Sunday, November 25, 2012


Haven't left any thoughts here in awhile, but today is as good a day as any.

Hello again reader!

I am going to tell you a tale of my recent experience at the Greystone Manor Supperclub.

This Thanksgiving [2012] I turned 21 years old, it happens every so often, I haven't checked but probably once every 3-4 years. Coincidentally this means everyone forgets that it still happens those years. 21 not being the prime year to have this overshadow "my" day. Not to come off as selfish but this year just hasn't been the best birthday I have been looking forward to.

So since I spent my time with family for Thanksgiving my birthday plans were postponed, which I don't mind.    My girlfriend Lucy and I got tickets to the Greystone Manor to see DJ Afrojack to celebrate and kick off my years of legal drinking!

We arrived on time, doors open* at 9:00. Well doors didn't open till later, oh well. Get inside and mingle around, check out the club a bit. It is a classy looking place, nice chandeliers, typical club couches and VIP tables around. The club has a tiny dance floor when we arrived, maybe 20 feet across, 40 feet back. They put VIP tables all around the dance floor and in front of the DJ booth for their top paying customers I guess. A few minutes later they finally opened up the floor a little more, possibly 10 feet wider after moving another table.

This club wasn't organized very well if you have guests inside and you still need to move around your furniture!

So let's get my first drink! I ask for something good, and got a AMF for $15, tipped my bartender $2. I wasn't feeling the slow Tech-House the house DJ played for the first 3 hours, so I get back to the bar and had to pay $8 for a draft beer, ripoff. Damn oh well. The guy tells me he will hook me up with a birthday shot if I come back in a few minutes. Sounds good except he never delivered and I was going to have to buy another drink to get that free shot anyways, like a Two-for-One deal. $15 for a good drink and a shot wasn't too bad except he ignored me at the bar the rest of the night so I kept my money.

Afrojack finally arrives at just after midnight and plays a set I feel like I have heard before. not too exciting, but expected track after track. I could feel it if I wasn't getting grinded on by some drunk slut behind me every other second. I tried to get her to respect my space but that wasn't happening, and she gives me a tough shove, so I mouthed off at her and tried to ignore it for the benefit of my night. Leave the dancefloor and I keep running into bullshit at every corner, we both got frustrated and left over an hour early.

I am not one to complain about shows, but the expectations were set pretty high for this night and I feel robbed. This club packed in probably 15-200 extra people on a dancefloor less than 900 sq feet, had crowds standing on top of each other, on top of couches, railings, all over. PACKED LIKE SARDINES, asking for over $80 a ticket for a 2 hour set.

This prompts me to never return to this venue, no matter the talent I can see it elsewhere, not surrounded by assholes and staff that are only trying to milk me for my money.

What a horrible blog post this was, but I need somewhere to rant, and this will be the latest in the archive for Tylers Forgotten Thoughts.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011



Spread the love. This world is pretty fucked up.

I was talking to a stoner the other day. The guy was so depressing, [*sigh* glad I won't be seeing him for awhile] he totally thought that we were already hardwired in such a way that due to our parents and such ancestral lines that those who were the offspring of genetically privileged were destined to go further in life. Actors, politicians, etc were all of this genetically priviledged class who were destined to succeed because of their biology. Conversely, he tried to convince me that he had hit his success ceiling, that no matter how hard any of us tried we could NOT become millionaires, or in his case even become wealthy. What a fucking downer. I came from poverty in Texas and in less than two years I have turned that around more or less. Seriously this guy put shit in perspective for me. Don't let life get you down guys! If you tell yourself you can make it happen, you can.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


This blog is not for ranting, or looking for pity. But I ought to get this shit off my chest and start getting some help. So why not post it here and see if I get some useful, creative ideas from anyone who bothers to read through a post?

First I'll give you a little intro into who I am. Names Tyler Nichols, I am about to start my second year at Cal State University Northridge. Or so I thought, I lost a fair amount of money this semester due to budget cuts and me not realizing a %12 rise tuition means I don't get my school paid for anymore. So Bare minimum, the Feds will pay for my tuition, up to 12 or 13 units, so I am considered a full time student. That's great and all but now I have pay for my living near school. At the moment I am in debt to my current roommate about 500. I work at a movie theater that doesn't give me enough hours so I am looking at heading to Northridge with about $100 and no car, no job. Just classes to take.

I had thought I would be set with maybe $800 for the first month while I got a new job, and perhaps get my hands on a cheap car beforehand too, that just isn't happening.

This puts me where I am at now, wondering how the hell I am going to make LIFE work. Any ideas for making some extra cash I may not have thought of yet? Or some phantom alternative I am overlooking?

Thursday, July 14, 2011

My first little blog. A gem from the past.

