yesterday at around 5:30 pm i arrived home. i was tired from a day full of meetings and needed to relieve some stress by pounded it out on the drums for a couple hours. i just recently pulled them out and i've been trying to get back in the swing of things. i hadn't played in well over six months and it was really pissing me off. while i was playing, the vibrations knocked a ceramic bust of john wayne (that i'd made for my father when i seven) off the shelves it was resting on and shattered on the floor. i stared in amazement at the fragments that'd been strewn across the floor. i'd just lost the only thing i had left from my childhood. the only reminder of better times with my father. i swept it up and rushed out of the house down to the local rite-aid. i bought a pair of hair clippers, and when i got home, i shaved off my hair and my beard in tribute to losing a part of myself last night. i am now truly free of the tyranny of that past. there are no more reminders. after showering, i put on the pre-requisite dj sport coat, a button up shirt, some nice shoes, looked in the mirror, pointed and snapped, said, "damn i look good," and headed out to cinespace for one of my two weekly nights. we had the bronx and 400 blows playing. the night was about to get good. i had to wait around the first 45 min or so before steve and i could start dj'ing, due to one table from a dinner party that had gone over their alotted time limt, right where we dj'd. i spent the time catching up with the bronx dudes and and chilling with kate and her friend cara, who showed up ridiculously early for some reason. i felt awkward (one of current favorite words) at first. i vaguely remembered hitting on cara at the OC wrap party after her original date for the evening, har mar superstar, had left. i was drunk on free top shelf liquer, and besides, we've had polite conversations ever since. i bought kate a drink and ordered myself a whiskey straight, on the rocks. we retired to the smoking room, where after about 10 minutes of minute conversation, i had to leave. my dj time had finally arrived. everything was good last night. it gets more and more packed every week and the dance floor becomes more and more like a 2 live crew show. 400 blows were awesome and the bronx played an amazing show, full of stage dives and fist fights. one of the highlights of my evening was when samaire armstrong (anna on the OC) showed up. she walked over to the dj booth and waved me down. we shared a space on the dance floor with our mutual friend alyx and after a couple songs, again, we retired to the smoking room. we shared revelations. she'd been busy working on a new show. i'd been busy working on a new comic book. she asked if she could be in one some day. i said, "only when you break my heart." i ended up hanging out with kate last night a lot more than i expected. we're swiftly becoming friends. the dynamic of our relationship reminds me a lot of one i had with one miss ellie mcfatridge (someone who i haven't thought about for a long time). ellie mcfatridge was the in between girl. our relationship was doomed from the beginning, due sorely because of bad timing. i met her in bloomington, in, in the brief period of my life between when i broke up with kathy (the on-line weezer girl, who i moved to washington for, kind of) and when i moved to bellingham, wa. i was 20 years old, she was in college and obsessed with elvis. i remember meeting her at a basement show. she was heartbroken over one of the members of the house band, bedause he'd rejected her. she had a hard time getting over him and was not in any place or shape to meet a new boy, but i thought she was attractive and cool and gave her my phone number anyway (she wouldn't give me hers). a couple weeks later she gave me a call and we began hanging out. i had 3 months left in town, and we made them count. we became friends really fast and hung out almost everyday. i had the biggest crush on her in the world, she was still upset about that boy, and there in turn, had no interest in me, yet i persisted, constantly trying to talk her into it. yet, we were friends, close friends. we'd share beds, food and cigarettes. one evening we got into a huge fight, i can't really remember what it was about, but it was bad. i stormed out of her dorm room at 2 in the morning, into the parking lot outside and smoked five cigarettes consecutively. i was gonna leave, but after the smokes, i was still so pissed, that i stormed back into her room, where we fought for another 2 hours. somehow, after hours of screaming, we decided that the only way to settle the argument was to go to graceland. we piled in my car at 6am and drove the 9 hours to memphis, tn, straight to graceland. we made it in time for the last tour of the day and spent the next day and a half roaming around memphis with no money, no sleep and two tummies full of coffee, exploring anything and everything elvis. we made it back to bloomington just in time for her to start class and me to go to work. the trip was purely platonic, but after that, things were different. we finally fell for each other, and with only a month left, it was difficult. i missed a lot of work and she missed alot of school. we'd try to fill our days each other's presence, desperately trying to hold onto time. it was some of the best sex i've ever had. at my going away party, we acted cool, trying to keep up the illusion that it wasn't really over. unbeknownst to me, my friend chris was taking a video camera around the party and a tape full of farewell messages for me. when i got to bellingham, i watched the tape. it was full of friend after friend, wishing me their best. the last person on the tape was ellie. she told me she loved me and burst into tears, and god dammit if it wasn't one of the saddest things i'd seen in my life. we talked a couple times after words, but the distance mixed with the feelings made it way too hard and eventually the phone calls stopped. sorry to expound on a story like that, but i wanted you, the audience, to understand. everyone's different, i know, and maybe knowing the outcome of a story doesn't help anyone to relate to one's feelings, but i can't help seeing the simularities myself, at least in the early stages. although, this time around, we're old and bitter and not as prone to such foolish endeavors. so, we hung out, and i made her stay till closing with a promise of a ride to her car, which i gave her. we made half assed plans to maybe hang out this evening and she gave me a hug goodbye. and fellas, i think you know the hug i'm talking about. the one that's a tight and long embrace, as if the tighter you hug and the longer you hold on the better it's gonna make the other person feel that you really don't want to kiss them. the hug that's handed over as the replacement. the hug that the other person can see right through, which only makes them more frustrated. yeah, i got one of those, and i've been getting them, but that's ok, because as i said earlier, i was one handsome looking mutherfucker last night. i drove home and passed out in front of my television set. when i woke up this moring at 11am, i called my best friend zane and we met up for a day of errands and breakfast. wed is comic book day, the day the new comics come out. the one day that every comic fan looks forward to. music buffs look forward to tuesdays, movie lovers look forward to fridays, magazine people look forward to thursdays and the geeks look forward to wed. it's like a calender. my comic shop is called meltdown. they have the best selection of indie and main stream books in town and when you pay for your purchace, they hand you your comics in a comic sized paper bag. that's important, at least for me. i can't stand the shops that use plastic. it's a matter of tradition. it's the one thing i've done longer in life than anything else, dragging myself down to the comic shop every wed, and ever since i found my first home shop (you get a favorite in every town), the vintage pheonix, i've gotten my comics handed to me in a paper bag. i think it's the consistantsy i like. the crisp feeling of the bag in your hands, weighted down with the treasure's inside, the crinkling sound that comes with, the excitement to open it up and read what's inside. when you live a life like mine, full of unexpected turns at any moment, you learn to appreciate the small consistantsies, the tiny traditions. it helps to hold onto that last piece of reality.