Riker's Mailbox

Wednesday, June 30, 2004


Copyrightable concept of the evening: "Mexican Racing Bunnies". This is going to be the name of my next rock band, I can feel it.


Too much for tonight. Too private. Too late.

Monday, June 28, 2004


I'm ashamed... it's been too long since I've posted. It's mostly due to my long weekend away from home, but I still don't want to let myself get away from this. I treat blogging like a chore. Not that it's a matter of drudgery like, say, doing other peoples' dishes, but that it's important to do on a regular basis, like, say, cleaning your ears. But more fun. Like, brushing your teeth with charcoal. Because that's the best alternative when you're in the middle in the woods. Swear to God.

Time to get some sleep. I must remind myself to talk about the weekend, because it involved rock stardom and shitloads of alcohol.

Saturday, June 26, 2004


I am finally able to discern what I need to achieve contentment on the microscopic scale: the solace of femininity. I kissed a girl tonight that I would not have expected to kiss, had someone told me I would be doing so by the end of the evening. She was a friend of a friend's sister, and someone whose company I always enjoyed, but that was the extent of it. Acquaintanceship. We haven't seen each other in over a year, but tonight ended up cuddling around a campfire and singing songs together to a crowd of enchanted onlookers. The night was tangible with energy, and it was all thanks to the fledgling chemistry we cultured in our mutual love of music. It was such a simple thing to experience, and will more than likely lead to nothing more than a continued friendship, but it is no matter; just sharing that connection allowed me to usher out a long series of stresses and frustrations I'd been harboring.

It doesn't take sex; it doesn't take a girlfriend; it's simply feeling that someone else is drawn to you. As long as I can keep finding that on a regular basis, I won't have to be so worried about the lack of sex or of a girlfriend. Hmm, I bet it's more likely I'll find one of the latter two before finding a different instance of the former each time I'm out with friends. But it's like the lotto: hey, you never win. Or something like that...

Tuesday, June 22, 2004


Several of my close friends have decided to return to an old tradition of ours: we devote one night a week to spend together, as a means to keep ourselves entertained. In effect it strenghthened the group and bolstered our friendships. We stopped after a long string of drama and interpersonal quarrel, but those who affected those difficult times are no longer in our collective sphere of influence. Yet, the Tuesday Night ritual remained dormant.

Finally it's coming back, and I must say I had a little apprehension about the idea. Part of me said, "It won't be the same". But then rationale kicked in: "It shouldn't be the same".

So many of my nights have been spent pining over fantastic memories, that they are just memories and no longer tangible... but that's the thing about melancholy. The best you can get from it is a desire to feel that way again, and the only way to do that is to create new memories.

Of course it's easier said than done, I know, as one cannot "plan" a truly great night -- one of those holy moments that come from the proper combination of energy and spirit -- with much better than a 1 out of ten success rate. They have to be inspired by something beautiful. Luck is, unfortunately, requisite as well, but hell, I've been a part of so many of such nights in the past; there's nothing to suggest that they will stop happening in my life. That's especially true now that I have such a motivation to be a part of that process again.


I thrive on involvement in the music industry. At the moment, I am a member of two musical entourages: Joe Unglued (an acoustic duo with my long term partner-in-crime Joe Farnsworth), and The Jones Effect (a modern rock power-trio founded by brothers Eric and Josh Arnold).

Since The Jones Effect is a fledgling entity at the moment (recently rebirthed from the ashes of Kings Joker, a Brockport-based group into which I was brought to play bass guitar), we have lots of preliminary work to do in the realm of publicizing. I've spent much of the last two days working on band logos... It's something I've been very enthusiastic about.

Take a look at my favorite, let me know what you think:

(no direct link, since the picture is way too large to appear correctly formatted in the blog... the file is also gigantic, so you might want to take a shower or write a letter to someone while you wait for the file to load)


More on the way, but this was one that I was rather excited about.

Monday, June 21, 2004


In a bizarre twist of normalcy, I have hardly anything to say tonight.

I'm living a little 'Groundhog Day' life, ending up in the same place at the same time every evening... at least it's a fun time I'm having every night though.

Soon I'l have new things to say... I am reviving my addiction to physical activity. Yesterday's Ultimate Frisbee was replaced by today's in-line skating, which will be overtaken by reroofing the party house at Moran's next week. I can't wait.


I am reluctant to say this, simply for fear of jinxing myself, but I feel that I have recovered a significant portion of myself that's been vacant for quite some time. Part may be from the accompaniment of close friends, part may be from the outstanding exercise that comes with a long round of Ultimate Frisbee, but whatever it is, it's been making me feel wonderful.

