http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BRxm187PZs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooVB9qDUqDY
Might write a bit later. For now, just sharing something amazing.
November 14, 2010
November 07, 2010
Light Bright
Last night was a long night. And this morning finds my head hurting just a little. But... from the bad comes the good.
I rolled over at a spry 730am and felt a bit like someone punched me in the face. Now, I've never actually been punched in the face. So for all I know, medically, my condition could be a lot closer to getting hit by something larger than a fist... like a brick or a cinderblock. Also, you should know that I spent at least a few minutes trying to include a large fish, maybe a salmon or a trout, into that short list of potential culprits. But it just didn't come together on the page. Alas, the biding and biting teeth of failure.
At any rate, sounds and thoughts are ricocheting around the space between my ears with similar force.
My heater was on too high last night so I was all out of sorts when I got up. My face was traumatic and the rest of my body was just powering on through some kind of... biological trench warfare. Such is the price of what some consider to be a successful evening.
I watched the first bit of an EPL match before I realized my efforts to regulate temperature in and around me were completely futile. I peeked out the door and saw that the sun was already up. The wind was whipping so hard through the treetops that there wasn't a single bird happy enough to sing about it.
Sometimes, the best way to gain control of a situation is to accept the fact that control just isn't possible. I put on some warm clothes and decided to let the sun do all the heavy lifting for me. I opened the door and wandered pitifully through the tall, wet grass out to the end of the back yard where the sun had already found the ground.
The grass was dry and the ground was soft. The crunchy leaves smelled like autumn and the troubled birds overhead were most certainly monitoring a curious human.
I checked the ground a bit like a dog searches for the four-square-foot space best suited for an imminent, steaming pile of Laziness. I tested the density of the available green pillows with a palm and decided on one without too many acorns around it.
Not a moment later was I six feet shorter scanning the green horizon with the winter sun in my face.
Sighs were readily available and a mere sixty seconds later, my Sagittarian whim was comfortably validated. I felt better.
As I lay there considering the nature of nothing, I cracked my eyes and was assaulted by the manifold, multifaceted scenes unfolding between my cranium and the light source so many miles away.
Anyone who ever rolled around in the grass as a kid or watched certain movies knows how much fun it is to get lost in a miniature world. My eyes were generally opposed to taking it all in because the direct sunlight had certain effects... as you can probably imagine.
So there I was laying sideways, toying imaginatively with scaled, choreographed aerial stunts of epic proportion that even a miniature Maverick couldn't have handled. My eyelashes were doing damage control against the sunlight. And the grass's canopy, all three inches off the ground, was bent, fractured and hidden at the same time by years-old splinters of light. Every eyelash fought with the strength of an entire standing army against the attack. And we were victorious.
But as I lay there, a certain beauty was realized: how nice it is to have two devices which, unlike their industrial counterparts, can consistently handle everything between them and the sun. Have you ever tried to take a picture in direct sunlight? How much of what you actually wanted to capture ends up being visible? Of course, there are exceptions... but not many. And I like to think my brain records things in video instead of stills, anyway. Modern hard drives still have a long way to go before they catch up to our CATA drives (Cerebral Advanced Technology Attachment).
"Some Might Say" by Oasis on (What's the Story) Morning Glory
October 22, 2010
Leaks
I read one article about it and I can't bring myself to read a second yet.
I can't think about it tonight after such a long week. This is such a monumental failure that it's impossible for me to express my discontentment.
Anyone who's spouting opinions right now clearly has not sat down and considered the magnitude of the information contained therein. Perhaps they are plainly unwilling to do that. Hopefully this information will have the same effect on the military industrial complex as the subprime mortgages had on the financial sector. It obviously wouldn't be completely dissolved or removed because we need it. But it'll whittle it down and clean up the mess. I can only hope that's what it does. It had better...
We'll need to wait for the public to digest the information. Thank you Wikileaks for shining the light in the face of an establishment with so many faces. This is the equivalent of Uncle Sam posing for a mug shot.
For fucking shame, you militaristic, industrialized bigots.
It should be interesting to see how the media giants dance to the broken beat of the upcoming social drumming. I won't be listening, though. It's already really, really loud here. Did you know I can play the drums?
It looks like it's gotten farther along than I had suspected. At least once in this blog, I think I've touched on the mentality of a soldier and what it must take to justify a successful career over time. With so many generations living who have fought in battles and wars, which generation is possibly bold enough to choose not to fight? By the time a soldier is in an Official position to make that decision for a younger generation, the wheels of the military establishment are simply spinning too fast for any sort of emotional stream to penetrate the construction of such a machine. If seasoned military veterans had a reputation for being sensitive and emotionally thoughtful, then maybe such an undertaking would be possible. But I suspect at least one person other than myself finds humor in that concept.
