Zebras are Reactionaries, Antelopes are Missionaries...

Someone told me it's all happening at the zoo.
I do believe it, I do believe it's true.
Not to sound emo, but music's my only friend. I went to Rozy's party yesterday. After Shohei and Emily and Monica and The Attic Sounds and Rozy and Megan played, I went up. I'll admit I was nervous, but for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't nervous because the spotlight would be on me. Frankly, I love that. It was the I feared they'd overanalyze my songs, like I do. I tell people too much. I trust them too easily. And then I write a melody and put down some words, and realize that it can be interpreted to be my feelings on the latest drama, which it's often not, but the sad part is that I realize these things first, and end up not playing the song. I was going to play 5 originals yesterday. I ended up only playing 3. I also played 5 covers. It's a fair statement to say that every good song has been written, but, then again, John Mayer's still cranking out things, Paul McCartney's got a good song every so often, and Brian Wilson can write three notes that pwn my entire body of work. And he probably wouldn't say pwn. And it's not just melodically, but lyrically. And there are few better lyricists than the irreprehensible Paul Simon:

Time it was,

And what a time it was,

It was...

A time of innocence,

A time of confidences.

Long ago...it must be....

I have a photograph

Preserve your memories,

They're all that's left of you.

Sheer genius. John Mayer's lyrics are usually amazing, Elvis Costello's got some fantastic stuff, but this is the highest you can get. It's poetry. Dickinson's got nothing on this:

Old friends,

Old friends,

Sat on their park bench

Like bookends.

A newspaper blown through the grass

Fall on the round toes

On the high shoes

Of the old friends.

Old friends,

Winter companions,

The old men
Lost in their overcoats,

Waiting for the sunset.

The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,

Settle like dust
On the the shoulders
Of the old friends.
Can you imagine us
Years from today,

Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy,

Old friends,

Memory brushes the same years,

Silently sharing the same fear....

It's not long until school lets out. 24 more days in school. It's a scary thought, knowing there's two years and 24 days until I'm legally done with school. I'm just getting accustomed to this school, and to this year's classes and teachers, and POOF.

Good things about next year:

• Being an upperclassman/Seniority
• No 0 Period P.E.
• Madame Gutleben/Not doing anything in French class
• Driver's Licence
• APUSH
• A job
• More privileges

Bad things about next year:

• Still not being a Senior
• 0 Period Chem
• Madame Gutleben/Not learning anything in French class
• Gas prices
• APUSH homework
• A job
• More responsibilities

  I want to write. I don't want to be a writer. I want to write some piece of music or poetry or fiction that's so unbelievably emotional, so powerful and understated, that I can't believe I wrote it. I have the tools, all I need is the inspiration.

-Jason

At The Zoo

It's Getting Better All The Time

Today was good.
In fact, it was damn near grand.
It was the kind of day that was exciting, even though nothing happened. We were all a little jealous of Brendan and Nathan, because they saw Mike Dirnt [of Green Day] walking down Park Street yesterday after school. We then became mad at them, because they didn't say anything to him. That was exciting.
Kelly is now the interim President of Drama Club. Donny has stepped down, partially because he's not in the drama class anymore, and partially because his schedule's been hectic. When we hold elections next week, everyone will vote for Kelly to be next year's president as well, and I'll run for Vice President, because I'll have seniority next year (technically it's Juniority, but that just sounds stupid) and because I love drama (the acting kind, not the school kind).
We worked on Alky in Drama class, and all [three of] the freshman and some of the stupid sophomores are working themselves into a shit because they think they'll be so cool if they're actually drinking on stage.

Summer school aside, I'm pretty psyched for summer vacation. The day after we get out of school, I'm leaving for Cleveland for a week. I'm seeing Fastball (remember them?) at the Alameda County fair July 1st, Elvis Costello [for the first time] and The Police [for the 2nd time] at Concord (excuse me, Sleep Train) Pavillion on July 16, and John Mayer at Shoreline Ampitheater on July 26.
I'm having a bit of trouble psyching myself out for The Police concert, mostly because I've seen them already on this tour and I know what to expect (the set list, the lights, etc.). I am, however, unbelievably pumped to see Elvis Costello. Like, supremely pumped. He's mastered every genre of music that exists (because rap is not music). He's done classical, rock, disco, techno, pop, country, baroque-pop, funk, everything. He's a musical encyclopedia.
I'm also supremely juiced for John Mayer, partially because I'm taking three of my best friends with me. Chris is for-reals a John Mayer fanatic, Gina's never been to a concert and loves JM, and Emily also loves John Mayer (she almost went to see him with me at the Bridge School Benefit concert in October, but had to stay home), so this is to make up for that, and because she's awesome.
I'm so psyched, I'm already having dreams at night about the concert, just like when I psyched myself out for Disneyland and had two months worth of Disneyland dreams leading up to the actual trip.

