Eat. Breathe. Play Music.
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From The Mind Of A Lover, A Thinker, A Dreamer, A Drinker.
Always be aware of something beautiful.
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I came across some abandoned vinyls on my walk into the city today. Of course I snagged them out of the gutter and made some art. Now they live on my wall.
I’ve done some editing, the distinctions are subtle yet greatly influential.
Revised Noise.
Oh, Joy.
One, Two, Tree, Four.
Fourteen layers, nine hours.
My latest paper creation showing input, output and processing in between. I’ve begun using cardstock, which is smaller in size but much stronger and durable. This makes for cleaner more precise cuts.
Now to make a mess of it.
Shout, shout… let it all out.
It is severely interesting that total commitment to an emotion, no matter how unpleasant, can make you feel so peaceful when you’re over it.
Go.
No more sad. No more mad. No more I can’t take this anymore. No more I can’t. No more I wont. No more caring what people think. No more censoring myself. No more no. No more soreness. No more tired. No more try. No more self loathing. No more Less drink. No more crying. No more pretending. No more wishing. No more missing. No more losing. No more bad. No more wrong. No more will not. No more “too” this or “too” that. No more maybe. No more if. No more ands. No more buts. No more broken. No more almost. No more sort of. No more I don’t Know No more contradictions. No more negative. No more evil. No more god. No more want. No more waste. No more sorrow. No more hate. No more lazy. No more haste. No more suppose to. No more fate. No more stalling. Go.
Delicious as it sounds.
About Me
Between starting my own website and this silly blog, facebook, twitter, myspace and other social spiderwebs, I’ve been typing up a lot of ‘About Me’ pages. For such a simple concept, saying a few lines about myself is really difficult to do without sounding pompous or self loathing. It seems the scale always tips one way or the other. And how much to tell. Who’s reading this? Fans? Possible business associates? My mom? Probably, which means everything must sound professional and not too shocking. I would like to tell people I’m a hyperactive-bipolar-manic-depressive who doesn’t get a lot of sleep. But that makes me sound weird. I want to tell people I hate myself for reasons I don’t understand and I’m not worthy of any praise for music or otherwise. But saying that will only make other people think it too. So, I guess I’ll lie. Say I’m a happy go-getter who just loves people and wants to hear all about your ex-boyfriends cat.
On top of all the bad stuff I want to say, it sounds just as odd to say the opposite. Any personal build up I lament comes off as narcissistic masturbation. Even saying something like ‘I’m really just a nice guy trying to make it in this crazy world’ sounds cliche and exactly what you’d expect to read in a bio. Ah, and there’s another spice in the recipe: expectations. What would you really want to read about? I could spit off silly facts about how long I’ve been playing music and where I grew up. Or, I can show you my demons. Keep you on your toes with something personal and off key. Express the mental obscurity and strain that makes me want to make art in the first place. And when I think about it, shouldn’t I just do all this “About Me” business through art? Why type up a stock paragraph when you can listen, look and really experience who I am?
So I kept it simple in text, literally who I am. Young male in California who makes art and music. Poof. Done. Clean. All the good stuff you’ll see in the posts. I figure if you’re actually involved enough to read through a post like this, you can handle the crazy.
Dia De Los Muertos (Revised) | Fight Silence, Make Noise
New music!
Beautiful | Fight Silence, Make Noise
Lovely bit of noise.
I people watch all the time but today something special happened. I’m fairly certain I saw two people fall in love. It’s a wonderful thing to see. Embarrassing of course for everyone involved, but that’s part of it and often hilarity ensues. They become enchanted as if taken over by a drug. Stumbling, fumbling, the brain releases endorphins, eyes dilate, skin temperature rises. Its like watching someone shoot morphine. Jealous of their euphoric state yet at the same time sorry that they are under such a spell. Anyway, this is what what I heard in my head, so I figured I’d share it with you. Enjoi.
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