Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Greetings from sunny California
Don't worry, I may be back in So Cal for a few days, but that doesn't mean that the Salt Lake City local scene is in any trouble...I'll be back in a few days. I get to drive my BRAND NEW CAR back. ROAD TRIP! It just sucks though because I have to take it alone...but I guess that's better if I want to pick up and murder a few prostitutes while I'm in Vegas. I've found that no matter how much other people say that they're up for murder, they always back out at the last second. And then things get awkward because they know that you've killed someone, and their consciouse is telling them to turn you in, but that's just not going to happen...going to jail is not an option...so you start thinking about burying them up to their neck and leaving them in the desert to the mercy of the sun...and they can always tell what you're thinking. When someone has murder in their eyes you can see it...you can feel it. It's like they are burning holes into you. So nobody sleeps the rest of the way home, talking is pretty much kept to a minimum...and I usually don't like to eat any food just in case the person I am traveling with is trying to pre empt my murder attempt with poison. Basically it just ruins the whole fucking trip. And if you're not careful it can ruin your friendship.
However, when I was traveling through Vegas with Pif and I killed a whore, I was actually quite surprised to hear him suggest that we chop off her limbs and head so that we could stuff her conviniently into a duffle bag we had in the back of the trunk. Then we just drove her to othe airport and gave the bag to a retarded guy wearing a propellor hat...it rocked. I'll bet security freaked out when they X-rayed that thing. I'll bet the tard freaked out more when he got arrested. When we were watching the news the next day it said that he apparently took out three cops while they were trying to cuff him...with his bare hands none the less. The finally gunned him down as he was choking what would have been officer number four. He took 12 bullets to the chest and three to the head before finally kicking it. As it turned out he wasn't even retarded at all, he was just some goofy kid all hopped up on PCP.
Anyway, the moral of this journal entry is that no matter how tough ghetto life seems, remember that a young thugstar selling crack on the street for gun money is really an African prince that can do anything with his life. Don't let those Roman bastards get you down! COMPTON REPRESENT! WEST SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!
ps. I got new breaks for my car in compton...they squeek. Fuck Compton. WEST SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!
-Dane "I'm gonna take you over" Goodman.

Thursday, December 25, 2003

Everything seems so wrong
Because it all feels so right.
So, it's Christmas Eve. It's late and I just got off work a couple of hours ago. I don't feel the Christmas Spirit anymore. I used to get excited about it. Even though I knew there was no Santa Clause, it was still the holiday season, and people were still nice to eachother just because of that reason. And it would snow, and everything seemed magical, and as stupid as it sounds it's the truth. We don't even have a real christmas tree this year so our house doesn't even smell like Pine...I mean, what the fuck. And I know what I'm getting because it's two huge boxes stacked on top of one another in exactly the same fashion that you stack a power*** and an *** (heh...I think it's funny how I'm not going to tell you people what my present is, if you haven't figured it out then your S O L buddy). And it's not that it's a bad present by any means, because honestly I am way excited...it's just the fact that I know what it is you know? There's no more mystery or excitement or surprise anymore in anything. Sometimes I contemplate suicide, not because I am sad or depressed or anything, but just because it feels like I can already see my life ahead of me and I don't want it. I don't want to live some shitty life that is the same thing day in and day out, seven days a week. I don't want to just live until I grow old and fat and useless, and then look back on my life and realize that it has been a complete joke.
The only thing that still holds any sort of mystery and intrigue for me anymore is death. I think it is the most beautiful thing we do as humans. Death is so strange because it is frightening, and powerful, and romantic all at the same time. It's like having a fear of the dark but multiplied beyond belief. People will tell you that they know what happens when you die. They can say that they have talked to God, or seen angels, or sold their soul to Satan, but you can't trust people...the only true way to find out what happens after death is to die...and dead men tell no tales.
I wonder if you have to go through death alone. I would imagine that your entire body gets warm...things go fuzzy, all light gets a halo around them kind of like it does when you're really tired. I'll bet that when your brain freaks out and starts to randomly fire off synapsis you get a complete feeling of euphoria...and then maybe your family that has died before you will be there. Maybe just one person. Maybe Jesus...or maybe you just stop and there is nothing magical or mysterious about it at all. Maybe your brain stops working, and suddenly you're just a toy without a battery. Nothing more, nothing less. And everything you worked so hard to achieve in your life is now worthless...your family and friends (if you're lucky enough to have any) will watch your body be lowered into the ground, and they will hope that right now you are looking down on them and smiling and waiting for them to join you...but you're not. You're eyes are staring blankly at the wooden underside of the lid to your coffin, but you're not looking. You're not doing anything. You're just decomposing, turning to slosh, being eaten, feeding the earth...in fact, you are not even you anymore, only in physical resembalance. Just a corpse. Fertelizer. food. bones. slush. organs, shit, and hair...
...merry Christmas everyone.

