Addiction

Those who know me, know that I love listening to Rage Against the Machine; perhaps a little too much. But this is not about Rage Against the Machine, however, it does touch upon the bases of being addicted to something. I bought the first season of X-Files last friday and haven't stopped thinking about it or watching it. I have seen the series a while back, however, I recall very little, if anything, about it. I bought the first season for a cheap twenty dollar bill, and I am looking forward to buying the following seasons of the X-Files this week. I just love the entire focus of the series.

Top 33

My "favorites" after a week.

T1. Maria
T1. Bullet in the head
3. Guerilla Radio
4. Bulls on Parade
5. Vietnow
6. Know your Enemy
7. Wake up
8. Killing in the Name
9. New Millenium Homes
10. People of the Sun
11. Calm like a bomb
12. Born of a Broken man
13. Tire me
14. Take the power back
15. Bombtrack
16. Testify
17. Fistful of Steel
18. Down Rodeo
19. Born as ghosts
20. Voice of the voiceless
21. Year of tha boomerang
22. Township Rebellion
23. Snakecharmer
24. Sleep now in the fire
25. Roll Right
26. Freedom
27. Mic Check
28. War Within a breath
29. Ashes in the fall
30. Without a face
31. Settle for Nothing
32. Revolver
33. Wind Below

T1 - tied for first
*Ranks may change*

"Guerilla Warfare" by Ernesto Che Guevara

I couldn't help my self, I swear. I tried not to, I really did. It all started with my 90 minute break, which began at 10 in the morning. I walked for ten minutes when I suddenly stopped, asking myself "What am I going to do for 80 minutes?" I paused for several seconds eluding to a couple of conclusions. Hmv? Nah, no music that I need as of this minute. Walk some more? Meh, I wouldn't mind but not for another 80 minutes. Chapters? Well, I don't need to buy any books as of this minute, however, I can waste some time looking at them and being tempted to buy one. Oh, what the hell, Chapter's it is. After about ten minutes of walking to the metro, which took me to Chapters, I walked by hundreds of book shelves and several magazines. None that caught my eye. However, as I reached the second floor I stopped by the Political Science section, in search of no particular book. This is when I encountered books written by Noam Chomsky, so, knowing this curious mind I read a couple of pages from his book, in which the title slips by me. Not long after, I run into a known symbol, figure of the world; Ernesto "Che" Guevara. I see his book, "Guerilla Warfare," and swoop it immediately. I decided to read several pages from the book, as well as the back. This is when I realize that it is 14$, therefore, I decided to buy it. I guess I am a sucker for books, however, I love reading and learning about "Che" and how his actions effected the world, Cuba in particular.

Top 33 Rage Against the Machine songs

The following list is arranged from my favorite Rage Against the Machine song to my least favorite song. However, the last song does not mean I hate it, but that I prefer listening to the other ones at times. In general I love all Rage Against the Machine songs. I did not include the sons from their cover album "Renegades," since it is not their own songs.

1. Maria
2. Bullet in the head
3. Bulls on Parade
4. Guerila Radio
5. Know Your Enemy
6. Vietnow
7. Born of a Broken man
8. Wake up
9. New Millenium Homes
10. People of the Sun
11. Killing in the Name
12. Calm like a bomb
13. Tire me
14. Take the power back
15. Testify
16. Fistful of Steel
17. Bombtrack
18. Down Rodeo
19. Born as ghosts
20. Voice of the voiceless
21. Year of tha boomerang
22. Township Rebellion
23. Snakecharmer
24. Sleep now in the fire
25. Freedom
26. Mic Check
27. Roll Right
28. War Within a breath
29. Ashes in the fall
30. Without a face
31. Settle for Nothing
32. Revolver
33. Wind Below

*Ranks may change*

Friday: miserable weather and "The Motorcyle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey."

Today was a short day for me considering that I only had one class, which ended at 10am. Thunder and rain filled the entire day. I don't mind the rain, in fact, I like it when it rains occasionally. However, I dislike the rain when I am carrying something along with a cheap and nearly broken umbrella. Fortunately, I did not have to use the umbrella all that much.

