jons thoughts, digitalized

I woke up with beautiful face paint on my left eye and a rainbow aluminum star crown. I knew then that I love bennington parties. But I had a very unexpected hangover, as I only had a few drinks over four hours. I starved the whole day, not eating because I wasn't hungry/was slightly nauseous. Felt like a wet mop/plank of driftwood/puddle of sad/beacon of shit/unstable skyscraper. Then I went to the dining hall. What I'm trying to say is if you EVER have a hangover: lemon sorbet. I ate four bites and I was once again a man. I ate a huge bowl and I was then superman. There's magic in sorbet. I always knew it. I still have a trace of light pink face paint underneath my left eye, starting at my tear duct, tracing its down along the bags of my eyes, then swooping its way back up towards my temple. It looks like I scratched myself. I didn't. But I had a lovely night with friends.

so i owe two good things since i missed yesterday:

1) not crashing after driving around in seas of black iceeeee

2) la boheme tomorrow at the mettt

YES. just finished a draft of a 7 page paper applying aristotles idea of tragic hero to medea.
The title: Hamartia, Hamartia, Hamartia!

See yall in TWO DAYS.

<3333 jb

so...

great schedge for the spring:

-Directing
-Viewpoints
-The Experimental Century (experimental music composition intensive)
-Conceptions and Misconceptions (an education class about children's )
-Cello Lessons

PLUS i'm starting a 20 person experimental dinner theatre troop to perform in the dining hall. I'm hoping to hold a discussion forum about this idea in drama meeting next week. i'll keep you updated.

-in other news, I'm working for the Studio Theatre in washington DC this winter, working on their production of the seafarer along with some PR and advertising stuff. AND i'll be there for Obama's inauguration! ZING. If any of you would like to come, you can probs stay with me and we can celebrate this historic day.

-How are you? Let's meet over thanksgiving. For real.

-ITS COLD. learning to deal with this weather again brings me back to many memories from winters past. does this happen to you during season transitions too?

-i'm playing the very challenging character of Madame Rosepettle in Kolpit's Oh Dad, Poor Dad... . The fact that my director is not very competent and does not understand process doesn't help and is making me wonder if I should have agreed to be in this project. Oh well, at least I've learned to walk in heels..

I hope your life-paths are leading to good places. Call me.

your friend-
jon

this weekend-

-endless beautiful sun, grass, fun on the lawn
-went to the dollar store got so many great things for $1!!!
-worked on super cool dance piece
-played kickball for 1.5 hours and lOVED IT
-also frisbee, lots
-had dark green feet after
-some housing drama for next year, but it will be fine. almost positively having a single, though.
-got recruited to sing backups/lead dance moves in a ballin aretha franklin cover band for battle of the bands
-WON BATTLE OF THE BANDS AND WILL BE PLAYING A SHOW WITH THE FIERY FURNACES ON MAY 17TH
i.e. you all should come up and visit then or another weekend in may! i want to share all of this greatness with you/show you my life and friends here!

many many many love particles-
jb

i spent 7 hours composing a two page duet and shit REPEATS ITSELF. thats ok, i love it. kind of therapeutic actually.

my room is SO CLEAN. ecstasy becomes me...

itunes on shuffle, tracks from my time and motion practice cd keep coming up. WHYYY. i feel like someone cut off a digit and told me i will never see it again. more like an arm. or a vital organ. seven months working on that shit. were going touring in the summer right? RIGHT? I LOVE YOU?

( MORE DRAMA )

taking naps

eating lots of bannanas

learning cello

over scheduled, but ok

i was invited to a lunch with the president of my college, liz coleman (apparently at school events she drinks large cups of vodka with food coloring to disguise it as wine.) and i have NO idea why and NO ONE else i know of was invited.

youre all cordially invited to visit me at camp bennington. i miss you all.

will be home in a week and a half. anyone else?

