A musical retrospective (also known as Rant #1)

Quick disclaimer: I am using "classical" here as a generic term for most music before the early 1900's, before the advent of jazz. Before you get yourself all in a tizzy over how classical refers to a specific period of European musical history, just keep in mind that I am using this to refer to not only classical, but a wide range of early types of music, as well as most contemporary instrumentals. Also, I am using "contemporary" to list most all other types of music including, but not limited to, jazz, blues, rock (and all it's variations), reggae, and even big band. Also keep in mind that this is my personal music opinion, which I generally am very passionate about, but even if it sounds like it, I do not look down on anybody for listening to any kind of music. Even the ones I'm dissing in this post. Just because I support other people listening to it though, doesn't mean that I have to like it myself.

I understand the appeal of classical music. I get how beautiful it is, how masterfully it is constructed. I get the dramatic dynamics, and the inter-weaving of each individual piece as it creates the great tapestry that is a classical composition. I get what in it appeals to people, but it just doesn't appeal to me.

To me, classical music is good. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate it. Like I've said, I understand that it is good, I like it, but if I were to choose among some of the most brilliant writers of music of all time, my selections would come more from the likes of Lou Reed (pre-solo career), Black Francis, and Bob Dylan, rather than Vivaldi or Bach. To me, these people are far greater musicians than Beethoven or any of his elite club of genius musicians. What always bothered me about classical music is the lack of what, to me, makes music music; feeling. Every time that a symphony (or other fitting musical group) plays one of these pieces it sounds exactly the same as every other time they've played it, as well as every other time that somebody else has played it (save for errors and improvements, or differences in instrumentation). Every trill is precisely where it is supposed to be, every lead voice (not literal, but including instrument "voice") hits just the right notes that are lined up before him (or her) on the sheet music; every single person who has ever heard anybody perform that particular pieces knows exactly what to expect. Sure, some performances may be more masterful than others, but besides this small difference in skill, each is identical. If you hear a live performance of a more modern band, however, every single time a new band plays it it is unique. Some may argue that this is because it takes less technical skill, and therefor is worse, but I think it's these imperfections that make it all the more meaningful. Music is supposed to hit you where nothing else can; it's supposed to express emotions or ideas that the words alone cannot; it is meant to be individualized. To me, classical music never accomplished that individualism. Of course, keep in mind that this is my opinion, and I'm not going to judge other people for liking classical music, like it seems many classical-listeners do. As I said, music is about individuality, and if classical music moves you, then I'm all for it. I've got no beef against any music; just the mindset of people who listen to a lot of it, which brings me into my next topic.

I have never really got the mindset of "classical music is intelligent, contemporary music is not". I do understand that a great deal of contemporary music is not intelligent at all- in fact, a good majority of it is the exact same crap, re-mixed and sent out again- but take into consideration that the classical music we hear is the best of what existed. Only really the most innovative of each time period got carried on to the next. Time has weeded out all the pieces of crap that were around at that time, just as people a few hundred years from now will never hear the Good Charlotte or any one of the Metal-by-numbers bands, just the Pixies and Red Hot Chili Peppers and the likes, because nobody carries on unoriginal. Their music wasn't brilliant. It had shining stars, that carried on, just as will happen with our music today. I don't consider myself any less intelligent because the sound of Billy Corgan's voice moves me more than that of a piccolo.

My Visual DNA

Here's what makes me tick; a visual representation of my concept of what matters.

Shit.

My mother just said "Fuck you" to me. That's a first.

Even a thought, even a possibility, can shatter us and transform us.

Friedrich Nietzsche

A Very Bland Post About a Very Bland Subject

There is a distinct and thorough lack of emotion running through my veins these days. I find as the weeks go by, I begin to care less and less about what's going on immediately around me. I don't quite understand why either.

In just a few months I will barely be seeing my mother at all. It drives me nuts that we have to spend almost all of our time now fighting. It absolutely pisses me off, and that fuels my "back-talking" to her. I'm just getting so sick and tired of fighting constantly. Lately I've been overly snappy to her. I just don't really care anymore. I understand that I should, and me acting the way that I do is not at all the way I should act, but I just can't help it. I don't care at the time, so I just spout off. I hate that this is what I'm becoming, but I feel so out of control.

