I want off my ride (spring break '08)

It's hasn't been tiresome.
Nor exalting,
but the past week or three has been quite the rolling coaster.

(And before I go on, There is only one good song on S.C.I.E.N.C.E.)

Thursday was a terribly long day.
I was at the glorious Reynolds High for over 13 hours for 5+ different activities. I'm not bragging. I don't recommend it. Please don't stay there. Don't do sports, don't get involved, and definitely don't socialize. That will make high school terrible. Trust me.

Thursday, back on:
I'm not paying attention while I drive. I need to buydoughnutsandeatthisappleandcallashleyand it's 7:40am and I'mnotthinkingaboutherherher. And My thoughts literally ran together.
The sad part of the story starts when I rear end ever so softly the lady in front of me.
"The light has turned green," I thought. I'll look down and take my foot off the brake. Whack.
Soft whack.
I didn't hurt her, or myself. I left JUST the imprint of my license plate on her bumper.

Here's where I don't understand my life:
I talked to an insurance agent and Earleen for two days. I was complimented about how I handled the ordeal by both. I clearly made a mistake and was driving poorly. It turned into a Boost-Joel's-ego-fest.
I should have been reprimanded by someone.
I'm Joelarken, and I have it too easy.

Friday night to Saturday:
My friend, Oliver, had a quality birthday party. We had a wicked game of hide/seek. I won in the second round. I was in a (*clean) garbage can for twenty minutes. Indeed, I was.
The second part is actually on Saturday, 2 in the morning.

I needed to drive patrons home. Only caffiene and HFCS has been consumed. I'm dropping Billy the kid off and he tells me to turn left from Troutdale Road onto what looks like a driveway.

It's the driveway to the cemetary.

I'm cursing his name and speaking softly. By the time we've driven 100 meters, there's a car behind us.
Let me recap: 2am, cemetary, car behind us.
Okay.

When Billy gets out of the car, the brilliant blues and harsh reds begin to flash.
"What are all of you up to?"
Unrolling my window, "Should I stay in my car or get out."
"It's fine either way."
It sounds like he calls for backup. Rough.
I tell him I'm dropping people off and give street names and neighborhoods. He's walking back to his car:
"I have a question."
"Oh, you have a question, do you?" He's patronizing, but he's the police so I'm okay with it.
"Could I take a breathalyzer test? Is that okay? Does it cost money to do each one?"

"What? Do you think you've had too much to drink?"
"No, I've never touched alcohol."
"Really? Never?"

We talk for five minutes about my family's history of alcohol. He understands addiction is a tough thing to live with. We're thanking each other for being wonderful people by the end and I drive away.
No harm no foul (fowl).

Another car is driving the opposite way, though, in between the tight cement blocks.
Not to worry, it's just the backup. I try to wave, but he didn't see me.
Tinted windows, mmhmm.

I drop Bridgette the kid off and I speed on home. I tried to do as much illegal stuff on the way home as I possibly could.
It's so much easier, when everyone's in.
Are you in?

When I deal with the police, I make them smile.
What does that say about me?
Something good?
I don't know; I almost doubt it.

This is just the start of a beautiful thing.

Two other things, my lasting impressions of these days:
Spring break trip to the coast cancelled. I couldn't drive down to Pacific city.
Understood.
and...
I've made a pact with myself that my current mood will be aroused for a month and it will not change.

The cheetah is the fastest land mammal.

Hope the day goes on
for you
as well.

Here are my ramblings from the Jazz Night of March 6th, 2008.
The young writer, Ben Berry has a few words.

(Lab Band)

Don't push me, Because I'm on the edge
falling down with all smiles.
Soft Ground, the middle, a little pudgy nondescript

BEING THAT, I am only one in a million
BEING THAT, I am all I could be, yesterday

