Friday, February 16, 2018

Nice Stuff, As of Late

Nice stuff has happened as of late. I suppose things are going well. I'm a relatively unknown motherfucker. I submitted something for the CU-Boulder something, I don't even remember what it was, but I submitted something as if I were a real storyteller. And, you know, I am a real storyteller, minus all that falsetto bullshit. I'm not gonna lie, the way people treat each other in our world is stupid. Silly stuff to talk about, you say, but really, we treat each other like fucking animals. The fake persona you put on every day for work. Doesn't it get to you? It certainly gets to me. And so that's the moral of the story, if there is one. Don't talk about real shit with people, then you're bound to get strung out, fussy, etc. And if you talk about real shit with people, they'll be bound to get fussy. But that's okay. Cause the people who get fussy don't matter anyway.

I wish I were confident enough to say, hey, here I am, here is my real persona, or something of the like. I wish I were smart enough to say, hey, here's my diploma, etc. But I don't think diplomas matter worth a fuck. I wish I could walk into a job interview and say, hey, here I am, all of me. But I'm not all there, of course. And so they naturally start worrying (the interviewer). Was it something I said, they think. And consequently, they don't hire me. (These are all imagined scenarios). But still, it's gotta weigh on you to think all this shit on the daily. I used to not know how to pronounce "subsequently" until I read it in a couple of philosophy books, or maybe it was one professor who told me how it was really pronounced. Of course, that's a valuable skill, learning how to pronounce words, right? Not. But still, funny stuff happens on occasion and you've just gotta ride out the laughs until everybody gets off their high horse and starts getting depressed again in the middle of the conversation because they don't know how to interest themselves. I feel like a lull in most conversations means everybody is depressed. And that's normal. We've just gotta stop telling ourselves it is not normal.

I hope CU-Boulder honors me somehow, for being a tried-and-true soldier, or something. I don't know what they'd honor me for aside from the fact that I would like to say I submitted something to the Norlin Library whatever-the-fuck-it's-called contest. And so, maybe, they'll select my work, but I have a fucking feeling they won't. But that's alright, too. It really is.

I don't need recognition to survive.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

About Making a Song

I made a song with my friend last night. It was a good night. We went to a major retail coffee joint and got different beverages. Then we proceeded to his house, where music was to be made. All of this occurred after I schlepped my guitar amplifier down nine floors (luckily there was an elevator) and through a parking lot where my car was.

We began playing music. There were two songs we made. One was a bass melody my buddy had crafted on his own. The other was a guitar chord progression that I engineered on the spot. There was a feeling that we were creating something.

At one point, we decided to record a drum track. This was the most trying moment of the night because it's difficult to create a drum track when you don't have any drums. All we had to make our drum track was a piano. And the one we made ended up being pretty sweet. It was me playing the bass drum and a snare, and it was my friend who was playing the upper dynamic range of the hi-hats and lastly, the cowbell, which he intermittently put into the recording. It was a good addition.

My friend's friend came through the doorway. I thought it was an angry neighbor at first. We were playing at a high volume. It turned out to be someone else.

We capped the night off by finishing up our recordings of the first song, and then putting the preliminary elements together of the second song. It was a productive night.