I guess I ramble like woah

Today’s first meeting has been canceled, as we were able to finish everything up yesterday by three,

and I really have nothing to do save futz around on this site to find errors – I haven’t found any yet. Seeing as how that is amazingly redundant, I’m going to write…something. I swear, I’ll do it. I’m just that crazy.

I’ve been reduced but spread out, if that makes sense. Since I’ve moved out here things have

become one-dimensional. I wake up, eat breakfast, shower, put cloths on, drive to work, work, eat lunch, work, drive home, eat dinner. It’s what happens after that I’m still trying to figure out. Other than the playing of Halo 2, against Payam or attempting to run through the “campaign mode,” I’ve been to a show (Blood Brothers, great to hang with Johnny again; he’s a good guy), appeared on a college radio show (Vafa’s, I played a lot of music people had never heard, I’m pretty sure they had no listeners), watched TV and cleaned the apartment. Things have yet to become as scheduled and demonstratively obvious as people have once told presented to me. I’m all right with that though. Still trying to get acquainted or become antiquated with Texas life. I mean, I shot a bull cow in the head, but that gets old fast (I never shot a bull cow in the head. I couldn’t imagine doing so; the whole idea is pretty gross. Needless to say, I’m not going to stop eat steak and beef because of this; I’m just saying the process is gross. Yet, the only thing that has come close to shooting a bull cow in the head has been my own urge to do so at the party at my apartment this weekend; the very same party that if it weren’t thrown at my apartment, I probably wouldn’t have been invited.). Real fast. In the mean time, I’m sure I’ll come across something. A band or bowling or that lesbian Covent across the street. The truth is, I would welcome some monotony not revolving around sitting on my butt in front of the computer or television (for some reason I felt it necessary to spell television out) as long as it was a persistent monotony. Well, more persistent that what I’ve already listed as “boring things.” Same as it ever was, same as it ever was (song lyrics).

As it stands right now, I have yet to hit a cymbal, tom or snare since I’ve moved out here, and I’m

in desperate need of finding a place where I can do so, feverishly. I’ll probably have to relinquish control of my kit if I am to leave it somewhere; a prospect that frightens me. I’m not big into someone other than me playing on the kit that I bought less than a year ago, and have invested so much of my time and effort into. That’s not entirely mean, it’s just anal; and I’m fine with that. Anyway, it’s lunchtime and I’m thinking about eating a sandwich, then on to meetings until three. BAM!