7.12.02
5.12.02
it feels like im coming back full circle again... somewhat lost, somwhat caught in the past. been thinking of my ex again though i try to tell myself to let it go. maybe its the drugs, maybe i really am over it. maybe this is the midweek blues; afterall i had a pretty large weekend. thinking and talking in circles... the more i write, the deeper the spiral. maybe it would be better if i never wrote anything down and let myself realise/caught in my thoughts.
i thought i knew what i wanted to do... which i do, in a way, but its becoming to feel too much like a dream. afterall, how concrete is anything; what is my dream gonna do for me for a future, when it comes to the base needs of survival in this pathetic capitalist world. i used to wish i was born in a different century when the world wasnt so... material. now i wonder, how much of it was youthful idealism, and how much of it is my procastination and inability to deal with the "real" world that i live in.
am i depressed? what is depression anymore... the lines are blurred between me and the drugs, where do they end and begin? a vicious cycle. who am i?
we are what we eat.
i thought i knew what i wanted to do... which i do, in a way, but its becoming to feel too much like a dream. afterall, how concrete is anything; what is my dream gonna do for me for a future, when it comes to the base needs of survival in this pathetic capitalist world. i used to wish i was born in a different century when the world wasnt so... material. now i wonder, how much of it was youthful idealism, and how much of it is my procastination and inability to deal with the "real" world that i live in.
am i depressed? what is depression anymore... the lines are blurred between me and the drugs, where do they end and begin? a vicious cycle. who am i?
we are what we eat.
1.11.02
i just came back from tree of palme:
-
well, tree of palme instantly became one of the best anime i've seen... visually breathtaking, riveting landscapes and flora... even when the plot dragged a bit, my eyes were glued to the screen.
stylistically reminded me of this french comic artist by the name of jean "moebius" giraud, very clean lines, plain colours; very very surreal.
a big headfuck in terms of storyline(s)... so many sub-storylines happening on different levels: dealing with desires, loss, failed dreams, innocence, love and yearning... ironically all interweaved around a non-human puppet as their focal point.
the film developed the protagonist, palme, very nicely at the beginning though some might have found it slow. however, 3/4 into the movie, i thought it became rather "clumsy": when he started displaying somewhat mercural personalities which might have been inferred but no catalyst was readily recognised.
the female character, popo, became the focus, and at times, obsession of palme: she was the one who snapped him out of his initial fugue state, and later on, became his anchorpoint as his mind and body dissolved. i thought she could've been "fleshed out" more. she had her moments... when she rebelled against her mother, asking if she was just her puppet, seconds after palme was kicked aside as an inaminate object.
shatta, one of the supporting cast, is an abandoned street kid, leader of a band (who provided comic relief) dreaming of taking over the flamingo. he was introduced as a mercenery character who saw palme as a source of money. the flim sees him change and slowly make an about-turn, supporting palme in his quest. shatta never belonged wherever he was; in search of his mother and made peace with her in palme.
which brings us to koram, whom shatta searched for, the mother who abandoned him, who, in turn, was abandoned by her father. a restless and i hazard to say, vindictive/vengeful soul. she started the chain of events which saw her attaining and losing her life, for what her brothers and father could not do, to prove her worth. that was then entrusted to palme to finish the task which made him cross paths with shatta. full circle.
the tamas tribe... the portrayed "bad guys" in the film... they themselves innocents, victims of a god who has forgotten and cast them aside for something, better. the influence of moebius is most evident in the way they were drawn, their clothes and technology.
what i've written does not begin to describe how mind blowing tree of palme is, when u sit in darkness fully submerged in an alien, surreal and vaguely familiar dream, rifed with undercurrents of emotional distress and innocent joy.
a very poignant and beautiful journey.
-
well, tree of palme instantly became one of the best anime i've seen... visually breathtaking, riveting landscapes and flora... even when the plot dragged a bit, my eyes were glued to the screen.
stylistically reminded me of this french comic artist by the name of jean "moebius" giraud, very clean lines, plain colours; very very surreal.
a big headfuck in terms of storyline(s)... so many sub-storylines happening on different levels: dealing with desires, loss, failed dreams, innocence, love and yearning... ironically all interweaved around a non-human puppet as their focal point.
the film developed the protagonist, palme, very nicely at the beginning though some might have found it slow. however, 3/4 into the movie, i thought it became rather "clumsy": when he started displaying somewhat mercural personalities which might have been inferred but no catalyst was readily recognised.
the female character, popo, became the focus, and at times, obsession of palme: she was the one who snapped him out of his initial fugue state, and later on, became his anchorpoint as his mind and body dissolved. i thought she could've been "fleshed out" more. she had her moments... when she rebelled against her mother, asking if she was just her puppet, seconds after palme was kicked aside as an inaminate object.
shatta, one of the supporting cast, is an abandoned street kid, leader of a band (who provided comic relief) dreaming of taking over the flamingo. he was introduced as a mercenery character who saw palme as a source of money. the flim sees him change and slowly make an about-turn, supporting palme in his quest. shatta never belonged wherever he was; in search of his mother and made peace with her in palme.
which brings us to koram, whom shatta searched for, the mother who abandoned him, who, in turn, was abandoned by her father. a restless and i hazard to say, vindictive/vengeful soul. she started the chain of events which saw her attaining and losing her life, for what her brothers and father could not do, to prove her worth. that was then entrusted to palme to finish the task which made him cross paths with shatta. full circle.
the tamas tribe... the portrayed "bad guys" in the film... they themselves innocents, victims of a god who has forgotten and cast them aside for something, better. the influence of moebius is most evident in the way they were drawn, their clothes and technology.
what i've written does not begin to describe how mind blowing tree of palme is, when u sit in darkness fully submerged in an alien, surreal and vaguely familiar dream, rifed with undercurrents of emotional distress and innocent joy.
a very poignant and beautiful journey.
30.10.02
an addendum: apparently, i shouted in my dream this morning, though i have no recollection of it... my housemate asked me why i was shouting in the morning and i didnt even know. rather disturbing... i dont think i've had such bad dreams in my life that i physically reacted to it in such a manner.
an update: its fucking 0543 now and i cant sleep... im gonna take out the g... again, sigh.
an update: its fucking 0543 now and i cant sleep... im gonna take out the g... again, sigh.
went away to the beach (anglesea) for the weekend... and i have this to say: sobriety is overrated. time passes way too slowly when sober (not in reference to the weekend but sobriety in general). however... i did almost eat nonstop for 24 hours... so i guess that's good... healthy even. and played beach cricket though i had no fucking idea wat was going on... hit the ball, run; that seems to be it. and i caught the blues brothers for the first time, after a heavy dinner of babercued meat... which left me dozing off infront of the tv. we almost broke the "no chems" rule to stay away but decided it aint worth the trouble since it's been a good weekend... so we drank more.
i had wanted to write over the weekend... thinking a getaway in a house overlooking the beach and ocean would be good inspiration, i was inspired... but the words were clumsy and it felt too fake to be writing at a getaway. but just before sleeping... i managed to draw and i was worried i might be losing the skill i just rediscovered... so i suppose something good worked out in the creative department.
it was a good weekend away with friends, just doing nothing and whatever we were comfortable with... i almost felt pressured to be having fun but there was just no energy after the taxing week and the food weighed too heavy in the stomachs.
sober and good.
scarey in a way... that i have to remove myself from the environment i put myself in... to be sober.
reached home on sunday, finished my video edit, and took out the g to relax.
monday: submitted the video, did a 3d presentation, and spent the night at home sober, wanting to chill out a bit b4 i got back into the work... and as i said, sobriety is way overrated... must be the worst time i've had trying to chill out... not having anything to do cept being on the net.
tuesday (today): wasted my day chilling out and moderating the forum, discussing some forum issues, my only constructive thing being a simple html page i put together to submit searches to the engines i frequently use. had dinner, and arranged with friends to have dessert cos i was having a cake craving... so we went and had a pretty good time digging in and feeling sick from all the cakes, and laughing and joking in general... and planning nye. surprisingly, we had a pretty good time doing something normal and sober... i've forgotten wat it feels like to sit around for a coffee and just chatting... it was very relaxing and enjoyable.
finished 2 3d models of comets and im just chilling now... i dont feel particularly sleepy even though i know im on my way to fucking up my sleep pattern again... but well, it's been a pretty good day considering i did fuck all in the day, and then did work at night till 4am... so im feeling quite good about it.
sober and productive, that's a nice change.
why am i writing this? i dont usually chronicle my weekends or days like this... but perhaps this journal is filled with too much pain and angst, perhaps... i need to remind myself that i am afterall, still human and alive... i would hate to look back on almost 2yrs of this journal and see only pain (not that im happy or euphoric right now).
hate to sound cliche but i hope this is a step towards the reconstruction of my self... learning to look beyond the pain and the silent black and white of my world.
i feel like... i am on the brink of something, perhaps i might call it fate, or destiny even (ha!) but as i've said... over the past 6 months, these past 2 months, and the past few weeks... things are becoming clearer and i think this is a step in that direction, no?
again... i find myself falling into an introspective mood as i type... a bad habit of mine... rambling on and on. i get like this sometimes... when i start, i cant stop writing; unfortunately only in relation to my personal self... if i could do this on a professional basis, that would be nice.
who knows... cos i for one sure dont... but perhaps in chronicling these changes, i might know someday.
i had wanted to write over the weekend... thinking a getaway in a house overlooking the beach and ocean would be good inspiration, i was inspired... but the words were clumsy and it felt too fake to be writing at a getaway. but just before sleeping... i managed to draw and i was worried i might be losing the skill i just rediscovered... so i suppose something good worked out in the creative department.
it was a good weekend away with friends, just doing nothing and whatever we were comfortable with... i almost felt pressured to be having fun but there was just no energy after the taxing week and the food weighed too heavy in the stomachs.
sober and good.
scarey in a way... that i have to remove myself from the environment i put myself in... to be sober.
reached home on sunday, finished my video edit, and took out the g to relax.
monday: submitted the video, did a 3d presentation, and spent the night at home sober, wanting to chill out a bit b4 i got back into the work... and as i said, sobriety is way overrated... must be the worst time i've had trying to chill out... not having anything to do cept being on the net.
tuesday (today): wasted my day chilling out and moderating the forum, discussing some forum issues, my only constructive thing being a simple html page i put together to submit searches to the engines i frequently use. had dinner, and arranged with friends to have dessert cos i was having a cake craving... so we went and had a pretty good time digging in and feeling sick from all the cakes, and laughing and joking in general... and planning nye. surprisingly, we had a pretty good time doing something normal and sober... i've forgotten wat it feels like to sit around for a coffee and just chatting... it was very relaxing and enjoyable.
finished 2 3d models of comets and im just chilling now... i dont feel particularly sleepy even though i know im on my way to fucking up my sleep pattern again... but well, it's been a pretty good day considering i did fuck all in the day, and then did work at night till 4am... so im feeling quite good about it.
sober and productive, that's a nice change.
why am i writing this? i dont usually chronicle my weekends or days like this... but perhaps this journal is filled with too much pain and angst, perhaps... i need to remind myself that i am afterall, still human and alive... i would hate to look back on almost 2yrs of this journal and see only pain (not that im happy or euphoric right now).
hate to sound cliche but i hope this is a step towards the reconstruction of my self... learning to look beyond the pain and the silent black and white of my world.
i feel like... i am on the brink of something, perhaps i might call it fate, or destiny even (ha!) but as i've said... over the past 6 months, these past 2 months, and the past few weeks... things are becoming clearer and i think this is a step in that direction, no?
again... i find myself falling into an introspective mood as i type... a bad habit of mine... rambling on and on. i get like this sometimes... when i start, i cant stop writing; unfortunately only in relation to my personal self... if i could do this on a professional basis, that would be nice.
who knows... cos i for one sure dont... but perhaps in chronicling these changes, i might know someday.
25.10.02
i am putting this here as a point of reference to what i just blogged, the actual webpage can be found here
-
i've held back on replying because i know yaya personally and i got him started on this chemical journey.
however... i guess i cant help offering my 0.02c... its not just with drug use (however, more so and more importantly) but with life in general... we need to be able to step outside of the circle/boundary that is our lives, and be able to look IN, and see how we're doing, as objectively as possible.
and because drugs affect our minds/characters on such fundamental levels, it is even more important that we are able to step out and view our drug usage independently and objectively.
now... my own history and experience:
i can honestly say i got into the scene without the help of drugs. i've been listening to electronic music for a couple of years now (singapore is not exactly conducive to drugs, having a zero tolerance policy and random urine spot checks in clubs). so i think i can safely say, when i got into the scene, it was purely for the music. that has always been my priority... even with my history of drug-taking, the drugs i choose to take, i would like to think, expands my mind and enhances the musical experience. drugs like ketamine, nitrous, cocaine, heroin, etc; do not appeal to me at all because from what i can tell (with my limited experiences of them), they dont do anything for me, and my music.
with that belief... i have never needed to take more than 2 pills a night, usually, 1, or 1.5; and i assume the music would take me places once the chemicals open up the doors.
however... this year, with some personal upheavel in my life... i have resorted to consuming drugs for the sake of being fucked/in a daze. i dont even take them to feel good anymore, just to be in a daze in which my mind doesnt have to function (i tend to brood and think too much). i have not had a sober night in more than a month... usually drinking alcohol (started with scotch which got me depressed so i changed to beer) or smoking some dope... telling myself that i just need to take them to relax.
slowly, without me realising, or my refusing to see, it spiralled out of control and it reached the stage where i would push myself as hard as i can go... so i dont have to deal with comedowns, and i can just black out when i hit the bed, because i DO think too much.
fast forward to wotw 2002... despite the good night i had listening and sharing richie hawtin's set with my crew... come the day after, my mood destabilised and i was oscillating between serious/cheerful/despair. i cried for more than 2 hours, totally feeling the futility and despair of my life, my lack of direction... and if not for my friends... i think i would've, might've, cut myself or done something, just to FEEL anything even remotely alive.
im not writing this to gain sympathy... as some of u who know me in person, i am very very personal about my life and i dont open up to people at all.
i am however, writing this in support of what yaya has written, that there can never be a bad time for self-assesment, comparing ur current state of attitude with ur attitude when u first started drug consumption.
too easily, we can convince ourselves of a need or a reason, to overdo drugs, too easily, we can rationalise it.
and when u, or we, overdo it, and it all comes crashing down, i pray to god... we all have our loved ones with us.
that is all.