Since last Saturday, I believe (too lazy too check right now), I posted about the book "The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey," which I have progressed quite a bit. I haven't finished the book, if that is what you are wondering. I have been reading carefully and slowly, so too absorb every passage and its importance. There hasn't been a severe change in Ernesto Guevara's character or what he has been through. So far, Ernesto and his friend Alberto have been treated with white gloves due to their profession and the luck of meeting generous people throughout Chile.

Day damn one

Today was the first day back to college -my second and final year in Liberal Arts. I guess I should talk about the good things before hammering away at the bad things. God news first, bad news later, or bad news first and good news later, same thing just different mentally (depending on how you look at things). I entered the metro with my computer bag (insert laugh), however, I was not using it to transport my computer, at least not this week. The computer bag served the purpose to carry light objects, as in paper, schedule and "The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey." I also decided to attach four patches to the front of the bag. These patches were; "Rage Against the machine," with the band members in silhouettes (Zack de La Rocha in red) and the background in red, "Bad Religion," the "red star" and "Che with the red star." I also met my friends during class and on my way home. It turned out to be long and exhausting. I came home to my room and slept for two hours.
Now for the bad things. So many Mohawks, so many of them bad. I'm getting my Mohawk back this weekend should everything go as planned. But, seriously, the amount of people I saw today with Mohawks made me want to vomit. Jesus! They were horribly structured. One had the Mohawk slowly crashing towards the top of the head, another had the Mohawk wide as the Mississippi river and another made it seem, just, wrong. Also, even though I met my friends once again, which was nice, I also met the annoying people of my program. With every good there is a bad.
Nonetheless, I am still enjoying reading about Che and hoping to learn more about him soon. Tomorrow should be an intro to hell, if anything else. I start at 11:30 and finish at 4 without any breaks. This means three classes in a row.
I shall write more about "The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey" on Friday.

The Motorcycle Diaries; Notes on a Latin American Journey

On June 14, 1928 a heroic figure was born. He was given the name Ernesto Guevara, however, he would late be known - by the mid 1950s- as "Che," a term used to call people from Argentina. Before he ventured off to South America -traveling throughout Chile, Bovilia, Lima, Bogota and so much more- he studied to become a doctor, while working as an engineer. Throughout his adventure to South America, with his friend Alberto Granado, Che discovered the misery planted on thousands of faces.

"These people who watch us walk through the streets of the town are a defeated race. Their stares are tame, almost fearful, and completely indifferent to the outside world. Some give the impression they go on living only because it's a habit they cannot shake (Guevara, p.24).

I have only begun reading this fascinating diary written by Ernesto Guevara himself. I have heard of this man long ago, but never obtained the motivation to read about him. In fact, I did not know much about him until I began listening to Rage Against the Machine. By listening to Rage Against the Machine I learned many things, such as the Zapatas and at the same time being informed about Ernesto "Che" Guevara. I bought this diary today and began reading it immediately. Even though I still have to read "Othello," in which I am half way through, my attention was focused on "Che."

I Shall post my thoughts about what I have read in "Che's" diary everyday. It is a short diary, some 180 pages, therefore, once I am finished I will read about the Zapatas and the Mexican revolution.


Guevara, Ernesto. The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey. Ocean Press; New York, 2004.

No light, all darkness

Pushed through the wall,
Shades of Grey surround me.

Everything around me disappears,
Everyone digging their graves,
Tombstones layed down, names engraved,
In this century, the office runs the people,
In history, destruction follows,
Too afraid, but too angry inside,
We slave to make a buck,
While the Government takes the 2:1 ratio,
Another day dying,
Looking ahead, not far from it,
The graves dug, now empty,
How long until we fill em'?

Pushed through the wall,
Shades of Grey surround me.

Squeezing us, until we feel useless,
Hiding all the facts,
Telling us all the lies,
Proclaiming what we saw is our own imagination,
You are our nightmare,
You are the disease,
We must stand for what's right,
We must decide who we are,
Fuck their laws, their approval for war,
Fuck their taxes, the frauds, the lies,
Fuck the office, the one behind the desk,
What's a flag? What does it really represent/
Fuck what they tell me to do,
Fuck what they tell you to do,
We are the cure to this disease.