Follow me here. When a person chooses a career as serious as deadly matters, when technology can protect a soldier better and longer than ever, when a nation's population is so bombarded with breaking news information produced by entertainment psychologists, what soldier is seriously going to refuse to fight just "for the greater good?" All that person thinks they might stands to lose is... well... let's think about it: they think they're about to lose their own pride by not fighting along with the respect of everyone he or she has ever known. What sort of a fighter stops fighting? You don't tell a doctor that medicine isn't a good idea after all. You don't tell an accountant that debt doesn't matter. After years of training and battle, does the soldier's sense of duty ever deteriorate over time? I'd say it seldom does. Is it likely that the companionship experienced during times of training and battle came to define a major part of their lives? I think it's very likely. And is it possible that due to the incredibly intense and often highly dramatic nature of those circumstances that the person will come to assume those emotions as a foundation for making other decisions of a lesser magnitude in the future? I'm not gonna answer that one for you. Any human who has ever felt strongly about anything has dealt with the pangs of emotion associated with similar circumstances down the road. Humans love eachother. And watching other humans we care about die is a serious matter which 9.9 times out of 10 will affect the way we live our lives thereafter. Try to tell an American soldier that the battle his best friend just died in was not justified at the political level. Let's see how much conjecture takes place before his or her emotional level overheats. After all, you're not only calling into question their own personal involvement in the affair, but you're potentially tarnishing the legacy of their friend for dying for an unjust cause. What respectable broadcasting company exists that's willing to cover emotional topics like this with proper allowances for time, explanation and the emotional resolutions required to develop a conversation like that to ANY kind of a conclusion? Not a fucking one... not a single fucking company will do it. But you can believe every company will have the newest, brightest animations of spinning globes and million-dollar personas ready to present exquisite 3-minute long, diluted opinions right before they bend over and take it up the ass by Johnson & Johnson, Geiko or whatever other company approves of their moronic fact-hatchery.
But it seems it hasn't stopped there. The older generation of leaders apparently has overlooked the true well being of the soldiers. And in their own ongoing struggle to solidify their legacies as successful leaders in battle or otherwise, to their progeny and their egotistical Beyond, perhaps they have now for the first time officially sought battle when it was anything but necessary. Have the most steadfast survivors actually forgotten that the best chance for survival always exists where bullets do not?
If the common tendency between humans leaned towards radical, violent aggression in the majority of everyday circumstances, perhaps something like the conclusions I'm drawing from these documents could be understood more easily. But it does not. And that leaves me only with the notion that unfortunately, several people who are in positions to make the most powerful rational decisions in human history are completely unable because they don't feel they have the ability to reject the suggested, the embedded reactionary course of action. They are unwilling to temper the drumming of a media gone awry. This is a serious problem.
This is such a foul show.
I can't think about it anymore tonight. I sincerely hope this news remains one of the most important stories for at least as many years as the Iraq War has been active. It will be for me. I can't speak for the rest of you.
I'm almost shaking just thinking my way through this.
I can't think about it tonight after such a long week. This is such a monumental failure that it's impossible for me to express my discontentment.
Anyone who's spouting opinions right now clearly has not sat down and considered the magnitude of the information contained therein. Perhaps they are plainly unwilling to do that. Hopefully this information will have the same effect on the military industrial complex as the subprime mortgages had on the financial sector. It obviously wouldn't be completely dissolved or removed because we need it. But it'll whittle it down and clean up the mess. I can only hope that's what it does. It had better...
We'll need to wait for the public to digest the information. Thank you Wikileaks for shining the light in the face of an establishment with so many faces. This is the equivalent of Uncle Sam posing for a mug shot.
For fucking shame, you militaristic, industrialized bigots.
It should be interesting to see how the media giants dance to the broken beat of the upcoming social drumming. I won't be listening, though. It's already really, really loud here. Did you know I can play the drums?
It looks like it's gotten farther along than I had suspected. At least once in this blog, I think I've touched on the mentality of a soldier and what it must take to justify a successful career over time. With so many generations living who have fought in battles and wars, which generation is possibly bold enough to choose not to fight? By the time a soldier is in an Official position to make that decision for a younger generation, the wheels of the military establishment are simply spinning too fast for any sort of emotional stream to penetrate the construction of such a machine. If seasoned military veterans had a reputation for being sensitive and emotionally thoughtful, then maybe such an undertaking would be possible. But I suspect at least one person other than myself finds humor in that concept.
Follow me here. When a person chooses a career as serious as deadly matters, when technology can protect a soldier better and longer than ever, when a nation's population is so bombarded with breaking news information produced by entertainment psychologists, what soldier is seriously going to refuse to fight just "for the greater good?" All that person thinks they might stands to lose is... well... let's think about it: they think they're about to lose their own pride by not fighting along with the respect of everyone he or she has ever known. What sort of a fighter stops fighting? You don't tell a doctor that medicine isn't a good idea after all. You don't tell an accountant that debt doesn't matter. After years of training and battle, does the soldier's sense of duty ever deteriorate over time? I'd say it seldom does. Is it likely that the companionship experienced during times of training and battle came to define a major part of their lives? I think it's very likely. And is it possible that due to the incredibly intense and often highly dramatic nature of those circumstances that the person will come to assume those emotions as a foundation for making other decisions of a lesser magnitude in the future? I'm not gonna answer that one for you. Any human who has ever felt strongly about anything has dealt with the pangs of emotion associated with similar circumstances down the road. Humans love eachother. And watching other humans we care about die is a serious matter which 9.9 times out of 10 will affect the way we live our lives thereafter. Try to tell an American soldier that the battle his best friend just died in was not justified at the political level. Let's see how much conjecture takes place before his or her emotional level overheats. After all, you're not only calling into question their own personal involvement in the affair, but you're potentially tarnishing the legacy of their friend for dying for an unjust cause. What respectable broadcasting company exists that's willing to cover emotional topics like this with proper allowances for time, explanation and the emotional resolutions required to develop a conversation like that to ANY kind of a conclusion? Not a fucking one... not a single fucking company will do it. But you can believe every company will have the newest, brightest animations of spinning globes and million-dollar personas ready to present exquisite 3-minute long, diluted opinions right before they bend over and take it up the ass by Johnson & Johnson, Geiko or whatever other company approves of their moronic fact-hatchery.