( taking playwriting class )

excerpt from 'barefoot in public' a working autobiography by jonathan b.

a story about a condom

several days ago it did come to pass that because of significant buildup of recyclables in the garage that my father was forced to make his biannual trip to the dump. i, in the mid-conversation with the lovely and fair megan, who was over to tea, etc., did so happen to be the son upon whom he did call for assistance in moving all of this shit into the van. and so i, somewhat unwillingly, did make my way to the site of this mayhem at which the car stood idling, trunk open, by the garage door, recyclables strewn about and the back two seats of the van folded down upon themselves as if they had been punched in the naughty bits. casually, by rolling my eyes and giving general 'tude', i attempted to convey to him how he did inconvenience me by forcefully extracting me from the house and, therefore, away from my beloved maiden, whom, not long after my departure, was surely quick to be engaged in uncomfortable conversation by my mother.

however as it turned out, my feelings would shortly there after take a 'one eighty' and hence i would become grateful for my presence at the grand loading-up after all. for as i did await my father to hand me a bucket of recyclables i did spy, tucked in between the two halves of the folded-down back seats, a square-inch, crumpled, turquoise wrapper of some kind that someone must have- OH GOODNESS ME! in an instant i grabbed the wrapper, tucking it stealthily into my pocket and praying to jesus god, in whom i only believe in dire times like these, that father had not spied this unclean square of blue because he was fully mentally consumed with gathering the recyclables.

after i did finish paying my dues to my father in the currency of manual labor, i hurried in to the kitchen where, as i presumed, my maiden was engaged in uncomfortable conversation with my mother. i carried on with them in their conversation for quite some time, all the while submerged in my ever-augmenting unease regarding the unspeakable finding of mine. finally after what seemed to be a fortnight, mother did exit the room for several seconds to attend to the canine who was pawing the door in hopes to take a leak. in her leave, i compressed this story of mine up to this point into approximately four seconds and did inform my maiden of the goings on of the ten minutes past, showing her, in a flash, my discovery, before eagerly reaffixing it to the very darkest part of my trouser pocket. mother, entering once more, did make us the objects of her uncomfortable conversation for what seemed to be another three of four fortnights all the while us both submerged in twice the unease! oh what inner consternation it was!

the day did pass, and i did make my journey to work where i did make myself a male type wench for quite some time (about two or three fortnights to be exact). and at my return back home from a long days labour i did unload the trouser pockets of mine, momentarily letting the days prior events slip my memory. and then, i did feel it. its wrinkled texture, its softened edges, its turquoiseness... oh how it did beckon my grief! and so i did survey the area, making positive that i was unwatched before i faced my enemy, the decider of my fate. it was clear. and i did dig my finding from the depths of my trouser pocket, beads of perspiration forming on my forehead by this time. i uncrumbled it and lo, i did discover, looking me in the eye, a square inch, crumbled up, turquoise blue tootsie pop wrapper.

"you know what i realized?"
"what"
"that all of my life ive never seen you, only beams of light."
"what?"
"the only thing that has reached my eye has been light and sometimes an eyelash or a finger when i get poked in the eye."
"yes"
"and therefore youve never reached my eye. only the light reflecting off of you. ive never seen your face."
"but you know what my face looks like"
"do i? or am i just familiar with the light that travels from your face to my eye and then is interpurted by my brain. thats another thing."
"what"
"what if everybody sees everything differently. like what if what i think of as blue is actually what you think of as pink. or what i think of as round you think of as square, but we just use the same words for the same things because all of the words are the same in our own minds relative to each other."
"why are you making such a big deal about this?"
"because i am so in love with you and i dont even know what you look like."

i emailed ted leo after i got my litte dawn cover online just cause i felt like it and i have his email address. i wrote:

hey ted
>
> my name is jon. about two hours ago i decided that i had to record a cover of little dawn. i had a pretty crappy day and i have a million other things to get done, but right then that was what all i wanted to do. in my experience i find that the best songs i write and art i make come out of pure necessity (emotional, political, whatever). for me, this was necessary. so i plugged into my four track and had at the bloody thing. Heres the result:
>
> http://www.ourmedia.org/node/161467
>
>
>
> its sloppy but i dont like clean things anyways. i thought i should share it with you because you wrote it.
>
>
>
> jon b