Pushed through the wall,
Shades of Grey surround us.

No more taken advantage of,
No more bowing down to them,
No more giving in to their demands,
We are the cure.

The Rage

YEAH!!! Three Rage albums, one more to go. I now own "Rage Against the Machine (self-titled album)," "The Battle for Los Angeles," and their "Live at the Grand Olympic Auditorium." Just like any other band, when you listen to a live album, you adapt the feeling as if your at the concert. However, unlike any other bands, at least not to me, Rage Against the Machine, adds a stronger and prophetic sound to their songs. They play with the audience by playing music, which is unknown to the Rage fans, to get them guessing. Then they hit you with that fist gripping opening rhythm of "Bulls on Parade," "Freedom" and the list goes on.

What else is new? I'm still writing lyrics if that means anything to you. For the first two years I've been writing about love and my views on the world. However, my work was mostly about love. Being introduced to newer bands and reading more, my craving for topics to write about took a turn. I've left love behind, but not abandoned, and continued writing about society and how it effects us all. Rage Against the Machine has helped me a lot. Why do I love Rage Against the Machine? Well, that is simple. We both feel the same about politics, society and the world.

I also bought a new book by Ayn Rand called "We the Living." It revolves around what I enjoy reading about. If you don't know, then perhaps you haven't read the second paragraph of this post or you haven't read anything else. Anyways, to know about the book just google it.

Save Me

Save me from all of my mistakes,
Save me,
Let me forget the sins I've committed.

A world in honor of hell awaits me,
I'll be used to it;
I've been already living in it,
A light flashes before me,
The sun burning my soul,
No time to waste,
Waiting for the rain to pour on me,
Relinquish these sins,
A dark future haunted by the dark past,
A world in honor of hell awaits me.

Save me,
Save me from all of my mistakes,
Save me,
Let me forget the sins I've committed.

The earthquake shakes these fears,
Stirs the thoughts of hatred and love,
Before I leave let me forget these past few years,
Let alone, let me forget the wrong I've done,
A city filled with sin,
My body filled with guilt;
All those things I've said,
And all those things I didn't,
Look through this heart,
Look through this disguise,
Save me now, but I accept my faith.

Save me,
Save me from all of my mistakes,
Save me,
Let me forget the sins I've committed.

Blank: chapter one

Sweat trickling down my cheek like the warm gravy smothered over a soft, but crispy Kentucky Fried Chicken. The sun flashing in my face, blinding my vision like fog creeping towards me in the morning. Thick and heavy. The heat blistering my skin and leaving burnt scars throughout my body. Its power was noticed and taken seriously. Walking became painful, but standing still was suicide. Mind rattling negatively. Where do I run? Where can I hide? Looking for shade became useless. The sun covered her track - leaving no gaps. Sweat pouring as the mind engulfed insane ideas, which had never crossed ones mind before. The sun still blazing in my face. There was no escape. No cure. "Water. Where the fuck is the water?" Insufficient time to think without getting headaches and, several times, the need to vomit. Breathing became harsh. Drinking any beverages was out of the question. Razor blades filled the void in my throat, covering all bases. I was in hell. My body was on fire - it had to be! I was surrounded by the orange-reddish flames engulfing my body. No yelling. No pain. All I felt was the heat crawling through my skin. The blood circulating, heart pumping, and at times -rarely, but when it occurs, their is excruciating pain - large lumps of chewed food passing through tiny tubes towards my intestine. The pain was alive. I know it, but I did not feel it at all times. I made my way past the pens, past the parking lot of the torn down home guarded by iron bars. There was no shelter. None whatsoever. No trees to hide below. No beach or pool to sink myself into. Nothing. I stood between the sun and the God-forsaken desert.
I could not remember where I was. In fact, I did not know who I was. My mind was blank. I could only remember the past ten horrible minutes, when I awoke lying on the rubbled sand as my own sweat trickled down my face. Stripped, no shirt. Shorts but no underwear. It was only then that I noticed my feet. Bloodied. Parts of the deep wounds below my shin were covered with sand. The golden sand turned black and the blood turned to crust - sticking to my skin. I was dirty. Dirty as any man could ever be. Compare me to a dog, who spent half an hour rolling in garbage - pure garbage. I was roasting in the sun, and all I could think about was the way I looked. Forget the water. Forget food. My mind was elsewhere and so was my body.
The black grease, or so it seemed, covered a good portion of my right leg, top to bottom. I could not bare to touch it or even taste it. I did not want to know how it got there, but how to take it off.
"What the fuck?!" I said to myself looking at my dirty-old legs. Wrinkly and withered.
"Why am I whispering?!" I yelled out loud, hoping for someone - anyone - to hear me and, hopefully, feel the pain I was in.
"Should I run? But where you damn fool?" I told myself, this time I spoke aloud, "Where? Yeah. This useless rubbish shit." I tossed my right shoe to the sand in front of my. The grease had expanded its territory. The greases stained my leg, as well as three quarters of the damn shoe. I did not know what I was doing. What is the use? My mind baffling elsewhere, while my body was covered in fear and toxic.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my hand, not knowing whether my hand was filled with grease. Who gives a damn? I am already a dirty fool who has lost memory. While the sun blazed upon my face, and my hand wiping the sweat off my forehead, I paused. I felt the sting in my left leg, probably due to the sand in my wounds. Who cares? I had found something. I don't know what it was, but it was something, alright. Right? I was losing it. No! I had already lost it. What was it? A mirage? What mirage? What's a mirage? This long shaped brown colored thing appeared from nowhere.
"Fuck it! I'm coming for ya." I said firmly aloud.

