I've Become Unstuck In Time

It's been a minute since I've given any quips into my personal life. Since my last update, I've gotten married in the 80's, proposed secret passages through bookcases, obtained and trained a dragon, and left my job as a coffee slinger.

But don't worry. Tales of my travels will be brought forth at more appropriate times. I may start with Omnipotus Rex, the dragon who lives in my office.

A Proposal Of More Interesting Penalties

Let me start off by saying this; I only support the death penalty in extreme cases. Rape, murder, child molestation, etc. are all crimes that to me are considered most heinous and can never be punished enough. I believe that Hammurabi was onto something with his initial code. With that being said, it is important to understand that there is a major flaw in our current system of capital punishment. The end result is not nearly frightening enough. So, in an attempt to make the death penalty something to be feared, I have but a few options that I will be including in a letter to my state government.

Option 1: R.P.P.R.P.

Here in Florida, we have a space program that billions of dollars are poured into. I find it absurd that there hasn't been a "Rocket Propelled Prisoner Relocation Program" developed. So, here I offer the R.P.P.R.P. This program will give the prisoner two separate options; either be fired into the sun, or fired to the furthest reaches of our solar system. I find this to be the finest solution I have to offer.

Option 2: The Prank Chair

The timeless form of capital punishment might be the electric chair, but there is no romanticism about it. This option gives the prisoner more of a guessing game when it comes time. The switch would operate on an entirely random rotation that would have a faulty switch. This would be like a psych-out that everyone would have a good laugh about. Gotcha!

Option 3: Thunderdome

This could be called a number of things (I find that Thunderdome has more of an effect than Mortal Kombat, etc.). This is exactly how it sounds; pit the prisoner against someone with a much higher skill set, so that the prisoner is at a great disadvantage. Provide the prisoner with no weapons and let them have at it. If the prisoner survives, they get a plaque or trophy of some sort. Maybe a mug that says "World's Greatest Thunderdomer."

Option 4: Story Time

This might be the worst of the three options. In this option, the prisoner is forced to read novel after novel of rather terrible authors. Danielle Steele, Janet Evanovich, Tom Patterson, and an assortment of other mediocre at best authors will offer their titles personally to these prisoners, and ask for a book report upon completion. This would be a life sentence. An alternative option would be having to watch episodes of Sally Jesse Raphael and Oprah in succession.

In the end, I find that these options are far more interesting and give a much greater incentive to keep from committing violent crimes. I will begin taking signatures for the petition I will be sending to the state as an initial proposal that will hopefully move on to larger government bodies. Thank you in advance.

Failed Careers In Music: A Game Of You (2002 - 2006)

There is something to be said about Converge and Botch. These two bands have had such an insane influence on technical hardcore and heavy music in general that there are almost no other bands that can bear the name "Pioneer." Just like hundreds of other bands, A Game Of You felt that heavy influence, and it is apparent in the final recording we did.

The first time I saw A Game Of You, I had just joined Virginia Is For Lovers. Watching AGOY at the time was like watching a madman screaming at a ragtag bunch of musicians without any sort of compassion or remorse. I remember being afraid of Steve, but thinking the bass player then looked like a total bozo. So, AGOY played a few shows before I had heard they kicked out the drummer, guitar player, and bass player during that time (keep in mind that once I had joined the band, I had jammed with 2 separate drummers and 4 guitar players). So came my attempt at joining the band.

Since the band was based out of Orlando, I had to ride out to O-town with Steve, who I had met once, just to try out for the band. Imagine the most awkward drive ever. This was more awkward. I'm pretty sure Steve wanted me dead (though later he got me into some of the greatest music ever). So, this tryout took place in an empty bedroom and Steve and Andrew's moms house. I made the band. So, the lineup when I joined was Steve LaCour, Andrew LaCour, Taylor Nathe, and I believe a kid named Junior? (Andrew/Steve, correct me if I'm wrong).

Then came my first show with the band. By this time, Junior was out, and Eric was in. This first show, however, was a good 13 hour drive away in Richmond, VA. I didn't mind since we got to play with Cursed in a living room. The drive up, however, was like some twisted circle of hell. We didn't have a van, so we rented a minivan, which did not fit half of our equipment, not to mention the 7 people that had to get there. This meant there were no backseats. For 13 hours. The trip ended up being awesome, though.