But seriously, folks, Mike Dirnt! Holy crap. I probably would've shit myself. Actually, probably not, but I would've at least asked him for an autograph and a picture with him.
Come to think of it, I may have seem him on Park St. on a different occasion. Apparently he's a regular at the Peet's, so chances are I saw him, thought he looked familiar, and carried on with my life.

Oh, well.

-Jason

A Simple Hello.

Today was pretty good.
And I realized something.
My real, true, close friends are the ones who say "hi" to me when they see me. Even just passing me in the halls. I realize these people are the friends I have no complaints about, the friends who are nice and sweet and smart, and who unload their drama on me, because they know I'm a good listener and they can get good advice from me. They are the friends who keep their plans, and who make plans, just to hang out. We share secrets, we cry on each other's shoulders, and we just talk about what's going on in the moment. The friends who ask me to sing because they like my voice, not because they like a certain song. The friends who ask me to perform at events, not because a full band cancelled, but because they like my music. These are the friends I really love, and they are the people care who enough to say "hi," without anyone having said "hi" first.
I love these friends to death.

As far as my other friends go, I'm trying to get out of any label that's been stuck on me. I'm spending a little more time thinking before I speak, and a little more time listening and really comprehending what people say, so I can bring these things up later and share a nostalgic laugh. I want enough respect that these people will say "hi" as well.

And don't get any ideas that I'll like you just because you say "hi" to me. If I didn't like you before, chances are I won't change my mind because of a simple hello. It's not a magic wand that can be waved, it's just a signal that my friends give to show their appreciation.
It's amazing what a simple hello can do.



I had to make up the English portion of the California High School Exit Exam (CAHSEE) today. As soon as the bell rang, I went straight to the cafeteria, and sat there for half an hour before Mrs. Porter finally shut up about why we need #2 pencils. I finished the first multiple-choice question and the essay portion in about forty-five minutes. I took a nap for over an hour before I heard Mrs. Porter say, "For those of you still working on the test, you have half an hour left."
Half an hour later, we got a break. A five-minute break. We sat back down and took the second multiple-choice section, which took me less than 30 minutes. I continued onto the questionaire ("What do you think you will do if you don't pass the CAHSEE?" It's impossible to fail), turned in my test, and was permitted to leave. Sweet Jesus.
I went to the last ten minutes of history, then choir.
Thank God we did sectionals in choir. We [the guys section] sang through the material once and goofed off while the girls kept singing. The guys' part to "O Fortuna" isn't hard, no more than four notes, so we were home free for 86 minutes.
In drama, we cast Alky, the play about teenagers at an alcohol-filled party. Instead of being cast as Tay, the persuasive alcoholic who sets his girlfriend up to be raped, or as Ira, the musician who's been drinking beer since he was little, I'm in the background as Kid #2, which is fine. I'm glad I don't have to say any of those god-awful lines ("A brewski for me-ski!"). And the best part is the ending, in which four people die and one person is permanently mentally damaged. Three of the people are hit and killed by the narrator. Spoiler alert! It's one of those plays with a moral, so it's not like the audience doesn't see that coming.

I'm going to start analyzing and explaining my songs tomorrow. I'm sure you can't wait.

-Jason

The Aura Of Happiness, Vanished?