But it seems it hasn't stopped there. The older generation of leaders apparently has overlooked the true well being of the soldiers. And in their own ongoing struggle to solidify their legacies as successful leaders in battle or otherwise, to their progeny and their egotistical Beyond, perhaps they have now for the first time officially sought battle when it was anything but necessary. Have the most steadfast survivors actually forgotten that the best chance for survival always exists where bullets do not?
If the common tendency between humans leaned towards radical, violent aggression in the majority of everyday circumstances, perhaps something like the conclusions I'm drawing from these documents could be understood more easily. But it does not. And that leaves me only with the notion that unfortunately, several people who are in positions to make the most powerful rational decisions in human history are completely unable because they don't feel they have the ability to reject the suggested, the embedded reactionary course of action. They are unwilling to temper the drumming of a media gone awry. This is a serious problem.
This is such a foul show.
I can't think about it anymore tonight. I sincerely hope this news remains one of the most important stories for at least as many years as the Iraq War has been active. It will be for me. I can't speak for the rest of you.
I'm almost shaking just thinking my way through this.
October 21, 2010
Sennheiser and a wool cap
I think I've started a post like this before. But, sometimes things just come together.
As a case in point, Sennheiser makes some stupidly great headphones. Now, since I've graduated to god-tier listening levels, I feel required to pose the following question to myself. This is highly necessary. Have I become one of the audiophile dweebs I've always criticized... one of those guys who's too wrapped up in reproducing sound instead of refining their ability to create it? No way. It simply cannot be. And now that I'm thinking about it, the opposite leaves me excited. It makes me wanna shout, "Mercy! I'm emotionally vibrant whilst considering myself a gangster!"
Yeaaaaaaah XD Slammin.
Ok. Seriously, though... these headphones are outstanding. I had completely forgotten what it felt like to have porous playback... layered comfort. Basslines are supposed to keep you warm at night. And the highs? The highs are supposed to make you kinda cock your head to get comfortable with it and then just get clobbered by the downbeat. I don't know what I'm talking about.
No idea.
At any rate, it does feel good to be a gangster.
Hours are many with twelve a'workin each day before today this week. Today was a cozy 10.
I got to go to the electronics store to get a new test headset for the softphones for the agents. I got a Sennheiser pair. And after testing it this afternoon, I went back and got a pair for myself. I'm so happy I did. Earbuds just... they just don't do it. They're great for on-the-go stuff, but I've outgrown my piss-off-the-downstairs-neighbors phase and just use headphones at home. Now... when I play guitar... that's another story :D
My mom was up here for a couple weeks visiting family. It was good to see her in such great spirits. She always is anyway, but you know what I mean. I hung out with her a bit and fulfilled my obligation as her tech-geek son by scraping data off an old, failing hard drive. Mission barely accomplished.
Insert badass drummer here. Sorry. I'm just testing these headphones on all kinds of stuff. After using $4 WalMart headphones for several months (yes, I got the nice $4 ones), this is incredible.
I had wanted to write a bunch more here but... I'm all ***** tonight so I don't think I can do it.
I'm just gonna crawl over to my pillow and call it a day.
>>"1234" by Feist on The Reminder
As a case in point, Sennheiser makes some stupidly great headphones. Now, since I've graduated to god-tier listening levels, I feel required to pose the following question to myself. This is highly necessary. Have I become one of the audiophile dweebs I've always criticized... one of those guys who's too wrapped up in reproducing sound instead of refining their ability to create it? No way. It simply cannot be. And now that I'm thinking about it, the opposite leaves me excited. It makes me wanna shout, "Mercy! I'm emotionally vibrant whilst considering myself a gangster!"
Yeaaaaaaah XD Slammin.
Ok. Seriously, though... these headphones are outstanding. I had completely forgotten what it felt like to have porous playback... layered comfort. Basslines are supposed to keep you warm at night. And the highs? The highs are supposed to make you kinda cock your head to get comfortable with it and then just get clobbered by the downbeat. I don't know what I'm talking about.
No idea.
At any rate, it does feel good to be a gangster.
Hours are many with twelve a'workin each day before today this week. Today was a cozy 10.
I got to go to the electronics store to get a new test headset for the softphones for the agents. I got a Sennheiser pair. And after testing it this afternoon, I went back and got a pair for myself. I'm so happy I did. Earbuds just... they just don't do it. They're great for on-the-go stuff, but I've outgrown my piss-off-the-downstairs-neighbors phase and just use headphones at home. Now... when I play guitar... that's another story :D
My mom was up here for a couple weeks visiting family. It was good to see her in such great spirits. She always is anyway, but you know what I mean. I hung out with her a bit and fulfilled my obligation as her tech-geek son by scraping data off an old, failing hard drive. Mission barely accomplished.
Insert badass drummer here. Sorry. I'm just testing these headphones on all kinds of stuff. After using $4 WalMart headphones for several months (yes, I got the nice $4 ones), this is incredible.
I had wanted to write a bunch more here but... I'm all ***** tonight so I don't think I can do it.
I'm just gonna crawl over to my pillow and call it a day.
