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Reno Spiegel
08 November 2009 @ 05:22 pm
 
I wonder, if I shouted into my Livejournal, if it would just echo for a while.
 
 
through the airwaves: The Mars Volta - "Since We've Been Wrong"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
09 November 2008 @ 09:52 pm
 
So...to kind of blow the dust off this thing for a moment:


1. I'm at college now.

2. Who wants a Christmas story, aye? ( reno.spiegel[at]gmail[dot]com. )


Take care, folks.
 
 
Reno Spiegel
10 June 2008 @ 07:06 pm
 
Listen:

I don't use this thing as much as I'd like to anymore. And that is very much my fault.

But I do use Facebook more than is healthy for me, so if there are any of you cats that'd still like to keep in touch, fire me an email or leave your real names here or ask me for mine or something, nyao? It'll be great.
 
 
Reno Spiegel
03 April 2008 @ 09:32 pm
 
Let me explain where I am:


I'm about to graduate. Two months. Holy shit.

I'm going to Bemidji tomorrow for a publication ceremony. They took four of my pieces. Unprecedented. Holy shit.

I'm writing a lot of original work and am submitting to Coffee House Press, an independent publisher in Minneapolis that focuses on new writers and collections of short stories. It's perfect. Holy shit.

I'm going to Hamline University next year. A private school. Me at a private college. Holy. Shit.

I don't know how it happened, but there's a cynical girl that I adore, four months ago vehemently opposed to affection and commitment, that says she loves me and it scares the hell out of her. It scares me, too. Terrifying. Terrifying and liberating. Holy shit.


Where am I?

'doesn't matter.

I'm so alive.


Cheers,
Re.
 
 
through the airwaves: Beirut - "Cliquot"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
17 February 2008 @ 09:45 am
 
Huh.

So.

I posted a new fic. Review, perhaps, ifn's you'd like?

Um. . .

Yus. Hello.
 
 
through the airwaves: Loveline - "April 23, 2003 with Dominic Purcell"
 
 
 
Reno Spiegel
17 December 2007 @ 05:58 am
 
Hah. And just when you thought it was over. . .oh, no, he won't do it again this year, he's too busy. . .he never writes fanfiction anymore. . .Reno Spiegel has a Livejournal? For real?

Damn straight, which means it's time for:

RENO'S SACK OF GIFTS, YEAR FIVE.

Five years? You bet your ass, as hard to believe as it is. I apologize for putting you on the spot if you want a story this time through, since it's so late and all, but hey, imagine how down-to-the-wire I'm going to be.

Still, I don't have any homework these days, so I should be able to rattle these out quite quickly.

Here's the skinny: You give me a list and I give you a piece of fanfiction. I just need a bit from you first:

1. Fandom ( I'll love you if you keep it to FFVII if possible, for easier posting. )
2. Characters.
3. Setting.
4. Something special.

And your story ends up between five-hundred and two-thousand words, and posted on my fanfiction.net account as close to Christmas day as I can get it.

Keep your eyes open.

For everything.



Sincerely,
Spiegel Claus
 
 
through the airwaves: The Mars Volta - "Miranda That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
27 March 2007 @ 06:27 am
 
Hello, you lot.

Needless to say, I've kind of vanished from here. Lately I've been doing those MySpace and Facebook things because they're quick and easy, and my life, too, is quick and busy. I'm not going to abandon this thing, but I might not be rapid-fire blogging here.

I am alive, though.


I've reached a point in my life ( and maybe this isn't a permanent thing ) where every day is slightly more amazing than the last, and I'm starting to dread the patterns I have to follow in order to move from one to the next. I just feel so bored with waking up at the same time, eating the same breakfast, going to school for the same amount of time to learn things that don't really seem to help me outside school anymore ( for I am, also, at a point where they teach us things that help us in taking tests, which moves us to a higher learning place where we learn more things to do well on more tests to make the colleges look good ) coming home to take care of a dog that just isn't getting the idea of going outside to let himself go, going to bed around the same time after browsing about the Internet. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And maybe I'm just overreacting to finally being happy, but I spent the last five days ( two of which, last week, I skipped school for it ) doing beautiful things and now going back to chemistry, algebra, history, composition, and lunch duty just seems like throwing a blanket on the spark.

Because I spent Thursday with my best friends in the world, just being ourselves, then driving a few hours to see a Kurt Vonnegut play. Friday I went to school with Mike, my teacher from MITY, my hero, then we watched Doctor Strangelove together and enjoyed each other's company. Saturday I went to Ohio and saw Freezepop, which was nothing short of spontaneous and wonderful, and Sunday was spent driving the thirteen hours home in a storm that had all the potential to push the car off the road. Yesterday was bliss; Melissa came over and we napped, we cooked things, we talked and adored each other, we met friends for coffee so she can know some people at prom, we went shopping a bit. . . I could spend days with her, really.


Today? I go to school and catch up on chemistry worksheets ( translating grams to moles to formula units to moles to. . . ) and algebra assignments ( how to simplify fractions within fractions and balance and cancel out what's left ) and write note cards for a grad standard paper ( fifteen pages, ninety note card requirement, three book sources ) which might be the most enjoyable of anything I get to do today.