It's Emily's birthday.
She's 18.
That got me thinking. At midnight, childhood disappears. Forever. The moment it's your eighteenth birthday, any thoughts of you as a child instantly vanish. No more "You don't know anything. You're just seventeen." Now you get the "Well, she is eighteen, I think we can trust her."
How weird does that feel? One second, you're a child (albeit a teenager), the next you're [legally] an adult. You can have sex with other adults and neither of you can be tried (sans rape). You can vote. You can buy cigarettes (but why would you?). Realistically, though, the birthday is just the celebration of having not died for the past 365 days. And Emily's celebrating having not died for the past 6,574 days.
And the day you turn eighteen, the wonderful U.S. Military sends you a giant packet of crap about why you should join the army, navy, coast guard, army reserve, navy seals, the circus, et cetera. Because you're eighteen now, you're obviously mature enough and qualified to hold and operate a gun and kill people for sport. You're obviously more mature than you were yesterday, when you were a know-nothing seventeen-year-old. Here. Have a beer. Oh, that's right. You're not 21. Well then, just have this rifle, this ammo, and this box of active grenades. Have fun, try not to get hurt. You're still young. You shouldn't be drinking. Just go kill innocent people in the meantime.
Seriously, Army?
You're seriously going to do that?
Boy. I really don't feel safe right now. Not that I don't trust Emily's judgement. She's smart enough not to join the army and she's not one to be near guns. Except water guns. Just because you're an adult doesn't mean you're grown up, right? Right.



I'm starting to enjoy math class. It's an easy period to nap in and not miss anything. She usually just makes Corny Indiana Jokes the whole time.
I'm almost tired of history class. At this point, she's just repeating herself when it comes to directions for the research paper.
I'm about to crack in english class. I just can't take it anymore. Pardon my french, but we're not retarded, you nasal-voiced asswipe. And I've had it with Nick. For reals. Wipe that stupid grin off your face and contribute to humanity. Can you do me a favor and not be a dick?
I'm getting kinda bugged in French class. We're doing waaay too much, but maybe it's because she knows that we won't learn as much in "Madoom's" class next year.
I'm pretty tired of choir. I'm actually glad I'm not doing it next year. Hidalgo's just too quiet when he talks, and when we don't hear him, he flips a shit and yells at us: "Three rows, ladies and gentlemen. Three rows. Three rows!" It's enough to drive someone mad.
Drama's still fun, though.



I did a bit of thinking over the weekend, and I figured that it was just a phase I was going through, and I don't like her like that anymore.
But I talked to her today, and I realized "No, I still really like her. A lot."
And I guess I'll just have to wait until her phase is over.



To my friends: I'm tired of going along with the "awkward" thing. I'm just tired of it. It's a role I've fallen into, like "annoying," back in elementary school. Sure, I might have some awkward moments, but who the fuck doesn't? I'm tired of some of you being a bitch to me "because it's fun" or because I "won't argue back." One of these days, real soon, I will. Stop groaning at everything I say that could possibly be a double-entendre, especially when I don't mean it that way. Stop holding something that happened a year ago over my head. Stop being a shit about it. What's done is done. Stop interrupting me to talk with someone else about a youtube video of a cat falling asleep while I'm in the middle of a story. Stop making me be the guy you invite to your house only because everyone else ditched you. Stop making me change my plans so we can all do something, then change your mind at the very last minute, so that I have to re-rearrange. Stop thinking I'm stupid because I had a terrible math teacher a couple years back and therefore are currently in geometry. Don't be nice to me only when I remind you I got you John Mayer tickets. Don't take everything I say so seriously, because when I am serious, you might just think I'm kidding.
Fucking enough already. I might be a little younger than you, but I'm old enough to know when people are being total assholes.
I have to put up with this on a daily basis. A lot of times the only person I like is myself.
And people wonder why I'm cocky.
This doesn't apply to all of you. Just some of you.
I love you all dearly, but this has got to stop.
Glad to get that off of my chest.


Happy Birthday, Emily.
You're the best. And none of that applies to you.

-Jason

The Truth Box, Part One

I conformed.
I got a Truth Box for my myspace.
Here's what I got, along with my responses to them:

ive always found you a lil bit annoying
First off, kudos on the spelling, punctuation, and capitalization. You clearly have absolutely no time in your day to hit the SHIFT, apostrophe, and t & e buttons. Anyway, you're just a little too generic. How am I annoying?

you're annoying because you're hella arrogant and think too much about yourself. you think you're hella good at everything and you always have to brag about every little thing. honestly thats you're only problem cause you're a good guy, you just gotta lay off yourself.
Whoever this is has learned the apostrophe well, but they're still shaky on the capitalization. Finally, some constructive criticism. I do think about myself alot, but perhaps with Soulja Boy ruling the charts, the economy tanking with gas prices peaking, and with my friends' low self-esteem, the only person I can turn to is myself. I do think I'm pretty good at a lot of things because someone has yet to show me up (except Lisa, but that's okay because she's cool). If you're going to be in the entertainment business, you have to hold yourself highly, or else you'll be squished. I brag about things because I try to make each day spectacular, and I'd like to share it with people.

