Daniel Lioneye

Sun, 14 May 2006 09:27:09 GMT

I'm sleeping over at Jim's for, like, the second time this week. My bros and I got wasted tonight. So I'm sitting here, on Jim's computer, making a playlist to go to sleep to because I have to get up in four hours. But, the first song is a song from the last Banned show. Goddamn, do I miss that band. I play this song all the time whenever I get the chance to hold a guitar, but it doesn't even compare to the last time I heard it.

sleepless, alone, and still

Tue, 09 May 2006 04:51:04 GMT

It's one of those nights where I can't sleep. Maybe it's the four hour nap I took this evening. Maybe it's my first final is in thirteen hours. Maybe it's because I spent most of the weekend hanging out. Here's what's on my mind:

1. I know a lot of people might disagree with this, but my notion that we base our image of God (if you believe God exists) on our fathers still stands. Not that I believe in God, but here's a fun fact: when my father had cancer in the early 90's and had to undergo fourteen months of radiation therapy and couldn't talk for the entire fourteen months -- my younger brother didn't talk. He used to talk, but he spent more than a year not talking. Because my father didn't talk.

2. How I didn't die last night... I don't know. The fact that I could have fallen and broken myself still reverberates throughout my body. Maybe it was a force of nature that put those suitcases there.

3. Never, ever read people's old livejournal updates/blogs. Especially when you miss them.

4. My theme song is still "I Hate My Life" by Youth Brigade.

5. Slowly, but most surely, my creative outlet is disappearing. It makes me question whether I had one to begin with.

6. My cat leaves the house for days on end when I am at school. And when I come home, he shows up and only eats and sleeps in my bed. When I'm gone, he leaves again. It's really cute.

7. Everyday I get more and more angry at Devin for deciding to go to Montana for the entire summer. But there ain't no reins on that kid so I can't really be angry. But fuck him anyway. Montana?!

8. Seriously, missing people is the absolute worst. I take that back. It's second to self-destruction.

you don't wanna be no girl of mine

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 02:22:04 GMT

Fordham decided to end classes May 8th. Not May 4th. AND the institution decided to start classes in the fall on August 30th. Summer classes start end of May and I'll be there until beginning of August. Seriously, fuck school, fuck summer, and fuck you.

Friday I was stranded when the rain hit. Saturday, I took shelter in an antique shop and ate pizza, drank Brooklyn Lager, and smoked cigarettes -- all from a ninety dollar wicker chair. We listened to Led Zeppelin II maybe three times. When customers came in, we didn't bother to put our cigarettes out or hide our beers.

I used to ponder what Shakespeare wrote: 'what's in a name?' And I used to think a name is nothing at all. But when you start to realize that the name you've held for so long -- probably the only thing that really gives you a history and story -- is going to have to change, it's kind of hard to part with.

Fuck this shit. My voice needs to be recorded right now. Leo's writing a Vietnam screenplay, sort of. But instead of filming it, we're just recording our voices. It's called 'Gookblaster.' It's a classic story of one man and his struggle to end what's wrong in the world. Kind of like Rambo. But in Vietnam.

Fuck this shit. Fuck you. Fuck Paul Chun for taking the internet away from me. Fuck fuck fuck tits balls ass and shit.

my blurry vision saw nothing wrong

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 22:33:06 GMT

I held her tight and in between whispering sweet nothings in my ear, she kept kissing me every where on my face, but not my mouth. It was obvious what was going on between us to our circle of friends, who all stood around talking and smoking cigarettes while my cousin and I tried to say our goodbyes (which was to no avail, seeing as how I leaned against the wall of the building with her in my arms and our eyes closed). With our fingers interlocked and our bodies pressed up against each other, the smell of jug wine heavily on our breath, I tried to kiss her. She quickly turned her head, so I tried again with the same result. I whispered in her ear, so as no one could hear, 'don't avoid me.' She responded that she wasn't, so I tried again. Realizing that she was too drunk and I was drunk and high, but more drunk than high, I said 'I'm not going to kiss you now, but I'm going to kiss you later.' With that, my cousin and I left Union Square, taking the 4 up to 59th street where we waited for a train bound for Astoria. After minutes of waiting, we climbed to the street and took a cab.

