It's about time.

So here's an update. Not that I have anything too specific to say or anything... I just thought perhaps it was about time for a new post. So I guess I'll do a sort of "State of the Mooney" address. Remember to only clap when the little light comes on and it's politically in your favor to do so.

New York is looming. While I love it with that half love-half loathe that has been described by others so well, it's a pretty intimidating city. There's kind of this, "If I flinch they'll kick my ass." fear about the place in general. It feels kind of exhilarating until, of course, I flinch. Let me clarify... I am decidedly going, but I've got nerves. I really hope I get hired. It would be very nice to have a paycheck to offset that cost of living a bit, and make me feel like a little bit less of a tourist.

You'd think at this point (moving across the country in just over a month) I would ease up a little about girls. I mean, really, are you gonna start a relationship at this point? Of course not. But of course I'm still crushing on her like a little boy... I'm pathetic. And she's soooo indie. My love of Bon Jovi spells disaster for me, I'm sure of it. I don't have a prayer to live on and I'm not even close to halfway there.

I've got this obsession with buying gear, but I need capital, and badly. Come on Kellen just give me the phone number already. Do you know how much money I could make on 8 Hammond Organs? Lots. More than enough to say... survive in New York without a paycheck for 3 months. Oh, analog project starts soon with Jason. That will be very fun. Oh how I love old school recording. I haven't gotten to really nerd-out in so long too. It's about time.

What else? Oh, work. I'm flat out sick of Velour. In the core of my soul. Al hasn't mixed in like 3 weeks and I'm losing my mind. I'm pretty sick of Heritage too, a warning to Jason. If I sell these organs I may just quit all my jobs at the end of April.

That seems like enough, especially since nearly all of it was complanatory. I don't even know if that's a word (I was thinking I could conjugate complain like explain). Perhaps Jen or Liz could fill me in on whether I was right or not.

Capote, Nachos, and Girls.

For your entertainment/consideration: 3 random musings of mine.

Capote was good. I liked the sound design a lot. Most sound designers like mostly action movies and such on account of the explosions and such, but I thought Capote and Walk the Line were the two best sound films I've seen this year. And did Phillip Seymore Hoffman desreve the Oscar. Damn straight he did. Joaquin Phoenix will get another shot, although I'm sure he cried.

I really feel like nachos... not even good nachos. 7-11 nachos. With not but cheese and tomatoes and lots of both. This is a 70% intensity craving. Really strange too.

My problem with girls is not so much not being able to ask them out. While the pre-phone call experience is arduous, maybe even tortuous for me, the actual call usually goes medium well to good. It's when they tell me they can't go because of whatever reason. I really have a hard time believing them. Not that I don't believe them, but after all the courage-mustering it takes. A "No." under any circumstance is a nearly fatal blow. It is so hard to ask her out again... or really any female to tell you the truth. If I ask a girl out a second time after an "I can't", no matter how legitimate that "I can't" might be, I'm probably crushing on her pretty hard and just can't give up hope until the 2nd, "I can't". A 3rd is pretty much unheard of. I admire Yancy's resolve with "S". I pretty much crawl under a rock to die after strike 2.

Ready for the official announcement?

I'm moving to New York City in late May for an internship and potential job at Avatar Studios in New York. It's one of the largest and most legitimate facilities on the East coast. With 5 world class studios and possibly the best large live room in the world, it... well, it rocks.

So everyone come visit me and have good times. I'm psyched and am anxious to prove myself a valuable asset to the staff. There's only a few problem as I can see. Problem number one: How do I avoid buying wonderful Pizza every day? Problem number two: How do I avoid falling for a beautiful Broadway hopeful? Problem number three: How do I remind myself that the above concerns are actually problems?

Just turn it sideways, Celloooh...

I'm gonna rent a cello and teach myself to play. I've wanted to do this for years and at last, it's time. I'm gonna be rocking the cello before you know it. Roommates, prepare to be annoyed.

100dB SPL.

I love ultra-compressed shimmeringly hi-fidelity music like that of say, Peter Gabriel who's 2-disc compliation "hit/miss" I bought today. I played it at full today in my car. Which I estimate was nearby the threshold of pain (100-120dB SPL). It was so delightfully loud and yet astonishingly clear, especially for a CD (which contarary to popular myth/advertising is not a high fidelity medium). My thanks to Adam for inspiring this purchase with his inclusion of "Games without Frontiers" on a spontaneous playlist yesterday afternoon. I'd almost forgotten how very much I like Peter Gabriel. I still love Phil Collins though and as far as I'm concerned, Genesis was just as good with both singers. That's just my humble opinion though. And yes, I'm a huge audio nerd.

Happy Dirty Indeed.

I had a pretty good birthday. A pretty good Salt Lake day (considering I'm out of practice), a good nap, and a good dinner with lots of people I haven't seen in way too long. And Katie Bug camre over and I actually got to have real talk with someone about this mess I call my life. I needed that, and in some ways that was the best birthday present. But the not snowing was right up there too. When it snowed last night I was sure today would be tragic at best. But it was better. It was really quite nice. With that all said:

Improvements to be made for next year...

1. A girlfriend? Well, a brother can hope right?
2. No singing in of "Happy Birthday" in French or any other language besides English. At least not by a mediocre baritone. Emily pays for that one.
3. More cake.
4. Some Rock & Roll. Perhaps of the Brobecks variety.

Your g-string is too loose.

I actually said this to a kid today. It was his first guitar lesson and instead of using technical terms like sharp and flat I start out with tight and loose. Trouble is his dad was sitting in and cracked up. While I didn't mean it like that, the humor wasn't lost on me and I too laughed. But then the kid looked perplexed and asked what was so funny. I deferred to the dad, who deferred to me and then I looked at him sternly and re-deferred. The dad said "Nothing". The kid halted inquiry but was clearly unsatisfied with that answer. He'll probably go ask his friends at school what's so funny about a loose G-string. Then he'll come back and tell me I'm an imature, sick minded individual. Which I am.

Just one of those moments in learning guitar that you never forget. Your first G-String joke.