The music that made life a little easier to comprehend through 2012. I told ya I was gonna put it together. Got my "nyaahhhhhh" face going. But seriously, this is what brought me through. Instead of going by statistic logging I decided to go with the actual tracks I flagged through the year. Sometimes the song you listen to the most is not a real indicator of what hit you the hardest. I really do believe this is an accurate reflection of what punched my heart in the nuts through last year.
Dec RJD2 - Moonlit Skies Go
Nov Skrillex - Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites Go
Oct Lo-Fidelity Allstars - Valentine Boast Go
Sept El-P - Stay Down Go
Aug War - Baby Brother Go
Jul Bjork - Pluto Go
Jun Aphex Twin - Waxen Pith Go
May Tosca - Oscar Go
Apr School of Seven Bells - Loveplay Go
Mar Starkey - Eris Go
Feb Kinny and Horn - Sacred Life Go
Jan Paul Murphy - Soul Call Go
This is the official tax return for 2012. The books have been, after a fashion, balanced. Five months late, but better late than never. I feel pretty good about it. Making next year's list, I can already bet on it, will be Death Grips. I know I'm behind the curve of music, but I don't care all that much. I'm just happy I have time to digest everything that comes across my plate as thoroughly as I care to, and that's what's up.
///Death Grips - "Guillotine" ace high, chuck
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
Showing posts with label aphex twin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aphex twin. Show all posts
5/27/13
5/28/11
The Edge of Amazement
I've been told by some that I am easily amused. Well, I am. I spent twenty minutes today laughing at my laughter. I've been told by others that they wished they could be as easily amused and see the world through similarly eager and easily impressed eyes. I don't know about that. Not to harp about money not being able to buy happiness, but it does. Sort of.
What it buys is a buffer. The edge of the reality of situations. Unpleasant. Where you live? You live in a low rent shit hole in a building occupied by wellfare comped degenerates and people that may or may not be wholly insane and or meth addicts. Sometimes it can be difficult to be happy in a situation like that. What you can buy with money. Fantastic appointments. All the little things that will make your low rent apartment much more enjoyable to live in and obscure the reality of the situation. Or enough drugs to fantastically appoint the hardware in your head and buffer it that way. It's not technically, to the T of the definition, happiness, but it's pretty close. Happiness enabler. I'll take some helium.
Pizza isn't special. In and of itself. It is to me. I can't buy it more than once or twice in a month because I have a lot of other things way more important and necessary and life sustaining to buy and try to save for than expensive cheesy and pepperoni speckled and italian sausaged and dipping butter for the crust ridiculously delicious pizza. So I guess when I hear people say I've got it good because simple things amaze and entertain me because I don't have much in the way of a reality buffer it irritates me. The edge of amazement cuts in two directions and the back stroke is serrated. So, don't forget that. I'll trade you places next time you want to be grounded. I'd like to spend some time in flight
... buffering ...
with giant slices of pizza and area rugs two dozen feet wide and ceiling fans and air conditioning and a shower curtain that reaches all the way across my bath tub. That would be amazing. I will probably cream my pants if the day that all of those things come together actually happens.
///Aphex Twin - "Donkey Rhubarb"
What it buys is a buffer. The edge of the reality of situations. Unpleasant. Where you live? You live in a low rent shit hole in a building occupied by wellfare comped degenerates and people that may or may not be wholly insane and or meth addicts. Sometimes it can be difficult to be happy in a situation like that. What you can buy with money. Fantastic appointments. All the little things that will make your low rent apartment much more enjoyable to live in and obscure the reality of the situation. Or enough drugs to fantastically appoint the hardware in your head and buffer it that way. It's not technically, to the T of the definition, happiness, but it's pretty close. Happiness enabler. I'll take some helium.
