motion towards

I was on the way back from the Roadhouse, thinking about Sartre--who, by the way, was apparently a real person but was different than I would have imagined him had I ever thought to imagine him--and I wanted to write a blog post that not only charted but prodded any sort of progress towards self-awareness. I've been reading "Tête-à-Tête" which chronicles the relationship between Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir along with all the tangential relationships that spun off from them. So far, I'm mostly impressed by their level of commitment--not to each other but to an idea, one of self-determining individualism. At least, that's where they are now; I think it all changes after the War when they are forced to wake up from their idealism.

Reading about them is motivating me to remember my own freedom. It's easy to forget to embody the struggle when you're alone much of the week. While we are not as free as they assume in their philosophy, we are freer than we think. I blame the filter in our brain that keeps us from entertaining notions that are too far out of bounds. Like, I am not going to consider joining the Navy. But how many passable notions are we blocking along with the totally impossible? Too many. Free is as free does; free doers are free thinkers.

And just as Sartre, as character in this book, is teaching by example, so does Holden Caulfield. And between the time I got home, thinking of writing this blog post, and now, I found a South Park on tv. I really wish it were more accepted in intellectual circles to cite South Park episodes, but they really do hit some nails on the head--a handful every episode.

.

It's another cold, damp day here in Michigan. The bushes in front of the house are apparently called forsythia and are blooming; the magnolia tree down the block is preggers with potential. I know what magnolia are from the movie.

Yesterday was a sisyphean day that ended on a high note (figuratively). I've been working on music for my grandma's funeral next weekend and have been struggling. I've come up with several 1/2-baked ideas that then appear infeasible or inappropriate by the next day. Last night, after working in one direction all day, I changed tacks yet again. (That metaphor is also good for writing music--sailing: sometimes tacking into the wind, sometimes going with it.) Around dinner, I had a beer and made a fire--one of the best of each I've had in a while. The beer I bought up here in Michigan, wanting to get something local but not wanting to resort to the ubiquitous Bell's. I got this beer from Ypsilanti from the Dark Horse brewery called "Amber Ale." And despite the lackluster name (or because of it), it was fantastic. I asked my homebrewer friend Russ about it, who said that Dark Horse is one of his favorite breweries. I vaguely remembered a post he did about the brewery on his homebrew blog. Turns out, the funeral is in Detroit, which is close to Ypsilanti.

So after the beer and the fire, I got back to the tiny room at the back of the house with a glass of scotch. And I think I found the right mood. We'll see how I feel today. I'm generally not a fan of drinking and writing, but sometimes your mind gets into a negative feedback loop, for which a nip of something alcoholic provides the appropriate escape.

So I felt like I was neglecting Netflix and so made a little quality time with me and the limitless stream. First, Arrested Development. So good. I hadn't seen any in years but could watch the whole thing all over again. Then, per suggestion from several friends and random encounters, Dexter. What? A show about a serial killer? He's more than just a serial killer, he's also a forensic cop who does blood evidence work. I agree with the people on Facebook: there should be a dislike button. Even if it weren't practically midnight, I would have found the show disgusting and revolting, from the surgical murder in the opening scene, to the discovery of dismembered parts, to the quick clip of a rape in an internet video, and on to to the next murder. No thanks.

So to cleanse the mental palette before bed, I turned to South Park. That shows just how horrible Dexter is. And the next one in line was about Cartman using his "psychic" powers to catch a serial killer. Geez, I can't win. So I watched the next one too, about the Woodland Critters Christmas special, which is making me laugh out loud right now as I type. Heilige Sheise. To sum it up: Stan discovers woodland critters about to celebrate Christmas and does their bidding until he realizes that they are about to bring forth the spawn of Satan and implant it in a human host. Watch it if you have 20 minutes. Even though it's not Christmas. Actually, it's probably better to watch this episode when it's NOT Christmas--even remotely.

