“Delayed reaction from this weekend: No I haven’t lost weight. Stop asking every time you see me.”

My thoughts on this the following day:

Not much else needs to be said here I guess, hence the simple beauty of twitter. I wonder at what point this trend goes from annoying to just plain insulting. It’s starting to tip the scales.

Even a simple, albeit vapid, “lookin good!” [*wink* and/or * thumbs up*] would be better. Pointing out sore spots isn’t complimentary. Save your sentiments for when you can actually, genuinely see a difference, then I’ll appreciate it.

That was a deciding moment. It’s been 7 months and 28 pounds later and I’d love it if you asked. Ask away. Thanks

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Well kiddies, the message seems to be "When in doubt, eat tranquilizers"

Well, Xmas was a success. Small fun gifts all around, just enough to have a laugh and not get real wrapped up (no pun intended) in compeditive shopping or one-up gifting. Spent some time in East milly with the fam. Mom’s baked ham rocks as always. Nice.

Realized last night that I’d felt a little out of sorts all day because I hadn’t taken my Ativan both nights when I was home this weekend! A quick flash of panic preceeded the swift realization that I felt fine, in fact, I may only be loopy from the long drive home I thought.

So I skipped it last night as well. Once I finally got to sleep, I was amidst some of the strangest repeating dreams I can remember in a while. Tossing and turning all night, then salivating profusely all morning for no apparent reason to the point of near vomiting, I took a hint and munched one (I only take a measely .5 mg now). I felt better, but also way tired, pretty much immediately. Scarily so.

Not this time, but at least I know what layer of hell I’ll be weathering when the day finally comes for me to kick lorazepam outta my life for good. Now it’s time for a nappy nap and hopefully sound sleep. Weird dreams are still ok though, bring em on.

- mobile entry

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Smush my face

Well, it’s been a year now since I’ve moved into the “blogosphere” and I’m amazed at how different things can seem after just one year.

A test in follow-thru, I’ve managed to keep up on this project just enough lately to post maybe 3 per month of various lengths. Not too bad considering I’ve left similar projects in the dust after only weeks. I haven’t managed to do many of the things I wanted to with this thing yet though. I have been slipping on a lot of things lately and on the list of projects to feel guilty about neglecting, I suppose this blog has been further down.

I always fall into thinking that I just don’t have the time to post anything, imagining that each post should be something grand and important, thought-provoking and profound. So I never get around to it at all. I do the same thing with those “catching up” phone conversations with people I haven’t seen in a long time. Knowing it may take a good while to get up to speed before any headway in the conversation is made (not to mention the slow motion awkward mode that usually accompanies), I put it off and put it off until I can devote this huge mythical chunk of spare time… and it never happens.

So I should probably pick up the phone (or get on this bitch) and at least say a little something before I think myself out of something potentially enlightening… or just fun.

-ps. For those of you who actually download my seasonal mixtapes, Fallmix 08 is nearly complete…

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I’ve managed to put a few posts up here in the past couple of months but none have really been anything but reposts of interesting news or blurbs about some thing, some excited rants about what cool little widget I’ve decided to latch onto and make into my escape for a moment. I’ve slowed down on the genealogy research, haven’t written anything for real here in quite some time, and keep putting off songwriting, art making, and other goals I’ve set. I just seem to sleepwalk between work and home. From monitor to monitor, terminal to terminal, to movie, to video game, to email, to myspace… The phosphors flicker and I stare.

I’ve been really sick twice in two months, have gained back about 13 pounds and feel tired all the time. No matter how early I go to bed I can’t seem to sleep until it’s way too late. I’m in a pattern here and it’s making me feel so shitty. Seasonal Affective Disorder has me and I can’t seem to shake it off. Why is alcoholism so prevalent in New England you ask? Spend a winter holed up in your shanty here and tell me you don’t long for a stiff drink every second after the third week.

I’m tired of being cold and inside. I’m tired of waiting all week for the weekend and when it arrives not having anything to be excited about anymore. I’m tired of feeling tired, eyes all swollen and red, butt numb and back aching from hunching over into a computer screen all day.

I am glad though for my ability to see for a change that it’s the season that’s getting to me. I’m glad that work is going well. I’m glad I’m not poor. I’m glad I’m still sober. I’m glad for the music, lots of good music to help me through until spring windows open. I’m glad for D&D on Sundays. I’m glad for Wednesday night bowling, though I apologize I’ve been opting out so often lately guys. And I’m glad the clocks are getting set forward this Sunday.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited for it in all my life.

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I got this bulletin Friday night from my friend Les and I laughed for about 10 minutes, so I decided to share it, drunken old skool pic and all!

i go to work….i make things out of metal welding all fuckin day long till my goddamned eyes bleed….i come home and pick up my guitar and work on metal passages that will make you fall down bleeding…….my eyes are so burnt out that i cant see in sunlight…..so i need shelter from the sun like a fuckin vampire……….im so metal….its retarded how metal i am………….I AM METAL.

Did I mention he is as metal as hell? Ok good.