Sunday, December 21, 2003

Hello, is there anybody out there?
If you people are reading this journal, you should leave little remarks just to let us know you were here, because I am painfully insecure and I need constant reassurance that you all still love me...much like God. Yeah, that's right...I just put myself up on the same level as God (or maybe I brought God up to the same level as me)...no apologies.
So anyway, these last few weeks have been shitty. We played that tottaly bitchin show at Kilby, and then suddenly Christmas started to take full affect. It's tottaly fucked us over. The Olive Garden is bussier than ever, so I am working six days a week, and I never get to see Pif or Alec, and we never get to jam. It's fucking horrible. Not to mention the three hundred dollars in three days that I spent on Christmas presents for people who probably won't care anyway. I probably won't even have any contact with some of these people in a few years...but still I spend/waste my money on them in the "spirit" of the holidays. Plus, it's snowing. Bah-Fucking-Humbug. Fuck snow, Fuck Olive Garden, Fuck Christmas, Fuck not practicing, fuck hair, fuck uniforms, fuck Utah, and if you're reading this and not leaving a comment...fuck you too.
however, on the plus side. I do get to go back home to Orange County in a few days. That's going to be sweet ass. I'll bring everyone back a present.

Sunday, December 14, 2003

This one goes out to all the ladies
The topic of a "dream girl" came up a little while ago...and I was sitting around thinking about what I think my dream girl would be like. So you want to know what I look for in a girl eh? Well let me tell ya.
Hair color isn't really all that important to me. Black, Blonde, Brunette, Purple, red, blue...whatever, I couldn't really care less. In fact, the carpet and the drapes don't even have to match.
Pretty eyes are a must though. the color doesn't matter as long as they are mysterious, maybe a little bit of a dark outline...not too big, but definitely not squinty. I hate squinty
eyes. God knows I hate squinty eyes...
Good lips and a cute nose are also important. These aren't really something that I can say I have any kind of cookie cutter idea in my head of what they should be like, all I know is that the two can compliment eachother...oh yeah, and a good smile is a must.
Sex is good, skanks are bad.
I also like girls that can be super bitchy some times. And I don't mean bitchy like a total, slashing up tires and throwing my shit out of a window, bitch...I mean bitchy like, a disregard for common decency. I want a girl who is going to make fun of fat, handicapped, and ugly people with me. But at the same time...they have to have enough control over the bitchiness to know that it's not cool to be bitchy to me...unless I deserve it. And I'll be the judge of that.
Good bodies are a must, but I can't say that there is one type of "good body" out there. Everyone just has what fits them best...I do however like a smaller breast and a perky ass! Yup...you heard it here first, I'm a total ass man...
And then with all the bitchiness and asses and old people assaulting, she has to find time to be sweet too...I know I know, I'm asking a lot here, but damnit, this is my fantasy girl I can request anything the fuck I want!
And finally, she has to like Half-Step. That's kind of a given though on account of the fact that I just don't talk to people who don't like Half-Step. I don't like girls who have shitty taste in music...I mean, I guess I can excuse a few shitty bands if they absolutely must like a few songs by such shit suckers as, A simple Plan, Dashboard, or (insert shitty emo band here), because what girl doesn't like that shit? But all in all they have to have respect for ass kickers like Queens of the Stone Age, Marilyn Manson, Tool, Half-Step, and Dave Mathews Band (just to name a few).

