funky riddims
Friday October 31st 2003, 9:22 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Links Tags:

the real academe (please stand up)
Wednesday October 29th 2003, 9:45 am
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Tuesday October 28th 2003, 2:45 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Creative Tags:

‘It doesn’t suck’, said one friend. ‘No offense, but this would make great, you know, video game music’. Reactions, I must say, are mixed. I wrote this, in about a week, about a year ago. Its influences are all too clear, alas, but I’m not particularly ashamed. I do, after all, work on derivative texts. And it’s coming time to (do forgive the loathsome pun) face the music. A year later, and I return to my own work, not to finish it (although some day I’d like to re-work it from start to end), but merely to say what I cannot find new words for.

what am i looking for today
some way to say i have to go away
what is it haunting me this way
will she hear me

waiting for the phone to ring i can’t even describe
living lies and breaking ties and fading far from the world’s sight
what is it i’ve left to give
what is it i can’t forgive
all these years with you.

why don’t you know
why can’t you know
all that we should have been
so near so far.

Off in the distance I don’t see
our hands entwined the way the way used to be
but is it truth or is it doubt
will she hear me

(for in this hell i write myself
(the shell of me fades from the world itself
(i cannot hear ; i cannot see
(no one needs me

[waiting for the phone to ring i’ve lost sight of the light
[bodies tangled bodies angled silence far from the world’s sight
[Hidden here behind the phone
[Hidden there, my only home
[How much can we hide?

edit: see that ‘angry’ thing above, in brown letters? That’s a link to the music for the lyrics sprawled across the page above. Lyrics, for those of you who thought I had suddenly compromised all of my politics and principles and started writing poetry.

i was looking back to see that i was looking back
Tuesday October 28th 2003, 10:52 am
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Mirrors, lines. Beginnings and endings. Walks in the fucking park. In that odd space where I feel compelled to write, yet ain’t got a whole fucking lot to say. So, the question remains: cryptic sentence fragments? Or substance? And does anyone really give a fuck?

Ah, my ever-odd relationship to an audience. You know what? Fuck audiences. Alas, life’s all too performative, even without a fucking audience. Shakespeare was only half right, really. y’all know what i mean, whether or not that’s ‘fake deep’. Ah, regression. But, freshly showered, I’m gonna put on my shades and headphones, and go strolling up through the incongruous sunlight to meet an old friend to talk about everything else in my life but. And all too common occurrence, I’m afraid.

walter the farting dog
Monday October 27th 2003, 9:43 pm
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Butt Hole Road
Saturday October 25th 2003, 9:33 am
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Friday October 24th 2003, 11:20 pm
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or, things fall apart. Seem to be heading somewhat inexorably down the road. Where will it end? Dunno, folks. But there you have it. I started, finally, looking into finding a room yesterday. It’s kind of like reading a ‘choose your identity’ novel. Is it going to be the $500 a month warehouse with musicians (and a full pro-tools rig?), or the $1200 room in the 1906 craftsman house in the Montclair hills with a 33 year-old lawyer and 69 year-old poet? Bizarre insight into other people’s lives. Or perhaps my own life. Well, I want some place where I can play my music…..but I want some place I can get my work done (err. thesis. remember that thing?). What I really want, I suppose, is to be rich and live alone again. Or at least be more gainfully employed than I am. Or at least to have a life that I can recognise as my own, again.

But, there you have it. Last time, living with two guys, didn’t go too badly, ending up with one friend and one creditor (whom, I’m sure all too many of you will be pleased to know, I eventually paid in full). I dunno. I need the change, badly, in both senses of the word.

I’ve been composing some on the piano, in the fragments of 15 minutes I have alone here. Incompletion is becoming, even more than before (god help me) my forte. All of which is to say, something’s got to give…

Tuesday October 21st 2003, 6:00 pm
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Lines in the sand still preoccupying me, to some extent. Ran into an old friend today, one I haven’t seen in a handful of years; we parted ways, he going his, me, obviously, mine. And after lunch with him, although thin on the reminiscing, as there was a third person there, ran into yet another old friend.

The long and the short of all of these old friends, well, they both seem to have this indelible image of me as 1) a slut, and 2) some sort of abusive asshole, leaving a mile-wide wake of permanently scarred women behind me. Now, I’m not going to protest utter innocence, but I would like, in my defense, to say that neither of these is wholly fair or true. What followed next was a list of some (rather surpising) names of old flings/partners/lovers/etc who had moved back to the Bay Area. Details available upon request, along with my resume…But the consensus was, as one friend put it, not that I couldn’t leave the sins of my past behind, but that I was the sins of my past…

Thank god neither of them know the sins of my present. Though I’m still trying to do something about that. Still drawing lines, still wondering how to flow with them.

Geek Flash
Monday October 20th 2003, 11:02 am
Filed under: TPT the First Work Tags:

Geek flash- Google for ‘ten point type’ or ‘tenpointtype’ and this blasted site shows up top. No wonder everybody’s so tweaked about blogs clogging Google rankings. Kinda (geekily) satisfying, tho…

Monday October 20th 2003, 10:41 am
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

Time, meaning, structure, direction, purpose, ambition, actuality. Yes, folks, it’s one of those days. Hazy on life, on where I’m trying to get to. A friend pointed out to me, just yesterday, that I keep drawing lines in the sand – “I’ll give it until December”, “If things aren’t sorted by February”, and pointed out, too, that a thousand of these lines have come and gone and I haven’t changed things up, really. And though I’ve tried and tried, I keep just drawing lines in the sand.

Not sure where I’m going with this. How much is the external affirmation question: it would all look different if I had a job/a flat/cash/a life… Wouldn’t it always look different somehow? Or is that faith in the unbelievable, the untenable. External confirmation, the oldest religion.

I’m blathering, sorry folks. To those who know, I’ve lapsed in my exit-strategies, as things get re-considered, yet again. Lines in the sand? Draw em or cross em?