>>"1234" by Feist on The Reminder
September 29, 2010
Folds in your hands
Well it's a bit hard to contain myself with my headphone volume at 11. It's makes this communicative medium seem as relevant as a shadow in the night. But whatever. Hopefully the people reading this consider the setting alternative.
So rip it open. These guys are so rad... been listenin to em for a few months now. I think they've gotten good radio time so y'all are all probly tired of em. But... for the love of god, respect the synthesizer.
There's just.... look, people. When it comes to heavy synthesizers/pop keyboards, there's a very fine line between the grungy, mash-your-fists-into-the-keys garage approach and the highly refined grumblings of an electronic behemoth. Granted, the instrument itself can cover a lot of ground. But the real magic is in a synthesizer than can pick up a three-ton rock and throw it into the crowd to make some waves. Some tones just weren't meant to be created by an instrument descending from the most regal of the regal. But this tone, which I consider to be a cross of this lady and this thing, is just collabulous. That's "colossal" and "fabulous" mixed together.
Kindly refer to the rolling arpeggios in the prechorus on top of the orchestral track underneath.
You can hear the nastiness and the grumble ring out at the end of the song.
Lasagna's done.
I believe in a world where literacy is paramount. I believe in a world where men and women can achieve the same. And I believe in a world where I don't fucking burn myself every time I try to take something out of the oven. It sucks!
The week is half done (finishing writing while this pound of sexy pasta cools off). It's been pretty nice so far. The weather has been overcast. But with my American diet of officemeal and 32 ounce headphones, I've hardly noticed.
So... I'm... gonna make this unbelievable culinary masterpiece disappear. And then get back to work.
Enjoy the synthesizer :)
lol
>> "Folds in Your Hands" by Passion Pit on Manners
September 24, 2010
Singin sweet songs...
...of melodies pure and true.
Sayin, "This is my message to you-ou-ou."
Anyway, Bob graced me with his presence a minute ago. And now I'm sorta chillin with the crickets out the window.
Another week has drawn to a close out here. After work, I went over to the mall and got a couple shirts to keep things changing. That image doesn't have any immediate relevance, but google suggested it meant "changing." And I can't pass up a picture of Sean Connery next to a massive wolvo-bear.
I got home and my landlord has returned from her two weeks in New York. Admittedly, I was bummed. I really wanted to take the guitar for another ridiculously long spin through reality. I settled on stuffed green peppers and Rachmaninoff on pandora.
I've been working on the rings consistently. Last night----
Ever have to just stop and ask yourself why in god's name don't your headphones go any louder? It's like... for fuck's sake... I just spent an entire week doing everything EXCEPT listening to Rachmaninoff. And now that I'm here, the old man in the old recording is just ... not LOUD enough. Damnit all, Rachy. You should have written this whole piece fortissimo. Obbbbbviously. The nerve...
I am pleased to announce that I have just tied an old dress shirt around my head to mash the headphones against my ears. It just... man....
It just feels so good to be a gangster.
Anyway, I've been working on the rings out back consistently. I actually got out of the office at decent hours this week. So I'd get home with a little sunlight left and go out and give the dogs something to bark about. Hey. Look at my horn here. Hang on. Yep. This is my horn. And this is me tooting it.
I did 15 pullups in a row yesterday. My record was 18 when I was like... 10. So I'm getting back into the rhythm of being less computerized. And it's good. If only Rachmaninoff would play louder. I can't take this anymore. I need something loud.
And, of course, as soon as I decide I want to change it, he finally presents the melody. I touched on this a while back when talking about Liszt. These guys just go all over the place and then decide, "Oh... enough of this madness. Let me play something more beautiful than anything that's ever been heard before." And then they take the silver cover off the melody and... if you're anything like me, you pretty much just geek out in an unrivaled stupor.
Whatever. I need volume right now. This is better.
The lyrics are kinda depressing. But this beat just flows incredulity. You've gotta wait for it to come in. She talks about rage and concrete and cityscapes. And then it just rolls. Wait for the beat. Seriously. Just lean back and wait for it. Let her talk about the city for a minute. And listen to her. It's easy.
Are you waiting? Fucking wait already. Stop reading. Cause it breaks...
The beat breaks in big time.
I can't like.... tell you to stop reading. I'm just assuming you want to get as much out of these songs as I do. So sit your ass back and relax. See what she has to say...
When the guy says, "Yeah, check it," you may continue reading :)
Some things come in pairs. Some things flow in a series and you know what's coming next. Sometimes you just vibe and don't give much of a damn what comes next. That's where life is. Dropping it all in neutral and keeping an awareness about you that lets you examine any situation in any light you want. That's what this music does for me. The simplicity just cuts all the madness around me. When the beat hits, it's like marionnettes getting cut from their handles so they can finally relax. It's like I'm in the middle of some vicious, uncontrollable mess of earthly happenstance when my mind's camera just drops to 1/4 speed and I blink into black and white. Maybe the x-axis on the camera even get a little loose and starts drifting and panning a little faster and faster. Spacial orientation. Make of it whatever you want. I don't know. It's just nice. Maybe I'm over analyzing. But... that's the only way I ever get anything done. And it's the only way I can really ever relax... analyze whatever's on my mind to death until it turns into a nonsensical mass of... dated interpersonal egotism. It's like... just rubbing your fingers together to clean them instead of washing them. Nine times out of nine, humans are thinking of themselves. When you accept the fact that we're all completely selfish, working to evolve our own emotional mind, the issues you were just dealing with are trivial. And you wonder about much more comfortable possibilities in the future. Whatever pieces were just bugging you are made up of pretty much the same things you are. What was just happening was just happening. And it's of little importance to your future.