Friday, December 12, 2003

You read it here first
As most of you know, Alec, Pif, and I have written a lot of new songs since we've released our self titled cd...titled, Half-Step, just in case you have forgotten the name of our band. And none of you really know the names of the songs, or the lyrics for that matter. Well, I'm here to give them to you. You're getting them even before Brandon has enough time to post them up in our lyrics section. I'm going to do this one song at a time though. The first one I have here for you is "from the ashes" the title track to our upcoming cd...titled from the ashes, just in case you don't understand that a title track shares the same name as the title of the album. So without further ado...

"I want you to hear me scream, lay back and deliver me from this cross that I've nailed myself to.
I don't ask much of you, but you're here and I'm not so I'll teach myself to feed on the ashes...and I ask myself, "How can I live when all is wrong?"
Plead with a sky that has no God...
maybe I'm lost for something
maybe I'm lost while heaven waits...

Lord pass this cup from me...I don't have the strength to drink this wine that's pouring from your wounds.
And I ask myself, "how can I live when all is wrong?"
plead with a sky that has no God...
maybe I'm lost for something
maybe I'm lost while heaven waits...

A wave of calm washes over me
A wave of calm crashes over me...
And I ask myself, "how can I live when all is wrong?"
plead with a sky that has no God
maybe I'm lost for something
maybe I'm lost while heaven waits...covered in ashes."


Tuesday, December 09, 2003

we are live and local
And don't you forget it. last nights show at kilby court was definitely of the rocking variety. It kind of sucks that the other two bands were too pussy to play with rock gods, but it was also a good thing...for two reasons actually
Reason number one: we didn't have to sit through two other shitty bands that are too pussy to play with rock gods like us
Reason number two: the guys of Kilby Court were forced to recognize that every single person there came to see Half-Step.
There was also this really cool feeling to it having everyone there be there just for us...it had this vibe like a private show, so I really felt free to do and say whatever the hell I wanted. However, I did not call the audience "Mother Fuckers", not even once! That's how good they were! WOOHOO! Go audience! But yeah...we fucking rocked. And there wasn't any mexican radio coming through my amp either...stupid mother fucking hippies.
To anyone who didn't make it to the show, I take pity on your souls. And to Brandie, the lovely DJ of underground local music!, WE LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR COMING!
We hope to have t-shirts ready at our upcoming shows, so make sure your wallets are pregnant with love for your favorite boys of rock and roll debauchory! Because it's time to give us money!

Sunday, December 07, 2003

It's not "Hip" to be young
Well the show we played tonight was strange. There were a lot of hippies and art fags there. I guess it was in down town Salt Lake City though, so what else would you really expect? It's not so much that I hate hippies and art fags, because I like a few choice people from those "scenes", as they call it...it's just that we're not hippie music, and we're not art fag music. We're rock and roll...and some people can't get their "open minds" around that concept. These people were into indie shit I'd bet...And Weezer. They think the perfect ingridients to a song are Heart break, over analyzation, and pretentious dickishness. Well you know what have step says to that? NAY! You mother fuckers...NAY! We take your broken heart, your thinking brain, and your stuck up dick and we throw it all into a blender until we have a nice sauce, then we pour the sauce over a little Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll casserole that we made. KAPOW BITCH! Now that's a song! These people didn't agree, so they didn't pay much attention to us.
After we played, a few people told us that they thought we were under appreciated, which kind of made us feel better. And the owner of the place payed us $20.00 for one of our cd's which was cool. I don't think he would have done that if he wasn't so drunk though...I later saw him laying, face to the sky, on the sidewalk as I was leaving. Then some other girl told us that she thought we were good for how young we were. Yeah? Well fuck you whore. I think You look old for how old you are, so now what? BRING IT CUNT! And then finally this really nice lady, named Chelsea, told us how good she thought we were, and she thought it was funny that in between every song we would look at the audience, who wasn't looking at us, and call them "Mother fuckers". According to her we called the Audience "Mother fuckers" a grand total of 27 times...so I gave her a free cd and told her that she was "the coolest mother fucker here".
I loved it though...I thought it was great fun. We rocked the fuck out. Seriously, my neck is killing me right now. I don't know how I'm going to work in the morning if I'm all sore everywhere.
Mental Floss was bad ass. They kind of fell under the same prediciment as we did. For some reason the mother fuckers didn't come and watch them either. Everyone was super stoked to see The Rodeo Boys play though...and I can't say I blame them. I was pretty impressed with those guys. They gave me a cd for free. We're expecting a much more enthusiastic crowd on Monday night though. It better be, or else all of your souls are mine!

