I am coming off an absolutely wicked high. Today was the first full established rehearsal with the new band I joined. The as-of-yet untitled project is turning out to be an absolute blast. A six piece band with some positively electric chemistry. We're still a fairly long way from public performance, but being with a bunch of people that want to have as much fun as I do on stage is great.
It is seriously the most energetic people I've had the pleasure of playing with. They like to jump and move and really put their heart into everything they play. The sound coming out is genuine and enjoyable, and the environment is generally fun-loving. This should not be confused with an inability to rock hard, as the Tenacious D covers quickly established the day as possessing much rock.
Now if I can only talk them until waiting until after noon. I don't even wake up for class that early.

"Bomb all those towelheads."
Is that really what you want?
Do you know what that really means?

Just in case you were wondering, we live in a materialistic nation. I know because my job is a direct result of it.
It must be said, I've always been a big fan of possessions. Gadgets, toys, and such are always catching my eye, mostly because they possess a certain innate *shinyness*. I've always been into buying shit for shit's sake. I am, however, reevaluating that habit.
You see, my week is generally spent in the removal and redistribution of shit other people don't want any more. The auction business as a function suggests that we are living in a society that just has too much damn stuff. To think, that we have a thriving national industry whose sole occupation is the sale of the stuff people get rid of. And it is a very thriving business.
I see the same people every single week at the auction house come in and plop down hundreds of dollars for our quality, gently-used merchandise. Of course, thank God for that, lest I be without a summer job, but still... One can't look at it without a reexamination of these "good old American values" everyone is yelling about now.
We exist only to possess. The evidence for this broad based declaration can be found at 611 Pecan Circle on a Thursday night. What are we going to have to possess before we stop dropping bombs?

I really feel like crying.
Things are beginning to get more and more frightening here though. Right next to Manhattan is Fort Riley, a US Army installation of some considerable size. Right next to the auction house is a rail line that runs to the base. Every single morning I see a huge train full of jungle camoflague vehicles come in... And every single afternoon I see a huge train full of desert camoflague vehicles leave. The bombs that people said used to be an occurance ever so often are now near constant during the day and night. A constant rumbling in the distance reminding us all of the unrest that is building. My sister just broke up with her boyfriend because he is in the Reserves and received notification that everyone in his detachment is going to be activated within the next 7 months. The war is coming. Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive or paranoid, but this upcoming conflict with Iraq has me scared to death. This isn't going to be like the Persian Gulf. A catastrophic war with the West vs. the Islamic World... I can't even begin to conceive how poorly this could turn out. Not the 48 hour nuclear holocaust we heard about in our youth, but a long, horribly bloody conventional Crusade... only this time, no one is using swords. I am genuinely afraid.

The summer routine is starting to kick in. Being both an academic and a rockstar, I am convinced I'm simply not going to make it with this whole 9 to 5 thing. Though, I must admit this is the first job I've had where I don't dread coming to work. Mostly, it's the people. The work environment at The Purple Wave is absolutely hilarious. Everybody there is college educated and foul mouthed, making it precisely the combination of humor that makes a guy like me feel at home.
Aaron McKee is the auctioneer who started the joint in the first place. A verbose, gadget whiz with a trigger happy use of the word "fuck," he's a young, open-minded employer with an amazing trust in his people. He's quick on his feet and faster with a joke; yeah, you can say I liked him from the beginning.
Dr. Suzy McKee, his beloved and incredibly pregnant wife, handles all the bookkeeping and such. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure precisely what she does, just that she never fucks up at it. As every member of the Purple team can attest, Suzy McKee simply does not commit an error. Not that she does fuck up and covers it up really well; the mistakes simply do not occur. Ever.
Aaron's father C.E. also works in the office, making the shop very much family run. C.E. initially struck me as a very critical older man with whom I might have a problem. Spiky hair and sideburns likely didn't generate the best impression, and my leisurely outlook on things provided a rather different picture than workaholic Traffas. However, I've grown to like him quite a bit. He's got a wicked intellect and down home country sense that reminds me pretty significantly of my own grandfather. He's forgiving, amiable, and, most off, singularly honest. He does not hide the truth whatsoever. That's admirable.
Little Emma rounds out the McKee crowd around The Purple Wave. Emma, I believe, is somewhere in between 0 and 9 years old and, as such, is legally required to not like having me around. I think I've tried most everything I know to get on her good side. After that two minutes of effort was exhausted, I've done my best to keep out of her way. She just recently became mobile through crawling, which is going to make the whole keeping away from her thing a bit more two-way. I wish I weren't so terrible with children.
I think I'll post another one of these in the next couple of days about the rest of the folks at the Purple Wave. If an auction movie were ever made, I think it definitely should be made about this place. I've laughed harder and longer at this place than anything other place I've ever worked. And, to me, that has the most value out of any employment opportunity I've seen.

if i weren't so green and dumb...
...

Went to chill at another open mic at O'Malley's. My personal success of the evening was when a waitress came up and asked me, "Why didn't you play that Zelda song?" I thought that was cool.
Some nights you take them by storm, other times you have to beg for attention. Tonight was somewhere in between. The people who saw me last week paid attention, but I don't know how many new folk have been swayed to the Geek Rock cause just yet. I take a little solace in the fact that it wasn't entirely my fault.
Apparently, The Man is trying to shut down Buck's Fireside Chat. This lead to a lowering of the volume to a level hardly acceptable for rock. Apparently, some old codger is complaining about the noise eminating from O'Malley's on Wednesday Nights. Buck, the fellow who runs the open mic, is not without recourse and is already planning a vicious political counterattack. I, at least, will rally to the cause.

Today I'm reminded of what summer is really all about. Cooking really good meals. Playing single player games you'd never play with a good Internet connection. No homework stress. Routine days without a care. Yeah, I love summer. The only thing I haven't liked so far is the Kansas heat.

Dogfart sluts?!?!
Seriously, this porn spam is getting out of fucking control. I've gotten messages announcing a big Britney Spears orgy. I've gotten emails letting me know that one of the Golden Girls is getting gang banged live via webcast. But, dogfart slut?
*What* is a dogfart slut and *why* do they think *I* would want to see them??? The people who send these are inhuman monsters who should immediately be thrown in a concrete shower to be promptly marinaded in a rich, tender vignagerette dressing and then thrown into a pack of rabid, dental misshapen badgers.

It is good to be in Manhattan. This is the closest to my sister I believe I've ever been in my entire life. It takes these times to realize how close the blood bond really is.
No matter how many new people I meet or how many new friends that I make, there will always be the three of us who made it through that shithole town of Medicine Lodge.
There will always be the three of us who made it through the trials and tribulations that the world brought on all of us. We will always be a family. We will always be blood.
But, most of all, when I look at my sister and see all that she has become and all the friends she has made... When I see the woman that she has become. The intellect she has. The head she has on her shoulders... I realize that maybe I wasn't the one who was blessed with the brains in the family. My sister is one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. I only wish she knew that as much as I do.