Resolution

Rejection is always hard to take. But I honestly think it's easier to swallow when it pushes you to the ground and kicks dirt in your face, or bitch-slaps you in the hallway before posting compromising pictures of you on the internet.
The worst rejection is courteous and apologetic: "Let's just be friends," or "We regret to inform you," or anything that precedes "gozaimasen." Always formal and polite; as empathetic eyes fall to the floor, rejection begins with an apology, and ends with a half-baked smile, or a forty degree ojigi.

My own fault though. I should have made plans sooner, shouldn't have banked so heavily on the H.I.S. penguin drones, and should have had a backup. It's probably for the better though. Guitar Hero III drops in November--just in time for Christmas with the family.

On one hand, Hidden in Plain View's premature breakup makes their sophomore release a bittersweet one, seeing as the record was released long after they parted ways. Recorded during the band's final hours, Drive-Thru records has given the band a proper send-off with Resolution. And iTunes has given it to me for free. I guess the reminder of their breakup could be a harder pill to swallow--that is, if this cd was rubbish. But it's not. It's awesome.
It's true though--in life, even when it's over, it should end with a bang, and never a whimper. Even at our very worst, I think everyone deserves their own swan song.

It's h-o-t here. All the petite Japanese women hide under sunbrellas and silk arm sleeves, while the suit & tie samurai desperately mop their foreheads in silent protest. But no one says anything. It's life, and life is uncomfortable in the summer. I take solace in knowing other places around the world haven't been so lucky--especially southern Europe, where sweltering citizens attest they are living in a "free sauna from God."

Fuck, that's pretty hot.

Ohohoh! Trouble!

I'm about to do something I've yet to do in all my posts thus far.
I'm about to break voice--the nasally whine I typically speak in, and address you, the reader.

*wipes sweaty palms on pants and stands uncomfortably at the podium*

*taps mic*

First of all, I want to thank you for stopping by Disappointed Idealist for a read. If today's not your first time, I'd also like to thank you for stopping by yesterday. And last Wednesday too. Honestly though, I'm not really sure why anybody reads this--I most certainly haven't asked you to, and your browser most certainly doesn't refresh itself. I hope you've noticed that don't write to educate or change the world, or even to change your mind. I've just been trying to kill that stuffy block of time between classes, and the clock striking 17. In the short period I've been writing from my Okayama peach box, I've been lucky enough to have a small stable of readers--most of whom, I know either personally, or pseudo-personally (Facebook/Myspace/pedestrian accidents). Recently though, the stable has started to grow into a small pasture, and I'm worried I may start missing out on getting to know people who professionally whine and rant for a living.

For those of you whom were misguided here but have never traded barbs with me over the aforementioned Facebook or Myspace, hit up my profile for the proper address, and drop me a grammatically incorrect email so we can get this testicular pain train rolling. Or what have ye. Yeah, I know, it doesn't make much sense. But I've been wanting to use "testicular" for the better part of this entire afternoon, and seeing as that time was spent teaching vocabulary for recorder finger placement, that sentence seemed like the only logical place to use it without incurring a Japanese lawsuit. Shaddup.

But if you already have the DI bookmarked or linked on the grounds that you find it even remotely readable, why not get someone else you know to bookmark or link it for me? My upcoming piece will liberally employ immature stereotypes and ungrounded reason to answer one of the most nagging questions about Japanese existance; a question that even the known universe has given up on and taken to strong drink over.
And I want people to read it, because I know I'm finally right...and it feels fuckin' awesome.

So lastly, in a rare gesture of goodwill, I'd like to leave you with a little sonic nugget of gratitude. Back at NMC, on the day that Leaving Through the Window changed my life, I thought I'd be listening to Drive-Thru bands forever. New Found Glory, Fenix TX (rip), Allister (rip), Senses Fail, Day at the Fair (rip), Hidden in Plain View (rip)...Drive-Thru could do no wrong. Then came along Steel Train. HelloGoodbye. And The Rocket Summer--and a whole host of other safe, overproduced, watered-down indie rubbish, and I believed the label was hopelessly lost. But just the other day, I stumbled across a free Drive-Thru sampler via a slick digital delivery system called Echosystem. And I can't stop listening to it. Holy shit. Someone with a pair of ears and half a brain back at the DT helm?
Again, it's free, they don't seem to spam, and while the sampler contains several of the aforementioned bands, it also has a sweet classic cut from Houston Calls, the new HIPV demo, along with the brilliant new single from the upcoming An Angle album--three solid tracks (complimenting eight other consecutive winners) that have already made my summer. I take careful pride in my mixtapes. And so this was like the next best thing--it's like I made it for myself, out of songs that I'd never heard before. So download the sampler, and don't take it off your iPod until September.

Don't like it? Eat me. And don't say I never tried to do nothing for you.



Almost there. It ends tonight.