This is something I wrote my senior year that I like :P Includes my first draft level spelling and grammar errors... I don't have the final version anymore and don't want to take the time to fix it up for a blog, haha.

This alternate ending starts as it says, after he meets Julia near the very end of the book. I was doing my best to capture and continue George Orwell's writing style and tone. If anyone decides to read this, tell em what ya think :D

Winston walked down the sidewalk after his encounter with Julia feeling apathetic. A vague hope of reconnection had gripped him before, but their meeting meant nothing. They were empty shells, she had become that woman with the dark hair, who he had despised. A member of the Junior Anti-Sex League. How could he have ever loved her, she was his enemy, he had betrayed her after all. It must not have been important. So Winston swept his mind of her. He continued along the sidewalk among the other people, in their dingy clothing and filth. A man dropped paper in front of him. It was old but he felt he should become up to date with what had been happening outside all this time. However worthless it may be, it would be something to read when he got to the diner.

“Victory” the telescreen proclaimed, “Vast strategic maneuver– perfect coordination!” Winston sighed, and took a sip of Victory gin he had ordered from the waitress. A crowd was growing around the large telescreen. Winston felt inclined to stand up and join the cheering, but he remained there rolling his glass about its base. He had waited for the announcement from the front all day, but now it seemed insignificant. He was reading his newspaper and saw, the old news headline, “Victory– armies of Eurasia crushed in mighty victory!” Something sparked his memory, hadn't he written for this newspaper? It looked so familiar, yet the facts were all wrong, the telescreen on the wall proclaimed that the armies of Eastasia were the enemy, and that they always were. But this newspaper was in direct contradiction of that. Winston tried to abolish this paradox from his mind, but he could't the facts were both there. The Party said that Eurasia was the enemy, and that Eurasia was the enemy. This concept could not be grasped. Entering deep thought Winston deliberated these facts, everything O'Brien had said, it was the truth. The Party was always right, they controlled the past, and the present. But how could these most simple mistakes be made by the all-knowing, omnipotent collective that was The Party. Winston could not grasp the idea of doublethink here, when the facts, the contradiction faced him so plainly, it was unfathomable. The roar of cheering people outside was unearthly loud, he could not think clearly. He shut his eyes tightly and attempted to shut out the noise.

When he opened his eyes, he was clutching his glass tightly, to the point where the pressure hurt his palm. Letting go and sliding his glass off his paper, the condensation smudged some lettering from the old newsprint. The words “War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength” were smudged and bleeding into the paper. Studying the slogan of The Party Winston grew angry, he peered out the window at the people cheering in ignorant bliss outside, in pity, pity but also hatred. How could they be so accepting of the lies they were fed? Winston stood up quickly and jutted his thighs against his table in the rush. Briskly walking out of the diner, pushing cheering party fanatics out of his way. They were not bothered by his brutality though, they were to captivated in their victory announcement, full of frenzied hate and bliss. Winston was rounding the corner of the Ministry of Truth's plaza square. His brisk walk came to a dead stop. The sight of the Big Brother Statue overcame him, he stood silent. His thoughts were flooded with questions. He had not been brainwashed as O'Brien had thought, if he were could he reason like he was, no. All the lies came to him, his faint memories restored, the photograph, the falsified papers and reports, Comrade Oglivy, they were all lies, illusions of The Party, and he had been an agent of their tyranny. He had been the hand of deceit, the tool of ignorance incarnate. These people all around him whom he had pitied where so, because he had helped to make them so.

He did not love Big Brother, the sight of his figure made him sick to his stomach. He was enraged, with what he did not know, himself, Julia, O'Brien, The Party, the Proles? If human nature were to prevail, why hadn't it already? The Proles had never done anything, how could they, the Thought Police were everywhere. His head began to focus, on one thing, there may be nothing he could do about the state of his country, or The Party, but he hated Big Brother, he always would, and the feeling filled him. The Party could not control one's mind. They had not overcome his mind had they? Winston got up slowly, with a small smirk on his face.

When he turn around he faced a familiar face. It was not one he had seen before, but the nature of the face he knew all too well, it was an agent of the Thought Police, he wore a long sleek black coat. The man looked at Winston in the eyes, and he knew what he was about to do. He was there to execute Winston, as O'Brien had said. But O'Brien had failed to take on thing into account. An old Proles newspaper that had been picked up with no thought of rebellion, or heresy. And Winston was free again. He smiled at the man in the coat, as the gun was raised to his chest. The crack was heard and all went faint. A second crack, and it was over. But Winston had won the victory over himself, he was not an empty shell, he had in himself gone out, the screaming heretic that O'Brien had spoke of. He hated Big Brother, they didn't know, but that didn't matter to him, he was at peace.