Running barefoot on artificial turf feels wonderful, but it makes your toenails turn green if you're not careful.

Saturday, June 19, 2004


So, I thought this would be a funny pun if it were to appear in, say, a song or rap as a lyric:

"I ride with the porn star crowd, 'cause I belong with them."

I'll give you a hint... it has to do with the word 'belong'.

Kids, don't smoke crack.

P.S. If you like that line and want to use it, tough cookies. It's copyrighted, you pilfering nogoodniks.
P.P.S. I know that nobody in their right mind would want to use that line. Kids, really don't smoke crack.


Back from camping, once more. Although the timespan of the trip was condensed in comparison to our previous trip, it was no less engaging. And Once more, as habituality rears its well-practiced head within me, I'm winding down the weekend's celebration with beer pong at Rayshine's.

An interesting twist this time, I crawled off the mountain barely in time to make it straight to work (after a shower, don't worry); I didn't even give myself time to unpack... that's how dedicated I am to camping out as long as humanly possible without jeopardizing my employable status. Okay, I lied. I definitely jeopardize my employable status on a weekly basis. 'Tis worth it. End of Story.

Friday, June 18, 2004


Now, to completely change tone, I seem to have developed an unhealthy obsession with roughing it. This evening I'll be on my second camping trip in as many weekends. Not that living off the land and getting all the accompanying exercise is unhealthy, but the level of obsession definitely is (not to mention the requisite consumption of fatty foods and moonshine).

On the other hand, I'm certainly putting my gear through its paces, which is very good from an economical standpoint, since camping gear is as expensive as, say, skiing and golf equipment, for point of reference. If you don't know how expensive skiing and golf equipment are... well, they are as expensive as music equipment. Music equipment, for the record, is expensive; I could either own all my skiing, golfing, music, and camping gear, or I could own a different car for each day of the work week.

Nonetheless, not many things in life are as fun as either skiing, golfing, playing music, or camping, especially when partaking with your closest friends (who, interestingly, if you omit the second 's' from 'closest' in a freak typo moment, suddenly become 'closet friends', and they are a completely different category of people, though they can be pretty fun too).

I'll be back and civilized by Saturday... damn employment.

Thursday, June 17, 2004


I have the best friends in the world. Not that it's proper to have certain expectations of friends, but my friends thrive on exceeding even the most stringent expectations to which anyone could hold them. They do it for the joy of doing it.

One thing I'll say, with a hint of immodesty, is that I sure can pick 'em.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004


Moods take abrupt detours and other alterations of course as their course is run. Within the last half hour, I both watched a best friend's heart break, and spoke to an old love for the first time in years. I've never felt more discarded, disheartened, and uplifted than I do now.

...waiting for the rain to cleanse the soil of tattered souls...

I'll part with an aged song lyric from my past:

"Take a ride into the place where I see your secret inner light
Illuminate and drown the flood, and bathe me 'till I'm clean inside
Precious Delta show the way, and tangle up the darker side
If you follow me, I'll follow you, and we'll no longer hide."

This verse bears such a direct meaning to me at the moment, for reasons none but a few could ever recognize. Suffice it to say that it refers to a tumultuous period, but rest assured that the remainder of the song is optimistic in tone, and I'll be recollecting that part soon enough.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004


If I could be rid of one emotion, it would be envy, the source of so much acute pain, and of absolutely no joy. Envy is the one emotion from which no positive influence could ever be derived. Why do we have it, except to provide evidence of the weakness and fallibility of humankind?


The pressures of drudging through resume and cover letter writing, phone calls, and asking favors in order to find gainful employment are outweighed only by the constraints imposed by a painful lack of liquid assets. Thusly, I have spent many of my waking hours today reaching tenaciously, albeit futilely, toward the goal of getting a job interview.

Being a young homeowner has its perks, but the responsibilities are substantial, and numerous at that. Most of them are financial. It's impossible to be a confident person while living paycheck to paycheck, because there's always something hovering over you, threatening to coax your credit rating swiftly toward the negative domain with a deftly applied baseball bat. Need I say more? Getting a new job will add a degree of permanence to my current living situation, and maybe some new dress slacks, too.

Recently I heard the story of a kid my age, and fellow RIT student, who inherits 1.5 million dollars (American, not Canadian) each year. This poor guy has so much money he has to throw a barhopping party, complete with limousines and $40 bottles (8 times plural, mind you) every weekend. I hope that by the time I'm a rich man, I'll have learned that you can never have too much money to save. Now, as a counterpoint, I have no ability to suppose that this kid never gives to charity or other worthy causes, and it's just as likely that he does; but it's a fun game to wonder what you would do if it were you who had the cash to spend. I'd like to think that after the brand new Audi S4, I'd get right to work on helping out friends in need.