Once we got back, the lineup changed not too long after. Taylor was out, and Josh was in. At some point, Eric was out, and Ken was in. We played Tallahassee with our good friends in youTragedy. We played the first This Is For You Fest (in which we covered Coalesce's You Can't Kill Us All). Sometime soon afterwards, Ken was out. At this point, we remained a 4 piece for quite awhile.

It wasn't for a few months that Brad joined the band. This is when we started writing the only good music we wrote. With the lineup being Steve, Andrew, Josh, Brad, and myself, we recorded Demo 2005. Here is the tracklisting;

1. The Flood Year

2. Glorious Weapon

3. Dorian Gray

4. These Days Get Colder

At some point, we played the second and third This Is For You Fests, did a short tour with Dead To Fall (everything I eat tastes like pizza), and played some random shows. It was after this point where we decided that it was about time to call it quits. We played our final show (which was ridiculous). There was sweat. There was blood. There were shirts ripped and ear drums blasted. And I couldn't have had a better time.

Today, Steve is playing bass and ripping off faces in the band Trap Them. Andrew and Josh are playing in a band called Khann, which is also ripping off faces. Brad is playing in a band (although I am not sure what they are called). I haven't spoken to Ken or Eric in a few years, so I'm sure they are doing well. And I see Taylor every now and again at good punk rock shows. Other than that, the end was rather quiet, and the few fans we had have long forgotten about us by now.

If anyone has a copy of Demo 2005, please get to me as soon as possible. I'd like to upload it if possible. There are other recordings, so maybe I'll post a discography if I can.

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut

There are very few authors deserving of the "Greatest Author In The World" title. I hold a select few close to my heart. Bret Easton Ellis, Tom Robbins, Charles Bukowski, and William S. Burroughs are but a few. And of course there are a few books that have completely destroyed my entire world view. Here is where I insert American Psycho, Fight Club, The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, Women, and House of Leaves. But there is not a being in the UNIVERSE that has fueled my endless quest for literature such as the one and only Kurt Vonnegut.

During a time where English teachers believed that books like The Poisonwood Bible and The Things They Carried were masterpieces that high schoolers would be interested in, my senior year English teacher Mr. Brown gave me a list of required readings (which I kept because of the amazing pieces included in it). Having to choose between 1984, Jitterbug Perfume, When I Was Five I Killed Myself, and Slaughterhouse Five, I took a chance and chose the latter.

It was this single, random choice that sprung me back into the world of literature. With his dark sense of humor, his complete understanding of science fiction, and his affinity for social satire, Mr. Vonnegut truly mastered a form that did not come off as pretentious, overly intelligent, or childish. It was perfect. And had it not been for this man, it would have taken me much longer to start reading again.

So, thank you, Mr. Vonnegut. You have shown the world that it is OK to laugh at yourself. And you have shown us that it doesn't take a lifetime of hard living to kill us. And you have shown me that amazing literature isn't about how well you use multi syllabic words, but how well you can connect with the person reading it. It is about telling a great story that a person will never forget. It is all about us.

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"

So it goes.

Failed Careers In Music: Total Recall (2003-2003)

Of all my endeavours in music, I would say that this was the first band I had an inkling of pride to be in. Of course it all fell to shit, but what hasn't, really? Anyway, in the wake of Virginia Is For Lovers breaking up, I felt the need to play music once again. It was at this time I joined two bands, the first of which was called Total Recall. I believe the band was called Alliance first, then Allegiance, until we finally settled on one of the greatest movies of all time as a band name. Eat your heart out, Kuatto.

Anyway, after being in a band that sounded like a shitty Misfits ripoff and an underoath worship band, it was nice to be in a band that played fast melodic-hardcore stylings. We didn't do anything special. We didn't even have a proper release. But we had fun while it lasted, so I deemed it necessary to write about it.

When the band first started, it was Mikey Hawkins, Tyler Trular, Matt Fisher, Tom Fuquay, and myself. This ragtag bunch got a few songs together and eventually went to record a couple songs in Gainseville with Rob McGregor. These two songs, one of which eventually became a Years From Now song, were later added to a few others to fill out a demo. Here is the track listing;

1. The Tourist Agenda

2. Mend

3. A.D.D.

4. The Children's Crusade

5. Shut Your Mouth (And Sympathize)

6. Photocopy

7. Tractor Man

Tractor Man was written by our monstrous and terrifying friend Derrick (who is currently incarcerated for bank robbery and a handful of other criminal acts).

