Jeez it was coming out of me today. We'll see if we can keep up that level of flow for the poor lil blog. Prolly not, it's not quite as intense but I'll summarize, maybe link for a very short time.
Lots to say, lots to say. My touch typing is threatening to come back, too long since I've been a manager, carpal tunnel here we come. Anyway, blessing and a curse. Greater output, pain.
Today's song snippet is from a ghost story. First, why am I instituting song snippets? Multiple reasons. I'm studying others' work that I find worthwhile, and my own output is slowing (although I may occasionally snip my own work, silly since it's already here). For similar reasons. Every song I write is better than the last. That makes it harder and harder to finish them. I am listening to things that I think are equally masterful for inspiration, relaxation and a reminder that I can get better. What do I find worthwhile? For example, all John Cale, very little Lou Reed. Some Rob Zombie, no Marilyn Manson that I have heard yet. Anything with Marta Sebastyen on it, very little Zanfir. Why? How do these aesthetics work? I am gratified anyone cares. The creative spark is what matters. Cale is always doing something new and different that expresses his heart, whether it's listenable or not ('Stainless Gamelan' anyone?) while Lou Reed is mostly commercially inclined ('Metal Machine Music' and such excepted, and 'Magic and Loss' has enough heart and craft that I have to listen). Rob Zombie innovated a whole new metal/death genre. Marilyn Manson is a pale shadow (while it touches my skin and I'm happy enough playing to it, it doesn't really excite me). Marta Sebastyen is a Hungarian traditionalist who talks to her audience (I was spoiled by her talking to me, I suppose), Zanfir is a pop star who has masticated eastern european tunes into pablum for the masses. Enough effete snobbishness? I like true innovation, madness and traditional sensibilities. I'm trying to work with those materials.
So, why a ghost story? I am thinking about death, going through the death of a relationship that was serious enough to have touched on the possibility of new life. It would not be unfair to say that I am obsessed with death (temporary link here). I'll review things said elsewhere on this site. My mother tried to kill herself as her chronic degenerative disease pulled her down. My best friend in high school died on his motorcycle. The singer of one of my bands was murdered. My maternal grandparents followed one another quickly off this mortal coil, showing me about deep codependence (they did not seem close; yet when my paternal grandfather passed on his wife hung on, still does, and they were much, much closer). My brother was murdered. And I have my own strange attractions to deal with.
My best friend in grade school and I chased ghosts. We found them. We summoned demons. Maybe that's my problem? I'm pretty sure this is just how life works. Death holds no fear when you really understand its inevitability and importance. And the mind creates what it wants. What ghosts, what demons? Iraq crawls with ghosts and demons today. And here I sit in NYC. Haunted.
Autoblogical data for the day. Strawberries for breakfast, lemon chicken and rice that I made last week reheated for lunch, caeser salad for dinner. Mondays and Wednesday's I work out. I try for Fridays, but perhaps you've already noticed my drinking habits. Mondays are rep days, three sets of a specific number of reps (increasing slowly as time passes). Wednesdays are stress days, one set of as many reps as I can do. They both suck. I don't enjoy it much but I am actually addicted. Aren't endorphins fun?