I am Done.

I made this song depicting a certain thought process. This process is one of uncertainty, roughness, and the adhd that seems to plague my generation, in some desperate attempt to create something beautiful, out of limited, disjointed, resources. Many more works like this are in the making, with better production quality, as I'm still pretty much learning as I go. The point of my music project is to illustrate the process of becoming an artist to not others, but for yourself. My project is to show how a soul stuck on the pale blue dot in this universe attempts to connect to the Natural Law of things, if it were to exist. My project is a prolonged leap of faith-- and this song attempts to show that in the rawest form possible.

A Recent Nightmare

Hey guys, I need to get this particular nightmare down, partly for my records, and partly because I want to know what you think about it, I'd appreciate another party's opinion. I only remember a few parts (obviously) two mostly, because of how disturbing they are. My internal state leading up to this nightmare has been surprisingly balanced, after working with Jed McKenna's material I am proceeding to question everything I've thought and believe up to this point, and making sure not to build any long lasting "replacements." This lead to existential despair as expected, and for the past few days I've been surprisingly clear. Meditation has become vastly deeper, I'm understanding what "not taking yourself seriously" really means, and I'm actually half-way enjoying my day. Currently I'm getting into Kenneth Grant's material with new eyes, and musically exploring Genesis P- Orridge's "Throbbing Gristle".

1. The main characters are me and another person I only know travels with me in dreams, there's no physical counter-part, but he's a consistent presence in adventures like these. We are a part of some organization (or cult) that focuses on somehow disrupting society, through chaotic and destructive means, headed by a strong white male, bald, and unusually large (but not fat). From what I remember, I believe out core philosophy was some offshoot of nihilism, combined with a small influence of eastern mysticism (Think Tyler Durden's movement). Through a series of circumstances, we failed a big project and we were to regroup at "headquarters", which was just a small store-front. I was new to the group, but my companion wasn't, and he told me nervously that our leader was going to kill them all, sharing with me a vivid memory of the words he says before the massacre-- "This has happened before". I can say that during this part of the journey I'm feeling completely indifferent and lucid, and there's no worry in me at all.

We, a group of about 50-60 people sit silently before our leader in satsang like fashion. He sat on a flat pillow cross-legged, and calmly began to speak beautifully and softly. He spoke about the recent report, our philosophy (boy I wish I could remember that bit!), and the talk goes on for some time. I actually begin to get bored, thinking my companion was exaggerating, and start to daydream. I look outside the store-front windows into the daylight, enjoying the sun's rays bursting out of the clouds after a quick rain. Then, my heart sinks and I snap my attention back to our leader-- his energy has completely changed, his subject matter has taken a very dark turn into near megalomaniacal self-pity, and he begins to repeat the very same words my companion had shared with me.

It was at this point my peaceful indifference was transformed into primordial fear. I wasn't afraid per-say of the leader, it seemed as though he emanated fear itself, reaching out and infecting everyone else's aura, effectively freezing us all against our will. This kind of fear is beyond the fight or flight reaction, this was a fear deeper than any fear of death I've ever had-- it was an alien fear that was beyond words. I look over to my companion to see his face contorted into morbid anticipation and anxiety, shaking slowly with tears streaking down his face-- nobody else seems to know what the future held for them. I begin to plan our escape, and when. The leader turns to dangerous depression, to perverse fantasy, and finally murderous intention, after screaming his hate for MAYA (illusion).

"I hate this... I hate this world, I hate the MAYAAAA, and I hate you! I hate you all!!," was his final statement before all hell breaks loose.

I immediately started elbowing the windows as hard as could... I know this was a dream, but the screams I heard surrounding me, to hear his howls of monstrosity in concert with the sounds of the tearing of flesh and bone and stuck in my head. I know death at least was eminent, but I wanted to at least to try to save me and my companion. At the last possible second the windows shattered and we jump out into the fresh air-- it's raining again. I thought that maybe this monster would be too busy with the others to worry about us, but when we were halfway down the block we hear the scrapping of glass behind us, witnessing his figure hunched over like some kind of beast in pursuit, sprinting towards us. Within seconds he's at our backs, so we separate, me heading into a parking lot filled with cars. I could hear him mocking me saying, "They always go for the cars, don't they?" This is where my memory gets fuzzy, but suffice it to say I somehow leap from the frying pan into the fire.

2. Though some desperate means of stealth I end up in a house I've never seen before, and witness a shocking sight: the beast is tied to a chair with bruises all over him like something worse has caught him, and now I was caught as well. The beast says somewhat resigned and embarrassed "She's coming, there's no chance" and a greater fear (if that's even possible)
washes over me, and it was at this point I reveled in the reality of my end. The woman, black, stunningly beautiful, and also with an air of ancient age enters the room, and greets my former leader cheerfully. I get the impression that these two knew each other quite well, and she was obviously pleased to have finally caught him-- as if a bigger drama was at play. The beast though obviously defeated spoke quickly and charismatically, even making her laugh until she turned her attention to me. She speaks to me seductively and rubbed her body slowly against mine, I was compelled to sit on the couch as she joined me speaking dark nothings into my ear. She produced a black cylinder outlined with red and handed it to me-- I found it peculiar that my body certainly was not mine at that point. She change the subject and begins to explain with morbid pleasure how the item she handed to me would kill me in about 30 seconds.