He replied within EIGHT MINTUES

I just got your e-mail, and I'm on someone else's lap top with crappy
speakers, so I haven't listened to the cover yet, but I will, and in the
meantime, at the risk of getting "emo," I just wanted you to know that I
completely understand what you're saying, what you're saying is why I wrote
that song, what you're saying makes me want to pick up my own guitar as soon
as I send this e-mail, so thanks, and "blah blah." !!
--TL


OH MAN
<3<3<3
THUMPA THUMPA

that is all
jon b

so ive decided that ist friends only from here on out, kids. ill friend you if youre at all someone i know/if youre not a totally stupid dorkus.

your snooty, exclusive friend,
jon b

i had a good day overall:

a. school was whatever, but pippin rehearsal was fun. victoria says i can play the charlemagne in an automatic wheelchair with a laptop like stephen hawking. i cant wait. yess

b. mrs levit isnt going to be in school till probably after christmas break. yess

c. coffeehouse is friday. im playing a weird song with adam, and three songs with the shines. it will be pretty good i think. the only thing is that brian barone is afriad of loud noises, so hes running me through the board instead of using an actual amp. this basically means that chances rocking out are very slim, but we might lite-rock out... um, yess

d. i came home and made myself some tofu yess

e. and zuchhhiiinnniiii yess

f. my fam is out and wont be home till like 10. yesss

g. it might snow tomorrow. snow is eh, but maybe no school. that would be a yess.

h. i auditioned today and i got chosen to audition for gov skoool. im sort of excited.

even though gahl said that the program was eh, ill give it a good shot cause it would be fun anyways. also, it would offset my 2.9 gpa while applying to colleges next year. thats right, my gpa is 2.9 and i show it off it like a big girl shows off her ass. there aint nothin you or barbara lasher can do about it.

but im overdue for a shower right now

laterz,
jawn bee

ted leo was the best ever. evvvvverrrr. eeeffffffeeerrrrrr

i went with meaghan and saw kate and all her friends too. fun people, good times, lotza laffs.

even though i didnt talk to him twice and tell him i love him and give him my copy of Oedipus the king to sign, like at south street, my future hubby gave a stellar performance. and two hours of it. there is not limit to the amount of energy this man has. its so hard to believe hes my parents age. gahh.

there was this crazy bitch in the vip balcony who was drunk off her ass during "where have all the rude boys gone?" she threw up over the balcony, and the people in front of me got rather splattered. she then proceeded to throw her champagne glass over the balcony at which point i shat my pants. luckily it landed in the photographers/security section right in front of the stage and no one got hurt. needless to say, the tightass fuckers at webster security beat the living shit out of her.

afterwards i handed out flyers for tigers and monkeys. if you can help it, never get a job handing out flyers. its a lame job. i think if i say "tigers and monkeys! free show at the knitting factory!" one more time my face will fall off. eventually i resorted to saying "free paper!" nevertheless, i still had about a hundred flyers left when i was done.

afterwards, meg and i had a party at dojos. it was fun and crazy times.