-
i've held back on replying because i know yaya personally and i got him started on this chemical journey.
however... i guess i cant help offering my 0.02c... its not just with drug use (however, more so and more importantly) but with life in general... we need to be able to step outside of the circle/boundary that is our lives, and be able to look IN, and see how we're doing, as objectively as possible.
and because drugs affect our minds/characters on such fundamental levels, it is even more important that we are able to step out and view our drug usage independently and objectively.
now... my own history and experience:
i can honestly say i got into the scene without the help of drugs. i've been listening to electronic music for a couple of years now (singapore is not exactly conducive to drugs, having a zero tolerance policy and random urine spot checks in clubs). so i think i can safely say, when i got into the scene, it was purely for the music. that has always been my priority... even with my history of drug-taking, the drugs i choose to take, i would like to think, expands my mind and enhances the musical experience. drugs like ketamine, nitrous, cocaine, heroin, etc; do not appeal to me at all because from what i can tell (with my limited experiences of them), they dont do anything for me, and my music.
with that belief... i have never needed to take more than 2 pills a night, usually, 1, or 1.5; and i assume the music would take me places once the chemicals open up the doors.
however... this year, with some personal upheavel in my life... i have resorted to consuming drugs for the sake of being fucked/in a daze. i dont even take them to feel good anymore, just to be in a daze in which my mind doesnt have to function (i tend to brood and think too much). i have not had a sober night in more than a month... usually drinking alcohol (started with scotch which got me depressed so i changed to beer) or smoking some dope... telling myself that i just need to take them to relax.
slowly, without me realising, or my refusing to see, it spiralled out of control and it reached the stage where i would push myself as hard as i can go... so i dont have to deal with comedowns, and i can just black out when i hit the bed, because i DO think too much.
fast forward to wotw 2002... despite the good night i had listening and sharing richie hawtin's set with my crew... come the day after, my mood destabilised and i was oscillating between serious/cheerful/despair. i cried for more than 2 hours, totally feeling the futility and despair of my life, my lack of direction... and if not for my friends... i think i would've, might've, cut myself or done something, just to FEEL anything even remotely alive.
im not writing this to gain sympathy... as some of u who know me in person, i am very very personal about my life and i dont open up to people at all.
i am however, writing this in support of what yaya has written, that there can never be a bad time for self-assesment, comparing ur current state of attitude with ur attitude when u first started drug consumption.
too easily, we can convince ourselves of a need or a reason, to overdo drugs, too easily, we can rationalise it.
and when u, or we, overdo it, and it all comes crashing down, i pray to god... we all have our loved ones with us.
that is all.
these past four weeks has been a haze... slowly i put myself back together after six months of deconstruction/destruction. when i can look back on the past six months since april, it feels like i have been on prozac (though i've never taken it, but this is the only way i can describe it), living like a zombie, my life in a loop everyday, of motions and breathing. detaching myself from my life has helped cope with last semester but it has not solved anything and in hindsight... only delayed the inevitable. i have continually ingested substances of any kind, legal or not, living in a contant daze because that has ironically become the only surety in my life, a comfort in the haze in which my mind stops functioning and that is the only way i can stop thinking because i need to stop, thinking.
it came crashing down, feeling total despair and crying my eyes out so much i wouldnt have recognised my face, for two hours or so, i cant tell the time. and thankfully, i had friends there to catch me when it did, thank god... they spoke to me and in their voices, a beacon of sorts toward which i could cling to, identify with, because i myself had no more identity except for the despair and loss. total complete dissolution of my self and the only certainty was the utter despair i was living through. how do i put that into words, how do i pin it down, and hope to translate it into pixels on a screen? order, chaos; static. even as i try to order my thoughts now and put them down, i can feel the encroachment of tears and chaos. i shake in the cold and i wonder... how much of it is the cold, and how much of it is the quivvering of my soul bared and naked in the cold.
since then... i have been slowly putting myself back together... it has been hard and rough... a jigsaw with no reference, a model with no instructions. i dont know where im going but i am trying to put myself back together with no reference or instructions.... i feel like i am putting a new me back together. slowly, i am trying to find myself after killing myself and i hope it is not too late.... there has been moments, thanks to the talks with my friends... there has been moments when, i could see, after three years of living in a silent, black and white world, i could once again see where i would like to be headed. moments of clarity and inspiration when i could see myself in my mind, in the future, doing what i can, or want, or would like to.
it seems like this brief period of deconstruction/construction, i am rebuilding a new me with a new purpose and vision and i have to thank my friends here for that. it comes and go, which is not surprising... after three years, six months of lack... the passion and inspiration i am rediscovering is not certain but what is? i try to explain to them what i saw in my mind in that moment of clarity and i am embarrassed for sounding farfetched and cheesy, coming across as a fool for dreaming... and i try to reassure myself, it doesnt matter and... (im crying... why am i crying? i dont understand... things are coming together arent they?) i try to convince myself, that it is a dream i should hold on to and with it, learn to live again because a dream is what i lost these past three years (and a utopia in the past six months) and... are we not the stuff that dreams are made on?
i am writing this down now... after my absence from this place for two weeks... trying to capture it and when i need to, revisit this place for a reminder. and i am trying to capture this down because... i was just hit by a brief spell of depression as i write this, coming unbidden and unwanted... and i am afraid that... perhaps the time for construction is not yet come and i am sliding back into the haze again? no... that would be somewhat melodramatic wouldnt it?
another reason for writing this down... i dont know how long this brief period of hope would last before it gets extinguished... and who knows... after all the deconstruction/distruction i have put my mind through... there might not be much of a mind left to find. i can say, with all honesty and fear... that i might be losing my grip on reality: i had a nightmare today before i woke up... talking to my parents in my dream and telling them these past six months and having the proverbial agrument with them, crying... and i woke up gasping. checking the time, it was 3pm in the afternoon, i had absolutely no idea why it was 3pm cos i had the distinct impression that i had woken up earlier than that. i stumbled out of bed lost and confused and i noticed, my eye mask and earplugs were neatly placed beside my bed: i have no recollection of taking them off and i am certain i put them on this morning before going to bed. i distinctly remember putting on my earplugs first, going to the toilet, coming back into my room, switching off the light and heater, lying down in bed, looking for my eye mask and putting that on, and then, sleep.
but absolutely no recollection of taking them off or maybe, even waking up. today, i doubted my memory and my sanity despite the fact that it all looked as if i was putting myself back together.
i am beginning to entertain the thought that perhaps i should look for help, despite my belief that i would never do so unless i actually tried to kill myself.
it came crashing down, feeling total despair and crying my eyes out so much i wouldnt have recognised my face, for two hours or so, i cant tell the time. and thankfully, i had friends there to catch me when it did, thank god... they spoke to me and in their voices, a beacon of sorts toward which i could cling to, identify with, because i myself had no more identity except for the despair and loss. total complete dissolution of my self and the only certainty was the utter despair i was living through. how do i put that into words, how do i pin it down, and hope to translate it into pixels on a screen? order, chaos; static. even as i try to order my thoughts now and put them down, i can feel the encroachment of tears and chaos. i shake in the cold and i wonder... how much of it is the cold, and how much of it is the quivvering of my soul bared and naked in the cold.
since then... i have been slowly putting myself back together... it has been hard and rough... a jigsaw with no reference, a model with no instructions. i dont know where im going but i am trying to put myself back together with no reference or instructions.... i feel like i am putting a new me back together. slowly, i am trying to find myself after killing myself and i hope it is not too late.... there has been moments, thanks to the talks with my friends... there has been moments when, i could see, after three years of living in a silent, black and white world, i could once again see where i would like to be headed. moments of clarity and inspiration when i could see myself in my mind, in the future, doing what i can, or want, or would like to.
it seems like this brief period of deconstruction/construction, i am rebuilding a new me with a new purpose and vision and i have to thank my friends here for that. it comes and go, which is not surprising... after three years, six months of lack... the passion and inspiration i am rediscovering is not certain but what is? i try to explain to them what i saw in my mind in that moment of clarity and i am embarrassed for sounding farfetched and cheesy, coming across as a fool for dreaming... and i try to reassure myself, it doesnt matter and... (im crying... why am i crying? i dont understand... things are coming together arent they?) i try to convince myself, that it is a dream i should hold on to and with it, learn to live again because a dream is what i lost these past three years (and a utopia in the past six months) and... are we not the stuff that dreams are made on?
i am writing this down now... after my absence from this place for two weeks... trying to capture it and when i need to, revisit this place for a reminder. and i am trying to capture this down because... i was just hit by a brief spell of depression as i write this, coming unbidden and unwanted... and i am afraid that... perhaps the time for construction is not yet come and i am sliding back into the haze again? no... that would be somewhat melodramatic wouldnt it?
another reason for writing this down... i dont know how long this brief period of hope would last before it gets extinguished... and who knows... after all the deconstruction/distruction i have put my mind through... there might not be much of a mind left to find. i can say, with all honesty and fear... that i might be losing my grip on reality: i had a nightmare today before i woke up... talking to my parents in my dream and telling them these past six months and having the proverbial agrument with them, crying... and i woke up gasping. checking the time, it was 3pm in the afternoon, i had absolutely no idea why it was 3pm cos i had the distinct impression that i had woken up earlier than that. i stumbled out of bed lost and confused and i noticed, my eye mask and earplugs were neatly placed beside my bed: i have no recollection of taking them off and i am certain i put them on this morning before going to bed. i distinctly remember putting on my earplugs first, going to the toilet, coming back into my room, switching off the light and heater, lying down in bed, looking for my eye mask and putting that on, and then, sleep.
but absolutely no recollection of taking them off or maybe, even waking up. today, i doubted my memory and my sanity despite the fact that it all looked as if i was putting myself back together.
i am beginning to entertain the thought that perhaps i should look for help, despite my belief that i would never do so unless i actually tried to kill myself.
7.10.02
it just occured to me tonight, that my friends in singapore are probably having supper at this time of the night... so i made a cup of teh for myself; joining them at the silent metaphorical table, at the prata store in my mind. a toast then... to friendships and the transience of life, the only surety we have. i am not sad...i am simply having this moment of acceptance and acknowledgement. i miss the act of communion at the supper table; more so than the act of supper itself. i miss the company, the banter, and the comfort of friends. it might not be forever, but for this transient moment, it is eternal.
6.10.02
...and so
the dark
ends
cool blue
sterile
in its horrific
beauty
stark
brittle
crisp
the pale white
playing itself
across my wall
my life
my cold fingers
losing their grip
my mind
spiralling
losing its grip
and yet
i persist, in this daze
i struggle, in this haze
i cry, in this cool
i drown, in oblivion
i die, with every breath
and yet
i
cant
let
go
of the dark
in this light
and so
it begins
breathe
the dark
ends
cool blue
sterile
in its horrific
beauty
stark
brittle
crisp
the pale white
playing itself
across my wall
my life
my cold fingers
losing their grip
my mind
spiralling
losing its grip
and yet
i persist, in this daze
i struggle, in this haze
i cry, in this cool
i drown, in oblivion
i die, with every breath
and yet
i
cant
let
go
of the dark
in this light
and so
it begins
breathe
5.10.02
soft yellow washes
tinged with orange
edged with darkness
burning red
peeking between
bands of darkness
magenta cool
it steals in
softly
quietly
bleached
mono
chromatic
breathe
i let go
engulfing dark
comforting dark
i let go
breathe
i surrender
to this dark
another dark
i surrender
breathe
cant fight
it
no
just trying
to
breathe
easy
no?
tinged with orange
edged with darkness
burning red
peeking between
bands of darkness
magenta cool
it steals in
softly
quietly
bleached
mono
chromatic
breathe
i let go
engulfing dark
comforting dark
i let go
breathe
i surrender
to this dark
another dark
i surrender
breathe
cant fight
it
no
just trying
to
breathe
easy
no?
1.10.02
i cant sleep... after a harrowing day of emotions, feeling so drained and empty now... i cant sleep. i lie in bed with my eyes closed and my mind's a mess, so's my heart. did u know i loved u? did u know how much u were to me? do u know i love u still? and how empty i am every night? i want to talk to u and hear ur voice again, but that is not gonna achieve anything except make it worse. if only i could reach across time and space, to the days of a better world and and find comfort in ur voice and ur arms.
do u know what u've done to me? turned me into? i guess not... i dont even know what i have become, perhaps some soulless machine that tries to remember it was once living and thus pretends to be a mockery of being human. do u even read these pages? i cant talk to u and yet i am having this one-sided dialogue because i am all alone here in the night... and all i can think of is reaching out to u; but that has its pain and price which i dont think i can deal with... so i write on these pages of cold technology, looking for the solace i cant find.
what do u know of a heart's yearning? i am all alone and all i want is to be with u again, but that is obviously too much for u to give. why did u stop loving me? i gave myself and my world to u, and u broke them both. i can never understand that, never.
and so i am, here, now, a broken man grasping for ur love and it seems, i am destined to drown.
i wished i died the day u left. cos it feels like... i died and didnt know it... and i continue to breathe, thinking i was alive.
do u know what u've done to me? turned me into? i guess not... i dont even know what i have become, perhaps some soulless machine that tries to remember it was once living and thus pretends to be a mockery of being human. do u even read these pages? i cant talk to u and yet i am having this one-sided dialogue because i am all alone here in the night... and all i can think of is reaching out to u; but that has its pain and price which i dont think i can deal with... so i write on these pages of cold technology, looking for the solace i cant find.
what do u know of a heart's yearning? i am all alone and all i want is to be with u again, but that is obviously too much for u to give. why did u stop loving me? i gave myself and my world to u, and u broke them both. i can never understand that, never.
and so i am, here, now, a broken man grasping for ur love and it seems, i am destined to drown.
i wished i died the day u left. cos it feels like... i died and didnt know it... and i continue to breathe, thinking i was alive.
25.9.02
i've been neglecting this place... there's nothing much going on in my life... i've cut away everything and i'm just standing at the edge of the whirlpool that is my life, as it see it being flushed away. i have become somewhat of a spectator in my own self, just seeing my life through my eyes and not really reacting anymore... i watch as i fall behind in my class, i watch as i take the public transport... i watch the computer... i watch... my life go by. i cant really type right now... so this will have to suffice as an update.
28.8.02
[another day... another day... just breathe... another day... just believe... another day... just breathe... im used to it by now -telepopmusik]
i am sure, one day, i will look back at this period of my life, who knows, we might both look back together, over a cup of coffee (a cafe latte without froth for you), shoulders hunched over a table too low, aroma wafting into our nose like the breeze i remember in ur hair.
and because, it would be one day in the future, when i would be older, and wiser, no? i can look back at myself, sitting cross legged, hunched, teary, typing this out on a keyboard stained by my fingers. listening to her singing to me, to breathe... to believe.
when i live again... and can bear to revisit this chapter...
perhaps, i can look back with you, amused, and have a laugh at life, youth and how, losing you was the end of my world.
but it was
i am sure, one day, i will look back at this period of my life, who knows, we might both look back together, over a cup of coffee (a cafe latte without froth for you), shoulders hunched over a table too low, aroma wafting into our nose like the breeze i remember in ur hair.
and because, it would be one day in the future, when i would be older, and wiser, no? i can look back at myself, sitting cross legged, hunched, teary, typing this out on a keyboard stained by my fingers. listening to her singing to me, to breathe... to believe.
when i live again... and can bear to revisit this chapter...
perhaps, i can look back with you, amused, and have a laugh at life, youth and how, losing you was the end of my world.
but it was
19.8.02
its a strange thing... i've experienced many times, but it just dawned on me, clicked together last night. i have many masks in my social life, the faces i put on in different social situations... not because i am a hyprocrite, but that's just how adaptive i am to people around me, i feed off vibes and return them, and its not necessarily a good thing when one is so emotionally sensitive. it used to bother me that i do not seem to have a consistent character, besides my most fundamental beliefs and principles... my self-expression/interaction changes with a snap of a finger to fit the context of a current company.
so i grew up with it, and just not think about it; i'm just better at dealing with different people, life goes on easily enough.
last night, as i danced to the music, i finally found a center for myself, where its stable and i dont have to think about myself or anything. it was just purely the music and i, holding a conversation. it felt right, no faces, no mannerisms and self-deception, i cant explain what a revelation it was (no i wasnt tripping). the me who move and re-orientate with every transient lapping wave of my psyche... i finally found a center. i found me, which doesnt need to adapt, oblige, answer to.
just two of us, the music and i, having an exhillirating converation and at times, not even one, but just a silent nod of acknowledgement, acceptance, respect and a small smile on my face. it was a silent victory... i was certainly not about to run all over the place shouting like the mad man i might have looked like, or did. i was satisfied, having found something new about the music that rules my life, contented, that i discovered something about, rather, found myself.
i dont know how long this will last, or if it will even cascade down into my life... but as my body was talking to the music, i found an equilibrium and peace.
although it still doesnt compare to being in love (oh how i miss the joys of drawing a deep lungful of air, wanting to burst out laughing becos life was beautiful and i was where i am... yes i miss that very much); i still miss her, and i think of her every moment, as i am doing right now, wishing with every breath and yet, exhaling; i havent had this peace and surety within for a long time.
