beautiful, funny, sad & true

The more I think about all of this, the angrier I get.

Here’s what my anonymous stalker wrote, the first time he wrote to me:

I swear to god, dude. You should have an MP3 of Depeche Mode’s “Somebody” playing on a loop in the background whenever someone visits your blog. Clearly, that’s the theme song to your life. In other words: You’re pathetic.

Okay, fine, that’s nice. I deleted that and didn’t think twice about it. He responded by re-posting the same thing right away, and I deleted it again. He posted it a third time, apparently to make sure I wouldn’t miss his point, with a couple of new paragraphs added:

You might believe that your “sensitive lonely whiner” routine will get you laid by women who feel sorry for you, but it won’t. Instead, it pretty much guarantees that you will spend the rest of your life alone. “I want someone to spoon with at night.” *wretch*

Since then, it hasn’t gotten any better. He spent the entire weekend reading through as much of my blog as possible, making snide comments everywhere he went–you can see most of them for yourself (although I did delete some because they’re not worth repeating)–and he even went so far as to create a Blogger profile impersonating mine, which at my request he did take down, although he threatened to put it back up if I continued to moderate my comments. Well, whatever. It’s my blog, so we’re going to play by my rules.

I hope that he’s a teenage kid or something; if he is, I can forgive this type of behavior. If he’s an adult who clearly should know better, then I find this utterly reprehensible. (Although he does know that Depeche Mode song–I do not–so that makes me think he’s an adult, quite possibly near my own age.) All this being said, here are the rules for this blog.

* * * *

1) I’m now moderating all comments. I hate to do it, but it’s become necessary.

2) If someone wants to post something–positive or negative–I’m going to read it and THEN decide what to do with it. I am fair. If I feel that a negative comment has value, even if I don’t like it, I’ll usually approve it. If I feel that it’s just a shitty little ad hominem attack against me, then it ain’t gonna make the cut.

3) As the name implies, this blog is about beauty, humor, occasional melancholy, and above all, honesty. Those are my favorite characteristics in people, in stories, in music, in art, in life…in everything. These are the things that this blog was based upon. People who are generally hostile to these concepts will not enjoy BFS&T very much. Heck, even people who espouse these concepts may not enjoy BFS&T very much. And y’know what? I’m okay with that.

4) I don’t write about politics or current events. I don’t write about religion or ethics. I usually don’t write about economic or sexual or social or racial issues, but sometimes I do. It’s not that I don’t care about these things–on the contrary–it’s just that there are thousands of people who can do that much more eloquently than I ever will, and I choose to read them instead. What I do write about is life, and the struggles and successes I and the people I care about face and deal with along the way. And, of course, a little bit of inspiration for good measure. Oh yeah, and I guess I do write about guitars and cellos and stuff a lot too.

5) It is hereby the policy of this blog not to negotiate with terrorists.

* * * *

The problem, as I see it, is that this person and I are very similar; so much so as to completely repel each other. (Ever see the movie “I Heart Huckabees”?) His issues are very likely the same as my own, or maybe it’s that we’re two sides of the same coin. To give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he’s dealing with big stuff in his own life right now too–in which case I can certainly empathize because I’ve been there many times myself–but maybe he doesn’t have the creative outlets or the insightful friends that I do, so his feelings end up getting expressed by this inappropriate and ultimately impotent rage. I mean, come on. Making a mock-profile of me? That’s not something an adult human being with any kind of healthy self-respect would ever dream of doing. This person may say that he despises me, yet he also seems to want to be me somehow, simultaneously.

After having some time to think, I’ve decided that there are going to be two mottos that set the tone for this entry. One is the famous adage, ‘Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,’ and the other is Oscar Wilde’s funny-and-true saying, ‘The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.’

And now I have bigger and better things to attend to, such as a hospitalized ex-girlfriend and a cello-and-xylophone recording session. And some genuine friends who I care about, and who care about me in return. And hopefully even a nice dinner tonight, too.

In short, I have a real life, of which–for the most part–I am proud.

To my new online stalker friend from Ogden, Utah, I’m done with this. You will find that I’ve taken the security measures and all that off, so you’re again free to say whatever you want on here, anonymously or otherwise.

Your mock-profile of me is hilarious and very well-researched, I have to say. (I didn’t even know where to get that issue of TapeOp anymore. . .thank you!) You’ve done your homework on me, and I’m very flattered that my life is of such interest to you.

You should know, though, that the profile is in poor taste, because I found out when I got home just now that the person who’s in that picture with me was taken to the hospital today–and I don’t know why yet–so I have bigger and better things to think about right now. I’m asking you nicely to please take the profile down, and in the meantime, have fun reading and commenting on my blog.

Thanks for understanding.

See ya around.

–the REAL Todd

This week has been a bit much.

Friday night was the marathon night; straight from work to Ratatouille, then to the Gypsy bar, then to the Flaming Lips listening party, then to the double-shot of gay bars.

Saturday was a big show–the second week of the Voices For Silent Disasters series–at the Mission Theater with both Susie (I played accordion) and Breanna (I played piano, believe it or not). Very fun.

Sunday was dinner with John, where the waiter thought we were a couple and told us to “keep taking care of each other.”

Monday was a well-deserved Crash and Do Laundry Day.

Tuesday was SarahC Night, which originally meant that she and I were going to see the movie “Darjeeling Limited”, but the theater didn’t take credit cards, which was all we had. So we ended up hanging out and talking at the Sapphire Hotel–where they gladly accept credit cards–for a few hours instead.

