Things have gone odd.

what was once suppressed, is bubbling back to the surface.

It's late, and I'm sharing my time with it again.

I closed my website due to the fact that a great many people who visited, mistook my writings/ lyrics/ poetry to be from a first person perspective rather than a third individuals view. A little of it was personal, but a majority were little screen plays or short stories i had been developing.

I've been wanting very much to post musical ideas online. I had spent 2 years between photography, writing and design, carrying a modest field recorder with me and capturing everyday sounds, or sounds of me striking objects with various objects. Then I'd take those sounds into a PCM/WAV editor and twist and bend them to create a library of homemade samples.

This is still a goal, however I need a stronger computer to work with my synthesizer.

I'm unsure as to what else to put here. This blog seems very boring to me.

So, I have things to do tomorrow and have to engage with many interesting people so I need to get my sleep to be prepared.

good morning

so....i don't know what to say much anymore.

when the creativity leaves i'm very much mired in a stand still. like time has stopped in me, but not around me. In this state i miss out on many things like talking with friends and other human beings like myself.

I took apart a broken laptop earlier today, and imagined a lot just looking at the shapes and patterns that this little machine that had brought me so much enjoyment had hidden.

Everyone is looking at screens, not unlike the one you're looking at to read this.

A screen on the phone
A screen on the television
A screen on the computer
A screen at the gas pump

A screen in the back seat of an automobile
A screen at the doctor's office
A screen on the MP3 player

I miss just looking away out of a window or at a wall and just letting my mind turn and figure things out.

Screens are everywhere...there is no escape

I don't like that downtown, where many people are, that they walk along looking at screens rather than examining the day and their surroundings.
Also too, that anything you want to find is a computer click away.
I miss record stores where you would have to hunt in to find a treasure.
The same with metting people who you like very much

Dome

Pills to help
help or leave

I hope to come back to a closer orbit soon
Don't take it personally

I like things just fine, just not always able to elaborate on it.

I write when things go wrong

nostalgia...


nostalgia worries me...i recently saw an old friend who despite making a very good living felt the need to overpay for an old video game system, it's games, and toys from the early 80's. i suppose the memories from such times ( our youth into early adulthood ) is a fond memory for many. we were young, felt indestructible, and the future was as wide open as the sky.

nearing, ( or in the doorway of ) middle age is a stark reminder that we're all very mortal. that our physical and mental best is now falling further behind us and that any change we are willing to make, now carry along consequences of others beside our own little bubble. loved ones, children, and significant others who we are invested in all carry some toll to a whimsical decision.

I honestly feel that nostalgia for times past is as best, a bad idea. the need to reach back as if cassette tapes days without the internet were better than compact discs and having to dig for information through archives in a library.

the times weren't better, but the youth was better.

i often find myself wanting to just close my account of social networking sites simply because if i haven't spoken with anyone in the last 15 years why would i want to speak with them now? not so oddly, these sites have become amazingly popular with people almost addicted to them. i like to leave memories as just that. a picture in my head, that by human nature i can edit, delete, and modify anything i want inside of my head which allows these perceptions to be in a case of constant flux.

we all would like to have acted differnetly in our past, maybe make different choices. This however is not possible and to hold onto the past is more or less saying that we've run out of good ideas.

to quote bill hicks: "this is just a ride". nothing could be more true. people i've grown up with are hovering just below or just above 40 and that's a scary place to be. the liquid cement has begun to thicken...we had it, now we've lost it and the future is going to push on without us.

2010

Well, I certainly don't think the world will end in 2 years, as is being popularized. Come to think of it, is there a 6 month period where the world won't end or everyone is going to get deathly ill. From Mad Cow, Bird Flu, Anthrax, Y2K, and now Swine Flu.

At this moment I just turned 37. Age seems to be a bummer for most friends I grew up with. I admit, there is NO upside to getting older, nonetheless it's a situation no one controls. For a while I was jealous and missed being 19 that in a blink of an eye doubled. Then I realized I never really got past that age in my own head. It's a fair argument if that's good or not. I could give 2 monkeys to being bogged down in debt and what I was told I needed to be. It really is at this point that you realize you've been handed a bunch of bullshit about what one needs to achieve to attain certain stations in life. I suppose it's good for the economy, but even that is fake.

I love someone I'd trust my life with, have a load of music to listen to, a desire to create my own, a warm bed and a few scant bucks in my pocket. opposed to other regions in the world, even being moderately poor is the lap of luxury.

I may be negative by nature, but in the end I'm happy and if I die tomorrow: no gain, no loss.
it's all been a good bit of fun.

I miss Leo and Adele.

