Well, except for the “Random Notes” section, I think I’m done with my redesign and re-organization of my website. I’ve redone every page, and though there are a couple of minor bugs left to fix, I think I’m mostly done.

Next I’m going to finish my first batch of essays for the “Random Notes” section, so I can get that up, and then I’m going to redesign all the merchandise.

No, I don’t have too much time on my hands, or anything.

Ladies, wanna help out and keep me occupied? No? Well, it was worth a shot.

Remember, when life hands you a lemon, that’s your chance to find your arch nemesis and squirt some citrus juice in his (or her) eyes. Always good for the soul.

Jess

P.S. Now I can start writing in my blog about non-work and non-website related topics again. Yay me!

Well, the updates are happening. Pics are done (new ones will come soon), and most of the pages are updated and streamlined. Still working on “Random Notes,” “CDs,” and “Info.” But those will be done soon.

Come back often, check it out, and be sure to sign in the guestbook and guestmap!

Jess

Okay, so I lied about the daily updates. Sorry.

I just got back from New Orleans a few days ago. Awesome. I’ll be writing more about that soon.

I just took over website management from my good friend Herbert Midgley. Although he’s far better at it than I, I just like to tinker with things continually. And it’s not fair to expect him to do that.

So, I’m learning how to create and maintain a website. Never really done it before. It’s very time-consuming, I’m finding out.

So, over the next week or so, things will keep changing, and there will probably be a lot of links that don’t work at first. Keep coming back, and it will all be fixed soon.

Jess

It’s raining right now, and this is the time I love having a tin roof. There are very few things in life I find more relaxing than the sound of rain on a tin roof.

Well, everything seems to be working out at Pat O’Brien’s. I didn’t blow them away on my opening weekend, but I didn’t embarass myself, either. They’re flying me out to New Orleans this weekend, and I am so incredibly excited. I’ve always wanted to go, and not only am I going, but I’m playing on Bourbon Street! And I’m getting paid to do this!

I wish that I was going with at least one friend, though. It won’t be quite as much fun by myself. But I’m hoping that if things work out as well as I think they could, that I can make another trip somewhere down the road.

I’ve lost another friend to Windows XP. Just when I was finally starting to convince all my friends of the innate superiority of Apple Computers, Windows came out with their first stable operating system since DOS (which I still think was a fabulous program). I still think Apple Computers are better (though I’ll be the first to admit they’re a lot more expensive), but without all the bugs of Windows to point out, it’s going to be harder to preach the Gospel according to Macintosh.

I’d sworn off dating strippers, since my last experience with one was so disastrous and painful. But now I’m remembering why I started in the first place; when you work at night, it’s really, really hard to find someone with a compatible schedule. And strippers keep pretty much the same hours as I do. Of course, they all have kids, and that can be tough. And right now, I’m too poor to be dating anybody, and dating strippers is expensive. But still, the prospect is starting to look enticing once again.

I want to build a castle. No, make that a Castle, with a capital “C.” And I want to build it on the top of a hill in the Hill Country of Texas, close enough to Austin and San Antonio that I can still gig there. Most people want their own house, but I want a castle. With secret passageways, and possibly an underground lake (a pond would probably do) where I could play “Phantom of the Opera.” Not that there would be that much opera going on. No moats, though. They stink. And if my castle ever becomes haunted, then I can call in the Scooby-Doo gang to reveal that it’s just Old Man Withers scaring everybody. More on this at a later date.

Well, I’m going back to practicing now. Talk to you all soon,

Jess

Okay, sorry about the long absence in my blog. Here’s the basics.

I got fired from “Howl at the Moon.” First time I’ve ever been fired.

A month ago, I was working my ass of, and I felt I was doing quite well. In fact, I was a little overworked. But the compliments kept rolling in from customers, and the tips were coming in real well, and I was on top of the world.

Well, the new entertainment manager of “Howl” decided that I have no talent. He’s been giving me advice that made no sense anyway, but I followed it because he was the boss. In a situation like that, I smile and nod, and do what the man says; after all, the paychecks come through him. Truth is, he’s a lousy musician that thinks he’s a bad-ass. And on trumpet, he is. But as a singer and vocalist? Not so much.

But all is not lost; I’m on track (though nothing’s set in stone) to start at “Pat O’Brien’s” in a couple of weeks. It’s another piano bar, in fact, part of a much more well known and illustrious chain, based out of New Orleans. The gig is very different, and I’m a little nervous, but I’m also looking forward to it. And from what I hear, they are much more loyal. And that’s something I highly desire.