--------

Take two: "Mad" Mike Please!!??!

I'm still planning on talking about the Boston Bruins, as I mentioned in my previous post. The most shocking news -well, not that shocking considering the fans anger towards him- in Boston was the firing of coach Dave Lewis. Dave Lewis signed last season as head coach to a multi year deal. Dave Lewis hired assistant coaches, Dave Houda and talented Marc Habshied. However, nothing seemed to work throughout the season. What was bad became worse and anything that was a sign of something bright rapidly faded. Under head coach Dave Lewis the Bruins were 35-41-6. This 76 point season placed them 13th out of 15, in which the Bruins were awarded 8th overall pick. This is the second season in a row that the Bruins hold a top 10 pick. Whereas some may believe that choosing in the top 10 guarantees a star player or at least a good player, others would rather go far into the playoffs and draft between 25-30. I'm alongside the "others" for simple reasons. I want to see the Bruins win and keep winning. I hate cheering for the laughing stock of the league, however, they are my favorite team since I bleed gold and black. Ever since the Bruins last Stanley cup in 72,' the Bruins have not been able to establish a strong enough structured team to win the cup. In the late 80s we were robbed twice by the Oilers in the Stanley cup finals. However, the Oilers had Gretzky and due to poor scouting, the Bruins had given up on Bill Ranford, who was a key Oiler player.
Nonetheless, the Bruins hadn't established a strong team like they once were in the 70s. Crazy "Mad" Mike Milbury had brought a lot of energy to the team in the early 90s bringing the Bruins close to the Stanley cup finals. However, they feel short to the Penguins due to Ulf Samuelson's cheap and dirty knee to knee on Cam Neely, arguably the best player after Gretzky. As much as I'd love to rant about Ulf Samuelson with tons of swearing and cursing, this post is about the Bruins coaching. Since the conference finals against Pittsburg, Boston hasn't been able to reach the finals.
Last Friday (June 15), Bruins general manager announced that Dave Lewis and Marc Habshied were fired, however, reassigned within the team. So far I have not liked what Peter Chiarelli, Bruins genereal manager, has done for the Bruins. He traded a good young player name Brad boyes for a #6-7 defenceman, Dennis Wideman. He fired Mike Sullivan, previous coach, instead of giving Sully one last shot with a new team. After his first year with the Bruins he fires another coach; Dave Lewis. Sound familiar??
As much as I did not like Dave Lewis' decisions in the game, I still think he should have been given one last chance. At least 20 games to evalutate Dave Lewis and thus make a decision. Apparently Claude Julien is the new coach. However, it is not confirmed and truthfully, I hope he is not the coach of the Bruins. The last thing fans need is to see is Dave Lewis lost twin brother behind the Bruins bench.
Bottom line, the Bruins need a coach who's aggressive, motivates, brings energy and challenges his players........Mike Milbury comes to mind.