I don't think the problem really is that I don't care though. I think that I'm just so over-burdened with stress and shit that I can't cope, so I'm just shutting down. I can feel that I'm on the brink of snapping, of just having an intense nervous breakdown, yet at the moment I don't feel much. I kind of feel like I might be pretty severely depressed too. I'm not sure though. At this moment in time there's mostly just a bland melancholia.

An Interview of One Lucious Ash

This one's courtesy of my love, Izzy, who I'm not allowed to link here but I definitely would if I could.

First, a few quick notes:

1. I'm sorry Izzy, for taking so long to answer
2. Yes, I write an excessive amount for everything, but you can get over it because IT'S MY GODDAMN BLOG!
3. Occasionally I snap, and I apologize to anybody who was offended by quick note #2

1) What's the most awkward situation you've ever been in with a family member?

Awkward? I never realized how awkward that word was...

When contemplating on how to answer this question, at first I thought, "I have nothing akwa-" but that's about as far as I got until I remembered... *shudders*

First, a little blue-print summary of my house: I have a northward facing door (I'm not sure what that does to the fung shui). When you walk into my front door, you are immediately in my dining room. To the left is my kitchen. To the right; my front room/living room. If you continue straight, from my door, there is a hallway. The entrance to this hallway lies a little right of center from my house. My room is a quick right-turn from this entrance, and down the hallway in the other direction, on your right-hand side, is my sister's room, my parents' room, and then, at the end of the hallway, the bathroom.

It was one fateful morning when this most odious of events occurred. I woke up, just like any other morning, save for it being a little earlier than usual. The reason for this early-bird-behavior happened to be a need for urination, so I was quite speedy in my efforts to reach my bathroom. I climb down the stairs from my bed (I have a sort of loft-bed), then head for my door. As my hand touches the door knob, I can hear the sounds of footsteps coming down the hallway towards me. As I swing the door open I feel an immediate sense of regret for my 2 liter of 7*up the previous night, as I see my father walking straight at me, fully naked.

I don't think that either of us ever mentioned it. It was while I was still very young, so he probably assumes I don't remember. He is very wrong.

2) You found a genie, but it was a motivational speaker in a past life and refuses to consider requests for petty things like money or several-thousand-dollar guitars. So what are three wishes for your future?

What about a free college education? Does that count? I mean, basically it's money, but technically it's asking for a chance to succeed. Motivational speakers love that shit. Yeah, that counts. WISH NUMBER ONE!

Wish number two: A chance to go back in time (ironic, going back in time for the future) to get an earlier start on college stuff. As it stands, I have $0 from scholarships, and I haven't filled out hardly any.

Wish number three: I would wish that Izzy could stop worrying about stuff so much, and not feel guilty for everything.

3) Other than E.T., what illogical and ridiculous things are you afraid of? (I'm afraid of closed shower curtains and microwave ovens that are currently operating.)

Damn. That would have been the one I said. I'm afraid of the shower curtain thing too. You took all my good ones! umm... *thinks hard* I am afraid of nothing. Nah, I'm just kidding. I guess the thing I'm most afraid of is people hating me if I were to talk to them, which is ridiculous/illogical because the chances of somebody hating me just for talking is ≤ no chance at all.

4) Okay. You're a completely retarded superhero. But which one? Like...Morbidly-Obese-yet-Healthy Man, or Can't-Untie-Her-Shoes Woman! How would that superpower help you fight crime, or whatever it is superheros do. Get in the front of the line at Disneyland, maybe.

I would be Instantly-Grow-A-ZZ-Top-Beard-Man. This beard would serve a number of purposes, all of which would be very handy to be able to call upon instantly. (Please note, while not all of these directly relate to my ability to fight crime, lookin' good is a priority for every superhero, and thus, if I did not look good, my superhero-ing abilities would be impaired)

1. It would make me look ultra-sexy, although I'm not sure how much of an improvement that would be on my current status.
2. I could easily, and instantly, disguise myself in the event that a super-villain were to come after me. When he found me, he would merely think me to be either of the ZZ Top members, and would pass me by with only a short request for my autograph.
3. I could use it as a bib, and then just shave it off after my meal. (You know you'd want that power)
4. If I awoke one morning to find that I had an enormous zit on my face, and I had a very important meeting that day, I could just cover it up.
   