my mom called me during this and yelled at the top of her lungs: "WHY ARENT YOU HOME?! WHAT THE HELL, SON! IM SO PISSED! IM SETTING MY ALARM FOR ONE AM AND IF YOURE NOT HOME BY THEN THERE WILL BE TERRIBLE CONSEQUENCES!" so we finished our drinks and ran to the path station, like two drunk or our ass cinderellas trying to make it home before the stroke of twelve. we made the path train and when it got into hoboken we booked it to the 12:05 train on the main line and barely made it. the train went for about five minutes then stopped. "um sorry, we want to fuck up your night so were stopping the train for a little bit. MUAHAHAHHAHA," said the train operator, who gave away her identity as the spawn of Satan as she fixed her hair to cover up the devil horns that poked through the top her conductors cap. much to our reluctant relief, the train started to move again about twenty minutes later, rolling us closer and closer to our ugly fate. we got into the ridgewood train station at 1:06. at this point i was pretty certain that we would make it home not too late. nevertheless, we were in a rush so we then resorted to our only way to my house from there: the incredibly over-priced, disorganized, and overall shady, ridgewood taxi. the office was dim and smoky, crowded with babyseats, maps, and a soda machine from 1925. i went up to the counter and stood on my tippy-toes. "um, can i get a cab to 465 e saddle river road?" i asked in a rushed nervosa. the cab operator, puffing at his cigar looked up and degreed my fate, "that will be thirty to forty-five minutes." meaghan and i gave each other a look that said "aw shit, were fucked for serious now." but we waited and waited for the cab and sure enough it came about a half hour later. we got in. "ok go down linwood and make a left on paramus. FLOOR IT!" i said to the driver, who had obviously been working for a good fifteen hours. going eighty miles an hour past graydon pond and vets feild i looked at my phone which updated me on how fucked i really was: it was 1:40. i told the cab driver to stop at the end of my driveway, so that his headlights would not flash into the bedroom windows and wake the family, which was hopefully sleeping soundly with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads. between being half-drunk and worried for my live, i handed him a pile of bills, which i realised later was only seven dollars, making his tip twenty cents. this was the least of my worries. i ran in the back door, meaghan close behind. i took off all my outer clothes and gave myself a quick once-over with febreeze. i ran up the stairs two at a time to discover her alarm has been blaring loudly for who knows how long. like a bomb squad in the last vital seconds, i dissembled the alarm clock with my bare hands. a great sigh of releif escaped my lungs as i watched my mother sleep like a baby. i walked downstairs and made a bowl of kix for meagan and i. "wow. we really came close to totally fucking up didnt we?" a second and a half after saying this i dropped the bowl of kix on the foor, and watched helplessly as it shattered into a thousand small bits of ceramic all over the kitchen floor.

so that was my night. what was yours like?

much love,
jon b

my day was ok

my grade as of now in calculoso is a 68.7

mrs levit says, "jon. (pronounced like a french jean)you need to come last hour see me reveiw test. you wrote your test very...you know, no good really. when you come do vwork for me, i will raise your grade few points probably yes, probably no..."

so now im stuck with her last hour tomorrow so i can hopefully pull off a C-.

for hathaway bs playwriting class we had to do a stupid assignment where we take one character from our own play and another from a classmates play and write a scene. vanessa and i had fun:


SCENE: A bus stop. 4 AM. After a smashin party in the burbs, man. And theyre both, like wasted.

Geo
Some righteous party, right man?

Root
Rightous indeed.

Geo
Where you goin man?

Root
Where am I going? Where is anyone going? I’m just on this road, and I follow it. Or maybe I wont.

Geo
Youre fucked up man.

Root
Its all relative, man. Sobriety is devil. This is the truth. This is bliss. Whats fucked up with that?

Geo
Word.

Root
What are we doing here?

Geo
I don’t even fuckin know man.

Root
(Looks around. Realising:)
Transportation. Youre either on the bus or off the bus.

Geo
I never thought of it that way. But true, so true brother.

Root
Yeah. Spare a brother a joint?

Geo
No man. I’m straightedge.

Root
Shut the fuck up.

Geo
OK. But don’t tell anyone else.

Root
Who’s there to tell, my man. Were alone in the world.

Geo
Yeah. Oh wait, except for my dog.

Root
Dog isn’t mans best friend. Dog is mans employer. (pause) Like God backwards.

Geo
Youre talking shit, you know that?

Root
Speaking of shit that I know, I know this isn’t our time around for getting on the bus.

Geo
Yeah, probably. I mean, what is time even? I don’t even know.

Root
(Lying down on the bench)
Goodnight.

Geo
(Goes to the bench and straddles Root, shaking him in great fear)
Don’t leave me, brother. Don’t go man!

Root
We’ll meet again.

Geo
Not if you like, die.

FIN

you like? looking at it from a playwriting perspective, its terrible. the characters are kind of defined, but theres not really a strong objective on either part, and the circumstances arent really clear, or important for that matter. nevertheless, i still think its funny.