Take one: Bruins

Today until the end of August I will periodically post my short, but inteligent opinion on the decisions made by the Boston Bruins. In case you do not know who the Boston Bruins are, you should slap yourself. Just kidding. They are an NHL team, who were collaborated as the original six teams long ago.

Andrew Alberts (3rd year Defenceman): Re-signs 2 years/ 2.5 million

I am an Andrew Alberts fan, and I am happy that PC re-signed him, however, the salary bothers me. Alberts is a good defenceman who will become an even better defenceman through experience like many players. However, raising his salary from 661,300$ to 1.1 and 1.4 millions in the next two years respectively provides Bruins fans to question Peter Chiarelli's signings. I believe Alberts would have agreed to a 900,000 a year for two years, or 1.9-2 million / 2 years.
This signing follows another intriguing question, how much do you pay to keep Brandon Bochenski. Obviously, Bochy (as I like to call him) is not a number one line player and will not receive number one line salary. However, Bochy may ask between 1.3-1.8 million per season. I believe that is too much for a player that had a good half a season. What says that he will provide the same numbers the following season? You must remember that when Bochy came to Boston, he joined a young, open team that pretty much knew they weren't making the playoffs. Nonetheless, it will be quite interesting watching Chiarelli operating the Bruins this off season.

Sergei Samsonov: (Forward) Signed with Montreal last season 2 years/ 7 million, but may be bought out before his final year of the contract.

I for one always liked Sergei Samsonov. It is unfortunately that he signed with the habs and played with disgruntled center/wing Alexei Kovolev. He had a poor season, however, what do you expect from a player who hardly sees power play minutes, never played on the first line with Koivu -if he did it was once or twice for insufficient amount of time - and Sergei did not get the amount of ice time he was getting in Boston. Obviously, a team and its fans expect a lot from a player who is getting a scorers based salary. However, who has performed better playing with Alexei Kovolev, that is what I would like to know. In case you have forgotten, Tomas Plekanec was on fire once Guy Carboneau placed him on another line. Anyways, back to the topic. Sergei Samsonov needs to play with better players. Alexei Kovolev is a useless pole on skates who barely moves. If he is cut, the Bruins would have to pay in the 1-1.9 million dollar range, which is quite a steal. Sergei always played best against the Habs, whether it was from scoring goals, assisting on goals or playing an overal strong game. If he were to sign with the Bruins, imagine the fire he would get playing the habs? I understand that we wouldn't want him to only play strong against the habs, but just by knowing that he will play them eighth times a year should already pump him up.
Therefore, I would sign Sergei Samsonov if he were bought out. Nonetheless, it would depend on the difference from his contract and the amount payed to buy him off. He would had tremendous speed to the Savard-Murray line as well as the Bergeron-Sturm line. However, I'd rather see him play on the Bergeron-Sturm line.

More to come....

Quiet, quiet, quiet....Where the Fuck did the hitting go?

And what is happening to the Ottawa Senators? Ottawa were outshot 12-7 in the first and 14-4 in the second. The second period has been by far the worst period in the series. The hitting vanished and every scoring chance belonged to Anaheim. Ottawa was terrible, absolutely terrible in this period. Words cannot describe the poor plays by Ottawa. Giveaways on top of giveaway, lack of speed and attitude. The Senators seem hopeless on the ice. Only one player has shown up for the Ottawa Senators, and that is their goaltender Ray Emery. He is having an unbelievable game with 26 saves. Emery has been giving Ottawa hope to win, in which they do not deserve.
This blog post is quite short because the period has been all but interesting and electrifying. The best hit that came out of the period -perhaps the best hit of the game - is Volchenkov's body check (aka, the sandwich hit) on Teemu Selanne. That is about it. Poor period for the Senators - and in the series.

More hitz, more hitz and more hitz.....

