"Fat people LOVE free food."
- Brett Cosar
5.26.2005
OK, now about me.
The old saying, "don't read your own press" was something I took to heart a million years ago and ignored when necessary.
But, I generally make things and store them: art, music, photos, etc.
Same goes for TTBOTT. I made it. I distributed it (to all 10 people) and I left it alone. Now, this isn't an aging like fine wine, but I hadn't listened to it for a while.
Yesterday, I took the metro/bus home -- headphone heaven.
So I reluctantly tried it out, fully realizing that I was going to seriously disappoint myself and reveal the truth: that as an artist I really do suck!
Well [cue the fanfare], TTBOTT is some serious shit. Contrary to jigsaw puzzle pieces falling out of my ass, I actually understand it a great deal and, get this, really kind of like it. Appreciate it.
Well, look at me!
The old saying, "don't read your own press" was something I took to heart a million years ago and ignored when necessary.
But, I generally make things and store them: art, music, photos, etc.
Same goes for TTBOTT. I made it. I distributed it (to all 10 people) and I left it alone. Now, this isn't an aging like fine wine, but I hadn't listened to it for a while.
Yesterday, I took the metro/bus home -- headphone heaven.
So I reluctantly tried it out, fully realizing that I was going to seriously disappoint myself and reveal the truth: that as an artist I really do suck!
Well [cue the fanfare], TTBOTT is some serious shit. Contrary to jigsaw puzzle pieces falling out of my ass, I actually understand it a great deal and, get this, really kind of like it. Appreciate it.
Well, look at me!
5.23.2005
Has it really been over a month? Oh, I still love you. Really I do.
It's nothing personal. It's me not you. Uh, I was on vacation [http://www.a-pos-tro-phe.com/v1n3/vacation1.html]. Seriously. I flew in an aero plane.
I had this dream once, that I met Jesus, and borrowed a ten-spot and a joint from him. He was really cool about shit. I couldn't resist throwing around the exclamation, "Jesus Christ." Funnily, he'd reply, "What?!" I asked him if god really existed, although he wouldn't answer directly, he kept referring to his dad in seemingly big ways.
What has changed? Well, what hasn't? Democrats are still weak. Iraq is still a mess. And, California is next to the ocean. The Pacific Ocean. It's wet.
Owen, Pryor, and Brown are still a great and grave danger to the republic. Enlightenment is still out of reach for america [lower case "a" intentional].
Tomorrow, I have my annual performance review – at work -- and I really have no feelings about it. I find that surprising somehow. Work. Working. Career. A Norman Rockwell collectible plate purchased from Parade magazine insert.
Blindsided. Crushed. Wrong.
It's nothing personal. It's me not you. Uh, I was on vacation [http://www.a-pos-tro-phe.com/v1n3/vacation1.html]. Seriously. I flew in an aero plane.
I had this dream once, that I met Jesus, and borrowed a ten-spot and a joint from him. He was really cool about shit. I couldn't resist throwing around the exclamation, "Jesus Christ." Funnily, he'd reply, "What?!" I asked him if god really existed, although he wouldn't answer directly, he kept referring to his dad in seemingly big ways.
What has changed? Well, what hasn't? Democrats are still weak. Iraq is still a mess. And, California is next to the ocean. The Pacific Ocean. It's wet.
Owen, Pryor, and Brown are still a great and grave danger to the republic. Enlightenment is still out of reach for america [lower case "a" intentional].
Tomorrow, I have my annual performance review – at work -- and I really have no feelings about it. I find that surprising somehow. Work. Working. Career. A Norman Rockwell collectible plate purchased from Parade magazine insert.
Blindsided. Crushed. Wrong.
4.19.2005
In Dreams
There are perfectly good dreams. Bad ones too. There are great dreams and nightmares. Night terrors are extremely awful. Most dreams are not memorable in the least.
But, every once in a great while, conditions are right for astounding dreams. Dreams so amazingly wonderful, so perfect that waking is akin to dying. The story arcs so perfect, one couldn't even imagine the genius mind or tender thoughtfulness of the human who could conceive of such wonder (then somehow you realize it’s your mind).
The sights. The sounds. The smells. The lighting. Nuances and even the most minute details of things small and very far in the background are stunning. Ahh, but…
But, above all, the emotions are astonishing! Falling in love, fright or worry is extra-life-like – extraordinary! The feelings of love where the overarching sense of desire and connection; the well being and playful oneness are so complete so intertwined that there are never enough tears or welling.
Loss that feels so absolutely devastating in its desperate separation and finality.
Last night I had one of those dreams. Damn.
There are perfectly good dreams. Bad ones too. There are great dreams and nightmares. Night terrors are extremely awful. Most dreams are not memorable in the least.
But, every once in a great while, conditions are right for astounding dreams. Dreams so amazingly wonderful, so perfect that waking is akin to dying. The story arcs so perfect, one couldn't even imagine the genius mind or tender thoughtfulness of the human who could conceive of such wonder (then somehow you realize it’s your mind).
The sights. The sounds. The smells. The lighting. Nuances and even the most minute details of things small and very far in the background are stunning. Ahh, but…
But, above all, the emotions are astonishing! Falling in love, fright or worry is extra-life-like – extraordinary! The feelings of love where the overarching sense of desire and connection; the well being and playful oneness are so complete so intertwined that there are never enough tears or welling.
Loss that feels so absolutely devastating in its desperate separation and finality.
Last night I had one of those dreams. Damn.
4.14.2005
I really want to embrace the Washington Nationals. I've followed them through spring training and ten games into the season. Sure, I hate the damn, that everyone is so nutty about them for some faddish reason or another. Sure, my team is LA. The motherfucking Dodgers, right? But, I haven't lived in L.A. for 20 years. I've lived equal my life away from L.A. So, I can pick another team. And, right here in my lap falls a team. A National League baseball team. I had to outlay nothing. No cash, no blood, no sweat.
They look like a baseball team. They even have a couple of known quantity ballplayers. The Nationals!
But, as I sit here watching the Washington Nationals and the Arizona Diamondbacks...I find my attention waning. Diamondbacks v. Nationals. Seriously. I mean, they look like a baseball team. They're playing on a diamond of major league porportions and quality.
If I have to hear "baseball is back" or see one more mope in a "W" hat...
I dunno about this...Go Dodgers?
They look like a baseball team. They even have a couple of known quantity ballplayers. The Nationals!
But, as I sit here watching the Washington Nationals and the Arizona Diamondbacks...I find my attention waning. Diamondbacks v. Nationals. Seriously. I mean, they look like a baseball team. They're playing on a diamond of major league porportions and quality.
If I have to hear "baseball is back" or see one more mope in a "W" hat...
I dunno about this...Go Dodgers?
4.06.2005
Babadoo: Hey Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo?
Babadoo: I'm tryin' to figures something out.
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo? Jello?
Babadoo: No, not Jello, but you got a point...flavored cow bones, chick rasslin' in it and shit. Fucking weird. But no, it's the PEDs I'm confused about Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: You mean PEZ Babadoo. Remember that dispenser I had, looked like Nicole Simpson? Not right, huh?
Babadoo: No, PEDs, Performance-Enhancing Drugs Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: What's so confusing 'bout that? It's cheating pure and simple. 'Roids is bad, that's that. Even got a big ass Congressional Probe to put a stop to it. Besides, I hear they shrink your nads. Makes ballplayers RAGE and fight the audience and stuff.
Babadoo: Can't be Whabadoo - Arnold ran for Governor so they can't be all that small. Did you actually say "nads" Whabadoo? "Nads?" What, you gonna use "wuss" next?
Whabadoo: Yeah, that took big nads. You got a point there...wuss!
Babadoo: Besides Whabadoo, I'm not even talking about the 'roids. I'm talking bout Marijuana. Name one great artist, architect, poet, writer or musician who's performance wasn't enhanced by that drug? Shit, we wouldn't even HAVE jazz or tripgrass without it. Were they cheaters Whabadoo? And maybe there should be an asterisk by Van Gogh's name for using opium. That sure enhanced his (or her) performance as a painter. And, what about the old school ballers like Wilt and Bill Walton. John Wooden let Bill Walton smoke up because he knew it let him play better, more fluid.
Whabadoo: An asterisk by his name? Where? What are you going on about Babadoo? Maybe they should call themselves, Phish* or Led Zeppelin* or maybe even William Shakespeare*? How 'bout this: Jesus*! Click this link, Bab.
Babadoo: Or what about the millions of people who take Prozacs who perform better at work and in their relationships because they don't want to die no more? Is that cheatin' Whabadoo? Jimmy didn't beat his wife, but we are forced to put an asterisk by his behavioral performance today.
Whabadoo: You get the point. And then there's Viager - it enhances ole daddy's "performance" from what I can hear - talk about "cheating on your wife." And I take Ginko Biloba and some multi-vitimins and a tramadol or two. And the Egyptians ate lotus flowers, probably did something for them, those fucking cheaters! Let's get a Congressional Probe to see if the Egyptians cheated when they built the pyramids! Should I get a discount because the guys that installed my carpet were a bit high? What about Otto?
Babadoo: Yeah, now you see why I'm confused Whabadoo. Nicole Simpson and pez? That ain't right.