all my self-doubts, my lack of faith in my fellow beings (having someone shred away my belief and understanding can do that), my cynicism; for the few hours last night, i lost them all.
i didnt need people, i didnt need anything, i didnt need to open up and be vulnerable, i didnt need to build anything... the music was there, always been, the music and i. we had an understanding, unspoken.
my one constant companion who has never let me down, in the right hands.
i am very grateful, for that few hours.
to all of u who love the music, thank you for sharing my life.
i lost myself tonight
in the depths of
basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths
my many facades
my many mannerism
i lost
them
all
my gins
my grimaces
lost
them
all
ego pared away
the ghost in the shell
the soul in the machine
that i was
lost
it
all
to the music
just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss
dissolute
dissolved
i feel a beat
i am there
punctuating it
feet, arms, elbows and hands
no more self
just body parts
my mind
a clean slate
to be written on
i lost myself tonight
the music becoming
my reality
my totality
threw it all away
i found myself in the music
the one true me
that doesnt smile and speak of nothing
i found the center of my being
and it was grounded in beats
i lost and found
me
so i grew up with it, and just not think about it; i'm just better at dealing with different people, life goes on easily enough.
last night, as i danced to the music, i finally found a center for myself, where its stable and i dont have to think about myself or anything. it was just purely the music and i, holding a conversation. it felt right, no faces, no mannerisms and self-deception, i cant explain what a revelation it was (no i wasnt tripping). the me who move and re-orientate with every transient lapping wave of my psyche... i finally found a center. i found me, which doesnt need to adapt, oblige, answer to.
just two of us, the music and i, having an exhillirating converation and at times, not even one, but just a silent nod of acknowledgement, acceptance, respect and a small smile on my face. it was a silent victory... i was certainly not about to run all over the place shouting like the mad man i might have looked like, or did. i was satisfied, having found something new about the music that rules my life, contented, that i discovered something about, rather, found myself.
i dont know how long this will last, or if it will even cascade down into my life... but as my body was talking to the music, i found an equilibrium and peace.
although it still doesnt compare to being in love (oh how i miss the joys of drawing a deep lungful of air, wanting to burst out laughing becos life was beautiful and i was where i am... yes i miss that very much); i still miss her, and i think of her every moment, as i am doing right now, wishing with every breath and yet, exhaling; i havent had this peace and surety within for a long time.
all my self-doubts, my lack of faith in my fellow beings (having someone shred away my belief and understanding can do that), my cynicism; for the few hours last night, i lost them all.
i didnt need people, i didnt need anything, i didnt need to open up and be vulnerable, i didnt need to build anything... the music was there, always been, the music and i. we had an understanding, unspoken.
my one constant companion who has never let me down, in the right hands.
i am very grateful, for that few hours.
to all of u who love the music, thank you for sharing my life.
i lost myself tonight
in the depths of
basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths
my many facades
my many mannerism
i lost
them
all
my gins
my grimaces
lost
them
all
ego pared away
the ghost in the shell
the soul in the machine
that i was
lost
it
all
to the music
just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss
dissolute
dissolved
i feel a beat
i am there
punctuating it
feet, arms, elbows and hands
no more self
just body parts
my mind
a clean slate
to be written on
i lost myself tonight
the music becoming
my reality
my totality
threw it all away
i found myself in the music
the one true me
that doesnt smile and speak of nothing
i found the center of my being
and it was grounded in beats
i lost and found
me
i caught up with a friend last night. we were both rolling off our tits and as is with such circumstances, we were talking a lotta shit but outta all the crap we spewed, he claimed we were best friends. now i never subscribed to this best friend business and i was kinda surprised and duly skeptical, so i asked him why. and he said, its cos we dont have to see each other, but when we do, we can just cut to the chase, no bullshit, and carry on from whenever we left off, or as the current situation dictates. which is true, it was like that with us and i value him for saying that.
i havent been comforted like this for a while, having someone have faith in me and in a friendship and i think, in hindsight now, i am very touched by it.
he wont know, and i wont mention it cos its just not the kinda mushy thing guys say to each other when we're sober, but thank you, besides the music, his company, our very messy conversation, was all i took home with at the end of the night.
thanks for a good night dude.
i havent been comforted like this for a while, having someone have faith in me and in a friendship and i think, in hindsight now, i am very touched by it.
he wont know, and i wont mention it cos its just not the kinda mushy thing guys say to each other when we're sober, but thank you, besides the music, his company, our very messy conversation, was all i took home with at the end of the night.
thanks for a good night dude.
18.8.02
it was a dark and stormy night, as how these nights go. no, it wasnt stormy, that was just theatrics.
kaesey taylor graced the decks in singapore for the second time, bringing with him his own brand of stormy darkness.
having had a disappointing night from anthony pappa (another fellow melbournian), expectations were high for mr taylor and in my books, he surpassed it. touching down in singapore at 9pm, playing at milkbar and then catching his next flight out of town; given the circumstances, he delivered a blinding set of technical exquisity.
respects.
kasey started off his set much deeper than i was used to hearing him play, reminding me very much of a melbourne institution, sunny/sunny side up... the deep dark dirty sound of australia. fortunately, rather than getting too deep and hypnotic for the average punter (people are known to have described the sound as "monotonous" and "boring"), kasey built up the set with more driving basslines. ah... the basslines, deep, riding, galloping, driving... they all blend together like a beautiful cocktail, flavours sliding, swirling, complementing each other... an apt analogy i should think. the sounds, the basslines, the beats, flowing into each other like liquid. synths and vocals floating on top with a deft touch of detail the way a painter puts highlights into a painting.
as these deep progressive sets go, vocals were not used overtly. but when they come in, soaring so incongruently with the basslines and sharp beats, we were all caught off guard. just when i thought i had leaped off a cliff into an abyss of audio decadency, my body floats along with the vocals, my mind bouyant in wonder (unknown - sanctuary). and then, a few tracks later, plunge further with a hypnotic monologue of the evil stephane k + pqm - insane poem.
back into the dark kasey brought us, sprinkled with echoes and "techy" synths. creating an ambient hollow expanse of space, occupied by sounds that cut acrossed my perception like knives, and the subtlest of melodies courtesy of debo + porter - deported; a track i've been waiting to hear played out.
medway + sean cusick - fiscal ep [graffiti] takes the set to the three quarter mark, a deep, growling bassline with an old skool, uplifting (if u can imagine "deep, growling" together with "uplifting") melody in itself. one of my recent favourite tracks, i was somewhat surprised that kasey played it, but thankful... it brought to the set, a certain optimism, that ultimately, its all good.
and then... finally, taking the journey home, cosmos - take me with you... a journey within the track itself. that moment of clarity, when i heard kasey mixing that last track, syncing so perfectly, blew me away. it was so smooth, just sliding into place like it so wholly belonged in the previous track, had me grinning and looking to friends if they caught it. there is nothing like hearing a good mix/transition, catching it, and marvelling at how it all fits together.
having caught anthony pappa and kasey taylor on consecutive nights... it dawned on me, on the dancefloor of milkbar. that is what the dj is at the decks for, putting pieces of music together, so well, so smooth, basslines all keyed... the sole purpose of a dj, to provide a continous journey of sound, uninterrupted by poor technical ability. kasey taylor was a far cry from anthony pappa, whose every track transition made me cringe at the intruding beats and basslines.
dancing becomes effortless under the guidance of a master who knows groove like his own heartbeat.
kasey taylor, will, and is, going places with his masterfuly crafted sets, his unique sound of deep and drive, building a set with such effortless progression that it keeps punters moving without realising.
it was a very optimistic sign for the singapore scene, that we are not solely reliant on the big players to bring in djs of a high-calibre and professionalism, and most importantly, good, quality progressive house. it did not matter what the punters came for, if they even knew who kasey taylor was...
they came
they danced
they paid homage.
[kasey taylor @ milkbar, a review]
kaesey taylor graced the decks in singapore for the second time, bringing with him his own brand of stormy darkness.
having had a disappointing night from anthony pappa (another fellow melbournian), expectations were high for mr taylor and in my books, he surpassed it. touching down in singapore at 9pm, playing at milkbar and then catching his next flight out of town; given the circumstances, he delivered a blinding set of technical exquisity.
respects.
kasey started off his set much deeper than i was used to hearing him play, reminding me very much of a melbourne institution, sunny/sunny side up... the deep dark dirty sound of australia. fortunately, rather than getting too deep and hypnotic for the average punter (people are known to have described the sound as "monotonous" and "boring"), kasey built up the set with more driving basslines. ah... the basslines, deep, riding, galloping, driving... they all blend together like a beautiful cocktail, flavours sliding, swirling, complementing each other... an apt analogy i should think. the sounds, the basslines, the beats, flowing into each other like liquid. synths and vocals floating on top with a deft touch of detail the way a painter puts highlights into a painting.
as these deep progressive sets go, vocals were not used overtly. but when they come in, soaring so incongruently with the basslines and sharp beats, we were all caught off guard. just when i thought i had leaped off a cliff into an abyss of audio decadency, my body floats along with the vocals, my mind bouyant in wonder (unknown - sanctuary). and then, a few tracks later, plunge further with a hypnotic monologue of the evil stephane k + pqm - insane poem.
back into the dark kasey brought us, sprinkled with echoes and "techy" synths. creating an ambient hollow expanse of space, occupied by sounds that cut acrossed my perception like knives, and the subtlest of melodies courtesy of debo + porter - deported; a track i've been waiting to hear played out.
medway + sean cusick - fiscal ep [graffiti] takes the set to the three quarter mark, a deep, growling bassline with an old skool, uplifting (if u can imagine "deep, growling" together with "uplifting") melody in itself. one of my recent favourite tracks, i was somewhat surprised that kasey played it, but thankful... it brought to the set, a certain optimism, that ultimately, its all good.
and then... finally, taking the journey home, cosmos - take me with you... a journey within the track itself. that moment of clarity, when i heard kasey mixing that last track, syncing so perfectly, blew me away. it was so smooth, just sliding into place like it so wholly belonged in the previous track, had me grinning and looking to friends if they caught it. there is nothing like hearing a good mix/transition, catching it, and marvelling at how it all fits together.
having caught anthony pappa and kasey taylor on consecutive nights... it dawned on me, on the dancefloor of milkbar. that is what the dj is at the decks for, putting pieces of music together, so well, so smooth, basslines all keyed... the sole purpose of a dj, to provide a continous journey of sound, uninterrupted by poor technical ability. kasey taylor was a far cry from anthony pappa, whose every track transition made me cringe at the intruding beats and basslines.
dancing becomes effortless under the guidance of a master who knows groove like his own heartbeat.
kasey taylor, will, and is, going places with his masterfuly crafted sets, his unique sound of deep and drive, building a set with such effortless progression that it keeps punters moving without realising.
it was a very optimistic sign for the singapore scene, that we are not solely reliant on the big players to bring in djs of a high-calibre and professionalism, and most importantly, good, quality progressive house. it did not matter what the punters came for, if they even knew who kasey taylor was...
they came
they danced
they paid homage.
[kasey taylor @ milkbar, a review]
i lost myself tonight, in the depths of basslines, claps, hi-hats, synths... i lost, and found myself tonight. my many facades, mannerism... i lost them all. my gins, my grimaces...lost them all. ego pared away, there was only the ghost in the shell, the soul in the machine that i became. lost it all to the music; just guiding my mind into a deeper abyss. dissolute, dissolved, i feel a beat, i am there, punctuating it feet, arms, elbows and hands... no more self, just body parts, my mind a clean slate to be written on. i lost myself tonight, the music becoming my reality, my totality. threw it all away, and i found myself in the music, the one true me that doesnt smile and speak of nothing... i found the center of my being and it was grounded in beats.
10.8.02
"-You are mortal: it is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell.
You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead.
You are alive.
So live."
Dream to his son Orpheus, in Brief Lives
You grieve. Then you continue with your life.
And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on.
She is dead.
You are alive.
So live."
Dream to his son Orpheus, in Brief Lives
5.8.02
29.7.02
We always hear "the rules" from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side. These are our rules! Please note .. these are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!
1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us griping about you leaving it down.
1. Birthdays, Valentines, and Anniversaries are not quests to see if we can find the perfect present yet again!
1. Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.
1. Sunday = sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
1. Don't cut your hair. Ever. Long hair is always more attractive than short hair. One of the big reasons guys fear getting married is that
married women always cut their hair, and by then you're stuck with her.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!
1. We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on a calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.
1. Most guys own three pairs of shoes - tops. What makes you think we'd be any good at choosing which pair, out of thirty, would look good with your dress?
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.
1. Check your oil! Please.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors. Peach,for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
1. We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as navel lint, the shotgun formation, or monster
trucks.
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. It is neither in your best interest or ours to take the quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.
1. Thank you for reading this; Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that? It's like
camping.
found this on a forum board, it wouldnt be so funny if it werent all true
1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us griping about you leaving it down.
1. Birthdays, Valentines, and Anniversaries are not quests to see if we can find the perfect present yet again!
1. Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.
1. Sunday = sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
1. Don't cut your hair. Ever. Long hair is always more attractive than short hair. One of the big reasons guys fear getting married is that
married women always cut their hair, and by then you're stuck with her.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!
1. We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on a calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.
1. Most guys own three pairs of shoes - tops. What makes you think we'd be any good at choosing which pair, out of thirty, would look good with your dress?
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.
1. Check your oil! Please.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors. Peach,for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
1. We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as navel lint, the shotgun formation, or monster
trucks.
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. It is neither in your best interest or ours to take the quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.