That’s been the focus of my life for the last few weeks, and I didn’t want to say anything until the smoke cleared.

But for all you faithful readers, the Jester Journals are back online. Expect daily updates!

Jess

Wow. This has been one helluva night.

My career has taken an unexpected turn. Not for the better, possibly, but not necessarily for the worse. More on that, when the dust settles.

In my stupor, I have been distracting myself by reading Chuck Palahniuk books. That man is seriously twisted. His insights into life are undeniable, but I always feel bizarrely disoriented after reading his work for any length of time. Much like watching “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”

And now I have to get ready for church.

What a life.

Jess

Sometimes the news is a little less than accurate. Not necessarily in a malicious way, but by journalists who don’t truly understand what it is they’re saying.
I just saw the headline “AIDS TURNS A CHILD INTO AN ORPHAN EVERY 14 SECONDS.” Now it seems unlikely to me that AIDS works like clockwork, waiting 14 seconds, then killing somebody else. But that’s what the headline said. For that matter, it seems that it’s the same child being turned into an orphan over and over again.
Sucks to be him (or her).

Now, we all know what they’re trying to say. But is it too much to ask for trained professionals (most of whom have degrees in this field) to know what it is they’re saying? And to do it accurately?

Some other headlines that caught my eye...

“U.S. TO TRY MIDEAST DIPLOMACY AGAIN.” Ooh, that’s new. Has there been a time in the last 30 years when that wasn’t true?

“ARMED GANGS THREATEN MEXICAN TURTLES.” Do I really need to say anything about that? The visual alone keeps me cracking up.

“RUSSIAN SPACE ENGINEERS EAGER TO JOIN U.S.” Well, quite possibly, but I think the story meant to say they’re wanting to work with NASA on the manned Mars mission.

“DOCTORS REMOVE 175 POUND TUMOR FROM WOMAN.” Now, there’s nothing wrong grammatically with that headline. I’m just thinking “OUCH!!!!!” Her tumor weighed more than me! After the surgery, she only weighed 88 pounds. Damn.

“FUEL CELL TECHNOLOGY HAS MILITARY USES.” And what technology have we developed that doesn’t?

“NEW INTERNET VIRUS SPREADING FAST.” As opposed to all of those that spread really, really slowly?

Well, enough news for now. I’m going to read a book and catch some shut-eye.

Remember - if you’re too drunk to drive, take somebody else’s car.

Jess

There is a problem with male/female communications. Some of you may have noticed this once or twice in your life.

It can begin as early as the first conversation:

Man says “Hi.”
Woman says “Hi.”

By now, both sides have received mistaken impressions. The woman is thinking, “Hey, he wants to talk to me.” The man is thinking “She said hi. I bet she thinks I’m hot. We might have sex.”

The truth is more mundane, but who wants to hear that?

Sadly the level of miscommunication and self-delusion rarely improves.

This is partly because we hear what we want to hear. We’ll spin anything to try to fit what we want life to be, or sometimes what we’re afraid it might be. Someone once told me that everybody is the star of their own drama. The older I get, the more truth I see in that statement. We make more of some things than they really are, and ignore the things we don’t want to see.

I think the truth is not that we can’t understand the other sex. It's that we don’t really try. We want them to understand us. We want them to play by our rules, and play our game. We want them to have a leading role as the romantic interest in our drama. We don’t want to star in theirs.

Then again, sometimes you find out you’re just the comic relief.

I’m just gotten out of a really, really bad relationship. Well, it wasn’t really a relationship, but I wanted it to be. And sometimes deluded myself into thinking it was. Really, I was just the poor schmuck who can't believe the bad girl is bad. "No," I thought. "Nobody could lie that much, and that blatantly. Nobody could be that self-centered." Yes, yes they can.

But it hurt a lot, finding out that I wasn’t anywhere near as important to her as she was to me. It’s a position I’ve tried really, really hard not to get into for a long, long time. And had succeeded, until now. But I fell into the trap of hearing what I wanted to hear, because it made life better for awhile.

The longer you deny truth, though, the more it feels like you’ve been whacked upside the head with a 2-by-4 when it finally hits.