Pizza isn't special. In and of itself. It is to me. I can't buy it more than once or twice in a month because I have a lot of other things way more important and necessary and life sustaining to buy and try to save for than expensive cheesy and pepperoni speckled and italian sausaged and dipping butter for the crust ridiculously delicious pizza. So I guess when I hear people say I've got it good because simple things amaze and entertain me because I don't have much in the way of a reality buffer it irritates me. The edge of amazement cuts in two directions and the back stroke is serrated. So, don't forget that. I'll trade you places next time you want to be grounded. I'd like to spend some time in flight
... buffering ...
with giant slices of pizza and area rugs two dozen feet wide and ceiling fans and air conditioning and a shower curtain that reaches all the way across my bath tub. That would be amazing. I will probably cream my pants if the day that all of those things come together actually happens.
///Aphex Twin - "Donkey Rhubarb"
1/11/11
The Locusts Only Took What They Could Carry
I'm here now on the other side of an ongoing experiment that yielded mixed results. I thought for some time about a fun way to combine the word success with the word failure before moving on to more important things. Well, not necessarily important in the sense of urgency as much as important in the sense of size because clearly there is nothing more urgent than finding a way to successfully combine those two words in their most appealing and natural formation and then be the first one to say the new word. The point is this: things have changed.
Life at a higher resolution has had its benefits and its heels. The bridge has dissolved, but has been replaced with something... something else that is difficult to describe. Do you remember televisions with knobs? You might own one now. Well life has become like a television with knobs and there is a hand, no not even a force that centered, but the grooves in the switch that produce the clicking sound and the firm resistance to the turning of the switch are, no not even worn down, they're simply not there. I tune in and every channel, each channel, isn't seated on the face of the tube and its frustrating. But even that isn't really a close enough descriptor. Instead of conversations there are conversations and monitors and levels and time sequencers and gauges and trackers and feedback switches and time code and frame rates and the picture isn't sitting and no ones shutting up and on top of that there are people coming and going at will and moving things and leaving things and at times I can't remember how to walk and I end up spending twenty minutes of a forty minute walk trying to redevelop a comfortable gait and I can't remember how I forgot in the first place.
The ceiling was full of mouths a few days ago. It was disgusting. They weren't people mouths though. Actually they were kind of like meaty valves or something. They kept popping open and closed with these little clicks and it made my skin itch all morning. And then the next night someone ducked their head into my slightly ajar bedroom door and I thought they would leave, but then he saw me and sidled up to my closet against the wall like i wouldn't know he was there. Luckily my phone went off and the light burned him away, but it still left me slightly shaken. There are a pair of women where I work and a man. They're also bad company. The good news is what?
I moved.
Free. Finally free from continuing abuse and shitty fucking family and it is lovely. Pittsburgh is my home now and probably the only place I know of that will have me outright with little or no reservations at all. Well, not entirely true. There is of course the body of people that I want to be connected with who don't feel the same way for whatever reasons, but that's okay because here I actually have friends who actually want to see me along with a context that actually allows that to happen on a regular basis. I have my own place and a bed too. Not much else, but I don't really mind it all that much. I do still need my soul mate computer, but that reunion will have to wait a little while longer. It does mean that my music and drawing will be extremely limited for a while (amongst other things).
I guess I'm still pretty scattered. I saw pictures today of my old friend. I was supposed to send her family a gift, but that was also right around the time I was cold starting my new life so I never had many consecutive hours to dedicate my brain to it. I'm still going to do it. If there's one thing I do every year I would like that to be it. At least until I know they don't really give a shit. Apparently she was here. In this very city only days ago. I wonder sometimes if I'm excluded because I can't be included. It's upsetting. Not in a broken heart kind of way, but in a "what the fuck I thought we were friends" kind of way. Broken heartedness you can get used to, but the former will always cut me fresh and a little deeper with repetition.
