Money.

For some reason I feel entitled to having lots of money because I would spend it on guitars and guitar gear rather than squander it on fancy cars, clothes and drugs. 

Ok, maybe I'd spend some of it on drugs.

Things I hate. #1.

I hate when talented friends want to charge you money for a small favour.  If I had talents, I would share it with all my friends.

Moments where I felt cool. #1.

I was at a concert to write a review for the magazine I write for.  The concert was comprised of three bands and there was only one that I was excited for.  After the concert, the drummer of the band that I liked came up to me.  He told me that he liked my shirt and noticed me wearing it during their set.  He asked me if I saw that band at a show I was at.  I said yeah and that I really liked the band on my shirt.  He told me that he was friends with the band on my shirt through his last band.  I asked him what band he was in.  He told me the name of another band that I liked a lot.  I didn't know that he used to be in that band.

You know you're cool ...

... if you have a drum kit in your bedroom.

Tonka Trucks.

The construction site drew him into a gaze.  The preliminary stages were under way, the earth was being removed and the site began to resemble a dinosaur-eradicating crater.  Adorned in his expensive business attire with leather shoes and pleated suit, he couldn’t help but watch the monstrous yellow machinery pummel and tear through the earth.  Nostalgic for his childhood years in the sandbox, a time ripe with potential, he slowly began to remember his long forgotten dreams of wearing big rugged boots and a bright yellow hard hat.  Endless hours were spent with his beloved yellow Tonka trucks and his young self was most certain that he would one day be driving the real thing.  He continued to watch, immersed in the mechanical movements of the crane as it dug in deep and clawed through the rubble and earth.  The thundering growls and groans roaring from the machines, painful for most, were soothing and tranquil for him.  He couldn’t help but smile as his fellow financial district comrades rushed by him, drinking their coffees and talking on their blackberries.  Breaking his trance, his blackberry began to buzz in his pocket.  He took it out slowly, still staring intently at his industrial sand box as he pulled the phone to his ear.  “Peter … Peter!  Where are you!” said the digitally toned voice.  He seemed to not notice the urgency in the caller’s voice and casually responded, “Hey --- Steve, have you checked out the construction site across the way?  It’s so awesome.”  The voice in the phone was quiet for a moment, then a sudden burst of anger was released, “What the fuck are you talking about Peter!  The partners are already here, Jason is fluff talking them so you can get here!”  He slowly took a step back, took a breath in and sighed ever so slightly.  “Ok, ok … I’ll be right there.”