Eventually, Tyler was out of the band, to which we added Viking Lord Justin Lauer to bang on the skins of men he'd sacrificed for sonic pleasure. This is when we recorded the 5 songs not recorded in the first session.

We played some shows. There was a miniature tour that I did not partake in. We even played a benefit show for our friend Mr. Ladwig who had passed (who VIFL played a reunion at as well). This was the same show Matt "had something in the parking lot" for any outted rapists in the crowd.

Some point after this, I quit being in Total Recall because my friends are racists. Derrick took my place as bass player. Not too long after, Matt decided to move to Richmond, VA, which led to Tom becoming the vocalist, which led to Josh Herrin playing guitar. They played two shows (?) after this, one being a show with Scraps and Heart Attacks, Thieves and Assassins, and Crime In Stereo. This was the same show Tom introduced a new song called "God Lives In Virginia" which never got recorded, which is probably for the best.

Currently, Justin is beardless. Tom is a father. Matt is a soon to be father. Mikey still smells like pesto. Josh is in Korea serving in the military. Derrick is in Virginia, where he is serving time for one of the most ridiculous crime sprees I've ever heard of.

I do have recordings of this band, so once I eventually get around to figuring out the technology, I will upload it for your listening pleasure.

Dreams Are Said To Be The Pathway To Thy True Self; I Fight Cheetahs With Fruit Punch

I don't even think this entry needs an introduction.

So, for some reason, my family had relocated to some tiny country in Africa. Because we had lost all of the conveniences of the United States, we were put into a training class in order to learn how to farm. This included a seminar on irrigaiton. Unforunately, this seminar did not last long enough.

Right as we got into the good stuff, a team made up of a male lion and a cheetah came strolling into the camp, knowing full well that we had no way to arm ourselves against any sort of wild animal attack. So, of course, everyone is in a panic.

This is when I realize my dad is nowhere to be found in the seminar. I realize this because he pulls up in a golf cart and begins to take down the lion bare handed. At some point in our trip, it had escaped my mind that he became a big game wrangler. So, this leaves me to deal with the cheetah.

My only response is to throw something at it. The only thing I have in my hand is the Big Gulp of fruit punch I brought with me from the U.S., so I throw it promptly. This hits the cheetah, and (this is the most realistic part of the dream) this does not deter the ravenous predator from futher advancing. The cheetah pounces.

And once he lands on me, he pulls out, from behind his back, a huge ball of yarn. I try to get up, but the cheetah pins me down and hands me the ball of yarn. Apparently, I am not allowed up because I am forced to play a game of yarn-ball with it.

Then I wake up.

Failed Careers In Music: Virginia Is For Lovers (2003 - 2003)

Here is another attempt at music that was a horrible failure (as some would consider). I however, found this band to be a success for a number of reasons. Some people actually did like this music, as well as the fact that it does exist on my iPod. So, here is a brief history of a band that I used to be in (which was much better than the last).

After Dead End Dreams broke up, we tried to do another band, which resulted in one practice and no results. I wanted to play music, and had heard that a few mutual friends of Every Waking Moment need a bass player (Mikey wasn't cutting it, obviously, with his lack of talent and looks, and whatever else he lacks). It consisted of Tom Porter (guitars/vocals for Runner Up, a popular local pop-punk band at the time), Chad Smith with his flaming red mane, and a 15 year old Danny Skelly. I showed up at Tom's house at the time with my combo amp, ready to learn some songs, which I did and we played no more than 11 shows, but more on that later.

The sound of this band would be somewhat considered screamo (as far as the mainstream version of this went), with bands like Underoath, I Have Dreams, Boys Night Out, and Hot Cross as a few influences. Unfortunately, none of us had experience playing this music, so I guess you could say it was good for beginners. Anyway, we decided to record. Our three song EP was called XOXO, and was recorded by local ska-punk band leader Jim Nefferdorf of Brownie Points fame. Here's the tracklist;

1.Blood On The Moon

2.Close My Eyes

3.If I Had A Knife

So we started playing shows, 11 total, and crossed the state of Florida, which was cool since that was a first for most of us. We even played at The Social in Orlando, which was quite odd. We became friends with a band called If I Should Die in Jacksonville, and were close with Every Waking Moment, so they always had shows for us. We played in Lake Wales once, and Haines City (which is the South Daytona to Daytona Beach, essentially). Lake Wales had a creepy, abandoned hotel we went into, which I will never go into again. We met Andy, who was a super good dude, and actually had a great deal of fun in this band.