I have no idea where to meet people now. I have zero interest in vaginas. Which is also somewhat new. There was some lingering interest even a couple months ago. But I guess I am just gay. Isn't that funny? Well it made me chuckle a little. It's definitely something I never really thought I would say. I still sometimes think back and ask myself "what happened to me?" But maybe it's one of those things like Meyer's Brigs preferences. Just changes over time. Who knows. I'm not really sure where I'm going with that, or most of this.
I suppose I feel like I've escaped from certain destruction in New York and Maryland by cutting off the things the circumstances were latched onto. They've basically fucked me out of 20 years of my life plus however many years it'll take me to reach the earning potential of someone who reached their masters degree and worked in their field for ten years. They've set me back 96k in debt and a five year relationship. I feel like I'm harping, so I'll get to the point.
The point is they smashed and grabbed and smashed and grabbed, but in the end there's only so much they could fit in their clutches and I'm gone away from them for good. Out of reach. Sure my student loans defaulted, but I have nothing that can be taken by the government or a judge. And what I will eventually have will be so small it won't even matter. Sure, they swear they'll cut me off, but I've already been cutoff for the better part of a decade. I didn't escape on my own either. Some friends helped make it happen in a pretty huge way and I owe them each a huge debt of gratitude and dollar bills, but collectively it is quite easy to say they basically saved my life.
I still think about killing myself every other day, but the new potential is so great and unexplored that I can't in good conscience do so and it's been so long since I felt that way. I'm broke, but I'm happy. Life at a higher resolution has its downside and its confusion and its hates and pains and I may need to reaffix filters at some point, but for now I am aware of every passing hour and that awareness is palatable. As a direct result creativity and sanity are suffering, but day to day functionality simply is. I'm proud of myself. A little bit.
I owe you a year end playlist, don't I?
///David Bowie & Philip Glass - "Heroes (Aphex Twin Remix)" We could be. So we were.
Life at a higher resolution has had its benefits and its heels. The bridge has dissolved, but has been replaced with something... something else that is difficult to describe. Do you remember televisions with knobs? You might own one now. Well life has become like a television with knobs and there is a hand, no not even a force that centered, but the grooves in the switch that produce the clicking sound and the firm resistance to the turning of the switch are, no not even worn down, they're simply not there. I tune in and every channel, each channel, isn't seated on the face of the tube and its frustrating. But even that isn't really a close enough descriptor. Instead of conversations there are conversations and monitors and levels and time sequencers and gauges and trackers and feedback switches and time code and frame rates and the picture isn't sitting and no ones shutting up and on top of that there are people coming and going at will and moving things and leaving things and at times I can't remember how to walk and I end up spending twenty minutes of a forty minute walk trying to redevelop a comfortable gait and I can't remember how I forgot in the first place.
The ceiling was full of mouths a few days ago. It was disgusting. They weren't people mouths though. Actually they were kind of like meaty valves or something. They kept popping open and closed with these little clicks and it made my skin itch all morning. And then the next night someone ducked their head into my slightly ajar bedroom door and I thought they would leave, but then he saw me and sidled up to my closet against the wall like i wouldn't know he was there. Luckily my phone went off and the light burned him away, but it still left me slightly shaken. There are a pair of women where I work and a man. They're also bad company. The good news is what?
I moved.
Free. Finally free from continuing abuse and shitty fucking family and it is lovely. Pittsburgh is my home now and probably the only place I know of that will have me outright with little or no reservations at all. Well, not entirely true. There is of course the body of people that I want to be connected with who don't feel the same way for whatever reasons, but that's okay because here I actually have friends who actually want to see me along with a context that actually allows that to happen on a regular basis. I have my own place and a bed too. Not much else, but I don't really mind it all that much. I do still need my soul mate computer, but that reunion will have to wait a little while longer. It does mean that my music and drawing will be extremely limited for a while (amongst other things).
