I haven’t written. I’m not going to apologize again. A lot has happened. A lot has manifested itself from thought to reality. A lot is still the same. I’m still suspended in place. Feeling a little more comfortable though. Actually, I’m not at all sure that comfortable is the right word. I guess I am just starting to see the reason in the circumstance. And really appreciating every bit of time I have. You know how they say it’s really all about being present and in the moment. It seems a pretty solid way to go.
I’ve been composing beats on fruity loops. Sipping coffee and smoking the occasional cancer stick. I was going to say something about how “I had Bukowski on my mind”, which I do. All the time it seems now. It’s a Good Life lyric. It’s more real to me now.
I saw a YouTube comment the other day on a Cyndi Lauper video. It was either “When You Were Mine” or “Time After Time”. They had commented that they remember listening to that particular album over and over when they were thirteen and then eventually coming to know all of the feelings that she talk about. And she thanked her mother for that.
I think about music a lot. There is something so intrinsically valuable in it that words cannot express. Only music begets music. It’s something of the heart and of the soul. I think we are music. Art.
Expression of life in our human form. As we are. and As we were. I’m not concerned with perception anymore. It’s a form of reality all it’s own and it will be nevertheless so I except it. I feel more alive for it.
I talk a lot about confusion. Most of us are in a state of confusion. Whether chronic or fleeting. It has a certain looming presence. At least in my generation.
Everything is everywhere all at once. There is so much to absorb. They say children are like sponges. I still feel like a child. In many ways I am. I am always feeling so in between everything. Not to be defined so quickly.
We’ve reached a time where there is no such they are counter culture. All culture has a audience. All culture has advocates everywhere. And the mainstream is the conglomerated combination of all the past counterculture movements.
I feel a lot of it is just simply a style and not a true express of oneself. I do feel that fashion can be a true expression of oneself however, it seems the truth is lost in all the seemingly sameness.
Yet, everyone is just a bizarre little fiber in this fabric.
A couple of weeks ago I got really drunk and wouldn’t you know I made some bad decisions. It’s so darkly humerus to me that alcohol remains the legal drug of choice. I’m not advocating drugs. I just know from experience that there are far better things than alcohol.There are far better things than drugs. But to be honest I think certain people need to partake to truly understand. Kinda like the lesson must be learned the ‘hard way’.
I’m just very experiential. I believe our existence is our purpose. We define it. We decide. The freewill. You get what you put into it. You get the life, the love, the death, you feel you deserve.
We are what we think. It’s been said time and time again. Yet, that is only a mere fraction of who we are. We are the people we talk to. We are the things we do, see, say, touch, feel, smell. The experience.
We are us.
Us is we.
It’s almost nonsensical.
Always the fine line.
Humans are always striving for some time of understanding. But I hear it’s better to understand than to be understood. I used to think I agreed and truly understood that ha! I didn’t.
The older I get the more things fit into place for me. I guess things really do just kinda fall into place. Eventually. One way or the other you have to decide. Either this is good or this is bad or it’s neither and what are you going to do about it.
Love succeeds everything. Even in the magic of fairy tales it is true love’s kiss that can make or break any spell. It is the most powerful of all magic. It’s more than magic.
Love is the state we are so desirous of. Yet, you cannot go chasing after it. It will find you when you have found yourself.
Slowly but surely love will unravel all the layers you have covered yourself in. Whether for protection or for strength or out of confusion.
Love helps you discover more compassion for the world than anything else will.
You know it’s what the world needs now and always has.
I have long missed the days when I used to just type at my computer into my myspace blog without an ounce of proofing or editing and just submit it for the cosmos.
There was something so innocent about my expression of self then. So pure. My mind was sad, compassionate, and delicate but it didn’t truly comprehend the world.
As I have grown with age the world and society make a little more sense. Yes, I said it. Society.
Things are the way they are. Like I said. You must either except this or change this. But you can.
There is no mountain or tree too big to climb There is no trench or pain to deep too overcome
Every moment is a chance. To turn around. To change direction. To stay the same. To live.
But back to the YouTube comment. It made me feel so nostalgic about the music I have come across and come to adore over the years.
I remember at three years old I was obsessed with Ozzy Osborn and Mötley Crüe.
By six I was onto my own hand me down vinyl collection of Motown. The Jackson Five and The Supremes being my favorites.