"The loss of eyesight at 2 seconds, the loss of the lungs at 5, hearing at 20 etc." culminating in a horrible death towards the end. After her explanation, she leaves the room. For some reason I don't die, and my condition began to improve, all the while the beast speaking to me about his process, the only thing I remember from this conversation is some "will to sociopathy" philosophy, and this woman was it's creator, and not entirely human. She returns to the room paying me no mind and continues her conversation with the beast-- perhaps I'm already dead?

Thanks for reading! What do you think? Frankly the symbolism is strong, but can't make much sense of it.

War of the Selves.

The point of this blog is to document my creative/spiritual process, and subsequent struggles. Hopefully for whoever reads this, you can draw inspiration and learn how NOT to go about things-- I bump my head quite a few times.

Recently (like 10 minutes ago), I figured out why the hell I can't make any music. I had a creative renaissance about a month ago, and now I'm staring at my electric violin gathering dust. Earlier today, I fired up my recording program, turned on the amp, and promptly threw everything down in utter disgust. I was shocked by my own reaction to not doing what I truly believe in-- it's a bit of sacrilege. So, for lack of weed or alcohol, I proceeded to pace back and forth for nearly 2 hours, I actually came to some conclusions.

My mental love-making actually began last night-- I decided to try out a certain brain-wave entrainment program. Apparently, by utilizing binaural beats and hypnotism, it's supposed to lead you to Self-Discovery. The science and effects of sounds have always been fascinating to me, so I thought it'd be worth a try. Besides, I'm pretty susceptible to hypnotism and trip out pretty easily (like, full visuals on weed), so I figured I could get something really powerful out of this program.

TRIP REPORT.

 After going through the motions, I find myself in an entirely different world. I'm aware of my body lying down on the bed, but my mind is somewhere completely else. The sky was grey, horizon against the darker waves of a turbulent ocean. The beach was bland, wet sand that left no footprints, and my only company was the disembodied voice of the narrator. At some point after reaching a certain level of "entrainment", he allowed me to explore this strange world. I climbed the black jagged rocks outlining the never ending beach easily, and witness a vast field of grass flowing peacefully to some imaginary wind.  My world is devoid of any vibrant colors, all I saw were all kinds of shades of grey-- I figure this is how I view my every day reality, and take note. Shortly, I realize what this world actually was, it felt so familiar. This is the world I created in the isolation of my early childhood-- I named this world Atar. In the old days, I would fabricate many stories and events on Atar... I created the universal council of Elders I dubbed the "Grandmasters" that oversaw the events of a family I imagined, and they had plenty of transcendent adventures culminating in the ascendancy of my main character.

I found my old world completely intact as if I never left it. The only difference was the field was shimmering gold swaying grass with a blue sky. Later on in my walk, I see a familiar tree with a notch in it's truck, and I decided to take a rest and acclimate to things. The tree is actually a tree in real life. As a child I pissed on it because my friends decided to piss outside, and I got in big trouble for it. I can still remember my mother's shrill voice promptly magnify my wrongdoing and place dark judgement on my character (as a seven year old), and I realized that this definition stuck with me in a powerful way. Personally, if I ever do something wrong (because I'm human), I magnify the error by 10, and no thanks to my heavy Christian upbringing, promptly fling myself into some existential hell to the resonance to my Mother's cadence.

I move on. The trip is nearly over, and I come across an old ruined structure reminiscent Stonehenge. I created this structure as a child for some reason, it's significance is still lost to me. In the dead middle, I witnessed a giant orb sphere rotating silently, I approach, then BAM. The narrator counted down and I was back in my body.


THE REALIZATION FOR TODAY.

After my analysis of the significance of the tree, a further insight occurred to me. The problem isn't that I'm lazy,whiny, or not motivated enough. It has to do with the perception of myself and what I think I deserve. Also, the problem isn't with me, but my environment. In my creative process, it takes a certain amount of emotional involvement, and an undetermined amount of time to allow for the inspiration, practice, and recording process to run it's course. The problem is in my environment, other priorities out of my control demand that emotional energy (or attention), leaving none for my personal pursuit. This takes further investigation.

So if I could say one thing to you lovelies, aspiring artists like me, is that most likely, there's nothing wrong with you at your core. The problem is where your energy is going-- and this doesn't include normal everyday distractions. It has to do with what you think is out of your control that you MUST pay attention to, but would rather not. Pinpointing these factors and observing their roots I theorize will give you a good idea where you fit in to your personal story line.

Screaming into Shadows. What does it mean?

Imagine, surrounded by a thick, dark, wet, void--vibrating like an muted all encompassing heart beat: thunk... thunk, the hiss of loneliness pervasive all around you, and this reality is all you know. One moment, you see a glimmer in the distance and upon noticing this you hear at the bottom right of your head-- life. You have never heard a thing like this, and it fascinates you. It naturally becomes your sole obsession, and you spend countless moments looking at that faint star, your only company.

Another moment, your star vanishes, and in that one horrific instance, you understand how dismal your existence was, and now is again. You also understand pain, and heartbreak, both simultaneously, but you know not how to express it. The only word, the only cohesive sound you know, is life. You remember this. Maybe if you imitate this sound, the star will return, you now understand longing. You attempt to utter the sound, but it sounds nothing like what you heard. Endlessly, you try to emit the sound, but after learning what sustained failure is, you start to scream. Cathartic. 

Screaming into shadows! You feel the vibrating of your chest, the straining of your vocal chords-- with every choked utter a tear wells, a new wetness streaming down your face, and you imagine that if you never see your star again, at least you have the power to scream-- scream.