|Montel Williams, Breakfast, Funk, Kraftwerk, Breaks|
2002-12-16 09:11:03 ET
Montel Williams is an asshole. He's always talking all this shit like he knows everything. Makes me upset. I need Jenny or Ricki at this morning hour.
Mmmm...nothing better than pita pocket sandwiches and chronic first thang in morning.
I don't work for four days.
I wish I knew someone who was really knowledgable on funk. I got this random funk song that's mixed with all these other funk songs, and I don't have the listing or anything, but I need to know 'cause this one song is fucking off the hook. The girl says all this James Brown-esqe shit, like "rock me baby-make my face get soakin' wet, rock me baby-'bout ta work me to death." The music sounds all hard and locked-down.
I love certain funk. I think it's like the best combo of ideas. Most of it's too 70s-steeze for me, but some funk really rocks my shit. I love hard, seriously-funky music. I like how funk rides on like one fucking groove forever. Funk beats the shit out of anything in its way.
I like how Kraftwerk said whatever like 'We wanna be the german version of James Brown.' Kraftwerk's down with James Brown.
Another thing about funk is the breaks. Tons of fucked-up breaks, solid grooves, unbelievable percussion. I love drums. I'm so intrigued by percussion. Speaking of which, I think it's time for me to get on that and make some beats.
If you like funk and you know stuff, please talk to me.
2002-12-14 23:23:43 ET
I'm often-times bothered by the cartoon fantasy which is based on the question "When will I fall in love again?" I always wonder; it annoys me. I don't want to think such dorky hypothetical imaginings all the time.
I am thankful for the fact that I'm not currently obsessed with someone. HEY YO! I mean, not psychotic-obsessed, but being mentally-preoccupied with someone. I'm thankful because of the weight it takes off me and my whole being, yet I'm always delightfully-pondering and desiring a future engagement of the same nature.
My mind forgets the true state of how I feel until I'm into something real, then it all comes back to me, like a psychadelic drug where the effects seem so familiar, you wonder how you forgot what they felt like.
I wonder how much of this reality is sensory-based?
2002-12-10 18:26:25 ET
Whoa, my last journal entry is a tad bit on the bitch-ass side of my sceptre (is that the right word?).
I met a lady today who was painting a picture on a window, doing like advertisement decoration stuff. I've always dreamed of doing that as a profession. I think it'd be so fucking awesome to be a freelance window painter, doing letters and pictures on commercial buildings for money and having a portfolio and what-not. ANYWAYS...I asked her how she got started and all that shit and she told me. PLUS, she took my name down 'cause she said she was thinking about teaching the techniques on how to get started and color combinations and how to get clients. She was really nice. She told me what she charges, and it's anywhere from $75 to $150 an hour depending on the job and conditions. I twas inspired.
So yo, talked to Mr. Counciler, and next semester I'z be taking English-Critical Thinking (a class I have taken twice before at another college) and Algebra. I'm gonna take life drawing and one other art class, though i really wanted to take philosophy. I don't want to overload, plus I got a lot of art nerve cells that are really itchy that need a good scratching. HOWEVER, I am doing better than I t in terms of units.
GOD DAMN IT...this post is boring. Why am I getting into the habit of unloading crap onto my journal entries. Next time shall be a little more inventive.
Oh yeah...I went to this tiny museum where they had all this old school sci-fi stuff today. It was pretty lame, but they had a really cool Sci-Fi pulp fiction cover section, as well as movie props from Blade Runner and 2001 and what not. OH, and it just so happens that Phillip K. Dick resided in Fullerton from the 1970s till his death a little while back. Kinda neat.
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