Whabadoo: Maybe...the asterisk can become the new universal symbol for PEDs. That way, we bring all the cheaters out into the open. How 'bout that, Babadoo*?
Whabadoo*: Well? How 'bout that, Babadoo*?
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo?
Babadoo: I'm tryin' to figures something out.
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo? Jello?
Babadoo: No, not Jello, but you got a point...flavored cow bones, chick rasslin' in it and shit. Fucking weird. But no, it's the PEDs I'm confused about Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: You mean PEZ Babadoo. Remember that dispenser I had, looked like Nicole Simpson? Not right, huh?
Babadoo: No, PEDs, Performance-Enhancing Drugs Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: What's so confusing 'bout that? It's cheating pure and simple. 'Roids is bad, that's that. Even got a big ass Congressional Probe to put a stop to it. Besides, I hear they shrink your nads. Makes ballplayers RAGE and fight the audience and stuff.
Babadoo: Can't be Whabadoo - Arnold ran for Governor so they can't be all that small. Did you actually say "nads" Whabadoo? "Nads?" What, you gonna use "wuss" next?
Whabadoo: Yeah, that took big nads. You got a point there...wuss!
Babadoo: Besides Whabadoo, I'm not even talking about the 'roids. I'm talking bout Marijuana. Name one great artist, architect, poet, writer or musician who's performance wasn't enhanced by that drug? Shit, we wouldn't even HAVE jazz or tripgrass without it. Were they cheaters Whabadoo? And maybe there should be an asterisk by Van Gogh's name for using opium. That sure enhanced his (or her) performance as a painter. And, what about the old school ballers like Wilt and Bill Walton. John Wooden let Bill Walton smoke up because he knew it let him play better, more fluid.
Whabadoo: An asterisk by his name? Where? What are you going on about Babadoo? Maybe they should call themselves, Phish* or Led Zeppelin* or maybe even William Shakespeare*? How 'bout this: Jesus*! Click this link, Bab.
Babadoo: Or what about the millions of people who take Prozacs who perform better at work and in their relationships because they don't want to die no more? Is that cheatin' Whabadoo? Jimmy didn't beat his wife, but we are forced to put an asterisk by his behavioral performance today.
Whabadoo: You get the point. And then there's Viager - it enhances ole daddy's "performance" from what I can hear - talk about "cheating on your wife." And I take Ginko Biloba and some multi-vitimins and a tramadol or two. And the Egyptians ate lotus flowers, probably did something for them, those fucking cheaters! Let's get a Congressional Probe to see if the Egyptians cheated when they built the pyramids! Should I get a discount because the guys that installed my carpet were a bit high? What about Otto?
Babadoo: Yeah, now you see why I'm confused Whabadoo. Nicole Simpson and pez? That ain't right.
Whabadoo: Maybe...the asterisk can become the new universal symbol for PEDs. That way, we bring all the cheaters out into the open. How 'bout that, Babadoo*?
Whabadoo*: Well? How 'bout that, Babadoo*?
4.04.2005
Whabadoo: JEHOVAH!!! YOU IDIOTIC WHORE!!! YOU MAGGOT!!! YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND THIS, DOWN HERE!!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING, YOU TYRANT!!! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!!!! BUT I DON'T CARE, BECAUSE I HATE YOU!!!!!
Babadoo: Whabadoo! Wake up, man! Whabadoo!!
Whabadoo: Huh, wha?!
Babadoo: Whabadoo, you were screaming in your sleep. Something about Jehovah and maggots and tyrants. What were you dreaming about?
Whabadoo: Oh, I was just dreaming that I was reading the newspaper.
Babadoo: Whoa, that's a whopper!
Babadoo: Whabadoo! Wake up, man! Whabadoo!!
Whabadoo: Huh, wha?!
Babadoo: Whabadoo, you were screaming in your sleep. Something about Jehovah and maggots and tyrants. What were you dreaming about?
Whabadoo: Oh, I was just dreaming that I was reading the newspaper.
Babadoo: Whoa, that's a whopper!
3.31.2005
Ty: Hey, guys?
Whabadoo: What you want, Mister Ty?
Babadoo: Yeah?
Ty: I brought a friend, he's religious, so be nice, okay?
Babadoo: Okay, who is this culty fuck?
Whabadoo: Babadoo, cut that shit out, dude. Chill. He looks cool...for a man of the cloth or whatever.
Ty: Guys, this is the Rev. DJ Richie-Scratchy, you can call him Rich.
Babadoo: Hello, Mister Reech.
Whabadoo: Where's your collar?
DJ Richie-Scratchy: Ha-ha guys. I don't wear a collar. I'm a virtual minister; an Internet preacher. Praise God to all!
Ty: Okay, Rich. Tell the fellas what you were telling me.
DJ Richie-Scratchy: Guys, I'm hear to tell you that God is mad. Angry. Pissed the hell off. The end is near! Praise Allah!
Whabadoo: Really!?
Babadoo: What we do? How do you know?
DJ Richie-Scratchy: In addition to feeding tubes for the Pope and no feeding tubes for the Terri, God gave us earthquakes in the same brown part of the world not too far from Christmas and Easter. I bet he meant them to be on Christmas and Easter but when you have to throw them from so far away (the other side of the universe) you can be off by a couple of days. Praise Buddha.
Plus, Jerry Falwell is bleeding out the asshole and Johnnie Cochran got a wicked brain tumor - the fun inoperable kind. "If the tumor's too big; nigga, get a shovel and start to dig!"
Ty: Dude, that was cold! The brotha's just doing his ca-zash bizz-niz. You don't have to hate...
DJ Richie-Scratchy: "...if homie's got a lump in the head; get yo po ass outta bed..."
Whabadoo: What you want, Mister Ty?
Babadoo: Yeah?
Ty: I brought a friend, he's religious, so be nice, okay?
Babadoo: Okay, who is this culty fuck?
Whabadoo: Babadoo, cut that shit out, dude. Chill. He looks cool...for a man of the cloth or whatever.
Ty: Guys, this is the Rev. DJ Richie-Scratchy, you can call him Rich.
Babadoo: Hello, Mister Reech.
Whabadoo: Where's your collar?
DJ Richie-Scratchy: Ha-ha guys. I don't wear a collar. I'm a virtual minister; an Internet preacher. Praise God to all!
Ty: Okay, Rich. Tell the fellas what you were telling me.
DJ Richie-Scratchy: Guys, I'm hear to tell you that God is mad. Angry. Pissed the hell off. The end is near! Praise Allah!
Whabadoo: Really!?
Babadoo: What we do? How do you know?
DJ Richie-Scratchy: In addition to feeding tubes for the Pope and no feeding tubes for the Terri, God gave us earthquakes in the same brown part of the world not too far from Christmas and Easter. I bet he meant them to be on Christmas and Easter but when you have to throw them from so far away (the other side of the universe) you can be off by a couple of days. Praise Buddha.
Plus, Jerry Falwell is bleeding out the asshole and Johnnie Cochran got a wicked brain tumor - the fun inoperable kind. "If the tumor's too big; nigga, get a shovel and start to dig!"
Ty: Dude, that was cold! The brotha's just doing his ca-zash bizz-niz. You don't have to hate...
DJ Richie-Scratchy: "...if homie's got a lump in the head; get yo po ass outta bed..."
3.30.2005
Babadoo: Whabad-- What the fuck is that?!
Whabadoo: Well, I got to thinking. Terri had one. John Paul has one. I got me a feeding tube! I hear they'll be all the rage soon. I read that Jennifer Anniston is getting one in her stomach and that Beck has had one out his nose since last November. He even had Thanksgiving dinner through his. So, when you told me about getting all sick and shit, I got to thinking...
Babadoo: You cannot be serious. A feeding tube? Dude, that is so wrong.
Whabadoo: What's so wrong? A friend of mine said they saw Karl Rove with one at a party in Virginia. He was downing Michelob like a motherfucker...
Babadoo: I'm going back to sleep; this is one fucked dream--
Whabadoo: ...and college kids are using theirs to in highly sexual ways.
Whabadoo: Well, I got to thinking. Terri had one. John Paul has one. I got me a feeding tube! I hear they'll be all the rage soon. I read that Jennifer Anniston is getting one in her stomach and that Beck has had one out his nose since last November. He even had Thanksgiving dinner through his. So, when you told me about getting all sick and shit, I got to thinking...
Babadoo: You cannot be serious. A feeding tube? Dude, that is so wrong.
Whabadoo: What's so wrong? A friend of mine said they saw Karl Rove with one at a party in Virginia. He was downing Michelob like a motherfucker...
Babadoo: I'm going back to sleep; this is one fucked dream--
Whabadoo: ...and college kids are using theirs to in highly sexual ways.
Whabadoo: Babadoo?! Where you been, man?
Babadoo: I have been very, very ill. I was at death's door. I was one foot in, man.
Whabadoo: Whoa...why didn't you tell me? I could have brought you some soup or something.
Babadoo: Soup! I couldn't eat no fucking soup. I was really goddamn sick, man. I had tubes and shit in my nose. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. Nothing. They said my heart stopped a time or two.
Whabadoo: Shit man, what happened?
