Toggle This Taurean Switch

Me too Me too!

2006-10-03T13:05:31Z

Congratulations on the new kitty Aaron!
I can also announce a new member of the family to my household. Abbey and I got an adorable new kitty to help keep ella company.

Behold!

His name is Oliver, or Ollie and likes milk.

Show me yours and I'll show you mine...

2006-09-15T13:29:46Z

Congratulations to the new Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Sayre. I had a great time and am so glad I was able to go. I have plenty of pictures that I just have been too forgetful about uploading onto my computer, but in the mean time, I really want to see all the others that were taken. I've already seen Brian "Best Beard" Abrams, and they were lovely (despite Steph's rugged insistence to take pictures of me). Does anyone have any more?

Love to all,
Peter

Aaron "aaron" Sayre's Wedding plans!

2006-07-24T00:37:03Z

What are they?

I think I might be driving, but only if I can get people to ride with me to support my poor honky ass in the gas department.

What dreams may come once my brain stops making sense.

2006-07-21T02:07:48Z

I have this bad tendency to let dreams effect (affect?) an entire day. It doesn't happen all that often and the consequences are far from severe. But all the same, I will have some sort of dream that I deem a bad one and it's residue will just stick to my day like bird kaka on a newly washed car. I guess this happens. People have something in their head that plays wipeout on the REM cycle gong, and all the next day their cerebral 'ears' are ringing.

The bitch of my situation is that the dreams that affect (effect?) me the most are the one's that are the most senseless and random. These are the dreams that would make Frued's penis flacid.

Obviously, I am writing this because I had one such dream last night. Obviously, I wanted to share it with you all along, which would explain the rambling overture (that I must admit consists of at least one joke that fails to hit it's mark). So, let's forget this french tickle foreplay and go straight to absurdity.

I dreamt that me and Brad (nugget) and someone who I can't recall went to an old timey movie theater place where they sold marijuana for you to smoke. Not only that, they sold it in these, I guess you'd have to call them pipes, that were shaped suspiciously like cukoo clocks. You inhaled where the bird exited. These cukoo potshots where pretty awesome as I remember, but alas, our fun was short lived as we were subsequentely busted.

I don't remember the exact arrest, but the next thing I do is that we three were placed in a jail of some sort. It appeared to be the living room of someone's house complete with two couches, a loveseat, a coffee table, and an assortment of display cases and end tables. The only door out was blocked off by plys of wood. It was very dimly lit.

I knew whose house it was for some reason. There is a woman who I used to work with at the charlestown rd. coffee shop named Valerie. She is about 32 and has pretty low self esteem. She is nice.

For whatever reason, I needed to get out of the jail room immediately. So, I began pounding and pounding on the wood until it eventually gave way. It wasn't a very good jail. Valerie was in the next room watching t.v. with her back to me and I stalked up behind her, ready to vocalize my leaving, when she said, "I never thought you would be one to leave your responsibility." She said this in a mean way. So, I went back to the jail and went to sleep.

The rest of the dream was just me getting out of jail and looking for a part to my bike.

I have no bike.

So what does this mean? I have no idea what responsibility I may be shirking that would warrant such a ballsy accusation in such a wierd way.

Should I be nicer to people with low self esteem?
Should I keep in mind how easy it is to get out of jail?
Should I smoke more pot/try smoking it out of a cukoo clock?

Anybody?

Meh, I got bored and thought of something to write about. It's okay if you didn't make it all the way to the end.

I'm a monster in hot ass guy form!

2006-07-14T00:05:23Z

I have poison ivy.
I was very confused when my arms started vomiting up little oozy bumps because I haven't spent any significant time outside in a while.
We went to the pharmacist in Rite aid and demanded to know what was wrong with me and where I might have contracted some manner of herpes devilry. He said that there is always the possibility of a dog or cat.

I have no air conditioning in my adorable little apartment, and, in order to try to help my little roommate out, I leave the window open so Ella can crawl around happily on the roof. I went out there today to investigate, and lo, I found a huge bush of poison ivy just waiting to make people all bumpy and itchy.

So, it was, once again, my badass cat trying to kill me for the insurance money.

You can see the murderer trying to claw it's way out of Ella's pupils.

Eh, why not?