The first period of the Stanley cup finals between Ottawa Senators and Anaheim Ducks has come to an end. It has been an intensive and electrifying, if I may add, period to begin game two out of a possible seven game series. In case you do not know, I am a Boston Bruins fan, however, I am also a Ottawa Senators fan -pretty damn close to my second favorite team, the Calgary Flames. I have followed Ray Emery, the Senator's goaltender, ever since he stepped on the NHL rink. I have payed close attention to his game and his development, thus I am a Ray Emery fan. Huge fan. I will not hide my disgust about the day that Ottawa signed Martin Gerber - for about 3+ million a year (how many years? I am uncertain). I was distraught because I believed that Ray Emery was Ottawa's true number one goaltender after proving his game throughout last year's [2006] playoffs. He was brilliant, however, he lacked experience. Nonetheless, he has been nothing but steady and, once again, brilliant this season and in these playoffs.
The first period of the second game this series began with a blitzkrieg of pucks fired towards Ray Emery. Fortunately, he saved every one of them (12 saves). Emery splashed and sprawled all over his crease to prevent the Ducks from scoring. However, Emery was lucky that the Ducks hit approximately four posts during their outburst in the period. There were childish penalties taken by both team - one that could have been crucial for Anaheim, when Scott Thornton and Chris Pronger were called to the penalty box, giving the Senators a much needed 5 on 3 power play aka: PP). This 5 on 3 power play left me jaw-dropped and speechless. The amount of scoring chances by the Senators were impossible to count (ok! maybe it was countable, but who's counting? WHO!?). Giguere, who hasn't been active until this PP (with eight minutes left in the period), pulled some rabbits out of his ass, yet there was no surprise seeing them happen. I cannot describe the scoring chances the Senators had within this power PP without shedding some tears. Mike Comrie missing an empty net. Alfredsson saved point blank. Heatley robbed with Giguere five feet away from the net. And it goes on and on.
As the countdown is taking place, the second period will begin. One other thing to add, besides the countless hits taken throughout the period (no surprise!), Ottawa's first line Heatley-Spezza-Alfredsson has been too quiet. Way too quiet.

Minutes to Midnight

Linkin Park's new album, which has caused some ongoing mixed opinion by the fans. They released a successful album, Hybrid Theory, in 2000, with hits such as; One Step Closer, Crawling and In the End. This album combined anger and head-bobbing rhythm. Linkin Park immediately became a fan favorite - not as much as my favorite band, Rage Against the Machine. Nonetheless, Linkin Park became recognized throughout music industries as a fast pumping and thumping, heart-beating band. A generation filled with angst and a voice, heard through bands, such as Linkin Park. We all got our own opinion, right? Obviously, Linkin Park is not for every -as well as any other bands in the world. I am not trying to convert anyone to Linkin Park or soften their image. All I'm trying to establish is my respect and opinion for them. Nonetheless, I am not saying that they are an awesome band and that everyone should like them, either.
Their second album, Meteora, was a similar hit; however, not as successful as Hybrid Theory.
For about fourteen months Linkin Park worked on their new album, which came out a couple of weeks ago. They decided to try something new -in this case, change their rhythm but keep the same style. Their new album, Minutes to Midnight, delivered quite a change to fans. I have never been a real fan of Linkin Park, but I will admit that some of their songs have impressed me. I enjoyed; Crawling, Runaway, Faint and Lying from you. However, I could not consider myself a real fan. I decided to buy the new album, taking a chance on them without looking into the album. I started to listen to the new album -keep in mind that I did not read any reviews pertaining to the new album. As I listened to the second track, Given up, -the first track was a preload (just music, no words)- until the last minute of the album, I indeed felt and heard a different Linkin Park.
What do I mean by a different Linkin Park? For instance, throughout the first and second album there were loads of sounds with Chester (lead singer) screaming at the top of his lungs. There were a lot of angry tempo and an angry voice behind the mic. In the new album, except for "No More Sorrow" and "Given up," Linkin Park has established a smoother tone and vocals to their songs. Chester has shown that he cannot only scream the music, but he can actually sing it at any tempo. He showed his soft side in the song -my favorite from the new album- "Shadow of the Sun" and "Leave out all the rest." Many fans were left disappointed from listening to Minutes to Midnight because it did not enchant the anger and harsh rhythm as it did in the previous two albums; however, they are wrong. Dead wrong. The entire album is not a soft and totally changed Linkin Park. Hell no! Songs such as "No More Sorrow" and "Given Up," bring the high-electrifying exuberant anger/power rap rhythm that fans love to hear.
After listening to the entire album, I, a non-real-Linkin-Park-fan, have developed respect for the group. I enjoy listening to their new album at any given time; however, they are not chosen over Rage Against the Machine when I need music to relax me or motivate me. Nonetheless, Minutes to Midnight does motivate me, but not as much as Rage Against the Machine.

Chasing Shadows

Take it for what it's worth. This is mainly freelance........yup....


----------
Beautiful attraction, strong distraction,
The mind curling up inside,
The main problems reside
In your soul smothered in sins,
A question of faith,
A question unanswered,
You'll never be the one you'll beg to be,
Enough of these sad tales,
And your ghastly expressions,
Covered in blood,
The riches own, the poor beg to live,
Now I wake up
Chasing the same goddamn thing
Over and over again,
One last time, why not?

Chasing shadows,
Along each wall,
One by one with every pull,
My strength falls, while I,
Chase shadows.

Lost in the moment,
Lost in the music, which spins me around,
Where have you been?
I, Smothered in vain,
Long behold what I wanted is finally there,
A chance given,
Hit hard in the face,
The needle points straight down
Towards me,
I'm chasing you, the shadows,
Blistering my view,
Once again, I want you, I want it all,
But all I got was the shame spread inside me
Like a virus, cleared until its killed,
Chasing, what's not there.

Chasing shadows,
Where have I been?
Looking past my shoulder,
Your never there,
Chasing shadows.

What have I done,
To deserve what I got,
A lot of bad, a lot of good,
Nonetheless, the guilt covers myself,
You twist and turn me the way you want,
A fiction, a long lasting nightmare,
What I need is who you are,
But who you are is quite mysterious,
A trigger, a life long sentence of where I am,
A light at the end,
But who am I fooling?
It's too far away.

Chasing shadows,
Where have I been?
Looking past my shoulder,
Your never there,
Chasing shadows,
Once again, once again

Weakened and Battered

For the past couple of days I've been over my head, cramming every single possible word that exists. I've been occupied with studying for exams such as; philosophy, French renaissance and logic (big whoop!). If that wasn't enough, I had to start writing an English essay on two poems, which was two three days from when I started. For about thirty minutes I had debated the poems in which I would decipher. I mean, how hard can that be? Right? Oh God, the pain! I chose a 10 line poem called "To Lindsay," written by Allen Ginsberg. It was riveting and compressed the inner soul. The poem focused on the speaker's grief, and slowly made its way to the suspenseful suicide, dropping the shadow to the floor. Riveting I say because I can. The clock ticking louder and faster as I typed, compressing my ideas unaware of the time. Tick tock, tick tock, my ideas bursting in mid-air. Day becomes night, the warm air turns cold and now my eyes begin to close. I worked endlessly. Alright, so I took a couple of breaks, big deal. It came to a point where I couldn't differentiate between the meaning of the "harsh" and "soft" sounds. What the fucks up with that?!
For about an hour I put it away, hoping to never see it again, but who am I kidding? The essay was worth 20%, it wasn't some freelance work or something. It was an addicting, eating my guts, pulling me and forcing me to give in. I couldn't bear to look away and do something else, knowing that it wasn't done or even close of being worthy. I sat down, looked at the screen. Document opened for the second time filled with words, hundreds, maybe thousands. Who knows? Who cares? I was determined to finish it. Fist pumped. Actually both of them were. I was eager to start typing, aggressive to the point that my fingers would start to hurt. However, all I was doing was type "Finish this Shit" several times. My eyelids slowly began to shut. NO! I had to stay awake. "Get." "WATER." "NOW!!" Too late. Before I could move my fragile legs, I fell on my side, eyes close and fast asleep. I had awaken two hours later.

Must.
Keep.
Writing.
Do.
Not.
Lose.
Focus.

sincerely, Claudio.

Fingers and mind went back to work. Two hours later, one poem was done. Damn Right! Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I had realized that I had to decipher another poem. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" My brain felt drained and useless from thinking too much. How can that be possible? But it is, it is. Even word seemed the same. Every meaning felt awkward. Every line seemed to be the same -word for word- as the previous line. I had too sleep, I just had too.

Go To Sleep. Yeah, at 6pm. Sounds reasonable.

Louder please

Music roaring in the background, vibing through your skin. Heads bobing up and down, now side to side at the tone of Rage. Hand gestures slicing downwards, back and forth, back and forth. Music stops, now the bodies dead. Track two, beat begins to shake, the sound of the drums begin to roll, the floor vibrates and now the crowd begins to jump. JUMP! Listen to the Bulls on Parade. The pen shakes, now I become motivated, more then ever. The words climb atop my mind once again as I join the band and sing.
That was six days ago, i haven't heard them until today. I was hoping to let go of them, at least until my final exam next tuesday, but no, my cousin talked me into hearing them again. I was writing for about four hours today. My mind worked up, my brain jamned and now my thouhts all over the place. I needed some inspiration to say the least. I did not want to break my vow, but how could I keep it? Then again, I needed some motivation, some inspiration.....some Rage! I know several people, who I will not mention their name, disagree with my passion for Rage, but, nonetheless, they respect me for who I am, therefore, I respect them for respecting me. However, how can you hate a band without listening to them? I mean, if you have listened to them once, twice and did not like them, then that is understandable, but to say you've never heard them and do not look foward to do so. Perhaps it is the name of the band, Rage Against the Machine. Perhaps they think the band is some heavy metal, junk, unappreciated group of people who hate the world. Maybe. Listen to them, give them a try at least. They do write lyrics with meaning. There is something there. Anyways, who am I kidding, no one understands.
I assume there are a number of things that motivate people, and there should be. Perhaps it is the girl next door as she waves hello to you, perhaps the cross and figure of Jesus in your room, perhaps family, perhaps the thought of cheap wine and champagne, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Motivation comes in different sizes. Music is my choice. However, not all types of music. I cannot listen to depressive music or heavy metal music, it is just not for me. I enjoy listening to Rage Against the Machine, New Foudn Glory, Bruce Springsteen, Radiohead, Linkin Park, Guns n' Roses, AC/DC, The Strokes, Buck 65.......and the list goes on. However, one band that keeps motivating me and relaxing me at all times is Rage Against the Machine.

Summer plans.....ummm

It is that time of year, when the sun shines and school is over. Soon. Very soon. I will not bore you with detail for every intention I wish to fullfill. There will not be pages and pages of mind boggling descriptive analyses on every God forsaken activity. Nonetheless, you should, and I hope, have some visual aspect of them. The main goal this summer is getting into shape. Every summer I found ways to keep myself active and more, let's say, outgoing. When winter strolls along I become more indequate and lazy, so to speak. I find everything as gloomy and weary as the dark clouds shading earth on this dreadful season. However, I do acknowledge that there are also great things about winter, but who really wants to know? Anyone? I thought so. Now, back to my summer plans. Fitness is important as every bone and flesh in our bodies. In my early high school years I was a lazy asshole, who couldn't bother with jogging or walking long stretches. However, it all changed the summer before secondary 3. I was not doing very well in the first term Gym class, in which we were tested on endurace (26 laps or so). I kept getting in the low 70s, so that summer I began to change things around. I jogged and walked quite often, and of course I drank lots of water. Long story short, I got 87 on the endurance exam. This motivated me to do better and too stay in shape. Unfortunately, for some reason I only got into it when summer came along, and still do.
I am 5 foot 11-6 feet and I weigh between 175-185 (somewhere there, look closely). My goal is to lose 15 pounds this summer, yes 15 EFFING pounds. Canada, here I come. A summer of jogging and walking along the beach and around the neighbourhood. Now, what else do I want to do this summer besides exercise? Play sports, swim, bike, just to name a few. I'm sure you can use your imagination.
I usually procrastinate, at least I do so when it comes to work this semester, but this is unlikely going to happen come this summer. I am so determined to lose the 15 pounds, that I will buy you (those that I know) 5 drinks at the bar or something equivalent to fifty dollars if I fail to do so. How can this be done? Simple. We'll measure my weight before summer begins, and then we will measure my weight once school begins (late August).