Babadoo: Those Republicans, man... The doctor says I had reached, whathesay? "A threshold." My system couldn't take it anymore. I was so full of their nasty, vile polluted shit, I overloaded. I thought I had taken as much as possible, then Bolton, then Wolfowitz, then Hughes, then steroids, then Schiavo. That shit put me over.
Whabadoo: I hear Jerry Fallwell is sick too. Maybe he die? Pope too?
Babadoo: I'm feeling a little better.
Babadoo: I have been very, very ill. I was at death's door. I was one foot in, man.
Whabadoo: Whoa...why didn't you tell me? I could have brought you some soup or something.
Babadoo: Soup! I couldn't eat no fucking soup. I was really goddamn sick, man. I had tubes and shit in my nose. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. Nothing. They said my heart stopped a time or two.
Whabadoo: Shit man, what happened?
Babadoo: Those Republicans, man... The doctor says I had reached, whathesay? "A threshold." My system couldn't take it anymore. I was so full of their nasty, vile polluted shit, I overloaded. I thought I had taken as much as possible, then Bolton, then Wolfowitz, then Hughes, then steroids, then Schiavo. That shit put me over.
Whabadoo: I hear Jerry Fallwell is sick too. Maybe he die? Pope too?
Babadoo: I'm feeling a little better.
3.17.2005
Babadoo: Yo, Whabadoo. I have a question for you.
Whabadoo: I'm not here to talk about the past; I'm here to be positive about the future.
Babadoo: B-b-but, Whabadoo, you haven't even heard my questio--
Whabadoo: I'm not here to talk about the past; I'm here to be positive about the future.
Babadoo: Dude, what the fuck? Can I even ask the question?
Whabadoo:
Babadoo: Shithead.
Whabadoo: I am not here to talk about the past; I only want to be positive about the future.
Whabadoo: I'm not here to talk about the past; I'm here to be positive about the future.
Babadoo: B-b-but, Whabadoo, you haven't even heard my questio--
Whabadoo: I'm not here to talk about the past; I'm here to be positive about the future.
Babadoo: Dude, what the fuck? Can I even ask the question?
Whabadoo:
Babadoo: Shithead.
Whabadoo: I am not here to talk about the past; I only want to be positive about the future.
Whabadoo: LOOK AT ME BABADOO, FUCKING LOOK AT HOW RIPPED I AM!
Babadoo: You roidin' again, Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EYES AND FUCKING LOOK AT MY PECS! GODDAMN, MY ABS ARE LIKE RIVERSTONES!
Babadoo: Oh, please don't send me into the cornfield again.
Whabadoo: WHAT?! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! DO NOT EVER DISS ME AGAIN, YOU PUTRID LITTLE FAGGOT!
Babadoo: That was good. Next time when you do the "putrid little faggot" part, bug your eyes out a little more. The neck vein thing was perfect.
Babadoo: You roidin' again, Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EYES AND FUCKING LOOK AT MY PECS! GODDAMN, MY ABS ARE LIKE RIVERSTONES!
Babadoo: Oh, please don't send me into the cornfield again.
Whabadoo: WHAT?! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! DO NOT EVER DISS ME AGAIN, YOU PUTRID LITTLE FAGGOT!
Babadoo: That was good. Next time when you do the "putrid little faggot" part, bug your eyes out a little more. The neck vein thing was perfect.
3.16.2005
Babadoo: Hey, Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: Huh?
Babadoo: What's the matter with President Bush?
Whabadoo: Why, what do you mean, Babadoo?
Babadoo: The global development community has to wonder exactly what it says about American plans for the World Bank that Bush has named a leading war planner to head the world's leading development agency.
Whabadoo: Huh? Why did Mario quit American Idol. I so sad now.
Whabadoo: Huh?
Babadoo: What's the matter with President Bush?
Whabadoo: Why, what do you mean, Babadoo?
Babadoo: The global development community has to wonder exactly what it says about American plans for the World Bank that Bush has named a leading war planner to head the world's leading development agency.
Whabadoo: Huh? Why did Mario quit American Idol. I so sad now.
Babadoo: The Internet wrote me again.
Whabadoo: What the Internet tell you this time?
Babadoo: The Internet say the doctor approve my prescription.
Whabadoo: Prescription? What's the matter this time?
Babadoo: I don't know, but the Internet told me it was time to refill.
Whabadoo: So you did?
Babadoo: Yea.
Whabadoo: Oh, Babdoo!!
Whabadoo: What the Internet tell you this time?
Babadoo: The Internet say the doctor approve my prescription.
Whabadoo: Prescription? What's the matter this time?
Babadoo: I don't know, but the Internet told me it was time to refill.
Whabadoo: So you did?
Babadoo: Yea.
Whabadoo: Oh, Babdoo!!
Whabadoo: Hey Babadoo, you wanna somke some of this?
Babadoo: OK.
[ten minutes later]
Whabadoo: Hey Babadoo.
Babadoo: What is it Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: I'm reading some quotes from Henry Miller you might like.
Babadoo: Oh, shit, he that pervert who write nastiness. Let's hear it Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: Yeah, but these aren't like that Babadoo, so calm yourself.
Babadoo: Then don't bother me; I'm looking at my fingers. Have you looked at your fingers recently Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: You're fucked up Babadoo. Listen to this one: “It's silly to go on pretending that under the skin we are all brothers. The truth is more likely that under the skin we are all cannibals, assassins, traitors, liars, hypocrites, poltroons.”
Babadoo: I tell you one thing I ain't, and that's a poltroon. Whabadoo, what the fuck is a poltroon? Is he from Mexico?
Whabadoo: I think it means coward, Babadoo.
Babadoo: Oh. He right. Hey, Whabadoo, are you an assassin?
Whabadoo: Babadoo, that was the worst Brando impersonation I've ever heard.
Babadoo: Brando? I was doing Nixon. Shit, look at these fingers!
Whabadoo: You got some hairy fingers, that are for sure.
Babadoo: Here's another: “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
Babadoo: Now you're talking. Wait, I'm lost...
Whabadoo: And: “not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves.”
Babadoo: Nope, still lost. What do you think they'd look like shaved Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: Don't shave your fingers Babadoo. What about this one: “Our own physical body possesses a wisdom which we who inhabit the body lack. “
Babadoo: No, I think I'm going to shave them. Give me something sharp. I want smooth fingers, and I want them now.
Whabadoo: Fuck, you need to see some sunlight
Babadoo. He also says: “If shit is ever worth anything, the poor will be born without assholes.”
Babadoo: You know Steve, down at the corner store? He told me he has two. Two assholes. Shit.
Whabadoo. Babadoo, stay clear of Steve. You know he ain't right.
Babadoo: Why you got to be racist. Just because the guy's got two assholes...
Whabadoo: Racist? Babadoo, put down that goddamn knife. Listen: “We have two American flags always: one for the rich and one for the poor. When the rich fly it means that things are under control; when the poor fly it means danger, revolution, anarchy.”
Babadoo: It doesn't work. How can you shave with a knife? I'll be right back. Hey, Whabadoo, check out the cat.
Whabadoo: That cat's nuts. Why is he looking at us like that?
Babadoo: You feed him yet? I bet he hungry. He look hungry.
Whabadoo: Hey, here's another good one: “Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything Godlike about God it is that. He dared to imagine everything.”
Babadoo: I wish I had $5 of what he's on. Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo?
Babadoo: That cat, he still staring. Make him stop.
Whabadoo: Just ignore him Babadoo. He just fucking with you because he knows he can.
Babadoo: Damn.
Whabadoo: Damn.
Babadoo: Shit
Whabadoo: Just ignore him, I told you.
Babadoo: Damn
Whabadoo: OK, here's an appropriate one Babadoo: “We do not talk - we bludgeon one another with facts and theories gleaned from cursory readings of newspapers, magazines and digests.”
Babadoo: Yeah, I get it, hit me again, I can take it.
Whabadoo: “Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don't take it too seriously. The waking mind is the least serviceable in the arts.”
“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely AWARE.”
Babadoo: OK, OK, enough. Let me see your fingers. I want to try something...
Whabadoo: Babadoo, you're fucked up. One last one to think about: “Whenever a taboo is broken, something good happens, something vitalizing. Taboos after all are only hangovers, the product of diseased minds, you might say, of fearsome people who hadn't the courage to live and who under the guise of morality and religion have imposed these things upon us.”
Babadoo: Yeah. Taboos. Come here and give me a big sloppy kiss Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: Shit, Babadoo. What would the cat think? “When shit becomes valuable, the poor will be born without assholes.”
Babadoo: OK.
[ten minutes later]
Whabadoo: Hey Babadoo.
Babadoo: What is it Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: I'm reading some quotes from Henry Miller you might like.
Babadoo: Oh, shit, he that pervert who write nastiness. Let's hear it Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: Yeah, but these aren't like that Babadoo, so calm yourself.
Babadoo: Then don't bother me; I'm looking at my fingers. Have you looked at your fingers recently Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: You're fucked up Babadoo. Listen to this one: “It's silly to go on pretending that under the skin we are all brothers. The truth is more likely that under the skin we are all cannibals, assassins, traitors, liars, hypocrites, poltroons.”
Babadoo: I tell you one thing I ain't, and that's a poltroon. Whabadoo, what the fuck is a poltroon? Is he from Mexico?
Whabadoo: I think it means coward, Babadoo.