2006-07-09T23:31:54Z

When I was younger I was fully aware that I didn't really know anything at all, but I also knew that there was plenty of stuff to know. And I figured that as I grew up, all of that information would just gradually seep it's way into my spongy, vibrating cranium. The information that I am talking about is the general sort of grown up/real world stuff like what the hell a mortgage is, and who takes care of trash pick up.
Funnily enough, this information does not live in the air, and will not, in fact seep it's way anywhere of it's own accord. So, I still don't really know anything at all. I, for one, kind of think that this is awesome.
Don't get me wrong. This is not a glorification of ignorance. (I'm reminded of Chris Rock's stand up and how he said that a nigger's [sic] kryptonite is books and how they love to not know something.)
I'm just saying that I like to be reminded a lot of how little I know. This helps as I have a tendency to assume that my head's as big as Slash's Marshall Full Stack.
"What would spurn this fine young gent into this obscure realm of thinking?" is probably the question you are asking. Well, the answer is that I have been painting my bathroom. And while that seems like quite the simplistic idea, for whatever reason it has shed a hardy amount of light on just how much I do not know about painting a room in a house. *note: I don't think I have ever used the word 'hardy' before.

For those of you who have seen my bathroom, a concensus could easily be reached regarding the horrid decor. The previous tenant, perhaps even the landlord, put a very late eighties border across the middle of the wall depicting any number of flowers which would look lovely at a funeral home. There is a dark, aged, maroon wallpaper festively deadening the lower half. As for the top half, check it, forest green, dirty pink, and dingy purple sponge paint.
If they were to see it, the queer eye guys would act stereotypically over-dramatic to the point of burning down the house with their flamyness. i think I would find that annoying.

So, I decided, for once in my independent life, to do something to improve my general state of living instead of just avoiding the homestead. I'm painting the goddam room light blue.

But in the big run-up to this, there were any number of questions that I had no answers to. Such as: I once heard that you were supposed to paint over wallpaper (don't worry, I figured that one out), how do you get the wallpaper off the wall, how many coats, should I paint a white base over it first, how do I not get it on the carpet that the landlord generously put in the bathroom for some reason, and how do I keep my badass cat from making badass tracks with the paint?
Never being sensible, I opted out of the "ask a paint salesman guy" option and decided to just dive in and see if I sank or swam.

I really don't have an answer as to whether I became a duck or a brick, because I need a wallpaper scraper thing.

Maybe that is an answer unto it self: I neither sank nor swam, but instead sputtered dangerously until I was pathetically dragged out of the pool by a stern lifeguard telling me how much I needed a wallpaper scraper thing. oh, and all the girls by the pool were laughing at me too.

I just thought I would put this out there.

In other news:
Summer Reading list, both done and upcoming:
King Dork by Frank Portman
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Native Son by Some Black Man

In other other news. Tom Waits is fucking touring. And I have made the decision to try my best to go see him. BUT, I can't go to the one at the palace. Instead I think I am going to the show in Chicago on August 9th. I have no one to go with and would prefer company. So. Holla.

Here's Ella, getting ready to get paint all over me valuables.

The Best Keeps Getting Better!!

2006-01-24T02:46:02Z

My car died for good today.

My roommate plans fell through as well.

Without a car I can't get to work or school or find a place to live.

I have to be out of here in six days.

help.

Putting a megaphone next to the susurration...

2006-01-21T06:03:57Z

Hello.

Friday, at around 12:30. I have to be up in six hours to babysit an empty restaurant and make sure nothing happens for about four hours.

This week...

If I've ever said that I felt like I was on a rollercoaster before, then I was either lying, or I was on one of those kid ones where the cars are shaped like a caterpillar and the highest altitude reached is somewhere close to three feet, because THIS is probably closer to what a rollercoaster feel like. And not even that! The hills, loops, and valleys have somehow crossed each other out to where they all equal 0. This makes it especially hard to determine whether it has been a good or bad week. I feel like one of those ridiculous machines in half assed arcades, theme parks, or small town carnivals where there is a sharp ledge upon which sits a multitude of coins (which would certainly make you rich if you could get them), and all you have to do is add another coin to the pile and then hopefully it will be just enough to send all the excess spilling off and into your pocket, fullfilling your dreams of financial security. Well, I'm a coin on the ledge, getting pretty bored with sitting there and wanting someone to take that chance and send me home, but people keep walking by because they have never heard of anyone getting rich off of such an obviously shysty machine.

A recap?

Now:

I have to be out of this shell of an apartment in a week and a half. This sounds lovely. I cannot tell you how empty it feels. Over the past five months I have gradually moved my livable space more and more inward until, at the present, I reside and live in my room. I had hopes for this place a year ago. And it's no one's fault that my roommate decided a jealous, angry girlfriend over such an awesome (and hilarious) Amos. I depend on things too much, and take it too personal when they become unstable. I've obviously grown. I harbor no ill will, and thankfully have found the gumption (good word, though I'm sure no one knows what it means) to continue with my chain of rental living.