Finally, sleep. And now to see if what I came up with yesterday is any good.

what [not] to say

This morning I was accosted by two Mormon missionaries. After beating me senseless and taking my wallet, they wanted to talk about Jesus Christ. I indulged them, partially because I don't think many in Lakeview would be at all sympathetic. It was my act of charity for the week.

In hindsight, this is what I would have liked to add to the discussion:

• Jesus who?
• Have you ever seen that one South Park?
• I just read this thing about Mormon men coming back from there mission and thinking they're gay because they haven't had any real contact with women for 2 years. (Now if I could only remember where I read that.)
• Is there a form that I can fill out to request NOT being converted after I'm dead?
• Do you have an answer for everything?
• I don't even discuss my beliefs with close friends and family; where do you get off thinking I'll discuss them with you?

But they're such nice people. Yes, but nice people become the cogs in the machine run by people who know what they want and aren't afraid to crush a couple egos to get it.

smoldering

Where there's fire, there's heat, but the reverse is not necessarily true. I made a fire tonight, trying to only use two logs and some newspaper. Yes, and some lighter fluid too. Fires like that can start off looking promising but then quickly die down to smoldering logs. There's heat, there's a little smoke, but no flames. I either get some more paper or blow on it, but it's takes a while, without kindling, to convince two thick logs to really catch.

Which is how I've felt all week. I left my focus, my vision for the future, somewhere either at the cottage or in Chicago. The flames have died down, and, although I'm super hot, there's no visible sign of fire. Hot with potential that is. I'm not too worried, just annoyed that I made little, if any, forward progress. Some days, some weeks are like that. I have to remember this weekend that, just as tomorrow begins tonight, next week begins this weekend. I'm going to have a weekend that doesn't take two days to recover from.

I figured out what's missing this week: a goal or deadline. I forgot to think about the near and distant futures at all this week to find a new one. I say a new one, because last weekend was an arrival point if only in my head. Several weeks ago I set the Saturday night party as a deadline to come up with some new stuff. There was a remote possibility that I would play this stuff at the party. Even in the days leading up to last weekend, I kept telling myself it was a possibility - clearly a lie but one that produced results.

New deadlines have arrived, so I should be cooking with gas next week. First, I came up with some new ideas for the orchestra piece, bringing that idea back from the ashes. These ideas are much more manageable than the vague concepts of chaos and order I was attempting to incarnate last go-around. Second, I got word of a little competition, deadline in a couple months.

The album idea doesn't motivate me right now, but if I can remember why it was important to me, I'll resurrect the best tracks and make another push.

Errata: I didn't leave the house today and am forgoing my weekly trip to the Roadhouse. I'm quitting drinking for a little while. I left my yoga mat out all day so that I can do 5 minutes of stretching every break I take. I can touch my toes again and am working on upper body strength so I can do a handstand.

I'm thinking about joining the circus.

No I'm not. Say no to say yes.

Here's a clip from the South Park I linked to last week. You should know that there's a running gag with Jeff Goldblum making crazy associations. But the punchline comes towards the end of the clip. It's only 2 minutes but will give you the idea.

if it pleases and sparkles, a third post

I know it's been a busy blogging day, but this is one of the most insightful look into how girls make decisions. The rest of the episode explains how good looking kids rely on their looks and never develop character.

many days later

The lake is frozen as far as I can see. That's not exactly true. When on what used to be the beach--even when walking out over the ice ridges--there's no water to be seen. From up by the cliff, though, I think I can see what looks like liquid water. I walked out over the congealed ice balls over the ridge where I made the wave video last week and found a new ridge. The new one is much more dramatic, so I was going over the edge, not being certain I could make it back up. Throwing caution to the relatively calm wind, I went over the second ridge and wandered around in the vast desert of ice balls. Two amazing things: one, since I took the photo with my iPhone, iPhoto knows where I was when I took it and knows that I was out in the lake; two, my phone actually changed time zones back to Chicago/Indiana time while I was away from shore. I almost felt like an arctic explorer; it was a unique experience to explore this landscape, especially considering it is temporary and may never exist again. And yet, I was still tethered to reality by my phone.