1. Thank you for reading this; Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that? It's like
camping.
found this on a forum board, it wouldnt be so funny if it werent all true
24.7.02
toni: if hating is the strength and from that one shall be strong, then yes... i am on my way indeed... fuck love, fuck parents, fuck the world, fuck every single one of them, i dont need anyone.
why should i need, why should i answer, why should i love, when it all brings me back to this point right now, writing this?
fuck the world, it rejects me as i have never truly lived in it
fuck love, it rejects me as much as i have loved in my quarter of a century.
fuck parents who use me as a vassal for their failures in lives
fuck friends who never appreciates and see, treating me like some disaposable, recyclable entity, coming to me only when they need.
tell me, why the fuck should i care about any of these, seriously. i have cared for so many years and lived for others in that time, it feels like the only time i have indulged and lived for myself is with the music and drugs.
fuck it all.
why should i need, why should i answer, why should i love, when it all brings me back to this point right now, writing this?
fuck the world, it rejects me as i have never truly lived in it
fuck love, it rejects me as much as i have loved in my quarter of a century.
fuck parents who use me as a vassal for their failures in lives
fuck friends who never appreciates and see, treating me like some disaposable, recyclable entity, coming to me only when they need.
tell me, why the fuck should i care about any of these, seriously. i have cared for so many years and lived for others in that time, it feels like the only time i have indulged and lived for myself is with the music and drugs.
fuck it all.
i hate my parents... they are the only ones who can make me feel like shit in the unique way progenitors do... expressing their disappointment in me for smoking and somehow, that has invalidated all their efforts in educating and bringing me up. they fail to realise the mental and phsical shape i am in, not having slept, stoned out, my life turned upside down... they dont care would be more accurate, all that matters is that i fit myself in with their perception of me and the world is fine. what is my life to them, except an extension of their egos and failed dreams.
right now... with the hate engendered in me, the anger at the world... i give in and relish in the hatred i feel for them, for making me feel the way i do, i dont care anymore, what do i owe them or the world when the world has rejected me and the person more important than this world and parents, doesnt care anymore?
why should i care?
i hate.
right now... with the hate engendered in me, the anger at the world... i give in and relish in the hatred i feel for them, for making me feel the way i do, i dont care anymore, what do i owe them or the world when the world has rejected me and the person more important than this world and parents, doesnt care anymore?
why should i care?
i hate.
drink up baby down
are you in or are you out?
leave your things behind
'cause it's all going off without you
excuse me too busy you're writing a tragedy
these mess-ups
you bubble-wrap
when you've no idea what you're like
so, let go
jump in
oh well, what you waiting for?
it's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so, let go
just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
Ii's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
it gains the more it gives
and then advances with the form
so, honey, back for more
can't you see that all the stuff's essential?
such boundless pleasure
we've no time for later
now you can wait
you roll your eyes
we've 20 seconds to comply
so, let go
jump in
oh well, what you waiting for?
it's al right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so, let go
just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
[frou frou - let go]
are you in or are you out?
leave your things behind
'cause it's all going off without you
excuse me too busy you're writing a tragedy
these mess-ups
you bubble-wrap
when you've no idea what you're like
so, let go
jump in
oh well, what you waiting for?
it's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so, let go
just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
Ii's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
it gains the more it gives
and then advances with the form
so, honey, back for more
can't you see that all the stuff's essential?
such boundless pleasure
we've no time for later
now you can wait
you roll your eyes
we've 20 seconds to comply
so, let go
jump in
oh well, what you waiting for?
it's al right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so, let go
just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
[frou frou - let go]
23.7.02
my own voices whispering thoughts i never had, emotions once held in check. the one thing i do understand, keeps repeating itself over and over, incessant, urgent; trying to inscribe itself into my grey matter, digging into the soft, wet organ, carving its own valley amidst the twisted grooves: "i dont need anyone". burning an indelible mark, smouldering with hatred.
hatred... not something im accustomed to, it sits there, not feeling anything, just a lump of nothing, void around it. i can feel my chest rising and falling with every breath, my heart beating and then, nothing, just this nothing, at the centre of me... i can only feel its persence by its absence.
i can feel anger, deep within, wanting to lash out at everyone, pushing everyone away and i stumble with my words, not knowing what to say to people, my eyes drift and darts, not connecting with anyone... i am an animal, hypnotised by this angry hatred within, like the headlights of an oncoming vehicle... i am caught in its thrall, helpless, consumed, driven.
i cant stop it... i can feel the walls closing me in and i cant stop it... torn, afraid, knowing it is for the better and no, no... no... i dont want it.
i hate the world, i hate the people around me, i hate my friends, every facial expression, every sentence, word, nuance, torn down and sifted, looking... looking for more reasons to push them away.
cos i dont need anyone.
hatred... not something im accustomed to, it sits there, not feeling anything, just a lump of nothing, void around it. i can feel my chest rising and falling with every breath, my heart beating and then, nothing, just this nothing, at the centre of me... i can only feel its persence by its absence.
i can feel anger, deep within, wanting to lash out at everyone, pushing everyone away and i stumble with my words, not knowing what to say to people, my eyes drift and darts, not connecting with anyone... i am an animal, hypnotised by this angry hatred within, like the headlights of an oncoming vehicle... i am caught in its thrall, helpless, consumed, driven.
i cant stop it... i can feel the walls closing me in and i cant stop it... torn, afraid, knowing it is for the better and no, no... no... i dont want it.
i hate the world, i hate the people around me, i hate my friends, every facial expression, every sentence, word, nuance, torn down and sifted, looking... looking for more reasons to push them away.
cos i dont need anyone.
17.7.02
i ask myself, who's the one who's changed... is it me, or is it u? have i changed because u did so? yes... that must be it, that must be why, i dont feel anything like home in me, just this cavity where u used to be.
perhaps it is some plan of yours? if so, yes, u've succeeded, i cant imagine ever having loved u. oh yes, succeeded indeed, i cant imagine having shared myself with u. a life? no, that cant be right... a future? really? have we ever contemplated that? did we ever sit under the stars, overlook the city lights and pour our hearts out? surly this wasnt real, surly... surly it must have meant something if it was, indeed, real. were we lovers, or just dreamers? was that a dream and is this a wake now?
have i felt the touch of your lips, have i stroked your face and brushed aside stray hair as u sleep? i recall that vaguely... i recall all that, and looking at your closed eyes, your nose flaring as u breathed.
no... this cant be right... i remember making love to someone with hunger in her eyes, i remember looking into her eyes as we fitted so perfectly snug together, oblivious to time, light moving across the floor, striping our bodies and then we slept, and we woke and loved more; looped... was that you? surly u jest, surly... it had to be someone else... no, not you.
i remember feeling... something so big; so great and grander than me, than the physical, my chest cant hold it in and i cant breathe... and i remember telling someone im trying to, but im sorry, i am so sorry, because i cannot tell u how it feels, i cannot explain this beauty and all i have were these three words:
i love you
and they are not enough, they could not begin to connote... how could they, when my heart cant even contain what i felt?
i remember feeling like that once... and it seems, it was just a prelude to this afterall. it seems that is the lesson... to change and not be the fool no more... dont feel, dont love, dont share. it is quite amazing how much power to hurt a person has, when he or she is loved; that i know now. and it seems its true too, an advice given in a time past... always hold a bit of yourself back.
never is too long and no...
every single time
we touch
u leave
me
dead.
perhaps it is some plan of yours? if so, yes, u've succeeded, i cant imagine ever having loved u. oh yes, succeeded indeed, i cant imagine having shared myself with u. a life? no, that cant be right... a future? really? have we ever contemplated that? did we ever sit under the stars, overlook the city lights and pour our hearts out? surly this wasnt real, surly... surly it must have meant something if it was, indeed, real. were we lovers, or just dreamers? was that a dream and is this a wake now?
have i felt the touch of your lips, have i stroked your face and brushed aside stray hair as u sleep? i recall that vaguely... i recall all that, and looking at your closed eyes, your nose flaring as u breathed.
no... this cant be right... i remember making love to someone with hunger in her eyes, i remember looking into her eyes as we fitted so perfectly snug together, oblivious to time, light moving across the floor, striping our bodies and then we slept, and we woke and loved more; looped... was that you? surly u jest, surly... it had to be someone else... no, not you.
i remember feeling... something so big; so great and grander than me, than the physical, my chest cant hold it in and i cant breathe... and i remember telling someone im trying to, but im sorry, i am so sorry, because i cannot tell u how it feels, i cannot explain this beauty and all i have were these three words:
i love you
and they are not enough, they could not begin to connote... how could they, when my heart cant even contain what i felt?
i remember feeling like that once... and it seems, it was just a prelude to this afterall. it seems that is the lesson... to change and not be the fool no more... dont feel, dont love, dont share. it is quite amazing how much power to hurt a person has, when he or she is loved; that i know now. and it seems its true too, an advice given in a time past... always hold a bit of yourself back.
never is too long and no...
every single time
we touch
u leave
me
dead.
6.7.02
twisted, funk, groove, breaks, beats, basslines... throw them into a bowl, pound them with a pestle, grind them with the twists of your wrist, spread out the paste...
...the space which the absence of sound occupies
where empty speaks volumes and all the itsy bitsy twisted beats in between and not, implied.
just sits there in the space they so distinctly occupy, weaving into the basslines, and aloof.
two masters at work, each doing his thing the only way he knows how to, two different sounds so distinctly individual and so comfortably at home coming out of the same set of speakers. it is a rare sight tonight, to bear witness to two djs with such amazing synery, so interchangably playing decks, another playing efx and more often than not, arms reaching across each other to add that touch of individuality to what the other is doing. the unspoken trust and communion between these two, the lack of ego, synergistic, symbiotic... they feed off each other like opposing twins in a womb, and we are privileged with a gestation which is greater than its parts, defined by the two and yet, wholly defiant of them.
the sounds take on a life of their own, teased, seduced, spat out of the speakers... sounds cohesive and yet, so interchangable, like building blocks of sound; taken from their rightful place, moved, shifted by the chunks and beats and placed into new slots of time stretched out...
...the space which the absence of sound occupies, sprinkled with beats and groove...
is where tyrant is at.
...the space which the absence of sound occupies
where empty speaks volumes and all the itsy bitsy twisted beats in between and not, implied.
just sits there in the space they so distinctly occupy, weaving into the basslines, and aloof.
two masters at work, each doing his thing the only way he knows how to, two different sounds so distinctly individual and so comfortably at home coming out of the same set of speakers. it is a rare sight tonight, to bear witness to two djs with such amazing synery, so interchangably playing decks, another playing efx and more often than not, arms reaching across each other to add that touch of individuality to what the other is doing. the unspoken trust and communion between these two, the lack of ego, synergistic, symbiotic... they feed off each other like opposing twins in a womb, and we are privileged with a gestation which is greater than its parts, defined by the two and yet, wholly defiant of them.
the sounds take on a life of their own, teased, seduced, spat out of the speakers... sounds cohesive and yet, so interchangable, like building blocks of sound; taken from their rightful place, moved, shifted by the chunks and beats and placed into new slots of time stretched out...
...the space which the absence of sound occupies, sprinkled with beats and groove...
is where tyrant is at.
5.7.02
is it me or are people too caught up in their own little worlds to live? seems like the daily grind is getting everyone down and i am sure, one day sooner than later, i will be a victim too. it is somewhat depressing to see my friends turn into the drones they are now, chained at the ankle to huge iron balls of mediocrity. i think... i have had no cause to hate this place except seeing what it is turning my friends into.
a friend once quoted another person, saying "work decays the soul".
i beg to differ.
mundanity decays the soul.
a friend once quoted another person, saying "work decays the soul".
i beg to differ.
mundanity decays the soul.
30.6.02
u know the beat
u know the groove
locking u into it
oh u know what im talking about
that zone
the strings/the melodies/the ambience
bringing ur mind to another place
drifting
exploring
adventurers of the antipode
ur body moving with
a will of its own
u're not in
control
oh no let it go
ur heart knows where its at
ur body recognises
the groove
oh yeah the groove, baby, let it go
let it go...
feel it
the basslines
overwhelm u, big fat
did i say fat? phat!
twisted/droning/rolling
the beats
sharp/succinct/slice
dice/drawn/quatered
im losing my mind, are u
the strings
scintillating/titillating
oh yeah, close ur eyes, feel ur mind
shudders/shivers/tingles
the build
anticipating/beating/pounding
ur heart, baby, can u feel it?
faster frenzied madness
and then
it breaks
like a wave
a trough
rolling/crashing/sinking
it draws u in
it drags u under
u're lost
so lost and yet, never been so there
u know?
yes u know what im saying
u feel it
oh yeah
just
let
go
feel it
soak it
up
move
u know the groove
locking u into it
oh u know what im talking about
that zone
the strings/the melodies/the ambience
bringing ur mind to another place
drifting
exploring
adventurers of the antipode
ur body moving with
a will of its own
u're not in
control
oh no let it go
ur heart knows where its at
ur body recognises
the groove
oh yeah the groove, baby, let it go
let it go...
feel it
the basslines
overwhelm u, big fat
did i say fat? phat!
twisted/droning/rolling
the beats
sharp/succinct/slice
dice/drawn/quatered
im losing my mind, are u
the strings
scintillating/titillating
oh yeah, close ur eyes, feel ur mind
shudders/shivers/tingles
the build
anticipating/beating/pounding
ur heart, baby, can u feel it?
faster frenzied madness
and then
it breaks
like a wave
a trough
rolling/crashing/sinking
it draws u in
it drags u under
u're lost
so lost and yet, never been so there
u know?
yes u know what im saying
u feel it
oh yeah
just
let
go
feel it
soak it
up
move
im trying to write something tonight, but the words dont come so im just gonna tell it straight; it's all a mess so bad i cant pin down the turmoil within. and im afraid of pinning it down, its there but im kinda trying to sidestep it... afraid if i pin it down, if i name it, whatever, nothing, void, it, takes form and overwhelms me.
does that make sense?
as these things go... this is about a girl. and we've all heard the stories many times over and we've seen it all in the movies.
but this is my story, and u dont have to read this.
this is about a girl... with the biggest eyes i can float in. the impish smile with the twinkle and one dimple. she had long and the straightest hair... with bands of corvette red through it, which went with my cherry red, goatee, that is, but no more.
this is about a girl... the light in my world, the good in my world; how do i explain it? she made it all worthwhile. sha made me live instead of just breathe. she made my heart sing when i have the worst voice ever.
this is about a girl... i walked the streets with, looking up at apartments; wondering at people's lives.
i cant write this anymore, i dont know why i started... its not helping, its doing shit for me frankly speaking. im here fucked, trying to hold everything back and she's probably sleeping right now. funny how we think our sufferings are all so unique and noone ever understands... that's what's going through my head and i really dunno what im doing, i can feel it all slipping away; what i started with is gone and i am left with nothing... cept the bitterness and im trying so hard not to hate but i do and im trying trying trying to hold it back cos we all know and i know i shouldn't be giving into that.
this is about the girl... my soulmate if u will, though that begs the question... if she's not with me now, does that void the soulmate status? if we're no longer sharing, does that mean we were never meant to be? and now im doing my own head in.
this is about the girl... i spoke with, about buying furniture, about having pets and no, she doesnt like to have children.
this is about the girl... whom i shared music with, and that should be enough to indicate what she meant.
this is about the girl... i remember sitting with, looking out over the city lights, telling me, she's not afraid anymore.
this is about the girl... who told me she doesnt feel for anything, anyone, anymore.
she lost it
and i have not
so where the fuck does that leave me?
right here.
does that make sense?
as these things go... this is about a girl. and we've all heard the stories many times over and we've seen it all in the movies.
but this is my story, and u dont have to read this.
this is about a girl... with the biggest eyes i can float in. the impish smile with the twinkle and one dimple. she had long and the straightest hair... with bands of corvette red through it, which went with my cherry red, goatee, that is, but no more.
this is about a girl... the light in my world, the good in my world; how do i explain it? she made it all worthwhile. sha made me live instead of just breathe. she made my heart sing when i have the worst voice ever.
this is about a girl... i walked the streets with, looking up at apartments; wondering at people's lives.
i cant write this anymore, i dont know why i started... its not helping, its doing shit for me frankly speaking. im here fucked, trying to hold everything back and she's probably sleeping right now. funny how we think our sufferings are all so unique and noone ever understands... that's what's going through my head and i really dunno what im doing, i can feel it all slipping away; what i started with is gone and i am left with nothing... cept the bitterness and im trying so hard not to hate but i do and im trying trying trying to hold it back cos we all know and i know i shouldn't be giving into that.
this is about the girl... my soulmate if u will, though that begs the question... if she's not with me now, does that void the soulmate status? if we're no longer sharing, does that mean we were never meant to be? and now im doing my own head in.
this is about the girl... i spoke with, about buying furniture, about having pets and no, she doesnt like to have children.
this is about the girl... whom i shared music with, and that should be enough to indicate what she meant.
this is about the girl... i remember sitting with, looking out over the city lights, telling me, she's not afraid anymore.
this is about the girl... who told me she doesnt feel for anything, anyone, anymore.
she lost it
and i have not
so where the fuck does that leave me?
right here.
