Monthly Archives: April 2006

i just realized i spend a lot of time waiting on more things than what i bargain for. day to day, week to week, and eventually, year to year.

money can’t buy you back the time spent to make it.

i’d have better luck counting the grains in a sea of sand, than i would to count my blessings..

hoppy hoppy birthday, to the bestest snazziest partner in crime i could ever wish for. :”>

i spent virtually the whole day at the nerdery, cleaning up layouts and code. a pounding headache inherited from last night’s shenanigans at manhattan beach wasn’t stopping me for some web work. uploaded new photos from the past few weeks, and trying to clean up the store for some sort of grand opening. i spend too much time in front of a cathode ray tube. need. to. escape.


help. headache.

the sequoia war-car was tilted at an awkward angle when i went out to get something from the garage yesterday. as i went around, i saw that a rear wheel had gone caput. rubber like molten ice cream on the asphalt. nice. running over nails suck.

gorgeous 80 degree weather all along the soCal coast. such a beautiful day. spent in a windowless audit room. shared company with spreadsheets, and my slew of miniature post-its.

i saw better than ezra and sister hazel last weekend. chalking up my 90’s fanfare before they all disappear. so far i’ve seen pearl jam, tracy chapman, DMB, weezer, NIN, joe satriani, audioslave, jill sobule, stereophonics, badly drawn boy, black crowes, billy corgan, toad the wet sprocket. the 90’s rawk! but it would really kill me to see the smashing pumpkins. it. will. kill. me.

tomorrow is john scofield, back to back sets on the sunset strip. should be a sick, sick show!! and then off to coachella next weekend!! :)

china is purportedly selling the organs of freshly executed convicts. this has apparently long been speculated by human rights and health organizations, but the secrecy of these executions make it an allegation that’s hard to prove.

adam smith’s invisible hand is not so invisible, sometimes.

dimsum is good for the soul. especially when you used to be allergic to shrimp. radiohead once said, “just because you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.”

i wonder if the opposite is true – just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean it’s not there. i’ll eat my cockroach of the sea nevertheless. what me worry? the worst that can happen is to die happy. chalk one up, for death by dimsum! happy easter greetings. :)

what a crappy day. and i don’t foresee that the next couple of months will be quite peachy at the hamster wheel. what bothers me is knowing that the next steps will be short bursts without allowing me much distance nor momentum to propel foward. that the details will start to eat me up in the struggle to keep afloat in the bigger picture of things.

the days when you come home with a genuine smug of contentment are far and long in between.

and in between dreams i struggle to see in color, hear in prose, and walk with purpose and rhythm. the wonderful thing, is that the world can afford you that. the minimum of which, is what you deserve. or maybe that’s just my card of hope in a soiree with the aces up my sleeve. pony up, let’s up the ante.

Click me!
a big yellow machine built your house. in a vast world ruled by economics and nomenclature. snap! goes a picture. here soon will lie a new beginning. here soon will disappear an end.

when there’s not much, i hesitate enough to possibly falter. where there’s little to do i stand back and wait until the sense of urgency fills to fuel my flames. i think i need a bigger hand on these projects of the hamster wheel. sometimes, mediocrity and passive days isn’t my style.


i tried to write, but nothing gave it justice.
you and i need a beer, fool.

happy birthday babe. :)

the world offers disenchantment, dreams to dissapate by the dozen, and the best things in life that flash in the bat of an eyelash. no matter how much we succeed in playing by rules deemed legit, it’s easiest to end the day by romanticising our trivial pursuits. there’s always a glimmer hidden in the trenches of our weary souls.