Mat Writes Again!

This is Mat's latest journal post. The highlight has to be an "M&M" boozing and chainsmoking.

Date: 11.02.04
Climate: lunar eclipse
xbox: Halo II (beta) French bootleg
Reading: vanderbilt genes; augusten burroughs
Watching: ‘photographing fairies’
Listening to: hungry like the wolf, tegan and sarah, my chemical romance
Eating: swiss cheese sandwiches, ritalin
Drinking: water
we’re still steeped in the songwriting routine… -and not to play up the cliché image of the disheveled artist or anything, but its become apparent to everyone that my personal hygiene can sometimes take a back seat to the music during this phase. ok, I smell like a fucking bass, but I’m happy with our progress. We have a handful of finished pieces of which we are very proud, (tentative titles are: Black Poison Blood, This is the Collapse, Her Lovesong, and Statues Without Eyes) and a harddrive full of raw material. -but this deadline has me stressed. I’ve been having vivid nightmares pretty consistently. Some recur, like the ones where I’m chased by unmanned predator drones or where I’m drowned in a harbor at night. Outside the studio, events are creating an interesting backdrop. in the past couple weeks we’ve witnessed a lunar eclipse, presidential election, change of season, and Holloween. (jonny dressed like an M&M with white gloves and boots with his little head poking out of the middle, smoking and drinking)

We played a short set opening for The Donnas at a private Rolling Stone party at Park West .. which was cool. Earlier that night dan and greg and I challenged Finger Eleven to a Halo match on their tour bus. They were very cool guys, and gracious hosts, but one cannot change one’s destiny, and their destiny was to be dominated mercilessly by us.
ok. Back to the drudgery. xo

Ps: To describe my building as having ‘24hour security’ may be false advertising. Every night I come home the main door is locked, and the uniformed man on the other side of the glass is fast asleep at the controls, deep REM, chin buried in his chest. I try to cut him a break, ‘cos he’s gotta be pushing 90yrs old. I mean, awake, asleep, no big difference, right? -but what bothers me most is that for all his years, he has such a limited vocabulary. this guy is taking small talk down to the next level. The first several times I passed his desk, I started to notice a pattern. all he ever says is: “alright... alright, alright.” So now, whenever our paths cross I just say “alright, alright” FIRST, before he has time to open his mouth, and it cancels his out and his brain misfires. he just blinks, drools and looks at me all hurt and bewildered like he just saw something really cruel happen... like he’s thinking: hey, that’s MY line. Why you gotta take my line like that? Now I got nothing. I got nothing…. I sleep like a baby knowing that this genius is standing guard.

Pps: Can’t wait for the time when we all have bar codes implanted in our wrists. I hate fumbling for dirty money and paying for everything in coins.
Posted by Mat at 10:44 AM