25.6.02
24.6.02
20.6.02
bouyant
floating
arms leaden
thighs achen
chest tighten
i cant see
thoughts
words
flotsam
i cant think
bouyant
floating
dark
hot
viscous
dont know
where to
go
go
go
just go
somewhere/anywhere
action/reaction
pull/push
life/death
happiness/sadness
go
go
go
im trying so hard
if only i knew
what was
wrong
right
i would fix it
fix
fix
fix
i need a high
so high
i dont feel
i dont think
just high
please
where am i
i dont belong here
not there
i exist
in this moment
of time
uncomprehending
unknowing
just get me high
so it all falls away
please.
floating
arms leaden
thighs achen
chest tighten
i cant see
thoughts
words
flotsam
i cant think
bouyant
floating
dark
hot
viscous
dont know
where to
go
go
go
just go
somewhere/anywhere
action/reaction
pull/push
life/death
happiness/sadness
go
go
go
im trying so hard
if only i knew
what was
wrong
right
i would fix it
fix
fix
fix
i need a high
so high
i dont feel
i dont think
just high
please
where am i
i dont belong here
not there
i exist
in this moment
of time
uncomprehending
unknowing
just get me high
so it all falls away
please.
im 3 days home and im regretting it already. the heat is sweltering, it drains and saps at me like an omnipresent leech, feeding off me. im feeling down and i dont really know why... is it the lack of my 5htp supplementation? i had thought perhaps... i'd be happy enough to be back home to not require them, but no.
i dont want to be here anymore than i want to be back there.
as usual, lost and drifting, my life.
i cant even focus enough to write something as much as i would like to express it... and there's no one i can tell this to who would understand, without receiving some patronising sympathies in response.
fuck that.
no one would understand what is in my head right now, as much as they think or profess to... how can they when i dont even know what is going on inside? i need some physicality, some form of action to distract myself... and i think to myself, i wished i could be intoxicated and then wake up to something else, anything else.
give me something to believe in again.
i dont want to be here anymore than i want to be back there.
as usual, lost and drifting, my life.
i cant even focus enough to write something as much as i would like to express it... and there's no one i can tell this to who would understand, without receiving some patronising sympathies in response.
fuck that.
no one would understand what is in my head right now, as much as they think or profess to... how can they when i dont even know what is going on inside? i need some physicality, some form of action to distract myself... and i think to myself, i wished i could be intoxicated and then wake up to something else, anything else.
give me something to believe in again.
16.6.02
i lean against the pole
under the shelter
on a cold winter night
arms akimbo
i look infront of me
a lady
dark skinned
lined face
shawl around her head
leapord print jacket swaddled
what has she seen?
that marked her face so
hardship in her eyes
why was she alone
on this cold winter night?
i wonder about her family
a man
olive skinned
an accent
a tight jacket with frills
long limbed
pointy shoes
i gave him the time
wondering
where he is partying tonight
i hope he didnt miss his tram
a girl
in a chequed jacket
fair skinned
framed by silky black hair
legs crossed
one foot shaking
i dont like that
enraptured
lit screen of her cellular
highlighting her eyes
fingers tapping
an sms
to a boyfriend waiting?
a man
immaculately dressed
well groomed
turtle necked
peeking out of a blazer
hand gripping
a briefcase
sleek
i like it
i lit his ciggerate
he looks at and thanks me
i smiled
he looks at me again
walked away
and i looked after him
wondering
about his job
on a late saturday night
i looked to my right
a couple
asian
speaking in my mother tongue
a language i should know
but i dont
the boy is looking
not at her
the girl is pleading
hugs him
he looks not at her
wondering
will they work it out?
i hope so
been there
i look to my left
across the tracks
a man
chin touching his chest
grizzled beard
running down his torso
he shuffles
muttering to himself
sometimes leaning like me
hands cupped
around a hot drink
i see him everyday
same spot
same clothes
arms akimbo
on a cold winter night
under the shelter
i leaned againt the pole
at the tram stop
at a traffic junction
a stopover of sorts
a crossroad of sorts
and i wonder
about
the secret lives of us
under the shelter
on a cold winter night
arms akimbo
i look infront of me
a lady
dark skinned
lined face
shawl around her head
leapord print jacket swaddled
what has she seen?
that marked her face so
hardship in her eyes
why was she alone
on this cold winter night?
i wonder about her family
a man
olive skinned
an accent
a tight jacket with frills
long limbed
pointy shoes
i gave him the time
wondering
where he is partying tonight
i hope he didnt miss his tram
a girl
in a chequed jacket
fair skinned
framed by silky black hair
legs crossed
one foot shaking
i dont like that
enraptured
lit screen of her cellular
highlighting her eyes
fingers tapping
an sms
to a boyfriend waiting?
a man
immaculately dressed
well groomed
turtle necked
peeking out of a blazer
hand gripping
a briefcase
sleek
i like it
i lit his ciggerate
he looks at and thanks me
i smiled
he looks at me again
walked away
and i looked after him
wondering
about his job
on a late saturday night
i looked to my right
a couple
asian
speaking in my mother tongue
a language i should know
but i dont
the boy is looking
not at her
the girl is pleading
hugs him
he looks not at her
wondering
will they work it out?
i hope so
been there
i look to my left
across the tracks
a man
chin touching his chest
grizzled beard
running down his torso
he shuffles
muttering to himself
sometimes leaning like me
hands cupped
around a hot drink
i see him everyday
same spot
same clothes
arms akimbo
on a cold winter night
under the shelter
i leaned againt the pole
at the tram stop
at a traffic junction
a stopover of sorts
a crossroad of sorts
and i wonder
about
the secret lives of us
mara soundsystem
what a night at sunny... imagine the setting if u will: a room all dark with hardly any "club" lights, smoke, lasers, projections... and one spotlight shining upon, not the duo, but the decks, lighting up the wispy tendrils of smoke curling around the console.
add to that, a roomful of people full of the vibe only an overseas crowd, vibe, and drugs can fuel. up for anything, anything goes.
electrifying.
i found my dancing feet again last night.
the night started off with an eclectic progressive set from gavin kietel and then handing over to gab oliver. gab played his usual deep/dark/atmospheric set which wasnt going anywhere unfortunately and i was set to chill out on the bed for the rest of the night.
mara came on after, which i dragged myself off the bed for. after a night of lethargy, took a while to get into the groove. was standing on the steps just bobbing my head. barry mixed and sarah oversaw the effects. an onslought of hollow basslines, hard sharp beats and groove proceeded. on hindsight, the set almost reminded me of the pappa experience, but funkier. they maintained the energy very well, with intermittent troughs but easily picking up the pace again with the follow-on tracks. there i was, body locked in the groove, feet flying to the beats, arms flailing to the basslines... and just when i decided to myself they rocked, sarah took the platform behind the decks, proceeding to sway and sing ontop of what barry was playing. imagine the sillouette: barry with his headphones, bent over the decks, occassionally waving his arms and jumping, hyping up the dancefloor further, his wife dancing and singing into a mike behind and above him. her soaring housey vocals overlaying the tough driving beats, at times, standing out amidst the bass drops and ambient breakdown of some tracks. sometimes envelope by the effects that travelled the speakers surrounding the room.
a very interesting and unique experience, with the effects merging with the tracks rather than detracting from them, sarah's singing... it bridged and hybridised the typical dj set and a live performance.
if getting the crowd to move is any indication of how good the performance was, my feet gave them two toes up.
the afterparty saw mara and a chaotic mass of people converging on someone's house and everyone proceeded to get fucked further. caught up with dave at sunny and chatted with the duo at the afterparty about their music, their experiences, the singapore scene, progressive sounds in general and where they saw it going.
"its my life!" -sarah, when asked by a friend what music is to her.
given a crowd, mara can easily whip them up into a frenzy. they are stopping by tokyo after leaving melbourne on friday and i am fairly certain the techno-oriented scene in japan would love their sound.
that is all.
what a night at sunny... imagine the setting if u will: a room all dark with hardly any "club" lights, smoke, lasers, projections... and one spotlight shining upon, not the duo, but the decks, lighting up the wispy tendrils of smoke curling around the console.
add to that, a roomful of people full of the vibe only an overseas crowd, vibe, and drugs can fuel. up for anything, anything goes.
electrifying.
i found my dancing feet again last night.
the night started off with an eclectic progressive set from gavin kietel and then handing over to gab oliver. gab played his usual deep/dark/atmospheric set which wasnt going anywhere unfortunately and i was set to chill out on the bed for the rest of the night.
mara came on after, which i dragged myself off the bed for. after a night of lethargy, took a while to get into the groove. was standing on the steps just bobbing my head. barry mixed and sarah oversaw the effects. an onslought of hollow basslines, hard sharp beats and groove proceeded. on hindsight, the set almost reminded me of the pappa experience, but funkier. they maintained the energy very well, with intermittent troughs but easily picking up the pace again with the follow-on tracks. there i was, body locked in the groove, feet flying to the beats, arms flailing to the basslines... and just when i decided to myself they rocked, sarah took the platform behind the decks, proceeding to sway and sing ontop of what barry was playing. imagine the sillouette: barry with his headphones, bent over the decks, occassionally waving his arms and jumping, hyping up the dancefloor further, his wife dancing and singing into a mike behind and above him. her soaring housey vocals overlaying the tough driving beats, at times, standing out amidst the bass drops and ambient breakdown of some tracks. sometimes envelope by the effects that travelled the speakers surrounding the room.
a very interesting and unique experience, with the effects merging with the tracks rather than detracting from them, sarah's singing... it bridged and hybridised the typical dj set and a live performance.
if getting the crowd to move is any indication of how good the performance was, my feet gave them two toes up.
the afterparty saw mara and a chaotic mass of people converging on someone's house and everyone proceeded to get fucked further. caught up with dave at sunny and chatted with the duo at the afterparty about their music, their experiences, the singapore scene, progressive sounds in general and where they saw it going.
"its my life!" -sarah, when asked by a friend what music is to her.
given a crowd, mara can easily whip them up into a frenzy. they are stopping by tokyo after leaving melbourne on friday and i am fairly certain the techno-oriented scene in japan would love their sound.
that is all.
14.6.02
seeing that nose
those eyes
that smile
that shy smile
with your head
tilted to your side
that tentative smile
venturing
uncertain
feeling your lips
so soft
hearing your voice
smiling
i touch you again
in my heart
in a time past
i hold you again
in my mind
memories past
my heart stops
my mind reels
my body yearns
my eyes
searching
wishing
hoping
i smiled
and did
what i wanted a month ago
i gave you the set of hairpins
those eyes
that smile
that shy smile
with your head
tilted to your side
that tentative smile
venturing
uncertain
feeling your lips
so soft
hearing your voice
smiling
i touch you again
in my heart
in a time past
i hold you again
in my mind
memories past
my heart stops
my mind reels
my body yearns
my eyes
searching
wishing
hoping
i smiled
and did
what i wanted a month ago
i gave you the set of hairpins
11.6.02
10.6.02
creamer/jamieson/foort/trance, a current state of affairs
well.... im still a bit fucked so this will be brief.
jamieson left no impression on me, unfortunately... played deep and dark, just like another dj out there at the moment, nothing stood out; which is very unfortunate considering his works as evolution... and he didnt even play their latest release, walking on fire...
...which brings me to foort, he was the one who actually dropped that... foort was pretty banging... touch and go...
...now creamer, WOW, im impressed... very nice, tasty track selection, dropped a very very nice remix of marscarter which i havent heard b4... maybe creamer's own remix? he was playing some tribal, but not boring progressive, more like, tribal with a lot of spacey, ambient sounds... very impressive tribal set... and he dropped jv - into the blue i think, last track, beautiful.
so... that's the short summary of the night, nothing else to report, cept the crowd was probably one of the sleaziest i've ever seen, and
****this deserves a section on its own****
every single time i hear it, it further reaffirms my conviction that today's trance SUCKS, it should've died a natural death with dignity in the yesteryears, rather than whoever-fuck-makes-the-music milk it for all its worth. its DEAD, get over it, TRANCE IS DEAD.
the only good trance i expect to hear are from the old days, and certain progressive tracks today incorporating the sound, very good example is the rob and skinner remix of nash-t - the dark (deep, dark, with a nice touch of trance in it... this is the only track i've heard recently which emodies this "dark trance" (can i copyright that phrase b4 it catches on?) sound). trance as *I* know it can only survive as being incorporated into other forms of music, trance as a genre today is akin to squeezing blood out of a rock.
yes... that is my rant on the current state of trance... tonight's event was a trance night, the aforementioned djs all played in the progressive side room... i stepped momentarily into the main room, firstly got disoriented by how big the room was, by the lights... and when i adjusted to the surroundings, the music hit me in its blatant obscenity, it was so fucking boring and predictable, i could've written the track if i had a sound engineer to work with.... what was mind bogglingly amazing was the number of people dancing to it.
yes i am a bigot, yes i am arrogant, now that we got that cleared up and out of the way, let me continue my rant (this post is turning out longer than i thought... damn verbal diarrhoea/introspection... if only i studied this in school, i can fucking do my essays on comedowns!)... usually i try to be open to different forms of music... they're all sounds to me, put together in a coherently pleasing manner, but the shite i heard... as much as i try, i cannot accept it AT ALL, it is a fucking affront to my ears... if i was a music nazi, i would round up all these producers and have them shot. stop contaminating these people, these sheep! stop misleading them! surly these people cannot be so deaf as to accept it... surly, i would like to believe, these people are simply not enlightened, surly they would come around if only someone could show them what is out there, without the narrow confines of predictable drum rolls, snyth riffs.
the trance of yesteryears had a grace to it, it had melody, it had some fucking self-respect... what we have today, what i heard last night, was as blatant a manipulation of human superficial emotions as any top 40s pop tune.
sorry for the rant, sorry if i offended any trance lovers in particular, i know owen still likes his trance but im sure he would have to agree with the arguments i have put out.
TRANCE IS DEAD.
unless someone can seriously prove me wrong, that is all i have to rant regarding this issue... this is my final word on the genre which has introduced the majority of us to electronic music, to which we all had a certain affinity for, to which i still get the tingles to.
well.... im still a bit fucked so this will be brief.
jamieson left no impression on me, unfortunately... played deep and dark, just like another dj out there at the moment, nothing stood out; which is very unfortunate considering his works as evolution... and he didnt even play their latest release, walking on fire...
...which brings me to foort, he was the one who actually dropped that... foort was pretty banging... touch and go...
...now creamer, WOW, im impressed... very nice, tasty track selection, dropped a very very nice remix of marscarter which i havent heard b4... maybe creamer's own remix? he was playing some tribal, but not boring progressive, more like, tribal with a lot of spacey, ambient sounds... very impressive tribal set... and he dropped jv - into the blue i think, last track, beautiful.
so... that's the short summary of the night, nothing else to report, cept the crowd was probably one of the sleaziest i've ever seen, and
****this deserves a section on its own****
every single time i hear it, it further reaffirms my conviction that today's trance SUCKS, it should've died a natural death with dignity in the yesteryears, rather than whoever-fuck-makes-the-music milk it for all its worth. its DEAD, get over it, TRANCE IS DEAD.
the only good trance i expect to hear are from the old days, and certain progressive tracks today incorporating the sound, very good example is the rob and skinner remix of nash-t - the dark (deep, dark, with a nice touch of trance in it... this is the only track i've heard recently which emodies this "dark trance" (can i copyright that phrase b4 it catches on?) sound). trance as *I* know it can only survive as being incorporated into other forms of music, trance as a genre today is akin to squeezing blood out of a rock.
yes... that is my rant on the current state of trance... tonight's event was a trance night, the aforementioned djs all played in the progressive side room... i stepped momentarily into the main room, firstly got disoriented by how big the room was, by the lights... and when i adjusted to the surroundings, the music hit me in its blatant obscenity, it was so fucking boring and predictable, i could've written the track if i had a sound engineer to work with.... what was mind bogglingly amazing was the number of people dancing to it.
yes i am a bigot, yes i am arrogant, now that we got that cleared up and out of the way, let me continue my rant (this post is turning out longer than i thought... damn verbal diarrhoea/introspection... if only i studied this in school, i can fucking do my essays on comedowns!)... usually i try to be open to different forms of music... they're all sounds to me, put together in a coherently pleasing manner, but the shite i heard... as much as i try, i cannot accept it AT ALL, it is a fucking affront to my ears... if i was a music nazi, i would round up all these producers and have them shot. stop contaminating these people, these sheep! stop misleading them! surly these people cannot be so deaf as to accept it... surly, i would like to believe, these people are simply not enlightened, surly they would come around if only someone could show them what is out there, without the narrow confines of predictable drum rolls, snyth riffs.
the trance of yesteryears had a grace to it, it had melody, it had some fucking self-respect... what we have today, what i heard last night, was as blatant a manipulation of human superficial emotions as any top 40s pop tune.
sorry for the rant, sorry if i offended any trance lovers in particular, i know owen still likes his trance but im sure he would have to agree with the arguments i have put out.