Why do they call it a 2-by-4 when it’s not actually 2 inches by 4 inches? That’s false advertising. I ought to use that measuring system when people ask me personal questions about the size of my genitalia.

But life goes on. I’ve met someone cool, and though it’s not a “Love at first sight” kinda thing, we’ve started out with some real honesty. It’s a nice change. I’m really trying to listen to what she says, and not interpret it in guy language. That's not the language she's speaking. And I think she’s trying to understand me. Not on our own terms, but each other’s.

It’s a good start.

Remember - as George. W. Bush said, “Our nation must come together to unite.” How can you argue with a statement that inspired?

Jess

I'm in a bad, bad mood right now. But I've found writing about it doesn't help; it usually just fuels my mood even farther.

So I'm not going to post anything tonight. For my fans (both of you - love you guys), tune in tomorrow night. I'll have something witty and free of bitterness then.

Jess

Perfidious.

Strumpet.

Sometimes I think some of the best words in the English language are being phased out, in favor of misspelled or abbreviated text messaging words, like "kewl" and "LMAO." Sorry, your ass is still there, no matter how many times you type that.

Not only are the good words going away, so are the great exclamations, like "Tarnations!," "Egads!," and "Pshaw!" What are these replaced with? "Shah!" "As if" "Oh, no, you di'in!"

Now, I'm not one of those who believes that the English language should stay static. And I'm eternally grateful that my parents' generation's slang didn't last. May "Far Out" and "Groovy" rest in peace.

But I wish that the ongoing evolution of the English Language would be towards greater creativity and complexity, rather than simply being dumbed down.

One of my favorite shows of all time is "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." One of the first things that drew me in was Joss Whedon's ability to turn accepted sayings and sentence construction inside out. There are websites devoted to the unique sayings bursting forth from virtually ever episode.

I don't want a return to old english. Verily, 'twould suck in a most heinous fashion, forthwith. But let's not lose the old, let's just gain the new.

After all, wouldn't "Perfidious Strumpet" be a great name for a rock band?

Jess

Pardon me for asking, but why the hell are the French on the Permanent Security Council of the U. N. ? So we'll have an expert in how to surrender?

Have they been a major player in anything since the days of Napolean?

Well, if you have an answer, let me know. I'm going to go find a girl to freedom kiss.

Jess

I want to learn how to sword-fight.

It just sounds so cool. Think about it - some street punk pulls out a switchblade. You look at him and say in your best Crocodile Dundee voice "That's not a knife! Well, I guess that is a knife, and a pretty nifty one, at that, but... AHA!!!"

You would of course pull out the sword while saying "AHA!!!" It wouldn't make any sense, otherwise.

Or you could be walking down an alley and some guy comes at you with brass knuckles. You look at him and say "That's not a knife! Really, it's not... AHA!!!"

Or, if you were in the type of alley that they have in low-budget karate movies, you could look at the gang of guys dancing around you and say "That's not a knife! That's a pair of nunchuka, a pair of tonfa, a bo, and... AHA!!!" After you defeat all the other guys, then the evil bad guy (with a fu manchu and a half-ponytail) comes at you with a sword. You have a fantastically choreographed duel, with sparks flying all over the place, and much taunting, then you win, and rescue your best friend and his sister, who happens to be your girlfriend. And thus you avenge your master's untimely demise at the hands of his former student.

Okay, so I've watched way too many karate movies. But I still think it would be cool. Alas, in real life, I doubt it would be as cool as it is in the movies. He pulls a knife, you pull a sword, he pulls a gun, you give him all your money and lose bladder control...

Which is why I'm not going to actually take the time to learn how to sword fight. It's (as far as I can tell) a thoroughly useless skill. Like speaking French. But it would be so cool.

*sigh*

Remember, if you're walking up the stairs, and it's dark and spooky, and really creepy music starts playing - TURN AROUND AND LEAVE THE HOUSE!!! Your curiosity can wait 'til you come back with bright lights.

Jess

Call me weird, but I don't like to watch people making idiots out of themselves. I'm not talking about people who do what they do regardless of other people's opinions; I'm talking about the opposite. Those who are trying to gain respect, and only garnering annoyance.

Yet that seems to be the basis of about half the humor on TV and Film. Watch so-and-so act like a complete idiot and laugh at them!

heh.

hehe.

Why exactly is that funny? It just makes me uncomfortable. And I find most things in life funny, so I doubt it's that I have no sense of humor.