I guess I'm still pretty scattered. I saw pictures today of my old friend. I was supposed to send her family a gift, but that was also right around the time I was cold starting my new life so I never had many consecutive hours to dedicate my brain to it. I'm still going to do it. If there's one thing I do every year I would like that to be it. At least until I know they don't really give a shit. Apparently she was here. In this very city only days ago. I wonder sometimes if I'm excluded because I can't be included. It's upsetting. Not in a broken heart kind of way, but in a "what the fuck I thought we were friends" kind of way. Broken heartedness you can get used to, but the former will always cut me fresh and a little deeper with repetition.
I have no idea where to meet people now. I have zero interest in vaginas. Which is also somewhat new. There was some lingering interest even a couple months ago. But I guess I am just gay. Isn't that funny? Well it made me chuckle a little. It's definitely something I never really thought I would say. I still sometimes think back and ask myself "what happened to me?" But maybe it's one of those things like Meyer's Brigs preferences. Just changes over time. Who knows. I'm not really sure where I'm going with that, or most of this.
I suppose I feel like I've escaped from certain destruction in New York and Maryland by cutting off the things the circumstances were latched onto. They've basically fucked me out of 20 years of my life plus however many years it'll take me to reach the earning potential of someone who reached their masters degree and worked in their field for ten years. They've set me back 96k in debt and a five year relationship. I feel like I'm harping, so I'll get to the point.
The point is they smashed and grabbed and smashed and grabbed, but in the end there's only so much they could fit in their clutches and I'm gone away from them for good. Out of reach. Sure my student loans defaulted, but I have nothing that can be taken by the government or a judge. And what I will eventually have will be so small it won't even matter. Sure, they swear they'll cut me off, but I've already been cutoff for the better part of a decade. I didn't escape on my own either. Some friends helped make it happen in a pretty huge way and I owe them each a huge debt of gratitude and dollar bills, but collectively it is quite easy to say they basically saved my life.
I still think about killing myself every other day, but the new potential is so great and unexplored that I can't in good conscience do so and it's been so long since I felt that way. I'm broke, but I'm happy. Life at a higher resolution has its downside and its confusion and its hates and pains and I may need to reaffix filters at some point, but for now I am aware of every passing hour and that awareness is palatable. As a direct result creativity and sanity are suffering, but day to day functionality simply is. I'm proud of myself. A little bit.
I owe you a year end playlist, don't I?
///David Bowie & Philip Glass - "Heroes (Aphex Twin Remix)" We could be. So we were.
10/24/10
Take it Down a Notch and Classroom Politics
Does the word "it" get capitalized in that title. I'm not totally sure, but I don't think so. So what's new today that was not news yesterday? Not a whole lot. Trying to keep the language clean as a habit. The F word was mingled in there two sentences ago, one sentence before this one, and I had to perform a mental edit. I guess the thing about the mental editing is that while I may be making myself more readable I feel like I am nailing doilies to walls that I have clearly punched holes in to hide the fact that there was an extremely violent outburst and it feels stupid to do. Almost as stupid as dancing with myself in a tutu in the mirror and pretending that I, outside of the mirror, am not wearing one. That was too much.
So the poetry has gotten a little out of hand this week. This is true and entirely my own fault. Or actually, I should say, entirely my chemistry's fault. I had nothing to do with it. I should be so fortunate as to be able to assemble and plan days of literary vomit, and the thing is some of it really is just vomit, but the best thing about throwing up is that the only thing left when your bled out is the thing that matters the most. The thing that giving up in words takes away from your interior and is thus valuable beyond price tags or comparisons or in any other way that value can be assigned except in time and energy lost (the purest value).
I was thinking the other day about models of punishment and something occurred to me (I hate spelling that word). Do you remember in elementary school when the teacher would hold the entire class responsible for some little shits antics? Do you remember how no amount of collective loathing changed his ways and more often than not had the opposite effect on the little shits reasoning? I still do. I still remember not being allowed to line up for recess until everyone shut the hell up and there was always that one bastard who just would not shut his mouth and the teacher would let us go after half of the recess was gone out of sheer pity for what he/she thought the repercussions might be. Sometimes, thinking about that, I wonder if he/she would have ever let us go if she knew that unlike the 40s or 50s or whatever older and more violent and more liberal years he/she grew up in (in terms of acceptable violations of the myth of personal space) the little bastard did not receive any sort of mobocratic beat down. Sometimes the world today feels that way.