5. If I awoke one morning to realize that my long years of partying and promiscuous sex had left me with a raging herpes problem, I could just cover it up.
6. Bullet deflection. Have you seen how luscious those things are?
7. To protect my chest from rain, in the event that I am caught in a sudden rainstorm without an ascot.
8. In case I were to lost a button off of my shirt, I could just grow out my beard, and no one would ever know.
9. Extra storage room in a pinch.
10. A carrier for the occasional injured woodland creature I might pick up.
11. And finally; *dinner roll, please* That massive of an amount of hair growing in an instant, has got to have some massive force as well. Great self defense in case Nympho-Woman tries to get a piece of this *gesticulates in a manner to show off entire body*.
    

5) If you could see any musician/band/musical act, past or present, alive or dead, which one would it be?

Blue Man Group, hands down. They put on an absolutely fantastic show. The music is great, the visuals are great, and conceptually they are superb. They use alternative instrumentation, and I absolutely love the dynamics between them.

An Account of one Very Unhappy Dream

Why is this the first dream that I can remember in the past year or so?


Me, my mother, my father, and my sister are all in a car on a road trip. We're driving along some old highway through some mildly hill-y terrain, much like that in Idaho, for a couple hours, just enjoying the view. The entire time we sit in complete silence.

We finally get somewhere. It's a fantastic view; an impressively tall, yet surprisingly low-energy waterfall sits above a beautiful lake, spewing out its water to the placid surface below. We get out and just relax for a little bit, then change into our bathing suits.

After we're all changed, we go up onto the river that is feeding the waterfall, and splash around for a bit, when suddenly we realize we have slid down to the mouth of the waterfall. We stop for a short time, just sitting at the edge, water rushing all around us. From our viewpoint we can see the rolling hills for miles and miles around, and then some craggy mountains off in the distance. My mother is sitting near the middle of the waterfall, with me on her left side and my sister on the right. We're preparing to jump. I look over at my mother.

"If we jump, we probably will die," she tells us, rather emotionless.

I say, with a look of determination in my eye, "Well, we'll see. I'll see you on the other side."

"Really?" She says to me in a manner obviously doubting my intention to jump.

We then start talking about something else and lose track. We sit, just enjoying all that is around us, and the good company. Then, out of the blue, my mother vaults herself off of the cliff. She lands in the water head first, her body in kind of an "L" shape. She hits the water, and floats, face-down for a moment, still in her position, and then rolls over onto her back, obviously dead. Her eyes are cold and motionless. Her body stiff and unyielding.

Me and my sister sit there for a moment, in shock. I remember a distinct lack of emotion. There is a slight something tugging at our hearts, but nothing enough to stir us.

Then we're in the car, driving. All of us, now down to me, my father, and my sister, sit in silence, just as we did on the ride there; except now the silencing factor is something much different than the view of the countryside.

My cellphone rings, then it hangs up. For a split second, I expect it to be my mother; I even check my call history to see. I see my mother's name attached to one of the incoming call's numbers, and I get excited for just a moment at the prospect of it all having been a terrible mistake. Maybe we just left her there, right? But then I realize that the number I had seen was two down from the top, a call from yesterday.


What gets to me about this whole thing is how calm everyone was the whole time. We all seemed to kind of understand. We were shocked, but we kind of just understood. She knew she was going to jump when she did. She wanted to be free; liberated.

Me and my mother have been having difficulties getting along for quite some time now. Just the typical kind of teenage/mother rift-forming from me wanting independence in my life, and her still trying to help me succeed. I'm having a really hard time at that whole succeeding thing lately. It kills her, I know, and she thinks that I believe it's all her fault I'm not succeeding. There's a terrible amount of issues between us right now, too many to explain in this post at least, but that's the gist of it. I haven't been handling it well, and she really hasn't either.

She is usually (meaning when we are not fighting, which seems to be most of the time now) happy, but lately I fear, not actively or probably logically, that she might be having problems that none of us are seeing. After that dream, I really began to fear that she could be struggling with something that none out of the lot of us know. Was this a premonition dream? I sure hope not, but it was giving me chills all morning. Every time I thought about my mother, or somebody even mentioned the word "mother", I felt instantly terrified. My heart rate sped up, and my mind froze in a panic. I, for those moments, felt terror like I have never felt before in my life. I had to remind myself that it was just a dream, and then it went away; but still the sentiment lingered.

