I worked with Marc Booker from Hastings's own (and possibly only) rap group Mistaken today on a few of their tracks. It was interesting to be on the producer end of things; have an artist look to you and say "melody." I don't think I was quite up to the challenge, though I imagine I would be a much more rounded musician if I did.
And it did also start me on a new line of thinking as a songwriter. I've always regarded the songs that I perform live as real treasures; the cream of a pretty sorry crop as it were. I regard my songs as finite, tangental properties. And I'm starting to wonder if that is not so. Perhaps if I am really serious about this, songwriting should be just like any other vocation. I should someday be able to get to the point that songwriting is as easy for me as, say, a typist types or a plumber... plumbs.

So my ballet class if killing me.
That's right, ballet. At the beginning of the semester, being a graduating senior at a liberal arts college, there were a few requirements that I have been blissfully ignoring. For example, my physical education requirement. Hastings College requires 2 credits hours of physical education in order to graduate. Now, my freshman year I received 1 credit hour for Social and Popular Dance. Most people take the Issues in Wellness general hygiene and personal health class as it is two hours and requires no major physical exertion. Never one for the normal way out, I decided that a dance course would be far superior as it combined my two great loves 1) music and 2) girls.
And it seemed to me, now that I have neglected it for so long, that Dance Techniques I would be a good way to finish up. Why you ask? You see, the instructor of Social and Popular Dance retired my sophomore year and the course was removed from the catalog. Then, a new dance instructor was hired and the course Dance Techniques I was added to the catalog. It is in this that my reasoning becomes a little clearer. Judging from the title, it seemed that Hastings College goofed and ended up giving the same course a different name and catalog number, thus giving me the excellent opportunity to get 2 credit hours from basically the same class.
And then there is the fact that I really do enjoy dancing. However, I discovered that my kind of dancing was not the course's objective. Nava Sivron began rattling off her resume... classic choreography... tel aviv dance troupe... ballet... Oh darn. That's right, a whole bunch of 80 pound ultra-attractive girls with several years of dance experience and... me. The sole dork. The only guy. And, weeks later, I find that we work our groin muscles so much that I have difficulty getting up the strength to pee.

God dammit!
So, a good friend of mine Blake came into town today, and since he is our beloved and sorely missed Dungeon Master, we set about putting together a quick all-nighter Dungeons and Dragons campaign to welcome him back. After paying a few visits to some old (and new) friends to grab the necessary books, rounding up some players, we quickly had a decent campaign with some fair characters.
Now, it is hard to get too attached to characters that were just created in a night, but goddammit I hate to lose. And we did, just barely. After wiping out all but one of this huge squadron of dark elves, our last conscious character eats shit to a natural 20.

The good news is if you didn't understand half of this, you're not as geek as you thought you were.

Hastings College is pretty big into education, and I have a few issues with some of the teaching methods that are instructed around here. Of course, this is just one man's wholly uneducated opinion, as I have not taken any education courses. I have, however, taught in a classroom. For the last two years of my high school I was involved in many education ventures: teaching basic computer skills to adults, teaching writing to fourth graders, teaching American literature to eighth graders. And, of course, the thousands of times "peer education" was used in my regular courses.
I go round and round with the girls over the subject of full inclusion; that is, placing slower students with faster students. According to several leading education models, mentally challenged students that are included more in regular classrooms receive many developmental gains, both socially and academically. The idea being the more they have to be a regular student, the more likely they are to become regular students. This, of course, makes intuitive sense. If the slower students are simply exposed to the faster students, they will be able to adapt and learn by example; become smarter simply by osmosis.
However, at what cost is this to the advanced student? Little sympathy is given to the gifted youngster because he or she is "smart enough." Why do they need to excel any further? Or worse, they learn how to deal with people slower than them on a daily basis, increasing their communication and expression skills to the lesser percentiles.
It must be said I'm hardly calling for an intellectual elite or a "only the smart survive" sort of environment, but of the many great shames of America, our education system is built on models that seek to advance the lower end of the Bell Curve, largely at the expense of the higher. What kind of world are we creating? An educationally homogenized nation that is likely to be completely outclassed by the Europeans.
In defense of the European model, one test can decide your future if it is preceded by several years of preparation. It's not like this is some sort of pop quiz; if students are properly prepped and equipped, then one comprehensive examination should be able to determine which tier of educational success is best for them. There are people that just aren't cut out for high school. There are people that need a lot more challenge. Sadly, we're screwing our gifted young ones much more than our disabled. And which, I wonder, will be more important to our society in the coming years?