Somehow it seems that everyone should be holding someone responsible for their behavior that is damaging everyone's ability to go to recess on time, but no one does. I don't know why that it is. I guess the thing about it might be that "how far is to far" comes into play. If someone bullies you but they never make you cry and then you eventually take the time out of your day to beat the hell out of them and kick their limp body into a puddle of mud is that too far? Your cumulative suffering is still probably greater than their momentary shaming. Isn't that not going far enough. Sorry Brian. I still fucking hate you. If I ever build a time machine rest assured one of my stops will be 6th grade, Maryland, south Bowie, 12:15, my fist, your fucking face. Sorry. I just hate how that whole idea of every member of the group is responsible for every other member of the group has been and continues to be twisted in on itself in perverted ways that make the workplace hell and how it starts at so young an age that it's difficult to imagine any other way for things to be.
I'm taking the poetry down a notch from this week. I basically doubled my output in one night as a result of ... I'm not sure. It happens from time to time. Things just blow out of me like a shotgun to the back at point black range and I actually do apologize. Stability is the cornerstone of something. Just nothing I make. Here's a one liner for your next cocktail party: stability needs capitalism like capitalism needs classim. Haw. Get it? Do you see what I did there? Okay, bye :)
///Aphex Twin - "Bucephalus Bouncing Ball" I am playful tonight in ways I wish I could feel every single night of my life and share with the universe and it's bastard long faced serious denizens who think so much of .... wow that turned really angry. I am playful tonight. Stop. Love you, Aphex.
p.s. I'll draw you a picture next time.
So the poetry has gotten a little out of hand this week. This is true and entirely my own fault. Or actually, I should say, entirely my chemistry's fault. I had nothing to do with it. I should be so fortunate as to be able to assemble and plan days of literary vomit, and the thing is some of it really is just vomit, but the best thing about throwing up is that the only thing left when your bled out is the thing that matters the most. The thing that giving up in words takes away from your interior and is thus valuable beyond price tags or comparisons or in any other way that value can be assigned except in time and energy lost (the purest value).
I was thinking the other day about models of punishment and something occurred to me (I hate spelling that word). Do you remember in elementary school when the teacher would hold the entire class responsible for some little shits antics? Do you remember how no amount of collective loathing changed his ways and more often than not had the opposite effect on the little shits reasoning? I still do. I still remember not being allowed to line up for recess until everyone shut the hell up and there was always that one bastard who just would not shut his mouth and the teacher would let us go after half of the recess was gone out of sheer pity for what he/she thought the repercussions might be. Sometimes, thinking about that, I wonder if he/she would have ever let us go if she knew that unlike the 40s or 50s or whatever older and more violent and more liberal years he/she grew up in (in terms of acceptable violations of the myth of personal space) the little bastard did not receive any sort of mobocratic beat down. Sometimes the world today feels that way.
Somehow it seems that everyone should be holding someone responsible for their behavior that is damaging everyone's ability to go to recess on time, but no one does. I don't know why that it is. I guess the thing about it might be that "how far is to far" comes into play. If someone bullies you but they never make you cry and then you eventually take the time out of your day to beat the hell out of them and kick their limp body into a puddle of mud is that too far? Your cumulative suffering is still probably greater than their momentary shaming. Isn't that not going far enough. Sorry Brian. I still fucking hate you. If I ever build a time machine rest assured one of my stops will be 6th grade, Maryland, south Bowie, 12:15, my fist, your fucking face. Sorry. I just hate how that whole idea of every member of the group is responsible for every other member of the group has been and continues to be twisted in on itself in perverted ways that make the workplace hell and how it starts at so young an age that it's difficult to imagine any other way for things to be.