What the hell am I talking about? Damn song...
The reverb on the rimshot on this song is so great. They clipped it, though... rather than letting it fade out naturally. So.... I think it's looped.
Now I just don't know what I want to listen to next. Not your problem, I suppose.
I was sitting in the office this evening after everyone left. And out the window was a kind sight, a very kind scene. The imagery I can provide does little to sustain the suspended beauty I had in my imagination at the time. It was definitely one of those instances I described earlier about the camera in my head just breaking to 1/4 speed, black and white, and everything just sorta became its own entity... with its own little story in time. The sun was shattering through the physical at every possible point imaginable. And the visual consistency made me consider the fragile, yet amazingly persistent forces in inhospitable places like... plumes of boiling water at the bottom of the ocean... places where the extreme forces are relentlessly destroying eachother but perfectly allowing life to exist on their periphery at the same time. In this light, I was a bystander in my own life. And I was able to view the fragile, yet amazingly persistent forces in which we live... inside an equally random, equally harsh existence.
And then I got about five or six great images of something from a long time ago.
The Barn Playhouse, if it still exists, is a little, independently run theater in downtown New London, NH.
The first feeling I got was actually a couple intertwined: a flash of the soft grass below me as I walked with my mom toward the red building. I vividly recalled my excitement as I anticipated seeing what songs and stories the acting troupe had perfected since I had been there last. That's all they ever did... perfect things. They were college kids who all lived nearby and rehearsed daily through the summer. They were clear-cut celebrities in my mind: women whose charm could render me absolutely speechless and men who were capable of rattling the rafters with their voices. The second part of the first emotion was looking up into the trees, probably considering my friends back near my grandparents' house. There were always fun things going on up there. If it wasn't one thing, it was the next. I was probably thinking about playing with friends or just... sitting on a hill or under birch trees and just watching people relax.
The next image in the memory, maybe six or ten frames of the rolling reel, consisted of me standing on the hand-built porch and being surrounded by small-town, chattering friends. The smell of the antique building mixed with the friendly atmosphere of laughing men and women created a buzz around the street. The sturdy doors were wide open on the front of the old building. And people were already heading inside. So I was there. And I was next in line to get a pillow. The theater itself only had wooden planks for seats, if I recall correctly. And the real racket here, the real cash cow for the acting troupe wasn't the ticket entry or anything like that. It was the nickel they charged for a butt cushion :D I imagine my grandmother gave me a couple nickels and this image consisted of being bored because the people in front of me weren't getting their pillows and getting inside fast enough. I was sort of looking at the ground and some old guy's pants in front of me while I leaned against the huge wooden box holding the pillows. I never could see into that thing because I was so short. I guess I had already stopped trying to look in it and was just waiting, staring at this guy's plaid pants in front of me and smelling the old, comfortably musty pile of ass-pillows just on the other side of the wooden wall. I imagine some old woman took the change, gave me the pillows and I thanked her with explicit instruction from my grandmother. Otherwise I would have obviously just walked right in and picked out the best seat so I could have the best view of whichever astoundingly beautiful, astoundingly mature 16-year-old was playing Annie that night... or whichever story it might have been.
The next image was of the lights while looking on from the second story. I think it was Annie, actually. She was sitting on a stool or something and there were a couple guys on stage. And... I don't remember the tone of the song, but she was lighted. There was something so great about the lighting in there. The place maybe held 75 people at max capacity. And sometimes it really felt like max capacity. It would warm up after about thirty minutes and everybody would start fanning themselves with their programs. Anyway, the lighting gave way to the massive amounts of stage makeup that I never understood. I think it just helps the actors get into character, when it comes right down to it. I don't even know. It must be like their war paint, or something. Anyway, I could see the lighted faces on stage and those titans were giving it their everything.
Next was the sound. I don't remember if I'm imagining this or not. But I think there were actually live musicians who played at these performances. I seem to recall always leaning forward and putting my head on the balcony railing to get a glimpse of the musicians and the audience below. I really don't remember. But I'm almost certain there were musicians under the stage playing the music... in a pit of sorts. And I definitely think I spent a good amount of time trying to spot them and figure out which instruments were doing what. I think maybe I saw a piano player once or twice... and a drummer tapping away on the high-hats and mini-snare. They could only use a small one because the space was so tiny! I hope I'm right about that. I have no idea. You know what? I'm sure of it. It was a live band. I am as sure as I am because I remember that in at least one show, the snare drum was used as a gunshot. And it scared the living piss out of everyone in the tiny building.
That's it. That's where my mind went for a fraction of a second in the Virginian twilight today. I wish it wasn't this hard to convey a split second of an afternoon to people. All these things are around us so often that we just take them for granted, I guess. I, for one, probably just assume people are as introverted and... distracted as I am. The way I see it, everyone is introverted. No one would possibly ever go around just saying things without thinking about the repercussions... would they? Right...
But I have a feeling that if most people analyzed things as much as I do, they'd just sorta crumble and... drool on themselves.
Anyway, I'm done for now. I'm tired from the week. And I want to play a little more guitar.
