I woke up around eleven today, at which time I called the crystal ballroom to see if I could get some tickets to the concert later this month (mentioned a day or so ago). I found out that modest mouse was playing there tonight. While having a heart attack, I dove for the door and flew to my vehicle, ten minutes later I was standing in front of the crystal ballroom, reading a sign that read, "Modest Mouse, sold out." I gave myself an emotional smack in the face and walked across the street to the independent music store. I managed to spend seventy dollars there, I think perhaps it was partly due to my state of self pity over missing my chance at seeing modest mouse. Its like a depressed person chowing down on bucket of ice cream, or a sexually deprived teenage girl who, after a series of let downs, throws herself on the first guy she sees. oh wait, forget that last one.

Afterwards I went to a thrift store next to my apartment. I picked up two shirts ($2.50 each), and some pants ($3.75). The picture is me in one of my new shirts. fun. Don't ask me why I decided to post it. Because honestly, boredom can make you do strange things.

The most horrible, profound, and mind crushing realization is when you finally realize, in a one second flash of conciousness, that every fault that you have ever found in someone is just a reflection of what you are denying in yourself. That everything is peaceful, and everything is the way it was ment to be, until our socially anxious minds consume it, bending, twisting, and forcing it through the knotted mesh that is our minds. We go through lives, our vanity mirrors close at hand. If anything seems wrong or out of place, our defenses are raised and every possible attack is made until, just before the final blow, we retreat with our tail between our legs, whimpering at the fact that life isn’t perfect.

or maybe I just need to go to bed.

Will the person who messaged me on aim earlier please message me again. My operating system crashed and when I logged back in I had forgotten your screen name!

Oh my good god. I just found out death cab for cutie is playing on the 23rd, with dismemberment plan, at the crystal ballroom here in portland. Now, this may not sound exciting to you, but this is an alaska boy here. We don't get stuff like that where I come from. I love this place.

The last concert I went to in alaska was lynyrd skynard. point made.

*edit - I forgot, I did see the stone temple pilots up there. but thats the only really good concert ive been to, besides some small punk shows

Do you ever get that feeling like your head is stuck in a cloud, and no matter what you do every thought is distorted and everything just sucks?

I was walking downtown today when I passed a guy on the sidewalk holding a sign, it read "I'm ugly, nobody loves me, please help me." Come on man, you can get more creative then that.

I lucked out and found an ftp with every belle and sabastian album, including the ep's. I swear to god I could listen to those guys forever and be content. So, I am sitting here, bored out of my fucking mind. I tried to do some drawing earlier, that didn't even come close to working. I watched some tv, which is always my very last resort, and as always it was boring, I got restless, and here I am at the computer again. So, my goal is to download every single belle and sabastian song that I don't already have. From then I'll just download as many random albums as I can before I fall asleep. How fucking fun.

Alright, someone asked me to post some of my artwork. I did this in class today, my first attempt at this sort of gesture drawing. It is by no means a great piece, but hey, you asked.

With three dollars in my pocket, a will to waste time, and a camera in my hand, I took off walking after school today. I meandered about, snapping pictures of interesting things.

I walked to carl's jr, where, for two dollars I got two crappy sandwiches that successfully filled me up. While waiting for my order, I watched the lady who was waiting in line behind me, who was clearly deaf, try to order. She was motioning for a pen and paper. The lady taking her order said, "I know you can talk, I've heard you before!" The clearly-deaf lady kept motioning for a pen. Eventually, after several minutes of being a stupid bitch, the lady taking her order gave her a pen and paper. "Now I feel bad," is all the consolation she could muster.

I walked to pioneer square, where, if you don't know, all of satan's clones hang out. I sat watching the birds and the counture-culture icon wannabe's meander about, just killing time, as I was doing, and as everyone does when they come to pioneer square. I just sat there a while. It's got to be the greatest people watching place I have ever been.

I retreated back to the streets, rounding a corner I came upon a man playing some kind of horned instrument. His case was on the ground, open. In it was a picture of a small girl, presumably his daughter. I stopped, dug deep in to my pocket, and pulled out my last and only dollar, slowly bending down to put it in the case.

I walked back down to fifth, where I caught a bus to carry me back home. Sitting next to me was a man who smelled like he had a pound of weed in his backpack. What a wonderful smell. A couple stops after I got on an african american woman (is that politically correct these days?) got on, talking in to a cell phone. She continued to divulge all of the intricate details of her intimate life, using verbs like "freaking." Ha, talk about interesting.

Anyways, here are the pictures

updated links page

I swear, if I have to get in front of the class and critique another piece of artwork again I'm going to have a fucking stroke. I sit waiting for my turn, which usually ends up being last, my heart pounding. What I will say loops in my mind, only to be forgotten the second I hear the words, "It's your turn josh." Why do I get so nervous? I am not quite sure. Today I critiqued my own artwork, which isn't so bad because I know the process and the thoughts that went in to it, but when it's another students work it feels like my body is a vein in a heart attack victim's dying body.

It is a great feeling getting a good critique of my own work from others though. After class today I witnessed the teacher using my piece as a good reference for another student to see how it's done. That's nice.

I couldn't find my coat this morning so I went without it, which was a horrible mistake. Today it snowed, then rained, the wind whipping all the while. My time spent outside was spent with my hands in my pockets, my neck sunken in like a turtle, my mind cursing and yelling at me.

I was thinking today about my life in alaska, and my new one here. Alaska seems like it was years ago, its like a dream that you can remember every detail yet it doesn't quite break reality. I don't even feel like the same person. Nights spent staring at the ceiling and wishing I was someone, or somewhere else have given way to a great feeling of completion, or at least the feeling of knowing I'm in the right direction, and it's a good feeling. I really love this city. My home in alaska was just a landmark, a tourist destination, a place where gossip flows like water out of the mouths of the commonors and simpletons that scar its potentially beautiful landscape.

So I'm sitting out at the designated smoking spot this morning, slowly killing myself, when who did I chance upon? Well, Austin of course. We have been attending the same art institute for nearly a month now, but seeing as meeting people follows closely behind being punched in the face, or so it would seem, we haven't crossed paths. And here comes the never ending cliche: its a small world.

Louise and Re are coming to Portland to visit me next week, isn't that nice? *mental note - don't forget to pretend like I have a life

I won a nintendo (yes kids, the old school 8 bit nes) off of ebay the other day, and it came with mario brothers 3, my god am I going to have some fun. Nintendo changed my life, now its about to do it again.

Oh yes, and it seems, with the help of my new dsl connection, my mind goes blank when I go to download mp3s nowadays. I can't think of any that I haven't downloaded already. So, my friend, here is where you come in. Tell me about your favorite bands. I'm interested, but not limited, to the styles of the following bands: radiohead (of course), olivia tremor control, built to spill, modest mouse, elliot smith, the dandy warhols, grandaddy, belle and sebastian, neutral milk hotel, dashboard confessional, and too many others to mention.

I met my father today. Everything went so well. I don't think I could have asked for a better visit. And even though we haven't seen each other in a long, long time, we clicked in a peculiar way. He explained his situation, and why he has trouble keeping in touch with me, and it was fine. My worries were layed to rest. I think a new relationship is budding. His fiance made me the most delicious tacos, double-deckers in fact(hard shell in a soft shell). They had french dressing in them, a weird combination that meshed perfectly and fondled my taste buds. They also gave me four cases of top ramen, and for all of you bachelors out there, ramen is a mans best friend.