Syke(s!), leave me, retrieve my slippers before I pound you like a 10 oz steak.
But, boy do I love you, babe.
I love that MC's beard:
(J)Gigolo
Why are all the Vibes players cheery?
I mean, Angie Banks, come on.
Flapper you are not, oh trendy harlot.
Grin with crooked teeth, let me down. Bring it down! Why does every song have a Christmas subtone? Is that the underall plot of the night?
"Freewheel with the Jazz Zeitgeist, but also celebrate the solemn birth of Jesus"?
That's on the right track for a load of irony.
I came in late, and That
is a disappointment.
"This is a whole lot better than watching old Perry Mason reruns."
Ballad, Bring in the Axl Rose.
Oh, ohohoh, sweet spring of mine, I used to be reminded of Bakerstreet ever time I heard a saxophone, but now it's just another blow of wind (brass, actually).
The Viber (Vibist) looks like shee's swatting at mites on the Xylo. It's like the thing is a methhead and she's just helping it itch.
Can I just put out how unnecessary it is that Lab is underappreciated?
There's a M*A*S*H theme again, man, it's at every band concert.
Hard! Smach Me In the Face!
Erik, a little too hard, man. This isn't Swamp Monster. I heard some Aretha just now! Where is my mind? (Frank Black)
This sounds nothing like Incubus' rendition.
Oh, it's not the same song.
That makes much more sense.
Heartache, heartbeat, thorofare, brake light, stop sign
Stop me, damsel, your distress call ringing too low, unlike Lil' Jon.
How many people have seen Uncle Buck? Honestly, it's one of John Candy's best.
(Black Band)
Alex, don't be so sophisticated, and sit,
your playing the guitar in a high school's band. Whatever. Do what you want. I'm not your mother.
The plungers are stilll anomalies, to me. Mmmm, TomKat, love that T(r)ombone.
You're right, he does drum with his mouth wide open.
Bursts from the trumpets really make a solo, There's no 'I' in Solo,
but there're four in "I like the vibes and/or guitar."
Nice Widow's peak, saxophonist.

Thoughts, not lost, but still choked upon

So, my birthday was last week.
I kind of had a week to celebrate it.
On the actual eve of it, I was somewhere in Gresham, waiting in my car, then I went back to a low-key party where 2/3 of the 6 people there were laying over eachother and watching Eternal Sunshine. That's my type of party.

During the long day, that 17 years prior, I was finally popped out, I went to Todai (I enjoyed the sushi, despite the reviews of poor quality from people I respect), hung out with Brianna (I wish I could explain how happy that hang-out time made me; I was finally okay to hang out with her, after being terribly uncomfortable not knowing if I want to be with her, months after our breakup), rode down to Lincoln High to watch them stomp on our Girl's Basketball team for their spot in the playoffs, and I finished off in SE Portland at another friend's house, passed out from exhaustion. The plan was originally to go to The Escape. That fell through when I fell asleep.
Whoops.

Next day, I saw There Will Be Blood with a small group.
"I am a false prophet! God is a superstition!"
Daniel Day-Lewis is a great actor.
Also, I learned that the Headlight Game (Hit the ceiling when a broken headlight is seen or take off an article of clothing) can get REALLY intense when you drive aimlessly in Northeast at night for over an hour.

The Early March is the not the time for swimming naked in the Columbia. Almost, almost.

Then there was a week of school.
I was sick and not attending for 40%, so I got the needed rest. Great!
Except History Final next week.
So I'm a ball of stress.
Not really, now, but I will be.

Thursday Night: Jazz Band Performance:
I'll post my puns and stream of conciousness soon.

Then,
Friday Night: Helio Sequence!
Brittany, sweet, honest, different verse of the same song, decided to treat me to a concert and Taco Bell. WOW! Unexpected, really.

We park in some lot downtown and wander up Burnside.
Here's the funniest part of the anecdote: We saw the guys in Helio Sequence walking away from the Crystal Ballroom (and probably to the bar) twenty minutes before the show. I wanted to say, "Hi!" Like the stupid gawker I am, but Brittany kicked me with her eyes, so I didn't.

The show was sold out, though.
We couldn't buy tickets at the door.
Damn!
Here's the golden moment: Everday Music is across the street.
I'm just as happy perusing their used cds and making long stops at both Powell's Books and Pita Pit before ending the night with a canoe talk.

We bought a bunch of stuff.
Sad Sappy Sucker by Modest Mouse, their earliest work. It's bleedingly good.
McLemore Avenue A remaking of Abbey Road by Booker T and the MGs
Digital Ash in a Digital Urn by Bright Eyes
Spoon River Anthology by Masters(I think)
I Hate Myself and I Want to Die: The 52 Most Depressing Songs of All Time
poster of Kerouac's On the Road
bumpersticker that says "Kniting is Knotty"
and a chicken caesar pita

Money well spent.

Probably the best week, despite disease, of the past months.
Life's been good to me so far...