It all just seems to blah compared to what I could be doing. I talked to the counselor at school ( because she's more my friend than anything else, and it's a joy to talk to her ) and she told me to do what I love and what's beautiful; not what's going to make me the most money and get me the nicest car. I don't know if that's what she's supposed to be telling me to do, but it's nice to meet someone who has dreams and aspirations like we're supposed to.


I told her, "I don't want to look around myself as an old man and realize I spent the last thirty years of my life just trying to get by, doing something I hate. Because it happened to my parents and it's happened to my friends and it's all too possible it's going to happen to me."

"I could be making four times as much money doing something else than I make doing this," she told me, "but this is what I love. And that's what counts."


We all know it, but it seems too often that we're told the exact opposite: Go to school and learn a lot, because it matters to get into college, and college decides the rest of your life for you. When you get out, get a good job -- besides, you're going to have tens of thousands of dollars in loans to pay back. It's not that money will buy happiness eventually, but being poor is truly miserable. It's nice to be financially comfortable ( and I know that it really is, but I'm not going to pick the roads I walk down based only on that. ) Work nine to five. Buy a big house. Get a shinier car than your neighbor has. Raise children. Work so you can put them through school, so they can learn things and go to college and follow you to good jobs. Die old and not miserable; not so much happy and having loved what you did, but just not where you regret not doing more.

And what if I get to that point and regret doing as much as I did without doing the smaller things? Well, it's too late. Too late. Too late. We've got ninety years, tops, and the way the world is, it's hard to live your life for love and beauty anymore. If your ACT and SAT scores weren't great, good luck in life, they tell me. If you don't finish college, your life is going to be a struggle, they tell me. My other counselor told me that we've reached a point where only the wealthy can happily go to college, because you can't pay tuition in dreams and desires, as important as they are.


. . .Maybe I'm scared. I'm on the cusp of college and the rest of my life, and maybe what I've done is lived my high school years too much for the thrill of one day to the next and excelling in college and getting a good job and dying on feather pillows really is the way to go.

Maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe I don't really know how to live correctly ( don't worry; I'm not going to off myself of anything -- I'm much too happy ) and I'm going to wake up one day and realize my step-father was right, I should've gone into computers, because there's no chance of survival for a person who wants to live for something beautiful rather than something stable.

I suppose we'll find out before too long. I have a feeling that I'm either headed for a life where the sunsets will only get more colorful or a life where the nights will only get darker.


Take care, you lot.

Cheers.

( it might be best to ignore me, for i may have no idea what i'm talking about. the weekend has spoiled me, i think. )
 
 
through the airwaves: The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - "Waiting"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
03 March 2007 @ 07:41 pm
 
A letter to Ticketmaster:


Dear Ticketmaster,

Looking over the walls of my room, I see that we have quite a history with each other. Granted, people my age have been dealing with you much more frequently and for a longer period of time, but I still like to think that our exchanges have gone well. Kathy and I used you to see Incubus and The Music in Saint Cloud in the fall of oh-four. You let me go to Warped Tour in 2005. You let me see Weezer and the Foo Fighters later that year, and a Fall Out Boy, Hawthorne Heights, All-American Rejects, From First to Last, and The Hush Sound thing the following spring ( where I met a bizarrely friendly girl named Catherine who spoke maybe three words of English and tried to dance with me during Honorable Mention, which she'd probably never heard before. ) And who can forget the first time we exchanged names? Van Halen in 2004. It was a glorious night for me and thousands of alcoholic Omaha-dwellers with mullets, tour shirts from the eighties, and license playes that said 5150, I must say.

Admittedly, we've had our differences since then. The local scene has been getting to me. Java Joint and Cheap Thrills are cheaper and more accessible -- and maybe that makes you angry. But hey, I never got hit in the face by some scrawny teeny-bopper during Doorstep Paradise -- whereas you let me be assaulted that way during the From First to Last set, when all I wanted to do was survive to get a good shot of Hawthorne Heights with my disposable camera. So perhaps that's where the split started. I didn't use you to get a Flogging Molly ticket, I know, but it was a college show and that couldn't be helped. That one wasn't my fault.

I gave you a chance, though. I tried to see The Spill Canvas and Halifax last September, and what happened? You dropped the ball. You dropped it and it fell real far, mate. I admit, you didn't know that The Quest was going to catch fire, but after it did, you could've told me that the show was moved to the other downtown of the Twin Cities. That would've been nice. But you said it was still at The Quest -- oh, and did I not talk to you already about letting me know when the event time is pushed forward two hours so I can get there on time? Three-fourths of The Spill Canvas' set was excellent for me, which is why I didn't ask you for my money back, but. . .c'mon. Couldn't I have at least caught one song of Halifax?

Tonight, though, you've stopped being funny. You've insulted me, you've insulted my thirteen dollars, and I want to know why. I called the venue for tonight's show -- The Spill Canvas in Fargo; no, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about, because it's on your website and we both know it, you prick -- to ask about the camera policy. That was all I wanted. And I -- no, let me just tell you the conversation I had with the nice woman at the box office. Here it is:

"Hi, I'm calling about the show tonight."
"Pardon?"
"The show tonight."
"Oh, The Spill Canvas?"
"Yeah; I was calling to ask about the camera policy."
"Actually, they had to postpone the show until Tuesday."
". . .Oh."