I'll leave you with a cool song... but a perfectly bizarre video. "Sound can be seen." Good luck.
>> "The Last Trick" by Anja Garbarek
Sayin, "This is my message to you-ou-ou."
Anyway, Bob graced me with his presence a minute ago. And now I'm sorta chillin with the crickets out the window.
Another week has drawn to a close out here. After work, I went over to the mall and got a couple shirts to keep things changing. That image doesn't have any immediate relevance, but google suggested it meant "changing." And I can't pass up a picture of Sean Connery next to a massive wolvo-bear.
I got home and my landlord has returned from her two weeks in New York. Admittedly, I was bummed. I really wanted to take the guitar for another ridiculously long spin through reality. I settled on stuffed green peppers and Rachmaninoff on pandora.
I've been working on the rings consistently. Last night----
Ever have to just stop and ask yourself why in god's name don't your headphones go any louder? It's like... for fuck's sake... I just spent an entire week doing everything EXCEPT listening to Rachmaninoff. And now that I'm here, the old man in the old recording is just ... not LOUD enough. Damnit all, Rachy. You should have written this whole piece fortissimo. Obbbbbviously. The nerve...
I am pleased to announce that I have just tied an old dress shirt around my head to mash the headphones against my ears. It just... man....
It just feels so good to be a gangster.
Anyway, I've been working on the rings out back consistently. I actually got out of the office at decent hours this week. So I'd get home with a little sunlight left and go out and give the dogs something to bark about. Hey. Look at my horn here. Hang on. Yep. This is my horn. And this is me tooting it.
I did 15 pullups in a row yesterday. My record was 18 when I was like... 10. So I'm getting back into the rhythm of being less computerized. And it's good. If only Rachmaninoff would play louder. I can't take this anymore. I need something loud.
And, of course, as soon as I decide I want to change it, he finally presents the melody. I touched on this a while back when talking about Liszt. These guys just go all over the place and then decide, "Oh... enough of this madness. Let me play something more beautiful than anything that's ever been heard before." And then they take the silver cover off the melody and... if you're anything like me, you pretty much just geek out in an unrivaled stupor.
Whatever. I need volume right now. This is better.
The lyrics are kinda depressing. But this beat just flows incredulity. You've gotta wait for it to come in. She talks about rage and concrete and cityscapes. And then it just rolls. Wait for the beat. Seriously. Just lean back and wait for it. Let her talk about the city for a minute. And listen to her. It's easy.
Are you waiting? Fucking wait already. Stop reading. Cause it breaks...
The beat breaks in big time.
I can't like.... tell you to stop reading. I'm just assuming you want to get as much out of these songs as I do. So sit your ass back and relax. See what she has to say...
When the guy says, "Yeah, check it," you may continue reading :)
Some things come in pairs. Some things flow in a series and you know what's coming next. Sometimes you just vibe and don't give much of a damn what comes next. That's where life is. Dropping it all in neutral and keeping an awareness about you that lets you examine any situation in any light you want. That's what this music does for me. The simplicity just cuts all the madness around me. When the beat hits, it's like marionnettes getting cut from their handles so they can finally relax. It's like I'm in the middle of some vicious, uncontrollable mess of earthly happenstance when my mind's camera just drops to 1/4 speed and I blink into black and white. Maybe the x-axis on the camera even get a little loose and starts drifting and panning a little faster and faster. Spacial orientation. Make of it whatever you want. I don't know. It's just nice. Maybe I'm over analyzing. But... that's the only way I ever get anything done. And it's the only way I can really ever relax... analyze whatever's on my mind to death until it turns into a nonsensical mass of... dated interpersonal egotism. It's like... just rubbing your fingers together to clean them instead of washing them. Nine times out of nine, humans are thinking of themselves. When you accept the fact that we're all completely selfish, working to evolve our own emotional mind, the issues you were just dealing with are trivial. And you wonder about much more comfortable possibilities in the future. Whatever pieces were just bugging you are made up of pretty much the same things you are. What was just happening was just happening. And it's of little importance to your future.
What the hell am I talking about? Damn song...
The reverb on the rimshot on this song is so great. They clipped it, though... rather than letting it fade out naturally. So.... I think it's looped.
Now I just don't know what I want to listen to next. Not your problem, I suppose.
I was sitting in the office this evening after everyone left. And out the window was a kind sight, a very kind scene. The imagery I can provide does little to sustain the suspended beauty I had in my imagination at the time. It was definitely one of those instances I described earlier about the camera in my head just breaking to 1/4 speed, black and white, and everything just sorta became its own entity... with its own little story in time. The sun was shattering through the physical at every possible point imaginable. And the visual consistency made me consider the fragile, yet amazingly persistent forces in inhospitable places like... plumes of boiling water at the bottom of the ocean... places where the extreme forces are relentlessly destroying eachother but perfectly allowing life to exist on their periphery at the same time. In this light, I was a bystander in my own life. And I was able to view the fragile, yet amazingly persistent forces in which we live... inside an equally random, equally harsh existence.
And then I got about five or six great images of something from a long time ago.
The Barn Playhouse, if it still exists, is a little, independently run theater in downtown New London, NH.
