“no, it goes down on a pentatonic scale.  there’s no chromatic run to it.”  i told my bandmate as we practiced metallica’s ‘master of puppets.’ 

i give mad propz to dm.  he’s one of those people who has outlived the tragedies that almost tore him while struggling on a daily basis.  his dad recently passed away when i met him.  the year after his mom followed.  his relatives never told him of the incident until after he was done with his finals.  i couldn’t just imagine how dreadful it was to find out that there was nobody else to meet him after coming home from finals.  he knew he had to support his younger brother and sister as soon as he graduated.

he’s still the same punk.  chatted with him once in a while over the instant messenger as he showed me his latest computer programs for his company.  he graduated with a degree in laser physics and i was thinking he would end up working for a nasa-type environment.  i guess he likes programming more.  learning guitar modes and scales probably must have molded his interest in creating applications out of his learned knowledge with computers.  i remembered walking into his dorm room and seeing him working on a 3d simulation of an airplane video game.  maybe my interest in understanding the patterns on the guitar neck laid its foundations on my interest with numbers.  hence, accounting.  but management will soon have its weird aftertaste when the next level comes.

him and i would crank the the volume up as both of our guitars were hooked up on one amp that would oftentimes alternate its wattage on either one of our dominating ear-deafening tones.  the college ladies would be irritated from our loud pointless guitar playing.  we’d end up checking them out as they walk down the hallway to their destination. such shy dumbasses we were since we can’t even approach any. 

“hell no, you go first.” he retorded.

ahh, those days.  mere infantile display of forensic psychosis.  i discouraged him from hopping into those strip clubs along broadway in san francisco when he was about to get married.  i dunno.  i just felt he had to be really loyal and ready for his wife-to-be.  i even remembered both of our ex’s would be together when we’d perform at college fairs.  he hasn’t talked to her since.  mine has gone off taking med somewhere and i lost her number.  he’d give me that evil look if i can’t give a good set at him when we played volleyball.  i told him that last time i tried playing regularly was during mondays at ucsf’s kezar gym.  he doesn’t have the time these days because he’s got a kid to take care of now.  i can’t believe he left his post at intel.  he must have liked the higher pay at another startup company. 

i kept on switching from dieselboy’s ‘project human’ album to maxwell’s ‘urban hang suite.’  for some reason the mood just gets me on the go when i play the latter behind the wheel.  i feel so relaxed as i drove my way past the windy streets. 

“i spent the new year’s in japan.”  lh told me as i passed by her desk for another chit-chat.  after working in the same place for quite sometime, i overlooked the fact that our firm has several good-looking employees.  my former humanities teacher introduced this term about everything being second nature once you get to experience them at a recurring interval. 

“it makes the stone stony and the horn… ” he was waiting for our sarcastic reply.  i’m pretty sure he’s done with his law school.  he was also friends with this one girl whom i grew up with and eventually liked for sometime.  she’s working as an assistant doing this sumthn’ sumthn’ to one senator while finishing her law degree. 

“ever feel like going back to our hometown?” i asked her.

“nah, i like it better here.  i’m more independent.”

i laid my head on her lap as we watched the afternoon sun set in one of the university’s stadiums.  that was the fateful day i quit smoking. 

she still smokes to date.

i reached for my second serving of ice cream.  cookies n’ cream would have to be the best flavor for me. 

“what else is there to do online?”  i asked myself.

i’m just bored to death, and at the same time having second thoughts of going out.  someone interpreted the tiny mole on one of my soles as an indication that i would always be out of the house.  i always was when i was younger.  my parents had gotten used to me coming back at 4am from weekly drinkfests during highschool. 

i’m getting old.  yet i’m only 23.  my japanese ex’s mom reminded me that i was always welcome at their place.  i didn’t want to get back with her, however.  she’s still in her party phase and i’m totally over it.  her mom said that maybe i found something in life that i just wanted to focus on it.  maybe true.  maybe not.

i kissed their pet dogs goodbye.  both of them were silent when i left the house.

from that time on was just white noise.


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