Babadoo: Oh. He right. Hey, Whabadoo, are you an assassin?
Whabadoo: Babadoo, that was the worst Brando impersonation I've ever heard.
Babadoo: Brando? I was doing Nixon. Shit, look at these fingers!
Whabadoo: You got some hairy fingers, that are for sure.
Babadoo: Here's another: “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
Babadoo: Now you're talking. Wait, I'm lost...
Whabadoo: And: “not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves.”
Babadoo: Nope, still lost. What do you think they'd look like shaved Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: Don't shave your fingers Babadoo. What about this one: “Our own physical body possesses a wisdom which we who inhabit the body lack. “
Babadoo: No, I think I'm going to shave them. Give me something sharp. I want smooth fingers, and I want them now.
Whabadoo: Fuck, you need to see some sunlight
Babadoo. He also says: “If shit is ever worth anything, the poor will be born without assholes.”
Babadoo: You know Steve, down at the corner store? He told me he has two. Two assholes. Shit.
Whabadoo. Babadoo, stay clear of Steve. You know he ain't right.
Babadoo: Why you got to be racist. Just because the guy's got two assholes...
Whabadoo: Racist? Babadoo, put down that goddamn knife. Listen: “We have two American flags always: one for the rich and one for the poor. When the rich fly it means that things are under control; when the poor fly it means danger, revolution, anarchy.”
Babadoo: It doesn't work. How can you shave with a knife? I'll be right back. Hey, Whabadoo, check out the cat.
Whabadoo: That cat's nuts. Why is he looking at us like that?
Babadoo: You feed him yet? I bet he hungry. He look hungry.
Whabadoo: Hey, here's another good one: “Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything Godlike about God it is that. He dared to imagine everything.”
Babadoo: I wish I had $5 of what he's on. Whabadoo?
Whabadoo: What is it Babadoo?
Babadoo: That cat, he still staring. Make him stop.
Whabadoo: Just ignore him Babadoo. He just fucking with you because he knows he can.
Babadoo: Damn.
Whabadoo: Damn.
Babadoo: Shit
Whabadoo: Just ignore him, I told you.
Babadoo: Damn
Whabadoo: OK, here's an appropriate one Babadoo: “We do not talk - we bludgeon one another with facts and theories gleaned from cursory readings of newspapers, magazines and digests.”
Babadoo: Yeah, I get it, hit me again, I can take it.
Whabadoo: “Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don't take it too seriously. The waking mind is the least serviceable in the arts.”
“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely AWARE.”
Babadoo: OK, OK, enough. Let me see your fingers. I want to try something...
Whabadoo: Babadoo, you're fucked up. One last one to think about: “Whenever a taboo is broken, something good happens, something vitalizing. Taboos after all are only hangovers, the product of diseased minds, you might say, of fearsome people who hadn't the courage to live and who under the guise of morality and religion have imposed these things upon us.”
Babadoo: Yeah. Taboos. Come here and give me a big sloppy kiss Whabadoo.
Whabadoo: Shit, Babadoo. What would the cat think? “When shit becomes valuable, the poor will be born without assholes.”
3.14.2005
3.11.2005
3.10.2005
3.09.2005
3.08.2005
Blogging? Blogs? Blogger? What the hell is that all about, anyhow? Stupid, overly self-intersted, self-absorbed kids today. Like anyone cares about what anyone else is thinking or doing. Really?!
Hi! How are you? I'm bored too.
Uh, yeah, TTBOTT, odd, huh? I don't find it so odd. It's all true, all honest. If you were to poke my head with a sharpened stick, it's what would have come out yesterday. Tomorrow? Maybe something entirely different would leak. Right?
But, people need to remember my truth is to the middlespaces. And "middlespace" is still defined as: middlespace is the interpretive manifestation of thoughts and ideas as expressed within the context of personal or intimate experiential journeys.
Middlespace: that place...
I set out to make a middlespace album and I will make more. If I cared about mass appeal, I'd never make art. Art is personal. Art runs parallel to emotions; to psychology. Craft is something entirely different. Mass appeal is greatly overappreciated. But, let's never forget the power of the muse.
So, TTBOTT, odd, huh? It's a story, like the bible.
Hi! How are you? I'm bored too.
Uh, yeah, TTBOTT, odd, huh? I don't find it so odd. It's all true, all honest. If you were to poke my head with a sharpened stick, it's what would have come out yesterday. Tomorrow? Maybe something entirely different would leak. Right?
But, people need to remember my truth is to the middlespaces. And "middlespace" is still defined as: middlespace is the interpretive manifestation of thoughts and ideas as expressed within the context of personal or intimate experiential journeys.
Middlespace: that place...
I set out to make a middlespace album and I will make more. If I cared about mass appeal, I'd never make art. Art is personal. Art runs parallel to emotions; to psychology. Craft is something entirely different. Mass appeal is greatly overappreciated. But, let's never forget the power of the muse.
So, TTBOTT, odd, huh? It's a story, like the bible.
What are "they" saying about "take the branches off the trees"?
[the context doesn't really matter]
- "It's really fucking good...good shit."
- "How the fuck do expect me, as a rational human being, to respond to this?! How am I SUPPOSED to respond...to THAT?! What the FUCK was...was THAT?!"
- "There are no words."
- I listened to ttbott...while we painted designs on shirts. It's really fucking good. Perfect for listening while smoking, drawing - even without headphones, great. I mean, I knew there was more going on in the track...but that really didn't detract any. We listened to Bauhaus after - freaky good shit.
- "...kind of made me a little sick."
- "There is some arrogance there, as in, while I listen, I know some things will be completely beyond nearly every other mortal, but I understand it."
- "Dude, there is shit in there that I get, believe me, I get it, but what the FUCK was that?!"
- "How is the rest of the world supposed to react to that?"
- "Genius."
- "...startled the hell out of me."
- "...fucking weird."
- "I think it's definitely in a new genre of music."
- "It was genius. I just have no idea what just happened."
- "I don't think most people would be willing to appreciate the longer tracks like 12 which are dense and difficult to understand."
- "They're mind drifting tracks."
[the context doesn't really matter]
- "It's really fucking good...good shit."
- "How the fuck do expect me, as a rational human being, to respond to this?! How am I SUPPOSED to respond...to THAT?! What the FUCK was...was THAT?!"
- "There are no words."
- I listened to ttbott...while we painted designs on shirts. It's really fucking good. Perfect for listening while smoking, drawing - even without headphones, great. I mean, I knew there was more going on in the track...but that really didn't detract any. We listened to Bauhaus after - freaky good shit.
- "...kind of made me a little sick."
- "There is some arrogance there, as in, while I listen, I know some things will be completely beyond nearly every other mortal, but I understand it."
- "Dude, there is shit in there that I get, believe me, I get it, but what the FUCK was that?!"
- "How is the rest of the world supposed to react to that?"
- "Genius."
- "...startled the hell out of me."
- "...fucking weird."
- "I think it's definitely in a new genre of music."
- "It was genius. I just have no idea what just happened."
- "I don't think most people would be willing to appreciate the longer tracks like 12 which are dense and difficult to understand."
- "They're mind drifting tracks."
3.07.2005
so, "take the branches off the trees" is done, now that the remaining album images are up. [here, fool]
i'm releived. tired. rehabilitating.
but, secretly ready to start the next record (i'm ready to go higher concept).
Bush is still not governing in my best interest.
i'm releived. tired. rehabilitating.
but, secretly ready to start the next record (i'm ready to go higher concept).
Bush is still not governing in my best interest.
3.03.2005
In comparison:
This new tKoL album...jesus, where to start? First it's a "tKoL" album, not a "the Kingdom of Leisure" album, just tKoL.
It's a history text, an encyclopedia. It's an adventure. There are specific lessons to be learned, mostly about me. So, yeah, it's a bit autobiographical. It's patient and the listener has to be a little patient as well.
I'm not trying to hype anyone, I don't really care for that. But, there's a story; a plan. It may suck, but I lost a bit of myself in this process, I probably shortened my life by a couple of years. I don't know. I'm happy it's done and I survived it. I learned a lot too.
This new tKoL album...jesus, where to start? First it's a "tKoL" album, not a "the Kingdom of Leisure" album, just tKoL.
It's a history text, an encyclopedia. It's an adventure. There are specific lessons to be learned, mostly about me. So, yeah, it's a bit autobiographical. It's patient and the listener has to be a little patient as well.
I'm not trying to hype anyone, I don't really care for that. But, there's a story; a plan. It may suck, but I lost a bit of myself in this process, I probably shortened my life by a couple of years. I don't know. I'm happy it's done and I survived it. I learned a lot too.
STUDIO DIARY
That's it. Anticlimatic, huh?
Major recording operations for this album have ended.
I just need to spend some time EQing, balancing, finishing touches, you know. Maybe even find places to scale back, but I'll probably talk myself out of that.
Okay, the artwork still needs to be done and some sort of packaging effort.
But, the album is done.
That's it. Anticlimatic, huh?
Major recording operations for this album have ended.
I just need to spend some time EQing, balancing, finishing touches, you know. Maybe even find places to scale back, but I'll probably talk myself out of that.
Okay, the artwork still needs to be done and some sort of packaging effort.
But, the album is done.