Is it maybe symbolic of our drifting apart? Like she's becoming lost to me? I feel it's more of this, but then again, that tiny little part of our brains that whisper fears into our conscious keeps telling me that she's going to die. This is not a happy thought.

Spring Break; Abridged.

Oh thank Jesus almighty, school has started back up again.

I have never been so happy in my entire life to go back to that damned place. Okay, okay, so it's not that bad, but it's sure as hell bad enough to need a break from. This time, however, the break did not treat me well. Okay, so overall it wasn't that terrible, but there was quite a bit to make me want social contact again.

It started off absolutely perfectly. On that Saturday, I got to see Izzy. We did the beach clean-up here on one of the local beaches. Her father drove her over, and it was a day filled with happiness and volunteer-work. We talked, and goofed around. We wrestled on the grass. I bit her ass. There was much nipple biting. Good times. Then we went over to Dairy Queen and picked up a burger. There was a slight mishap with shitty service, but that smoothed over as soon as I got my damned Butterfinger Blizzard I ordered. Then we chilled at my house for a bit. A splendid day, really.

The next few days went fantastically (although not as good as my weekend). Doin' nothing, except getting a couple job applications and such. Mostly just chillin', web surfin', TV watchin', and all those other lazy activities that so fittingly can be made lazier with an "in'" at the end. Times were good. Life was good. But then the first blow came.

On Thursday I was supposed to head over to Izzy's hometown (as shall be called "Scratching Beans" here) to get me some meningitis vaccination (we're "poor", and didn't have anyone around here that would give them out cheap enough to afford right now, and Scratching Beans was one of the closest we could find), so I figured that I'd invite her to come with use. We could hang out for a while beforehand, and then chill afterwards, maybe get some dinner with my family, and everyone would be happy. She would even get to see me in intense physical pain (I am terrified of needles. Not so much the needles, but I hate the feeling of whatever they're injecting going into you. It gives me the heebies). It would be fun for all, but nope. Not going to happen. Her mother approved, then vetoed her ability to go. Dammers... I guess I'll just spend a day in intense physical arm pain, and Izzy-less to boot. I did get to see her for a little bit though. She had some library books to return (they were due one of the days she was gone), so she got out of the house and I walked to the library to see her. As it turned out, the trip wasn't that terrible. We ended up taking a mini-road trip, which was fun. It was me, my mother, my father, my sister, and my sister's friend (who will here be called Baffolo). We just kind of drove off and ended up quite a ways away, then turned around and came home.

Come Friday I had yet another day to relax. Sounds good right? Wrong. My Izzy was gone (described here), and the sinking realization that I got absolutely nothing done my entire break sinks in. I was supposed to get a job. I failed, so now I have to do 2 hours of work everyday (2.5 on the weekends) without pay, until I find a job. This of course leaves me absolutely no time to find a job, so I'm kind of stuck there. In addition to this horrid realization, I also found out that I cannot find a single scholarship I'm eligible for that hasn't already passed. AND I hadn't sold a single candy bar for my physics class. I still have about 80 left, that I was supposed to have sold by tomorrow, but still haven't sold. And, to top it all off, I got a letter telling me that I did not make it into Reed (my dream college, although I did get on the waiting list).

The next day I had to work. We ended up working for about seven hours. I got $50 though, so I can't really complain about that. The job wasn't that hard either; I was carrying wood from trees that had been cut down and removing gorse. Damn I hate that stuff. I got to use a pick-y thing though, which was fun. I found a golf ball and ended up spending about a half an hour or more trying to crack it open. I failed, of course. A wet ball is hard to hit with a narrow wedge of equally wet metal.

Sunday was the road trip. Our road trips are always good. We don't plan, planning is for losers. Instead, we just pick a direction and drive. Then we drive back. Fun right? This one was a good one; we drove to Florence and spent all day looking through antique shops. I love those things. I ended up finding an old Minute 16 pocket camera and a Kodak Duaflex III, both from the mid-'50s, as well as a "Flash Master" and a sweet old lighter. As you can probably guess, I collect antique cameras. 's fun stuff.

So there it is; my spring break, quick 'n dirty. Well, the spring break wasn't, unfortunately, but the description was. I hope yours was more interesting than mine was, and I bid thee a good evening.