Issue 4 / April 1999

the following is from issue #4 which came out April 30, 1999 - the same day the first DLA CD came out (in mailing envelopes!). Jarod and I also played 2 shows with 2 different bands in 2 different cities that day. Cataract Falls played in Muncie, IN at Ball State University for a benefit concert, packed our things up and played the last show in the Maumee house, upstairs in the living room. Dead Letter Auction was a three piece again as Nick had recently quit. We played a few songs that we didn't ever record - there is video of this show, but I don't have it. I interviewed Justin Pearson in this issue too. That April was actually one of the greatest months ever. The Cataract Falls CD came out, I bought a new guitar that would be stolen a few weeks later in Long Beach, CA, the Grapes of Wrath formed, we got that crazy fucking van and I built that amazing loft in it, and we were about to leave on a tour that was supposed to last 2 months (it lasted just over 2 weeks), and all the above mentioned. I was 22 years old.

***
Sometimes the reasons for being against something becomes the same reason why I stand against it.
an excursion is a journey that ends at the same point it begins, an abyss is a seemingly endless descent.
I knew what I was getting into. I couldn't turn back even if I wanted to, and I don't want to.
Quite circular as my sister would say.
When I find the answers, it will cease to be an abyss, but I will be standing right were I began. I will be standing.
There are as many people to thank as there are stars.
Leave a light on.
***
Maybe all of this hatred, self absorption, deeming everything unfit (feeling superior), is because I am my own worst enemy. Day in and day out I find myself becoming more and more violent in thoughts, becoming the motherfucker I very much despise.
I am a monster.
In the end you will choose to see what you want to see.
You will choose what you want to hear.
You will choose to believe what you want to believe.
The whole will be ignored so suite the perversions of the darkest nature.
It's seeing the light.
Descend with me.
***
Each action is a response.
Consideration.
Don't hold me to anything.
It breeds stagnation.
I'm trying.
I constantly feel the need to explain things,
when I know that words will fail clarity.
Inadequacy.
I can't accept,
only expect or except.
If you're not
you're not.
Dismiss.
Ignore.
Selfishness.
***
It's all been argued for and against, a countless number of ways.
Right and wrong should not exist in the manner that it does.
Black and white should be more concerned with the
denounced or overlooked grey areas.
From what was said you could not possibly understand.
***

At this point, it's not a big secret or anything, but I have major bouts with insomnia quite a bit. like now it's 5:02 am. I should have been asleep about three hours ago, but I just can't sleep. Is this common with everyone? How often do you experience this?
I know people that choose not to sleep, others that are always tired, those that sleep too much. Sleep. It's a strange word, but aren't they all?
At times it seems like such a waste of my time. There are all sorts of sleep aids, I know, but I'm not into putting pills into my body, except vitamins occasionally. So I choose to stare at the walls and ceilings, and watch the shadows dance and turn into memories, figures, or nightmares - or I stay up and type all through the night - it's the abyss, teasing me with the light and the absence of, but I think I know better.
with that said....
I am going to try and go to sleep.
***
I have been sitting here for what seems like hours now.
"We'll give the others five more minutes," a voice interrupts my thoughts and me staring at the floor trying to figure out if there really is a pattern within the tiles. This stuff is ugly, why would anyone want this on their floor? It's the same sort of speckled tile used in most schools I have been in.
Someone just walked in. I happened to glance up to see who was interrupting these thoughts this time. BIG mistake. Our eyes meet by pure accident, at least on my part.
"How ya doin?" he regurgitates all too jolly for me.
I wonder if this is a just a greeting, or if he really wants to know how I am doing. Ha! I don't even know how I am doing. It seems a strange concept to me, that I don't even know how I am doing, if anything, I should at least know that. But I've only recently begun to try to understand what's wrong with me. There is something definitely wrong here. It's like those Highlights magazines, you know the picture game on the back cover, where you try to pick out the things that don't belong, also like on the back of placemats at many restaurants.
"I'm fine." I lie and selfishly do not return the greeting, salutation, question. My eyes return to the task of staring at the floor.
I am so tired that it consumes every square inch of my body. my back aches, is tied in the weirdest of knots, and my spine is swearing that it will break. All of this I attribute to the weird, yet comforting sensation of being tired. It's embrace is untouchable, save for spring breezes after the harshest of winters, and someone you would do anything for. I could pass out right here, right now, if I would just allow myself.
I am here waiting for a job orientation to begin. I chose third shift. Ironic, that I chose the time I normally deny myself sleep, to work.
The nights I do decide to attempt to fall asleep, it's the same thing: staring at the ceiling, denying, questioning, doubting everything in existence; whether I am actually awake or dreaming, it's always there. I'm wondering how can I say something I've put off for months now, how can I say it so it doesn't fall misunderstood; which could possibly ruin such a beautiful and wonderful relationship. It's this thing that's my big secret, so big it toys around with keeping itself secret from me.
Why do I keep faithfully thinking that if I do find these words that all of this negativity will just leave me, that the smile I had when I was five will return to this face?
***
Wednesday, September 9, 1998 4:39 pm
I am functioning on about an hour and a half of sleep. I attended yet another third shift job orientation.
That same voice that interrupted last time with, "We'll give the others five more minutes" was a welcomed and friendly voice this time around, as this one is through the same temp agency.
He kept repeating, much too much like a lock-grooved record, "the others will trickle in as we go along."
and sure enough those others did trickle in, right up until the orientation was over with. If I were that friendly voice, I wouldn't bee too friendly with those who came in as the meeting is about to adjourn, they wouldn't have a job. After all, who wants someone who will show up an hour and a half late for an orientation.
I know I am going to hate this job, I haven't even worked a day yet and I already know I am going to absolutely hate it. and with this attitude I only assure that assumption. So why am I taking it? Hopefully it will push me to do something better. Something beyond me. AND it pays well, which will fund so many projects, if I stick with it. But to sustain shit? Is it worth it? Only time will tell the rewards, and we'll be there waiting.
---------
I quit that job, it did suck, bad.
it even caused many skin irritations.
It did fund #2 and my first book.
I love my present job, which is saying a lot.
anyway...