I'm taking the poetry down a notch from this week. I basically doubled my output in one night as a result of ... I'm not sure. It happens from time to time. Things just blow out of me like a shotgun to the back at point black range and I actually do apologize. Stability is the cornerstone of something. Just nothing I make. Here's a one liner for your next cocktail party: stability needs capitalism like capitalism needs classim. Haw. Get it? Do you see what I did there? Okay, bye :)
///Aphex Twin - "Bucephalus Bouncing Ball" I am playful tonight in ways I wish I could feel every single night of my life and share with the universe and it's bastard long faced serious denizens who think so much of .... wow that turned really angry. I am playful tonight. Stop. Love you, Aphex.
p.s. I'll draw you a picture next time.
5/11/10
artistic identity and laughter
so i gots to thinking the other day... this whole process of gussying up the page to make you read more would be a lot easier if i knew what my artistic identity was. and then i thought: how many artists actually know what their artistic identity is? i mean the simple ones do. im sure jessica simpson never wakes up in the morning and thinks "i wonder if people think im a dumb blonde" or whatever the hell color her hair is. i honestly cant remember and im glad i cant. its one of those things you unconsciously attempt to forget from the moment you see it and now i finally have and it should stay that way. so anyway... yeah... does banksy ever wake up and say to himself "am i an edgy street artist?" or does a blogger wake up and say "i wonder if people know that..." no dumb example. other example: basically what im saying is (scratch other example) does a person who fills role X know how it is that they are expressing role X.
if i coat the page in scrawl will people connect that to my personality and my work. i guess thats what i want on my home page. i want to connect my personality with my work. sure it doesnt encapsulate the whole of my personality and probably encapsulates some things unintentionally that i probably would not count as being a part of me for any reason. but... nevertheless the fact remains that those two phrases should never for any syntactic reason follow each other. the fact remains that my work will largely be my interpretation of things and therefore encase my mouth feel. maybe thats why i write. to preserve my mouth feel. maybe. i dunno.
what i do know or have become more aware of is that the absence of sadness in my life and the presence of disappointment borne more from drawing rage from an empty tank than anything else is an indication of an imbalance. i mean if you dont feel sad then you must not be feeling or able to interpret the sensation that is supposed to counter it. children learn to laugh and have a good time and cut loose but im sure if you really wanted to you could probably teach a child to unlearn those things.
if you never really enjoy yourself you never really can be sad. if sadness is part of your life then maybe as a defense mechanism you stop allowing yourself to enjoy things. you start with little things and work your way up to big things until you hit a point where nothing short of someone dieing, like actually dieing will make you sad, but by the same token nothing short of fireworks, while having sex, while pounding beers, while buzzing off of adrenalin from a street fight you won by almost killing someone will really make you feel joy.
things will blip by and smiles will be appropriate but the real feeling wont register. so then as an adult can you relearn the joy response? maybe not. maybe what you learn as an adult and being conscious of societal expectations is the appropriate response. you dont laugh at anything or you laugh at everything that could possibly be considered funny by someone. you laugh so much that you stop enjoying laughing because you get headaches from the amount of focus, the amount of blood clotting your brain, from trying to figure out if anyone will think something is funny. does that happen?
maybe. probably. definitely makes me want to go to jstor and see if there are papers on just this sort of thing.
remember yesterday when i said i'd put links instead of just my own hijinx. thats probably spelled wrong. well here's a link: JSTOR in case you didnt know what jstor is. its pretty great. i used it at least once a month during classes when i was an undergrad. usually many dozens of times a month.