TRANCE IS DEAD.
unless someone can seriously prove me wrong, that is all i have to rant regarding this issue... this is my final word on the genre which has introduced the majority of us to electronic music, to which we all had a certain affinity for, to which i still get the tingles to.
3.6.02
31.5.02
House Sucks (Pessimistic Conclusion)
Now we've let the DJ Become a superstar, have we stopped listening to the music?
We have DJs who are so famous that we'd go crazy for their first record even if it was utter rubbish. We have DJs who let the club tell them what to play. We have personality DJs who can draw a crowd even though they're crap. Porno DJs who hve someone else to put on their tunes. Novelty jocks. Ex-boxers as DJs, soccer heroes behind the decks, washed-up pop stars desperate for new credibility. DJs who are shit but they've got a record in the charts.
We go to superclubs that only exists to support a lucrative brand name so that a company run by people who don't dance can make millions from T-shirts, compilation CDs and alcohol and tobacco sponsorship. We listen to a few big-name DJs on the radio and let them totally rule our tastes. when their name's on a mix album we trust it without thinking and rush out to buy it. The DJ is a corporate whore.
The DJ has chopped and mixed and mergd every kind of music until there's no chance of a "next big thing". All we can expect is the next remix, a variation of a theme. And the music is so effective now, especially when consumed with drugs, that no one cares whether it's actually any good. It's just an infallible, Pavlovian technology of pleasure. At the end of the seventies people decided "disco sucks"; at the end of the nineties, house, trance, garage... SUCKS! (techno and drum'n'bass are just boring). The only difference is we haven't notice how much it sucks yet, because the commercial club industry has got us in the palm of its hand. As long as it gets me throwing my fists in the air with my eyes glued shut on my Friday night podium, I dont give a fuck whether it has any artistic value.
Our precious, once-underground culture has been co-opted into a great mainstream capitalist hegemony.
Is going clubbing special anymore, or is it just like going to the pub?
The greatest success of dance culture is suppose to be that it now has acts who are at home playing American stadiums. But it's not a triumph for dance music to disguise itself as soemthing that's existed for 35 years or more. The Prodigy are just The Rolling Stones for a new generation. The record labels have just squeezed them into the rock-star rulebook so they can market them better. They'll go on tour when the album comes out. We'll all scream when they come onstage and the music biz is happy.
Dance revolution... Where?
Club culture was built on togetherness, on participation, equality, communion. When it works you shouldn't be able to tell the dancer from the dance. It was founded on the idea that the clubbers are the stars, not the short guy who fiddles with the record player. If we're on a dancefloor but we're all weatching the DJ, or if we're in an arena all looking at the stage, we are no longer doing what it's all about: we are once more an audience and no longer the event.
Dance culture has been completely stolen by the forces of commercialism.
OK?
Good.
That's the pessimistic conclusion over with.
The Global Underground (Optimistic Conclusion)
But the dialectic saves the day.
In dance music, there's always an underground.
This is at its most creative just after things have got horribly commercial.
The mainstream picks up on something, burns it up, and declares it dead. But meanwhile, pioneers have moved on and are free to push things further, to reclaim the momentum and come up with something new.
So rail about supercommercial club cultures all you like. It's all true, every pessimistic word, but it doesn't matter because there's always an underground, always something fresh on the horizon.
For every cheesy commecial DJ who's happy to play what the record pluggers send him, who charts records he doesn't like just so he stays on the mailing list, who plays records he hates because everyone else is playing them, and who has no problem with a club giving him "guidelines" on what and what not to play, there's another DJ who loves music, who searches out and buys records rather than just playing promotional freebies, who develops his own style, who throws his own parties, who generates his own following, who creates new music.
There'll always be an underground and it will always be filled with people who love music, not as a job but as the center piece to their life - even if manipulative drug pop seems to rule the day and even if most clubs are clogged with DJs who have abandoned their missionary zeal to return to the safe job of musical waiter. The exceptions are where the energy lies.
The fragmentation of dance music into scores of specialised genres is another reason for excitement. This works directly against the idea of of the superclub and the prostitute DJ, and can only encourage experimentation and creativity. You can bet sooner or later, out of these devious little scenes will come soemthing interesting, and inevitably something momentous. That's how we got disco, hip hop, house, and in recent years, that's how jungle emerged, and drum'n'bass, UK garage (speed garage), two-step, coastal breaks...
What's next? Who knows - all that's certain is that something somewhere is busy evolving, just like it's always done.
We spent the last forty years recording pop music, now we're gonna have incredible fun recycling it into any form we want. The band is dead, long live the DJ. No more waiting for the next big thing, let's look forward to the next amazing tweak, the next gut-wrenching new noise, the next unbelievbable collision of sampled sound.
And dance music is now truly international and internationalist. Musical possibilities have become global. The established centers of our story have splintered so much that the next great record might just as likely come from Norway as from New York. And with words losing out to the universal beat, we all speak the same language. French people cn finally make music that English people like. In fact you can bet that any really radical styles of dance music will emerge from somewhere truly bizarre, far away from the intense scrutiny of the dance media and the commentators who swoop on anything novel before it has a chance to spread its wings.
Abetting this dramatic crashing of borders is the rise of the Internet as a force for musical distribution. If house music was the fufilment o the do it yourself punk ethos, then netcasting and clever compression formats like MP3 take things even further. The means of music production have long been in the hands of the masses; now we have the means of distribution too, and record companies - who were only ever banks stupid enough to lend money to musicians - are redundant. Any DJ can create a global community of listeners on the Net. Djs in a club in New York can play to the dancefloor of a club in London. A DJ can make music in his own home, transmit it to another DJ across the world, who can press it himself onto a CD and play it when he does on in a club in Singapore in a couple of hours.
The Buzz Remains
The disc jockey has been with us for almost a century now. In that time he has been ignored, misunderstood, despised, worshipped and adored. He has stayed in the forefront of music, twisting and shaping it into fresh forms, perverting technology and forcing from it stunning new sounds. He has conjured a long series of novel genres in his endless search for material to keep his dancers moving. In the US the DJ created amazing music, then the UK gave him a home and made him a star. He continued his magic and around him there grew a musical culture more revolutionary and more enduring than any before.
After the 1988 summer of love, kids in Britain were finally enjoying the transcendent rituals on which the US evolution of dance music had been based. They finally understood the real power of a DJ, and in large numbers. Now, having conquered Europe and much of the southern hemisphere, the music is spreading back across the Atlantic. Having forged music more truly universal than any preceding it, the DJ is arguably a conduit for celebration and communion on a global scale. It's possible that the DJ is the ultimate expression of the ancient shamanic role; that the DJ is the greatest witchdoctor there has ever been, unmatched at shaking us out of the drudge of the day and into the life of the night.
Why do we worship at the knees of the record-slinger? Because he is occasionally capable of divinity. When it all connects in a club, there's nowhere you can have more fun.
"A really great DJ is totally capable of making a bad record sound okay, a good record sound great, and a great record sound fantastic - by the context they put them in, and what they put around them. How they steer them. They can do all kinds of tricks. A great DJ can make people spontaneously cheer just for a little squelchy noise. Which is quite insane really. A little noise like "wha-wha-wha" and people go, "Yeeeaah!" They can have people clapping along to a cymbal, just by the way they're bringing it in. When it's done well, it's fantastic. If it's done really well, it can be quite transcendental."
It's a mystical art indeed. It seems so banal, but it holds the potential of phenomenal, inexpressable power. A great DJ can arouse more raw emotion in his audience than the composer of the most bittersweet opera, or the author of the most uplifting novel, or the director of the most life-affirming film.
When you're DJing and you're great at it, you're not playing records, you're playing the dancefloor. You're not just mixing tunes, you're mixing energy and emotions, mixing from surprise into hope and happiness, cutting from liberation to ecstacy to love. When it goes right, you're inside the bodies of everyone in the room, you know what they're feeling and where they're going and you're taking them there. You're sweeping them off the earthly plane and transporting them to a higher place. You're moving their bodies and their souls with the music that flows from your fingertips.
You're putting them in the moment.
"Sweaty palms. Huge smiles. That kind of intenseness when you're in the zone, when you're in the box on your own. Oh my God! What's the next record? Frantically searching, making sure your instinct's right, changing your mind, then going back to your first choice, then ripping that out and putting it on at the last minute... and it works!
"And seeing people smiling.
"And singing.
"And going crazy."
[bill brewster and frank broughton - last night a dj saved my life]
Now we've let the DJ Become a superstar, have we stopped listening to the music?
We have DJs who are so famous that we'd go crazy for their first record even if it was utter rubbish. We have DJs who let the club tell them what to play. We have personality DJs who can draw a crowd even though they're crap. Porno DJs who hve someone else to put on their tunes. Novelty jocks. Ex-boxers as DJs, soccer heroes behind the decks, washed-up pop stars desperate for new credibility. DJs who are shit but they've got a record in the charts.
We go to superclubs that only exists to support a lucrative brand name so that a company run by people who don't dance can make millions from T-shirts, compilation CDs and alcohol and tobacco sponsorship. We listen to a few big-name DJs on the radio and let them totally rule our tastes. when their name's on a mix album we trust it without thinking and rush out to buy it. The DJ is a corporate whore.
The DJ has chopped and mixed and mergd every kind of music until there's no chance of a "next big thing". All we can expect is the next remix, a variation of a theme. And the music is so effective now, especially when consumed with drugs, that no one cares whether it's actually any good. It's just an infallible, Pavlovian technology of pleasure. At the end of the seventies people decided "disco sucks"; at the end of the nineties, house, trance, garage... SUCKS! (techno and drum'n'bass are just boring). The only difference is we haven't notice how much it sucks yet, because the commercial club industry has got us in the palm of its hand. As long as it gets me throwing my fists in the air with my eyes glued shut on my Friday night podium, I dont give a fuck whether it has any artistic value.
Our precious, once-underground culture has been co-opted into a great mainstream capitalist hegemony.
Is going clubbing special anymore, or is it just like going to the pub?
The greatest success of dance culture is suppose to be that it now has acts who are at home playing American stadiums. But it's not a triumph for dance music to disguise itself as soemthing that's existed for 35 years or more. The Prodigy are just The Rolling Stones for a new generation. The record labels have just squeezed them into the rock-star rulebook so they can market them better. They'll go on tour when the album comes out. We'll all scream when they come onstage and the music biz is happy.
Dance revolution... Where?
Club culture was built on togetherness, on participation, equality, communion. When it works you shouldn't be able to tell the dancer from the dance. It was founded on the idea that the clubbers are the stars, not the short guy who fiddles with the record player. If we're on a dancefloor but we're all weatching the DJ, or if we're in an arena all looking at the stage, we are no longer doing what it's all about: we are once more an audience and no longer the event.
Dance culture has been completely stolen by the forces of commercialism.
OK?
Good.
That's the pessimistic conclusion over with.
The Global Underground (Optimistic Conclusion)
But the dialectic saves the day.
In dance music, there's always an underground.
This is at its most creative just after things have got horribly commercial.
The mainstream picks up on something, burns it up, and declares it dead. But meanwhile, pioneers have moved on and are free to push things further, to reclaim the momentum and come up with something new.
So rail about supercommercial club cultures all you like. It's all true, every pessimistic word, but it doesn't matter because there's always an underground, always something fresh on the horizon.
For every cheesy commecial DJ who's happy to play what the record pluggers send him, who charts records he doesn't like just so he stays on the mailing list, who plays records he hates because everyone else is playing them, and who has no problem with a club giving him "guidelines" on what and what not to play, there's another DJ who loves music, who searches out and buys records rather than just playing promotional freebies, who develops his own style, who throws his own parties, who generates his own following, who creates new music.
There'll always be an underground and it will always be filled with people who love music, not as a job but as the center piece to their life - even if manipulative drug pop seems to rule the day and even if most clubs are clogged with DJs who have abandoned their missionary zeal to return to the safe job of musical waiter. The exceptions are where the energy lies.
The fragmentation of dance music into scores of specialised genres is another reason for excitement. This works directly against the idea of of the superclub and the prostitute DJ, and can only encourage experimentation and creativity. You can bet sooner or later, out of these devious little scenes will come soemthing interesting, and inevitably something momentous. That's how we got disco, hip hop, house, and in recent years, that's how jungle emerged, and drum'n'bass, UK garage (speed garage), two-step, coastal breaks...
What's next? Who knows - all that's certain is that something somewhere is busy evolving, just like it's always done.
We spent the last forty years recording pop music, now we're gonna have incredible fun recycling it into any form we want. The band is dead, long live the DJ. No more waiting for the next big thing, let's look forward to the next amazing tweak, the next gut-wrenching new noise, the next unbelievbable collision of sampled sound.
And dance music is now truly international and internationalist. Musical possibilities have become global. The established centers of our story have splintered so much that the next great record might just as likely come from Norway as from New York. And with words losing out to the universal beat, we all speak the same language. French people cn finally make music that English people like. In fact you can bet that any really radical styles of dance music will emerge from somewhere truly bizarre, far away from the intense scrutiny of the dance media and the commentators who swoop on anything novel before it has a chance to spread its wings.
Abetting this dramatic crashing of borders is the rise of the Internet as a force for musical distribution. If house music was the fufilment o the do it yourself punk ethos, then netcasting and clever compression formats like MP3 take things even further. The means of music production have long been in the hands of the masses; now we have the means of distribution too, and record companies - who were only ever banks stupid enough to lend money to musicians - are redundant. Any DJ can create a global community of listeners on the Net. Djs in a club in New York can play to the dancefloor of a club in London. A DJ can make music in his own home, transmit it to another DJ across the world, who can press it himself onto a CD and play it when he does on in a club in Singapore in a couple of hours.
The Buzz Remains
The disc jockey has been with us for almost a century now. In that time he has been ignored, misunderstood, despised, worshipped and adored. He has stayed in the forefront of music, twisting and shaping it into fresh forms, perverting technology and forcing from it stunning new sounds. He has conjured a long series of novel genres in his endless search for material to keep his dancers moving. In the US the DJ created amazing music, then the UK gave him a home and made him a star. He continued his magic and around him there grew a musical culture more revolutionary and more enduring than any before.
After the 1988 summer of love, kids in Britain were finally enjoying the transcendent rituals on which the US evolution of dance music had been based. They finally understood the real power of a DJ, and in large numbers. Now, having conquered Europe and much of the southern hemisphere, the music is spreading back across the Atlantic. Having forged music more truly universal than any preceding it, the DJ is arguably a conduit for celebration and communion on a global scale. It's possible that the DJ is the ultimate expression of the ancient shamanic role; that the DJ is the greatest witchdoctor there has ever been, unmatched at shaking us out of the drudge of the day and into the life of the night.
Why do we worship at the knees of the record-slinger? Because he is occasionally capable of divinity. When it all connects in a club, there's nowhere you can have more fun.