By eight I had cassettes. Again hand me downs. They were prince, and Blondie, and Cyndi Lauper.
And later I got some Britney Spears.
I believe I was in forth grade when I go my first cd. Which was the first *Nync record. My sister and I had picked it out together.
After that I bought all of Michael Jackson’s cd’s. And my mother gave me more hand me downs.
Then I got into Bright Eyes,The Strokes, The Used, Taking Back Sunday, Brand New. The Shins.
By the time I had started high school I had my own computer and started downloading most of my music.
My taste was forever altered when I turned sixteen years old and my friend Kancy Robison bought me Sergent Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.
My perceptions of the world had really been opened. I started listening to Dylan. He became my favorite of all time. Where MJ once stood.
To this day I have three vinyls that I hold dearly high above all else.
Blonde On Blonde, Thriller, and Some Nights.
While I am so completely compelled to Mr. Crowley by Ozzy Osborn because of the three year old inside of me that was once absolutely obsessed still resides inside of me. While I am still entranced by Motown and Michael Jackson’s voice. While Morrissey seems to understand my bittersweet melancholy more than anyone else and how the music of The Smiths seems such the literal musical translation of his lyrics. And while Conor Oberst is still that reaching, outstretching, suffering, hopelessly hopeful creature that is a huge portion of my heart. Or While The Strokes awaken such nostalgia and good feelings of yesteryear and how the lyrics mean more now and are better understood as I am now then as I were. While Dylan remains the greatest and will always stand there for me. The times do change. But sometimes the change creates such a sense of sameness.
I found out about a month ago that Dylan used to beat his wife Sara. It would be a lie if I didn’t say it broke my heart a little. It really did. But it would also be a lie if I didn’t tell you that a part of me understands the torment.
A friend told me there was an encyclopedia at his university that was about four inches thick on Bob Dylan. We were both memorized at the thought of this.
How does one get a four inch encyclopedia written about their life and their craft?
I mean it’s easy to see how Bob Dylan has it. It would be easy to see that people are compelled to write about it. Music is so intrinsically valuable to the human’s understanding of himself and everything else.
When you master a craft like Dylan. But the truth is Dylan hated the fame. He has said all he could be was “me, whatever that is” and it’s true. We find it so astounding, people artist expressing themselves.
Morrissey is so humble about his work. He doesn’t understand how it could have affect so many people. How it has sustained their life for longer.
But good art does not merely mimic life. It creates life. It breeds new beliefs. New understanding. New inspiration. New purpose. New Meaning.
But the artist doesn’t see the true value of his work in the same way that others do.
I think the best way to be understanding and not to worry about being understood is to just express and let the others have their perceptions about you and your works.
And listen with an open mind and a closed mouth.
The best conversationalist are those who can listen first and speak later.
I think the artist in us all observes and listens carefully and then makes little comments in our art. In our lives.
My dad told me once that Dylan said all he really wanted was that white picket fence.
The 1950’s idealism of the American Dream that never really existed that we are still striving to return to that has never really been.
Yes there were times where some people were safer and didn’t have to worry about enemies for the most part. But much of the world had it’s own enemies merely by birth. And that is an injustice.
So the world is always in a state of confusion. Not just me. Not just this generation. We are always seeking that understanding.
Everyone is a seeker in one way or the other. Some seek fame which is useless and futile. Some seek love but will not find it for their search. Some seek forgiveness and we must oblige if they ask. Some seek answers and for them gradually the picture becomes clearer. But we all seek understanding and acceptance.
These needs do no go away with age. The reality of it is the more you understand the more you can accept and the more you accept the more accepted you can become.
“And you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living cause it’s the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing. Everybody!”
There are times when I really struggle to get out of bed. I’m in a total state of dysania. “Everybody hurts sometimes.”
There are times where I awake without any effort and get up and the day feels alive and brilliant to me and I feel it run through me. ‘Today is the greatest of them all, can’t live for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s much too long”.
Music and art are necessary to sustain our existence at this point and anyone who would say anything to the contrary I would have extreme doubt that they were human at all.
So it’s been quite a while tumblr. It’s a long time coming. But I miss the space here.
I wanted to submit the piano riff I am currently working on in fruity loops. I’m still a beginner but I think it’s pretty and it speaks to my heart strings.
So I share.