Wednesday was another of TossedIn’s play readings. The play this time was a not-for-the-faint-of-heart epic that was written by one of the members of the group. It was hilarious and over-the-top. The author had his head in his hands for much of the play, saying, “I’m sorry,” for the unimaginably X-rated language and situations involved. He even told us at one point about how his so-called friend had said, “Look buddy, I don’t think this play is really ready for reading, so I’m not going to make it to the reading tonight” and that he’d “see if I can give you some criticism that would help you out.” Isn’t that a horrible thing to say about a work-in-progress? Anyway, after that, T and I and a couple other people from the group went on a bit of a scavenger hunt. Apparently there’s a game that’s sweeping the world, and it involves using your GPS unit (assuming that you have a GPS unit) to find hidden trinkets and coins, and signing your name on a tiny paper scroll inside. It was a total blast. I still have one of the coins; I need to figure out what to do with it. Hopefully someone’s not going to show up on my doorstep with a GPS and start digging around my apartment building.

Last night was a Breanna gig. There were two other songwriters on the bill, and the show went from 9:00 until midnight. It was pretty grueling. Also, there were only about eight people in the audience for the entire show. Oh well; I’ve played for fewer people, and for far less attentive ones too. So it was a good show, but pretty exhausting. Thank gawd for cheap food and free drinks.

And that’s not even saying anything about work, which was extremely stressful this week, especially yesterday and today. It’s also not saying anything about the fact that J started seeing a new guy this week, which brought a heaviness to my heart because of the connection that she and I have, even despite (or maybe because of. . .?) everything we’ve been through, and as close as we still are. Incidentally, she’s had the same lump-in-the-throat feeling whenever I’ve met someone new, so it goes both ways. We both care about each other so much that it’s sometimes hard to believe that a romantic relationship between us would never work, but we both know it. The good news is that her new guy seems really great, and even from the little bit she’s told me about him, I give their relationship my full support. Can’t wait to meet him. But it’s still kinda bittersweet for me at the same time.

So after this crazy week, I really needed to do simple, relaxing stuff that’s good for me, and that I just enjoy doing. It’s the kind of night that if I was a girl, I’d rejuvenate myself by taking a bath and painting my toenails or something, but what does the trick for me is cooking. I always feel like I’m Taking Care of Myself if I make a nice dinner, because I love to cook, but I never take the time to do it anymore. So tonight I made this:

It’s pasta with Alfredo sauce, smoked salmon, green onions and whole peppercorns. I got the idea from a meal I had at a local restaurant, and then I added my own touches to it. I’m still trying to improve it but even so, it’s always excellent and super easy. Tonight was no exception.

So that was Part One for tonight. Part Two involves watching a DVD I just rented called Haibane Renmei, which was written by the same guy who wrote Serial Experiments: Lain, a very dark, strange, and beautiful anime series. It’s one of my favorites, and I’m very much looking forward to this newer one.

Well, this entry turned out to be quite the novel. I really appreciate you for sticking with it clear through to the end.

This video just totally brought tears to my eyes and put a smile on my face.

Here’s the story.

Don’t forget to watch Part 2 also!

Hope it moves you as much as it did me. Thank you, Crystin, for sharing this.

As soon as I finished that last entry, I grabbed my bass, jumped in my car, and headed to Sarah Castro’s for rehearsal. Or so I thought.

You see, she lives just off Capitol Highway in Beaverton. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that I needed to go to SUNSET Highway instead. These are very different freeways, in completely opposite parts of town. I was through the tunnel and heading up the hill on the Sunset Highway when I realized, ‘Shit. What am I doing?’ It never really got any better after that.

I instantly thought, ‘Okay, I’ll just turn around at the next exit and come back up the Sunset Highway’ but there must have been a wreck or something in the tunnel, because traffic was at a dead stop for a couple of miles. I decided to go the only other way I knew, which was to take Highway 217 clear around Beaverton and meet up with I-5, where I could come back north and hit Capitol Highway from there. Wrong again.

Turns out that I-5 North doesn’t have an exit for Capitol Highway. Not only that, but that area of town is very confusing, so if you’re not very familiar with the area, it’s hard to tell which exit will get you where you need to go until you get downtown, by which time you’re in the thick of ugly traffic and construction. But I looked over in the direction of I-5 South anyway, only to find that there was an ambulance, a police car, and another two-mile, dead-stop traffic jam.

At that point I called Sarah. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, unfortunately.” I told her about my 45-minute circle of the metropolitan area, to which she responded, “That’s okay; it happens. No biggie.” I apologized and told her I’d see her for sure on Sunday.

On the way back up I-5 toward my exit, the city lights were particularly bright, and the Willamette River particularly calm, so the lights of downtown were reflecting beautifully. I always have my camera with me, so I thought I would pull over somewhere and take some pictures. The exit I took put me right near the Coliseum, which was fine, but then the road split and wouldn’t let me go straight where I needed to go straight in order to get to the park I had in mind. In fact, the road put me on the Steel Bridge headed over the river and toward downtown. I cursed under my breath and drove over the bridge.

Once I was in downtown, I went around the block and back over the bridge, only to find all the parking spaces full and a bunch of ne’er-do-wells milling around underneath the overpass. I decided to give it a miss.

So the best-laid schemes of mice and men went awry on this sorry excuse for an eve, and I have neither rehearsal nor pictures to show for my fruitless travels.

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

Or something like that.