Thursday, April 29, 2010

Walt; the learn'd astronomer

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer; 
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; 
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; 
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, 
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;         5
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself, 
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, 
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

It's when I see something like this, or hear about something like this, that my firm belief of never being
a scientist of some sort really takes it's hold. I confine myself in the safe learnings of whatever whatever
so I can maybe some day have a stable income for a family. Something like that. Little fence. Little feet.
Painted yard. Painted house. Little house. Little neighborhood. Little dreams. It's like you watch it from
afar when you think about these things. It's not something I necessarily want to settle for, but it wouldn't
be so bad. Still, I'd like to keep the aspiration of being an active family man at least on the back burner
so I have some inkling of believing I'll be a musician some day.

I've grinded away at this for years. Honing my talents, spreading my name, keeping up a facade per say so that some day my reach might extend into the echelons of the stars. Fame doesn't even matter at this point. I know it sounds radical, but all I want is a shitty apartment and a band who'll play for me. This is all I want, yet it's too much to ask.

I spend hours a day looking for new music to listen to, looking for something new and exciting to worship with my ears. It's the buzzing and the static of new music that frustrates me most. I just want to get out there, I want to hear my own music, plastered across the lobes of youth and old alike. It's all I want to do. My piece will play a part in this. I will not be forgotten that easily. I don't want to be talked about in the past tense anymore. It's all these quotes and phrases that I steal from others that embody exactly how I feel.

Here I go whining about the same thing again, two blogs in a row, I'm on a roll. I think it's this city that does it to me. The wasting away music scene. The dying demographic. The wasted talent. The apathy the apathy the apathy. No one gives a fuck anymore. Everyone can feel free to show your support, yet you can't come to the shows anymore. It's too much for you to do to go see a band who doesn't have one of your personal friends in it. It's too too too much, but maybe it's our own greed causing this. Maybe we have to reach out a little bit further. Maybe that's all we have to do to get the ears of the greedy to listen, and relent.

Maybe that's what I'll do. I'll start so humble I'm barely alive musically. I'll hand out CDs, won't ask any price at all. Make capital investments. It's all I want, is to be heard. I could care less about the support right now, or the financial out put. Maybe I can just throw my music and people and hope a few of them catch on, a few of them enjoy it just enough to listen again.

Anyway, I'm sure I'm burning ears off at this point.


Sunday, April 25, 2010

"What are you doing next semester?"...

"I'm taking computer science, with a minor in pure math."

"What are you gonna do with that?"

"Probably try for a double major if I can, go to grad school for my master's in math. They pay good at google and IBM for people like that."

"As long as you're doing something that makes you happy."


Sometimes, we just wait for something to come to us. Sometimes we sit and sit and wait. We just make up little excuses, build bridges, take the other way around. I've never been good at taking risks. Sometimes we sit and and we sit and we watch. Sometimes we let other people act out the risks we'd love to take ourselves so that we can become satisfied by association. It's like watching some one fuck the celebrity you've always had a crush on. The primal grunts and thrusts, that would be you, if you had it your way, but you still get off knowing it happened at all. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we wait.

We make up excuses and never do exactly what it is we want to do because there's only the radicalists telling us we should do that. Sometimes I don't bother to spell check, because I like to think it makes me seem more "pure" in my words. Sometimes we sit and we sit and call people stupid. Then they do something, and they mess up and sometimes they sit and they sit but then they get up and try again.

"If I could take that fifty thousand dollars I'm going to invest in university, and put it into touring with a band, I think I would be a lot happier, even if I didn't make it."

"But when you've got your education, you can fall back on something. Let that debt sit there, nothing's going to happen to it."

"But that's not how the natural progression goes. You learn, and you go to school, and then you work for the rest of your life."

"Just get an education."

Sometimes we listen and we listen and we don't hear anything at all. We don't hear the few people telling us to fucking do something. They're screaming in our bleeding ears to do what you love to do, and all we can do is listen to the cut that you were forced from on that day you celebrate every year. They know best best best. They know best best best. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we fucking keel over and die. Eighty years later. This is after you get to work, and contribute to a dying economy, and be proud of what you did while you're sitting in front of your nine hundred inch LCD screen. This is you sitting.

Oh god, the excuses. No one wants to hear my music. I don't have the time. I don't have the money. I don't have the talent. I don't have the connections. I don't have the scene. I don't I don't I don't. I sit and sometimes I sit and I sit and I wait. Nothing is EVER going to come out of me just doing nothing but for some reason that's all I do.

My aspirations are as follows.

-> go to school

-> Work for the rest of my life

This is all I seem to have any motivation to do. And you couldn't even call it that. There's no room in there for dreams. I think I just have to face it. Face the music. Curtain's closing. My dreams would've started and ended if I'd only taken a risk. A risk I should've taken in the youthful momentum provided by graduation.

This is the gratification you get from sitting and sitting and enjoying your favorite bands more than anyone else, because they're famous, and because everyone loves them like you want to.

You work and you work and you go to school and you work and you work and the world keeps turning. This what you do when you grow up. I can now consider myself an adult, because I have come about the realization that dreams don't exist anymore because I can't stop sitting.


Saturday, April 10, 2010

Will do calculus for entertainment: