wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up.

Damn, I'm sleepy. I think drinking coffee last night before bed was a bad idea -- longer to fall asleep with added restlessness.

I may be one of the few folks in my immediate life who follows drama involving The Source and related parties, but I have to comment that I find it utterly ridiculous that Benzino is planning on releasing a remixed version of his album. Who are you, N.E.R.D.? I don't care if you might even be a decent MC, if you obviously bought yourself such publicity and promotion, you will be avoided. I mean, sure everyone else does it, but they have the sense to hide it. You, my friend, were way too blatant. And David Mays, who are you kidding? Why are you trying to be the Suge Knight of magazine publishing?
{/music industry rant}

I got hooked up with some nice records from the pool, including a single from this cat Journalist who totally stole my idea to sample "On My Own". However, he went the road of interpolation, rather than actually sampling Patti. I guess that's cheaper, but I plan on having Michael McDonald on EVERY song I produce. Okay, maybe not every one, but wouldn't that be a smashing gimmick? To somehow include a sample of him in every composition.

Tonight I'm going to a show at the Metro -- this all-ages deal with a bunch of underground folks I've never heard of. But this cute guy I talked to at the AZone gig last week called me up and mentioned he was going (I gave him my card on the way out the door telling him to give me a call the next time he goes to a show), and I'm rather thrilled that he actually did it. I shall call him Sweet Punk Boy, which may be cursing him from making future appearances, but let's go with it. I might be able to sell a couple mixtapes tonight, and possibly pass my card around to some folks, including the club owners. Sure, it's the Metro/Smart Bar which is sort of like sending your first freelance article to Vanity Fair, but whatever -- might as well start getting some of those rejections out of the way. Plus, it will be nice to get out of the house and do something by myself. I intentionally didn't invite along Damon or anyone else -- not just because I might possibly want to flirt with the boy, but also because it's work-related and I want to come and go as I please without worry of my companion having an enjoyable time.

Today I'm wearing a pink shirt. Where is Myles when I need him?

Attn: BDSMers and interested parties in the Minneapolis area

You should go to this workshop this weekend and see Cleo as well as my fabulous friend Mistress Minax who will be co-facilitating. Go talk to her afterwards (trust me, you'll want to after seeing her) and tell her Ray sent ya!

Pornographic Records: Handle With Care

So I called up Sweet Punk Boy to thank him for calling me and let him know I'm coming to the show. I suddenly got really nervous right before calling him. Why? I don't know him at all. Oh wait, I just answered my own question. So I got his machine and was all thankful, and started to leave a message, than the mthafcker picked up the phone! And he was totally asleep too. So I'm not sure if he just picked up the phone just because, or if he made an exception because it was me. Cause he was super-sleepy and noncommunicative on the phone. We spoke for all of 90 seconds. I said something like "thanks for calling me....I think I'm gonna go to the show....I noticed there's a bunch of performers, I probably won't be there until later, after 6....", and he was like "oh, cause you have to be at work. that's cool." Which is strange since I didn't mention work or whatever. So then I blabbed for a minute when I get home from work and when I'm planning on going to Metro, and he was sorta like, "okay, well then I guess I'll just meet you there since I'm going to try and get there when it starts" and he had this strange tone like....where we planning on dinner first? I'm so confused. Maybe because I knew that objectively his call last night wasn't really much and wasn't trying to make it into a big deal -- not even a friend date. So I just said I'd look for him when I got there. A couple awkward pauses, and I was like, "okay, see you" and he was like "yeah, peace."

So, yeah, I'm a freak for just spending 3 minutes recreating a 90 second moment. I guess that means I think he's cute and want to hang out with him. Or at least talk to him more and find out if hanging out with him would be cool. We probably only talked for about 5 minutes total last week. I'd like to take this moment to compliment myself for the smooth move of giving out my number on my way out the door -- who knew it would actually work?

And now a quick survey for people who date boys. How forward should I be? And should I be explicitly forward (ex. "I'd like to date/fuck you") or flirtatiously forward (ex. "I like your hair" and stand very close to him)? Of course, this is assuming that I find him at the club, chat with him a bit, and manage to hold a semblance of a conversation while also maintaining that he's interested in me in some level (whether it's music or bed related).

It's funny because I have no idea how old he is, what he does, or even if he's gay/queer. Sometimes I even just feel immune to those sexual orientation boundaries. As if somehow can make myself fit into any category no matter how the person identifies. Like if he were to say "oh, I'm straight", would I just go "oh yeah, me too, I live with my girlfriend" and then continue attempts at seduction? Possibly. That seems to work in the movies.

And we all know what's good for porn plot devices is good enough for me.

"Who's Jill Scott?" "Would it help you remember her if I told you she was a lesbian?"

I'm starting to feel like I'm officially a journal-er, since I've maintained a pretty strong commitment to writing and putting things down on (virtua0l paper. This livejournal is a record for me -- I've never been able to maintain a paper journal for as long or with as much detail. And I feel better about my actual journaling because when I go back and read things from a year ago, I don't cringe and try to dissociate from my previous incarnation -- I actually even manage to crack myself up. This passage I wrote is taken out of context of a larger discussion, but it should still make some sense:

"Also, sometimes when I get overwhelmed by feelings of "no, I'm a guy! See me as a guy! treat me as a guy!", I stop myself and say, wait, no I'm not. I'm a queer boy. A transguy. I like that I'm different from bio-guys. I don't even necessarily wish I was born male, because although certain problems would be alleviated, new ones would occur. I think I can even say that given choice, I would choose to be a transguy. Of course, this is today, which is a good day, because I'm not contemplating hacking off my chest with a kitchen knife, or hiding under the covers from the entire world, or having an anxiety attack regarding the amount of money I'll have to spend to feel "natural". But I guess in the end, I'd rather run the risk of being a suicidal-prone transguy than a homicidal-prone bioguy. What can I say -- I'm a giver."

Two people have written about deadly ex's today, which is strange since I was actually thinking about my Near-Deadly Ex lately. She's not really deadly I suppose, though she would get mad at me for saying that because I'd be underestimating her. So maybe I'm just minimizing. But it started off as good thoughts of her really. kpscapes posted some article in a community that linked to the Stone Femme website, and I really liked reading the femme's perspective on being with a transguy. And I had this weird urge to send her the article, but I was afraid it would get misinterpreted. Like I was still trying to fix our problems or tell her what to do or something. When in reality, I just think of her when I think about butch/femme, because we talked a lot about it, read a lot about it, and lived it to a certain extent. And it wasn't a bad time for that period of my life, it just isn't who I am on a broader scale. But in the end, I didn't send the article and I won't send the article and I'll just think about how things were and how they are and how some things are better but some things are just....different.

I think you should post about my butt.

So the concert was sort of...a bust. Well, not totally. Though the venture ended up being slightly more expensive which was annoying, and I should have realized it's pretty impossible to try and "meet up" with a near stranger at a crowded concert. I probably couldn't have found a good friend, much less some dude I don't know. And the crowd was....ugh. I don't like to default to using catchy derisive lingo but the word "backpackers" just kept playing through my mind. I think what also frightened me is that I blended right in with them -- my grey work pants, fake adidas and grey hooded sweatshirt. At least I wasn't wearing a wool cap, I suppose. But the difference is, Daddy's money didn't buy my non-Fubu shirt or non-Adidas shoes. Where this crowd was very....scene-y. As in, scene-ster. And I'm just not cool enough for that. I mean, sure when I got dressed this morning, I knew what I looked like. But it was just a performance, no different than when I put on my catholic school boy shirt/tie/sweater vest, or my summer fag button-up shirt and khakis ensemble. I don't know.

Plus, I'm just not necessarily interested in live music. I'm a studio geek. I want to be a producer and composer and I don't necessarily need to be in the clubs where my stuff is being played. I guess it was a learning experience from that perspective, and I did enjoy watching this one guy, DJ Kamikaze. He made me want to come home and practice. Except my tables are too crappy to do what he was doing. Though I'm thinking if I had 3 or 4 more pieces of wax paper under some new slipmats, I might be able to trick them up into something workable.

I decided to leave the show early, because even though I was bitter about dropping 12 bucks for something I wasn't particularly into, staying another 2 hours wouldn't make that 12 dollars magically appear in my pocket. So I just wrote the night off and came home and read my Alice Coltrane interview in The Wire I had been saving up.

Wow. Wow. My ass was schooled hardcore by that article, and I"m one of the cult followers of Alice they referenced in the article. I also realized I was a moron for passing up an album I saw at Reckless on Tuesday night because it's fairly rare, so tomorrow I'm going to go back and find it (hopefully). Fck my lack of money. I'll skip several meals for this piece of vinyl. Besides, that's what Discover cards are for.

[I originally didn't want to post out of lazyness, but a certain person told me I should post anyway and talk about my desire to sink my teeth into her ass. I thought about posting a long philosophical post about her buttery backside just to spite and embarass her, but...I think this is enough for now