s***** has a much better chance with a**** than you, and i know that for a fact. also you're not very good at guitar at all or any other instrument. and you're a really bad singer. but you're a good person so thats a start.
I'm done with grammatical checks. Humanity has failed me.
Okay. So maybe he does. Why be a shit about it and rub it in my face? Why not let a boy dream?
I'm not good at guitar? I may not be Eddie Van Halen, but I'm sure as hell better than you. You'd have to try really hard to play guitar for eight years and suck. It's like not being able to add in 10th grade. I can't play any other instruments? Then why do I play piano for choir? Why am I probably ten times better than you? I'm a bad singer? Tell that to the directors of the 15+ musicals I've been in, along with the directors of two award-winning choirs. I'm not trying to be cocky, I'm just trying to prove you wrong. And I think I'm winning.

you're always trying to "one up" people and its really annoying cause you're not very talented at anything except for being annoying.
If I've one-upped you, it's probably because I'm trying to boost my self-esteem while you spend precious energy trying to make me feel like crap.

you've been an amazing friend to me over the years! you're are so fun to hang out with and you can always make me laugh. Everyone should bow down to this god.
Thank you! Chances are, you're just as amazing as a friend. As far as bowing down goes, you don't need to actually bow. I'd just like a little more respect, to make up for assholes like the above few people.

I think you're a good person. I wish you would sing more often. You're probably going to guess who sent this.
I'm actually not sure who sent this, but thank you. I should sing more often. Right now I'm getting over a cold, but I'll start up again soon.

I think Jason is HELLLLLLLLA tight i actually once took a video of him singing and playing the piano on my phone cuz he is that raw. hes fuckin hilarious and he knows sooooooo much about the beatles (more than me which is weird) so if you hated on him/his musical abilities maybe you should get a life and learn what real music is like cuz you obviously dont know. I LOVE YOU JASON!!!!!!
I love you too, Darrah.

your song is great.
I'm assuming you're referring to "Back In Your Boat." I rather like that one. Not lyrically, but musically. The verses are straight-up Billy Preston, and the chorus would fit in on Music From Big Pink by The Band. The lyrics were my true feelings for that person at the time. I don't much care for the lyrics, but I don't know of anything else I could've written to that melody.
If you're not referring to that one, I'll just assume you're referring to another one of my songs. The ones I perform publicly are the ones I like, so thank you. I like it too.

you are extremely cokcy and arrogant, and its an embaressment that you have been playing guitar for however long youve been playing
I really don't think I'm that cokcy. My cockyness and arrogance are just to make up for a few minor insecurities. For instance, I think my nose is a little too big. I also don't like the fact that with age I'm losing my vocal range. It's also upsetting that I'm still failing math. It's a pet ego, really. Most of what I proclaim myself excellent at is usually pretty sarcastic, like "I just figured out the guitar part to this one Belle and Sebastian song, so now I've completely mastered the guitar."
Is anyone really like that?
It's an embarrasment that I've been playing guitar for eight years? What the fuck? How is that an embarrasment? Is John Mayer an embarrasment? He's been playing for ten more years than I have. Is Eddie Van Halen an embarrasment? He's been playing since the 60's, at least. Were Stevie Ray Vaughan and Jimi Hendrix embarrasments? They played for most of their lives. I think what you mean to say is "It's an embarrasment that you've been playing for eight years and are only at your current skill level." That's also a load of crap. Try playing guitar. Chances are, if you come close to my skill level, it'll sure take more than eight years.
Oh, and your spelling is embaressing.

you don't suck, whoever wrote those things are idiotic
you have a great voice and are incredibly funny
ignore those comments :)
anyone who could play guitar like you is worth spending time with
Thanks. You're a good person. Not someone wasting precious breath (oh, what a shame) trying to put me down for your own sick pleasure. Thank you a lot. Emily, I'm guessing.

This is what I've got so far. Call me cocky, but I'd rather call [most] of these people ignorant. They'll probably grow up, by a gun, vote Republican, and perish in the great Cheeseburger Famine of 2034.

*sigh*

-Jason