The first feeling I got was actually a couple intertwined: a flash of the soft grass below me as I walked with my mom toward the red building. I vividly recalled my excitement as I anticipated seeing what songs and stories the acting troupe had perfected since I had been there last. That's all they ever did... perfect things. They were college kids who all lived nearby and rehearsed daily through the summer. They were clear-cut celebrities in my mind: women whose charm could render me absolutely speechless and men who were capable of rattling the rafters with their voices. The second part of the first emotion was looking up into the trees, probably considering my friends back near my grandparents' house. There were always fun things going on up there. If it wasn't one thing, it was the next. I was probably thinking about playing with friends or just... sitting on a hill or under birch trees and just watching people relax.
The next image in the memory, maybe six or ten frames of the rolling reel, consisted of me standing on the hand-built porch and being surrounded by small-town, chattering friends. The smell of the antique building mixed with the friendly atmosphere of laughing men and women created a buzz around the street. The sturdy doors were wide open on the front of the old building. And people were already heading inside. So I was there. And I was next in line to get a pillow. The theater itself only had wooden planks for seats, if I recall correctly. And the real racket here, the real cash cow for the acting troupe wasn't the ticket entry or anything like that. It was the nickel they charged for a butt cushion :D I imagine my grandmother gave me a couple nickels and this image consisted of being bored because the people in front of me weren't getting their pillows and getting inside fast enough. I was sort of looking at the ground and some old guy's pants in front of me while I leaned against the huge wooden box holding the pillows. I never could see into that thing because I was so short. I guess I had already stopped trying to look in it and was just waiting, staring at this guy's plaid pants in front of me and smelling the old, comfortably musty pile of ass-pillows just on the other side of the wooden wall. I imagine some old woman took the change, gave me the pillows and I thanked her with explicit instruction from my grandmother. Otherwise I would have obviously just walked right in and picked out the best seat so I could have the best view of whichever astoundingly beautiful, astoundingly mature 16-year-old was playing Annie that night... or whichever story it might have been.
The next image was of the lights while looking on from the second story. I think it was Annie, actually. She was sitting on a stool or something and there were a couple guys on stage. And... I don't remember the tone of the song, but she was lighted. There was something so great about the lighting in there. The place maybe held 75 people at max capacity. And sometimes it really felt like max capacity. It would warm up after about thirty minutes and everybody would start fanning themselves with their programs. Anyway, the lighting gave way to the massive amounts of stage makeup that I never understood. I think it just helps the actors get into character, when it comes right down to it. I don't even know. It must be like their war paint, or something. Anyway, I could see the lighted faces on stage and those titans were giving it their everything.
Next was the sound. I don't remember if I'm imagining this or not. But I think there were actually live musicians who played at these performances. I seem to recall always leaning forward and putting my head on the balcony railing to get a glimpse of the musicians and the audience below. I really don't remember. But I'm almost certain there were musicians under the stage playing the music... in a pit of sorts. And I definitely think I spent a good amount of time trying to spot them and figure out which instruments were doing what. I think maybe I saw a piano player once or twice... and a drummer tapping away on the high-hats and mini-snare. They could only use a small one because the space was so tiny! I hope I'm right about that. I have no idea. You know what? I'm sure of it. It was a live band. I am as sure as I am because I remember that in at least one show, the snare drum was used as a gunshot. And it scared the living piss out of everyone in the tiny building.
That's it. That's where my mind went for a fraction of a second in the Virginian twilight today. I wish it wasn't this hard to convey a split second of an afternoon to people. All these things are around us so often that we just take them for granted, I guess. I, for one, probably just assume people are as introverted and... distracted as I am. The way I see it, everyone is introverted. No one would possibly ever go around just saying things without thinking about the repercussions... would they? Right...
But I have a feeling that if most people analyzed things as much as I do, they'd just sorta crumble and... drool on themselves.
Anyway, I'm done for now. I'm tired from the week. And I want to play a little more guitar.
I'll leave you with a cool song... but a perfectly bizarre video. "Sound can be seen." Good luck.
>> "The Last Trick" by Anja Garbarek
September 21, 2010
Music Mind
I just finished playing guitar for a cool two-hundred and ten minutes... without stopping. My mind is happier now.
The past few mornings (5, exactly), have been punctuated by the neighbors' doberman going completely apeshit between 6:34 and 6:36am. The consistency is frightening.
Today was good. I was doing things with stuff and working hard at it. I talked to some people and agreed with most of what they said. I had a flipshit conversation with an engineer at... I can't remember what it's called. They're in India. The company developed a server monitoring program and this guy was going to email me later in the day with more information about something. This character used the word "yanti" as his phonetic expression when attempting to communicate the letter "y" in his email address. He had already sidestepped two of my questions about the program so after trying to make both heads and tails out of what the hell he was saying, I simply asked him to spell his phonetic translation so I could understand the single letter he was attempting to convey. This provided me with an irreplaceable opportunity to remove the phone from my ear and laugh heartily. "Hey man, you got any yanti?"
Ah, the yanti.
I was listening to the radio for much of the day. I took notes.
"Someday we might learn to tell the truth.
We might even find the fountains of our youth."