I have been reassured that I no longer have to look for apartments (at least one bedrooms), BUT do not have a

set plan. This is fine. I will just be so glad when the dust has settled and I have to get the pledge out to clean the furniture in my new place because all the dust has settled there. (cheap, but you know you at least smiled.)

Somehow, WAY beyond schedule, I have managed to finish this album. And it is good, oh so good. Right now, I'm listening to Deep Puddle Dynamics. This is one of the first albums to inspire me to embrace my ever present love of hip hop and make it my own, and guess what, I think mine is better than this. HA! I'm AWESOME!

The search for a job has continued. The odds state that I will find myself in a less than desirable position soon. This is fine. It will not be Cafeteria 360.

Other things happened that are all some weird mutant good/bad ninja, fighting all things concrete and making them into confusing gray areas.

Thanks ninjas... for NOTHING.

So now I know of two other people who have just started seeking counseling for their problems. Not that I have felt crazy for getting help, but it's just so nice to know that I'm not all that alone. I'm so happy for you guys. For me, this has been like some sort of last season Full House episode (you know, when Kimi Gibbler had some sort of juvenile drinking problem... basically I'm alluding to a tired cliche) where the first step was to admit that I had some issues. And somehow, that made me feel so much better. I hated getting so sad over nothing, and I didn't want to say anything to anyone just because I knew I had no reason to feel like that.

Cheers to the emotionally stunted! Unite! (carefully)

Wooo! In your face mental blocks!

2006-01-19T06:15:40Z

Okay.
Seriously, I have just finished the last song in what will be my first full length album.
I swear to GOD! It's done. It's good. I'm proud.
BUT! I lost all the money I was going to use to put this out due to roulette wheels and fresh kicks. Just kidding, I'm just really poor.
I really need to get this out as soon as absolutely possible. This needs to be off my chest and absorbed into pop culture never to be heard from again.
SO...
What you can do is either:
1. get me on shows where I can make money in order to put it out.
2. point me in the direction of cheap duplication places (I've already got a few in mind, but I want to make sure I'm getting the best deal.)
3. Pat yourself on the back for being the most patient fans ever.
4. Realize that I (and to a lesser extent L. Ron Hubbard) love you very much.

****** This was the post I put on myspace out to all my dedicated and trained fans, but I thought I should share it with livejournal so it wouldn't get jealous. This is very exciting.

Good night

Blood Rain! Revenge of the hemoglobins!!

2006-01-17T14:06:19Z

I'm bored.

I have to wake up somewhere between 630 and 650 on tuesday, thursday, and saturday in order to drag my feet into work by 7. Bravely, I accomplish this daring feat everytime (except the occasional 10 minute late thing), and then I just sit in this awkward restaurant until about 11. BOOO! to that.
If you willingly get up that early for someone, there should be the promise of adventure or excitement, for instance I would gladly get up this early to start a road trip headed for Brazil (Or BUST!!!) I would most certainly get up this early if there was a fire and my astute skills of anxiety and charm were direly needed to coax people down from blazing lofts. And I would DEFINITELY get up this early if Doc really needed me to be at the Twin Pines Mall to videotape his latest experiment. (I mean, I would HAVE to get up this early in order to allow myself the necessary skateboarding time.) But, as you have seen, one thing that is not on my 'gettin' up, gettin' out' list is getting up this early in order to sit in an empty restaurant listing to Sirius Satellite's Top R&B/Rap station, counting how many times they play the same song in the span of three hours (usually at least two.).
Ah! I can hear you asking, "Will you please tell us more?" Of COURSE!
The one thing that did happen today, took place about 25 minutes ago, when a sadly malshaped man came in to order some pancakes! Oh, the malshapedness! Oh the Pancakes (which were also sadly malshaped)! I mean, he wasn't deformed or anything. He just had this really squat body and this cube shaped head put directly onto his shoulders neverminding the absence of a neck. Also, his eyes stared off separately at 45 degree angles, I've never seen such a perfect lazy eye. So, technically he was just a bit funny looking, but I NEED the excitement and so MALSHAP-ED I say!

GAH!

(Enter Dramatic tone of voice) This is what this morning has reduced me to!

In other news:
I went out with Sarah yesterday and did some serious apartment hunting, not that humorous kind that doesn't do shit and leave you with a tummy ache. I had been so discouraged about this whole thing, but when I had another person there it just seemed so easy. We looked at this awesome apartment in Downtown Jeff that's the top floor of a house that was built in 1840! How cool is that! It's probably definitely haunted!
I'm still admittedly freaked out by moving, I always always am. But there is always a part of me that gets so excited. Unfortunately, that part is smothered with the pillow of anxiety.
I need to get a new pillow.

In even other news:
I finally saw King Kong again last night. What an awesome movie.