Everyone else...TBD

[ why? ]


...do i write?

if i had a simple answer,or better still, knew what to say to properly explain it, i'd have already wrapped it up. since that's not an option,...onwards and upwards.

i was / still, am by nature insular. perhaps "only child syndrome" whereas my imagination was always vivid and took to art formats like a fish to water. being very young, or as far back as coherent memory will take me, i drew all the time, half heartily creating stories that i'd abruptly stop in the middle of because i would have, what i thought, was a better idea to follow through on. this had become, until the time of this blog entry, a consistent habit. thoughts and ideas flow much faster than i can physically catch up with.

as many children, my major influences were what i saw on television, movies or comic books. all of which i hoped to aspire to someday until i grew a little older and began to appreciate music around the age of ten or so. for everything else the aforementioned mediums inspired me, the use of sound, like my mom's doors', bowie, beatles, and velvet underground albums opened up a realm where the most amazing feelings and ideas came fourth by nothing more than just listening to a 4 minute piece of music and it acting like a drug. i was hooked.

also by that age, we purchased cable television and a mainstay for me was mtv. the idea of paying to watch television seemed alien but since i wasn't paying the early MTV channel was something i would never turn off, even though i had in my hands my first remote control. synthesizers has just broken and bands like human league, and artist like gary numan and thomas dolby were exciting. here were songs that were exhibiting sounds that felt like another race of beings had descended onto earth and were playing wonderful celestial soundscapes. down with guitars, up with synths and sampling devices like the early fairlight. exciting times as a child, but the price paid for true artist was growing dim. the sun was setting on true artist. directors who had no idea what to do for a video, and musicians who had no idea what to do with the new technology were both fucking it up and by a good wide margin. the decade of credit cards, cocaine, and bad fashion had kicked up dirt over the substance of true artist. jesus was replaced by coca cola.

back to the writing,....i felt some background of the times was required to explain my mindset.

i began writing in 9th grade. i was at the time, kicked out of my school for being a problematic student who failed 2 grades twice. not that i wasn't smart enough, i just didn't give a shit. this landed me in a special program called the "phoenix project" ( to this day sounds like a bad movie ). the problem, or blessing with this was out of the 3 schools in the city, they took 10 of the least wanted students and put us together. this of course ran the same risk of putting criminals in jail. they all share their bad ideas and come out more educated and savvy in their exploits. however i found a connection with two teachers, the most important being an english teacher mrs. harrington. until then i hated english. reading shitty books and writing shittier book reports. i was finally encouraged to write something of my own. a poem. it wasn't very good, but apparently good enough for her to pull me aside and ask me to write more for extra credit.

so i wrote the extra credits and was inspired to write more. it's notable that at the same time, i had my first experience with drugs and alcohol. usual fare, pot, schnapps, and the occasional acid trip provided by my hooligan classmates. This may or may not have contributed to the extension of my urge to write, sketch, and paint. in any event, in measured doses i found that it at least seemed to speed up the process.

it was around this time, i discovered a developing nocturnal nature, and spent hours in a 24 hour coffee shop from 11 to 3 in the morning meeting both nice people and unsavory characters. i foolishly gravitated towards the more dangerous people, which put me, as a 14 to 16 year old in situations i was thrilled by, as equally frightened. drugs and sex were the natural way to spend a night before school. i was intimidated, frozen, and wanting to know more. these were individuals who eclipsed any 'dangerous' fools i knew as classmates. sneaking in and out of my house was easy. shaking some of the odd ideas and practices i saw and took part in while in an altered, sometimes comatose mindset was something all together a separate entity.

this gave me my very first outlet to write. experiences i felt i couldn't talk about so my only recourse was to take pen to paper. at first it was all very blatant, however i had begun finding books i'd enjoyed like '1984' ' a clockwork orange', and 'do androids dream of electric sheep' which became the film 'blade runner'. the overall felling in those books somehow connected to how i felt. not at all literally, but as most disenfranchised teenage idiots feel.

i began to write about my personal experiences as well as fictional stories under the guise of these atmospheres. like 2 pictures on tracing paper put on top of each other that together looked abstract. this allowed me, by the time i was 17 to begin seeking out my own lingo and mannerisms. i also enjoyed slamming two words together just to see how they sounded bouncing off one another.

i wrote from the only experience i knew in short form...lyrics. these eventually back doored me into several go nowhere bands, but they liked my writing and had a steady deadpan voice that allowed them to put up with me. i tried to learn instruments despite my lack of coordination and found a solace in keyboards as by then, sequencers and 4 track recorders were available to the mainstream public, however still, at a steep price point. i was far too thick headed to want to accept any ones ideas, so i usually took my lyrics and left in a huff. i fought rhyming and writing a chorus. i wish i had played well with others. i needed them more than they ever needed me. i was too short sided to realize that at the time and in certain ways,...still that way. I always, and still do feel that i could bring something productive to a musical environment.

so, that's why i write. it's a good therapy and years later it was necessity as certain personal reasons demanded such a safe outlet. drugs or hurting yourself are not only ridiculous ways to vent, but they will both, eventually kill you.

i enjoy writing things to this day. especially that i can put very personal feelings and dip them in metaphors and twist them between lingo spoken in a fictional place, even if it is a place set in my own imagination.

some are actual events
some are complete fiction
most are a blend only for certain people to decipher.


not sure if any of this was a clear explanation.