Our cab driver was very nice. The entire ride over the Queensboro bridge, I thought about her. Did she not want to kiss me because I was too scruffy? Was she taken by another man? I left my thoughts being optimistic -- telling myself that I'm going to win her over. So my cousin and I planned on celebrating. I don't remember how much the cab fare was, but because the driver was such a swell guy, I over-tipped. We went to a pizza place that was open late and ate old pizza before heading into a pub named after our mothers' maiden name. The entire time I feigned conversation with my cousin. I still had her on my mind.

The bar was dark, small, and under-packed for a Saturday night. Exactly how I wanted it to be. We sat at the bar and my cousin ordered two Guinnesses and I rolled a couple of cigarettes. We sat and smoked and drank and I talked about playing pool. Pool would be good, I thought to myself and the more my cousin declined the more I knew I could beat him. I have a horrible track record of failing in things against my older of kin. I could never beat my father in chess, my brother in basketball, or my cousin in winning hearts. Despite all my attempts throughout my life, I always lost. After a second round, we played a game and he won after I scratched on the eight ball. Another beer and game later, I finally beat him. I was too drunk to gloat over my win, probably because he challenged me to another game. We ordered another round and a shot of whiskey, and he beat me again. Neither of us remember the walk home.

We awoke the next morning much later than expected. My cousin made tea and we sat on his balcony drinking tea and putting together the puzzle pieces of last night. He claimed she was being affectionate with him too -- but I knew it was nothing. They didn't have their fingers interlocked and she didn't kiss him the way she kissed me. What I didn't know was that while he was in the bathroom "throwing up jug wine," she was there with him.

the gods are fearing men

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 02:43:55 GMT

I've been constantly on the phone with Pat for the last two weeks or so -- exchanging stories from school and placing ten dollar bets on the NCAA tournament (which, if UCLA wins this, Paddy owes me mad money).

I've also been trying to talk to Luna. However short our conversations are, I know we're still best friends when she asks me how I'm doing by saying "Hey Bastard," and I go "Hey Cunt."

Before I know it, we'll all be in my backyard grillin' burgers and drinking beers until the sunrise.

memorize your miseries

Thu, 23 Mar 2006 22:43:19 GMT

I just read the most appalling thing EVER and I just can't STAND people who are SO full of shit.

Like, why do I even bother? I got a gal down south with a muffin in the oven and a boy on the island with a head full of lead. If I make it through tomorrow without a heart attack will be an achievement. If I can get drunk -- that will be a well rewarded victory.

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 20:46:45 GMT

I wish I had three twenty-twos.

forecast is for 'bad craziness'

Thu, 16 Mar 2006 07:11:55 GMT

No one ever told me adjusting would be the hardest thing to do. I feel like no place will ever be home. I suppose that is the most crushing thing ever. There are some who have it worse and all I can do is complain. Nothing feels right anymore, and if it does -- it's only a rerun of what used to be good.

My heart says "settle." My mind says "no."

Thu, 16 Feb 2006 22:44:19 GMT

I've given up on hygiene. My teeth are rotting, my hair is falling out, I smell horrible, the hair on my face is patchy and disgusting, and I'm getting a gut. It seems that I'm always either hungover, upset, or never quite wasted. I don't know when I've had my fill. My lungs are full of shit and my voice has turned into a raspy gruff of what was once the voice of a boy with hopes and dreams. The bad news keeps on coming, too. When finally things seem alright, something new comes to light and I'm back down again.

I spent Valentine's Day in the bar. When a friend left because he was shrooming, I drank by myself and played pool -- beating everyone that attempted to play. I walked home alone, trying not to slip on the ice that had already formed from the melting of the weekend's snow and, after making it back, decided it was not time for bed. It was far too late for me to be up, but my priorities for the next day didn't matter. So I broke the one resolution I made over a month ago that I swore I'd keep. I sat alone, like I did at the bar, and while I ate I watched people continuing their night -- splitting pitchers and singing horrible karaoke. I walked back home by myself again, forcing smoke into my lungs until I reached my steps.

I got into bed, set my alarm, and let my mind drown.