2.22.2005
He Just Knew it was Over
"It is his special curse: to be able to fill his body with alcohol and drugs, and always have it function; never to be able to blot out what he has seen, what he knows. And looking around, he knows that it is over: the revolution, the fighting, the chance to be different. The counterculture has become The Culture, and out there in the streets is the proof...." (1976)
- Robert Sam Anson
"It is his special curse: to be able to fill his body with alcohol and drugs, and always have it function; never to be able to blot out what he has seen, what he knows. And looking around, he knows that it is over: the revolution, the fighting, the chance to be different. The counterculture has become The Culture, and out there in the streets is the proof...." (1976)
- Robert Sam Anson
2.18.2005
STUDIO DIARY
I've been hand's off, for the most part. I need space. Space to forget. Space for the ears to heal. Space to think.
Needless to say, the record is always on my mind. In everything I do.
Listening to everything: music, sounds, noise, rumblings...words.
Getting closer. Will it be the masterpiece? Dunno. Will it be laughable shit? Dunno.
I see the mountain of work left, but am already saddened that it has to come to a conclusion.
Albums are trippy like that.
I've been hand's off, for the most part. I need space. Space to forget. Space for the ears to heal. Space to think.
Needless to say, the record is always on my mind. In everything I do.
Listening to everything: music, sounds, noise, rumblings...words.
Getting closer. Will it be the masterpiece? Dunno. Will it be laughable shit? Dunno.
I see the mountain of work left, but am already saddened that it has to come to a conclusion.
Albums are trippy like that.
2.10.2005
2.09.2005
Cleverness is never as entertaining as blatant stupidity, failure and public humiliation.... The time of getting fame for your name on its own is over. Artwork that is only about wanting to be famous will never make you famous. Any fame is a bi-product of making something that means something. You don't go to a restaurant and order a meal because you want to have a shit.- Banksy
From late 1998:
It's a Very Different World Again
Between all this Presidential blow-job cover-up nonsense and the bombing of terrorists (us & them, here & abroad), our world is again a very different place. Privacy doesn't exist. Peace does not exist. We've fooled ourselves to believe that they both exist. Our culture stagnates while cigar bars flourish. How did we become so deluded? Well, times have been good. Money is in the bank. Porsche sales are at an all time high. Well, believe me, there are more desperate poor in America today than at any other time. There are more people in prison in America than at any other time. The good old USofA has more internal and external enemies than at any other time. But times are good, remember.
This is a country for the young and the rich. If you are not either, you are nothing. If you are both, you're fat and happy (Americans are the fattest beasts on the planet). Why are we so consumed with Presidential fellatio? Why does the TV news compete to dictate what is important? We've forgotten what's important...because times have been so good. Individuals have grown selfish and narrow. The American economy is strong and the rich and the young are in control. Have you watched network television or listened to commercial radio lately? We live in happy-talk times, folks. We're dim to the ills of our own old and poor and we are completely blind to the relevant issues of the world. We're over-sensationalized ourselves into a coma. History predicts change.
For those who keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground, it's in the air. Things change. Someone has to take advantage.
It's a Very Different World Again
Between all this Presidential blow-job cover-up nonsense and the bombing of terrorists (us & them, here & abroad), our world is again a very different place. Privacy doesn't exist. Peace does not exist. We've fooled ourselves to believe that they both exist. Our culture stagnates while cigar bars flourish. How did we become so deluded? Well, times have been good. Money is in the bank. Porsche sales are at an all time high. Well, believe me, there are more desperate poor in America today than at any other time. There are more people in prison in America than at any other time. The good old USofA has more internal and external enemies than at any other time. But times are good, remember.
This is a country for the young and the rich. If you are not either, you are nothing. If you are both, you're fat and happy (Americans are the fattest beasts on the planet). Why are we so consumed with Presidential fellatio? Why does the TV news compete to dictate what is important? We've forgotten what's important...because times have been so good. Individuals have grown selfish and narrow. The American economy is strong and the rich and the young are in control. Have you watched network television or listened to commercial radio lately? We live in happy-talk times, folks. We're dim to the ills of our own old and poor and we are completely blind to the relevant issues of the world. We're over-sensationalized ourselves into a coma. History predicts change.
For those who keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground, it's in the air. Things change. Someone has to take advantage.
2.08.2005
On another note, I'm almost at the point with this new record where I sell a few more bones to the devil and leave a pint of blood on the floor. The point where one puts one's heart into the project. Sometimes that comes early and you clean it up in production. Sometimes you do the left brain stuff up front and build a solid foundation, then you color out of the lines.
Once I cocoa up, I think I can put the emotion in and go into the middlespace. I may or may not come out with shoes.
I'm almost there. It's a defining point; the point where the result is art or product. The point where, if you're lucky, you fall squarely onto the favorable side of the conceptually stellar ^ random nonesense razor.
Once I cocoa up, I think I can put the emotion in and go into the middlespace. I may or may not come out with shoes.
I'm almost there. It's a defining point; the point where the result is art or product. The point where, if you're lucky, you fall squarely onto the favorable side of the conceptually stellar ^ random nonesense razor.
2.07.2005
STUDIO DIARY
Something was bothering me. Specifically, I couldn't pinpoint. But, something was wrong with track seven, The Mighty Judge.
After the preliminary mixdown, I knew that it would require major work to make it usable. At some point a couple of nights ago, I woke up, went down stairs and deleter track seven. Scrapped in total. Delete, are you sure? Yes! Bye-bye.
I've never flet better.
The replacement tune, tentatively titled Track Seven, makes me happy. Very happy. It's not nearly as technically difficult or conceptually challenging, but it's warm and cozy. Safe.
Good for me.
Something was bothering me. Specifically, I couldn't pinpoint. But, something was wrong with track seven, The Mighty Judge.
After the preliminary mixdown, I knew that it would require major work to make it usable. At some point a couple of nights ago, I woke up, went down stairs and deleter track seven. Scrapped in total. Delete, are you sure? Yes! Bye-bye.
I've never flet better.
The replacement tune, tentatively titled Track Seven, makes me happy. Very happy. It's not nearly as technically difficult or conceptually challenging, but it's warm and cozy. Safe.
Good for me.
2.04.2005
STUDIO DIARY
First full-length mix-down today.
Some stuff finished, some with great potential. Some work remaining, some fixes and adjustments to be made. Lots of nitpicky crafting to accomplish. Perfection to attain.
At one section of the seventh cut, I wrote in my notes "More sonic adventures?" Is that possible? What does this piece of work mean?
At ~45 minutes it's already pretty dense (and strange (and confusing (and fucking beautiful!))).
I guess the good news is I did find 18 seconds to cut...
There's a couple of months left in this project yet.
Today's words of wisdom: What may sound great on headphones may sound completely ridiculous on speakers.
First full-length mix-down today.
Some stuff finished, some with great potential. Some work remaining, some fixes and adjustments to be made. Lots of nitpicky crafting to accomplish. Perfection to attain.
At one section of the seventh cut, I wrote in my notes "More sonic adventures?" Is that possible? What does this piece of work mean?
At ~45 minutes it's already pretty dense (and strange (and confusing (and fucking beautiful!))).
I guess the good news is I did find 18 seconds to cut...
There's a couple of months left in this project yet.
Today's words of wisdom: What may sound great on headphones may sound completely ridiculous on speakers.
2.01.2005
1.31.2005
STUDIO DIARY
TY: This album is getting weird, even for me. It's kind of scaring me, but I have no context or feedback. So far it's completely in a vacuum. I just hope it doesn't suck.
DAVE: I hope it doesn't either. What an embarrassment and tremendous waste of time it would be for you if it did.
OK, just echoing your fears. Of course that's not true! I guess that's the way you start to feel sometimes when you tell someone you're going to do something as opposed to doing it first. It can get in the way, the expectations, or imagined expectations I should say. Okay, just projecting my fears on you.
Weird and scary. I like it already.
TY: What's interesting is I'm working on projects all the time - constantly - most of those no one sees or hears. They're just filed away, maybe for practice for sharpness. But, I stay somewhat productive: writing, photos, design, music/sound. And, I'm thinking about art all the time. But, nobody knows or cares, right?
But, by announcing, "Hey, look at me, I'm gonna make a new album, aren't I cool and interesting?!" it intentionally puts a great deal of pressure on me, self-inflected pressures. I become very sensitized and cognizant of expectations. Rich, Dave, Dan, three or four others...me! Each step of the process becomes double-filtered: What I want to do and what impact will it have on/for others. Makes it hard, but helps me build in surprises or the unexpected. Makes me work for quality. Makes me sweat the details.
And expectations are great. For me and hopefully for others. I mean, what could people possibly think this will sound like? That's so interesting to me. I mean, what if I produce a clean, professional, pop album full of light, safe topics? I mean, we killed god on OFR. What if it just sucked? Everything about it, sloppy technique, bad ideas, amateurish attempt at being relevant or a desperate attempt at being fresh? Happens all the time; artists lose it, writers get blocked, rock stars buy the act and cannot see the forest any more. Happens all the time.
I don't know. I still feel that most people will never get what I do. That's why my attended audiences are so small. Hopefully, maybe Brennan can do this, someday my lifelong body of work will be placed into some context. Or, maybe it'll just die with me like my deepest, darkest secrets.