VIVA LA POINTLESSNESS

oh acting class. im not gonna go into detail (largely because i dont remember all of its and its a big blur like a crazy dream) but in summary, ill just say that mrs. pero had to wipe the drool and mucus off my face about half way through.

anyone out there trying to get into gov school?
i am. for theatre. auditions monday. i aint worrying. but i might go over time. but what is time anyway? i dont even know, man.

the shines made tshirts:



theyre $8. buy one and support the culture that is indie punk rock phycedellic baby eating experimentation experience art culture

fuck the man,
jon bumblebee

i should get more sleep.

this morning on the bus i slumped over in my sleep and ended up breathing on the neck of the freshman who was sitting next to me for at least ten minutes. it was very embarassing/funny. he will never look me in the eye again.

hugh heffner was on lary king live. i rarely watch tv, and never ever ever news programs, but my mom had it on and i couldnt resist. he had his three girlfriends with him. he ranks them based on their romantic chemestry*

* see breast size

** see also willingness to fuck a 73 year olf pervert on a regular basis.

*** and pretend to like it

he used to have seven girlfriends, according to him, but he got rid of the four becasue they got boring. it would be really funny to listen in on these girls talking behind his back about him.

you guys, if i ever become anything like this man -- if i ever date three blonde, size DDD breast, size .5 dress, botox infested women at the same time -- you will know that the jon burklund as he is today, has died.

i doubt that will happen though. i like my women earthy and raw with messy hair and dirty clothes.

i wrote a song about this. its called "how i can tell hugh hefner is a closted homosexual" by jon b:

GIRLS ARE DUMB
BOYS ARE DUMB
PEOPLE ARE DUMB
DUMB DUMB DUMB

GIRLS ARE STUPID
BOYS ARE STUPID
PEOPLE ARE STUPID
STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID

GIRLS ARE UGLY
BOYS ARE UGLY
PEOPLE ARE UGLY
UGLY UGLY UGLY DUMB UGLY PEOPLE

GIRLS ARE EXPLOITED BY SOCIETY
BOYS ARE EXPLOITED BY SOCIETY
PEOPLE ARE EXPLOITED BY SOCIETY
EXPLOTIED BY SOCIETY EXPLOITED BY SOCIETY EXPLOITED BY SOCIETY WHICH IS ALSO DUMB AND STUPID

look for it on my next album.

sleepy time for me
much love from jon b

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want, either good or bad. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.

i think my least favorite day of the week is sunday.

last night was vanessas birthday potluck. it was lots of fun. i made pasta and lotza lotza zucchini.
there was so much food omgz.
we had a big neutral milk hotel/moldy peaches/ben kweller sing along and it was oh so much fun.
i love those kids.
emily bunnin, the greatest photograper ever to live, took lots of pictures and you can see what you missed here: http://www.dotphoto.com/Go.asp?l=draggskelter&P=C7FC&AID=3055243&T=1

i woke up this morning with a small zit on my neck. must be like an ingrown hair from shaving or something. no big deal. i walk downstairs and my mom sees me. no 'good morning' no 'how are you'. she goes, "whats that?"
"whats what?" i say, still rather half asleep.
"on your neck." i look in the mirror.
"its a zit, mom."
without skipping a beat, "i think its a hickey. were you making out with someone last night!?"
it looked nothing like a hickey! it was quite obviously a zit. hickeys are discolored patches of skin hovering around half a square inch. usually oval shaped. once, my friend had a hickey shaped like the mona lisa. thats another story, though.
"no mom, its a zit. if you want, i can pop if for you."
"you can tell me if you were making out with someone. was she cute???"

adopt me? anyone?

later i met up with nora for coffee. she was wearing jeans, converse, a bra, and a winter coat.

fact of the day: studies show that teenagers are more likely to do things impulsively than anyone else.

when i heard this i picked up a stapler from my desk and threw it through the window.

anyways, back to nora.
shes meeting up with a sexy twenty-something year old photographer from brooklyn on wednesday and hes gonna take her naked pix (lolz).
on wednesday im probably going to be sitting around my house clipping my toe nails (non lolz).

i wish i did something with my life. maybe ill be a gardener. i like watching things grow.
is that a quote from a movie or something? i feel like it is.
ten scene points awarded if you can help my with this.

damn this full week of school coming up. damn it to bloody hell! RAHHHHH

(insert some sort of heart-warming conclusion here)

love,
jon bizzle

today was joeys wake and it was so so so sad. id rather not talk about it in detail.