Casual goodbyes were exchanged, and I went back to you. I checked the page, and it said, indeed, still, that the show is tonight. What is that? You're not even playing with me this time, like when that club caught fire -- maybe you weren't told about that one, so I forgave you. But today, you lied to me. You lied to me twice, as a matter of fact. I went to check on the refund policy ( needless to say, I won't be driving three hours to catch a show on a school night, as per the parentals' orders ) and you told me clearly that I was told when purchasing my ticket that there are no refunds.

That is arrogant and untrue, Ticketmaster. I purchased my ticket from an elderly woman in the shoe section at Macy's. I was never told that there were no refunds -- I was told that my hair was interesting and to drive carefully because the roads were icy that day, but I was never told that there were no refunds. That's very assumptuous of you.

I will be doing what I can to get my thirteen dollars and fifty cents back.

And when I do, I'm going to use it for two or three shows at the Java Joint.

And there's nothing you can do about it, you bastard.


Sincerely,
Lewis.



In other news, I've been very well aside from all that. Most of my time lately has been spent with Melissa, which I'm definitely not complaining about. She's got me in a real good mood lately.

On the agenda soon are such things as starting the fifteen-page research paper required to graduate from this school, casting and directing a play that I wrote, more time with Melissa, and things like that. We've been out of school since Wednesday, and to be honest, I'm not quite sure what day it is.


Take care, you lot.

Cheers.
 
 
through the airwaves: Vex Red - "The Closest"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
20 February 2007 @ 06:31 am
 
So I used my weekend to write slam poetry, be with a couple of my best friends in the world, and spend a good deal of time with Melissa ( the girl I had Valentine's Day plans with. )

Friday night, Cody and Brandon came over, and Melissa and Amanda stopped in on their way back from Moorhead. It was probably the largest amount of people I've had in my house since my birthday party, but it was a lot of fun. Mother was surprised when she got home, anyway.

Saturday was a long day of nothing at Brandon and Cody's ( it's actually my friend Adam's house, but. . .well, it's a long story. ), with a few hours at home for dinner and random miscellany. It was excellent. We went grocery shopping and out for a bit of dinner. I could definitely deal with them as housemates.

Sunday morning -- let's call it three in the morning -- found Brandon, Cody, and myself taking a walk about town in the snow, taking pictures, before we went back to the house, set three mattresses on a staircase, and slid down them like little kids. When I climbed in the laundry basket sled and Cody insisted on being hit in the face with a cardboard box on his way down, we decided we'd had too much fun and dismantled it.

Later Brandon, his girlfriend, her friend, her boyfriend, and I all went to a pizza buffet, which was paid for by the friend. It was a little awkward, and I don't know if my car's exactly pure anymore -- it was dark and the music was loud, but I can't be sure if they listened to me yelling at them -- but it was a good evening. Brandon's a great person to be around.

Yesterday was spent at Melissa's for a "hey, we have the day of school" kind of a thing. There were a few other people there, which was nice, because now I'll know a few kids at prom. Guitar Hero and Dance Dance Revolution were played ( the latter of which, Melissa says, I'm never allowed to play again. ) We watched The Rocky Horror Picture show, which led to Time Warp-ing and a few singalongs, cause half of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and I came back home to learn that the new dog and my step-father had a bit of a row while I was gone, so I guess we're getting rid of him today.

. . .The dog, not my step-father.

It's sad. I was just getting attached to him, too. My parents named him Nelson, but I refuse to call him anything but Mister Mandela. I'll miss the little sucker, I can tell, even if he did hate me and most of my friends.


Where does this leave me today?

Oh, yeah. Chemistry and algebra homework unfinished. Untouched, really, and I've got those two classes first today. But I feel like it was a worthwhile trade. I mean, Abby showed me a lot of things in life, but especially in death she showed me that we can go anytime, and I don't want to walk out of the house today, get hit by a car, and realize in that last second that my final weekend was spent balancing chemical equations or factoring polynomials.

I'm much happier about sliding down mattresses in a laundry basket and singing along to Rose Tint My World with the head on my shoulder.

I know that might sound irresponsible, but it makes me happy.
 
 
through the airwaves: Elliott Smith - "Punch and Judy"
 
 
Reno Spiegel
14 February 2007 @ 09:29 pm
 
Alright, Sabe. Here's what I've got ( admittedly, I wrote four-thousand words between this morning's hours of four-thirty and seven, which explains why I'm real effin' tired ):

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2098292/8/

How's your end looking?



Also, happy Valentine's Day to anyone who won't shove a stick through my head for saying it. My friends page is littered with "fuck this day" posts, so I'm a bit skeptical, but. . .I had a good day. The plans went well, it was a lovely evening, and that was all good and fun.

Cheers.

Take care, you lot.
 
 
through the airwaves: The Da Capo Players - "Cuts Marked in the March of Men"