Suck or not, it'll take years for me to understand or appreciate the efforts. I'm just beginning to understand my earlier work.
TY: This album is getting weird, even for me. It's kind of scaring me, but I have no context or feedback. So far it's completely in a vacuum. I just hope it doesn't suck.
DAVE: I hope it doesn't either. What an embarrassment and tremendous waste of time it would be for you if it did.
OK, just echoing your fears. Of course that's not true! I guess that's the way you start to feel sometimes when you tell someone you're going to do something as opposed to doing it first. It can get in the way, the expectations, or imagined expectations I should say. Okay, just projecting my fears on you.
Weird and scary. I like it already.
TY: What's interesting is I'm working on projects all the time - constantly - most of those no one sees or hears. They're just filed away, maybe for practice for sharpness. But, I stay somewhat productive: writing, photos, design, music/sound. And, I'm thinking about art all the time. But, nobody knows or cares, right?
But, by announcing, "Hey, look at me, I'm gonna make a new album, aren't I cool and interesting?!" it intentionally puts a great deal of pressure on me, self-inflected pressures. I become very sensitized and cognizant of expectations. Rich, Dave, Dan, three or four others...me! Each step of the process becomes double-filtered: What I want to do and what impact will it have on/for others. Makes it hard, but helps me build in surprises or the unexpected. Makes me work for quality. Makes me sweat the details.
And expectations are great. For me and hopefully for others. I mean, what could people possibly think this will sound like? That's so interesting to me. I mean, what if I produce a clean, professional, pop album full of light, safe topics? I mean, we killed god on OFR. What if it just sucked? Everything about it, sloppy technique, bad ideas, amateurish attempt at being relevant or a desperate attempt at being fresh? Happens all the time; artists lose it, writers get blocked, rock stars buy the act and cannot see the forest any more. Happens all the time.
I don't know. I still feel that most people will never get what I do. That's why my attended audiences are so small. Hopefully, maybe Brennan can do this, someday my lifelong body of work will be placed into some context. Or, maybe it'll just die with me like my deepest, darkest secrets.
Suck or not, it'll take years for me to understand or appreciate the efforts. I'm just beginning to understand my earlier work.
1.28.2005
1.23.2005
1.22.2005
1.17.2005
1.10.2005
1.04.2005
Daniel Lefcourt is a non-painter's painter.
He's an artist who happens to make paintings—although maybe this could be said of all painters.
He's an artist who happens to make paintings—although maybe this could be said of all painters.
Studio Diary - Ponderings
Why do I even have to describe what I do to anyone (anymore)? Maybe it's that I don't understand what it is anymore.
Is it that I aspire to make music or complicated sound patterns? Sometimes I use the word "music" to describe what I do. Whatever it is I do. Art. Whatever art is. Knob turning, sampling, stealing, amusing.
Some sounds are appealing, some not. But this is a case of individual differences... "Dissonance is my harmony; chaos is my rhythm."
Can you feel that baby
It's called Funkadelic music
It will blow your funky mind
Yeah!
Twenty questions from a course in Music Cognition:
Why do people make music?
How do composers know what to write?
How does music give pleasure?
Are musical preferences related to personality?
Why do we need so much music and so much musical variety -- why don't we limit our listening to just the dozen best works?
Does music always have to involve sounds?
Are there certain life experiences that contribute to a person's understanding of music?
Why are melody and rhythm so important in music?
What makes something "musical"?
How are musical memories stored in the brain?
How does repeated listening to a work change our experience of it?
How does music evoke emotions?
How is it that some people are able to improvise music?
Is music a spiritual phenomenon?
Are there musical hallucinations?
Can drugs enhance musical pleasure?
Are there brain structures specialized for just music?
Does a music tell us something about the people who make it?
Are there different ways of "listening"?
What is the relationship between music and the other arts?
Why do I even have to describe what I do to anyone (anymore)? Maybe it's that I don't understand what it is anymore.
Is it that I aspire to make music or complicated sound patterns? Sometimes I use the word "music" to describe what I do. Whatever it is I do. Art. Whatever art is. Knob turning, sampling, stealing, amusing.
Some sounds are appealing, some not. But this is a case of individual differences... "Dissonance is my harmony; chaos is my rhythm."
Can you feel that baby
It's called Funkadelic music
It will blow your funky mind
Yeah!
Twenty questions from a course in Music Cognition:
Why do people make music?
How do composers know what to write?
How does music give pleasure?
Are musical preferences related to personality?
Why do we need so much music and so much musical variety -- why don't we limit our listening to just the dozen best works?
Does music always have to involve sounds?
Are there certain life experiences that contribute to a person's understanding of music?
Why are melody and rhythm so important in music?
What makes something "musical"?
How are musical memories stored in the brain?
How does repeated listening to a work change our experience of it?
How does music evoke emotions?
How is it that some people are able to improvise music?
Is music a spiritual phenomenon?
Are there musical hallucinations?
Can drugs enhance musical pleasure?
Are there brain structures specialized for just music?
Does a music tell us something about the people who make it?
Are there different ways of "listening"?
What is the relationship between music and the other arts?
12.31.2004
Studio Diary - Discussions
A Four-Way:
Although I’ve gained a newfound appreciation for the song (the craft, hooks, construction, etc.), I cannot remove myself from the album. The big piece, the opera, the whole rodeo. It’s like continents fitting together to form a planet, or better, finding the right planets to construct the perfect solar system. Song = hard. Album = impossible. Why sell your art short?
I just had a complete shift in thought. I have always been pro-album. As in the songs should be taken in context, the album as "whole," etc, that kind of shit, you know what I mean.
Noise, amp buzz, street sounds, it's all part of the final package.
You’re right about wanting that message in a bottle to come back to you. I mean, what do you put in a bottle you throw in the ocean? Your address so you can get it back. But getting it back isn't the important thing, it's the person bringing it back - you FOUND that person. You and this person are now connected in a way you aren't with anyone else. Possibly this is the person you were looking for? Or maybe it's to see if you can effect change over great distances in space or time. Yeah, that too.
For example, I prefer headphones and conceptual, obtusely narrative albums because those aid me in the hijacking. The experiences I create are intended for full immersion rather than background or sing along music. And it's has more than a little to do with the fact that I don't perform live anymore. And the experience, if successful, should continue after listening by posing questions, leaving messages, creating mysteries, and establishing a compelling and reflective (if imaginary) world to be considered between listenings.
Being half white/half black, I’ve always felt comfortable making both highly uncomfortable. That’s why I drove people like R.J. crazy. Not from a race perspective, but they can’t comprehend what I’m doing or what I’ll do next.
I’ve always wrapped my art around the conceptual. As far as audiences, I maintain that I make stuff for a limited audience, but I really make stuff for me to rediscover many years in the future, what I call future gifting. I’ve spent most of my adult life stumbling across future gifts. It’s like finding stash from last winter in your heavy coat.
I wish I had a pony.
We, the family, were talking over the holiday about the supposed demise of albums (CDs, etc.) because, as we are being told by some pundits, everything will be available electronically and everyone will just go out and download (buy or not) what they want to hear, etc. We all agreed that this won't happen as quickly as some say (some are saying by the end of this year). As I was listening to "The Wall" (the album), one of Petey's presents, I realized another reason it won't happen that easily: many albums exist in their form for a reason. Albums are wholes with the parts generally in intentional arrangements. Infinite mixing, unlimited electronic shuffling would be tantamount for many albums, many artists, to shuffle reading a novel -- chapter 12, chapter 3, chapter 43, chapter 8, chapter 34. (Of course, I suppose albums can become single files -- i.e., a single "son.")
Anyhow, good you're working on this. Must be a creative thing in the air. About a month ago I began working on a bread cookbook that I have been mulling over for years (I do a lot of bread baking - have published many recipes). Something in the air?
A Four-Way:
Although I’ve gained a newfound appreciation for the song (the craft, hooks, construction, etc.), I cannot remove myself from the album. The big piece, the opera, the whole rodeo. It’s like continents fitting together to form a planet, or better, finding the right planets to construct the perfect solar system. Song = hard. Album = impossible. Why sell your art short?
I just had a complete shift in thought. I have always been pro-album. As in the songs should be taken in context, the album as "whole," etc, that kind of shit, you know what I mean.
Noise, amp buzz, street sounds, it's all part of the final package.
You’re right about wanting that message in a bottle to come back to you. I mean, what do you put in a bottle you throw in the ocean? Your address so you can get it back. But getting it back isn't the important thing, it's the person bringing it back - you FOUND that person. You and this person are now connected in a way you aren't with anyone else. Possibly this is the person you were looking for? Or maybe it's to see if you can effect change over great distances in space or time. Yeah, that too.
For example, I prefer headphones and conceptual, obtusely narrative albums because those aid me in the hijacking. The experiences I create are intended for full immersion rather than background or sing along music. And it's has more than a little to do with the fact that I don't perform live anymore. And the experience, if successful, should continue after listening by posing questions, leaving messages, creating mysteries, and establishing a compelling and reflective (if imaginary) world to be considered between listenings.
Being half white/half black, I’ve always felt comfortable making both highly uncomfortable. That’s why I drove people like R.J. crazy. Not from a race perspective, but they can’t comprehend what I’m doing or what I’ll do next.