the funeral is tomorrow and i dont feel like waking up at 8 to go or aranging 'let it be' into three part harmony fifteen minutes before hand with brian barone and lou spinelli. im gonna be too sad to sing.

later tonight, i went out for coffee and saw rent with brxxkie. it was pretty sad too, i guess. but if i hear 525,600 whatevers one more time im gonna gag myself with a spoon. no one i know ever get aids, k?

then i came home and ate some really sad apple pie.

im going to bed.

your emo friend,
jon b

mmm, the delicious ever-tempting tase of procrastination.
you may ask,"but theres no school tomorrow, why is there work for job b?" and i would give you the answer, but the reality is that you dont give a rats ass what work i have to do. and thats totally ok. in fact, i dont give a rats ass about what work you have to do either, so the feeling is mutual.

now that we have that settled, i will write about my day.

apon arriving in school this morning i "casually" hung around the theatre arts room untill the cast list went up for about twenty five minutes on and off with hannah. after waiting so long i had to take a shit, so i do and by the time i came back everyone has seen and memorized the cast list. i guess thats jsut my luck.
but speaking of my luck! im charles! the king! the vicious war lord who kills thousands with his blood-thirsty brainwashed army! like george bush!
if i may take a direct quote from the cast list:
"....charles-jon burklund
charles's techno slave-josh frank..."
if anyone can help me figure out what exactly is the job and purpose of a techno slave, it would be much appreciated. nevertheless, im really excited to have a techno slave. i guess im kind of picturing some guy whos gonna follow me around going "un-ss un-ss un-ss...," but who knows what this could mean when victoria the crazy lady of the universe is directing.

today in acting class she grabbed my head and messed up my hair. afterwards the made a comment to the whole class about how she noticed that i havent washed my hair in three days. which is true. god i love that woman. not many people understand that its ok to be a dirty peice of shit.

its girl scout cookie season. if i eat one more girl scout cookie im going to spew vomitous substance everywhere. if you see me reaching for that box, i give you full permission to slap me as hard as you possibly can and say "NO JON, IF YOU DO THAT YOU WILL SPEW VOMITIOUS SUBSTANCE EVERYWHERE. YOU SAID IT YOURSELF IN YOUR LIVE JOURNAL. DONT DO IT. LOVE YOURSELF, JON. LOVE YOUR BODY." from there proceed to give me a few more whole-hearted slaps, this time while consecutively thrusting your foot mercilessly into my ass. if from there i persist in my attempt to indulge in another thin mint, or possibly a caramel delight, repeated blows to the pelvis with a croquet mallet or golf club should do the trick.

in other news, the shines had practice today. it was cold as a fuckin mother fucker in the garage, but we had a good time. we finished the recording of our somewhat new song "welcome to the show." its basically punk as hell! and i destroy the guitar with a slide at the end! listen for it! its so goddamn sonic youth of us! check the song out at www.myspace.com/theshines. i understand you have other stuff to do, its just that if you dont you are going to hell. i mean, its totally up you you.

later i met up with katey kates and we had pancakes. we heckled santa in the santa shack and schlapped each other with fish and talked about being sweedish and froze to death and had an overall good time. oh, that girl.

so the good news is that im comming home from the upstate ny family reunion death hell trap early. the bad news its because im im singing les mis stuff and 'let it be' at joeys funeral. im worried that im going to collapse in tears and not be able to sing.

oh, the amounting conflicts in of life! how they taunt me so! woooeee is meeeeeeeee!

i just need a cup of tea... and a techno slave.


love,
jon b

Joey Marquez
1989-2005

my fondest memory of joey was at hannahs party last june. he wasnt at the peak of his healt then, but he was strong enough to come. it was a costume party and he was dressed as the planters peanut guy. he had a cane, and needed help getting everywhere becasue he was weak from his treatments. he couldnt even talk too much. but you never heard a word of complaint out of this kids mouth. most of us were running all over the place and swimming, but he didnt let that get him down. he just enjoyed being around us, and we enjoyed being around him. and though he was probably in terrible physical pain, youd never know it, cause he had a smile on his face the whole time.

try to smile through the pain, my friends.

love,
jon