Come what may...
Sometimes I wonder if this love that they sing about is real. This attraction, this passion, this intensity, this severity that causes the diaphragm to burst into song. A love that can't be quelled, that can only be sung through the hills and the valleys and the suburbs and the alleys. A song every passerby for miles nigh would encounter and come to the conclusion that their life's illusion of love, sweet love can only be a pale memory after hearing that song, that melody. And what for you and me? Will that be a song we will sing? Is it fate that will bring those notes through our throats or must a quest though oblique to the prizes we seek? If I were a bettor I would say less former than latter for that many splendored thing is elusive enough that it will take avid searching and a bit of luck.

The official announcement will come when the dates are all hashed out, but as usual, I'm too excited to keep things to myself. (r)ocktober has been the brainchild of howie&scott and us ever since the Day of Eternal Rock a few weeks ago. Our focus since has been to book every single weekend in October for a split set tour around the area as we did our tour around Lincoln. A few dates are still being pulled together and finalized, but it is going to happen folks. 9 shows. 4 men. 2 bands. 1 rock. The dates that are set in stone are on ye olde sidebar for your consumption. Lincoln and Omaha fans, don't fret, we're planning two special weekends just for you. Can't wait to see all of you.

For all our 21 and older Shaft fans in Lincoln, this Friday is a free show at the Rococo featuring Kansas area band Shaking Tree. It is a live show that is very, very high quality at the best venue I've seen in Nebraska, and most of all, it's *free*. A delegation from the Geek Rock Revolution HQ will be over there and welcome any who would like to meet us there. If you're looking for a live band that you can actually dance to, I'll be with the white boys gimping out on the main floor.

Alright, new rule. They can no longer be called "tats." They are tattoos. For fuck's sake people, you invest the money and the pain into a permanent work of art on your body and you can't even give it a second syllable?! It's the one form of art specifically designed to piss of the establishment and you assclowns are giving it the same sort of respect as a soft drink. "Yeah, man, I just went and got a new tat the other day," you say as if you just got a liter of cola. Jumping jeebus people. And another thing, they are not "body mods." You "mod" cars. You "mod" your XBox to play imported Taiwanese porn games. You do not "mod" a human fucking being! Piercings and tattoos are one of the ways we punks extend a firm and poignant finger to the establishment and they deserve a little respect.
I mean really. A "tat." Sounds like something you'd get from a goddamned Cracker Jack box.

I think I can seriously attribute any amount of intelligence I can claim to have solely to comic books and video games. I grew up in a little podunk town in a little podunk school district with very little challenge or real learning experience. Where did I get my vocabulary? Solely from Spider-Man and X-Men. How did I learn to think quickly? Super Mario Brothers World 8 Stage 1.
I've been reading through some of my old comic books, and realizing what an impact they had on my education. If I can get even a moderately decent score on GRE Verbal, I'm going to send a thank-you note to Marvel Comics. I'm just thankful they don't have a way to quantify social interaction, because I don't think answering "Use your mutant ability to set his face on fire." would score very high for the question "What do you do if your neighbor asks to pass the ketchup?"
That irrespective, I put strings on my old acoustic today. It has been seriously out of commission for coming up to a year now. I had the bridge repaired in anticipation of some serious Shaft gigging, and then over Thanksgiving break after I had played some parties with Aaron, I discovered it snapped in half.
I, of course, was inconsolable as guitar players are when their babies get hurt. So, my mom, in all her motherly love, went to get it fixed. Now, it should be said that this was something really sweet that she did. She took while I was asleep and brought it to the local guitar shop in Medicine Lodge (which happens to be run by Martina McBride's father) to have it repaired. Unfortunately, Schiff is not precisely the best guitar tech in the world and ended up fixing it in an extraordinarily poor way. I really haven't played it since. But, it was a nice day, so I took it out for a spin underneath my favorite shade tree and enjoyed the campus air. Somehow, it didn't sound quite as bad as when I had played it last... Maybe that's Nebraska autumn for you.