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I decided that I needed to quit, and that I would. The story isn’t a sad, cautionary tale of woe. No “hitting rock bottom”, no “pink elephants” or bugs under my skin, no car crashes. No meetings, no clinics, no prayers to any gods. Just some self-actualizing and serious introspection. I know, pretty boring huh?

I wrote this on my myspace blog on April 8th this past year, I think it sums things up pretty well:

“Been outta the picture for a while. I was unemployed for a stretch there and pretty broke. Unemployment gave means to survive but not much else, so I had to lay low. It was boring and seemed like an eternity but somehow became a routine like anything else. But now I see that if it weren’t for all that down time, it would’ve been much more difficult to make the changes in my life that had needed to be made for so fuckin long.

Mainly that I quit drinking. For so many reasons that I’d rather not even list them all as they would take up the entire blog here, but sufficed to say, it needed to be done. I have also been on a higher dosage of a prescription tranquilizer drug called Ativan for over 3 years per my old school pill-happy Doctor. Btw, you’re not supposed to be drinking while on this medication… hehe Anyway, between the 2, my head was a mess, not to mention my health and spirit. I couldn’t think straight, my health was deteriorating (hypertension, obesity, abnormal liver function, cholesterol, migraines, yikes huh?), and my life had been passing me by. Worst of all I had kinda justified it all to myself so well, and my head was so cloudy anyway, that I only realized it for a fleeting moment here and there.

It’s been 98 days now dry as a bone. And from 2 to 3 milligrams per day of Ativan (picture 10 times that of Valium and you’ll get the picture), I’m down to 1/2 mg at bedtime. Already in 3 months my blood pressure has dropped dramatically, I haven’t had a headache or so much as a cold, and I’ve dropped 20+ pounds. Not to mention I can keep a coherent train of thought for more than 30 seconds, it’s been a clear blue couple of months. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like.

So here I am with a track to run on, my health is improving, I’m gainfully employed (more on that later), starting to create artwork again, sorting out my finances, and facing shit with a positive mental attitude. I know, it sounds like a fucking commercial or something, like some preachy non-smoker or born-again. But I really feel that it’s what my life needed, I really don’t care how anyone else feels about it, or how everyone else chooses to live. I’m just excited to get on with it, you know? So to those I haven’t seen in a while, I hope this explains why I’ve been so reclusive…”

I’m not saying it has been a piece of cake. It’s been trying at times, but I finally feel like I can get on with it and fully see beyond it now. I’ve stepped beyond my strained perception of myself, all the lies I told myself, all the fear. Once I realized that I wasn’t going to turn into some boring old man, some dried up old square, that I wasn’t really missing anything if I didn’t go out to town every single night, there I was: in the really real world. I think that’s been the hardest part, dealing with the mess that has always been here, all the things I continually ran from. I feel I’ve made headway there too, for the first time in a long time.

Upon realizing that I’ve just been drinking soda all night, the reaction outside my close group, has been a round of “yeah right..”, “yeah me too haha..” then a look of puzzlement. The encouraging pep talk usually ensues, and then the question: “Wow, what’s that like?”, said in such a way, like they couldn’t imagine how I could go without. I felt that way too at first, but I got thinking, what was it like? How did I feel about it now?

Again, it wasn’t at all like the obligatory after school special/AA litany I’d heard so many times before. There were a handful of times where it was a struggle at first but now I’ve made it to a point where I don’t think of alcohol in the same way anymore. I’ve detached myself, I’ve written it off. I’ve explained it as an allergy or trigger recalling a traumatic event. I just blocked it off. For example, I once ate so many of those nasty orange circus peanut candies one night when I was a kid, I thought I was going to die. I was super sick to my stomach. I haven’t eaten one since, just thinking of them now makes my stomach turn. Extreme example I know, but you get the idea. I shut them out.

I’ve been venturing back out to the clubs more and more to socialize, see bands, and hear friends spin. It hasn’t been a problem for me, which is cool. But NYE at White Heart sure tried my patience. Amateur night. I realized that drunks are really annoying. And that I was one of them for a long time. I was mad at these people more for reminding me of this, than spilling their drinks and shit on me. And I think realizing then, that this may not be my scene anymore, made me mad at them too. I left early.

So the tide turns. Change is tough for some people, I’m one of them. But it’s gotten much easier now. Nearly every aspect of my life has improved because I made a hard change, now I look forward to new ones! ~S

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But yeah.. 34. Not a remarkable number, but it definately means something to me this year. Now that I think about it, I’m sure I would have found some reason to make it significant even if things hadn’t changed so dramatically for me this year. I would have drank my face off as per usual until the wee hours and felt like ass until about, well, now (the night after). So that’s different. And I actually worked on my birthday like a (pseudo)responsible adult. Granted I didn’t do a whole lot while I was there.. but I went, and you know, I didn’t really mind being there so much. That’s definitely different.

Some friends and I went out and did the whole Tapanyaki table thing for dinner and hung out for a few before heading home early because we were all tired and had to work early. And it was a good time. Thanks to Abe and Jarod for making it happen and thanks to all who came!