///aphex twin - "d-scape" lets see... this song is from his selected ambient works... cant remember if its the first or second volume, but its a good song to wonder to. its a song you can dive into and it keeps getting deeper not because it is any deeper than say a 20 second segment looped over and over, but it keeps getting deeper like a treadmill gets longer the more time you spend on it. not always a bad thing. some of us need treadmills. just not always the kind you beat your feet on.
if i coat the page in scrawl will people connect that to my personality and my work. i guess thats what i want on my home page. i want to connect my personality with my work. sure it doesnt encapsulate the whole of my personality and probably encapsulates some things unintentionally that i probably would not count as being a part of me for any reason. but... nevertheless the fact remains that those two phrases should never for any syntactic reason follow each other. the fact remains that my work will largely be my interpretation of things and therefore encase my mouth feel. maybe thats why i write. to preserve my mouth feel. maybe. i dunno.
what i do know or have become more aware of is that the absence of sadness in my life and the presence of disappointment borne more from drawing rage from an empty tank than anything else is an indication of an imbalance. i mean if you dont feel sad then you must not be feeling or able to interpret the sensation that is supposed to counter it. children learn to laugh and have a good time and cut loose but im sure if you really wanted to you could probably teach a child to unlearn those things.
if you never really enjoy yourself you never really can be sad. if sadness is part of your life then maybe as a defense mechanism you stop allowing yourself to enjoy things. you start with little things and work your way up to big things until you hit a point where nothing short of someone dieing, like actually dieing will make you sad, but by the same token nothing short of fireworks, while having sex, while pounding beers, while buzzing off of adrenalin from a street fight you won by almost killing someone will really make you feel joy.
things will blip by and smiles will be appropriate but the real feeling wont register. so then as an adult can you relearn the joy response? maybe not. maybe what you learn as an adult and being conscious of societal expectations is the appropriate response. you dont laugh at anything or you laugh at everything that could possibly be considered funny by someone. you laugh so much that you stop enjoying laughing because you get headaches from the amount of focus, the amount of blood clotting your brain, from trying to figure out if anyone will think something is funny. does that happen?
maybe. probably. definitely makes me want to go to jstor and see if there are papers on just this sort of thing.
remember yesterday when i said i'd put links instead of just my own hijinx. thats probably spelled wrong. well here's a link: JSTOR in case you didnt know what jstor is. its pretty great. i used it at least once a month during classes when i was an undergrad. usually many dozens of times a month.
///aphex twin - "d-scape" lets see... this song is from his selected ambient works... cant remember if its the first or second volume, but its a good song to wonder to. its a song you can dive into and it keeps getting deeper not because it is any deeper than say a 20 second segment looped over and over, but it keeps getting deeper like a treadmill gets longer the more time you spend on it. not always a bad thing. some of us need treadmills. just not always the kind you beat your feet on.
4/3/10
useful information and the other chris davis
so we all like useful information. are we in agreement? sure we are. so maybe i should make an effort to post useful information. maybe. maybe. thinking about it. considering it. useful information to me? or you? to us? to us!
no i dont think so. well maybe. its tempting. i could put ads on it and stuff to links of things that are useful. but when you think about it people are simply obsessed with useful things. like really super useful ultra niche things. pointlessly useful things, like a shoe horn on a stick. or... hmmm.
heres some useful information... or not.... its hard to think. my wonderful neighbors are having some sort of reunion or gathering and they parked their buicks and dodge chargers, 20 inch crome rims and all, in everyone elses driveways and theyre smoking black and milds and blasting gospel music and generally driving me insane. i hate south bowie. its times like these i wish i was 10 people.
but if you had the power to divide yourself into 10 people and then sent them off to do 10 different things then you could have the potential to feel an infinite mix of emotions at any given moment. if one person could feel mixed emotions about anything it must then be like feeling nothing to feel an infinite mix of emotions. like mixing a bunch of colors of paint together ... eventually it always makes black. so i guess being the core of a collective mind is like being the most level headed person ever... but then if things settle down it would become like one or several of many mental disorders. speculation is sometimes not useful. maybe this is one of those times.