I’ve always wrapped my art around the conceptual. As far as audiences, I maintain that I make stuff for a limited audience, but I really make stuff for me to rediscover many years in the future, what I call future gifting. I’ve spent most of my adult life stumbling across future gifts. It’s like finding stash from last winter in your heavy coat.
I wish I had a pony.
We, the family, were talking over the holiday about the supposed demise of albums (CDs, etc.) because, as we are being told by some pundits, everything will be available electronically and everyone will just go out and download (buy or not) what they want to hear, etc. We all agreed that this won't happen as quickly as some say (some are saying by the end of this year). As I was listening to "The Wall" (the album), one of Petey's presents, I realized another reason it won't happen that easily: many albums exist in their form for a reason. Albums are wholes with the parts generally in intentional arrangements. Infinite mixing, unlimited electronic shuffling would be tantamount for many albums, many artists, to shuffle reading a novel -- chapter 12, chapter 3, chapter 43, chapter 8, chapter 34. (Of course, I suppose albums can become single files -- i.e., a single "son.")
Anyhow, good you're working on this. Must be a creative thing in the air. About a month ago I began working on a bread cookbook that I have been mulling over for years (I do a lot of bread baking - have published many recipes). Something in the air?
12.30.2004
Studio Diary - two
Yeah, I've had a similar shift too.
I enjoy songs. If a group is not up to an album, they make two good songs and fill with shit.
I've just started a new project. I'll know when I'm finished. Maybe a couple long songs, or an album. I don't know yet.
But, it won't contain a bunch of filler since I'm not making it for a corporation and have "contractual obligations."
But, there are still classic and perfect albums; full pieces that deserve the room.
But, yeah the fucking devil. Great title, by the way: "The Fucking Devil"
12.29.2004
STUDIO DIARY - one
Excuses behind me, loads of work before me.
Department of Experimental Accounting.
Drums
Guitar - acoustic
Guitar - electric
Piano - baby grand, out of tune
Keyboard
Toy piano
Soprano Ukulele
Bass - electro/acoustic
Years of recorded samples and field recordings
Bunch of other shit
Tsunami
I'm getting kind of old to again make the best album ever. This might be it. You know, "it."
The Floods of Lexington Pacheco
Music to Nod-off to
Funeral
Dark
Joyous
Stolen Democracy
Here we go...all these ideas I've incubated (all somehow magically lost right now) over the years are ready to do something.
The best thing about this effort will be getting it out of my head.
Excuses behind me, loads of work before me.
Department of Experimental Accounting.
Drums
Guitar - acoustic
Guitar - electric
Piano - baby grand, out of tune
Keyboard
Toy piano
Soprano Ukulele
Bass - electro/acoustic
Years of recorded samples and field recordings
Bunch of other shit
Tsunami
I'm getting kind of old to again make the best album ever. This might be it. You know, "it."
The Floods of Lexington Pacheco
Music to Nod-off to
Funeral
Dark
Joyous
Stolen Democracy
Here we go...all these ideas I've incubated (all somehow magically lost right now) over the years are ready to do something.
The best thing about this effort will be getting it out of my head.
12.16.2004
[Post Originally Untitled]
They say write [about] what you know
But what if you know very little or practically nothing?
What if the only thing you know about
Makes little or no sense to anyone – including yourself sometimes?
There are the absolutes
I know that fire is hot; it also burns and you can cook with it
I know I cannot breathe under water
I know that if my heart stops beating, I’ll die
I know if I don’t eat, I get awfully hungry
My intestines work involuntarily
But about the pain and confusion
About the pondering and observations?
And the loss of vocabulary regarding
Banal discussions about lines or weather?
Does anyone really care?
I know about the urges and the want
Bottlenecks of energies unfulfilled
I know that it’s all make believe
The politics the religions and the careers
Smokes and mirrors – sleight of hand - knots
The arts and some crafts make happiness
As do simple moments unspoken unpromised
I know it’s all going to come to an abrupt and brutal end
I know, I know, it’s all so depressing
I suppose the answer it to not write - this I know
But what if you know very little or practically nothing?
What if the only thing you know about
Makes little or no sense to anyone – including yourself sometimes?
There are the absolutes
I know that fire is hot; it also burns and you can cook with it
I know I cannot breathe under water
I know that if my heart stops beating, I’ll die
I know if I don’t eat, I get awfully hungry
My intestines work involuntarily
But about the pain and confusion
About the pondering and observations?
And the loss of vocabulary regarding
Banal discussions about lines or weather?
Does anyone really care?
I know about the urges and the want
Bottlenecks of energies unfulfilled
I know that it’s all make believe
The politics the religions and the careers
Smokes and mirrors – sleight of hand - knots
The arts and some crafts make happiness
As do simple moments unspoken unpromised
I know it’s all going to come to an abrupt and brutal end
I know, I know, it’s all so depressing
I suppose the answer it to not write - this I know
12.12.2004
Step Aside, Clyde
It's complex, really
Chemistry of the brain
and the tweaks and nudges
We add
50 milligrams, or so, at a time
Confidence sans agression
Socialization sans pretense
You will know -- you will know
Since we are still unlike the rest
Get over your disrespect
Educate yourself
This is it
And we're all in the together
in this short, short life
Make fun not wars
Vacations for the arts
Inorganic in conjunction with the organic
I suffer no trauma, doll
It's complex, really
Chemistry of the brain
and the tweaks and nudges
We add
50 milligrams, or so, at a time
Confidence sans agression
Socialization sans pretense
You will know -- you will know
Since we are still unlike the rest
Get over your disrespect
Educate yourself
This is it
And we're all in the together
in this short, short life
Make fun not wars
Vacations for the arts
Inorganic in conjunction with the organic
I suffer no trauma, doll
12.11.2004
12.05.2004
11.18.2004
Prison of the mind
Detention of the soul
Welfare torture static
No more rock 'n roll
Redneck washout nazi
Ghetto homeless stars
Debilitating pathos
No more oil for the cars
Less said is best stated
One nod or shrug a time
Survival has become
Less rhythmic than divine
When the last vote is counted
After the last soldier is dead
When the final baby
Has been dropped upon his head
I will be sitting there
Watching judging scoring
Hoping your holy afterlife
Lets you stop this whoring
Detention of the soul
Welfare torture static
No more rock 'n roll
Redneck washout nazi
Ghetto homeless stars
Debilitating pathos
No more oil for the cars
Less said is best stated
One nod or shrug a time
Survival has become
Less rhythmic than divine
When the last vote is counted
After the last soldier is dead
When the final baby
Has been dropped upon his head
I will be sitting there
Watching judging scoring
Hoping your holy afterlife
Lets you stop this whoring
11.15.2004
blog me
blog you
like i care what you think
like i care if you care what i think
blog this
today i woke up
had a terrible pain in the neck and upper back
took a shower
washed my ass
drove to work
slept on the floor for most of the day
back still hurts
(but ass is sparkling clean)
getting ready to go back home
eat dinner and dim my pain
on cocktails of man made pleasures
and suffer through televised belittlement
like you care
like i care
like insanity of humanity
we can take comfort in safe doses
blog you
like i care what you think
like i care if you care what i think
blog this
today i woke up
had a terrible pain in the neck and upper back
took a shower
washed my ass
drove to work
slept on the floor for most of the day
back still hurts
(but ass is sparkling clean)
getting ready to go back home
eat dinner and dim my pain
on cocktails of man made pleasures
and suffer through televised belittlement
like you care
like i care
like insanity of humanity
we can take comfort in safe doses
11.13.2004
11.08.2004
It was decided at a very young age that an artist I was to be. Clearly, that was the direction to head. Clearly, it was intuited that creating overshadowed consuming.
This so-called dabbling has taken me to many places and on many journeys that I probably never would have embarked, nor expected. Or survived. I’ve been to the bowels of middle spaces.
All the experimenting. The tests. Litmus. Educating. The building of infrastructure. Future gifting. All for what? For self or for humanity?
Through many slogans, logos and campaigns, I return to where it all started. Fate intervening, as usual, generally for the betterment. Will imposed by force or by subconscious processing. But, I have indeed returned to the beginning; full circle.
The mind as the finest art. The heart as the barometer. Souls bartered for returns to glory’s past. Fuck or be fucked. Naked, alone, and afraid.
Belief that whatever you’ve wanted, you could have. All of it. You just have to have the want enough. You just have to transform desire into necessity. Forced, by will of mind and psychological jiu-jitsu.
And, when it hits, it hits hard, man. Blocking taste, rest, and erotic desires. We are the junkies. We are the powerless. We are all so fully empty.
This so-called dabbling has taken me to many places and on many journeys that I probably never would have embarked, nor expected. Or survived. I’ve been to the bowels of middle spaces.
All the experimenting. The tests. Litmus. Educating. The building of infrastructure. Future gifting. All for what? For self or for humanity?
Through many slogans, logos and campaigns, I return to where it all started. Fate intervening, as usual, generally for the betterment. Will imposed by force or by subconscious processing. But, I have indeed returned to the beginning; full circle.
The mind as the finest art. The heart as the barometer. Souls bartered for returns to glory’s past. Fuck or be fucked. Naked, alone, and afraid.