"A really great DJ is totally capable of making a bad record sound okay, a good record sound great, and a great record sound fantastic - by the context they put them in, and what they put around them. How they steer them. They can do all kinds of tricks. A great DJ can make people spontaneously cheer just for a little squelchy noise. Which is quite insane really. A little noise like "wha-wha-wha" and people go, "Yeeeaah!" They can have people clapping along to a cymbal, just by the way they're bringing it in. When it's done well, it's fantastic. If it's done really well, it can be quite transcendental."
It's a mystical art indeed. It seems so banal, but it holds the potential of phenomenal, inexpressable power. A great DJ can arouse more raw emotion in his audience than the composer of the most bittersweet opera, or the author of the most uplifting novel, or the director of the most life-affirming film.
When you're DJing and you're great at it, you're not playing records, you're playing the dancefloor. You're not just mixing tunes, you're mixing energy and emotions, mixing from surprise into hope and happiness, cutting from liberation to ecstacy to love. When it goes right, you're inside the bodies of everyone in the room, you know what they're feeling and where they're going and you're taking them there. You're sweeping them off the earthly plane and transporting them to a higher place. You're moving their bodies and their souls with the music that flows from your fingertips.
You're putting them in the moment.
"Sweaty palms. Huge smiles. That kind of intenseness when you're in the zone, when you're in the box on your own. Oh my God! What's the next record? Frantically searching, making sure your instinct's right, changing your mind, then going back to your first choice, then ripping that out and putting it on at the last minute... and it works!
"And seeing people smiling.
"And singing.
"And going crazy."
[bill brewster and frank broughton - last night a dj saved my life]
30.5.02
a phone call and im booked for the flight back to singapore. as usual i left it too late... something about these things, the human mind, or rather, mine, always seem to assume there's enough time or its never too late... says much about my character huh? procastination is a sublime art.
feeling quite chirpy today... i think thanks to the 5htp i took last night... well, i'll enjoy it while i can.
listening to tyrant 2... no words of mine are descriptive enough for the sounds in this compilation, trippy, dubby, twisted, fucked up, its all good. somehow... i always seem to play cd1 at a certain time in the day and when it comes to an end, the sun is setting outside my window, which complements the music beautifully... kinda funky, and yet whimsical... an ode to end of the day.
shall attempt to integrate with society tonight... hope it works.
feeling quite chirpy today... i think thanks to the 5htp i took last night... well, i'll enjoy it while i can.
listening to tyrant 2... no words of mine are descriptive enough for the sounds in this compilation, trippy, dubby, twisted, fucked up, its all good. somehow... i always seem to play cd1 at a certain time in the day and when it comes to an end, the sun is setting outside my window, which complements the music beautifully... kinda funky, and yet whimsical... an ode to end of the day.
shall attempt to integrate with society tonight... hope it works.
nothing like a bit of digweed to end the night with... my god...
pole folder - planetary activity -> tone depth - rumblefish -> porter + debo - deported... epic metallic synths/soaring strings/angry bass guitar -> tribal chant/percussion/stiring strings -> deep/dark/techy/subtle melody F U C K!!!!!!!!!!!!
digweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed *runs around screaming*
[digweed - welcome 2002 (pole folder - planetary activity)]
pole folder - planetary activity -> tone depth - rumblefish -> porter + debo - deported... epic metallic synths/soaring strings/angry bass guitar -> tribal chant/percussion/stiring strings -> deep/dark/techy/subtle melody
digweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed *runs around screaming*
[digweed - welcome 2002 (pole folder - planetary activity)]
29.5.02
sigh... here i am again... heart weighing heavy in my chest. a feeling so familiar, like a friend whom one is resigned with, and yet cant disown. are u sick of reading about this? cos i know im sick of blogging it down. unfortunately, i have nowhere else to turn to.
listening to mandalay - deep love again... its not helping to lift my spirit.
the plaintive voice stands out to me in its emotive powess.
sigh.
it doesnt look like my mood is going to improve.
listening to mandalay - deep love again... its not helping to lift my spirit.
the plaintive voice stands out to me in its emotive powess.
sigh.
it doesnt look like my mood is going to improve.
28.5.02
im feeling alright tonight... in part, thanks to a friend i've been chatting with pretty much the whole day cos its vesak day in singapore. and i've been reading someone's blog, kinda voyeuristic but its amusing and well written. she has a flair for writing, making everyday mundane happenings, while not a joy, but certainly captivating, involving. its quite odd though, delving into someone else's private life, and dangerous. i was telling myself not to read it.
listening to digweed again... another journey.... music is truly the steadfast companion, i am so grateful to appreciate music the way i do.
mandalay - deep love is up next... cant get enough of it, after reading the lyrics, the song just takes on another dimension. its beautiful, im a sucker for this emotive stuff. the deep mellow piano keys hit me first, almost reminding me of the title track to twin peaks heh. a hint of a flute... then this quiet voice sings. muffled kickdrum comes in, like a heart beat. how apt. she has the sweetest voice, almost classical if that means anything... and then the cymbals and high hats come in and the song soars, literally soars with her voice... and then takes a dip into the mellow again, sad violins... quiet, contented voice singing... god i love her voice. this song somehow embodies all the sadness and hope in love. i guess i identify with that... as much as i hate emotions, i know very well i still long to feel and be reciprocated, the damn paradoxes of being human.
time for some whiskey.
went to the gym tonight again. my forearms were killing me from grasping the bar to do my bicep curls. i would think with all these training i would be getting big, but no its not happening... probably fucked up genes eh.
im sidetracking... rambling random thoughts.
for the longest time... tonight, im feeling alone, whimsical, introspective, and yet, at peace, almost... almost. or am i resigned? is there such a thing? at peace with being sad? heh another paradox. but there is a quiet in me, a calm, so much so that i dont dare to disturb it, dont dare to agitate myself. its almost like there is an equilibrium there, a fine scale in balance and i am very afraid to tip it, because i know it will only tip one way.
and so i am looking for the right music, to keep my sanity for the night.
i am smoking a lot. it worries me when i look at the pack but i cant stop. i am not usually bothered with my smoking, but right now its obviously disturbing me and as i write, i feel like lighting up again.
starecase - faith (loafer mix) another vocal bomb, soaring vocals but with a housier tint unlike mandalay. almost gruff and husky, brusque perhaps. see the truth, all i see it, even if it brings me pain, i will go on... i find the joy i feel the beauty in all u bring to me just where i belong... i am... all i... need to... i am... all i... need to... find the faith heh one of them inspiring tracks.
that's what i am searching for, faith. not of the religious flavour... just faith... i think, perhaps, that's why i've been so empty, it's all gone, the faith. im looking for it, in myself, in people... i want to trust and love again, i want to be whole again the way i was... i want to feel again. how odd... an epiphany, and im not even on acid. the emptiness in me that overwhelms the sadness, i think, is the lack of faith... the emptiness kills me more than the sadness.
am i being pretencious? voicing all these messiness... well, too bad, its helping me to come to terms with myself, and if u(disclaimer: no one in particular ofcos, just whoever is reading) cant come to terms with it, fuck off, in the nicest way possible. heh.
whoa... internet connection just got cut... god damn it. damn it! here i was feeling relatively good for once and this shit has to happen, FUCK! right now, i can rip out the technician's throat for cutting off my connection to the world. fuck! the thought of being alone has suddenly become absolute. i am pissed off, very pissed off, to have my one good night fucked up by the inept australians. damn it.
damn it...
sigh.
whew... back online again, once more connected to the global village. i better post this while my connection is alive.
listening to digweed again... another journey.... music is truly the steadfast companion, i am so grateful to appreciate music the way i do.
mandalay - deep love is up next... cant get enough of it, after reading the lyrics, the song just takes on another dimension. its beautiful, im a sucker for this emotive stuff. the deep mellow piano keys hit me first, almost reminding me of the title track to twin peaks heh. a hint of a flute... then this quiet voice sings. muffled kickdrum comes in, like a heart beat. how apt. she has the sweetest voice, almost classical if that means anything... and then the cymbals and high hats come in and the song soars, literally soars with her voice... and then takes a dip into the mellow again, sad violins... quiet, contented voice singing... god i love her voice. this song somehow embodies all the sadness and hope in love. i guess i identify with that... as much as i hate emotions, i know very well i still long to feel and be reciprocated, the damn paradoxes of being human.
time for some whiskey.
went to the gym tonight again. my forearms were killing me from grasping the bar to do my bicep curls. i would think with all these training i would be getting big, but no its not happening... probably fucked up genes eh.
im sidetracking... rambling random thoughts.
for the longest time... tonight, im feeling alone, whimsical, introspective, and yet, at peace, almost... almost. or am i resigned? is there such a thing? at peace with being sad? heh another paradox. but there is a quiet in me, a calm, so much so that i dont dare to disturb it, dont dare to agitate myself. its almost like there is an equilibrium there, a fine scale in balance and i am very afraid to tip it, because i know it will only tip one way.
and so i am looking for the right music, to keep my sanity for the night.
i am smoking a lot. it worries me when i look at the pack but i cant stop. i am not usually bothered with my smoking, but right now its obviously disturbing me and as i write, i feel like lighting up again.
starecase - faith (loafer mix) another vocal bomb, soaring vocals but with a housier tint unlike mandalay. almost gruff and husky, brusque perhaps. see the truth, all i see it, even if it brings me pain, i will go on... i find the joy i feel the beauty in all u bring to me just where i belong... i am... all i... need to... i am... all i... need to... find the faith heh one of them inspiring tracks.
that's what i am searching for, faith. not of the religious flavour... just faith... i think, perhaps, that's why i've been so empty, it's all gone, the faith. im looking for it, in myself, in people... i want to trust and love again, i want to be whole again the way i was... i want to feel again. how odd... an epiphany, and im not even on acid. the emptiness in me that overwhelms the sadness, i think, is the lack of faith... the emptiness kills me more than the sadness.
am i being pretencious? voicing all these messiness... well, too bad, its helping me to come to terms with myself, and if u(disclaimer: no one in particular ofcos, just whoever is reading) cant come to terms with it, fuck off, in the nicest way possible. heh.
whoa... internet connection just got cut... god damn it. damn it! here i was feeling relatively good for once and this shit has to happen, FUCK! right now, i can rip out the technician's throat for cutting off my connection to the world. fuck! the thought of being alone has suddenly become absolute. i am pissed off, very pissed off, to have my one good night fucked up by the inept australians. damn it.
damn it...
sigh.
whew... back online again, once more connected to the global village. i better post this while my connection is alive.
27.5.02
memories of the night
heads bowed
touching
hands holding
touching
not alone
not alone
sharing
opening
share
you say you'll bring
tears course down my face
i falter
she holds me
brows furrowed
voice falters
she soothes me
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
the words come
the chest loosens
i breathe
the bridge forms
we walked together
share
you say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
[tonight's post brought to you courtesy of mandalay - deep love]
heads bowed
touching
hands holding
touching
not alone
not alone
sharing
opening
share
you say you'll bring
tears course down my face
i falter
she holds me
brows furrowed
voice falters
she soothes me
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
the words come
the chest loosens
i breathe
the bridge forms
we walked together
share
you say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
[tonight's post brought to you courtesy of mandalay - deep love]
now
i can trust you
now
as I feel at ease
how lost in you
should I be
now
i can see you
clear
as the day begins
how lost in this
should we be
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
now
as I touch you
here
as the day begins
how lost in this
should I be
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
....
share
you say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel ...
[mandalay - deep love]
i want to cry.
i can trust you
now
as I feel at ease
how lost in you
should I be
now
i can see you
clear
as the day begins
how lost in this
should we be
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
now
as I touch you
here
as the day begins
how lost in this
should I be
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
....
share
you say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
just don't say that it's too soon to say how you feel
share
and say you'll bring
to me deep love
you can't say that it's too soon to say how you feel ...
[mandalay - deep love]
i want to cry.
[190501 - 270502]
wow... i just realised, i have been blogging for a year now. that's... longer than i expected i'd be doing it for. so there u have it... a whole year of my life encapsulated on this website... a virtual timemachine indeed.
a retrospective might be in order... but whoever u are out there who has read this blog can, i am sure, sum it all up easily:
this dude is fucked.
yes... i believe a retrospective is due... but shall have to do that in the wee hours of the night when one gets more introspective and intoxicated.
however, as a friend has mentioned... kudos to the team at blog for providing this outlet.
wow... i just realised, i have been blogging for a year now
a retrospective might be in order... but whoever u are out there who has read this blog can, i am sure, sum it all up easily:
this dude is fucked.
yes... i believe a retrospective is due... but shall have to do that in the wee hours of the night when one gets more introspective and intoxicated.
however, as a friend has mentioned... kudos to the team at blog for providing this outlet.
listening to lee burridge's nubreed... it sounds much better putting it in context with tyrant 2. i guess i was too used to/expecting the typical progressive sounds of the GU staple.
saw truman show for the firs time tonight... the ending left much to be desired... and it left me down and empty.
hence the whiskey session at the moment.
i think i can say for sure now, i am emotionally unstable. i dont want to be like this, its tiring, its draining to say the least. i was fine today, went to the gym, went to the spa, went to the sauna... how much better can life get? and the truman show left me touched and empty.
sigh.
carpe diem.
that's what im trying to convince myself of now.
saw truman show for the firs time tonight... the ending left much to be desired... and it left me down and empty.
hence the whiskey session at the moment.
i think i can say for sure now, i am emotionally unstable. i dont want to be like this, its tiring, its draining to say the least. i was fine today, went to the gym, went to the spa, went to the sauna... how much better can life get? and the truman show left me touched and empty.
sigh.
carpe diem.
that's what im trying to convince myself of now.