useful information is good. entertainment is better? maybe. a blog full of speculation is better for me. and useful. useful information is good for you, but not here. well maybe once in a while. maybe not. im on the fence.
suuuuck it belgium. maybe. yeah. suck it belgium.
in other news... i found another christopher davis with a blog about optimism and self starting and other strange things. in short its another business man trying to spread his businessmanly old guy wisdom by way of shitty plugs to things he didnt create. i guess thats why i hate the idea of useful information. im just not going to fill my pages with "useful information" you would find elsewhere anyway. im not going to be a middle man for your bullshit. i have my own bullshit to peddle thank you very much. and you can suuuuck it too chris davis on other blog. suuuck a fat ... hmmm whats something original that hasnt been said before.... suuuuck a fat stick of old spice, prick!!! then go blog about how smelling good makes for better business deals or something. i mean come the fuck on.... slivers of goodness? thats what you call it? slivers of razors blades in my wrists. rage. but not enough rage to actually... well maybe. we'll just have to wait and see.
///aphex twin - "next heap with" get some of that peace in your brain before you do something crazy like sick german shepards on people while beating them with batons and hoses cuz it doesnt matter how many of you there are god damn it, this is a quiet nieghborhood and you cant just park where ever the hell you want to in the middle of the day when people are coming and going from their personal business that does not involve asking you to move your god damn car while you stand in a row with your arms crossed trying to intimidate strangers. kthnx.
no i dont think so. well maybe. its tempting. i could put ads on it and stuff to links of things that are useful. but when you think about it people are simply obsessed with useful things. like really super useful ultra niche things. pointlessly useful things, like a shoe horn on a stick. or... hmmm.
heres some useful information... or not.... its hard to think. my wonderful neighbors are having some sort of reunion or gathering and they parked their buicks and dodge chargers, 20 inch crome rims and all, in everyone elses driveways and theyre smoking black and milds and blasting gospel music and generally driving me insane. i hate south bowie. its times like these i wish i was 10 people.
but if you had the power to divide yourself into 10 people and then sent them off to do 10 different things then you could have the potential to feel an infinite mix of emotions at any given moment. if one person could feel mixed emotions about anything it must then be like feeling nothing to feel an infinite mix of emotions. like mixing a bunch of colors of paint together ... eventually it always makes black. so i guess being the core of a collective mind is like being the most level headed person ever... but then if things settle down it would become like one or several of many mental disorders. speculation is sometimes not useful. maybe this is one of those times.
useful information is good. entertainment is better? maybe. a blog full of speculation is better for me. and useful. useful information is good for you, but not here. well maybe once in a while. maybe not. im on the fence.
suuuuck it belgium. maybe. yeah. suck it belgium.
in other news... i found another christopher davis with a blog about optimism and self starting and other strange things. in short its another business man trying to spread his businessmanly old guy wisdom by way of shitty plugs to things he didnt create. i guess thats why i hate the idea of useful information. im just not going to fill my pages with "useful information" you would find elsewhere anyway. im not going to be a middle man for your bullshit. i have my own bullshit to peddle thank you very much. and you can suuuuck it too chris davis on other blog. suuuck a fat ... hmmm whats something original that hasnt been said before.... suuuuck a fat stick of old spice, prick!!! then go blog about how smelling good makes for better business deals or something. i mean come the fuck on.... slivers of goodness? thats what you call it? slivers of razors blades in my wrists. rage. but not enough rage to actually... well maybe. we'll just have to wait and see.
///aphex twin - "next heap with" get some of that peace in your brain before you do something crazy like sick german shepards on people while beating them with batons and hoses cuz it doesnt matter how many of you there are god damn it, this is a quiet nieghborhood and you cant just park where ever the hell you want to in the middle of the day when people are coming and going from their personal business that does not involve asking you to move your god damn car while you stand in a row with your arms crossed trying to intimidate strangers. kthnx.
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