At least no one made fun of my shoes today.

for every push forward, you get the same fuckin' push back

Tue, 14 Feb 2006 14:16:30 GMT

This weekend was uneventful. Full of strep throat, fevers, orange juice, re-learning guitar, and Nip/Tuck. I'm wearing my pea-coat now because two hoodies and a jean jacket just didn't keep me warm anymore. The high point of my weekend came when I received a drunk dial in which I was told that a conversation was necessary for closure on both our parts.

I kind of love being away at school and so close to home. The one weekend I decide to come home and take the train back to school, Metro North pulls the same shit it did in high school. "The 7:28 Express train to Grand Central Terminal will not be running." I am totally love commuting! (Note: sarcasm)

In two weeks, no one will notice. I'll even put money on it.

ain't nobody that can sing like me

Sat, 04 Feb 2006 08:12:07 GMT

I did something very foolish tonight. I did it even before the foolishness even started -- but it was something that if I was in my right mind (which I was... sober as a fuckin' stone) I still probably wouldn't have done it. Probably because I am a pussy. But it involved coming off like an asshole and being a complete dick. Then again, when have I not been an asshole or a complete dick? Hell, I'll curse out my best friend if the booze is flowing.

I got into an argument with a Spanish guy about punk rock tonight. Not that I know EVERYTHING about punk rock, but I knew more than this guy and he kept bringing up Nu Metal bands and shit. I don't want to get into it, ask me in person. Just know that I'm sitting here now in a state of complete self-loathing. So I'm going to smoke another cigarette and drink another beer -- even though I don't need either.

Pictures and Billy Bragg/Wilco. Not a good combination.

I'm sorry.

too pathetic to live, too tough to die

Sun, 29 Jan 2006 01:05:51 GMT

This feels really pathetic.

My roommate left to go home to New Jersey to smoke blunts. I've had this room to myself for a couple hours now. About half an hour ago, I went across Fordham Road and bought a couple of Super Tall Boys and a book of matches -- the beers for the hell of it and the matches to smoke (since someone stole my lighter last night in order to spark a bong). I've played a game of All Star Baseball '04 for Playstation 2. I was the Yankees against the Astros. Home game. I didn't even bother finishing it -- it's in the top of the ninth and the score is four to nothing, Astros. Even if I pick up the controller and get Mariano Rivera to pitch this last half inning, and field like it's my fuckin' job -- my attempts will be futile because I will not make up those four runs.

My attorney and my partner in destruction here are not picking up their phones, so I've cracked open a beer and have my iTunes on shuffle. The Ramones keep coming on. The next two or three hours of my life are going to be the most wasteful.

No matter how close I am to the city, it will always be far away. I will never make up those four runs.

Sat, 28 Jan 2006 02:11:22 GMT

i'm on the night train: i love that stuff / i'm on the night train: and i can never get enough

disorder and dissarray

Tue, 24 Jan 2006 04:20:44 GMT

I've been having the most random subway rides lately.

On the 4 last night, I sat next to a vampire on her way to an elitist vampire party. During the day she's a paralegal.

Waiting for the D at 125 street on Saturday, I saw this huge, haggard, crusty guy try to sell two prostitutes crack.

Waiting for the C that same night, two homeless guys called me a racist and wanted to kill me because I wouldn't buy a metrocard off of them.

Friday night on the 1, I sat across from a man who reminded me a lot of my father. He was small and frail and really quirky and bald and kind of flamboyant and reading Vogue.

My bottom teeth keep getting worse and worse.

to all those with dead end loves

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 01:27:26 GMT

bryzwell: dont take her tricks, remember, YOU are the warrior.

here's one for the tame

Fri, 06 Jan 2006 06:03:04 GMT

!

That's all I can do to describe the last five hours. A simple "!."

Just know that it's necessary to make a mixtape.

you are your worst revenge

Thu, 22 Dec 2005 18:03:53 GMT

The only thing that's kept me sane since Sunday is the routine once-a-day trip to get an everything bagel with two eggs, bacon, cheese, and a small coffee. This strike is preventing me from coming home with all my belongings. I should rephrase that. The MTA in general is preventing me from coming home because in this small room of mine, everything I own exists. On top of that, I'm being forced out tomorrow, so I'm in a pickle.

