Taste Petals

This track got played for 2 hours on repeat.
While I did this.
http://docs.google.com/View?id=dhqhrcvh_6f3kx2sf6
Drunk.

Holy shit equation editing is time consuming.

Found It (to be impossible)

Drums. Guitar. Repetition. Slightly electronic.



It just took an hour of listening to the first ten seconds of a few discographies.


Fetid: There is no conceivable reason why I should not buy one of these with my money.

.....BUT WHICH ONE? They all have their separate uses. Do I want a 25-key velocity sensing keyboard, a 12 pad MIDI controller and X/Y pad, or a 9 knob/slider track controller?

In all probability this will sit on my desk and frustrate me to no end, but the annoying thing is that to make any kind of electronic or hip hop music you need real hardware. Hundreds of dollars of hardware. And you have to start somewhere.

I just have absolutely no idea where to start. It is nothing like learning an instrument, you know? You can go out and buy a guitar, and a book of chords, and go from there.

You can't do that with this kind of music. You have to have a massive library of music and sounds to sample from, a sequencing program and the accompanying knowledge and skill to operate said program, and the hardware to make the music and software interact. And it's impossible, all of it is impossible.

It's like saying "I want to Art, please. I've downloaded Photoshop and I've purchased a tablet and there are a million tutorials on DeviantArt and I'd like to learn how to Art please. Where do I start?"

In fact, it's strikingly similar to that.

Ahh, I go through this every few months.

Here is my dilemma in a nutshell: I watch videos of this nature


And I simply do not know how much of that is the original sample, is the personalized piece of hardware, what software he's running that through, and/or him randomly rubbing his damn thumb on some squares. Somehow he makes a great, if rudimentary, breakbeat sound. No idea.

And occasionally there would be one who did none of this

It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate.

-Ranier Maria Rilke
Letters To A Young Poet
Letter Eight (12 August 1904)

Love Is A Doing Word (Fearless On My Breath)

Edit This one I am really proud of.


a minute in to



HEAR IT?

I took this picture on 9/19/2009, in an attempt to document my lifestyle and placate my fans.
I think it captures everything about who I was in September.
Which is fine.I made it my facebook profile for a while and promptly forgot about it.














Here is the problem:
I took this picture tonight, after looking in the mirror and recognizing a startling similarity.
Only one thing in my life has changed since....four months ago.

Same shirt. Same pants. Same weird shit on the whiteboard. iTunes in one window, writing in the other. Pencil on person. Sword at the ready. Wires tangled. Checks needing to be cashed.

Chiseled jaw. Soft eyes. Impeccable manners and class, as befits a gentleman of standing.

Wait, no, thank god. That second picture is just George Clooney.

I get us confused so often.

Place On Ground. Do Not Hold In Hand Or Throw.

A Dietary Inorganic Macro-Mineral

In the dark in the dark in the dark I remember things better.

So when I'm here, in the light, in front of the computer I have to remember twice I have to remember what I remember in the dark.

I forget incredibly easily.

What does that mean.

It means I live in sections, jumping from environment cue to cue.
I live embedded in location, within music, in the memories of tv shows or films or restaurants or people; very little of me makes the transition unaffected.

I don't.....link memories together, I don't follow a linear path of thought. What happened last month isn't chronologically ordered in front of what happened last year, or what happened a week ago.

I really enjoy rereading these posts later. Especially the ones with music, which I usually haven't heard since the instance when they were initially fresh. I can go back, in order, entry by entry, and get refreshed on what was in my head.

My memories are encoded in media, so my brain is empty and available.
I can make myself remember things at a whim, because I forget everything.
Random-Access Memory.

Why is this important.

Because I'm getting worse.

This will go away in a day or two when school starts, when I move to that next time for four months.

I guess that's all there is to say.

Actually, that's it in a nutshell. That's all I have to say, I haven't done anything in what feels like years. I've been hibernating, I never really wanted a break. I wanted Fall to go on forever. I was fine, functioning.
Of course, I wanted my job to go on forever back at MCC.
And I wanted high school to go on forever, before that.

I guess I want any good thing to go on forever.

I sure do hate change. Even change away from change.

In other news, I've been having trouble sleeping.

This is probably connected to everything else but I'm not in the mood for stopping anything so either I'll get used to it or eat my pillow some time around 2:00.

2:00 is an impressive time again because I have to get up at 8.

Maybe that does it. Maybe the drastic fluctuation between Break and Semester, between Place and Place and Place, between lifestyles, has simply thrown me for a loop.
Perhaps it is that simple.



For now I'm going to lie in the dark and stare vaguely towards the future, ears straining to catch errant and odd sounds from outside, wishing I could fall asleep but literally and utterly unable.

Did I mention that my dreams have started lying to me?

Helium. Latin. The hungry bird orbits the sun.
My friend stabs me with a pin to explain that he's started doing drugs.
My old chemistry classroom has moved four stories up. I can no longer escape out the window.
I see sounds. A car beep is a bright minty green spike in the upper left corner of my brain. A truck doppelering away is a colorless blob slowly getting smaller, off to the right.

These are the ones I remember.

I could sleep with a pen and paper and turn these experiences into memories into encoded words, but I'm content to leave them the way they are.

Experiences.

I'm no photographer. I've never been good at documenting. This only becomes a problem when I want to have something to show for myself, for profile pictures or christmas cards or ego boosting.

Except.
Helios. Greek for sun.

I understand why people get obsessive and intrigued about interpreting their dreams.
It is alluring. It promises hidden and secret knowledge with little effort since it's supposed to be things you already know. Revealing messages from your backbrain.

Alluring and incredibly dangerous.

Don't listen.

Listen to Radiohead.


I guess that is neither obscure or fresh and new. Oh well.

Pie-ate-us

I like the Olympics. Pretty much everyone does.
It's one of the last remaining available instances of (mostly) guilt free patriotism and earnest celebration.

It's also an occasion for some serious pomp. Which is sort of bad if you're like China and people are, you know, starving while you're building a big dumb structure, but it's also really cool. Remember Bjork in Sydney? Wearing a football-stadium sized dress of the world that unraveled? That was sweet as hell.

But that is nothing compared to the 1992 Barcelona Olympics (thatIjustlearnedabout).

Two things about the Olympic torch you should know.
One: It's initially lit in Greece. With the rays of the sun, using a parabolic reflector. That's all kinds of historically rad.

Two: Nothing will ever compete with Antonio Rebollo lighting the flame in '92.


Oh my goddddddddd (he is small because he happens to have polio in his legs by the way)