superbia
ahh yes and it is indeed true.. it has been centuries since i have posted, or at least way more than any self-respecting perpetuant of internet madness. i read this article in 'fortune' magazine about how bloggers were a force to be reckoned with as far as influence and company rep, etc. go, and it said that at this point there is a new registry for a blog every 3 seconds. so my question is, where is all this thought going, who is reading it, and where are people finding the time and attention to devote to the virtual skyscrapers of words? is it something that we fascinate in and then move on from, is it something that is the true modern equivilant of the handwritten diary, to be cast aside and then learned from later, or is it just the healthy expulsion of feelings, better to be exorcised into a place where it might not even be seen all that much than bottled up within the person, only to explode in a self-destructive way later..?
my thing about it is that i best function where i can come out with my own truth. unabridged. unfiltered. one thing i am hesitant to admit about these things is that the second they go public, the whole process of diary-writing changes. whether you consciously contemplate it or not, the second you begin writing for an audience, the second the very thing that you write begins to be affected by that audience. you begin to sense who it is on the other end, and then that effects how and what you put there. one thing i have learned to revel in about myself is that i can be chameleon-like. i can relate to one type of person very differently than i can relate to another. and what i value most about my individual relationships is the fact that i can address each and every person as themselves, and relate in my own experience in a way that relates to them. i guess combine this observation with the fact that i have found myself in a new place, enthusiastic about those people i find around me right now (thus wanting to devote many of my rants and thinkings to them) and eager to write and spend my daily mind energy on the trials and throw-away processes of writing a whole new host of songs, and i haven't really ended up on here a whole bunch. i do want to write a music-related journal, and i just want it to be me, not geared for anybody but myself, that kinda surrounds my chosen love of music-making with a scattered mosaic of memory. stuff that doesn't neccesarily define me, but stuff that just occurs. ok see i've already carried on about it waayy too artificially. but the point is i tried, right?
so here i am- i have found myself living in an area that contains waay too much wealth than the people here even know what to do with, and the availibility of everything is right at my fingertips as long as i don't mind the complication of suburban overpopulation and gridlock to make it there. there is about as much diversity with which to supply me with a gamut of experience as i could ask for, but it's funny because the same lines of division exist, just in different ways as the louisiana south from which i come. people still find ways to make fake politenesses to each other, but the closed-mindedness just manifests a bit differently. different ethnicities and communities live right up alongside each other, and there is big korean writing next to a jewish delicatessin next to an urban cd shop next to a kabob place next to a buisiness-class tailor shop next to a creatively titled place that serves pho, and it is easy to marvel at the broadness of mind it all garners. however, i have found that while this may be so, the subtle barriers of judgement and cliched stereotype fill the air and are sanctioned just as tightly as the real estate. o how i love to feel the cutting edge tap at the closet of my mind, to know that i am in the brain of one of the top world likenesses, and to know that the washington post and the indie music mags and the choicest organic fruits are right around my corner, but it all comes at a cost.
jonathan has done his best to keep the running shoes on my laptop that huddles around the racetrack with sores and fevers trying to keep up with the likes of lightspeed flatscreen equivilants of the cars here, and maniacally rubbing his hands together professed, 'i can't wait to wipe that thing out' to reinstall newer and better software in its willing chambers. thus i have been filling my iPod with all the essentials of my library, making it just as diverse and far-reaching musically as i like to fancy my own head. it's amazing how such a device is yet another modern means by which we attempt to define ourselves. as if i can lean over to someone in the metro and have them flip thru my loaded selections with a clockwise motion of their thumb and suddenly have them truly know me with gallant authenticity..
i am also in the middle of a household that is going from one extreme to the other~ one that has long risided comfortably in the lackadaisical whimsy of an all-male arrangement; where clothes strewn across the couch with lopsided cushions and mismatched kitchen devices next to a floor upon which random leaves added to the brown hues that somehow compliment the abundance of testoserone that leaves it all there. but now the house is going from dad to moms, and the american dream somehow consists of matching stainless steel oven and refrigerator set upon a tile floor upon which one might eat if they ran out of plates. i have long known the middle path was the way for me but i wonder how all these angles got inside of us? i wonder how i knew my car was purely functional, how i don't mind that there is an order to its disorder and that it serves pefectly as the road car it is, ripe with wardrobe changes and phone numbers and music at my disposal? and what conditioned energy is spent by the H2 guy beside me on the road whose seats are spotless and who spends enough in gas money to buy a couple of my guitars after about a month? i just hope people are happy with their choices. and if you really are garnering more respect, if you really do have good blood pressure and really healthy relationships, than who am i to judge? i just feel a bit alien sometimes, and most of the time it seems as though the people on the sides of me are at one extreme or the other.
saw martin sexton play for around 600+ people at the 9:30 club the other nite, and i didn't really get it as much as i used to. was it that it was about the 16th time i've seen the guy, or was it that he has grown into a comfortable performing career niche in which he presents himself in a way that that many people listening to a tens-of-thousands-of-watts-p.a.-system can identify with? i do know that it's probably just as valuable to have the experience of what doesn't neccesarily work for me but when i have to stand for three hours as if i am at the globe theatre itself i'd rather other lessons. all said i had an amazing time in the company of marvelousness.
tonight i am going to see le tigre. you know the band that likes the cars that go boom. i mostly sometimes just wanna get lost in the masses and not think too much about the music that doesn't do much more than make you feel good. i'm going in sheph's place, so i must jump up and down and pretend that i am a lyger.