I got to Michigan Monday afternoon after a crazy weekend. Saturday was my favorite, although it wore me out and I had to crash early. Sunday was nice but more calm and predictable. Saturday went like this: wake on a futon, drive friends to their i-Go car, make camp in a cafe, shower at a friends, get a text about dim sum, walk 4 blocks to dim sum, take train to coffee, meet someone for coffee, call up Laura, meet her and Joe at a cafe, then falafel at Sultan's, go to Myopic, almost buy Doctor Faustus, and then start to feel out of sorts. The Damen bus led me right back to Andersonville and I crashed on the couch watching South Park online. Wore me out. Sunday was coffee at the Coffee Studio, which has great coffee but is crowded so I stress about the seating situation, bagel with Amos to discuss music, coffee with Brian, food with Sarah, Gallery Cabaret for the open mic, denied (too many people had signed up, no room at the inn), then to a bar with Anna, Peter, and his French friend with whom he wanted me to talk French.

Discussions this weekend included: what makes an opera; how recordings are like pornography; how we have a crisis of imagination in this country; spectral music; my music needing contrasting themes; and so on.

That last one is interesting. In my music, I strive to create organic change. I start with the zygote and then grow it into a fetus and then birth it. Traditional Classical music has contrasting themes, acting as the thesis and antithesis, coming together to form a synthesis. Turns out I just start with the synthesis and work it out from there. A friend and fellow composer thinks I should start incorporating contrasting themes in my music. I'm not sure he's wrong; it's a good way to challenge myself. And a good time to rethink how I think about the world. I'm happy seeing the big picture, but it's helpful to break unities into their component dualities.

Little by little, I'm regaining consciousness. It only takes one night to lose but takes so long to get back. Tomorrow begins tonight, but tonight began this morning. It's a cycle, and you can either be on the spiral-track elevator going up or down.

I'm still adamant about having a clean space: having a clearer mind today, I had the mental energy to wrangle the space. I got up late (again) and drank my coffee with my oatmeal breakfast. There's something so pure and simple about oatmeal (even with the brown sugar, salt, walnuts, and curry that I add). After a weekend of some of the best food, my body is content with simplicity. So oatmeal, homemade bread, rice, and potatoes have been the main ingredients in my diet today. And a hot chocolate and a hot cinnamon milk. But in general, simple.

I did music things this morning but nothing really focused or productive. I am getting distracted by the idea of covering songs at the Gallery Cabaret open mic on Sunday nights. I would really like to be a better performer, but at the same time, I know it doesn't come as easily to me as to some. And so it's a question of whether or not it's worth it. Right now, I'm enjoying it, so I'm going to work up a couple songs and do them this Sunday. Probably the Elliott Smith song I posted yesterday and maybe another Nine Inch Nails song. The one I did last week seemed to go over well--or not at all.

And so I played the guitar a lot today and the fingers on my left hand are a little tender. They'll toughen up. And in the process of playing, I keep getting to know my software better. In a way, I can excuse whatever I do, no matter how tangential, as long as I learn more about the world of Ableton Live.

In fact, the last tangent of the day was making a quick cover of a Daft Punk song. You can hear it here.

I took a great walk to the beach today. Since my phone is dead, I charged up my digital camera. Turns out it can take movies. That will probably prove to be a better option for future youtube piano performances. But for now, I just have a couple images. I highly recommend spending time at the beach in the winter. Here, the beach has been extended about 50 feet by the ice. So far. We'll see how far it gets by February. It's not ice like you'd think, though. As you can see in the picture, it's like dirty ice balls that have been swimming in the lake that have frozen together. It was like walking on another planet. And intensely windy.

The last two nights, I got sucked in by the tv. Being weakened by the weekend, I was not strong enough to resist. And I rediscovered South Park. So funny. Tonight, I only watched one episode. Good thing we have cable; it's always on one of three channels.

All for now. I think tomorrow holds big things. Remind me to talk about time.

Oh yeah, read this.