We eventually wrote a few more songs, which I wish we had recorded (The only title I can remember from any of them was "On Top Of The World, At The Foot Of This Hotel"). We even did a cover of Tatu's "All The Things She Said" (which was awesome). I'm not quite sure how we called it quits, but we did.

Today, Tom and Danny live together in Texas. Danny is an incredible artist, while Tom still writes damn good music. Chad just got a job working for the Gainesville Sun. And we all know where I stand. I miss these guys.

Failed Careers In Music: Dead End Dreams (2002 - 2002)

Of my many musical forays, I will always have a black mark on my record. Sure, we've all had our embarrassing first bands (for those of you who play instruments). But none so great as the abomination that hit Daytona in 2002. Just thank the heavens that this monstrosity stayed within city limits, and lasted less than a handful of months. Welcome to the story of Dead End Dreams.

First of all, there really isn't much to say about a band that's name came up while the drummer was taking a shit. The band started out as three kids banging on newly acquired instruments. I had just gotten my first bass, while Josh had just gotten his first guitar. The first time we ever played together consisted of playing shitty Linkin Park covers in his bedroom, while his creepy brother pulled all of his hair out from some disorder. At some point, Austin gets his first drumset, which he sets up and bangs on for a few weeks before we decide to start putting music together.

So we start getting some things loosely written and realize that we don't have a singer. At this point, we promptly recruit Calvin, a 19 year old Misfits fanatic who was a bit loud, but thought that it would be alright. He also had a car, which the three 15 year olds in the band didn't. So, we write.

With hit songs like "Necrobeastiality" and "Crash and Burn" we decided to try out a set of shitty covers and even shittier originals at some birthday party in Josh's front yard. Terrible. There was also the tiny show we played in my parents backyard. Horrific. After getting a taste of playing to other people, we thought it would be a good idea to see about playing a Daytona Hardcore show. Being newcomers, we had no idea what was going on. Our first show was basically every Daytona band we knew playing the Church. Runner-up, The Autumn Offering, Fortitude, Every Waking Moment, and Dead End Dreams played. And blew.

This was the notorious show where the cover of Minor Threats "Small Man, Big Mouth" was accompanied by Calvin reading the lyrics off a tiny pad of paper in his hand. Thus solidifying our place outside of Daytona Hardcore, and officially banning us from the Cool Club.

There was also the show at the abandoned-movie-theatre-turned-venue called Almost Music, with Of A Divergent Blood, Every Waking Moment, The Autumn Offering, Suffocate Faster, Affront, and A Life Once Lost (what?). This clusterfuck of a makeshift battle of the bands was also the night I lost my virginity, thus putting a nice cap on the end of our streak as Daytona's Second Worst Band.

So, there it is. The most embarrassing period of time in my life. Today, Josh is in Korea serving in the army. Calvin is a tattoo artist somewhere in the tiny state of Connecticut. Austin is a father of a boy named Asa and lives in Orlando. And you all know my story. I will say this; if anyone has tape recordings or video of this colossal auditory STD, then let me know. I'd love to make sure the world never sees it again.

Dreams Are Said To Be The Pathway To Thy True Self; I Am Not Afraid of Ground Beef Monsters

Here is the second dream that rocked my subconcious years ago, though I still remember every detail. Keep this tiny fact in mind; I've never done drugs. And here we go;

In this dream, I had a job on a cruise ship. Unfortunately, it was not the glamourous cruise ship job we all want one day. My job description entailed packing ground beef into 7 designated closets. Don't ask me why. But I did my job as well as I could. Until I finished the 6th closet. I turned around to retrieve the last back of ground beef to be packed, and when I turned back, all of the closets I had previously packed were empty. So, in a fit of rage, I threw down my apron and left.

When I walked up onto the deck of the ship, I noticed a crowd of people staring into the water. I decide to take a look, only to discover that there is a monster made of ground beef attacking the hull of the ship. My initial reaction is "well, there it went." Everyone disperses because they realize that it cannot get onto the deck.

Suddenly, the monster is on the deck. Everyone freaks out. The monster begins walking towards a group of people, the whole time transforming into a more human shape. It is then I realize that the monster has transformed into a naked Cuba Gooding, Jr. Then I wake up, confused. Again.

What?

My Parents; The Model of Being A Kid While Being Responsible

I have the greatest parents in the world. It's as simple as that. And there isn't a person who could argue that, because if you did, you'd be wrong.