Everyone else is home and enjoying the fact that they can sit and relax and do power hours and eat for free. I've got no money in the bank. What's left of my laundry money is spent on food. Right now, home is such a foreign concept. Opening my window all the way and jumping out onto 16th street in front of all the Coffee Shop and Blue Water Grill patrons seems like an excellent idea.

I don't sleep anymore. I just wallow and remember the days when I would try to stay up to watch the sunrise, drinking thirty packs. Wanting to watch the sunrise is so much better than actually doing it.

muscles burning alcohol and nicotine every morning

Mon, 19 Dec 2005 17:01:54 GMT

I stayed up all night writing and making a zine for my literature class final.

My roommate Tim stayed up all night writing a five page paper.

At seven this morning, we went and got breakfast and drank tons of coffee.

I'm not going to take a nap. I'm going to write more because the secret to staying awake is busy work. Laboring over things and acting like a machine actually feels really great.

Most of y'all just don't know.

wating for the buses but the buses won't come

Sun, 11 Dec 2005 20:07:04 GMT

My roommate is gone. I have this entire room to myself for the next two weeks before I get the fuck out of here. I spent all morning exitedly re-arranging this little room into something my own. No more sleeping eight feet off the ground. No more foul smelling four day old Dominos/McDonalds. No more awkwardness. More music all the time.

THIS is how I want to live the rest of my life.

I have more to say, but I can't convey it. You wouldn't know what it's like -- opening your windows to smoke a cigarette and seeing the city and the light snow falling down -- you wouldn't know what it's like. I got a girl's number that I haven't called yet and this new feeling to embrace. It almost makes me want to stay here.

on the streets tonight, that's where you'll find me

Sun, 04 Dec 2005 10:22:12 GMT

My parent's home is lonely at five-twenty in the morning.

I'm sitting in the kitchen as I write this. The lights are off, the cat is playing with her tail. Justin Sane is being the only friend I got right now.

In attempts to find food somewhere in this place, I caught a glimpse of what's going on outside. The dumpster, the driveway, and my parents' new car are all covered in snow.

it was nice to believe for a while

Wed, 23 Nov 2005 00:37:13 GMT

Everything seems really poignant right now. Everything brings a smile to my face but an ache to my heart. Maybe it's the fact that I've been drinking for twenty-eight hours. Maybe it's the text message I just got. Maybe it's my roommmate Paul vacuuming. Maybe it's the song that's playing right now -- but everything seems so bittersweet and I want things to remain like this forever and ever.

I'm missing my train and that seems alright.

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 09:14:14 GMT

There ain't nothin' like callin' your buddy (who currently lives all the way up the interstate) up at four in the morning while he's in the middle of doing his radio show and talking shit in between songs, and then having him dedicate a song to you and the two fools you just wrote a paper about.

The two fools being W.B. Yeats and T.S. Eliot.

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 05:37:20 GMT

Colin, you'd be really proud of me right now.

I'm writing a paper on Yeats and listening to the Pogues and sipping a beer. It feels real good, in a completely nerdy way.

you can have it all

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 09:20:39 GMT

Devin and I are up at four fifteen in the morning. We just killed a skunk ass piece of shit forty that Luna's roommate had opened about a week ago. It was gross. Devin's eyes are red. He is making Ramin right now so we can stay up another three hours drinking forties. I have no cigarettes. I am going insane. Skidmore is kind of the coolest college campus ever. It is more or less Purchase on crack/cocaine.

I am infamous here. It's kind of awesome.

Devin has been gone for the last ten minutes. I have no idea where he is.

two times in one day?!

Thu, 20 Oct 2005 00:43:06 GMT

Shortly after I wrote my last entry, I had to take a book out of the crazy NYU library and they wouldn't let me. My only other option to get this book (which was absolutely needed) was to call Steve up and have him take it out. So I did. And he did. And then he told me that the Program Board had box wine that I could drink. So Steve and I have been in here for the last few hours drinking box wine and eating free food and doing homework. We are both drunk. He is pooping and drinking box wine right now and I am updating livejournal.

In short, Steve and I rule as a couple.