I have to go cook myself some foods. And then sit around some mores. So goodbye, and I hope everyone has a great day.

***** Real Quick******
I generally like Jay-z. Compared to the rest of the mainstream (minus Outkast) he's John freaking Lennon. But I fail to understand his urgent need to say "Wooo!" in every song. And it's not the Lil' John "Yeah" thing, because that's obviously a party time yell (obviously). But when Jay-Z says his "Wooo!" I just picture him saying it on a merry-go-round in a park.

Why do I decide to do these things when I'm this tired.

2006-01-16T06:53:05Z

What a nice day.

As a rule, I have hated Sundays since I was somewhere in the vicinity of 10 years old. After much thought on the subject, I have diagnosed the problem as being the result of me having all the energy I normally have, and everybody else's urgent desire to do nothing. This is not the world's fault, but mine. The problem is that I have such a hard time relaxing, or, failing that, don't have enough to keep my mind occupied. Luckily, I have found that holing up in a coffee shop on a Sunday and doing you homework is pretty awesome for me. It takes all of my insipid restlessness and fashions it through the virtue of learning into something pretty (HA!). ALSO, there is a new weekly tradition of role playing which, while being embarrassing and slightly fattening, is a great excuse to spend lots of bonding time with friends that sometimes seem distant. Top that off with a surprising amount of cartoons, great pizza, and pretty girls and you've got a decent Sunday.

Go to bed.

Desperation!

2006-01-13T07:03:33Z

If anyone needs a roommate, needs to move, has a room, knows someone who fits these three, or rocks the salt off pretzels with the artful expression of dance get ahold of me.

I'm cool.

See?

Another something

2006-01-12T05:54:48Z

Sometimes I really think that I am the weirdest person in the world. And not at all like those dumb ass t-shirts or patches that say idiotic things like, "Fuck yeah, I'm weird." Instead I feel more like a writhing torrent of emotions, and by that I mean as if I am on this ratty, old raft careening down this 70 degree cliff of churning rapids, which symbolize (dramatically) my thoughts.
While I am aware that there were a whole lot of adjectives with negative connotations in that last sentence, this is not always a bad thing. (I mean, technically it is because I should, above anything else, be trying to sustain stability.) Seemingly out of nowhere (but most probably due to external stimuli), suddenly everything is all right. This is fantastic because it gives me a control to monitor my moods, which I can gladly say have been stabilizing themselves lately after a rough change of seasons.
Most importantly, the calm that I am feeling now is such a good thing because it allows me to let my mistakes go. Ideally, I should be doing this constantly, but I'll take any break I can get. I've been doing pretty well at the whole self forgiveness thing (albeit that this is based on a survey of the last couple of weeks).
I don't honestly know where the hell I got these high expectations for myself, truth be told I think that it has shackled me more than inspired. l'm pretty sure I've never been a really big jerk, but if I show even the slightest bit of impoliteness (which 98% of the time is GROUNDLESS) I'm convinced that I wronged the universe (exaggerated, but you get the idea). It's probably the nicest thing in the world to have some release from the pressure, and I owe so much to the forgiveness of wonderful people.

Good night, and good night

Hey how about taking a ten minute break from mumbling.

2006-01-09T23:44:43Z

So, I'm here just completely baffled by this biology woman and what she thinks a lecture consists of. First day of class, no syllabus, no introductions, no explanations. Just, "Hey, I'll start mumbling and showing you slides, and you try to take notes as I write something on the board and then immediately erase it." Maybe it's her first day of teaching, or maybe this is just the way college science is taught (i've never had a class in college science) but whatever is going on here, I have some severe hesitations with trusting blonde women with pink knit sweaters teaching me biology through chemistry. Enemies of the state is what I shall hereby dub them. WATCH OUT!

Breaks over.

And then...

2006-01-09T08:07:36Z

I decide to wait out on the bus stop bench for the live journal bandwagon that went passed about six years ago. All the same, I'm excited. And each of you on this drama inducing digital wailing wall knows how excited you became after some friend of a friend got around to getting you your very own free account. Well, I'm that kind of excited. And don't judge me because I'm a little late in being so. I mean, nobody mocks old people for going to college. (Is it just me, or would that be funny?)
Listen:
I've had an extremely messed up month and the clouds in my head are just starting to clear up with the partial realization/exposure of the fact that I am too damned secretive. I'm feeling pretty good about stuff right now, so how about I keep my combined audience of 2 riveted with the actual details of how things are actually going. Good? good.
I think this might also be fun to update my combined fanbase of 7 on the Amos goings ons.

It's late.

amosfenrisbane @ 2006-01-08T23:30:00

2006-01-09T04:34:18Z

I have a LiveJournal account.