Again, at Fort Sockton High School. Javier Hernandez (why do I remember his name?) was talking to his friend (Probably Miguel) about this song. And it was within ear-reach of me. He just said that *Monsters* is a cool song. Or something similar. I had made him a tape of songs I enjoyed. I did curb things on the tape towards *metal*, so this was on it. But is this song metal? What is metal? I recall that *26000 Days* by the Moody Blues was on the tape, as well. This album came a bit late into my conscious...
Sam and I were sitting in Pizza Hut (in Fort Stockton, Texas, of course -- our mecca). I had taken David's jambox and set it on the window sill. *Spectres* was in the tape deck. This song was playing. He listened intently. Sam was definitely good at that. His comment was that it did not create the mood it was attempting to create well enough. I'll listen to it again now and give my opinion. Initally, the guitar does, for sure. Loneliness. Solitude. Lee also loved this song very much. There was a compilati...
The telephone in my room in Fort Stockton was, like Facebook or Twitter or LiveJournal or whatever, my connection, however vague and arrogant, to the outside world. I'd call people and force them to listen to *Blue Öyster Cult* songs over the line. The quality was amazing, as you might imagine. The one victim which was the most pitiful was Sharon Weber. I made her listen to this very song attemping to convince her that BÖC were contemporary enough to be poppy. Well, yeah, this song is a bit poppy. I'm not ...
Well, this one has the most formiddable memories attached to it. > She spread her wings, and then she was gone. ...
*Blue Öyster Cult* is the music for the evening, though I shall run out of albums at some point. As I wrote to Tony earlier, I do wish I had *Fire of Unknown Origin*. I suppose I should do as I did years ago with *The Church* (and can be read in this particular journal of mine), and write about each memory each song contains for me. As *Searching for Celine* just finished from *Spectres*, it may be a problem. I say a problem because there are dizzying memories from mostly High School which these songs brin...
> The dark form of the world is hollowed out by each of our beliefs and it is dissonance between such worlds which brings conflict. Multiple worlds. Perhaps only those who lack imagination can perceive without distortion. I believe I typed this into *Eira* approximately a year ago. It was inspired by a paragraph from a novel by *Cormac McCarthy*. His point was that how we perceive the world - our personal beliefs - carve out the substance of existence just as *wind* or *rain*. Reading my quote again, it ...
My parents have a tendency to place light switches either exposed and just out of reach, or hidden strangely behind furniture or appliances. My first thought is that it is a result of my father's insistence that work, no matter how unfulfilling and strenuous, should be the priority of everyone's life. So, that old fashioned switch, which must be rotated instead of flipped, is placed just out of reach of the edge of the bed. I must, therefore, **work** to get at it. His unconscious provides these little frus...
There is a discussion at the moment on [Progressive Ears](http://www.progressiveears.com) concerning the lack of an identity for years after 2000. I see where the topic eructer is coming from, as, looking back on fashion and music, there is always a few prominent trends which span *the decade*. I posit that there were always multitudes mulling in the background, creating a tapestry on which the big-wigs could lie. Every trend has roots in so many flowerbeds that its petals are hybridized to the point of be...
**Invigoration**. I need a splash in the face with the frigid water of existence. Probably existentialism, as well. I am surprised that I grew up to be anything interesting psychologically at all. The drab, washed out setting all around me attests to only stagnation and death. From where did I pull my inspiration? Possibly from **pain**. Obsession? Newly found old friends have inspired the gut instinct of creation to an extent once again, but it is not going to be nearly enough to get me off of my lugubri...
Lina and I have reconnected after nearly six years of silence and oblivion. The past two days have been filled with conversation. Perhaps it is now as it was when we first met on the internet. ICQ volleys our messages back in forth. I tend to put more effort than she does into it, I must admit. She is working on her thesis. The subject is the changes in local culture in her home town of Fulnek from 1989 until now. Not a bad topic. It focuses the glass on a small community developing in a new regime. I'll r...
I awoke from a vivid dream. I was living still, for all this time, in the flat on Petra Rezka. I was the only one living there. A space I had never been to before showed itself to me. It was behind a door that I had always taken for a closet in Jeníček's room. My room was abandoned and I lived in one of the strange alcoves beyond that door. How I knew it was the flat on Petra Rezka, I know not, for it looked nothing like my old home (possibly my happiest home, for my interaction with people was at a maximu...