Monday, June 14, 2004


One of the best things a person can do to improve his state of wellness is take the time to retreat from the complexities of modern life. Another of the best things he can do for this same purpose is self-medicate, either by psychological or physiological means. Combine these techniques, and he will have concocted potentially the most effective means to better himself as a person and as a positively contributing member of society.

The above paragraph could be the most excessive justification for spending a weekend drinking in the woods that ever there was.

Somehow, just somehow, we managed to coordinate close to a dozen people spanning four metro areas in two states to rendezvous in the middle of absolutely nowhere (someplace on the periphery of the Allegheny National Forest... beautiful, mind you) in an attempt to throw an obscenely large party in honor of my roommate's 21st birthday. We succeeded.

Highlights of the weekend and inside jokes are as follows:

Impulse Grocering
Tent City
Log Tossing
Creek Keggin'
Venison Dogs
Moonshine 101
Miss Thomas
The Hippie Barrel
S'Mores Stick Fighting
Bowie Knife Madness
Explosive Wolves and Rocketing Bottles
Breakfast Beers
Bridge Tossing
Freelance Logging
Block Breaking
Moonshine 201
Hardboiled Lighter Fluid
Saturn Missile Attacks
Bacon, Steaks, and Automobiles
The Magic 8-Tent
Moonshine For Engineers
Pancakes and Breakfast Beer
Aquatic Impreza
Cuba Cheese

I'll put up pictures as soon as they're downloaded and developed.

And what did I do to recuperate as soon as I returned from the weekend's revelry? Beer pong at Rayshine's, of course. It has something to do with not being scheduled for work until Friday this week.

Friday, June 11, 2004


A horde of us are heading into the Pennsylvania woods for the weekend in celebration of Hippie Joe's 21st birthday. Good times will be had by all. I will report back on Monday.



My favorite quote of the night; I'd say it succinctly captures the spirit of this evening's revelry:

"Okay! That's it, no more licking breasts for me! I'm through!"

...quite a departure from the tone of my previous post...

...se la vie.

Ladies, you were a riot.

Thursday, June 10, 2004


The decision to publicize one's inner monologue comes with great difficulty... assuming one's mindset happens to match mine precisely. A profoundly campy/cheesy aura surrounded most every blog I visited throughout my tenure as an internetive-compulsive web surfer. Even worse, perhaps, were the blogs that affected my life directly in the tangible world; one private detail slipped yields hours of distress under the proper conditions.

But the more I thought about it, I realized that I was in control of the atmosphere here. If I stick roughly within the confines of the present-tense, I am relegated to speaking in a sort of instantaneous snapshot of my thoughts and feelings; this will eliminate the potential to use this medium as a means to dwell on anything disturbing. I will always post with the reader's entertainment in mind. Rather, I will, upon completing a post, sit back and say to myself, "is this something that people would avoid reading if they knew what I was about to say?" And if the answer is 'yes', then I will refrain unless I feel very strongly that people need to hear me vent.

Having said that, I think the best use of this webspace is as a mental home-gym: By virtue of existing, this blog will coach me to think out loud more frequently, so I may fill its pages. Too often do I sit around and stumble upon a piece of wisdom, or a funny idea, et cetera, and too often do I lack the means to record it. A thought without destination is doomed to slip into the crevasse of muddy recollection, and then into oblivion just beyond. Just having this space available gives me a feeling of security, that I can take something out of my head, leave it here, and never worry about losing it. I have a hunch that if the thoughts knew there was a comfy spot awaiting them, they would manifest freely and with ease. Knowing that I have space to fill, I will begin to create on a prolific scale all my musings, song lyrics, poetry, and who knows what else...

Innocent in its inception, this blog should be free of all the imprudent categories of personal information. I'm not going to sit here and type about people I don't like. I'll cover every emotion I've ever felt, but only in the hope that any interested reader will find my words allegorical; if I can convey a message through my retelling of personal experiences as opposed to just putting them outside my mind as a means to avoid the situation, then this blog will be a success for me. If at any point you laugh to yourself, or scratch your head and go "Wow, I never saw it like that", then this blog will be a success for you.

I hereby dedicate this post to Andrey Hardy, who unwittingly coerced me into creating a blog of my own when he put a link to his in his Instant Messenger profile.

And so continues the great chain of inspiration, and perhaps lack of discretion; I, too, must now join the ranks of those who will share the collective blame when the whole spot blows up; someday, there will be one too many blogs in the world....