I was watching "Angel" last night. Since the end of Buffy *sniff* and the cancellation of "Firefly" *double sniff*, "Angel" has been my only dose of Whedon for the week. And I've been waiting for a new episode since last year.

Turns out that the entire episode was the about the character of Harmony, the ditzy blonde vampire, making an idiot out of herself. Thankfully, I had taped it, so I got to fast-forward all the embarrassing moments. Which made the episode last about ten minutes.

Now I realize that an occasional embarrassing moment can be funny, and true to life, as well. But over and over and over again? That's not funny to me, it's just painful.

Oh well, I'll quit griping. There's a new episode coming out next week. I have hopes.

Remember - if you have to reach up for the car door handle, you're probably too drunk to drive.

Jess

And lo, a dark time came upon the land, for the sacred Spurs had lost two in a row, thus relinquishing their first place status to the Timberwolves.

And there was much wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

It's been a beautiful, gorgeous, rainy day here all day.

Some people tell me that they don't like rain, that it makes them feel depressed. I don't understand that, myself. I like few things better than a rainy day with a good book, a blanket, and a mug of hot cocoa. It gives me a happy.

Of course, I'm lactose intolerant, so I usually skip the cocoa, but the rest of it...

I will admit, I do feel lazier on rainy days. I don't like to work, or practice as much. I just want to read.

Speaking of which, I've been reading the "Wild Card" series, edited by George R. R. Martin. If I ever become an author, I want to add a few initials to my name. Or keep my initials, and add a different last name. Yeah, they'd all be talking about J. R. R. Tolkien, George R. R. Martin, and Jess T. M. Mercer. Don't ask me where I got "Mercer" (Okay, I'll tell you - I pulled it right out of my... thin air...), but doesn't that sound like a good author's name?

If I had time for a second career, I would like to be a writer. I do enjoy writing very much, and I think I'd be better at it than my short-lived career as a gigolo. But I have no idea how to break into the industry. I know so many people that want to be writers, but serve coffee instead. I've finally managed to start a career in the music industry, and there's no way I'm giving that up.

But for today, I'm not going to write, and I'll only practice a couple of hours. Mainly I'm going to lie in bed and read, and listen to the rain on my tin roof.

So find a good book, everybody, and join me wherever you are. And if you're a good-looking female, join me wherever I am!

Remember - You can't judge a book by its cover, but you can sure as hell tell if it's a Romance Novel.

Jess

You know, I've got a great idea. Someday, I'm going to take a Shakespeare play, and turn it into a movie. But hold on - as daring and innovative as that idea is, I'm going to be even more avant-garde! I'm going to set it in modern times!

I know what you're thinking. This is crazy. Nobody's ever tried this before. But I'm just the man to do it.

Seriously, are we so short on ideas for screenplays that we've got to do that over and over again? There are other things to adapt. Look at how awesome LOTR was. The same could be done with any of the Vlad Taltos novels of Steven Brust, or the Ringworld series by Terry Pratchett. I love Shakespeare (well, the comedies, at least. Never really liked the tragedies), but come on, now!

Come on Eileen, Oh, I swear (what he means)...
Crap, am I singing eighties music again?

Speaking of which, what decade are we in right now? Does anybody know? The "Oughts"? The "O"s? The "Zeroes"? If you happen to know, email me. "pianoman@jessmills.com" - I'd sure like to know.

My cousin, who is on his way to being a plastic surgeon (although that's something of a misnomer; plastic rarely needs surgery), told me that my lifelong dream of having elf ears is quite attainable. I forgot to ask him about my other lifelong dreams, like being immortal, and having the ability to read minds.

*WARNING* Bitter rant coming along! *WARNING*

It's funny; I'm 26, thoroughly unmarried, and probably bound to stay that way for awhile (that's not the funny part). Everybody keeps asking me when I'm going to get married, settle down, and have kids.

HAH!!!

Now that I think of it, though, this is an improvement; everybody used to ask me if I was gay.

Don't get me wrong, I think parenting is a wonderful and noble thing. I also think it costs a whole lot of money, and more energy than can be measured. Sorry. I like sleeping for eight hours at a stretch, if I so desire. And I'm a musician. When's the last time you actually met a rich musician? Thought so.

Maybe I'm like this because I'm not married (and because I'm so damn selfish). But I know so many people that shacked up with the first willing person they could find, just so they could work on the white picket fence, the 2.5 kids, and the out-of-control credit cards that spell out the modern american dream.