That's from a Brandi Carlile song, "Closer to You." It hit a vein and I wanted to write it down. I was daydreaming at the time and considering the piecemeal structures we create over our own heads from the examples set by our parents. And I decided that most people end up just wanting to go back to the same mental state they were in during their childhood. In many cases, this most likely includes the habits instilled in them by their parents and their parents before them. And this led me to believe that knowing what is good is easy. It does not require speech to communicate what is or is not good. What requires communication is the reasoning for either acting or not acting on that goodness. The only reasons many people ever consider are those which were supplied to them initially. We humans treat emotions like instincts, strangely enough. We never consider changing them because they usually come and go at about the same time in the same situations. I consider a boy learning things from his father to be tantamount to a young animal learning how to hunt. Many years later, after the father is gone, the child will still have an unfounded desire to do certain things much like the animal who simply must hunt. We do it because we want to feel close to eachother. Animals do it because they have to survive. Anyway, that quote resonated with me because telling the truth to ourselves will allow us to reclaim the youthful creativity we once had, the youthful creativity that once allowed us to look past the darkness of mundane responsibility and into the corners of creative motivation, comfort and personal inspiration. I believe this is why the lyrics were written in this order, either knowingly or not.
Maybe that's what he meant when he said, "Yanti."
The next note is:
"snare drum in 'in your eyes' by peter gabriel is outstanding... and cymbals"
Enough said. I'd link it but the youtube video has poor audio quality. I'm a sucker for tight heads on thin snares.
Next is the keyboard slam in Ryan Adams's "New York, New York" at 2:31. Most people would just look right past it because it's "part of the song." You're damn right it's part of the song. Except this part picks the song up by its suspenders and throws it's ass back towards the speakers. There's something really great about a musician who's normally in the background and gets the chance to just geek out for a minute in the spotlight. It takes incredible composure as a musician to walk the line like that... to be comfortable enough to play in the background all day but willing to stand up and rip it when the time arrives.
Next is Amy Cook's song "Hotel Lights." I had heard this once before. The initial vocal melody reminded me of an old British or Celtic melody. The rest of the song is just really, really peaceful and I am unable to do any single thing while it's playing. Anything. The audio mix is exquisite. The strings are liquid. The video was shot in Austin. It's a great song and it's good to hear an artist who makes the microphone work for them, not the other way around.
Last in my notes from the day is the following:
"there's nothing like some coldplay"
Done and done.
>> "Hotel Lights" by Amy Cook
The past few mornings (5, exactly), have been punctuated by the neighbors' doberman going completely apeshit between 6:34 and 6:36am. The consistency is frightening.
Today was good. I was doing things with stuff and working hard at it. I talked to some people and agreed with most of what they said. I had a flipshit conversation with an engineer at... I can't remember what it's called. They're in India. The company developed a server monitoring program and this guy was going to email me later in the day with more information about something. This character used the word "yanti" as his phonetic expression when attempting to communicate the letter "y" in his email address. He had already sidestepped two of my questions about the program so after trying to make both heads and tails out of what the hell he was saying, I simply asked him to spell his phonetic translation so I could understand the single letter he was attempting to convey. This provided me with an irreplaceable opportunity to remove the phone from my ear and laugh heartily. "Hey man, you got any yanti?"
Ah, the yanti.
I was listening to the radio for much of the day. I took notes.
"Someday we might learn to tell the truth.
We might even find the fountains of our youth."
That's from a Brandi Carlile song, "Closer to You." It hit a vein and I wanted to write it down. I was daydreaming at the time and considering the piecemeal structures we create over our own heads from the examples set by our parents. And I decided that most people end up just wanting to go back to the same mental state they were in during their childhood. In many cases, this most likely includes the habits instilled in them by their parents and their parents before them. And this led me to believe that knowing what is good is easy. It does not require speech to communicate what is or is not good. What requires communication is the reasoning for either acting or not acting on that goodness. The only reasons many people ever consider are those which were supplied to them initially. We humans treat emotions like instincts, strangely enough. We never consider changing them because they usually come and go at about the same time in the same situations. I consider a boy learning things from his father to be tantamount to a young animal learning how to hunt. Many years later, after the father is gone, the child will still have an unfounded desire to do certain things much like the animal who simply must hunt. We do it because we want to feel close to eachother. Animals do it because they have to survive. Anyway, that quote resonated with me because telling the truth to ourselves will allow us to reclaim the youthful creativity we once had, the youthful creativity that once allowed us to look past the darkness of mundane responsibility and into the corners of creative motivation, comfort and personal inspiration. I believe this is why the lyrics were written in this order, either knowingly or not.
Maybe that's what he meant when he said, "Yanti."
The next note is:
"snare drum in 'in your eyes' by peter gabriel is outstanding... and cymbals"
Enough said. I'd link it but the youtube video has poor audio quality. I'm a sucker for tight heads on thin snares.
Next is the keyboard slam in Ryan Adams's "New York, New York" at 2:31. Most people would just look right past it because it's "part of the song." You're damn right it's part of the song. Except this part picks the song up by its suspenders and throws it's ass back towards the speakers. There's something really great about a musician who's normally in the background and gets the chance to just geek out for a minute in the spotlight. It takes incredible composure as a musician to walk the line like that... to be comfortable enough to play in the background all day but willing to stand up and rip it when the time arrives.
Next is Amy Cook's song "Hotel Lights." I had heard this once before. The initial vocal melody reminded me of an old British or Celtic melody. The rest of the song is just really, really peaceful and I am unable to do any single thing while it's playing. Anything. The audio mix is exquisite. The strings are liquid. The video was shot in Austin. It's a great song and it's good to hear an artist who makes the microphone work for them, not the other way around.
Last in my notes from the day is the following:
"there's nothing like some coldplay"
Done and done.
>> "Hotel Lights" by Amy Cook
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