The ladyfriend and I watched Baraka tonight. An interesting docu-film that is bestly described by its slogan, "a world beyond words." With no spoken dialogue in the film, it is essentially a large collection of quite expertly shot scenes. The level of camera expertise in this film is quite astounding; huge panning time-elapsed shots, all in 70mm. I don't pretend to have a full comprehension of the level of ability that this Ron Fricke has with a camera, but some of the shots were positively unreal. Shot in 24 countries over six continents, it is this sort of filmmaking that I would love to do. What a wonderful job; traveling the world and learning about its peoples. Now, if I can only get that gig as a rockstar.

A friend of mine told me, "It's time to get out of the dorms." Thanks to a screwy little nuance in one of my private scholarships however, I'm fucking stuck. And tonight was a very clear example of why I hate dorm life.
So, me and my girl are watching a movie and enjoying those things that come with watching a movie. Private little evening, funny film, cuddling, you get the picture. However, wrecking this little fairy tale scene are the mongoloid jackasses who occupy the hallway in front of my room. With a laugh that should be recorded, digitized, and sold as little electronic sonically generated birth control devices, these utter cretins managed to completely fill all available airspace in the dorm with their moronic guffawing. It was 12am on a Friday night. If you're Billy Grabassing around with a bunch of guys in the dorm at that particular time, you've already sealed your sexual inability, but why ruin it for anyone else?
So, in retaliation, I'm thinking about setting my guitar amp in the hallway and start playing some rockabilly riffs here in about 30 minutes when these extra-chromosome-pair carrying jerkoffs finish slap-boxing the one eyed champ to their pr0n spam. What then now, bitch?

Setting up my Linux server isn't going as easy as I would have hoped. Alas, the best laid plans of mice and rockstars often go astray. But, I'm still going to kick it around today. Hopefully I should have this figured out in fairly reasonable order. Hey, this operating system ain't so bad after all.
Only three short weeks until the next Ex-Shaft-aganza... Starting in Crete and ending up in Manhattan, it is going to be a very heavy weekend of rocking. No doubt to the dismay of those in their respective areas who wish not to be rocked. I am said to say, it's what I was born to do baby. It's what I was born to do.

Finally! The Shaft website is at a level where I can really respect it. It's got a sexy low bandwidth interface and plenty of content. We got mp3s coming on the way and as soon as the IT dudes here at HC get around to fixing the other port in my room, I'm going to have a Linux server up and running with all manners of cool toys. Geek Rock Radio is going to be on the way, as well as some massive storage space for tons of live mp3s that are going to be swarming in.
What's more, JC's hooked up for some sweet, sweet .plan loving. That's three pages of dynamic content. This should keep users coming back to our site. I also have a whole mess of pics that I am going to get up in the next couple days (yes, famous last words, but I'm on it like Shakespeare wrote a sonnet).

Tonight it rained those summer rains that offer the luxury of enjoying them personally. And, personally, I'd rather have a beautiful girl on my arm while enjoying it. Makes the scent of rain that much better.