30 year-old Shawn would laugh at me, but I don’t really listen to him anymore.

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Everyone knew Pat. I knew him best during my mid-twenties when me and the band of hometown knuckleheads I still keep company with every now and again, practically lived at the Burnt Land Rips. He was a regular there and always drank with us and carried on after hours with us. He became a regular in our crew for a while, crashing on our couches, hanging out.

Whenever I would mention Pat, someone would invariably groan something about being “useless” or “what a bum”. I always laughed, just like he did at them. You see, these kind of comments always came straight from the mouth of a disgruntled, grizzled old yocal, someone so unhappy with his lot working at the mill that they feel they have to heckle anyone who doesn’t live the way they do. Maybe because his freedom seemed like uncertainty, which scares people. Or maybe they were jealous of his free spirit, feeling better about bashing him for being able to live the way he truly wanted because they couldn’t.

Whatever the reason, I never paid attention to that drivel. Pat was a free spirit, poor in money but rich in friends. Pat was always smiling. He was always laughing. It was infectious. When he was playing Bass he was happiest. “Smoothest bassist around” my stepfather always said. I think I saw Pat stand in with every band playing in the area at the Rips during the 90’s.

I always tell people about the time my friends Jarod and Dave and I were travelling to Boston to see Black Sabbath during their reunion tour in 99 (I think) and got snowed out on our way there from Presque Isle in mine and Jarod’s hometown of East Millinocket. We decided we’d leave early the next day and dropped by the Rips to have a few beers. No one was there but Pat who was tending bar that night. I introduced him to my college roommate Dave, to which he immediately responded “Hey Dave, ya know how you can tell your roommate’s gay? His dick tastes like shit!” It was the night after the Superbowl I think cause Pat dug out every leftover in the place and fed our broke asses. He also proceeded to get us so shitfaced that none of us felt right until the next night at the show. All for free.

I laugh when I think of that night, and all the nights we hung out and drank too much at that place. I think I’ll always expect to see him come through the door when I’m there. “No way man, YOU are..”

Patrick J. “Pat” Moscone

(September 2, 1952 – November 19, 2007)

East Millinocket – Patrick “Pat” Joseph Moscone, 55, died peacefully of natural causes on Monday, November 19, 2007 in East Millinocket. Pat was born in Bangor, ME. on September 2, 1952, the son of Anthony D. Moscone, Sr. and Kathleen R. (Malone) Moscone. Pat was a long time resident of East Millinocket. His sharp wit and sometimes extreme sense of humor were the stuff of legend in the town. Pat will mostly be remembered as a gifted musician, a bass guitarist, whose career spanned the decades from the late 60’s to the present. He performed with a great variety of bands from early local groups such as the Tornados, the Variations, Honest John and Saturday Afternoon, to bands with regional and state wide exposure such as the Mark Miller Band, Coast, Velvet Hammer, Choice, and One Last Swing. Pat was honored to have played in sessions with Robert Hunter of the Grateful Dead, Brad Delp of Boston, K. D. Bell and others. He will be sadly missed by the many musicians he was associated with throughout his career. The list is long and includes, Mark Miller, Phil Groves, John “Poody” Michaud, Jeff Crocker, Mark “Bird” Swan, Jeff Glidden, Jack Swanson, Ray Pasnen, Peter Byron, Scott Perrow, Wayne Brewer, Buddy Adams, the England Brothers and Bob Fillion.

Pat is survived by his brother Anthony D. Moscone, Jr. and his wife Nancy of East Millinocket, a special niece Julia K. Moscone and her husband Mathiew Duross of Lyman, ME, and four favorite cousins, Diane Casey, Sharon Moscone, Sandra Schnautz, and Ruthanne Wickersham. Pat also leaves many good friends as well as his best friend and confidant, Dr. Mark Rosebush of Billings, Montana. Pat was predeceased by his parents.

Friends are invited to visit with the family 12:00-2:00 p.m. on Saturday, November 24th at the Lamson Funeral Home, 17 Western Ave, East Millinocket where a memorial service will be conducted at 2:00 p.m. with the Rev. Joel Cyr officiating. Interment will be at the East Millinocket cemetery. Gifts in memory of Pat may be sent to American Cancer Society, Maine Division, Inc. 52 Federal St., Brunswick, ME 04011.

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It’s a pretty somber affair so far. Deep and bassy, dark and moody, the beats follow a fairly grave pace and hover between 100 and 120 bpm and the vibe is thoughtful. Abe is writing a majority of the music, and I’m on lyrics and vocals. Some of our influences we’re channeling include Depeche Mode, Massive Attack, Russell Mills, Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, Machines of Loving Grace, Meat Beat Manifesto, among others.

We have been meeting as often as we can, working mostly on arrangement and structure right now. Abe and I have written music together before so the process is pretty smooth, especially now that we’re free of band/instrumental restrictions. I think there’s more of a sense of knowing what we’re trying to accomplish this time too, which makes things much easier. We’re both very excited about what we’ve got so far.

I will post more about the project as it comes closer to completion.

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