23.5.02
5.5.02
starts off with his trademark impact tracks, pollen - lonely planet's bassline grabbing the attention, deep and mellow, spacey echoes with the beat coming in nicely... melodies then fade in... very sublime and atmospheric with a wicked synth searing across the track. melody keeps building and building... even when it plateaus, the synth cruises the track alone... bassline changes with more melody, nice counter point to the room filling electronic action. melody takes a dip... coming down coming down... and suddenly, the bassline picks up, melody gets even more uplifting and yet, still sublime, definitely very mood-setting and mellow.
feels like digweed is taking his own sweet time bringing the listener in... he's in no hurry to go anywhere, just playing out the track to be appreciated in its entirety.
dies away... pole folder and cp - dust is in... silky operatic vocals slide in... silky smooth, counterpoint to the short bassline... goes into some liquid fluid sounds... some have criticised on the gu board that this track sounds more like a vocal mix of waxx... the structure and way the melody builds in the background... but this is a very lazy, slow builder compared to waxx with its grand epic breakdown.
pace begins to pick up a bit at bermuda triangle - mooger fooger... harder beat comes in, a hint of tribal action, this is where the compilation takes a shift in sound direction... thumping bassline, more electronic (filtered twisted voice in the background) contrasts with the live sounds of percussion. again... very subtle melody, more like a groove... then the higher notes come in, a very wistful sound, lost in wilderness.
sean q6 - thing takes the compilation on a suddenly different mood and pace... harder hollow bassline, even more tribal action, a surprisingly cheeky, quirky, upbeat tribal production from sean q6, considering his other releases (consider the raven, cb radio, multiple mirrors ep). not much happening here... a filler track, the hollow bass and percussion keeps the track moving, but hardly developes.
still continuing with the hollow sounding bass... the flash brothers - protect the senses sees digweed returning to the deeper and darker sound... ominous bassline, synth and layered echoes. definitely sinister... too sudden a change in mood imo.
out of the deep and dark... digweed delves into a more normal sounding bassline with 108 grand - te quiero (darren emerson mix), but compensates with much more high end actions... flutes providing the upbeat, driving melody... then the synth changes to mirror and complement the flutes, taking precedence in the foreground of the track... breakdown... tingling piano action... just that simple melody hanging in the air, let down by the comeback, typical stuttered drum roll... the melodies still carrying the track well along... a surprisingly nice mix from emerson, almost remiscent of his work with sasha on scorchio, the whole uplifting, upbeat mood, but i hate drumrolls, reminds me too much of trance today, though it has been tweaked to sound less obvious.
but surprise surprise... the track goes into an impromtu breakbeat... good effort on emerson's production if he is responsible for all these, havent heard the original.
melody fades out... bassline blends in smoothly with shakespeare's sister - black sky (dub extravangaza). track plods along... building but not quite going anywhere... till some atmospheric noise comes in... still building... strings come in, lifting the track... echoes of the twisted female vocals being looped, complements the strings, creating a weird backdrop for the peak, the echoes build and then twisted vocals come in at the crescendo, which gets looped and the beat increases, all building up into a sudden bass drop, sick old skool electronica action, riveting beat and then slowly the elements of the track comes back together... melody fades in, atmospheric sounds... and peaks again, more synth, twisted echoes all the while the beats remains riveting, forcing the body to move while the mind trips out to the twisted haunting echoes.
james holden - i have put out the light... another typical holden production, much more atmospheric melodies than before, melody for the mind rather than the senses (close ur eyes and see the sounds in ur mind and how it relates to the space around ur head).
and suddenly... echoes of sasha - xpander? no, spooky - belong (dub club mix) continues the journey in melody... again, digweed dips back into the rawer electronic sounds of yesteryears... no longer lush, but sharp and short, hyptonising melody, which drops away suddenly with a richer melody... go the old skool.
continues the trend with a charlie may(similar sound since may was part of spooky) remix of mandalay - deep love, but for some reason this track reminds me of second hand satellites - multiple mirrors ep, except for the driving beat. more filtered echoes. breakdown... soaring synth building up, bass comes back in... hanging in there and the vocal flies. scintillating keys/synths? i dont know, i need a fucking dictionary or thesaurus. keeps building while the deep bassline chugs along... simply angelic vocal soars... definitely a track for a big room. the track drops into a more mellow mood...
bringing the listener home.
imo, a good and welcomed change for digweed, departure from the deep sound, tracks 1 - 3 were class, has the feel of northern exposure 1 cd1 with a harder beat. but ultimately, sasha is still the master of the musical mix when it comes to crafting seamless soundscapes. digweed rediscovers the melodies again, reminiscent of his early works, but tries to do too much on a 1 cd compilation... the tunes would sound much better spread out over 2 cds rather than a full on melodic assault, which, when played together in 1 cd, loses the chance to appreciate each track and give them the attention they deserve. digweed feels more at home playing tracks with grooves, locking the listener into his hypnotic control.
though im not complaining, trying to be as objective as i can since i am the notorious digweed whore. ofcos its a good compilation, there is a journey which works and for once doesnt leave the listener hanging for more, but definitely a cocktease, would be better over 2 cds.
[john digweed - mmii : an amateur review]
feels like digweed is taking his own sweet time bringing the listener in... he's in no hurry to go anywhere, just playing out the track to be appreciated in its entirety.
dies away... pole folder and cp - dust is in... silky operatic vocals slide in... silky smooth, counterpoint to the short bassline... goes into some liquid fluid sounds... some have criticised on the gu board that this track sounds more like a vocal mix of waxx... the structure and way the melody builds in the background... but this is a very lazy, slow builder compared to waxx with its grand epic breakdown.
pace begins to pick up a bit at bermuda triangle - mooger fooger... harder beat comes in, a hint of tribal action, this is where the compilation takes a shift in sound direction... thumping bassline, more electronic (filtered twisted voice in the background) contrasts with the live sounds of percussion. again... very subtle melody, more like a groove... then the higher notes come in, a very wistful sound, lost in wilderness.
sean q6 - thing takes the compilation on a suddenly different mood and pace... harder hollow bassline, even more tribal action, a surprisingly cheeky, quirky, upbeat tribal production from sean q6, considering his other releases (consider the raven, cb radio, multiple mirrors ep). not much happening here... a filler track, the hollow bass and percussion keeps the track moving, but hardly developes.
still continuing with the hollow sounding bass... the flash brothers - protect the senses sees digweed returning to the deeper and darker sound... ominous bassline, synth and layered echoes. definitely sinister... too sudden a change in mood imo.
out of the deep and dark... digweed delves into a more normal sounding bassline with 108 grand - te quiero (darren emerson mix), but compensates with much more high end actions... flutes providing the upbeat, driving melody... then the synth changes to mirror and complement the flutes, taking precedence in the foreground of the track... breakdown... tingling piano action... just that simple melody hanging in the air, let down by the comeback, typical stuttered drum roll... the melodies still carrying the track well along... a surprisingly nice mix from emerson, almost remiscent of his work with sasha on scorchio, the whole uplifting, upbeat mood, but i hate drumrolls, reminds me too much of trance today, though it has been tweaked to sound less obvious.
but surprise surprise... the track goes into an impromtu breakbeat... good effort on emerson's production if he is responsible for all these, havent heard the original.
melody fades out... bassline blends in smoothly with shakespeare's sister - black sky (dub extravangaza). track plods along... building but not quite going anywhere... till some atmospheric noise comes in... still building... strings come in, lifting the track... echoes of the twisted female vocals being looped, complements the strings, creating a weird backdrop for the peak, the echoes build and then twisted vocals come in at the crescendo, which gets looped and the beat increases, all building up into a sudden bass drop, sick old skool electronica action, riveting beat and then slowly the elements of the track comes back together... melody fades in, atmospheric sounds... and peaks again, more synth, twisted echoes all the while the beats remains riveting, forcing the body to move while the mind trips out to the twisted haunting echoes.
james holden - i have put out the light... another typical holden production, much more atmospheric melodies than before, melody for the mind rather than the senses (close ur eyes and see the sounds in ur mind and how it relates to the space around ur head).
and suddenly... echoes of sasha - xpander? no, spooky - belong (dub club mix) continues the journey in melody... again, digweed dips back into the rawer electronic sounds of yesteryears... no longer lush, but sharp and short, hyptonising melody, which drops away suddenly with a richer melody... go the old skool.
continues the trend with a charlie may(similar sound since may was part of spooky) remix of mandalay - deep love, but for some reason this track reminds me of second hand satellites - multiple mirrors ep, except for the driving beat. more filtered echoes. breakdown... soaring synth building up, bass comes back in... hanging in there and the vocal flies. scintillating keys/synths? i dont know, i need a fucking dictionary or thesaurus. keeps building while the deep bassline chugs along... simply angelic vocal soars... definitely a track for a big room. the track drops into a more mellow mood...
bringing the listener home.
imo, a good and welcomed change for digweed, departure from the deep sound, tracks 1 - 3 were class, has the feel of northern exposure 1 cd1 with a harder beat. but ultimately, sasha is still the master of the musical mix when it comes to crafting seamless soundscapes. digweed rediscovers the melodies again, reminiscent of his early works, but tries to do too much on a 1 cd compilation... the tunes would sound much better spread out over 2 cds rather than a full on melodic assault, which, when played together in 1 cd, loses the chance to appreciate each track and give them the attention they deserve. digweed feels more at home playing tracks with grooves, locking the listener into his hypnotic control.
though im not complaining, trying to be as objective as i can since i am the notorious digweed whore. ofcos its a good compilation, there is a journey which works and for once doesnt leave the listener hanging for more, but definitely a cocktease, would be better over 2 cds.
[john digweed - mmii : an amateur review]
27.4.02
pounding... pounding... dark
bassline
sexy... lazy... breathy... spacey... filtered
voice
swirling... travelling
synth
building building... techy stabs... blocky chunks...
dont be so contrived
the voice slides in... twirling around like smoke, intertwined with the swirling synth, existing in the ambient echoes of space
who do i share this with?
who would understand this visualisation of sound and music?
its existence in my aural space?
[blh3 - marscarter (debo + porter mix)]
bassline
sexy... lazy... breathy... spacey... filtered
voice
swirling... travelling
synth
building building... techy stabs... blocky chunks...
dont be so contrived
the voice slides in... twirling around like smoke, intertwined with the swirling synth, existing in the ambient echoes of space
who do i share this with?
who would understand this visualisation of sound and music?
its existence in my aural space?
[blh3 - marscarter (debo + porter mix)]
24.4.02
i went to a fundraiser tonight.
a friend asked.
so i went.
went there after school, in the rain, sick as a dog, looked in the doorway, went up the stairs, donated, and hung around.
the place looked like an art gallery, i suppose that's why they decided to use it, no leap of logic there. i didnt know anyone there, and i didnt know what was going on, really just standing around trying to figure it all out amidst the smoke, talk and laughter (no i wasnt involved in said activities).
and i found myself questioning... were those people there tonight truly artists, or try-hards?
and i found myself questioning myself why i was questioning.
i find myself very skeptical of such activities... i am much more appreciative of street artists than the company tonight. somehow, the whole setup was just too extravagent in a way... what exactly are these people skilled at? what are they artists for? generating masks and papparrazi fodder(sp)?
am i envious of them? because i had the chance to pursue my creative urges long time ago and lost it? i could be where they are tonight, and no more?
i wished she was with me, i could've asked her then, and we would have had a good time laughing, at myself, and at them.
a friend asked.
so i went.
went there after school, in the rain, sick as a dog, looked in the doorway, went up the stairs, donated, and hung around.
the place looked like an art gallery, i suppose that's why they decided to use it, no leap of logic there. i didnt know anyone there, and i didnt know what was going on, really just standing around trying to figure it all out amidst the smoke, talk and laughter (no i wasnt involved in said activities).
and i found myself questioning... were those people there tonight truly artists, or try-hards?
and i found myself questioning myself why i was questioning.
i find myself very skeptical of such activities... i am much more appreciative of street artists than the company tonight. somehow, the whole setup was just too extravagent in a way... what exactly are these people skilled at? what are they artists for? generating masks and papparrazi fodder(sp)?
am i envious of them? because i had the chance to pursue my creative urges long time ago and lost it? i could be where they are tonight, and no more?
i wished she was with me, i could've asked her then, and we would have had a good time laughing, at myself, and at them.
23.4.02
i cant talk
my heart is killing me too much
im getting panic attacks
just from giving monosyllabic replies
there is no one
there is none
i want and i dont want, to be babysat, i know i have to see this through alone, oh god, help
i cant talk
i dont want to think
i just want to curl up
into a tiny dot
and then
disappear
sorry
my heart is killing me too much
im getting panic attacks
just from giving monosyllabic replies
there is no one
there is none
i want and i dont want, to be babysat, i know i have to see this through alone, oh god, help
i cant talk
i dont want to think
i just want to curl up
into a tiny dot
and then
disappear
sorry
20.4.02
we are all alone.
i've realised, ultimately, no matter wat happens, even if u have someone, a partner in a relationship, or anyone for that matter, thinking u can depend on that person is just a delusion on my part, im always alone, no one is going to understand/sympathise/empathise with me, that's just life
the world is an impartial place, the universe more so... there is no right or wrong, there are no morals... afterall, the universe we exist in (including our world), simply exists and is. we are but chaff in the cosmic winds. rights and wrongs, morals, are what man project onto himself, to take comfort and security in, to justify his own existence and actions. when the universe does not need such justification, it is, and will remain so, even as man lives out his existence on this rock which is but dust.
life becomes simpler if one was to assume he was alone, albeit selfish but simpler.
relationships are a farce, we are only lying to each other in the most loving way possible (and somehow, just because we love each other, makes it more bearable and forgivable), and taking comfort in each other when there is none to be given.
i have loved twice in my life, the first time, i learnt the lesson hard and swore to myself i would never be such a dog to someone ever again, and i would never cry for someone again. the second time, i thought this could be it, afterall, i never asked or looked for it, if this was fate, so be it, i shall not be the fool, let fate play me for the fool, but never myself. i have not cried, somehow, my body refuses to, as much as i would like to get it out and over with, i lie in bed wrecked with shakes and gasps, but never any tears. so i kept my promise to myself, never to cry for someone, and it looks like i am, might, have to, (i dunno, i hope, i still hope) re-learn the lesson again. practice makes perfect, is that not what they say.
by that analogy, i think i am on my way to perfecting how to be alone.
ultimately, we all live for ourselves.
i've realised, ultimately, no matter wat happens, even if u have someone, a partner in a relationship, or anyone for that matter, thinking u can depend on that person is just a delusion on my part, im always alone, no one is going to understand/sympathise/empathise with me, that's just life
the world is an impartial place, the universe more so... there is no right or wrong, there are no morals... afterall, the universe we exist in (including our world), simply exists and is. we are but chaff in the cosmic winds. rights and wrongs, morals, are what man project onto himself, to take comfort and security in, to justify his own existence and actions. when the universe does not need such justification, it is, and will remain so, even as man lives out his existence on this rock which is but dust.
life becomes simpler if one was to assume he was alone, albeit selfish but simpler.
relationships are a farce, we are only lying to each other in the most loving way possible (and somehow, just because we love each other, makes it more bearable and forgivable), and taking comfort in each other when there is none to be given.
i have loved twice in my life, the first time, i learnt the lesson hard and swore to myself i would never be such a dog to someone ever again, and i would never cry for someone again. the second time, i thought this could be it, afterall, i never asked or looked for it, if this was fate, so be it, i shall not be the fool, let fate play me for the fool, but never myself. i have not cried, somehow, my body refuses to, as much as i would like to get it out and over with, i lie in bed wrecked with shakes and gasps, but never any tears. so i kept my promise to myself, never to cry for someone, and it looks like i am, might, have to, (i dunno, i hope, i still hope) re-learn the lesson again. practice makes perfect, is that not what they say.
by that analogy, i think i am on my way to perfecting how to be alone.
ultimately, we all live for ourselves.
17.4.02
what we could have been once upon a time.
images
flashes
memories
flashes
too fast
cant
grab
stop
hold
dont
feel
and yet,
its there
something
i cant touch
nothing
i daren't go near.
what do i do with it?
it sits in my chest, a dead weight
sapping the life
making the dead
i want to open it up
assimilate it
i want the pain
to sear
i want the tears
to hurt
but nothing comes
stuggle to breathe
heart pounding
but nothing comes
what could we have been once upon a time?
nothing comes.
images
flashes
memories
flashes
too fast
cant
grab
stop
hold
dont
feel
and yet,
its there
something
i cant touch
nothing
i daren't go near.
what do i do with it?
it sits in my chest, a dead weight
sapping the life
making the dead
i want to open it up
assimilate it
i want the pain
to sear
i want the tears
to hurt
but nothing comes
stuggle to breathe
heart pounding
but nothing comes
what could we have been once upon a time?
nothing comes.
its locked away... the wall is up, i dont know when i'll let it out again, even as i secretly hope there is a reason to bring the wall down before it is too firmly in place.
i lay in bed today, images and memories flashing across my mind's eye at random, my heart pounding and my lungs gasping, every time i tried to chase down these images and memories, when i try to hold it in my mind, examine them, feel them, let them wash over me; i tried to cry, i managed a wetting of my eyes.
i cant touch on them, my body physically stops me with wrecks of shakes and lack of breath, my heart pounding too hard i darent push myself.
i cant.
its locked, the wall is up.
i just want to let it out and cry, and i cant.
i hope it stays this way.
i lay in bed today, images and memories flashing across my mind's eye at random, my heart pounding and my lungs gasping, every time i tried to chase down these images and memories, when i try to hold it in my mind, examine them, feel them, let them wash over me; i tried to cry, i managed a wetting of my eyes.
i cant touch on them, my body physically stops me with wrecks of shakes and lack of breath, my heart pounding too hard i darent push myself.
i cant.
its locked, the wall is up.
i just want to let it out and cry, and i cant.
i hope it stays this way.
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