Tenacious D, Wonderboy

You know what the problem is with natural curiousty?

Its a persistent pain in the ass, thats the problem.

I can't help to wonder everytime I'm writing a new diary entry, who in the world reads this shit? And how often do they come back?

I know I'm no Uncle Booby over here, or a sexy Anenigma, or even a dangerously bodacious Weetabix, far from it.

But I still wonder, if I stopped writing in this diary, would anyone care? Would anyone pleed for me to come back, or will I just fall into diary land ablivon unnoticed?

Don't get me wrong, I aint even contemplating the idea of stop writing in this diary. I always have useless shit floating through my head that I can write about. Its just that damn natural curiousty nagging at me like the freakin Rain Man.

"Yeah, yeah, definetly gotta wonder, yeah."

Just, where the hell are all those hits coming from?

I get something like a hundred hits, roughly, a week. Which isn't much for many pages, but its a lot for me. I never had a web site in the past with a hit counter this high.

Checking out my hit counter statistics, I do seem to get a lot of hits from google.

Which reminds me, what the fuck is a google and why the hell can you find my page on there?

Looking at some of the results some people used on there to find my page, makes me realize I write about some preaty funky shit.

Anyway, so I'm dealing with the, "well you may never know" thought process, which to me is annoying as shit. I GOTTA know! I don't know why I gotta know, I just do.

Damn psychosis.

It probably stems from my need to quieston just about everything. I realized quiestioning everything, even the things I have grown comfortable with, gets my thought process boiling, sends my creative levels through the rough, and I bam, I got me a story idea.

I have a friend that many years ago, got a "Quiestion Reality" tattoo on his back. I used to think he was such a poser for that, because it seemed like a cheesy need to rebel against something.

Then, I realized, no truer statement has been said in the world.

It seems, the older I get, the more my musical tastes varies.

When I was younger, I used to always listen to bands like Slayer, Ministry, Megadeth, Metallica *old thrash metal days*, Nine Inch Nails,Ugly Kid Joe,Ozzy Osbourne, Guns and Roses, shit like that. I still do listen to them on occasion, but not as often as I used to.

It seems my tastes have gotten lighter in many ways.

Now don't get me wrong, if its heavy and gets my blood flowing, I'm there dude. Just that it seems I'm moving from industrial/thrash/heavy metal days to more of a heavy rock edge. Probably cause its just about impossible to find a good new industrial or thrash band anymore, and heavy metal, well thats quiestionable because of all the variations of it.

Now I find more often in my CD player, bands like Nickle Back, Tantric, Puddle of Mudd, Disturbed, Alien Ant Farm, Staind, Live, Concrete Blonde, Tenacious D, Blood Hound Gang *even though I hate rap, this shit is funny and some how ....different*, Godsmack,and others.

Which a lot of it is still heavy to many, but not up to the heaviness of old Metallica thrash metal days, Megadeth speed metal, Slayers speed/thrash metal, at least not to me.

And the thing is, it really doesn't disturb me as much as I thought it would, me leaning towards a lighter *but still heavy sometimes* metal and rock. I am just wondering, how much more will my tastes vary, how much more will I move away from music that kicks my ass to music that would be good on a romantic date? I don't think I will, because when music can get me rocking is when I'm the happiest. Its just that, my music tastes changing reminds me of a line from the movie SLC Punk.

"If the old me met the new me, the old me would kick my ass."

I think the definete deciding factor in kowing I'm getting a bit to old for the thrash scene happened a few years back ago.

I was at a gig of my best friend Spanky's, and there opening band was rocking the bar preaty god damn good. So I'm sitting there, enjoying there music, head banging along with it.

About a half hour to forty five minutes into bobbing my head repeatidly, I get this cramp in my neck. We're not talking about a, "Ow, that freakin hurts" kinda cramp. We are talking about, "Holy shit, fire! pain! There is something on my neck and its killing me! Get it off me, get it off!!!"

So I'm forced to stop imediately as all the muscles in the left side of my neck start cramping up hard. I mean really bad, to the point I was straining with all my might to keep my head up right, but was slowly losing the battle as my head leaned to the left. Which at that time I'm thinking "I must look retarded."

There I am, all red faced, heavily breathing, teeth clenched tight as I strain against the muscles in my neck. Of course, no one else knows that the muscles in my neck are cramping up, all they see is me just sitting there looking like I'm trying to lift a fridge over my head.

So, finally I lose out to the cramp as my head is tilted to the left as far as it will go. I'm freaking out cause it hurt like hell, and it wouldn't stop. Slowly the cramp backed off enough for me to straighten my head back out, but for the rest of the night, I couldn't tilt my head to the left without the cramping coming back and forcing my head to tilt to the side completely.

I felt like some fucked up version of a pezz dispensor. I half expected to find a piece of nasty candy sticking out of my neck everytime that happened.

Its times like this that make a man wish he had a girlfriend to massage your neck.

Well, that and anytime you are alone in bed and just want to cuddle, or watching a romantic movie alone, or just craving a little loving care or someone to love and pamper.

*sighs*

damn, I'm becoming more and more of a big wuss as I get older.

So now I'm in my mid twenties and I'm ACTUALLY saying, "I'm getting to old for this shit."

Which is so fucking wrong, I'm not to old, hell I still have a good amount of "young" years ahead of me.

I have been told by some I do have that "old soul" feel about me at times.

Now THAT is a definete sign that I am one poor mofo.

Came into this world so poor, I had to pick me up a used soul at the flee market.

How fucked up is that!

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003