The benefits of a college education are many... But there are detriments.

Last night we had our early Christmas with our family (my mother, my sister, and I) and Rex's, my mother's boyfriend, family. All in all around ten or twelve people gathered about for a little holiday cheer. I, of course, had no clue who any of these people were or what they were about, so I primarily just plinked away on Rex's guitar. Hours turned into more hours, the weather got nasty, and towards the beginning of the meal I attempted conversation with a few of the people there. It was then I realized I have absolutely nothing in common with my family.
I've never held the same interests as my mom and my sister... But the situation is such that I really just can't even hold conversation with them anymore. Anytime I try to talk they immediately sieze up with this inferiority complex because of my vocabulary or eventually just completely come to a loss because we have nothing in common. Somehow a full-time Wal-mart employee and a college student just completing a critical analysis of differences of interpretation in Hannah Arendt's political philosophy and views of antiquity can't find anything to talk about. Add to that what I already suspect to be a reasonably hefty amount of jealousy of my amazing college experience, and in a few days the house becomes quite volatile.
Admittedly, I am a bit sour and my demeanor is not likely helping things. With a sarcasm honed carefully by four years of intellectual discourse, it doesn't take long to piss off a couple pig-headed women. I just sincerely wish I had a place to go... For I would certainly already be there than stay here.

Tonight (or, last night... phew... late getting in) was my debut performance in Andover with 3rd Fret. Not as amazing as it sounds, my uncle pulled me up to do a few songs with his band during a set. I'm reasonably sure it sounded terrible, but I got a shot out of the deal and a few pats on the back.
At a music store earlier in the day I played part of my Christmas song to Mom, to which she replied that I have "surpassed everyone in my family" in terms of guitar playing. I think tonight proved very concretely that I have a lot to learn. The guitar player in 3rd Fret, Bruce, is a true renaissance man of guitar... Throwing in harmonic leads, jazz chords, and SRV-style dirty Texas blues leads, the man can do it all. It was a real treat to finally hear my Uncle Roy in his full element and a bigger treat to play with his colleagues. What a wonderful night.

Mmmm... That's the sound of cinema satisfaction. To begin the long week of great films (so many it does feel like Christmas), I began with a DVD of the Coen Brothers' The Man Who Wasn't There. As ever, Joel and Ethan deliver with hot, tender dialogue served up with unique casting decisions and remarkable cinematography.
However, the question of the hour is whether or not Billy Bob Thorton is now in an iron lung from the seemingly endless amount of smoking he does in the film. Gotrax and Egbers both were making jokes about it when they recommended the movie to me, however I didn't realize how correct they were. Every time you see Thorton (the protagonist... well, not really protagonist... let's just say "main character") of the film, he has a cigarette. This may seem like an exaggeration, but I warn you this statement contains no hyperbole. He is smoking in *every* scene he is in. Literally. Yeah. And boy are those a lot of scenes. I'm beginning to wonder if Philip Morris is in the credits.

Mmmm. I'm finally home for the first definitive break that I've had in about a year and half. Just me and my guitar in the middle of absolute nowhere to do nothing but eat well and sleep all day. Tonight I had an immaculate bath featuring bubblebath, incense, candles, and Allen Masterton's latest release "The Transient and Eternal." I hope to be knocking around a few heads with this kid in January, and if you are in the Lincoln area you can email him and get the hookup. I highly recommend "Still" and "Mistress." A full review will be coming, but that should satiate you folks for a while.
Personally, I'm surprised I even want to write in this. Given the absolute inordinate amount of words I have been placing before human eyes recently, I almost feel as though there is only a given number of words that one person can make another person read in one's lifetime and - at this rate - I am totally fucking with Nigeria's queue. I better ease up before I suck up their culture's next James Joyce with my pathetic prattle.

It's by no means pretty. But it is done.
In four days I have written 45 pages of academic work on three topics getting a collective 10 hours of sleep.
My body is now going to slip into a coma in protest for the horrible, horrible hell it has been through.

Listening to 90.1 KFKX and have found a couple things that pissed me off that I might share with you.

A public service announcement got played about Mikey Greene's Grammy experiment getting three college kids to download as many songs as possible in three days. 90.1 is a college station that only plays Public Service Announcements. Basically, the RIAA was able to make an anti-music-piracy ad and pass it off as a PSA. To clue you in, typical PSAs raise awareness about stuff like drunk driving, rampant homelessness, AIDS, education, etc. The moment making rich white guys more money becomes of similar importance to an ghetto-born black kid learning how to read is the moment I want to pee on as many their copy-protected over-priced shit shingle CDs as I physically can without blowing out my bladder's O-ring. Hey, if any commercial interest can make a PSA and get it played for free, where can Arturo Got The Shaft sign up?

KFKX plays some on-air promos that involve an off-key DJ singing the station's frequency in a mock operatic voice. DJ's don't sing for a reason, assclown. Here's a clue to the station manager running the promo insertion feature on the PC that essentially *is* 90.1 right now: "promo frequency" is a feature that should be used with a discretion level greater than arbitrary. In more industry specific terms, move the promos designated quality value "Shit" to frequency level designated "Never."

I just heard Gloria Estefan's "Love on Layaway." It is a holiday song from the Sony Christmas compilation released in 2000 featuring Celine Dion, Luther Vandross, Cyndi Lauper, our lovely Latino Gloria, and even a song by Wham!. This was her last original work since 2000. A second greatest hits album is due out in February. Since she has a little time in the studio before another new record, I have one small note for Gloria before her next no-doubt critically acclaimed original release: you'd make better music if you weren't a fucking retard. You have money. Get that fixed.

Finals week. I'll likely see you folks a lot on the other side of it. Thanks to everyone who came to our respective holiday fiestas and Blame the Game, Rachel Gaither, and the now tragically departed Whitehead and Unashamedly Awful for come along for the ride. What is it about finals week that always seems to bring out the scholar in me? Probably the fact I have 40 pages of paper to write in 5 days...

Phew. Great show tonight in Grand Island. First time in the town and the first in the Our Shafted Christmas weekend of end-of-the-year shows. I thought it was the best that Arturo Got The Shaft has sounded yet. Thanks to Manny and the crew for having us at the Nebraska Music Hall and Blame the Game for opening. Bigger thanks to our diehard set of fans who have been with us from the very beginning. Though I may not show it enough, you guys means the world to me.

Thanksgiving break was long and relaxing and fun. Everything was going really really well until Saturday when my mom notified me that my Gifted instructor, mentor, and friend of 12 years Mike Keltner had suffered a sudden burst of calcium in his system, causing him to go into violent seizures and cause his kidneys to stop functioning. At a mere 42 years, this is quite disturbing; an inexplicably high level of calcium in his system for no apparent reason whatsoever.
The family awaits further testing but when I went to see him Saturday night he looked an absolute mess. Machines flanking him like sentries with all manner of beeping and blinking. Cardiac monitors, catheter, IV, and a horrible list of medication that even the orderlies thought was exorbitant. I was quite distraught to see him as he was, particularly with no explainable reason. I sincerely hope he ends up alright through all this, and if he is, it is largely through the prudent decision making of Dr. Pete Meador who made the life saving decision to have Mike flown to Wichita from Medicine Lodge in the face of symptoms that, at face, did not seem altogether life threatening.
There is something clearly to be said for the power of gut decisions.