Growing up, I was one of the few kids who had parents who were actually together. As I got older, I began to realize that what should have been a normal situation was not the case, and was actually the reverse of most people. My friends whose parents were still together also hated each other, so it was kind of weird to say "my life is normal" to them without feeling like a braggart.

Here is why my parents are the best, though. It is not every day you meet adults who are young at heart. Sure, they didn't have an easy life, but they had enough sense to understand that we are only here once. They knew what they liked and what they wanted, and they always got it because they worked for it. It might not have always been practical, but it made us all happy.

My mom is the mom who is the nicest person. Ever. She busts her ass working in food service just to save up for some wild Disney vacation. She's not a good dancer, but she dances anyway (which I think both my brother and I have acquired that trait). She is super ticklish, but you don't even have to tickle her to torture her (spider hands work just fine). Most importantly, she was always that mom who defined mother. She sacrificed everything to raise us. If she wasn't at a baseball practice, she always made it to the games. Half the time, I thought she worked at my school because she was so involved with PTA. When I moved out the first time, it broke my heart to see how disappointed and scared she was for me. And she was right. But when I had to move back in, she kept a room just in case. She saved my life.

My dad is a bit of a different story. Deep down, I know he cares, but he's quiet about it. My sex talk was him tossing me a box of condoms and saying "you know how to use these" (oh how wrong was he). He taught me how to throw a baseball (even though I still throw sidearm). I knew he always had hard jobs, so I always tried not to bother him as much. For as long as I can remember, he has driven a Chevy Camero. Some of my friends say he looks like a less crazy, better looking Gary Busey (and he kind of does) but he hates it so much that I have blocked that thought from my mind. I would say he reminds me of a less Scientology-y John Travolta (sans cleft chin). But despite the quirks, he always showed me that it was important to treat women right. He always showed my brother and I that my mother was just as important to him as we were. He was the example of a man that every child should have in their life (thanks dad).

I have always felt guilty growing up without some hardship. Yeah, we didn't have alot of money. Sure, we didn't always have the coolest new toys. But we had food. And clothes. And a decent house to live in. And a family that cared about everything you did. And I couldn't have asked for a better childhood.

So thank you, Mom and Dad. I never say that enough.

A Case Of Multiple Identities

Growing up, I lived in a normal neighborhood. We lived on the corner, and there were a number of kids down the road, although I was the only one born in 86. Everyone else was either 2-3 years older or younger than me, so I eventually resorted to bookworming. Between Goosebumps, Animorphs, and fighting with David Valderama, I didn't really have an interesting childhood.

It wasn't until I was almost out of high school that I noticed the anomaly that lived at the end of my road. I'm still not sure what his name is, or if he is even considered sane, but I do know this; he was never the same person twice in one week.

My first memory of this man was his house. It wasn't that he lived in a house that was covered with elven decor or painted with psychedelic vomit. It was a normal brown house in Coventry Forest. Most people would drive right by it and not think twice...if it weren't for the 20 or so vacuum cleaners posted in his driveway.

The man had a collection of cleaners that were continuously on sale. What was worse is that it always seemed that they were different. And it wasn't often that you would see him sitting outside trying to sell them, but every now and again, he'd be out there. In a robe. Or a dress. Or a state troopers uniform. Or a Muslim head dress.

There was also the story of my late night encounter with this gentleman. It had to be 4 in the morning, coming home from Orlando or a friends house (the event doesn't matter). As I go to turn into my neighborhood, I see a man directing traffic towards my road. It wasn't until I was 50 feet from the man that I noticed it was the vacuum salesman. In full trooper garb and caution vest. Alright then.

The next day, I pull up next to a white molester van only to notice that it was the vacuum salesman/traffic trooper. Only this time, he was wearing a sundress, full makeup, and diamond earrings. In a windowless van.

I hadn't seen him for months after that, mostly due to my busy schedule, or my aversion to seeing him, but the next time I did, it seemed that he found religion in Islam. His beard had come in nicely, terroristly, and his head dress was certainly traditional turban.

Since I moved from the neighborhood, I don't see him so much. The last time I did, though, his yard was still dressed with cleaners and a new addition; sewing machines. I mean, all I know is that if I ever really met this man, I'd be afraid to shake his hand, but afraid that if I didn't, he'd hurt me in some horrific, torturous way.

So, godspeed, Mr. Identity Crisis. May all your personalities thrive and be successful.