Saturday, December 06, 2003

I think we need a doctor at tonights show
Well, as many of you do not know, we're going to be playing a small little set tonight for the cd release party of an awesome band called Mental Floss. These guys rock. I'm friends with the bass player, Adam, he's so fucking rad! He lives on a boat out on the Great Salt Lake. How cool is that? Alec and I decided that we want to live on a boat and write under water music, every night before we went to bed we would jam out on "under the sea" from the Little Mermaid. It doesn't get much cooler than that.
But back to the show...I think I'm getting sick. Seriously, it way sucks. My sinuses are killing me and I'm all disoriented and what not, this is the shittiest thing ever, because I really really want to rock to my full rock potentiol tonight. I'm just going to get all hopped up on cold medicine I guess, and do my best. Maybe if I just keep telling myself that I'm not sick, it will go away...because telling myself that I am sure doesn't seem like the working solution right now.
Oh, and my good friend Matt is in town. I LOVE YOU MATT! He's here from California (my beautiful polluted home!) to hang out with his favorite serial killers, Half-Step, and maybe make some sweet sweet love down by the fire with some hot mormon pussy! But first we need to find mormon pussy, and that my friends is no easy task!
I just got off the phone with Alec...he's getting sick too. Oh well. THE HUNT FOR MORMONS IS ON!

Thursday, December 04, 2003

I can't write right now...it would be way too weird.
On flight musicals and God
so I guess this is my first time really posting in here. I've decided that I'm not going to fuck around and waste everyones time being giggly and excited about writing in here. Instead I'm going to talk about God...a very serious subject. This isn't a lecture, or an essay, but you can take it as either if you want...and then you can take it up the ass for being a square, because only a square would look at a journal entrie in a bands diary as a lecture or an essay. So here we go.
God. Wow...what do you say about God? He either doesn't exist, or he doesn't have time for us. Have you ever prayed, and when your words stop you realize that you are surrounded by nothing but silence...and you realize that you are alone, and suddenly prayer becomes talking to yourself. Wether he exists or not, he wasn't listening...there was something better on. With no God to be there for us the world becomes a similar experience as learning to ride a bike. It's that feeling when you realized that your dad has let go of you...you look back and realize you're flying solo and you just start thinking, "What the fuck? He lied to me...he promised me he wouldn't let go! And he's smiling at me...bastard! Doesn't he realize I'm going to die?". And that's when you smack into the tree...thank god you were wearing a helmet. And I use the word, "God", loosely.
The fuel of choice for God is faith. Premium grade of course...unfortunately the arabs hored it all from us...but the price seems to be greater for them. Heh, that was a funny joke because by greater price I meant to emply that they are killing eachother all the time. War in the streets, suicide bombers, children with guns. It's pretty kick ass, and personally I think it would make a cool musical. Do Arabs do musicals? Heh...maybe they would perform an on flight performance...ewww, that was bad. I'm a naughty boy. Wow...the concept of an on board musical starring nothing but terrorists has actually lifted my spirits to the point where I don't feel cheated and beguiled by God right now...so I'm going to change my focus to Olive Garden.
Fuck you Olive Garden. You have worms in your Zupa Tuscana...your food is unsanitary in so many ways, and you work your employees for eight hour shifts with no lunch break...fuck, the employees aren't even ALLOWED to eat during their eight hour shift. Your food is over priced and not even cooked by authentic Italians. So again I say, "Fuck you Olive Garden...fuck you in your fucking ass."
- Dane

Monday, December 01, 2003

It is time.
Behold the online Journal of your once and future King.

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