Belief that whatever you’ve wanted, you could have. All of it. You just have to have the want enough. You just have to transform desire into necessity. Forced, by will of mind and psychological jiu-jitsu.
And, when it hits, it hits hard, man. Blocking taste, rest, and erotic desires. We are the junkies. We are the powerless. We are all so fully empty.
11.02.2004
10.30.2004
Okay, wouldn't it suck...
So, we know The Election will be a huge deal and very, very close, right?
But, some of us have the balls to sit around guessing that it won't be as close as polling predicts. We're all convinced that Kerry will really crush; resulting in a humiliating Bush tail-between-the-legs defeat. We: the so-called Liberal Intelligensia.
But, what if?
What if the reverse somehow happens? Bush in a Nixonian, Reaganian LANDSLIDE! A fucking mandate!
Wouldn't it suck?!
Once I got out of the psych ward, I'd have to move to Canada, or France...
So, we know The Election will be a huge deal and very, very close, right?
But, some of us have the balls to sit around guessing that it won't be as close as polling predicts. We're all convinced that Kerry will really crush; resulting in a humiliating Bush tail-between-the-legs defeat. We: the so-called Liberal Intelligensia.
But, what if?
What if the reverse somehow happens? Bush in a Nixonian, Reaganian LANDSLIDE! A fucking mandate!
Wouldn't it suck?!
Once I got out of the psych ward, I'd have to move to Canada, or France...
10.18.2004
Six for six
feel the burn
reel the yearn
letting the addiction of insanity
take the mind and body to places
undesireable yet unavoidable
Time to make contingency plans
because the big brave facade
is starting to crumble
into heaps of fear and remorse
shit yeah I'm really, really scared
If I should survive myself
I would be the luckiest man alive
postponing death for at least another year
so I can really say
looking forward at forty
What do they take us for?
Fools?
drunk and high on the power of chickenshit
feel the burn
reel the yearn
letting the addiction of insanity
take the mind and body to places
undesireable yet unavoidable
Time to make contingency plans
because the big brave facade
is starting to crumble
into heaps of fear and remorse
shit yeah I'm really, really scared
If I should survive myself
I would be the luckiest man alive
postponing death for at least another year
so I can really say
looking forward at forty
What do they take us for?
Fools?
drunk and high on the power of chickenshit
10.16.2004
10.15.2004
Pink-eyed self-abuser
of various nouns - indiscriminant
Nuns and homosexuals
sharing psychic spaces if not similar gods
Straw for hair
hammer-headed sharks
bobble-head upon racks of pointy bones
[and I don't like what you got me hangin' from]
RED power tie
WHITE crisp shirt
& BLUE pinstripe suit
Shit for phone hanging from your ear
you got a fucking hole in your shoe!
no one alerted you
of various nouns - indiscriminant
Nuns and homosexuals
sharing psychic spaces if not similar gods
Straw for hair
hammer-headed sharks
bobble-head upon racks of pointy bones
[and I don't like what you got me hangin' from]
RED power tie
WHITE crisp shirt
& BLUE pinstripe suit
Shit for phone hanging from your ear
you got a fucking hole in your shoe!
no one alerted you
Lying motherfuckers
It's time to shut 'em down
Symptom relief without surgery
Hit 'em hard ('cuz this is hard work)
Play the blues
So Partisan It's actually quite painful
Ideology entrenched into competing camps:
I Am Right & They Are Wrong
A universe divided
Split into halves and "haves"
Take me by the hand
Lead me to places where care
Doesn't exist anymore
To states united intelligently
Effectively and carefully
The achievement of balances
Across many multi-layered dimensions
Harmony the ultimate destination
A journey fraught with misery
Unimaginable pain and suffering
Lying motherfuckers all
It's time to shut 'em down
Symptom relief without surgery
Hit 'em hard ('cuz this is hard work)
Play the blues
So Partisan It's actually quite painful
Ideology entrenched into competing camps:
I Am Right & They Are Wrong
A universe divided
Split into halves and "haves"
Take me by the hand
Lead me to places where care
Doesn't exist anymore
To states united intelligently
Effectively and carefully
The achievement of balances
Across many multi-layered dimensions
Harmony the ultimate destination
A journey fraught with misery
Unimaginable pain and suffering
Lying motherfuckers all
9.23.2004
Cycles.
Binge days have begun, in earnest.
Karl Rove.
Listen, children. And, if you had listened the first time, we wouldn't all be in the situation we're in now.
Listen. Follow. Obey. Serve.
I'm here to take the chill off. To soothe the needy.
Karl Rove, my main man.
Let's feast. Let's binge. Let's pillage.
Karl Rove.
Binge days have begun, in earnest.
Karl Rove.
Listen, children. And, if you had listened the first time, we wouldn't all be in the situation we're in now.
Listen. Follow. Obey. Serve.
I'm here to take the chill off. To soothe the needy.
Karl Rove, my main man.
Let's feast. Let's binge. Let's pillage.
Karl Rove.
9.22.2004
On vinyl, "Voodoo Chile" is the end of a side, and "Little Miss Strange" is the beginning of the next side. This makes sense.
Anyhow, the sequence design was for one to take a break after "Voodoo Chile." Rest, roll another. Pee. Eat. Then settle in for the next leg of the tour.
But, after the massive journey of "Chile," even on CD, "Strange" serves a distinct purpose: juxtaposition. It's the cold splash of water that prevents one from becoming insane. It's a life saver. After you realize that you've set yourself on fire, "Strange" is a handy, helpful hose.
It works, think, "Tom's Three Minute Single."
Anyhow, the sequence design was for one to take a break after "Voodoo Chile." Rest, roll another. Pee. Eat. Then settle in for the next leg of the tour.
But, after the massive journey of "Chile," even on CD, "Strange" serves a distinct purpose: juxtaposition. It's the cold splash of water that prevents one from becoming insane. It's a life saver. After you realize that you've set yourself on fire, "Strange" is a handy, helpful hose.
It works, think, "Tom's Three Minute Single."
9.02.2004
From 09.02.04 Washington Post
Hollywood, Calif.: The Republicans must be euphoric. Their leaders have been impressive, especially McCain, Schwarzenegger and Giuliani. The street demonstrations have just shown that the Democrats are not the kind of people you want to trust with important decisions. This convention looks like the turning point in the election. Are they taunting you yet?
Al Franken: Obviously I disagree. I thought Schwarzenegger made a huge mistake with the girly-man comment. I saw Giuliani disgrace himself by lying about Kerry and by exploiting 9/11 in a way that was shameful. For example talking about seeing a guy jump from the Trade Center and then making up this thing about thanking God George W. Bush is president. I don't think the demonstrators who misbehave were Democrats. And while I respect McCain I thought his comments about Michael Moore were unfortunate considering he had never seen the movie as he admitted later.
As far as taunting: you are going to lose, loser.
Hollywood, Calif.: The Republicans must be euphoric. Their leaders have been impressive, especially McCain, Schwarzenegger and Giuliani. The street demonstrations have just shown that the Democrats are not the kind of people you want to trust with important decisions. This convention looks like the turning point in the election. Are they taunting you yet?
Al Franken: Obviously I disagree. I thought Schwarzenegger made a huge mistake with the girly-man comment. I saw Giuliani disgrace himself by lying about Kerry and by exploiting 9/11 in a way that was shameful. For example talking about seeing a guy jump from the Trade Center and then making up this thing about thanking God George W. Bush is president. I don't think the demonstrators who misbehave were Democrats. And while I respect McCain I thought his comments about Michael Moore were unfortunate considering he had never seen the movie as he admitted later.
As far as taunting: you are going to lose, loser.
8.31.2004
We really are living in frightening times now. Surrounded by liars, psychopaths, and evil people in it for the money.
I can't help to wonder what the hell is really going on? How will history reflect on the turn of this century? Will the label CWII stick?
[new toy]
I mean, we won the Olympics, right? So, there's some good for US sure.
We still have TeeVee and microwave popcorn...we're fatter and lazier than ever. Using up all the oxygen and oil.
Pinch me so I can wake up to my miserably wonderful life.
I can't help to wonder what the hell is really going on? How will history reflect on the turn of this century? Will the label CWII stick?
[new toy]
I mean, we won the Olympics, right? So, there's some good for US sure.
We still have TeeVee and microwave popcorn...we're fatter and lazier than ever. Using up all the oxygen and oil.
Pinch me so I can wake up to my miserably wonderful life.
8.03.2004
The New York Times reports that not only was "much of the information that led the authorities to raise the terror alert at several large financial institutions ... three or four years old," intelligence and law enforcement officials "reported that they had not yet found concrete evidence that a terror plot or preparatory surveillance operations were still under way."
Anyone consider this yet: So, if it's 3-4 years old, the information is probably about the World Trade Center, you know, September 11...2001. Doh!
They're marching all over town with guns and body armour for what again? Oh, to drown out any John Kerry news. Clever, I suppose. But, pretty damn insulting.
Anyone consider this yet: So, if it's 3-4 years old, the information is probably about the World Trade Center, you know, September 11...2001. Doh!
They're marching all over town with guns and body armour for what again? Oh, to drown out any John Kerry news. Clever, I suppose. But, pretty damn insulting.
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