Sorry, but if your marriage isn't stable and loving (and there are at least four or five of those out there), I don't think you should be having kids. The world's screwed up enough already.

Okay, I'm climbing down from the soapbox. But let's make a deal; you don't ask me when I'm planning on having kids, and I won't ask you when you're planning to learn to play piano.

Well, I'm going to go read now. Which I can do, since I don't have kids.

Remember - Life is like a box of chocolates. If you don't pay attention, somebody is going to eat all the good ones before you get to them, and you'll just be all pissed and bitter about it, and you'll leave the rest in the sun one day, and it'll all melt together into a big pile of goo, and you'll look up at the sky and scream "WHY, GOD, WHY?" in a melodramatic way, and rend your garments, and have to go around wearing sackloth and ashes Old Testament style, wishing you'd just been able to enjoy your box of chocolates...

On second thought, that had nothing to do with life.

Jess

I just realized today that I've been on the full-time entertainment staff of Howl at the Moon for six months now.

Now, in all honesty, that's largely because they've been desperate shortstaffed for pianists for about... Umm... Six months now.

But I'm not one to look a gift mouth in the horse, so I won't complain. And if they ever get overstaffed, well, I know other piano bars that are not!

But in all honesty, it's been great. If any of the guys that I work with read this - it's been awesome working with you.

My friends are all tired of hearing how much I love my job, but I'm living the dream. I make a decent living, and I'm doing something I intensely love.

And some chicks think it's hot. :)

I'm just feeling very grateful right now.

Remember -
The Stork brings the good babies, like all of you reading this.
The Raven brings the bad babies, like me.
And the Swallow brings no babies at all.

Jess

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I have a dream. A Grand Dream. One that may change the world. Someday, I want people to get my name right. Well, if it doesn't change the world, it'll still make me happier.

Now, I'll admit - sometimes I'm a little egotistical about my intelligence (okay, all the time). And sometimes I think things are easier than they are. But my name... Why is it hard? One syllable. Prounounced phonetically. Jess.

Today I went to get a gym membership. With hard work and regular exercise, I think maybe I can bulk up to 145 lbs. Maybe I'm being overly optimistic.

So the lady at the front desk asks me my name. I say "Jess Mills."

"Jeff?" She asks.
"Jess." I reply
"Jesse?"
"Jess. J - E - S - S."
"So it's Jeff."
"No "f"s - only two "s"s."

She writes something down. Mentions how she recognizes me from my CD. Talks about family members that she knows... We talk a little more while she fills out forms. She hands me my membership card, says "See you soon."

I look at the card. It confirms "Jeff Mills" as a new member of the gym.

Nor is this an isolated event. Most of my life people have gotten my name wrong. People at my church still call me "Jesse." And I've been the church pianist there since I was 16, with my name in the bulletin every week. One of the waitresses at HATM was introducing me, and called me "Jeff," despite the fact that my name is called out over the microphone at least three times a night.

Well, we all have our difficulties to overcome in life. And these days, more people are calling me "Legolas" or "Elf-Guy" than by my name, anyway. So I'll carry on. But if you ever want to get on my good side, don't call me "Jesse" or "Jeff."

Enough whining. I need to go back to practicing.

Remember - if you develop a burning rash, a second date is probably not a good idea.

Jess

P.S. Have you ever noticed that "Phonics" isn't spelled like it sounds?

Aargh. Women are evil. We would've destroyed them all long ago if they didn't look so much better than us. And that whole "survival of the species" thing, too.

Sorry. I'm a little bitter right now. Womenfolk have been infuriating me over the last few days. So far, I've dated two kinds of women; those who can't seem to tell the truth, and those who don't ever believe I'm telling the truth (and sometimes those categories overlap). Anybody who wants details (and I'm not sure why you would), feel free to ask me. I probably shouldn't be writing this in a blog for all the world to see, but I'm really needing to vent, and it's 4:30 in the morning, and I don't know anybody awake right now. And after all, how many people are reading this? Really, you are? Wow. I didn't know you cared that much about me.

Well, I'd scream, but my cousin is in town visiting, and he's sleeping in the next room. I think I'm going to find something to punch, instead. Don't worry, it will be an inanimate object.

Remember - don't sweat the petty things; pet the sweaty things.

Jess