The big news round the campfire is preparations for Rocktober; a month long rock festival with The Shaft and howie&scott. Split sets for a metric shit-ton of shows; in fact every single weekend in October. Tons of promotional stuff will be going down and, as always, plenty of hot and tender rock. Keep tuned.
Additionally, I've been poking around with the site to try and ease up the load times. JC is going to get a .plan as soon as I figure out what I want to do with the sidebar, so twice the dynamic content; how cool is that?
Also, I got some live mp3s from the show over at Buster's that seem fair enough to share with you. After all, we're friends, right?

My sincere thanks to everyone who came out to the show tonight over at The Blue Moon. More thanks to Whitehead and Unashamedly Awful for another terrible, terrible set bringing out the absolute worst in music; I love hearing it every time.
The show went well considering we were competing with Hoochie-Mama night and a Tool concert in Omaha... Much rock was to be had and it was good to come and settle in back at the big home. I always love playing at The Blue Moon. It's like playing in my backyard.

Tomorrow is the first show of the new school year at Hastings at The Blue Moon. It's always great to play there; the hometown advantage works in more places than just football. Enjoy the cramped surroundings while they last though, folks, because The Blue Moon is going to move to a new location with maximum space and greater potential to rock. With as good as they have been to The Shaft these past two years, it is great to see them expand.
This whole Blogger thing is really meeting with my approval. It is good to get a system that takes all the hassle out of posting to the .plan. All I have to do now is go to one place, type the post, and hit publish: as any good geek blog should be. Could this mean more frequent updates? Only time will tell.
It's my last year at Hastings, and I must admit I haven't been looking forward to it very much. Between a ballet class to complete my LAP requirement and the fact that I'm a senior still living in the dorms, well, you could say that this isn't precisely the most successful end to my time at Hastings College. To make things even more odd, my friend and mentor Dr. Rob Babcock is on sabbatical, making things even more weird on a campus that had a very weird summer already. I'm beginning to feel more and more sure of pursuing this rockstar life and have been looking into the proper venues to make the career happen. But the inevitable question is always, "Why did you even go to college?" Here I am, graduating with three degrees, spending nearly six figures of other people's money going to this school and I'm not doing anything with my degrees.
Somehow, I just can't explain to someone in casual conversation how changed I am as a human being by my training at Hastings College. Last weekend I visited my family and it was more aware than ever before how different my worldview has become from where it was before I arrived. Their concerns are money and family gossip, beer and 9 to 5 jobs. They go about their lives concerned with little more than the tiny little town they live in. Their world is very small and safe and provides a small and safe amount of happiness. I can't even imagine how big my world will be and the happiness I will find there. And it is that lack of comprehension; that anticipation; that knowledge that I am smart enough now to do whatever I damn well please and live very comfortably doing it that makes me so grateful of the fact that I am still just a poor Kansas boy who will never have to know poor Kansas ways again. And for some reason, I just can't express that in casual conversation. Who would understand it if I could?

Well, alright. It's only 2 in the morning and I finally got the old posts transferred to the new system. After months of getting put off by SCTelCom's inferior web administrators, I found a webservice that would be able to do kinda/sorta what I wanted to do with the site from the very beginning. rob.plan in particular was just getting too damn large to manage. Load times were intolerable for first time visitors, and frequent .plan fans just had too much page to scroll through. As with the News archives, everything has been perserved through some painstaking copy/paste.
For the nerds in the crowd, Shafted! is currently using a webservice called Blogger. The service has a little account that you log into, and then generates a few key HTML files that it then FTPs to your web server. This, of course, is something that I really wanted to make the website do itself through an ASP script because 1) load times would be faster and 2) it wouldn't get advertising.
Well, with the settings and features I currently have, the site remains advertisement free. I sincerely hope that this system is something we can keep for a while, as all in all, it's a much slicker interface. Nothing is lost with the archive, and only the current information is popped up on the page for all to see. The time links, I'm told, don't currently work. I'm going to try to fuck with it some more tomorrow. Tonight, I'm just tired and bummed out.

Yeah, she hurt me through hearsay,
But all I can say;
I hope hurting me makes you happy.
For in the end, that's all I ever cared about.